A gay story: In My Garage: Turned Out Bradley opens up about his vice, and what turned him on to it.
I had my first sexual experience, albeit with a woman, at 19, during my freshman year of college year. Right after, I endured the college gauntlet for two years in earning various twat to lick and stuff, but I would fantasize of being the one on the receiving end of a dick deep inside me, whether mouth or ass, each time, I’d explode, seeing the woman gratified in thinking she made me do it. I quit college after those two years and joined the Army, when my fantasy came true right after I finished basic training in South Carolina while stationed in Korea, where I would get close to Kevin, a short, muscle-bound guy from Louisiana, who, like me, had a thing for comic books.
“Marvel or DC,” he asked one day at the gym.
I answered Marvel, and we hit it off and shortly exchanged books as we both worked in security. One evening we were on post, as everything was quiet when we discussed the things we missed back home, including walking to comic book stores.
“I miss pussy,” he said to me. “You do, too, right?”
“Damn, that’s random as fuck,” I said in response.
“You don’t miss it? I wish I could be laid up right now with some chick,” he added.
I was coy, wanting to admit that pussy wasn’t of my real interest, but couldn’t, instead speaking of food.
“A hot dog? You miss hot dogs? Why not a piece of ass from a woman? You know, when you slide that cock in her, you hit the right spot, and she squirms and moans? The scent of a woman? The feel? That don’t turn you on,” he asked.
He kept poking and I admitted to him that I liked men more, and that I was the one who wanted to provide that pleasure a woman did. He looked smitten at first, confused as to why would I want to be with another man in that capacity. We were quiet the rest of the shift, but hours later when we made it back to the barracks, he knocked on my door, entered, and we kissed, as this was the gateway to him taking my cherry that morning. He was desperate and horny like me, and we both fed our need as he spread me open like a flower, banging me good to where I would swell after. Every weekend after for two years, we’d hang out, and he’d bend me over in the barracks in order to give it to me good, as he’d say.
“You my bitch behind them closed doors,” he told me once.
I heeded it, and we never “acted gay,” as I kept perpetrating, pretending, and playing along in liking women, fucking them occasionally, and even eating their pussies, but my ass belonged to Kevin per his weekly reminders. I only stopped short of tattooing his name below my ass as his an ode to him, you know, his personal tramp stamp, but then he was discharged, left the country, and I wouldn’t hear from him again. I couldn’t find anyone else to play with, as Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, was certainly in motion at that time, so I endured the law for four more years before deciding to call it quits and receive an honorable discharge, and live life.
“You’re making a huge mistake in leaving the service, young man,” I remember my mother telling me.
Truth was, war was brewing not only with this country, but within myself, as I wanted to be free. I tried to break away from what I thought was this “curse” of just wanting to get penetrated by another man. I met and married Mandi, a nurse, I went to a trade school and earned my HVAC license, then we left California, moving to Seattle where we had two daughters and one son, and forged a beautiful life. Things seemed perfect in our two-story, four bedroom home, we seemed happy, but a void in me was still needing to be filled, literally. I needed dick, but had no wants of cheating on my wife. I only entertained internally the thought of a threesome, with me and another guy, a black guy, doting all over her, then he giving it to me the same as he did her. I didn’t have the courage to even ask to bring another soul into our bedroom, for I knew she’s be crushed in knowing someone else could provide me sexual gratification.
May 11, 2003 however, I left the house for a job, and this would change everything.
“Bradley, you have a couple gigs in Bellevue today. Big money action with Teddy,” said Carl, the owner and dispatcher of the company I worked for.
Teddy, a vet just like me, was a younger HVAC tech who was still considered an apprentice. He had a knack for using his hands and just an overall quick learner, as we linked on a few jobs prior to this day. I liked the slick-talking, Chicago native, as we’d discuss topics such as food, women, and sports, and how one place in the country was better than the other, as he was a Chicago Southside native, and I was born and raised in San Gabriel Valley of Los Angeles.
“Bulls over Lakers forever man, I care less what you say,” we argued once we got to the job site.
This man was delusional as the Los Angeles Lakers were in another prime season, but I loved and respected the 20-something to where we kept it all fun and games. We had a hard project to deliver on at this refurbished home, as we were tasked to break down the central air unit, and to replace some internal vents within the domicile.
“You wonder why Carl puts us on the hardest jobs at times,” Teddy complained while driving in the work van to the site.
I explained how it worked with Carl, as being put on the roughest jobs usually meant he liked you, and the rewards would be abound as a result.
“The good jobs, the easy ones with easy pay will be right around the corner for you. He assigned me to work with you to test you, so to speak. Let’s get ‘er done,” I told him.
