Troy's Experiences : My First App Experience (Part 2) (Patreon)

All characters are 18+ Everything that happens is safe, sane, and consensual.

My First Hookup Experience (A Nightmare I’ll Never Forget) - Pt 2

So, picking up where I left off.

I’d just walked into Adrian’s flat, and it hit me immediately how alive the place was. It wasn’t quiet, it wasn’t empty. It was exactly the opposite. His roommates were very much around, each of them doing their own thing. A shirtless guy strolled past the hallway, gave me the briefest nod like I was just another one of Adrian’s random visitors, and then disappeared into a room without saying a word. Another guy was yelling at the TV, controller in hand, while the sound of Mario Kart blasted from the console. There were footsteps in the kitchen, laughter echoing down the corridor.

This wasn’t what I expected. It felt like I had stumbled into some chaotic frat house environment, except… I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Trying to ground myself, I asked Adrian if I could have some water. I think it was half an excuse to get out of the awkward silence between us. He nodded toward a door. “Yeah, just grab a cup from the dispenser in the next room.”

So I walked in. And of course, it wasn’t just an empty space. There was another guy in there. Shirtless, sprawled across the bed, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t even look up when I walked in. I felt like an intruder in someone else’s house, like I didn’t belong, but I forced myself to walk to the dispenser, fill up a flimsy plastic cup, and drink. The water tasted metallic. I swallowed quickly, put the cup down, and walked back out, trying to act like this was all normal.

Eventually, Adrian led me to his room. He shut the door behind us, and I remember feeling this rush of claustrophobia. I wasn’t being forced. I could’ve left. But I didn’t. That’s something I need to stress: I was there consensually. Looking back, I don’t know why I stayed. Maybe it was the need to prove something to myself. Maybe I didn’t want to seem like someone who was chickening out after “making the effort.” Maybe I just didn’t know better.

The room itself didn’t help. He didn’t even have a bed. Just a single mattress tossed on the floor, a pile of laundry shoved into a corner, a desk stacked with papers, and a chair with clothes draped over it. It screamed “college boy living,” messy and temporary. There was nothing romantic about it.

Still, I sat down on the edge of the mattress. I don’t know why. Maybe because he sat first, and it felt easier to follow than to stand awkwardly in the middle of his room.

He leaned in. “So… you wanna?”

I froze. My mind blanked. My heart raced. And what came out of my mouth was a hesitant, “Uhmm… okay.”

I leaned forward just enough, and we exchanged a quick peck. That was my first kiss with a man. And I hated it. Not because it was with a man, but because it didn’t feel right. I had imagined kissing to be this rush of fireworks, this rush of something electric, but in reality, it was awkward, dry, over before it even started. I pulled back immediately, not knowing what to do next.

Adrian didn’t waste time. “You wanna blow me?”

My chest tightened. This was it. The moment I had thought about for so long. And yet… I hesitated. But instead of saying no, I nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He stood, tugged his shorts down, and my heart sank further. His dick was nothing like I imagined. Small. Not even close to the fantasy I had built up in my head from porn. When he peeled his T-shirt off too, it hit me harder; this wasn’t the man from the photo. He was hairy, a little chubby, and to be clear, I don’t think that’s unattractive in itself. In fact, years later, I had one of my best hookups ever with a chubby guy, a story I even wrote about called Salsa and Tip. But this was different. This wasn’t honesty. This was cat-fishing. My attraction had been tricked, and now reality was sitting in front of me.

Still, I went through with it. I leaned down, wrapped my lips around his dick, and instantly regretted it. The taste was… off. Salty, weird, like sweat that had sat too long. He was leaking pre-cum, and the texture made me gag inside.

I tried. For maybe twenty seconds, I tried to convince myself this was normal, that this was what dick was supposed to taste like. I pushed myself to take more, but it didn’t work. So I switched to my hand instead, stroking him because at least that didn’t force me to deal with the taste.

The whole time, I kept repeating in my head: This is what it’s like. This is what it’s like. Maybe this is just how it always is. I was wrong, of course. Later, I’d learn that dick could taste amazing, that it could be addictive in its own right. But that first time? It was anything but.

Somewhere in the shuffle, he ended up pushing me back, his lips wrapping around my cock instead. I don’t know if it was nerves, the buildup of finally doing something sexual, or just the shock of feeling it, but I barely lasted. Within seconds, I came. Hard.

A spurt hit his tongue, and I remember watching in disbelief as he licked it, swallowed like it was nothing.

And then reality hit me like a brick wall. (or maybe post nut?)

I yanked my underwear back on immediately, my cum still sticky against my skin. I couldn’t even think straight. I just stood up abruptly and muttered, “I’m getting late.”

He didn’t protest. He pulled his shorts back on, opened the door, and walked me out like it was just another casual afternoon. The sounds of his roommates still filled the flat, and I kept my head down as I left.

Outside, I didn’t go straight back to my building. I walked in the opposite direction, pretending I lived further down the road, just so he wouldn’t know where I actually stayed. I waited until he disappeared back into his building before doubling back and rushing home.

The second I got inside, I sat on my bed, heart pounding, body sticky, mind reeling. I grabbed my phone, blocked his number, blocked him on Grindr, and then deleted the app entirely.

And then… I went into what I call gay isolation. For six months, I didn’t touch the app, didn’t even think about hookups. I buried that part of myself again because the experience had scared me so much.

Looking back now, I can see the red flags. I can see all the moments I could’ve walked away. But at the time, I didn’t know better. I didn’t have anyone to guide me, no friend to warn me, no older queer voice to tell me, “Hey, your first time doesn’t have to be this. You can wait until it feels right.”

So yeah. That was my first hookup experience. Weird. Awkward. Disappointing. And definitely a cat-fish story.

Not all firsts are great. Some of them are nightmares. But you know what? They make for stories worth telling.

And to be clear, not all my firsts were like this. My first actual fuck was a completely different experience... one I’ll save for another time. Let’s just say, that one was worth remembering.

But yeah. That’s the story of how my first hookup went.