I was 19 when I first had full-on sex with another man. I was at college, living in dorms, and the experience—aside from the usual horrifying awkwardness and somewhat spontaneity of the occasion—was completely and utterly unremarkable aside from one thing: the guy I slept with identified as straight. It was late or early, depending on your outlook on the world when I was joined by the boy who was living in the room next to mine, way back on the other side of the building. He was clearly intoxicated, but it was a party after all and who was I, quite drunk myself, to judge. The minutiae of exactly how things developed from us being together in that room to us having slightly unsuccessful sex in a bathroom in a different corridor have since escaped me.
A few weeks later I was bored and horny and a little stoned so I called him. He invited me over to his place to watch porn with him and his roommate. It wasn't long before we were all in bed having a threesome. I'm happily married to a woman now, but I'm glad I did that back then. It was fun and it felt good.