Today I thought we should have a little sexual history lesson, going all the way back to Anton Dickson’s first “proper” gay sexual encounter…
I found myself in Paris, France at the tender age of 17 with my then-girlfriend of a few months (we were very innocent and had only really been kissing etc, being politely Swedish and restrained). We were both dancers—she was very flexible and so was I, and I had often fantasised of what we could get up to if and when we actually got to it, so to speak… hehe
Anyhow, we were taking summer ballet classes in Les Marais (famous for its gay bars and clubs, which I had no knowledge of at the time, of course), studying hard at Centre de Danse du Marais, an old and rundown studio surrounding an awesome old French courtyard. The whole atmosphere was truly magic, with a little cafe in the courtyard and everyone speaking sexy French everywhere.
The sun was shining through the ballet studio windows and highlighted a very handsome, tall Cuban who was an incredible dancer, so flexible yet so strong, with the biggest bulge in his jockstrap I had ever seen. Standing on the opposite side of the barre, I couldn’t help but look at him as often as I could, in a penche forward, bending backwards, flicking my head towards him in the small pirouttes, etc.
He obviously noticed this and smiled coyly towards me, knowing something I didn’t know. I was very innocent in those days: I didn’t think of him in a sexual way at all, just thought he was incredible as a dancer and person, just truly fascinating.
The lesson ended and my girlfriend, who’d just made friends with some Parisian girls, came up to me saying she was going into town to go shopping for some new ballet shoes. She knew how much I hated shopping and said I didn’t have to go, as the girls were taking her. I said, “Fine, perfect, see you back at the hotel later”, my mind still with the handsome Cuban dancer, who was just gathering his stuff and leaving the studio.
As soon as my girlfriend was out of the studio, I followed the male dancer into the dressing room, where he started undressing. There were other dancers there, too, but I didn’t notice any of them. I went into the shower to see if I could see a bit of his obviously massive cock. He must have felt my stare, as he slowly turned around, face first, hips last, revealing a humongous cock totally out of proportion with his lean, slim, well-trained physique and 8-pack. “Wow”, I said (I couldn’t help it). He laughed at me, soaped it up and turned away from me.
When I was getting dressed and packing up my bag, he came over to me. “Wanna come over to my place and watch a ballet video?” I said sure (I was so naive that I actually thought we were only going to watch a DVD… little did I know). “What do you have, anything with Baryshnikov? He’s my favourite”. He laughed at me. “Yeah, I have some with him in it. I live close by, let’s go”. We left the studio; the sun was sparkling in his eyes, I remember.
Back in his flat he turned on the telly and put on a Baryshnikov video. I was hypnotised—his jumps, his pirouettes—such an amazing, strong male dancer. I didn’t even notice the Cuban boy sitting down next to me, and all of the sudden he pushed me down on the bed and was on top of me. I was so shocked and surprised I didn’t know what to say. “What are you…” He shushed me and lowered his lips to mine. His big lower lip was salty, and felt amazing/ He kissed me so passionately I lost track of everything around me. I succumbed completely to his touch—he was all over me, we were naked as if by magic, and his hands and kisses were everywhere. I felt a pleasure I had never felt before. It was such an amazing moment, I will always treasure it.
And the climax was not a fucking (oh no, I was far too innocent back than for that, hehe). No, it was me on my knees in front of his fantastic, big man cock (I learnt that he was 21—a bit older than me and a lot more experienced, for sure… hehe) and him shooting a HUGE load all over my face and chest and in my mouth. I eagerly licked it up, as much as I could fit in my mouth, the sweat taste of the cum, and as soon as I tasted it I knew that this I wanted more of, as much as I could get in fact…
In other words, a true cum-whore was born. The rest is history, hehe.
When we were in his shower after washing each other off, he asked if I liked that. I was again lost for words of how to describe the strong emotional feeling I was having, and I told him he was my first. “What? You should have told me, I would have made it special”, he said. “Oh, it was special… trust me”, I said. He smiled, relieved.
We left the flat and went down to have some Nutella and banana crepes, my favourite when I’m in Paris from that moment on (still are; they always remind me of that sweat first load in my innocent mouth… hehe).
The reason I wanted to tell you this little story is that, funnily enough, a couple of months ago I got a message from one of the chat lines: “Hi there sexy, I don’t know if you remember me, but I was your first….!”
Wow, total flashback.
On another note, Spring is in the air today. London was so warm and uncharacteristically sunny, I loved it—all the hotties were out en masse in their t-shirts on my lunchbreak, showing off as they should, hehe, and here I’m sitting relaxing and eating a pork belly and apple sauce sandwich. Love it, hehe.
Here are some pics of me in my new and awesome TIM vest. (Mitch told me that americans call them tank tops) Hope you like it, hehe!
Stay connect with Anton Dickson