When I was twenty-two years old, I started thinking about guys.  I found myself in gay chat rooms like “LongIslandM4M,” and stuff like that.  The first thing I learned was that saying I was only twenty-two made me very popular.  I liked the attention I was getting.  Being only five-foot-five and an average-looking guy never really got me noticed.  But just giving my age and location, everyone wanted to talk to me.  The chats would start out friendly and inevitably turn sexual.  Talking in chatrooms would sometimes lead to Instant Messaging and emailing pics (some clothed, some not so much).  I wouldn’t show my face, so I felt comfortable with that when sending.   

As time went by and I became more comfortable with what I was doing, I even began taking on requests for pictures I would take, usually for what I was wearing.  Some guys wanted to see me undressed out of a suit, and some out of jeans and shirt.  Some even wanted, and I was sometimes able to accommodate, pics of me in women’s clothing.  Aside from being a small guy, I was also relatively hairless, so I guess I looked a little feminine.  It was all in good fun and I loved how excited it made everyone.  I received many invitations to meet up, but I never considered them.  That was, until one winter night.

One night I began chatting with as older guy who lived only two towns away.  He said he was forty-six and he was six feet tall, with a hairy chest and neat beard. I can't explain why but somehow, I just felt attracted to him.  So, we talked and exchanged pics, me dressed up in various clothes and some where I wasn’t. Finally, he asked me if I wanted to come over to his place that night.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that kind of step.  I had been curious but never actually thought about actually meeting up with a guy.  I was terrified and excited at the same time, when I wrote back, "Yes." He sent me his address, along with a few instructions.  They consisted of parking at the end of the block and then, I was to start walking up a few houses and he would signal me. This became real so fast.  I decided it was time to go for it. 

I looked up the directions and parked at the end of the block, like he said. It was a very dark street. Street lights were overgrown by trees, so you couldn't see house numbers.  I got out of the car and started walking. After passing the second house, I heard a "psst," but I couldn't see where it came from. Then he used the flashlight, blinking it twice, to get my attention. He was behind the fence on the side of the house.

I walked up the dark driveway and over to him, and he let me in through the fence. He greeted me and said we had to be quiet.  By this point, you could pretty much see my heart beating through my chest. There I was, at a strange person's home, and no one knew I was there.  Yet with all of this... I followed him through the fence, down some steps into what seemed to be the basement.

When we went in and he turned on the lights, it looked like an apartment.  I’m guessing we had to be quiet so the landlord wouldn’t hear.  He closed the door behind me and came over and said he was glad I came over, and put his arms around me and started kissing me. I had never kissed a man before, but today was going to be a day of firsts.

He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a robe that was untied, so his chest was out. He offered me a drink, which I declined, though I should have because my mouth was so dry from nerves, I could barely get sounds out. He told me to go and sit down by him on the couch, so I did.

We sat and talked for a little bit, and he kept mentioning how glad he was I came over, which made me feel better and more relaxed each time. "Why don't you come right over here?" he said, and I smiled and shifted over to him as he put his arm around me. With that, he started kissing me again.

My one hand had slid behind his back on the couch and my other hand was on his chest. I loved the feel of his chest hair and kept rubbing my hands over it. Then it happened. He took my hand from his chest and moved it to his crotch. I could feel his hard cock through the pants (yet another first for me). He took his had away and I continued rubbing it. After a minute or two he stopped kissing me and leaned back in order to pull his pants down.

Without missing a beat my hand was back on it, stroking it. This was my first time touching one that wasn't mine, but I'd seen a lot of porn up to that point so I knew what to do and what was about to happen.  I stopped kissing him and started kissing him down his neck...then down his chest... to his stomach and then to... it. In this age of the internet, and having been on the receiving end a few times (by girls) I reached into all of my knowledge and did what I came there to do.

I started by kissing up the shaft and then up to the head. This gave me time to build up some saliva. With that accomplished, I switched to licking around the tip. Then up and down a few times until wrapping my whole mouth around it. It was so warm and hard in my mouth—a little bigger than average sized, definitely not porn star size, but bigger than me.

Up and down. You'd think I had done this a million times before, but this was my first time giving a blowjob, and from his reaction he was enjoying it. He would put his hand behind my head to push me down further onto it, which I surprisingly was able to do.  I alternated between sucking his cock or jerking it while I licked and sucked on his balls.

Finally, he said the words I was worried about: "You're going to make me cum." What do I do? I have a few seconds to decide how this is going to end. Do I stop and he cums on me? Do I let him cum in my mouth and I spit it out? Or... do I swallow? It was a decision my brain had to make, but I wasn't stopping. I doubled-down and was stroking him as I sucked. This was apparently more effective, and within a few groans it happened. His body froze meanwhile I could feel his cock pulsating in my mouth. I could feel it filling my mouth with each pulse. What did I do? I swallowed it.

With that last ounce of his energy, he was done. He sat back onto the couch, exhausted. I climbed back on next to him and we just sat there, with the occasional kiss and my grabbing of his dick which was now red and worn out. Too much excitement for one day. The same for me. After a few minutes, all of the events of the day and night had come back to me, and I was starting to freak out. I told him that I needed to go, and he understood. He pulled up his pants as he stood to walk me to the door.

He gave me a kiss at the door before I left, which for me felt as awkward as the first one. The “spell” that had come over me had worn off, and now I’m thinking about what I had done. I then started what I imagine would be the walk of shame, back down to my car.  As I closed the door, the nerves had disappeared, and I thought to myself.  I thought, “I may have to try this again sometime.”