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Archive-name: FirstGay/ftg018.txt


Archive-title: My first...

    I really like this sub-board, and I envy all you guys that had

a really ideal, dreamy first time.  I'm relating my first time not

so much because it was the stuff fantasy is made of, but because

it was so unusual and unique in it's circumstances.  At lease I think

it is...I've never met anyone who had anything like this happen to

him.  Here goes...

    When I graduated from a public Jr. High about 12 years ago, I

decided that I wanted to attend a local all-boy's high school, because

at the time I had a very intense interest in becoming a priest in

the Roman Catholic church, and this was a Catholic school well know

for being an excellent prep school for future seminarians...not that

they only turned out priests, mind you.  Anyway, my local parish

church offered to pay my way, and I went.  I was 15 years old, very

innocent, and very naive.

    My first day at the school, I somehow captured the attention

of a certain priest, who stopped and talked to me at length.  He

was very warm and sweet to me, and I needed the positive attention

he was giving me because I was feeling very insecure.  He was handsome

and young-looking for his age, and though I can't say I was attracted

to him, I did feel him drawing me to him, charming me in a way I

had never yet experienced.  He was the prior of a seminary near where

I lived, and he offered to give me rides to school from then on,

so I wouldn't have to take the bus.  At this point, I suspected nothing,

not realizing that even a "man of the cloth" could be capable of

ulterior motives.

    As time passed, "Father" and I became very close friends.  He

often invited me to the seminary to have supper, after which we would

go to his private room and we would talk or he'd help me with my

homework (I needed the help...I was carrying 7 solids that semester!).

After a while, he very carefully developed a physical neutrality

between us...he thought nothing of reaching out and touching me on

the arm, the neck, the back, the chest...he'd even pat my flat, hard

little tummy and rub it, and chuckle.  He eventually began hugging

me...not little innocent hugs, but long, meaningful ones that I had

never had from my father;  I didn't understand what was happening,

and I wasn't sure it was "right", but I liked it.  Throughout Jr.

High I had gradually come to a subliminal realization that I was

gay, though at the time I don't think I attached that label to it.

I remember having watched all my friends take off their clothes in

the locker before and after Gym class, and lusting after them passionately

all the while wondering why I felt that way, yet never questioning

it.  It is therefore little wonder to me that I enjoyed "Father's"

advances...they were what I had been wanting all along.

    At any rate, our meetings became more frequent when I began to

work at the church adjoining the seminary shortly thereafter.  I

was going over to see "Father" about every other night, and his embraces

and touches were becoming more and more intense.  One night, he laid

me down on his bed with him and he slowly worked a hand down the

front of my pants.  I got so hard I thought I would explode, and

it felt so damned gooooood!...but I was scared to death too!  The

conflicting emotions battled in my head while he kissed me and helod

me in his arms for hours.  Finally, he opened my pants, and started

to try to pull them off.  I don't remember what I was feeling as

he started to do this, but I remember him looking at me, and then

getting a sweet, compassionate look on his face...and then without

saying anything, he fastened my pants again and just held me for

a while.  What a look I must have had on my face!  I felt relieved.

The pressure was off, and I was safe again in his arms.  I am to

this day thankful that he did not press his advantage at that time,

because I know now I was not ready, and he, in his wisdom, realized

that.  On my way home on my bicycle that night, I resolved that no

matter what "Father" wanted to do with me, the next time we got together,

I would let him have his way.  I tingled with anticipation.

    A few nights later, I went to the seminary knowing that I would

leave there a different person.  I had supper with "Father" and the

seminarians (who, incidentally, seemed utterly oblivious to what

was going on, as was my family), and, having had a little more wine

than I was usually accustomed to (yes, they let me drink!), I went

with "Father" to his room.  He began almost immediately seducing

me, holding me and fondling me to a purpose, and for the first time,

I began reciprocating.  Each caress and kiss of his was answered

with one of my own as we melted into each other.  Gradually, almost

imperceptibly, items of clothing disappeared from our bodies until

at last we were blissfully naked together.  I remember feeling like

the touch of his soft skin was the most beautiful sensation I had

ever experienced, and the soft, long, downy black hair of his body

against my lily-white, nearly hairless skin stimulated me as I concentrate

d on every last nerve ending in my body, not wanting to miss a single

sensation.  His mouth found its way to my swollen cock and he sucked

me until I thought I would scream!  Then we bagan to masturbate each

other, slowly and gently at first, gradually increasing in speed

and intensity.  When he came, I was enthralled...I had never seen

another man ejaculate before, and I was fascinated.  Then I situated

myself on top of him and, rubbing against his belly while we kissed,

stimulated myself to an explosive orgasm.  We lay together for a

long time after it was over, saying nothing, enjoying each other.

At last, he said to me, "what a wonderful love we tender,

so free...", and he trailed off, looking at me with true love in

his eyes.  I was too overwhelmed to feel any specific emotions, but

I nodded agreement, and snuggled close to him.

    In the ensuing 2 years, I suppose "Father" and I became lovers,

though I can't say I ever really fell in love with him.  Though we

continued to make love regularly, I still loved him more like a son

loves his father...he was the "daddy" I never really had.  By the

time I broke off my friendship with "Father", for various personal

reasons, we had experienced a great closeness, and I was ripe and

ready to explore other men as we had explored each other.  Writing

this has been an excercize in appreciation of this experience for

me, I think, for in doing so, I have realized that I have fonder

memories of it than I thought.


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