Hi, my name is Henry. I was a freshman at university when I first had sex with a man. I've known I was gay since the age of sixteen, but I didn't exactly attend a gay-friendly high school. Well, given that I went to high school in the late 1980s, I guess there weren't many gay-friendly high schools, but Catholic school in rural Ontario was particularly dire. I mean, when you have your fucking TEACHERS telling you that AIDS is god's punishment for homosexuality, there's really very little to encourage you to come out of the closet ... or risk sounding out boys you have a crush on to see if things are reciprocated.

What's bizarre, to me, is how many people in similar situations actually lost their virginities with fellow students back then. I know now of at least half a dozen boys from my grade who hooked up with each other. I was so oblivious then! I'd like to say that, had I known, I'd have had a lot of sex before university ... but in truth, I would probably have been too scared of getting caught.

Mind you, it's not as if orientation week at university offered me a long line of cocks to suck (mmm ... hang on while I imagine that for a moment). Gay kids today don't know how easy they have it. Sure, there was a Gay and Lesbian Alliance at the student center, and special Pride events and the like, but there was still a lot of homophobia pervading the student body. My first roommate was just the kind of meathead whose favorite insult was to scream "FAG!" and who basically papered the walls on his side of the room with nearly-pornographic posters of women. I really, really didn't want him to find out I was gay ... not that I think he'd have done me violence, but holy crap it would have made life miserable.

So I guess what I'm saying is, I was a big fucking coward. And probably would have been a virgin until I was thirty if it wasn't for Philip.

Philip was my sociology TA. He was in his late twenties, a very laid-back doctoral student who actually made me want to go to class—both because he was an awesome teacher, and because he was gorgeous. Black hair, perennially scruffy cheeks, broad shoulders, and a grin that, I kid you not, made the girls in our class literally swoon.

I did not have the luxury of swooning. I swooned on the inside, and found every excuse I could to visit him during his office hours. That class was my best grade that year.

On top of it all, I really LIKED him. He was so smart, so nice, and had a great sense of humor. Somewhere halfway through the year, my visits started turning into epic gab sessions. After we'd dispensed with whatever course business I'd come to discuss, we'd talk for half an hour about music, movies, politics ... it was amazing.

I had no idea he was gay. I just assumed I was having yet another futile crush on a straight man, but when I ran into him on campus after classes had ended, he said, "Hey, so when do you go home?"

"In a week."

"We should go for a beer before that."

He said it casually, but it caught me by surprise.

"Um, sure," I stammered. And before I knew what I was saying, I added, "How about tonight?"

That took HIM by surprise, but he grinned and said, "Sure." We made plans to meet at a small pub just off campus.

Needless to say, I was so nervous that evening. We sat in a booth at the back and had a few drinks. It was both thrilling and depressing—it was great to sit with this guy I had such a crush on, but it was painful to think that's all it could ever be ... just drinks. It must have shown on my face, because twice he asked me if I was OK.

We left at about eleven. I was slightly tipsy; he was strangely quiet as we walked down the street.

"Well, here's me," he said suddenly. We had stopped beside one of those low, boxlike apartment buildings.

"Oh," I said, distressed. At a loss for words, I asked, inanely, "Nice apartment?"

"Not bad."

"Yeah, because, you see, I want to live off campus next year," I babbled. "But I don't know what the places are like here."

"Well ... would you like to see my place?" he asked. "Give you an idea?"

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

He was on the third floor. It was a one bedroom apartment, clean but cluttered with books and papers. He walked into the middle of the main room and gestured like a game show hostess. "Only the most luxurious dwellings for grad students."

Still not speaking, I nodded. He stepped closer to me.

"Like what you see?"

"Um ... sure?"

He stared at me for a moment, and then laughed.

"Wow. You might have gotten an A plus in my class, but you're kind of an idiot, aren't you?"

"I'm ... what?"

Then he kissed me.

I was so shocked I froze. He stepped back, dismayed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I thought ..."

"No. No! You thought right!" I said, and clumsily kissed him.

For a moment it was awkward, and then we settled into it, putting our arms around each other. I had never kissed a man ... I had barely kissed girls in high school when I was pretending to be straight. It was his stubble that shocked me, the rough sensation of his cheek against mine. Then his tongue parted my lips and I kissed him back as hard as I could.

