Sebastian Embraces His Sexuality Part 1
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SEBASTIAN EMBRACES HIS SEXUALITY
An Imaginary Homoerotic Story
by
Jason
This is the second of a series of short stories each of which can be read as a stand-alone piece. However, as they tied together by some of the characters, who, in one way and another, figure in several of these tales, I recommend my readers to read them in the order in which they were written which is as follows:-
1. Sebastian's Schooldays
2. Sebastian Embraces His Sexuality
3. Sebastian – The Male Escort
4. Sebastian Meets Simon
5. Simon and Sebastian
6. Simon and Sebastian Meet Chris
7. Simon and Sebastian in San Francisco
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
In July 2010 I left Sheldon School aged eighteen and a half. Sheldon had no career's master or advisor and did not seem interested in what any of us would do once our schooldays were over. We all left Sheldon with or without our high school diploma, as the case may be and as far the powers that be of that establishment were concerned, that was that.
However, although I left Sheldon highly experienced sexually thanks to my relationship with Charlie Tennant, one of my classmates, I was nevertheless still an anal virgin, a fact which bothered me considerably. Although I had shafted Charlie innumerable times, I found it hard to imagine what it would be like to take another guy's cock up my own arse. It was something I knew I had, somehow, to come to terms with, but how?
I tried once to figure how many times I had shafted Charlie, and it was into the hundreds over the year and a half I had been fucking him. I realised that I was what must have been the junior butt fucker the year at Sheldon; but for my sins, I have to admit that I had enjoyed every minute of it. I do not know who coined the maxim: "fucking is a toy which never fails to please"; but he was spot on! So, here I was quitting school, pushing nineteen years of age, so what next?
As you can well imagine, in view of the remote relationship I had had all my life with my guardian, Aunt Agatha, I had personally not the slightest idea of what I was going to do; moreover, I had no idea of what I myself wanted to do. I had not been a particularly clever pupil at school and had scraped through the various public examinations which all pupils undergo during their school careers and came away from Sheldon with a high school diploma which, frankly, I had obtained by the skin of my teeth. In short, even with no guidance from any of the Sheldon staff, I had already realised that I was not college material, although no one had ever discussed my life after Sheldon with me.
During my final months at the school, as I grew into manhood, it had become increasingly clear to me that I was a confirmed homosexual: a gay, as the common parlance puts it. I have said earlier that I had known about my own sexual orientation from a much earlier age, but my final term at Sheldon when I was having regular sex with a classmate, Charlie Tennant, served to consolidate this fact in my mind.
I realised that I just had to accept the fact that I had no interest in the opposite sex whatsoever and that my entire sexual thoughts, with which I was totally preoccupied at this time, were directed towards the male sex. So here I was, knowing that I was gay but with no sexual experience at all beyond the circumscribed limits of Charlie Tennant's anus and with no idea what I should now do in life. And moreover, although it was Charlie who had first talked me into fucking him, he never showed the slightest inclination to share his own cock with me. So I left school as an experienced butt-fucker, but an anal virgin!
As I told you earlier, I had always excelled at athletics and had been a keen gymnast, with the result that by the time my eighteenth birthday arrived, I had developed a fine muscular physique, far better than that of any of my classmates. Additionally, I had been endowed by nature with a larger than average cock. In my final sixth months at Sheldon, I had spent a lot of my spare time in the gym, working out and building up my physique, so that by the time I left that establishment, I had a magnificently muscular body and a thick, eight-inch-long cock, which had my classmates green with envy.
My cock was, in fact, my pride and joy, for I had been cleanly circumcised at birth, with the result that my cock head, or knob as I call it, was very pronounced and set off to perfection with an excellent, clearly defined rim. All in all, my sexual equipment looked absolutely terrific. My balls were held high, tight to my body beneath my shaft, so that the vital combination of my man-meat and balls, formed one magnificent, cannon-like tool, of which I was inordinately proud. I just loved looking at myself naked in a mirror. I am, I suppose, an utter narcissist; but who cares? We are all what we are and have to live with ourselves as we are; I suppose that sounds a bit trite, but there it is; at least that is the way I see it myself.
