Seth Conrad is not your typical high school librarian. By day, he’s quiet, introverted, and moderately popular with the students. However, to supplement his meager salary, he delves into a world of sexually ushering gay virgins into their own world of authenticity. While his services are memorable, they aren’t cheap. Each weekend experience starts at a steep price with no commitment afterwards.
Laced with spicy scenes and passionate lovemaking, travel with Seth as he experiences his own psychosexual liberation to realize he deserves the possibility of a happily ever after.
Trigger warning: mention of suicide.
So, you might be asking, “Seth what do you do? What makes you so special?”
To which, I would reply, “I’m the librarian at Sandview High School.”
I can see your head shaking back and forth while you’re saying, “No, Mr. Conrad. That wasn’t my question.”
“Oh, you want to know what my side gig is?”
“Yes, Seth ... what’s your side gig?” I can hear the voice inside your head asking.
To which I would have to reply, “I provide a once in a lifetime experience. The ultimate once in a lifetime experience. The experience, once performed, can never be undone and can, no matter what anybody tells you, be repeated or replicated. It’s not a job, or even a hobby for me like my colleagues’ other jobs, which can be frivolously disposed of and tossed aside like toilet paper. It’s a profound responsibility to take another man’s anal virginity, and I don’t embark upon my extracurricular activity as something lighthearted. My performance in that bedroom, or wherever my client wants his cherry popped, is a sacred honor, one which I complete with the most profound sense of reverence. Being someone’s first gay sexual experience is just as sacred now as it was when I first started upon my other calling of being in the classroom a decade ago after I graduated from college.”
Therefore, the following question must be asked: Just how much is, or was, your virginity worth? Or, better yet, how much would you be willing to shell out to have your hole deflowered for the very first time? For most of us, such a question doesn’t need to be asked. That was probably taken care of when we were in high school, or maybe during Freshman Orientation in college. Was it in your bedroom after you played hooky from school? Or, was it in the back seat of your car? Or your boyfriend's? Maybe, if you were on the down-low, or still closeted, I need to ask…did she finger or eat your ass before you entered her pussy? Perhaps your first time was on your wedding night.
How sweet.
Or, perhaps you were so damn picky about which first piece of meat was going to go inside you that you failed to even establish a connection with another man. Hopefully, when you think of it like that, the service I render is one of sincere necessity. It’s also one of profound courage and respect, and that’s something that I can offer for a fee.
In biblical times, or whenever that Holy Book was crafted by the prophetic storytellers of their time, a woman’s virginity was equated with purity, and therefore penetration was just a business transaction linking two families together for a lifetime over the exchange of a goat or other domesticated farm animal. Today, a woman’s virginity can be bartered, sold, and even auctioned off on the internet for just the right price. I once saw where some woman sold her pop for over $25,000.
But then the following question now has to be asked: What about your son’s virginity?
Your brother’s?
Your best friend’s?
Or, to be more precise, the virginity of your gay son, rainbow brother, or flaming friend? Because let’s face it: I’m not gay for pay and if your sire is of the hetero persuasion, I’m sure there are places in your backyard where he could go to dip his dick into the wetness of ... Anyway, think about what I wrote a few moments ago for a second. Is it hard to imagine the new or seasoned adult man in your life being fucked for the very first time? Most people, gay or straight, don’t want to think of their family members or friends as sexual beings. But fundamentally, we are. According to Freud, we popped out into the world wanting to get it on. Still, even if you reject the notion of infantile sexuality like I do, we were created by the sacred act of lovemaking where at least one of the partners, or hopefully both, had an orgasm. And, from the adolescent conversations I overhear in the high school library I’m in charge of, most parents of gay sons don’t really want to think, much less even want to talk about, their children taking another guy’s cock up the ass, much less rimming the closeted jock strutting across campus.
And, if you are liberated enough to think about the specifics of such a quintessential moment, do you really want it happening in the backseat of a car? Or, in a sleazy hotel populated by whores and prostitutes? Unless that’s what my adult-only clients want, the weekend I give them is one care, loving concern. Their fantasy is fulfilled. Condoms are used, and afterward, as we bask in the afterglow of that venerable moment, they are finally wrapped in the arms of a man who loves them, at least for that moment. Let’s face it, there’s a lot of shady shit going on out there. I make sure the men whose V-card I punch have an experience they’ll be able to tell their future husbands about. An experience their future husbands will also thank me for later in their own marriages, now that we can get married.
And it only costs $3,500.
Expensive? Absolutely. But, trust me, it’ll be worth every damn penny!
