My First Gay Party!

After my post two weeks ago I thought we all deserved some fun, maybe kicking a few tires ….. in other words, SAMMY! A party in someone’s pants, as in A BIG BLOW OUT!! So I asked the little wench to write something raunchy, and did she ever deliver. 😮 😈 :bravo: Don’t ever say I’m not kind and generous. :wave:

Wave.

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Ah where to begin…such an adventure we had…but perhaps it is best to start with what happened right after Wave invited me to post this little story.

This is an excerpt from the phone conversation that took place immediately after Wave asked me to write something “amusing”. Of course, I called my “Bestie” right away! I had news to share! Rick was beside himself with joy over hearing from me again!

Me: Rick? Rick? I know you’re there, I can hear you breathing!

Rick: No one of that name lives at this residence.

Me: Yeah, yeah, suck it up you big fruitcake, I got something to ask you.

Rick: Oh god what manner of hell am I going to have to endure now?

Me: Wave asked me to write—AGAIN!! (I giggled with glee!) Can you believe it?

As I spoke, a warm feeling ran through me—this was my best friend—my best GAY friend! How lucky was I that he was always there for me—always ready with advice and endless patience for whatever little problem I had and, of course, ready to rejoice in the happy moments—such as this.

Rick: Are you finished cackling like a hyena? Well, speak up! Listen, you have exactly 60 seconds to tell me why I should care and then I am hanging up. (I heard him utter a muffled aside to his Significant Other.) Dammit, Freddie I thought I told you to get our phone number changed the last time she called.

Me: (sensing that my bestie was impatient to share my joy, I replied) Just wanted to make sure it was ok to write about THE party—and THE tent camper incident.
I whispered this last statement conspiratorially into the phone.

Rick: (Groaning with enthusiasm) Dear god—again? Again with how you stood guard outside your sainted Father’s camper while I supposedly had wild sex with…Ajax?

Ajax is, of course, an alias to protect the innocent and slightly debauched young man my bestie seduced in a night of unbridled passion.

Rick: And if you think I am going to let you tell unsuspecting strangers about that delusional “night of unbridled passion” as you love to call it, you have got another thing coming Missy! My god! The things I have to put up with! (Another slightly less muffled aside) Freddie? Get me the phone company’s emergency hotline number. I am disconnecting this line tonight!

I listened for a few more minutes as Rick went on and on about how he loved me and treasured these phone calls we shared before thanking him profusely and hanging up. His last words were still ringing in my ears…

Rick: And NO, you may not share that stupid story and, so help me, if you do I am going to…

Ah…such a shame I had to hang up…but I had a story to write and with my bestie’s ringing endorsement in my ears I set out to write:

images3My First Gay Party or How I Hooked Up My Bestie and Then Stood Guard at the Door!

We were all of 19. Young, untouched, (well, some of us anyway) and horny as…never mind. My best friend Rick had come out to his folks a short time before and then gone off to college to sow some of his, ahem, wild oats. I, much to his joy, kept in constant contact but made sure to always discuss more cerebral topics such as:

Me: So, did you get any last night with what’s his name and when in the hell are you going to send pictures? You know, its rough being one of only five straight people in the Theatre Department—god, you should see what I have to deal with. If I had a dime…

Rick: You are such a skank and no, I am not sending pictures and his name is “Ajax” (see above disclaimer on protecting the innocent) and I thought we were discussing Hamlet and his obvious mother fixation?

When we came home for spring break, we were desperately in need of some B & F (Boone’s Farm wine and Fornication). My Father had left me alone in the house as he believed I was, in his words, a “good” girl and “responsible”. Oh my father…so deluded….

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Before Dad left, he opened up his prized, brand new tent camper in the back yard, fully extended and ready to rock and roll. Why, you ask? Oh people—you have obviously never been in a camper. According to my sainted father one always “airs out” the camper prior to its first use of the season. All I knew was that it was private, had a double bed and a door that locked, in other words, fornication central!!

The “gay” party began just like all others. People lined up on either side of the room, stealthily scoping out the “potential” hook ups for the evening. I had invited quite the mix of people, mostly college friends, and yes, sigh, mostly gay. What? Did you somehow miss that I was a theatre major?? Please!

Rick, of course only had eyes for “Ajax”  images2and I, emboldened by Boone’s Farm apple wine, was in full on, “let’s get this private party started” mode. I cornered Rick and went in guns a-blazing!

Me: So, when do you want to slip him the salami? Just say the word—I have the key to the camper right here, big boy!

(I may have patted that area between my breasts where it is highly possible I had tucked away the key to said trailer and was no doubt now regretting such an action as I was sweating like an Eskimo in a sauna!)

Rick: (hissing slightly) Will you keep it down! And please stop referring to my manhood as salami. And for god’s sake, stop standing so close. Geez, you are sweating like a pig in heat!

(I liked my Eskimo analogy better—just sayin.)

Me: (slightly whiny and definitely inebriated) C’mon!! God knows I’m not going to “get any” at this party! Which means helping you is about as close I’m going to get to S E X tonight!

Rick: (moaning and turning slightly green) Oh please God, take me now. How did we ever become friends? You have got to be the most obnoxious…

Rick stopped mid-sentence for crossing the room at that moment in all his perpetually tanned, heavily muscled and blinding dimpled smile was the Adonis of “Blabbety Blab” High School.

“Ajax”.

A hush fell over the room…

No, really! A hush actually did fall over the room and several people began ducking down behind furniture and started crawling toward the back door because at that very moment a cop car was driving by the house like a shark chumming deep waters for its next meal.

I grabbed Rick and Ajax, kicked a few people out of the way and barreled through the backdoor. As we spilled out into the yard, the clouds seemed to part and the moon shone down and I could swear I heard a faint echo of heavenly choirs singing as the chrome finish and heavy-duty canvas of my father’s prized possession shimmered there in the moonlight.

I heard both boys gasp…and reaching down into my ample bosom, I retrieved the Holy GrailThe KEY! Another gasp was heard amidst the slapping of feet as they pulled me willy-nilly toward the camper.

I stopped, then, intent on putting into words how I felt about this magical moment. With a beaming smile I drew in a big breath and…

Rick slapped the key out of my hand, Ajax caught it and before you could say “rabbits in heat” the door to the camper was slammed shut in my face and the ricochet of a lock sliding into place rendered the stillness of the night air.

GAME ON!

Now, of course, dear reader, it never crossed my mind to stand there, ear pressed tight against the tin door, holding my breath until my eyes were bulging and I was about to pass out, in order to hear any, ahem, telltale sounds of glorious gay sex.  images4

Please…what do you think I am? Nobody’s fool, that’s for sure!

I ran like a bat out of hell into the kitchen to get a glass to press against the side of the camper, of course. And let me tell you, all that crap they told us as kids about being able to hear everything  through a damn glass was—A PACK OF LIES!

So, yes…I may have begged for the boys to open the air vent just a bit and yes, Rick may have told me to stick it where the sun does not shine and to leave them the H…E… double hockey sticks alone but I remained…at my post…vigilant.

Until my father came home…early…and saw the Boone’s Farm wine on ice in the kitchen sink… images2 copyand the other 22 party goers in various states of inebriation strewn about the living room…and then looked out the back door and saw that damn moonlight shining down on his now curiously rocking new tent camper…

But that is a story for another time…

Author

A mature woman, gracefully growing older, who lives with 12 cats and talks to imaginary people–had ya going there for a minute didn’t I? I am an avid lover of all things m/m who delights in occasionally teasing Wave!

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