My First Gay Kiss

 
He wasn't my first boy-boy kiss. He was my first gay kiss. I was researching a project on LGBTQ discrimination for a sociology class and ended up at the queer center at the University of Minnesota. He was the receptionist or something like that.

We sat on the couch in the lobby surrounded by windows passionately making out. In retrospect, our degree of making out on that couch was tacky. At the time, it was hot. We were both exhibitionists.
We exchanged numbers, and eventually I went over to his house to continue our passion. I mistook passion for love.

He opened the door and led me upstairs. We immediately picked up where we left off. Suddenly, he was on top of me, condom over his prick, my pants around my ankles, ass in the air.

"No. No! NO!" I screamed.

He didn't listen. My ass burned. It was my first time.

I wish I turned and slapped him.

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