He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 61 - Everything I Wanted

- Clay -

Before last night, I never understood my friends' obsession with getting laid. When I had sex the first time, I left feeling deeply underwhelmed. I assumed my dissatisfaction was because I barely knew the girl. We met on vacation when I was fifteen. Her family was staying in the hotel suite next door. She was a year older than me. We kept bumping into each other in the hotel lobby, at breakfast, at the pool. I suspected she liked me because she was always watching me, smiling if she caught my eye. Alone in the elevator one day, she made her interest very clear when she kissed me (without consent). I kissed her back because it felt weird to be so unyielding. I suspected my friends would be delighted to be in this situation. So, I pretended. Doing what they would do. Then she grabbed my crotch, before breaking away to stare right into my eyes. All my friends were losing their virginity around that time, so I thought if the girl was up for it, I would try. I invited her back to my room, knowing Rachel had gone out shopping with Mom, and Dad was off doing whatever Dad did on vacations. Shuffleboard maybe? Sex was not the magical experience movies made it out to be. It was awkward and stressful and I barely finished. She seemed bored by the end. We didn't talk again afterwards.

I somehow managed to go almost two years without doing it again. Without even the desire to try. The two girls I dated during that time were both very into the idea of waiting. One of them—Ashley—was for religious, not-before-marriage reasons. She took me to a church picnic for our second date. We only dated for like a month because I found out she was an obsessive psycho with jealousy issues. The other girl—Dinah—just wasn't ready. We dated for over a year. Honestly, if Dinah hadn't moved to Ohio in January, I probably would've kept dating her until she got sick of me. I adored her. She was very sweet, and we liked a lot of the same older music.

Then came Summer. She had always been such a cool girl. Always sort of in my orbit. We weren't friends, but we hung out around the same places, at the same parties. We'd occasionally end up spending time together, pre-gaming before a party or some sporting event. We cracked jokes all the time, and she loved that I loved dancing. I never really wanted to date her. I just wanted to be her friend.

Then my friends started hounding me about being single for four months and I felt pressured into asking her out. Brandon said she was perfect for me. We started dating at the end of May. About a month in, a game of Never Have I Ever, which I didn't even want to play, revealed that I'd had sex before. A few days later, she suggested our first time. Letting me know she'd done it with her previous boyfriend, so it wasn't a big deal. Instead of being honest, telling her I didn't want to, I said, "Okay." I genuinely cared for her, so I hoped it would be better. While it was less disastrous than my previous attempt, I still didn't think it was anything remarkable. I wasn't sure if it was good for Summer, but she kept initiating it, so I complied.

But none of that compared to being with Emmett. That was on a whole other level from before. Every kiss, every touch, brought pleasure before we even got to the actual sex part. The whole time, I hoped Emmett didn't know how nervous I was. More so than my first time with whatever her name was—I thought it started with a B.

Even though it was painful at times—and I was still a bit sore—it felt incredibly special. It was how I imagined my first time would be. I loved Emmett. And I knew Emmett loved me. This was just another way to show that love.

I smiled, thinking back on it on my drive to Brandon's house. I parked in front of the massive brick house that always made me massively uncomfortable. Brandon's parents and all three of his brothers were staunchly conservative. Even before I knew I was gay, I knew I had much more liberal ideologies than the Pendletons cared for. Once, during a discussion about allowing teachers to lead a prayer before class, I was asked my opinion. I stupidly told them my actual thoughts, opposing the idea. Stating that not every student in our school was Christian. I said, "By your standard, we'd have to lead a prayer for every major religion, which would be time-consuming." They looked horrified, like I'd just stood up and plopped my dick on the dinner table. Brandon clamped a hand over his mouth, hardly able to contain his amusement.