FTT - Dillons's Tale

TRUE FIRST TIME TALES

Dillon's Tale

 Rated: X  Teens, slut-boy (**)

 

 

My first time was just after I started high school, when I was fourteen.

I grew up and lived my whole life so far in the same house. We live north of Chicago, almost in Wisconsin, in a small group of towns all named for the little lake they sit around. We're not far from Fox Lake at all, so if you know the area, you know it's pretty much small towns with farms and forests around them and the lakes.

I lived north of the high school, the trailway, and the lake. Most of my friends lived around the same area of course. So we all knew the area real well before we went to the high school. The rich kids lived south of the trailway, between the lake shore to the east and the high school to the west. The poorer kids lived south of the trailway, including the trailer park, on the west side of the high school opposite from the lake and the rich kids. There wasn't much south of the high school except the middle school, old downtown, and a bunch of middle-class houses of kids I only knew from middle school up. So it was pretty clear who your friends were by where you lived.

In sixth grade I kind of wondered why I wasn’t as hyped up about the girls getting boobs as my friends were. I figured I’d get interested later. The odd thing was that I was ahead of most of my friends as far as puberty went. I had already started getting tall and my voice was sort of cracking, and my privates were really getting different. Tracy was the only friend of mine that was even more advanced than I was, and he even had some pubes he showed me and Mark one sleep-over during the summer before seventh grade.

That night was burned in my head for weeks. Months. I can still remember the moment Tracy pulled down his blue briefs, just low enough to show off the fuzzy hairs above his prick, and just barely showing the root of his prick. It looked fatter than mine for sure. I was jealous of his fuzzy, dark-brown hairs. There weren’t many, and they didn’t cover much area, but they were more than I or any of our friends had.

I barely had a dozen little hairs poking out around the base of my dick at that time. There were maybe another dozen or so on my sack. But they were pubes, and I was really proud of them. So I showed them to Tracy and Mark.

That was the most I did until that day in September just after high school started.

We played a lot of soccer. We loved it. Some guys like baseball or basketball or football, but Tracy, Mark, and me, and some of the other guys in our class were soccer nuts. We played all the time. I loved soccer with a passion.

Tracy was going nuts for the girls. He had boners almost all the time. So did I, but I wasn’t thinking about girls. When we went over to Marks to swim in his pool, I liked seeing them in their swimming trunks with no shirts. And I’d get them talking about girls so that I could see Tracy’s boner. He wore dark-blue trunks with short legs, almost like shorts. No underwear. So when he got excited, it made me excited. We never changed in front of each other, taking turns in the bathroom instead. We always took a long time to change, and we knew why, and we didn’t say anything.

When seventh grade started, and changing and showering in gym class, I began to know why I wasn’t all that excited about the girls tits and butts and bare legs. Seeing other boys in the nude told me why.

At first I was confused and worried and scared. By the end of seventh grade I stopped trying to think I would soon like girls, and accepted that I was going to like boys. That didn’t make it any easier, only helped me stop wondering.

My junior high had a soccer team, so Tracy and Mark and I joined it instead of the junior league. The biggest difference was that we changed and showered at school for practice along with all the other team members. Another really exciting change in life. Our team even got to the semi-finals.

In eighth grade, Tracy got pretty damned hairy down there. So did some of the other boys. I was too. Boners weren’t unusual in the showers, and I had them pretty often. I was beating off as soon as I got home, usually thinking about the naked, wet boys in the showers in gym or soccer practice. Sometimes about Tracy. I was getting to like Tracy a lot. He was...

I guess we all have our own tastes in guys. Mine was pretty much Tracy. And boys like him. Blond hair, light gold, with pale eyebrows and light eyes - blue or gray or mixed. Some tan, not too much. Not too muscly, not all skinny. Red lips were a big turn-on. Big, luscious, red lips. Tracy had them in spades.

I would have told everyone that I was gay if it would mean I could be with Tracy. But Tracy was wild for the girls. He even asked girls out on dates and got hand-jobs from them. One even gave him a blow-job that he bragged about for months.

The summer before high school was filled with furious masturbation to thoughts of Tracy and blond boys from school and on the soccer team. Tracy was going out with girls left and right. Mark was even going ga-ga over Carrie Anderson and spending a lot of time with her brother, a year younger than us, just to be around her.

