My little single bed was squeaking under the pressure as Shawn and I made love for the third time that morning. A new lover and everything becomes centered on just making each other happy. Feeling a guy’s cock embedded deep in me was something I’d never really got used to but Shawn’s magnificent, sturdy love-muscle had opened me up to new and thrilling experiences. It was also very unusual for me to take anyone back home as I lived with my mother and stepfather, so it never seemed appropriate to inflict my latest shag on them but Shawn was different. I wanted everyone to meet him. He was good-looking, tall, funny and seemed to have a way of putting people at ease when he was in their company. I’d noticed it at the bar when I first saw him but didn’t know who he was. Though not quite a local celebrity, in the gay community he was very well known. A bit of a gay-rights champion, organizer of the gay football team, captain of the gay rugby club and volunteer on the local Gay Switchboard. Being on every gay committee… he was much loved by everyone and not only for his enthusiasm and great organizing ability. Normally in gay circles, bitchiness is rampant and guys gain ‘reputations’ whether they deserved one or not. Shawn was different. I’m sure he had his detractors somewhere but I never heard them so, when he sidled up to me a couple of months back and asked if I wanted a drink, I couldn’t actually believe my luck. That first night we went back to his place and he gently wanked me off as we kissed and hugged. He knew I wasn’t ready for the ‘full works’ and although in my heart I just wanted him to take me and shag me all night long, I loved the way he refused to let his, or my, passion rule a nice sensual introduction. However, a few nights later I was back at his place and he made love to me like there was no tomorrow, and, although I was taken slightly by surprise, I actually loved his dominant ‘take charge’ attitude. I liked Shawn a lot and wanted everyone to know I was with him. So, come Saturday night, instead of going to a gay club, he came and met my family and we spent the night with them drinking, listening to a terrible act and playing bingo at the local Working Men’s Club. Yes, everyone loved him and even the rough guys in the snooker room wanted him to have a game with them. The look of disappointment on their faces when he “…sadly had to refuse” was only altered when he promised to play another time. Back home we’d drunkenly gone to bed with the families blessing, they knew we’d be sleeping together and it just wasn’t an issue. “As long as you’re happy” were my mum’s words. And I was, desperately happy. Up until Shawn, I don’t think I can ever remember screaming out in ecstasy during sex or begging for an immediate repeat performance. Shawn’s total domination of my senses and my body had been a fantastic revelation, so all I wanted was to take more of what he had to offer. He knew intuitively what to do… and where to do it… to take me on that sexual thrill ride. The squeaking bedsprings and banging headboard got faster, while my moans of desire got louder. I stretched out on the mattress opening myself up as wide as possible to take every centimetre of his superb probing and stimulating dick. With each deep penetration and thrust I was crying in lustful agony. My mum called up the stairs that our Sunday morning breakfast fry-up was ready. “Coming” I shouted back and, once again, Shawn and I did just that… in perfect spunky unison.
- The White Boy Can Sing! – By Jason Guy
- Dear Simon