"Holy shit, you give great head!" I gasp as jets of cream surge through my urethra into Stan's skillful mouth.

I've been in his foyer for less than ten minutes. Technically, our date hasn't even started.

It's promising to be a good one.

"Only fair I evened things up, handsome," Stan says, sharing a cummy kiss. I should find it weird how he calls me that, but perversely, given my usual humility (or is it insecurity?), I kind of like it. "You sucked me off at the party, and I didn't get a chance to do you back. We'll have plenty of time for more after dinner and the concert."

"The anticipation will be as delicious as the food."

"As delicious as your cum, even."

I've never felt interested in a guy in quite this way before. I mean, I've sucked a fair bit of dick, and even had my ass filled a few times, but my "relationships" with other guys had always been primarily as buddies, not as ... well, as things usually are with a woman. But Stan and I immediately hit it off when we met at a Halloween sex party last weekend (described in the previous two chapters of this series), of all things, while both waiting in line to be all-male Bukkake "recipients." Emphasizing that our open relationship is about more than just sex, Daphne is enthusiastically encouraging me to explore this connection with him.

= = = = > < = = = =

Getting to know Stan proves very enjoyable indeed, starting with a shared dinner of Indian food. Flatteringly inquisitive, he learns about my background, and also about Daphne, including the fact that Fate will split us to opposite corners of the country when we graduate in the Spring. I also share how she pursued me precisely because I'm Bi (and kind), and might thus be open to her collection of kinks, and how I, in turn, love her openness to my Bisexuality, especially having been dumped by a previous girlfriend just for being what I am.

Over a second round of Pappadums, Stan shows deep interest in me and my feelings about my situation, much as a woman might on a date. Although his attention is frankly starting to turn me on, I steer the conversation back to tonight's main topic, which is music, since we'll be seeing the all-female punk band L7. Among seemingly many things, we share a love for the many disparate genres of music from the Seventies to the Nineties that eventually came to be gathered under the label "Alternative."

I learn that Stan is a bit of an Anglophile when it comes to these once-irreconcilable musical forms, especially the Second British Invasion bands that range from the Sex Pistols on the punk side to XTC, New Order and Echo and the Bunnymen on the New Wave/Dark Wave end of the spectrum, but also newer stuff like Blur and Oasis.

Conversely, while I adore the Brit bands too, with a special fondness for the Psychedelic Furs, my affection runs even deeper for American Punk and Alternative, all the way from the Ramones to the Seattle Grunge bands and Soul Coughing. Stan gives me shit for liking the Offspring, whom he considers juvenile, to which I amiably and maturely banter that's too fucking bad. If he can have Morrissey, I can have the Offspring, a point he grudgingly concedes.

As our plates of veggie Korma, lamb Keema and chicken Makhani arrive, I start asking Stan more about himself, quickly learning that he is from the next state, is six years my senior, and is employed by the University's IT department. "After I graduated," he admits, "I really didn't want to have to leave college, so I hired on here. I guess you could say," he says, starting to sing in a low voice, 'I ... don't ... want ...'"

'... to grow up," I join him in finishing the title lyric from the Ramones song of the same name. We both chuckle at that one.

"And I must admit I enjoy the dating pool."

"Which, for you, includes a lot of Bi guys?"

"Mmm, yes, and Bi-curious guys especially," he says, licking his lips. "There is something special about being a man's first man. Have you ever had the good fortune to initiate someone, Joe?"

I nod.

"Tell me more, handsome." I barely notice how Stan has turned the focus back to me again.

"For three or four guys, I've been their first taste ... of ..." Thankfully, we're in a quiet booth separated from the other tables, so our conversation truly is private, but I'm still hesitant to say it out loud.

"Cock?" Stan says in a hoarse, provocative whisper. "It's such a magical moment when a curious guy crosses that threshold. Often, the reality blows away even his secret fantasies, causing a cascade of feelings. I feel honored to be there for a guy when that happens."

"By the way, one of the guys I initiated was also named Stan," I inform him. He tilts his head in curiosity, and I relate how my first threesome involving another man was with a couple named Linda and Stan. In response to the present Stan's subtle but skillful prompting, I find myself sharing this and several other stories about introducing guys to the various arts of masculine sex. In turn, I manage to extract from Stan a few tales about guys he's broken in.

"I can't believe what a good time I'm having with you, Stan," I gush as we finish off our mango Lassis.

"What, are you surprised, Joe?" he asks with warm sarcasm.