Given my sexual orientation, I had also spent a good deal of time surfing the internet during my final months at Sheldon. I hate to think what the Prick (that's the nickname for the beloved (!) Headmaster: one Mr Woodderowffe Price) would have done to my arse with his rod if he had found out how I spent my spent my spare time on the computer.
Suffice it to say that by the time I left Sheldon, there was little I thought I did not know about the behaviour of gay men, a fraternity to which I realised that I would, sooner or later, have to belong. In short, I was theoretically fully aware of what my future life would be as a totally committed gay, but I had not the slightest idea of how I was to enter into the gay world to which I knew I belonged.
So I left Sheldon School and returned for the first time in years, to my Aunt Agatha's house in Boston: I really had nowhere else to go, so it had to be my first port of call. Of course, I was now of age, pushing nineteen years old, so that my aunt, my only living relative, was no longer my guardian; I was, so to speak, my own man, and could do as I pleased.
Aunt Agatha received me with little enthusiasm and it was then that I learned from her that I had, in fact, to my name a sum of some ten thousand dollars, which was all that remained of the patrimony which I had inherited on the death of my parents. I have to say, that I had had no idea that I had inherited anything from my parents, but it now transpired that I had been the beneficiary of a quite sizeable sum, which Aunt Agatha had thoughtfully used to pay for my schooling and upkeep at Sheldon.
So, in fact, since the age of two when my parents had been killed in the automobile accident, my dear aunt had paid all the expenses for my entire life out of my inheritance, of which I was now left with the small residual sum of around ten thousand dollars. Aunt Agatha had not spent a single dime of her own money on me during my entire life. The old trout was quite open about what she had done and handed me a detailed account as to how my money had been spent over the past sixteen years, which even included paying for the lunches to which she had taken me on her visits four times a year to Sheldon.
To her credit though, every last thing was broken out in detail. In fact, Aunt Agatha, dried-up old prune that she was, was evidently an account manqué as she knew exactly where my inheritance had gone; and so now did I! She turned out to have been an absolute skinflint; even the small presents she had sent me for Christmas and my birthdays over the years, turned out to have been paid for with my own money; neatly itemised, I might add.
So, with no warm feelings, of any kind at all, towards Aunt Agatha and without a clue what I was going to do, I packed my few belongings together, bought a train ticket to New York and, the next day, left Aunt Agatha and Boston forever. I neither kissed her goodbye nor did I thank her for looking after me, which she had manifestly not done; I just took what was left of my inheritance and left. I vowed, there and then, to myself that I would never ever treat anyone with such remote disdain as she had treated me: so there was at least one lesson I had learned from the old trout!
CHAPTER 2
I really had no idea what I was going to do in Manhattan. I had my patrimony in the form of the ten thousand dollars which my aunt had handed over to me and so I was not immediately destitute, but I was sufficiently worldly to realise that I had to find a job as my cash would not last long. Anyway, I had to find somewhere to live and after a few nights in a cheap hotel and studying the property to-let adverts in the papers, I found myself a small, furnished, two-room apartment with a kitchen and bathroom in a non-too-salubrious street on the Lower West-Side of the city.
I was able to rent the place on a monthly basis, so if things did not work out I could leave pretty quickly. All in all, it was a pretty grotty sort of place, but with cash tight I felt I had not much option. But at least I could afford it and I had a roof over my head whilst I got my bearings in this, to me, hitherto unknown city.
I also acknowledged to myself that without a regular job generating some steady income, my ten thousand dollars would soon be gone, so finding gainful employ was a top priority, but what? What, I asked myself, could I offer any prospective employer? My high school diploma was literally a useless piece of paper as far as I could see.
I splashed out and bought myself a laptop computer. One thing I had learned at Sheldon via the computer lab was that life was much easier with access to the Internet; so I now had the means to conduct my first orientation searches. What I quickly found out was that gays were super-well catered for at every level in New York life and so I started exploring a few bars to see what gay life was like in the city in the hope that I might get to know a few guys.
