Bi Panic part 1

I received a message.
I had created an account on a dating site a mere minute ago, when my notifications went off. It was a direct message from a dude named Sam.
He said “Hey”,
I said “Hey”.
He asked “what's up?”,
I answered “Not much hbu?”.
This was beginning to turn into a fascinating conversation — not, but I was bored and lonely, so I just went with it.
I had just left a long-term relationship and was rather depressed, which had led me to creating an account on this dating website, in a hope to distract me a bit.
Anyway, as the conversation went on, he asked me if I wanted to spontaneously join him for a drink tonight. I had looked at his photos, I knew what this guy looked like. He was a solid 8 or 9, so I just thought, 'fuck it, why not?' and agreed to come over. This was the first date I had in years and the first date with a guy since I was 18.
He opened the door and lead me in and into the living room. It was a big, open room with a TV corner, with couches and all, a mini bar and a lifting area, with a mat on the floor and all sorts of dumbbells and weights. Sam looked like he was certainly using them, big and beefy as he was. I was fit too, just not as muscular as Sam was. We immediately began drinking at the bar while the TV played some show we didn't pay attention to. In person, he was way less superficial and more talkative. He was quite nice and had a soft personality. He told me he worked at a gym and health center for older people.
As the evening went on, we talked more and more about our past. It was hard for him coming out as gay to his family and friends, and he was often times antagonized for his sexuality. While I also experienced some of that, my family was more accepting of me coming out as bisexual.
Sam had himself into multiple hetero relationships in his teenage years. His first time was also with a girl. I wasn't sure if this topic made him more sad or horny, as his eyes showed a hint of suffering, but his hands crept onto my leg, caressing me. We switched topics and talked about our current lives. All the while, his hand kept itching towards my crotch. When it got to the point where he could touch my zipper, I spoke up.
“What are doing?”
“Oh — I, err, I'm sorry.”, he took his hand away.
'Shit', I thought. I didn't want to scare him off. I've never been good at controlling my tonality. What I said was meant to sound seductive.
“No — Please, continue.”, I said, putting his hand back and leaning in for a kiss.
It's strange, I think, how fast homosexual dates move forward. On almost all dates I've been with guys, even if there weren't many, most of them ended up with us making out or even more. Women always wanted to wait for at least a few dates. I don't know if that's on me, or if it is a general thing, but that scheme seemed to repeat itself, when Sam worked my dick out of my pants.