My First Time with a Man Began with a Coffee

After months of chatting, late-night messages, and sentences we never quite finished, Damián agreed to meet me at a café in Clock Square. It was an autumn afternoon and the sun fell slantwise through the trees, stretching the shadows over the cobblestones. It was still a little warm, that mild breeze that comes before the first cold nights.

We sat at a sidewalk table and, to anyone passing by, we were just two friends sharing a coffee. None of the hundreds of pedestrians could have imagined what that first meeting was really about. And honestly, I doubt any of them would have cared.

We were two men ready to cross a line. Each of us carried his own shyness on his shoulders, his thousand questions, but also something latent inside: the desire to know what it felt like, that attraction toward the other that pushed us, without remedy, toward a reality we had only ever brushed with words until then.

—I thought you weren’t going to come —he said, stirring his sugar needlessly.

—I thought the same about you —I answered.

We both laughed at the same time, and that nervous laughter broke the ice a little. No one sitting in that square would have bet that what was going to happen between Damián and me was possible. Neither of us had ever had an experience with another man. But he wanted it as much as I wanted to share it.

We talked about anything—work, traffic, the weather—while underneath the conversation another current ran, one that made us hold each other’s gaze a second too long. Every time his fingers brushed the cup, I looked at his hands. Every time I ran my tongue over my lips, he looked down.

If I don’t get up the nerve now, I never will.

—Shall we go? —I asked, and there was no need to say where.

He nodded. We quickly finished the second coffee, left the bills on the table without waiting for change, and walked in silence the few blocks that separated us from the apartment. I had rented it for a single night, an impersonal studio in an ordinary building, with furniture that belonged to no one.

We had both told the same lie to our wives: a business trip, meetings that didn’t exist, a city we weren’t going to. We walked carrying that guilt and, at the same time, an excitement that tightened my chest and dried my mouth.

***

When we went in, I locked the door. The click of the bolt sounded louder than it should have. We stood there in the middle of the room, looking at each other, and the question floated between us without either of us saying it out loud. And now what?

Who would take the first step? Would we hug? Would we kiss? The questions mixed with the hunger. There was a different glint in his eyes, and in his broken breathing the same nervousness I felt before the unknown.

Discovering that a man attracts you isn’t something that happens every day to someone who always thought he was completely straight and suddenly finds himself thinking of himself as bisexual. One wanting to possess the other, the other wanting to be possessed. And both paralyzed by the fear of ruining the moment.

I decided to cut through that doubt in the only way I could think of. I stepped closer, held the back of his neck with one hand, and kissed him. It was clumsy at first, teeth bumping, noses not knowing which way to go. But then he softened, opened his mouth, and the kiss turned slow and deep. I felt his two-day stubble against my chin and that, far from bothering me, set me on fire.

—I’ve been imagining this for months —he murmured against my lips.

—Me too. You have no idea.

I unbuckled my belt without taking my eyes off him. I wanted him to see it for real, not in the photos we’d sent each other, but right there, in front of him. I took his hand and guided him.

—Come here, Damián. Touch it. It’s yours if you want it.

He knelt slowly, as if afraid of breaking something. He rested his lips on it lightly, first a shy kiss, then his tongue. He held it by the base with a hand that trembled a little and explored it with a curiosity that undid me.

That first touch of his mouth was enough for all shame to evaporate completely. He opened his lips wider and took me in fully, softly, without hurry, and I let out a long sigh at the wet heat of his tongue.

—Like that, Damián —I said, stroking his hair.

He looked up at me without taking me out of his mouth. His eyes were shining, and there was something like a smile in them, a happiness I hadn’t known I was looking for. He sucked me like no one had ever sucked me before, not for technique, but for the hunger he put into it, for the surrender.

That turned me on in a way I hadn’t expected. I lifted him from the floor by his arms and kissed him again, this time with a different urgency, biting his lip, pushing him backward.

