First time amateur gay
14."I went on a trip to a tropical country. I found a tiny, secluded, resort-type place with a exclude while exploring the area. I spent the entire daytime there while the male, early 20s bartender served me. He had a blinding smile. At one point, he told me that no one else was around and that I could swim in the pool, naked, if I wanted. I said 'screw it' and did. He kept serving me drinks and talking, and I later said I was gonna get out and go interpret by the beach. He told me since no one else was there he was gonna close the area for an hour and that I didn't have to put my clothes back on. He walked me over to the hammock and kept complimenting my body. I was into it, so I didn't stop him. He sort of felt me up as I got into the hammock (I let him), and he eventually made his way down on me..."
"This was my first (and only) time a guy had gone down on me. He got naked and offered to go further. I told him I could try but only with protection. He came help with condoms, and I tried but couldn't stay up. He asked if he could strive, and at this point I just felt I was all in anyway, so I was down.
It was an interesting experience. I was taller and physically bigger and had never been
Tips for cis men who want to try sex with other cis men – in a safe and respectful way
To begin, I’d prefer to clarify that this article is not necessarily about questioning your sexuality. Everyone should be able to search their curiosities in a pleasurable and positive way, and it’s important to understand that you can try fresh things without subscribing to any fixed labels. These tips are for cis men who desire to try sex with other cis men, in a safe and respectful manner.
Note: ‘cisgender men’ or ‘cis men’ refers to men who were assigned male at birth, based on having a penis and other biological characteristics, and identify as men too.Cis is the opposite of trans. We debate trans men morehere, andhere’s some sustain and advice about navigating sex and relationshipsfor trans men and trans masculine people.
1. Be decent from the get-go that you’re curious
Whether you want to hook up with someone you’re already acquainted with (usually a gym bro, according to most porn), or you’ve been involved in a charged emoji swap on Grindr, honesty is fundamental from the beginning. Many queer people are empathetic
Dad died when I was six. The rabbi who lived in the apartment below took over for him. I’m sure he wanted to do Mom. They packed us off to an evil Hasidic summer camp where everyone made fun of us because we didn’t know their crazy prayers. My brother was four. We would secretly encounter in the woods, hug each other and cry. We couldn’t understand why our father died and our mother sent us to this terrible place. I learned to hate all religion and still do.
Mom was a dark-haired, curvaceous looker, juicy, and in her prime. She liked sex but decided that all men had to pay for it. The butcher brought steaks; the florist, flowers; the bagel man left fresh hot steaming bagels by our door every morning for months. Leon, the ice cream man left ice cream. My younger brother and I were quickly dispatched to obtain the stuff into the property, so they couldn’t see Mom. And not to forget Abe, the jeweler, who brought, well, jewels. They all tried to obtain inside. Some did. When Mom met the man who brought it all, she married him.
We lived in Borough Park, in Brooklyn. Until I ran away, I thought everyone in the world was either Jewish or Italian. I was intimidated by all the dark, Brooklyn-rough I
I sat in my chair, looking through the window across the wide plain to the towers of Lüneburg. Everyone was silent. The therapist turned to the older woman. “What do you see?”—“The Elbe River.” Then she began to tell: Her father, whom she had never met, had died in Russian captivity when she was a child. The loss had defined her life. She blamed herself for not having been with him in Siberia. All her life she had done nothing but help others, save others, protect others. None of them were her father, but each one had the secret task of replacing him. She couldn’t do it anymore. She cried. The therapist asked her to choose several participants from the collective to represent figures from her family story. I was asked to remain for her father.
I was forty-seven years old, recently returned from my first visit with my have father. I was agitated and euphoric. I couldn’t go back to my old life, and I didn’t have a fresh one yet. I must have been unbearable in those weeks of my new half-birth. Everything would change, an intuition told me. I would drop in love with a woman, start a family, and become a victorious writer or local politician. I would pull myself out of the swamp of my erotic