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Big is Better
|My first experience - my first contact with another male - hardly could be even called sex. It was more what you'd define as just experimental 'touchy-feely' games. But regardless, to me it was still a benchmark event in my life, both powerful and sensual - and honestly scary, too. Scary in the way that the experience also gave me a very brief peek - a hint - at my deeper sexual psyche and those particular desires that were still buried and repressed inside of me. So my '1st time' had elements that both thrilled and terrified; a very first small step along my journey of sexual self-discovery.
It happened with guy named Gabe, who I'd met in my freshman year in high school. Gabe's gym class and mine were scheduled during the same period, so we were always using the locker room at the same time. We'd exchange a few polite 'hellos' occasionally. We also knew each other's names, but nothing more conversational than that had ever occurred between us. He was a very large, strapping guy - not Amish-born either - just so much bigger and taller than I was - definitely 'all man', and also a man like I knew I could never be either. Gabe was confident and outgoing - and tall! That also seemed to apply to just about every other guy too but myself. I was one pretty shy kid. I assumed he was well-experienced with sex; Gabe being both older as well as an outlander. In addition to his being a big senior, Gabe was a big athlete, too; a varsity linebacker on the high school football team. I was always especially eyeballing those really 'big bruisers', attracted to them like a moth to a flame. Gabe was also one of those guys I noticed that never seemed to miss any opportunity to check me out either. Every time our paths happened to cross in the locker room, his eyes would track downwards to my crotch, however briefly. He took more than just 'a peek' whenever the opportunity presented itself too. Such attention also unfortunately was a constant reminder to me that I needed to take great lengths to minimize my public exposure.
'First contact' occurred during that spring semester of my freshman year. By this time I was already into my 3rd jock while the other guys were still wearing their originals. The truth was that the elastic seemed to give out completely in mine after only a few months of regular gym classes. So some boys were tough on shoes or pants, while I seemed to just destroy jockstraps. Also thanks to being around all of the outlanders, I was gaining a new vocabulary - a very sexual vocabulary. I had brand new words to describe sexual 'things' and 'situations' now.
It was very late in the afternoon, well after school was out. I was doing make-up sessions for several PE classes that I'd missed. I happened into the locker room just as Gabe was returning from the showers. I didn't know it, but Gabe had just finished one of his regular heavy workouts in the weight room. (I still had no concept about lifting weights or what a weight room even was, let alone there was even one in our school as yet.)
Gabe was very big into 'the weights' I'd eventually discover. He turned his head as he walked by me and said, "Hi," very friendly-like. There was something though about the way that our eyes locked and held the contact. Really it was probably only an extra second or two, but still... That lingering gaze shot though me like a bolt of lightening. It was something very real- very powerful- and completely compelling. (I didn't understand it at the time of course, but my GAY-DAR had just been switched on for the very 1st time.)
My vocal chords strangely failed me as this almost electric feeling raced through my whole body. I just could not get myself to return his verbal greeting, though I wanted to. All I managed was an awkward wave of my hand in acknowledgement, but my eyes continued to track him like a laser-guided missile as he walked crossed the room. It seemed as though he was almost moving in slow motion. My skin felt very warm and my heartbeat quickened. I could not for the life-of-me take my eyes off him. He looked really S-O-L-I-D.. and more powerful than I remembered. The veins in his arms were very prominent. I traced with my eyes the visible outlines and utterly masculine shapes of his very - yes, they really were - very big muscles.
"He has very BIG muscles," was the silent chant that repeated in my mind as I just stared at him. I snapped out of my trace when I became suddenly aware that I was developing a visible and uncontrollable boner. That freaked me out totally. Having absolutely no way at all to hide it from Gabe, I immediately spun around on my heels and just about ran back out the door. I spent untold minutes subsequently running laps widely around the gymnasium to thoroughly extinguish all traces of my 'undesired' sexual fires.
Eventually I walked back into the locker room. It was completely empty and unusually quiet, with none of the usual noise and commotion typical during the normal school hours. Well, wouldn't you know it - guess who just happened to have taken the locker right beside mine very own? Yep, there was Gabe - and he was just finishing getting dressed now. He had on a pullover tucked into his jeans- this in contrast to the all-occasion Amish "uniform" that every Amish male wore that was hanging in my own locker, which was a white starched shirt, black pants and suspenders. He was sitting on the bench and lacing up his boots. I didn't say a word - more accurately, I actually could not have spoken a single word. I just opened my locker and, looking straight ahead, quickly popped off my sneakers, peeled off my shirt and dropped my gym shorts. Fully aware that I was now left wearing only my jockstrap and socks, I automatically positioned myself as close as I possibly could to the opening in my locker. (Truthfully, I'd have stood inside of my locker to get dressed if I could have gotten away with it, but I'd worked out this defense of using the locker door as a protective visual shield against roving eyes.)