Tracy made fun of Brian Walker because Brian had a lisp, and called him a homo all the time. I knew Brian wasn’t gay, because I saw where he looked in gym class and around school. He liked girls, and sometimes even stared at Brandy Tyson in lunch class. He had it bad for her. His lisp was because he had nerve damage from a bike accident when he was ten. He’d lost two teeth and gotten seven stitches in his upper lip. He was the most likely gay guy in junior high school, and I saw how he looked at girls and totally ignored the naked boys in the showers.

I felt as alone as I thought anyone could.

Then high school started.

And my eyes were thankful.

There had been many cute guys to look at in my junior high, but now there was so many I couldn’t count them. All kinds. Even guys four years older than me.

I was going insane. I thought there had to be at least one other gay guy in high school, and I was determined to find him. I watched the other guys in the gym showers, hoping to see someone checking out the other guys - but so many of them did that I couldn’t tell who was really looking and who was just looking.

Even on the soccer team, the guys checked each other out. Competition does that to guys I guess.

I kept my eyes on the other boys, waiting to see one looking at another guy in a way that would tell me I could go up to him and start a friendship... and work toward more.

By the end of the first week, I was beginning to lose hope. Guys were checking out each other everywhere I looked. But none of them seemed to actually be interested, just comparing and sizing up the competition.

It was on Friday that my entire world changed. I was walking to soccer practice at the gym with Tracy and Mark when we ran into David and Rob. They waved and joined us, and we talked about soccer as we headed to the gym. Then...

“Look out, there’s the class homo,” David said, nodding at a guy walking toward us down the hall.

He was just a bit slimmer than me, with very blond hair that was tightly wavy but very short. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and bluejeans with white tennis shoes. He didn’t look gay at all, and he didn’t walk funny at all, either. He kept his head and face down.

“Why’s that?” Tracy asked.

“Linden’ll suck your dick. All you gotta do is ask,” Rob explained.

“Yeah, right,” Mark laughed.

“We went to school with him since we were kids. He’s always been a fairy. He’s sucked more dicks than a forty-year-old whore,” David said.

By then, this Linden guy was close enough to really see him. The ends of his short, wavy, bright-blond hair curled up a bit. His face was smooth and gentle, with really soft features. His eyebrows were so light they were as good as invisible. His blue eyes were big and bright. And... oh, God, he had the reddest, plumpest, juiciest lips.

They were turned down in what looked like a perpetual frown. He kept his eyes on the floor and ignored everyone around him as he walked past us.

I got a look at his ass. Plump, rounded. Lean, long legs.

I swallowed with difficulty. I hoped and prayed he really was gay. I had to find out more, so I kept the topic going with...

“How do you know he’ll suck dick? You asked him too?”

I had aimed the question at David, who’d brought the subject up, but I noticed that Rob turned deeply red and tried to act like he hadn’t heard me. I almost tripped over my own feet in surprise.

“Let’s just say I know a couple of guys who didn’t believe the rumors, so they checked it out themselves, and verified it’s true,” David said.

He was also a little red-faced, and his rapid glance at Rob convinced me that Rob was the ᾽couple of guys’ he meant. Or, at least, one of them.

“Even heard he gives better head than girls do,” David went on. “I’d find out myself if I didn’t have girls lined up to do it already.”

Which was pretty much true. David really did have the girls lined up. He was probably one of the most popular kids in our class. It was only the end of the first week, but that much was already pretty obvious.

To prove it, at least ten girls had said hi to him before we got to the gym. Two of them even tried to get him to stop and talk, but he said he was on his way to practice and had to go.

Linden stayed in my head for hours. When practice was over, and I was home and dinner was done, I spent a hot few minutes imagining getting Linden’s pants off and exploring the mysteries of his body.

He really was my type. Short, light-blond hair, very wavy, with little curls on the ends. Intensely blue eyes that were nearly light-blue. Soft features, smooth skin, slightly tanned. Slim but not skinny. And soft, plump, kissable lips.

I spent the weekend beating off to thoughts of Linden. And on Monday, I paid close attention to the other kids in the hallways until I found him. I very descretely asked around, and found three guys who also went to junior high with him, and they verified the rumors that he was gay, and had given blow-jobs to guys, mostly to not get beat up. After school I was very careful to find out which bus he got onto. Tuesday, I found out where that bus ran. On Wednesday, I rode my bike to school, said I had a dentist appointment after school, and skipped out on soccer practice. I rode as hard and fast as I could to get ahead of the bus, and then follow it. I was sweating like a dying pig, but I finally saw him get off the bus, and then followed him home.