"Sorry, no, not on your account. It's just that I've never been on a date with a real man before." Then, thoughtfully, I add, "Come to think of it, that's only sort of true." As we leave the restaurant and walk down the street, I briefly relate one more experience, from last summer when my friend Matt cross-dressed as his alter ego "Mattie." "My point is, Stan, you're charming my pants off."

"If you haven't figured it out," he smirks, "getting your pants off is my ultimate goal."

"Yeah, but you've already had my pants off once tonight."

"Not for the last time."

= = = = > < = = = =

The University auditorium's house lights dim for the warmup band, called Ronnie Rockett and the Black Tarts. Pencil lights illuminate five Black women, three of them brandishing guitars. Defying our expectations of a middling Joan Jett cover band, five female voices harmonize, "Yeah ... yeah ... oh yeah ... what condition my condition is in," the start of "Just Dropped In" by Kenny Rogers from before he went Country. Psychedelic images swirl across the stage as the instruments kick in, and Stan and I exchange looks of pleasant surprise that we are in for a hell of a show before L7 even takes the stage. The band proceeds through a range of hard-rock covers: Siouxsie, Living Colour, 4 Non Blondes, Liz Phair, Violent Femmes, Dead Kennedys, and even Big Mama Thornton.

Ronnie finally addresses the crowd. “It's all Rock 'N Roll, babies! And for those who came here expecting to hear some Joan Jett covers, you oughta know ...” She pauses, then shouts, “I Love Rock ‘N Roll!” over a drum intro to the Joan song of the same name. They follow this with the Queen of Rock 'N Roll's equally essential “Cherry Bomb.”

Next is a surprisingly sexy mashup of the Dead Milkmen's "Punk Rock Girl" with Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl." The audience in this college venue is more than receptive to this Sapphic turn, especially as the band then evokes Patti Smith - and exhumes Jim Morrison - in transforming "Gloria" into an epic, explicitly Lesbian anthem.

After that rather climactic medley, things suddenly get personal for Stan (and me, as his date), with an unlikely, but cleverly crafted rock-ballad version of Ben E. King's "Stand By Me." Naturally, Stan and I sing this along as "Stan By Me," with a quick kiss at the end.

The Tarts' time on the stage ends, far sooner than we wish, with a thunderous version of 7 Year Bitch's "Kiss My Ass Goodbye," which concludes with Ronnie dropping trou and mooning the audience.

During the interlude while the roadies clean up the Tarts' mess and prepare the equipment for L7, the couple on the other side of Stan start talking to us about this ass-kicking (and -kissing) show. Shirley, the woman, effuses, "So your name really is Stan? That was so romantic, seeing the two of you singing to each other, holding hands. And kissing," she says, skewering her male date with a glance while she says it.

"Well, it's not just the 'Stan' part of the title that matters here," says Stan, completely embarrassing me by explaining, "because Joe here is Bisexual."

"Haha, I get it!" she replies. "'Stan Bi Me,' That's awesome." She then boldly adds, indicating her date, "Jeff here is Bi-curious himself; he just hasn't found the right guy to experiment with." Jeff looks even more mortified than I feel.

"Then Jeff oughta know," taunts Stan, further embarrassing us both, "that Joe has a long history of converting Bi-curious guys to Bi-active."

= = = = > < = = = =

Any further conversation is swamped by the tsunami of cheering as L7 takes the stage.

"Goddess of Thunder" Dee explodes across her drum set in a frenzy, then Suzi's feedback-laden guitar peels the paint off the walls and Barefoot Jen's bass rumbles the building's concrete foundation. The crowd proceeds to lose its absolute shit even before Donita starts belting out "Fast and Frightening," ultimately joining her in its wicked signature line, "Got so much clit she don't need no balls."

That's followed by the sarcastic and equally hard-driving "Mr. Integrity," after which Donita pauses to speak for a minute, praising the warmup band and audience. And then the thrash is back on. Despite their punk aesthetic, pointed lyrics and sludgy sound, the ladies of L7 have an attitude that's much more light and playful than angry. They're clearly having fun up there, as are Stan and I, going hoarse as we yell out the catchy refrains of "Baggage," "Packin' A Rod" (during which Stan grabs my actual, semi-erect rod and I observe a few women waving pink and purple dildos around), "Masses Are Asses," "Shitlist," "Deathwish," "Wargasm," "Shove," "American Society," and their big hit, "Pretend We're Dead." Every single one of their numbers absolutely rips, as do the Ramones, Iggy Pop and Black Flag covers they throw in for seasoning.

