My first gay lover

You remember I told you about Jacob, my crush in the first year of college? Obviously, after that incident in the kitchen we started seeing a lot more of each other. I guess he was my first boyfriend, in that bright and breezy first blush of a crush that develops slowly into something like love.

We made an odd couple – or maybe I perfect one, depending on how you look at it. I was still wound tight and anxious about my sexuality, he was casual and relaxed, having accepted himself years before. I was nervous and shy, he was playful and outgoing. I don’t know what he saw in me… but in him I saw not only cute, bright eyed dark haired guy (with an amazing ass), but also a brighter, sunnier side to the world. He showed me how life could be, away from all my worries about who I was and what that meant. The fun that you could have if you just let yourself be yourself.

I learned a lot from him, I guess. I guess a lot of who I am now comes from time spent with him, in that first year.

Maybe it’s because of how much I’d kept my sexuality to myself when I was growing up, or maybe it’s just because I’m quite a shy person, but I’ve always liked the excitement of a clandestine affair. At first, me and Jacob didn’t let on to anyone what was going on between us, and those were the most exciting times of all.

When you start at college you quickly get lots of friends, all sorts of people. Like I said, me and Jacob were sharing a house and we had other people there, too. Every Friday night we used to have a meal, all of us together. There were five of us – three boys and two girls, including me and Jacob. On the Fridays just after me and Jacob had started sleeping with each other, we would always make sure to sit next to each other at the table, and as we ate and drank and talked with our friends would always wrap our legs around each other’s, under the table…

Desire – that kind of desire where you can come so close, but no closer, where you can feel it and want it but still have it denied, leaving you still wanting, wanting more – desire is incredible. We would eat and drink without tasting, talk without hearing, all the time lost in each other, no one else suspecting a thing.

As the meal finished and we sat around the table, drinking, chatting, I remember how has hand would fall casually down, first gently brushing against my thigh then slowly, slowly moving up and along toward my crotch. My hard cock straining against my jeans, longing to be let free but forced to stay trapped; his fingers, his gripping me all the time.

He used to have such a devilish grin on his face, he’d glance at me as he saw I’d stopped talking, stopped being able to talk, too distracted by his wandering hands, his grip, squeezing and teasing me as I tried so hard not to gasp, not to give in. He enjoyed it, I’m sure, teasing me and knowing there was nothing I could do to get release, to stop him; knowing he had me trapped.

Eventually the drinks would stop flowing, the conversation would die down, and we would all go back to our rooms, to bed; Jacob would drag me along, still with that grin on his face; knowing that after hours of him teasing me, hours of me holding back, that he was in for a wild night!