Now I knew where he lived.

Way south of school, in a pretty nice house, probably four bedrooms, basement, and two-car garage. Huge yard with trees and landscaping.

Now what?

I wanted to ride up to the door, knock, and as him if he wanted a boyfriend.

He was attractive enough that I knew I could really get into him. And I really wanted into him. Pun intended.

I was sweaty and tired, so I sat down beneath a tree in the park a few houses down and rested. It wasn’t long before James Preston walked up the street and knocked on his door. Linden opened the door, smiled, and let him in.

I sat there really shocked.

I knew what they were doing. I was pretty sure, anyway.

Just under half-an-hour later, James came out and walked back down the street. I waited, then I rode home, wondering.

The next day I did the same thing.

Kevin Weller visited for twenty minutes.

No one came on Wednesday or Thursday.

On Friday, Casey Wiley came to his house, was inside for twenty minutes, then came out alone.

On Saturday and Sunday I played soccer with the guys and got bitched at for missing so much practice. I promised to not skip out this week. But I had to spy on Linden again. I had to know if he did that every day. Every day I went, and almost every day someone visited for less than half-an-hour, then I went to practice. I told the guys and the coach that I had a girlfriend, and we only saw each other right after school when her parents weren’t home. I was congratulated and left alone about being late to practice, but I was bothered a lot by the guys about details. I made up stories about making out and having sex.

On the weekend, I played soccer with the guys.

On Monday, I saw Rob Tallier visit him for half-an-hour. He saw me when he left. He walked toward me.

I instantly began sweating and shaking.

He sat down as if I’d invited him and looked at me. I couldn’t meet his eyes, though I tried.

I decided to act innocent and surprised.

“You gonna?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, and asked, “What?”

“Get a blow-job.”

I felt my face go red. I was sweating like a mad pig.

“I won’t say anything, and you won’t say anything. Right?”

I nodded.

“I guess he’s getting popular in high school. Lots more horny dicks than in junior high. He’s never scheduled two in the same day before. I don’t think so, anyway.”

I nodded.

“I won’t think you’re gay. I’m not. I just like getting head, and he’s really good at it. Go for it. Just remember, we never saw each other. We were never here. Got it?”

I nodded.

He got up and walked away.

I wanted to throw up, I was so nervous. Rob was no bully, and I was no wussy, but I felt as intimidated as I had ever felt. He’d said everything so levelly and evenly, and without any threatening manner, but all the same, his threat was implicit and clear.

I looked up and down both directions. I watched Rob disappear down the block.

I waited, thinking.

᾽He’s never scheduled two in the same day before.’

Scheduled?

This was real. Linden was really giving blow-jobs to guys. A different one almost every day. And they kept coming back. Making appointments.

This was really fucking happening.

I couldn’t believe it. I was in total shock.

I looked at his house, and realized that behind those walls, just a few minutes ago, the adorably cute Linden had sucked Rob’s fat cock.

Rob was hung. I’d seen it in the showers in soccer practice. I’d love to suck on that thing. And Linden had. While I had sat just across the street and down the block.

My dick went to full mast and began pounding.

I wanted to go across the street and knock on the door. But what would I say? ᾽Hello, Linden. I’d like a blow-job, please.’

I figured his parents would be home around five-thirty or so. Apparently only one guy came each day, so the coast was clear. But I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. Would he be upset? Would he refuse. Get angry?

I waited until a car pulled into his driveway at ten to six, then I rode home.

I thought all night about how to get to know Linden. Even if I didn’t know he really was giving blow-jobs, I wanted to get to know him. He was so good looking. And apparently gay. I had to get to know him.

I worked on things to say, ways to talk to him, what to talk about, everything. I got a whole plan ready. I knew he turned down the music hallway between fourth and fifth period, and that it was mostly empty then.

On Tuesday, I was bitched at for missing practice again. I arranged to bump into him in the hallway. Actually bump into him. I walked with a book open in my hands, and looked up from beneath my eyebrows, and walked right in front of him.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, dude!” I said, bobbling my book.

“No biggie,” he said, without looking at me, and moved to walk around me.

“Hey,” I said.

He turned to look at me, but kept walking slowly away.

“Uhhh...”

“What?” he asked, slowly stepping further away with each second.

I couldn’t remember what I had thought up to say. It was all gone.