He laughed again. "Gently, gently." He kissed me softly, barely grazing my lips, and I felt the light flutter of the tip of his tongue. I shuddered, feeling for a moment as though I might faint.

He pulled back for a moment and looked at me quizzically. "Is this ... your first time?"

"You can tell?" I asked, slightly ashamed.

"It's ... well, sort of." He stroked my cheek. "Don't worry if it is ... unless this is too much too soon?"

Too much too soon? I wanted EVERYTHING, and I wanted it years ago.

I took a deep breath. "Yes, it is my first time," I said, my voice ragged. "No, it's not too much."

"Well," he said, "if it's your first time, I suppose I should make it memorable."

With that he kissed me again, hard, and swung me around and basically frog-marched me into his bedroom.

Did I mention he was also strong? The next thing I knew we were standing beside the bed and his hands were busy at the buttons of my shirt. As he undid them, he nuzzled at my neck, every so often flicking my earlobe with his tongue. My hands were on his shoulders and suddenly I was hyper-aware of his body beneath his clothes.

Frantically, I tugged at his jacket and pulled it off and grabbed the hem of his sweater. He paused long enough to let me pull it up over his head, and then he slid my shirt off. He yanked my undershirt out of my jeans and suddenly I was shirtless. He still wore a tee-shirt, which hardly seemed fair, so I pulled it off him too. He then clasped me to him again, one of his hands in my hair, the other on my back. As we kissed, he slid his palm up and down my spine. His crotch ground into mine. I was so hard I was afraid I might come in my pants before he could get them off. The sensation of his calloused palm on my back was divine, as was the feel of his bare chest sliding over mine. I was completely hairless and, if I do say so myself, very fit. He had a small spray of coarse black hair on his chest, which scratched pleasurably as we writhed against each other. We were of a height, but he was broader through the shoulders, and very nicely muscled. He broke the kiss and slid his lips and tongue down my neck, my shoulder, finding my nipple and teasing it. I gasped. I had no idea that would feel so good.

As he moved between my nipples and I moaned, my head thrown back, his hands grasped my belt and unbuckled it. Before I realized it, he'd undone my jeans and dragged them down my legs, falling to his knees in front of me. He grasped my hips and turned me so the bed hit the back of my legs. I half-fell, half-sat, and when my feet came off the ground he pulled my jeans off completely. He pushed my knees apart with his hands and knelt there between my legs.

"Any time you want me to stop," he said, his voice thick, "just tell me."

"God no," I said. "You do ... whatever you want. Please."

He smiled then, and placed a slow hand where my cock strained at my boxer briefs. "You're beautiful," he said, lightly tracing the outline of my cock with his fingertips. I shivered. "And THIS is beautiful," he added, giving it a squeeze.

Very slowly, almost prissily, he pulled the waistband of my underwear down so that only the head of my cock was exposed.

"VERY beautiful," he said again, and leaned forward.

My eyes rolled back in my head when I felt the tip of his tongue flicker featherlike against my glans. He leaned in and added more pressure so that his tongue squirmed against it. Slowly he pulled down my underwear and followed its progress with his tongue. I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the sensation. I felt him pull my underwear down my legs as he tasted the length of my cock, pausing at my balls for an instant before slowly swiping his tongue over my sensitive sack.

"Oh. Fucking. Jesus." I heard myself say from miles away.

He chuckled, and ran his tongue back up the underside. Suddenly wondering why in hell I had my eyes closed for this, I looked down at him just as he looked up. His eyes, smoky with desire, locked on mine and he swirled his tongue in circles just beneath the head of my cock. What he was doing with his tongue felt divine, but it was his eyes that put me over the edge. "Ohfuckohfuck," I said, and without warning I came.

He caught the warning and dove back down. I felt his hot mouth engulf my cock as I came in one, two, three jets ... he moaned and chuckled around my cock as he swallowed. When I finally finished squirting, he held me in his mouth for a moment, slowly twisting his head in slow circles, and then, still keeping suction on my cock, pulled his mouth off with a wet pop.

He looked up at me and licked his lips.