***

We undressed in awkward stumbles, laughing when one of us got caught on a shirt or the other couldn’t manage a button. We discovered every inch of each other’s skin with our hands and mouths. I kissed his neck, his chest, the line of hair that ran down his abdomen. He traced my back, my arms, digging his fingers in when something pleased him.

I pushed him gently onto the bed and went down. Now I was the one taking him in my mouth, giving back what he had done to me, listening to his breathing get faster and faster. Then we settled on our sides, tangled together, giving each other pleasure at the same time, each of us surrendered to the other’s cock as if we’d been doing it for years.

—I can’t believe this is happening —he said at some point, his voice breaking.

—Neither can I. And I don’t want it to stop.

When I felt he was close, I asked him to get on all fours. He obeyed without hesitation, pressing his face into the pillow and arching his back. I spread his ass cheeks with my hands and kissed his hole with an avidity that surprised even me, sliding my tongue in, feeling him shudder.

—More —he sighed—. Please, don’t stop.

I rummaged in the bag until I found the lube I’d bought that very morning, still with the nervousness of the supermarket checkout in my body. I smeared my fingers with it and smeared him too, and I began to enter very slowly, just one finger at first.

—Slowly —he asked—. Slowly, that’s good.

His body opened little by little. When I managed to get in the second finger, I felt him tense and then ease, getting used to it, finding the rhythm himself.

—It hurts a little —he said—. But I like it. Keep going.

Damián moaned softly into the pillow while inside he discovered a new sensation, something he didn’t know how to name. I tried a third finger, and then he turned his head to look at me.

—Enough playing —he told me, almost as an order—. I want you. Now.

I put on more lube, rested the tip against his entrance, and started to push. It wasn’t easy, for him or for me. His body wasn’t quite ready yet, and for a moment I thought we weren’t going to be able to do it. But I pushed patiently, paying attention to every sound he made, and the head finally slid in.

We both held our breath at the same time, that strange mix of pain and pleasure unlike anything else.

—At last —he said, in a thread of a voice—. At last we’re doing it.

—Yes —I answered, still not moving—. I’ve waited so long for this.

I gave him time. I stayed still, leaning over his back, kissing his shoulders, until I felt his body accept me. Only then did I start to move, slowly, a short rocking motion that I lengthened as he asked me to.

—Don’t stop —he murmured—. Like that, just like that.

Damián brought his own hand forward to stroke himself, but I moved his fingers away.

—Let me do it —I told him.

While I was penetrating him in that back-and-forth that grew firmer and firmer, I wrapped my palm, still slippery with lube, around his cock and started stroking him in the same rhythm as my thrusts. He buried his face in the pillow and let out a long groan.

—It feels like you’re splitting me in two —he said between gasps—. Don’t stop. Keep going, come on.

The whole apartment seemed reduced to that single movement, to the sound of our breathing, to the heat of the two bodies pressed together. I felt like I wasn’t going to last much longer.

—I’m coming —he warned, gripping the sheets.

—Wait for me. We’ll do it together.

With a couple more thrusts I felt my own body about to burst, and at the same time I felt him pulse inside my hand.

—I can’t hold it anymore —he moaned.

Then I felt his warm semen run between my fingers, and that was the trigger. I drove in all the way and let myself go inside him, with a shiver that ran from the nape of my neck to my knees.

—So good —he said, and let himself fall face down onto the bed, with me still inside him.

***

We stayed like that for a while, still, not wanting to separate. When I finally pulled out, I lay down beside him. We were sweaty, shaken, our breathing still not quite in sync. We looked into each other’s eyes and, without really knowing why, we both laughed, nervous and happy at the same time.

—That’s it —I said—. We did it.

—Yes —he answered, and reached for my hand—. And it made me happy.

I kissed him again on the lips, without the urgency of before, now with a new calm. Naked as we were, stained and tired, we held each other in that borrowed bed in an apartment that belonged to no one.

Outside, it was already night. Tomorrow each of us would go back home, to our lie, to our usual life. But before falling asleep, we both promised the same thing in a low voice: that this wouldn’t be the last time.