During the closing song, "Off the Wagon," I notice Shirley and Stan talking animatedly. Then Stan's breath is hot in my ear as he asks, "How would you feel about taking Jeff back to my place for a little initiation? I promise to send him home after a few minutes. I want to leave plenty of one-on-one time for my handsome date."

Eyes wide, I nod approvingly, and a big smile spreads across Shirley's face as Jeff takes Stan's hand in his.

= = = = > < = = = =

Jeff immediately gets amorous at Stan's place, making out with him in the entryway just as I had done earlier tonight, but Stan quickly leads us to his bedroom to do things properly. Then I get a turn making out with Jeff, who proves a remarkably good kisser, and then he turns back to Stan while I peel off his clothes and he takes off Stan's. Jeff rubs his hands over Stan's fuzzy chest. Hey, I think, that was supposed to be mine tonight. Oh well, I can share my hot date for a few minutes.

Kneeling before our similar-sized but very different erections, Jeff breathlessly exclaims, "Lucky me, I get to try both flavors! Cut and uncut." He takes a tentative lick of the precum that's formed on my tip. "Mmm!" Then he licks the length of Stan's cock. "Oh fucking yum." He peels back Stan's skin-wrapper, stares that throbbing manhood in the eye and fully takes it in his mouth. Stan's experience shows as he subtly coaches Jeff on technique through his first time.

Jeff starts alternating between us a few times, clearly reveling in the fact that at long last, he is actually tasting penis. Stan then beckons us onto the bed, taking Jeff's meat in his mouth while Jeff slurps on mine. I'm so excited by the everything of this evening that I quickly find my body going as stiff as my shaft, delivering Jeff his first taste of another man's produce. He likes it very much, pivoting around into a sixty-nine with the guy who was supposed to be mine for the whole night. Once both guys have orgasmed, we share wonderful cumkisses and send Stan back to his vehicle, where Shirley has been waiting. I'm sure they have rather a lot to talk about. Unless they live close, I bet they'll have a hard time resisting going at it right there in the car.

Now Stan and I are finally alone together in his bedroom with candles lit, drinks poured and Dead Can Dance playing at low volume. It feels both a reversal of the usual, not to mention strangely flattering, to have a man romancing me like this. Still naked and temporarily sated from feeding Jeff's virginal mouth, we cuddle on the bed, lightly stroking each other while revisiting the night's events.

Most of my past masculine encounters have been primarily physical. I now realize that even in the two notable exceptions, when Keith and I mimicked his girlfriend Kate's first time with her friend Shauna, and on that date with "Mattie," we were acting out roles. Tonight, though, there's no pretense. No armor. I find myself welcoming this new level of intimacy with this new man.

We shift into a leisurely side-by-side sixty-nine position, licking and teasing each other, each of us tenderly cradling and caressing the other's head while doing so. I particularly enjoy getting to know all of the crinkly skin of his lovely uncircumcised penis, the first one I've seen up close. Soon, however, I shift my position so that I can suck in Stan's hairy globes on my way to his hairy back crack. He seems thrilled that I'm steering us so quickly into rimland, and I relish the warm sensations down below as we both eat each other's asses enjoyably for some time.

"Have you ever had an anal orgasm, handsome?" Stan eventually asks.

"I've ejaculated from guys hitting my prostate, if that's what you mean. Feels nice, but I wouldn't really call it an orgasm."

We sit up so we can exchange a musky tongue kiss. "Then, my dear Joe, I would love to see if I can give you that tonight."

I agree to try, lying on my front while Stan straddles me. He starts with a relaxing back massage, his dripping dong resting in my buttcrack as he applies oil and works on my shoulders. He hums gently to the quiet music as he works his way downward, massaging my buttocks for a bit, and then easing his thumb in and out of my pleasure hole repeatedly. Pleasure emanates in pulses each time the knuckle passes through the inside of my sphincter.

"How does that feel, Joe?"

Already leaking precum onto the sheet, I'm melting into Stan's mattress. "Absolutely wonderful," I exhale truthfully as he works his thumb around in a slow circle, the resultant pleasure waves now swirling instead of radiating. "Mmm, I could do this all night."