"I have been dreaming of doing that," he said hoarsely, "all year."

With sudden urgency I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up, kissing him hungrily, giddy from the feel of his lips, wet and swollen from sucking me, and the salty taste of my cum in his mouth. I reached down for his belt and managed to unbuckle it after a few frantic seconds, shoving his pants down.

"Lie down," I whispered, and he obliged, clambering up onto the bed and lying with his legs splayed. He wore tight blue boxer briefs that looked as if they were painted on his cock. A wet spot darkened the fabric where the head hid. It was all I could do not to tear off the underwear and dive down on his cock. Slow down, I said silently, forcing myself to take a ragged breath. This was my first cock. And more than that, HIS cock, which I'd been fantasizing about all year. With trembling hands I peeled his underwear down, revealing the purple, engorged head slick with precum. The shaft was thick and pulsed visibly as he watched me with eyed hooded with lust. He lifted his ass off the bed so I could be rid of the underwear, and there he was, beautiful, his cock hard and waiting for me. He was about seven inches long and slightly thicker near the head, and it was perfectly straight, hard and quivering. I resisted the urge to touch it—I wanted to taste him first, and so leaned down and ran the tip of my tongue up its length. He smelled of musk and tasted salty and hot. I reached the head and ran my tongue around in his precum for a moment while he moaned. I licked him up and down a few times, trying to bring more of the surface of my tongue to bear, trying to taste him as much as I could. "God ..." he moaned in a long, drawn-out rumble. I looked up, my tongue swirling around the base of his cockhead. Our eyes met, and he whispered, "Suck me." I slid my mouth around the head and slowly took his shaft as far as I could. I made it halfway down before it hit the back of my throat and I gagged. I brought my hand up to clasp the base of his shaft—fuck, it was so hot, so hard, and felt so good in my palm—and started to stroke him in time to bobbing my mouth up and down over as much as I could take.

I felt like an amateur, but it didn't seem to bother him. He moaned and writhed as I sucked him, and his hands locked in my hair. I paused for a moment on the downstroke, twisting my head as he had done, letting my tongue squirm against the base of his cock. I lifted off of him breathlessly, sliding my hand up and down his slick length, pausing to rub my thumb over his slippery glans. He was leaking precum copiously. I leaned forward again and lapped it up while I stroked him. I couldn't get enough of the feeling of his cock in my hand, like iron sheathed in velvet.

"Fuck," he gasped, "I'm close."

I took him back in my mouth again, my heart racing even faster than it already was at the thought, at last, of feeling someone cum in my mouth, a fantasy I had entertained from the moment I started masturbating. His entire body stiffened, his hands clutching the bedspread, and he let out a keening moan. His cock, already large and swollen in my mouth, seemed to grow even more, swelling near the head, and suddenly I felt him explode.

Good god, it was hot, like something from a kettle. I felt it hit the back of my mouth in a molten burst. I swallowed as quickly as I could, pulling back so that just the tip of his cock was in my mouth, and after a moment I was able to keep up with his ecstatic jets. He tasted of the sea, salty and slightly fishy. He was delicious.

For a moment he lay gasping while I nuzzled his softening cock, reluctant to let it go, and then suddenly I felt his hands on my shoulders, guiding me up. He kissed me deeply.

"That was incredible," he breathed. "I don't believe that was your first time."

I shrugged, feeling his skin slide against mine as we lay beside each other, entwined. "It was."

He chuckled. "Well, you're either a natural, or I just wanted you so much that ... well, let's just say seeing you smile was sometimes almost enough to make me cum in my pants."

I blushed, delighted. "I had no idea," I said honestly.

"No, I don't imagine you did. You're one of those guys who has no idea how beautiful he is."

I kissed him, running my hand up and down his chest. "You're beautiful, too."

He didn't answer, but dropped his hand to my cock, which was hard again. Who am I kidding? It had never gone soft, and even now was leaking. I moaned as he closed his hand around my shaft and started to stroke me. He chuckled in that throaty way that I was learning to love.

"Well, since this is your first time," he whispered, "is there anything else you'd like to do?"

"Like what?" There was so MUCH I wanted to do, but in that moment the pleasure of his hand sliding over my cock blotted out thought.

