Back then, I hadn't done it with many guys other then Eddie, my first lover, and one or two others (if you don't count sucking anonymous cock in backroom glory-holes or crusing Forest Park).
Now,
you have to picture what I looked like back then – five-foot-ten in my socks, 167
lbs., black nail polish, my shoulder-length dirty blond hair dyed black with
deep red streaks, black eyeliner, black, sleeveless tee-shirts with a couple of
holes (one shirt’s hole was strategically placed to show off my pierced left
nipple), black thread-bare jeans usually worn without anything more underneath
than my half-inch metal cock ring, black basketball sneakers and various
chains, bandannas and leather wrist bands.
I looked like the typical Goth kid.
It was the costume I had worn in high school; one to try to establish myself as different. For a while it had fit me and my mood, but as high school dragged on, some of my classmates saw beneath the shell I was wearing and decided they wanted to get to know me anyway. But by the time I had graduated, I had come to terms with my being gay and it cost me a number of people I thought were friends.
Anyway, so here I was, in Oklahoma, surrounded by cousins I didn’t know, nervous about what they might think of me and me looking like I was on my way to a heavy metal concert but ending up at a rodeo instead.
The drive to Oklahoma had taken the better part of a week and by the end of the second week at my great-aunt’s, my dye job was fading fast and there was nowhere for me to get what I needed to fix it. That’s when one of my female cousins got it into her head to give me a “make-over” – country-style. She borrowed all the clothes she needed from her brothers – boots, blue jeans, belt, a white tee-shirt, a plaid buttoned shirt and a Stetson hat. After a wash and shampoo, she managed to get my hair nearly back to its original dirty blond, cut and styled it the way she did for her brothers then told me to get dressed.
The only concessions I made to my former outfit was the metal bar in my left nipple and my cocking. But since no one saw these when I emerged, everyone was flabbergasted by my transformation. Great-Aunt Sarah barely recognized me and a few of her sons didn’t! I have to admit though it was nice to finally fit in and not feel like a freak.
After lunch, I went with some of my cousins to one of the movie theaters in Frederick. I can’t remember what we saw, all I remember is it was pretty awful. Afterward we shopped for new clothes for me so I wouldn’t have to keep borrowing my cousins’ clothes, and eventually ended up in this local honky-tonk. We spent the better part of the night dancing and drinking and having a great time.
Around 11 most of my cousins had left, leaving me with my cousin Clay, Chad’s younger brother by only eleven months. Less than an hour later, we also decided to leave the honky-tonk but instead of heading back to Great-Aunt Sarah’s, Clay took me back to the swimming hole for a midnight swim, something he had done many times with his buddies.
We were lying naked on the blanket Clay had set out before our swim just staring up at the sky. It was unbelievably packed with stars. Coming from New York City, I had never really seen that many stars. We were talking about growing up, comparing our lives, when he eventually asked me the question – the “Are you gay?” question.
I decided to take the bull by the balls so to speak and told him the truth. “Is that going to be a problem with you?”
“Shit, no,” Clay said. Then he reached over and gently took hold of my cock. “I’m gay too,” he confessed. “And I’ve wanted to get you alone and since we all went skinny-dippin’ the other day.”
That’s when he went down on me and gave me a great blow-job! We sucked and fucked under the stars for what seemed like hours – on the blanket, on the grass, in the water, back on the blanket, in the flatbed of his truck – it was fucking fantastic!
Clay and I did it a few more times while I was there, most of the time under the stars by the swimming hole. Although there was that night in his room, but that’s another story.
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