As I rummaged around inside my locker, I became aware that Gabe wasn't leaving. In fact as far as I could tell, he was just sitting there because there were no noises. I moved my head backwards slightly and verified that he was still sitting there out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't exactly sure but I thought he might even have had his head turned towards me. It took a few more seconds and several more covert glances for me to establish that he appeared to be staring right at - well you can guess where. But oddly unlike any previous times, I didn't seem to mind this particular guy's inspecting me. I was closer to him physically now than I'd probably ever been before - almost close enough to feel his radiant body heat, or so I imagined anyway. I remembered how he had just looked so very - BIG- to me, as I'd walked up to my locker. I remembered how his back appeared to be just so amazingly broad and very thick too, when he'd been tying his shoes. I remembered how he more than filled out that large pullover he was wearing. Gabe was exactly the type of guy that made my blood start pumping uncontrollably. He was big AND strong - and that sexually excited me, which also scared the hell out of me.
I snapped out of my thoughts when he suddenly spoke to me.
"Hey Peter - what 'cha hiding there?"
I just froze solid right on the spot, completely paralyzed. His voice sounded unexpectedly deep, intensely masculine and invitingly, too There was an unusual tension throughout my body. My head felt a little light. While only a few seconds of silence had actually passed, it seemed like a full minute or more to me.
Somehow I managed to find my voice but only after awkwardly clearing my throat a few times. Talking directly into my locker, I answered rather mechanically, " I'm ...errrr... I'm not hiding anything...."
"Yep, I think you are." he quickly replied in a quite friendly-sounding challenge of sorts. The way he said those words didn't seem confrontational. It had a between-the-lines unspoken message that also seemed to be saying, "Hey, I'm a friend / just don't bullshit me."
He was sitting close enough to me that I could tell from the movement of his head that his gaze had probably returned again to my crotch.
"Let me tell you something, Peter. Your basket is nothing to be ashamed of... nothing at all..."
Basket? Well, I knew what that was probably referring to, unfortunately. OK- so I did know that I was built 'kind of big' down there, but after that very first day in the locker room, I'd also spent these many long months now literally hiding myself and being as 'small' and unobtrusively 'normal' as I could be. I just wanted everyone to forget that fact about me actually. I doubt seriously that I'd had even since looked at another guy's crotch again myself since that fateful first day in the locker room. Truthfully, it wasn't a guy's crotch that pushed my 'on' switch anyway. It was their bodies - the way the 'total package' looked to me - and always it seemed that bigger was just better. So I'd kept my eyes to home for months. And throughout that time, I'd also slowly been minimizing, at least to myself, the 'size thing'. Perhaps it was a very necessary self-deception, but in my own mind I'd gradually 'shrunk' the perception of myself down a bit, something akin to, "I'm big, but not really THAT big...." But Gabe's comment suddenly brought this whole issue up right in my face, and I was faced with the question again, "Am I really THAT big?" I had the urge to look at Gabe's crotch just to get an instant reality-check and comparison again, but then I remembered he had his pants on already.
Evidently not getting the response from me that he'd hoped for, Gabe took another tactic.
"My friend says that you must stuff something in there. I mean- maybe it's just because you're kind'a short and all that you want others to think that at least you're really hung - to sort'a compensate. Hey, I can understand that. I won't tell no one. Honest, I won't."
'Hung?' Another new word, but I seemed again to get the reference clearly enough. It was about my size- the size of my equipment.
Then I saw his hand appear out of the corner of my eye and grab the door on my locker. This big, thickly-veined large hand. It was a grizzly's paw. Just immense. Gabe must had very easily been able to completely surround a football with that thing. No wonder he was already on the State all-star's draft pick list. Once he got a football in that grip, no one was ever going to be able to dislodge it. It was a hand that said to me, "I'm connected to a REAL strong dude," and this hand was now pulling the concealing door of my locker wide open. I watched as my privacy shield slowly disappeared until my unobstructed profile was fully in his view. Meanwhile, I was also turning red and getting genuinely angry thinking about his friend's very false rumor.
Rather impulsively, and also demanding in no uncertain terms his immediate attention, I blurted out, "See? See me? S-E-E?" Then I childishly - stupidly - and very awkwardly jumped up and down in place, absolutely intent upon squelching this rumor by just proving to Gabe that it was really 'all me'. It was easy enough to tell that I wasn't lying. My whole jock sagged and recoiled from the sheer weight inside it. It's noticeable motion said very effectively, "These are the REAL McCoy's!" But no sooner had I finished my angry demonstration than my old familiar feelings of embarrassment and self-loathing overwhelmed me.
This was unfortunately just more reinforced when Gabe gulped with sincere astonishment, "Now that's a real tool chest...."
In exasperation, I blurted out, "I hate it - hate it ALL! It's all... well... just too much! I only wanted to be taller but look what I got instead. THIS! I'm never going to be a big guy."
And Gabe continued studying the situation, and VERY intensely too. More seconds passed in complete silence. Then I just heard one more word, spoken almost breathlessly....
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