His face, his eyes, his body, it all wiped away my thoughts. All I could do was look at him. From his beautifully wavy blond hair with it’s curled ends, to his eyes the color of a cold winter sky, to his regal, straight, narrow nose, to his sculpted, fine cheeks, to his plump, red, moist lips, to his narrow chin, to his lean, smooth neck, to his pale blue t-shirt that revealed a lean, flat chest and sides, to his faded blue-jeans that revealed a bulging package, I couldn’t think, just look.

He stopped walking, and looked at me. Appraising me. I could feel his beautiful eyes taking in my looks and appearance and awkwardness. And he smiled.

“I’m Linden,” he said softly.

“I know,” I whispered.

I knew I had messed up.

But he smiled wider.

He waited.

“Oh! Uh... Dillon.”

He nodded, then said, “Hi, Dillon. Nice name.”

He pulled his books up from his side to hold them in front of his chest with both arms. He canted his hips onto one leg. He smiled.

I lost my breath.

I literally shook on my legs.

He bit his lower lip, grinning. His eyes held mine steadily.

“Gonna ask?” he asked.

“Uhhh... ask what?”

He canted his hips to the other leg, grinning, waiting.

“Is it true?” I asked.

“Depends.”

“Depends?”

“On what you’re asking.”

His grin was full of mischief. Or something. It was so... God damnit. Hot.

“Are...” I squeaked. Really squeaked. My voice cracked way up high. I coughed, cleared my throat, and tried again. “Are you... really... “

I couldn’t ask.

“Am I a fag?”

I blushed hotly. I managed to nod, and then look back at him.

“Yeah, I am. And yeah, I do give the best head around.”

My eyes blinked several times. I actually had to stop them from blinking on and on by opening them widely and stretching them in a way several times.

He laughed.

“So, you gonna ask?”

I knew what he meant. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. So fucking badly.

The hallway was deserted now. The bell was going to ring any second. I was going to be late. Worse, I was going to make him late. Even worse, we could be seen standing together in the hallway, alone.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t ask.

He bit his lower lip again. So cute. I wanted to lick that lip so badly. Suck on it. Nibble it.

He rattled off his address, then added, “Tomorrow. Four o’clock. Okay?’

He began walking away, backward, smiling. So adorable.

“Okay?” he asked again.

I nodded.

He repeated his address, then asked, “Got it?’

I nodded.

“Hope I see ya then, Dill.”

The bell rang, covering my words...

“Yeah. Me too.”

I stood there for a long time, just plain unable to move.

I’d made a date for a blow-job. From a guy. From a really adorable guy.

I actually rocked on my feet, nearly falling over.

A blow-job!

From him!

Tomorrow!

I realized I hadn’t mentioned that I had soccer practice. Then I saw that it was a way to get out of going to see him.

I remembered to breathe, then walked to my class in a daze. The whole day was a daze. Mark and Tracy both said I was acting funny and asked what was wrong. I said my girlfriend wanted me to meet her parents. They agreed I was in a world of shit.

After soccer practice, I went home, sat in stunned shock, had dinner, then sat in my room in shock for the rest of the night. I tried doing homework, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Linden and tomorrow. My guts twisted and curdled. I sweat and shook. I couldn’t even get horny to beat off.

I had a hard time getting to sleep. The next morning I almost tried to call off from school.

The whole day was a haze of fear and worry. Shock and nervousness. When I saw Linden the first time, he didn’t even so much as smile. He acted as if our conversation hadn’t occurred.

For a few minutes through the next class I was hurt, but then I realized how right he was to do so. By the end of the class I’d decided to ignore and forget the whole thing until later.

That really helped. I had almost a normal time the rest of the day.

At the last bell, I still hadn’t decided if I was going to his place or soccer practice. I had to decide now. Either I was going to practice, or I was walking to his house. I hadn’t ridden my bike. I guess subconsciously I didn’t want to go.

I was nearly at my locker, where I was going to meet Tracy and Mark, when I decided. I told them I was going to my girlfriend’s place and talk her out of getting so serious. They asked who she was again. I said if I told them they wouldn’t believe me, and if it got around, her last boyfriend would probably come after me or something.

I left them walking to the gym, and began the long walk to his house. I ended up walking around the last corner onto his street just before four.

I was a bundle of nerves. It was already warm, hot really, so I was soaked with sweat. I was sure he would be grossed out and not willing to touch my sweaty junk anyway. But I still walked to his house.

