You know, I always though Brokeback Mountain was a shitty story. Until now, where my life seems to match up almost perfectly. I’m 2 years married to a beautiful woman, and I have one son. Several times a year I get together with a man named Johnny. He is my sick passion, my heated and hidden lover.
It first happened when I was 16 years old. Me and Johnny were good pals. I had never thought about him in any sexual way at all, he was just my best friend. I had gone over to his house one night for a sleep over. His parents weren’t home and weren’t going to be for several hours. It was pretty normal starting out, we played outside, ate junk food, made a huge mess. It was in a game of tag, I tripped over him and we were lying on top of each other. We sat there looking at each other for what felt like hours to me, but it was only really a second or two. Then he grabbed my hand and moved it to the bulge in his pants. I recoiled almost instantly you see, rather stunned by his advance. He didn’t quite give up though, leaning forward, and kissed me. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot back then, but I kissed him back and this time I gingerly touched his bulge. Then the mood shifted, I was frantically trying to undo his belt, and he mine. Our pants came off in a struggle, and before I could even do anything he had pushed me onto my back and was beginning to swirl his tongue over my head. I was bucking within minutes, but he stopped short of my orgasm and flipped me onto my back and with a bit of spit penetrated me. I was breathless by the time he finished, but it was my turn. I was hesitant at first, but then I pushed my shaft into his hole. It was heavan. I’ll admit, I wasn’t some masterful sex god, but it felt damn good to me. It must have to him, too, because after I finished he lay shuddering for a moment.
Me and Johnny still see each other, but neither of us has ever owned up to being gay and with each other.
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