As I have already explained, I knew that I was totally and unequivocally gay, and I felt, from my surfing of gay-male sites on the internet that I knew the sort of things gay men got up to with each other, but I had no practical experience beyond Charlie's arsehole; in brief I was still nineteen-year-old anal virgin who had had one and only one sex partner to date! But, one thing was sure; I really did know how to fuck butt and I reckoned that I had a cock big enough to satisfy even the most demanding of arses!
My sexual urges were now so strong that I could hardly live with myself, and so, like so many others before me, I relieved my frustrations by regularly jerking off. Unfortunately, my brief visits to gay bars did little for me, for I soon realised that as a meeting place for like minds, such bars were not for me; they all seemed so very seedy and I could not see myself making friends with the sort of guys who frequented such places; and as for picking up a partner in such locations; well just forget it; I could see that it was never going to happen.
I began to ask myself if I was not just a snob; was I simply being too picky? But I somehow could not see myself ever becoming part of that scene, so what next? I realised that my cock desperately needed some exercise with a third party, but at the same time, I had to acknowledge to myself that I was incredibly scared of taking the first step in what was the real world. I suddenly realised just how much I missed the proximity of Charlie and being able to fuck him and that I had to find a new partner as soon as possible.
I also had to face up to the fact that sooner or later I would have to surrender my anal virginity to someone and let him, whoever he was, ream out my hole. Frankly, in spite of my own clearly defined sexuality, I was terrified at the thought of that first time, when another guy's cock would enter my body.
For that matter, even though I was fully experienced at fucking butt: one single butt: Charlie Tennant's butt, I asked myself how I would take the first step and stick my cock up the anus of some unknown guy. I felt I knew all about fucking butt, but when I analysed my feelings more deeply, I realised that I had no idea at all of how I would feel or perform when confronted for the first time with an unknown anus; and the more I thought about it, the more scared I became.
It was not the same as with Charlie and could never be the same. I was shit scared as I knew that I really didn't have a clue about the real gay world in which my future undoubtedly lay. Charlie had been the one who had originally come on to me, that day when we were alone in the showers and proposed that I fuck his hole and I had never given any thought as to how I would find an alternative harbour into which to dock my cock now that Charlie was but a memory: and a fast disappearing one at that, I might add.
So much for the private thoughts of a young man who thought that he understood everything about gay sex, but who found the practicalities of getting into the mainstream of gay sex somewhat daunting. Another burning problem was that I had to find a gym where I could continue to work out on a regular basis, as exercise was a key component of my regular life. Athletics and sport had been the two areas where I had excelled at Sheldon, but nevertheless, I did not see myself as a professional athlete.
I just wanted to keep fit and look after my physique, in which I had that deeply narcissistic interest which I have already mentioned. I just loved looking at myself naked in a full-length mirror and no one could have been a greater admirer of my cock than myself. All in all, I thought that I looked absolutely terrific naked, but what did others think of me? I really had no idea.
Although I was not yet sexually active in New York, I had given a lot of thought to what was generally called safe sex. Surfing the web, I had become acutely aware of the danger of HIV infection and its sequel, AIDS, and I realised that I had to get myself familiar with protective methods now that I was in the big city and on the prowl, so to speak. Anyway, I found a sex shop which sold everything a guy might need for his cock.
The checkout clerk was a really helpful, gay guy who showed me a recently introduced condom pack under the brand name Fukit, which he thought was an abbreviation for fuck-kit. The supplier had had the good idea of providing a flat pack of two strong condoms specially intended for gay sex together with two sachets of lubricant.
As the sales guy said, it really was a neat small flat-pack kit of fucker's requisites and handy for slipping into any pocket. He also pointed out to me how important lubrication was in anal sex, for as he explained, men just do not auto lube themselves in the way a woman does when sexually aroused, which was something which had never occurred to me. So, gay sex had to involve lubricants if it was to be comfortable as well as an erotic experience.
I wondered what had I done for lubrication all those times with Charlie. Looking back on it, I guess it had been a bit of spit and soap. It had not seemed a very important question at the time as with the enthusiasm of youth, I had just banged away at Charlie's hole and we had both taken the rough with the smooth. Lubrication with a specially designed lubricant was not anything which had ever crossed my mind until the sales clerk mentioned it.