"Like ... would you like to fuck me?"

I nearly came right then. "Yes," I gasped, barely able to get the word out.

Without speaking, he rolled over to his night table and took out a small tube. He squirted a cool gel on my cock and stroked my length slowly. He reached down between his legs and smeared some on himself. Putting the tube back, he rolled me over so I lay on top of him and shimmied himself up so that I felt my cock slide down his, felt the tickle of his pubic hair on my cockhead, and then the warmth between his legs.

He put his hands on either side of my face.

"Fuck me, Henry."

He opened his legs wider and, inching down on the bed a bit, slid himself down so that my cock pressed against his hole.

Tentatively, barely daring to breathe, I pressed forward. There was some resistance at first, and when he winced slightly I started to pull back. But he reached down and, grasping my ass, held me there.

"Fuck. Me." He pulled me into him. I felt my cockhead pop through his sphincter, and he moaned.

I slid into him, my eyes rolling back in my head as I felt his hot, tight ass gripping my cock.

"Fuck me."

I slowly started to slide in and out, the sensations nearly overcoming me. He moaned, his fingertips raking across my back. "Yessssssss," he hissed, and kissed me deeply. "Just like that. Just. Like. That. Oh holy fuck ... holy fuck that feels sooooo good."

I sped up a bit and he moaned again. "Yes. Fuck me hard."

"Fuck," I gasped.

"You like that, baby?"

"Holyshit. Yes."

"Fuck me hard."

I sped up again and he arched him back, pushing himself onto my cock.

"Tell me when you're close."

"Yes. Getting close."

"OK. Stop for a moment. Hold it in me."

I stopped, gasping, and for a few moments we kissed. He pulled off of me and rolled over, getting on his hands and knees.

"Fuck me from behind."

All year I had snuck glimpses of his ass. Now he raised it, naked and hungry, just for me. Just for my cock. I didn't need any more encouragement—I grasped his hips and found his hole again with my cockhead.

"Fuck me," he moaned. "Fuck me again."

I slid into him and he pushed back against me.

"Fuck yessss," he said as I started fucking him, slowly at first. He ground back against me, twisting his hips. "Yes. Yes. There. Holy fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

I loved the way he talked. "You like that?" I asked.

"You know I do, baby. You have such a beautiful cock. I want to suck you again later, feel you come in my mouth again."

"Fuck, I'm close," I whimpered.

Again he made me stop. We did that several times, him making me draw it out, talking dirty to me, begging me to fuck him. We changed position again so he was on top of me, and then again so I was on top facing him.

"I want you to cum, baby," he whispered as I fucked him slowly. "I want to feel you cum."

His cock was hard again. I felt it against my belly as I fucked him, felt it drooling its precum on me. I reached down as I fucked him and started stroking his cock in time to my movements.

"Cum for me," he moaned.

That put me over the top.

"Holyfuckholyfuck," I gasped.

He chuckled, his legs crossing behind me and keeping him impaled on my cock as spasmed inside him.

"Good boy," he whispered. Still inside him, I stroked his cock faster. His breath started getting ragged.

"Oh yes," he murmured. "Yes. Oh god, I'm going to cum."

I felt his cock swell in my hand and suddenly it was slick with his juice as he gasped and moaned. We laid there for a long time like that, unspeaking, my cock inside him and his cum sticky between us. Finally, he gave me a deep, soulful kiss and suggested we shower.

We fooled around a bit under the hot water, soaping each other up and paying special attention to each other's cocks. I was quickly hard again, and his rose to half-mast in my hands, but as he pointed out with a smile, shower sex is not nearly as glamorous as it seems in the movies. We toweled each other off and climbed under his sheets naked. I lay half on his chest, lazily running my fingers over his skin while we talked—rehashing the past year, remembering moments when one of us had been particularly turned on by the other, rueful at being oblivious. Though it was just as well, he pointed out, given that as my TA, he couldn't have done anything about his attraction to me.

"But now it's all good, right?" I asked.

He laughed. "So long as you don't take any more classes with me, yes."

I mock-pouted. "But I was hoping to learn so much from you."

"Well ..." he slid his hand under the sheets and grasped my hardening cock. "I suppose there's always private lessons ..."