At least I can talk to him, I decided. Maybe a friendship. A gay friend. That would be so cool.

I was breathing so hard when I walked up in front of his house. I wasn’t tired, I was just so nervous.

I stood there, stationary, daring myself to walk up the sidewalk to his door, when I saw a curtain move on the second floor, and saw him looking out at me.

He waved, smiled, and was gone.

It was too late to leave now.

Then the front door opened.

He waved.

I waved, stupidly.

Then I began walking up his sidewalk.

“Hey, Dill. Come on in.”

I walked past him into the almost frigid inside.

“Want something to drink? You actually walked, huh?”

I nodded, following him to the kitchen.

“Soda? Juice? Water?”

“Juice?”

“Grape, Cranberry, Apple?”

“Apple.”

He poured two glasses of it, handed me one, and led me to the stools at the counter. He sipped his juice, I downed mine. He laughed, and poured more into my glass.

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“Welcome,” he said.

His voice was so smooth and sweet. Lower than I thought it would be for his frame and size. Mellow, almost.

“Glad you came.”

“You are?”

“Sure.”

He smiled at me.

It made me smile in response.

“Be right back.”

He was gone just a few moments, and returned with a washrag and a small towel.

“Looks like you could use this,” he said, handing me the washrag.

It smelled like spices, or aftershave. Slightly. And it was cool and wet. It felt so good on my face. He held out the small towel, and took the rag from me. When I finished drying my face, he took the towel and put it on the counter, then picked up the washrag.

He said, “Let me,” and stepped up close to me.

He lifted the tail of my shirt. I nearly slammed my hands onto his to stop him, but he was already sliding the tail of my shirt up over my head. I lifted my arms out of natural reaction before I thought of doing so. He put my shirt on the stool-back.

I was stunned as he folded the washrag and began wiping my chest with it. Then my shoulders, neck, and then arms. Then he moved to do my back and then my sides. It felt so... man. I was sprouting massive wood.

Then he lifted my arm and did under it, then the other. Then he used the towel on me, all over.

“I’ll throw your shirt in the dryer,” he said, taking it out of the kitchen along with the rag and towel.

I felt conspicuous sitting there, naked to my waist.

He came back, sat down, poured more juice for me, and smiled at me.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

I really did. Cleaner, anyway. But so nervous I could fall off that stool if I stopped concentrating on sitting upright.

“Come on.”

We went upstairs, to his room. His room!

It was all blues and creams, and so tidy it could have been a movie set. There were trophies on a shelf for piano.

“You play piano?”

“Yeah. Not bad, either,” he said, looking at me. “You’ve got a nice chest. And body..”

Our eyes met. His bright-sky-blue orbs made me weak.

I remembered that I was supposed to be there for a blow-job, and my guts went tight and my mouth went dry.

I could feel him sizing me up again. This time I didn’t have a shirt on, and we weren’t in the hallway at school, and I was there for a blow-job.

I’d never felt so nervous.

Ever!

“You’ve never... done anything before. Have you?”

He asked it so nicely. As if it didn’t mean anything at all.

I nodded. Then I shook my head. Then I said, “I mean...”

“That’s okay. First time for everything, right?”

I nodded.

He walked toward me. I began trembling.

“Dill?”

“Huh?” I squeaked.

Damned cracky voice.

“Do you like girls?” He paused, waiting. “Or...”

I felt every nerve in my body tingle.

My mouth was too dry to answer.

I wanted to tell him I liked boys. Him.

His eyes ate through me, and saw the truth.

He reached out and put the palm of his hand on my chest, right in the middle. He looked right into my eyes.

“Me too. Girls are so... weird. But guys... I can feel your heart beating. Nervous, huh?”

I barely managed to swallow, then nodded.

And the soft touch of his hand on the center of my chest was nearly electric.

I wondered if he could feel my body buzzing with his hand. Or just my hammering heart.

His hand moved from the center of my chest to my nipple. It roamed over it, sending tingling fire through it and down to my groin.

My whole body was trembling. It was hard to breathe. Muscles were tense. It even felt like the hair on my scalp was nervous.

“You have a great bod, Dill.”

“So do you,” I replied before even thinking it. “I mean...!”

He laughed.

“It’s okay,” he said, then stepped even closer.

I could smell his cologne. His handsome face was just inches from mine. His blue eyes locked onto mine.