Anyway I bought myself a couple of dozen of these useful packs and although I had never rolled a condom on to my cock in my life, I realised that the day I found that hitherto elusive first time partner, I would need to be ready and so I always made sure that I had a packet of Fukits on me.
Having kitted myself out with the bare necessities of safe-sex accoutrements, I decided to open up a Fukit pack and try putting on a condom in private so that I knew how to do it. My cock, eight inches long when soft, expanded to ten hard inches and I discovered that the Fukit rubbers were generously sized and long enough for me to sheath my entire tool. The Fukit lube pack was generous too. So I made sure that I offered up the rubber on the right way round so that I could unroll it over the length of my shaft.
I also decided that I needed to attend to my wardrobe, for I had only my old school clothes, which were not exactly fashionable and none of which did anything to enhance my figure. Remember, as I have already told you, like many young gays who were body and cock conscious, I had a strong narcissistic streak; I liked looking at myself and hoped that other guys would look at me with envy, so suitably sexy clothes emphasising my physique seemed important.
So, I decided to splash out on an entirely new wardrobe. Out went the old Y fronts which I replaced with a set of form-fitting thongs. I liked the idea of a well-cut thong to support my crown jewels as they avoided the elasticised back legs of normal briefs, which I had long thought spoiled the look of a guy's buns through the seat of his pants. I had quite a time finding the right type of pants and jeans, for I wanted something form fitting to show off my bubble butt with smooth uninterrupted curves.
At the same time, I wanted them to be sufficiently tight to show any onlooker that he was looking at an exceptional set of fuck tools. As I have said, I was proud of my body and kit and saw no reason not to make the most of it. Anyway, I finally found a shop which had what I wanted and bought myself several pairs of pants, some jeans, a couple of casual jackets and one designer type suit. I also acquired a dozen or so form-fitting shirts, which married themselves to my torso; and I included a couple which were artfully cut and I could leave largely unbuttoned to show off my abdominal muscles.
When I finally got myself dressed in one of these outfits for the first time, I looked at the results in a mirror and thought that I looked a very sexy and desirable stud. My upper clothes enhanced my muscles and my pants hugged my butt and gave me a discernible, but not too outrageous, a crotch bulge; I was pretty sure that I would have no problem drawing looks of envy, if not more!
I spent a very pleasant afternoon trying on my various outfits and admiring myself in the mirror. And, having finished admiring myself, I jerked off in front of the mirror and splattered it with a good dollop of my thick and creamy cum; and that was the nearest I had come to sex since my arrival in New York.
CHAPTER 3
Having got myself settled in my little apartment and kitted out with a completely new wardrobe, I realised that I had now seriously to address two key problems: getting myself a job and finding myself my first sex partner. Dame fortune luckily intervened and provided the solution to both problems.
I had picked up one of those advertising free-sheets which proliferate in large cities and started to read the jobs-vacant columns, where I came across a small ad placed by an establishment called Jonathan's Gym. Jonathan's Gym turned out to be located in an upmarket part of New York on the east side of Central Park in what seemed to be a very desirable street. Jonathan, whoever he was, was looking for a temporary trainer for his gym to replace one of his regular guys who had sustained a knee injury and would be out of action for about two months.
It was only a temporary post, but which, if I were successful in getting the job, would ease the pressure on my finances for a while and give me breathing space to find something more permanent. Also, I felt that this was an ideal job for me as you will remember that I was a keen gymnast and needed a place where I could work out myself a few times each week. So, I called Jonathan's Gym, and talked to the owner, Jonathan, himself, telling him about my athletic prowess and so forth. Well, the upshot was that he asked me to come along to the gym straight away so that he could see me in person.
For those of you who are not familiar with New York, that vast green area called Central Park is a great divider and separates the west-side from the better, more desirable east-side of upper Manhatten; and Jonathan's East Side Gym, for that was its name, was a really upmarket establishment, with every conceivable amenity; an absolute necessity in attracting rich, young east-side New Yorkers.
