LINKS: THE INITIATION
Eighteen was a good year for me. It was the dawn of my adulthood and my ability to discover porn on a much deeper level than I had been able to prior.
My fantasies ran wild all by myself. Just me and my dirty gay mags would keep me entertained for hours before any of my family members would make it home. I had it made.
I would jack off three, four, sometimes five times in a day. Sometimes it was in the bathroom with just my thoughts and my hand. Other times would be in my bed room with the door closed, entertaining myself with my porn stash. I aways kept them mainly in my backpack. I knew if my mom decided to clean my room, that would be the one place she wouldn't go.
I would lay in my room, on the floor with my back against the door, mag in one hand, my dick in the other. Needless to say I enjoyed my mags very much.
An entertainment I would soon discover just as fun as the pictures were the adds. All of these sexy adds of guys with their shirts open, staring seductively at the camera while holding an old-fashioned phone while the cord would be wrapped half way around their bodies.
The lure would be in dirty catch phrases to get you to call their number (in small print of course) for only 99 cents a minute.
I thought, “Who would be desperate enough to pay for that?”
Well…
At first I thought it was absurd. Then, the curiosity started eating away. There was just one problem.
There was no way I could call on the phone at home.
I would have my first job at eighteen working for a taco place. The food was gross but I loved those paychecks. I had convinced my parents that it was time for me to have my own separate phone line. They agreed as long as I understood it was my responsibility to pay my own bill.
My first call was to my friend that lived down the street and around the way from me. Finally I could talk without walking all the way out to the kitchen.
It would not be long before curiosity of what those phone chat lines were about struck me.
I had no idea what to expect but was excited to find out. What I discovered with my first phone call was a lot of aggressively horny men saying some of what sounded like the most outlandish stuff I've ever heard.
Of all of the details I could remember, none would stick out more to me than the guy that told me he wanted me to make his pussy fart.
What the living fuck?
First where would I find a pussy on a man?
Well, this was over 35 years ago. This was way before it became norm to refer to any part of a man's body as a pussy.
Ask me today where the pussy on a man is.
I found it a little overwhelming with overzealous men saying crazy things to me. It was a little weird. But it didn't stop me from getting off on it.
It is safe to say that all of the men that were on that line I talked to were mostly over 30 with plenty of them 40 plus. At the time It was quite intriguing
that so many grown men were showing me so much
sexual attention. But then again, the fact that anyone was showing me sexual attention was exhilarating.
I had always created my own little fantasy world. The fact that I had another person in it was phenomenal. There was no doubt in my mind at this time that I was gay.
One evening while everyone else was doing whatever in their rooms or in the living room, I made a call to the chat line. I connected with a guy from Texas.
"Hello?"
"Hello." He responded with a deep voice.
"How's it going," He asked.
"I'm fine," I said with a giggle.
If anyone would ask to describe what a giddy little kid sounds like, a picture of me would probably pop up.
"You have a cute laugh. How old are you?"
"18," I said.
"Oooh!" He said, as if I had said a bad word.
"What?" I asked.
"How old are you?"
There was a pause.
"42."
I felt every nerve in my body tingle.
"Wow!"
"I usually chat with guys more in my age range." He said.
"So, what's your name," he continued.
"Mark."
"Nice to chat with you. I'm Heath."
"So, Mark. What are you wearing," he asked.
I have no idea what I was wearing, nor I remember What he was wearing. I do remember his description.
He was 42 and White. He had short dark brown hair with a mustache.
I remember instead of him telling me he wanted to do this to me or that, he asked me specific details about what I looked like and what I was wearing. I remember the more we described each other the heavier both of our breathing got.
I remember him asking me to do certain things such as take this and that off. Then would describe what he was taking off. He wanted to know how I was touching myself and let me know what he was doing to his body. It was a brand new way of discovering masturbation.
This was my very first time hearing what another man sounds like when he was touching himself. And not just any man but a grown man. A forty two year old adult.
The way he breathed heavily and the way I heard him moan and the loud growl coming out of this man when he shot his load made me explode.
"Yes, yes!"
"Shhhh! You don't want your family to hear you," he chuckled.
As I came down from my erotic high, my emotional level rose.
"I love you, Heath."
There was a pause.
"Don't say that. Don't play with me like that."
"I'm sorry. What did..."
He interrupted me.
"You are a great kid. Of all the guys I've chatted with you were one of my favorites. This was very different for you. But it's not fair to you or me to get emotionally involved into something that most likely won't be."
He was absolutely right.
It was a high. A euphoric moment that caught me in my feelings. It is a moment I feel with those that I deeply connect with.
I am a sentimental marshmallow that feels deeply in intimate moments. I feel it with the main guys in my sex circle such as LB and Logan and more. I just don't have to blurt out, "I love you" like a 18 year old giddy kid anymore.
That summer was an area code (900) summer. It was also the summer I discovered debt.
Phone bill $2,000 plus dollars!
What the fuck!
And guess who opened up the phone bill.
Lesson #1: If you have the same name as your father you might want to use your middle name on your bill instead of your first.
Fortunately no one dared to call the phone line to see what type phone sex I was having. But it was one of my more embarrassing summers I can recall. Mom, Dad and my sister didn't let me live that one down for quite some time.
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