Now Stan gives my butthole the middle finger, almost immediately finding my prostate and driving a torrent of goo through my shaft. I melt even further as he strokes the finger in and out gently, the tip flicking my gland to coax out more dribbles. He rubs his hands up my back and kisses me on the neck. "Are you ready to take me now?"

"God, yes!" I moan. Stan slides in and dilates me with almost zero discomfort or resistance, making me groan with satisfaction as he continues to drive himself all the way in.

He groans too. "Ohh fuuuck, that's good, Joe ... how are you feeling, buddy?"

"Nothing but pure pleasure. Most relaxed I've ever been for a fucking."

"Pure pleasure here too, Joe. You're so wonderfully soft and warm inside."

"You can just store that cock in there all night if you want."

"I only wish." My lover starts to very slowly pump in and out, sensually rubbing his hands up and down my back. "Now, keep in mind that you will have absolutely no control over when an anal orgasm overtakes you. Just let go. And let me."

I find myself surrendering utterly as Stan languorously drives my posterior for several minutes, pausing periodically to change angles or stir his stick around inside me. I feel not only my insides churning, but thrill waves once again spinning around my ass-axis as they circulate throughout my body.

Stan has me flip over onto my back, lifting one of my legs so he can get one of his under me, a hand grasping the back of my asscheek. For some reason, when he reenters me, the angle allowing for deeper penetration, the intensity of pleasure seems doubled. I find myself involuntarily letting out light, high moans with each stroke. Like Stan said, just submit, Joe. Let it happen.

"Yes, baby, that's it. Right now, nothing else exists in this universe but you, and me, and our beautiful bodies connected in sweet communion."

Yes! This speaks to me. Beautiful bodies. When I met Stan last week, I found myself immediately drawn to him not only as a person, but I found his entire masculine body enticing in a way that a man's had not before. I reach up to rub my hands across his chest, caressing and sucking his pecs and nipples much as I would a woman's. The hairiness of Stan's chest doesn't detract from his sexiness; somehow, it makes him even hotter. Even a year ago, dating a Bi-phobic girlfriend, I might have thought it a bit too gay to find a male body as alluring as a female one. It's okay, Joe. Embrace the gay.

These thoughts make me want to embrace more of Stan, too. I want all of him. It makes no logical sense, my rectum already overstuffed with his manhood, but I demand more! I pull him tight against me. Being a somewhat bigger man, he envelops me tightly in his arms, now kissing me deeply, his hand still grasping my right buttock. I moan louder. Contracting and flexing against him, I feel myself floating as if suspended above the bed.

"That's it, Joe! Cum for me, baby! I know you can! Trust your manly body!"

Just after I fully relinquish to the float, I find myself trembling. Spasming. Squealing. Ejaculating. Warm jizz floods the space between our bellies. As my spurts continue, I feel not only tremendous pleasure, but a tremendous sense of awe welling up in my eyes.

Stan's now pressing his pelvis against me, spasming as he forcefully wrestles his tongue with mine, grunting loudly as he shoots palpable bursts of fluid deep into my canal. "Yes, Joe! You did it! We did it! We reached the top of the mountain!"

Noticing that I'm still unable to speak after catching my breath, Stan offers, "Joe, remember what I said about the cascade of feelings when a guy's expectations are exceeded? If that's just happened to you, know that I'm here for however much, or little, you want to share."

It's some time before I'm able to tell him, feeling a bit emotional, that I had no idea I could cum so intensely, let alone from (mostly) anal stimulation. That I'm still head over heels for Daphne. But also that for the first time, I could imagine the joy of having a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend, at least in an alternate universe where I hadn't met Daphne.

"Joe, you can have a boyfriend right now! And you can still have Daphne too! She knows that your loving a man can be additive to what you two already have, and I love her for letting you be free enough to try. I don't want to take any part of you away from Daphne, or from your plans when you graduate. I just really, really like you, right here in the now. I would like to keep enjoying moments like this with you while I can."

"Well, in that case ..." I lightly sing the chorus of the Ramones' "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend."

Exhilarated and exhausted, I drift off to blissful, satisfied sleep in Stan's arms. After a few minutes, he gets up to go to the bathroom. peeks through the drapes and observes that Shirley and Jeff's car is still parked outside. "If this car's a-rockin' ..."

= = = = > < = = = =

Except for the obvious cover-band resemblance to the very real, pioneering, kick-ass Joan Jett, any other similarity between the purely imaginary Ronnie Rockett and any real musical performers, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All other musical acts mentioned in this story are real, however. And worth getting to know!