Of course, I was not one of these, in that I was not in any way rich, but this did not matter, as I came from a private school, was well spoken and had an upmarket name. Jonathan himself was a well-set-up guy, aged about thirty at a guess, and he and I hit it off immediately, so I got the job, which did not pay a huge salary, some $600 per week, which was sure better than nothing.
But Jonathan Smithers to give him his full name, also said that I could use the gym facilities myself in my spare time, which was a huge plus, as I absolutely needed a gym in which to work-out, which I could now do for free. Jonathan expected me to work a five-day-forty-hour week. The gym was open from eight in the morning until eleven at night and there were four trainers in addition to me; we were able to arrange our shifts to suit ourselves, as long as there were always two trainers on duty at any one time, which suited me just fine as I could spend time during the day trying to find a more permanent post.
The work was not onerous and consisted mainly of advising clients about the best type of exercise to achieve their hoped-for goals. Jonathan's was not an overtly homosexual establishment, but at a guess, I thought that the clientele was more or less evenly split between gay and straight guys. Nor was Jonathan's a naked gym; all clients had to wear at least a pair of training shorts. However, I noticed that some of the more adventurous guys were working out in thongs so that there was always lots of naked flesh and bulging crotches to look at; and look I did and with great pleasure, I might add.
To any gay, there is always a great attraction in looking at another guy's tools, and even though no one trained naked, there was a good deal of attractive crotch bulge to admire and to allow one to stretch one's imagination as to what was concealed might look like if ever it saw the light of day. I can tell you I needed to keep strict control of my own cock as just looking at some of the better-equipped guys, made my man-meat stir uncomfortably.
Not for nothing is it sometimes referred to as one's uncontrollable flesh; it has the unfortunate habit of telling its owner what it wants at the most inconvenient moments and it is up to you the owner to keep it under control. At the end of the day, it is much like walking a dog, which so often if given half a chance would drag the owner around. I can quite easily see how rape occurs; a guy simply cannot control himself; he lacks the self-discipline so necessary in life and by allowing his cock to dictate his actions, finds himself in a whole load of trouble.
We, the trainers, all wore the same outfit supplied by Jonathan: a well-cut pair of shorts and a tee shirt with the logo, Jonathan's emblazoned across the chest. Jonathan himself was often around and wore the same outfit. Judging from the bulge in his shorts, he was also well equipped in the man-meat department. For myself, when I was off duty and working out myself, I saw no reason not to show off my assets and so I always wore a simple thong, which showed off my naked bubble butt and made a very alluring bulge of my cock and balls, which ultimately led to my first breakthrough into the gay world. Here is how it all came about.
I had been working at Jonathan's about ten days, when, early one Monday evening I noticed one very well set-up young guy was watching me. That day, when I went into the changing room to get my towel for the shower, this fellow followed me into the shower room a few minutes later. He really had a very attractive muscular body and a decent cock, though not anywhere as big as mine. However, we found ourselves, at that moment, quite alone under the showers, He said, "I guess you are new around here as I have only seen you these last few days. My name is Craig: Craig Thompson."
"Sebastian Watson – nice to meet you," I replied. "I'm a temporary training assistant; I've only been here a few days; I'm just here on a two-month contract to replace that guy with the knee injury."
Craig was not backward in coming forward and came directly to the point. "I really admire your figure and your kit," he said, focussing his gaze on my crotch, "You are quite the best set-up stud I have ever seen in this gym. Look, I live not far from here, how about coming back to my place with me after we're done here and having a drink? It would let us get to know one another a little better if you see what I mean."
Well, of course, I could see what he meant. I really had no experience at all of being picked up by anyone, but this seemed to me to be quite the quickest pick-up I could have wished for. Anyway, there seemed little reason to refuse his invitation, as Craig was in a different league to the gays I had seen whilst trawling the gay bars, looking, unsuccessfully, for some casual sex, but having been put off by the sordid look of it all.
So we left Jonathan's together. Craig lived in an apartment block just a few minutes walk away from the gym. It was a truly up-market place with a uniformed doorman who called the elevator for us. Craig's place was absolutely enormous and beautifully furnished with modern furniture. It turned out that it was a penthouse suite and had a large roof terrace with a fine view back to Central Park.
Continued and concluded in Part 2
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