We started at 9 a.m., and finished what was supposed to be a two day gig, at 5 p.m. that evening. I called Carl to let him know we were finished and heading back to the office to turn in the truck.
“You two head over to Benny’s, two rounds on me. I already set it up with the bartenders there,” he told me, as he had clout at the local bar.
We did as directed and had our two rounds, but Teddy and I learned we truly enjoyed each other’s company when bourbon was involved. We had two more rounds, enough to where embellishment was taking place. I started looking at the slender, caramel skinned stud with the big smile in a different light. I paid attention to his crotch area as he wasn’t hard, but not unnoticeable.
“What you looking at? I spill something on my pants,” he asked, becoming paranoid.
I laughed, then he looked back up as we made eye contact.
“You didn’t spill anything,” I said to him, with a wink.
The closeted urges I had from Kevin railing me, came back front and center, as this felt like the perfect opportunity to act upon. Teddy was smiling, sipping his drink as his cheekbones were full. He understood what was happening, and responded.
“Where else would you rather be,” he asked me.
“Not here, and definitely not with all these clothes on,” I said to him.
“So you think you could help me out with something,” he asked. “I need, I really need some…..help, you know?”
You would’ve thought we were in private the way we were talking, but the bar was packed, with people within ear shot of each other. I didn’t care, for not a soul knew me in our vicinity. I paid the tab, then we got up and left, with me snagging a taxi when we walked outside. I directed the Asian guy to get us to the nearby cheap motel. We behaved in the car, and when we made it to the lobby to check in, but once I opened the door to the room, all hell broke loose as my thirst was on full display. I was taller, and a bit more portly than Teddy at six foot two, 250 lbs., but I got naked with all intentions of surrendering my body for his pleasure once we got undressed. He sat on the edge of the bed, with me between his knees, showing him my skills that were extended beyond a tool box.
“Got damn, how you really feel,” he asked, as I showed him how much I loved black cock.
I groveled over his seven inch prick, with its curled, veiny shaft, and pink head, one beautiful stick that rivaled what I used to receive in my backside many moons before. I barely came up for air as I went down on him, repeating the act of bobbing my head up and down his stick as saliva leaked from my mouth for traction. He gripped the sheets, moaning in delight as I was giving this young king what he deserved. The liquor enhanced my fondness for this young man, this fellow veteran, and aspiring technician that made his appreciation for my actions through sounds.
“You gon’ make me cum, Bradley,” he whimpered.
“And I want you to,” I told him.
“No seriously, unless you want to swallow, you better let me jerk it out,” he added.
I snickered while I looked up to see him clenching the sheets even more, the veins in his neck sticking out as he was enjoying himself, then me pushing his chiseled chest so he could lean back as I kept massaging his manhood with the combination of my lips and tongue. A slither of his man juice slipped out, and I wanted more, so I worked hard in gripping his cock to make him release.
“Fuck Brad, man, you gon’ make me mess up these sheets,” he said.
He wouldn’t, as I wasn’t one to let a drop of cum hit anywhere else other than my throat or anus. I started teasing his balls as I felt them harden, and his moans get heavier, with me matching the sounds to encourage him to baste the back of my throat. The joy I experienced in making a man cum reflected that of a plane landing after a long flight, as I’d hear him squeal, lament or sometimes scream, like Teddy would, and I’d inhale that seed, whether it be in my walls or my esophagus.
“Bradley, man, you can’t do this. Bradley,” he yelled.
He spilled it all down my throat, and was shaking when it was over as he became sensitive.
“Good fucking cum,” I whispered to him, and I wanted every drop, pulling away from his cock only to lick his balls to see if any ‘leftover’ would rise.
He pushed me away while laughing, as he was ticklish. I laughed, too.
“So you enjoyed it,” I asked after, while rubbing his thigh.
“Enjoyed it? Man, you can really suck some cock. I might have to see you more often,” he told me.
It was then that reality hit, for we both still had to go home, one to a wife that was probably worried sick. I looked at my watch to see it was 9:45 p.m., as somehow, time got away from us. He wanted to shower, but I got dressed immediately as I didn’t need to feed any of Mandi’s insecurities. Once he finished, I called us a taxi and we left the motel, tossing the key in a drop box before making it back to the bar. We both were sober when I got behind the wheel of the work van, and headed back to the office to drop off our tools, then head our separate ways. I didn’t know whether to thank Carl the next day, or curse him, as I appreciated the free rounds, but he turned me back in a direction I tried hard to, and could no longer avoid: playing with cock.
Until next time……