I thought I would faint any second.

Then I felt his other hand on my side, sliding around to my back.

He stepped even closer.

“I’ve never kissed a guy,” he said softly, almost in a whisper. “Usually, the guy drops his pants, and I suck his dick.”

Oh, God! I was on fire. His hands were smoothly roaming my front and back, and his soft, red, luscious lips were just an inch from mine. And I knew I was about to kiss him. Holy fuck!

“Can I kiss you?”

I nodded, unable to breathe.

Then I lost the ability to see as I felt his warm, moist, soft lips against mine. They moved gently on mine, sometimes softly drawing on them with gentle suction.

I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed, I only knew the perfect caress of his lips on mine, of his hands on my chest and back, and the trembling pressure filling my entire being.

I tried to emulate what his lips were doing. It was a complicated dance, in which I followed as best as I could. Sex built up inside of me in more and more rapid pulses of my heartbeat.

Then his lips left mine, and I breathed again, and for the first time ever, I felt happy about being gay.

“Dill?”

“Huh?”

Fucking squeaky voice!

His hands held my sides now. His eyes held mine. His expression was serious.

“Are you gay?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

He smiled a little.

“Do you like me?”

“Oh, yeah!” I replied, nodding even more energetically.

His smile widened.

“Can we do more than just me giving you a blow-job?”

“Yes!”

His smile filled his face.

“I want to make love with you,” he said softly, moving his body against mine, his hands moving to my back, and I found myself in my first embrace.

I reached around him and felt his body in my arms. And I felt his body against mine. And I felt his excitement against mine. And our lips moved in sync, and our breathing locked in step, and I lost myself, and I became more than myself.

I felt as if I were spinning a thousand revolutions a second. I felt as if I were a thousand miles tall. I felt as if there were no one else in the world but Linden.

I slid my hands under his shirt, and felt the smooth, warm skin of his back as I slid his shirt up and eventually over his head. His chest was smooth and even, with light-tan nipples so small they looked like new pennies. The skin of his chest was warm and smooth, and I could feel his pounding heart. I could see his rapid breaths in the movement of his chest. His sides were smooth and lean, and the skin so warm and soft. His tummy was flat and smooth, with a hint of fuzz above the button of his jeans.

His hands found the button on my jeans and undid it, then the zipper, and they fell to the floor with a small push. I saw my excitement pushing out a tent in my boxers. His hands slid around to my butt and cupped both of my cheeks. He squeezed and massaged them as we kissed, and as my hands fumbled with his jeans button and then zipper. I shoved them down, and he stepped out of them. I felt his erection pushing against my hip even as my own was clamped between myself and his hip.

I squeezed his buttocks through his boxers. He moaned into my mouth. His hand slid up my butt, then down into my boxers and over the skin. His fingers moved slightly into my crack and opened my cheeks, squeezing them as well.

I sighed heavily into his soft, warm lips. I moved my own fingers over the waistband of his boxers and into them, and felt the warm, soft skin of his buttocks. I slid my fingers between them and pulled them apart, pushed them together, over and over.

“Oh, God,” he moaned.

He ground his erection against me until it was beside my own, then ground his hips so that our hard dicks were being massaged next to each other.

We pushed each others underwear down at the same time, stepped out of them at the same time, all while massaging each others lips with our own.

Now I felt the warm skin of his hip pressing my erection against my hip, and I felt the hot hardness of his against my hip. It felt much larger than mine. I had to see it. Actually see it.

I backed away from his luscious lips and looked down. I stepped back.

My own dick was free and clear of him, but his was longer and still rested against my hip at an angle. It was so pale, and perfect. It looked perfectly straight, perfectly even. The head was mostly hidden by foreskin, only the red end of the head visible. Pre-cum was already leaking from the oval, open slit in the end. At its base, pale-blond hair was so slight and light that it almost looked as if he didn’t have any pubic hair.

In contrast, my shorter dick was slightly bent to my right, slightly curved upward about halfway along its length, and the exposed head was deeply red with a small hole in the end. My dark-brown pubes were thicker, or looked thicker being so much darker.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the middle of my shaft and slowly slid along it. The touch was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was so warm, so soft, so electric. I shivered all over and my breath caught in my throat.

I grabbed his longer dick with my hand and felt the hot hardness of it. It was so straight. When I moved his skin back, the foreskin slowly unrolled from the head, exposing the wet, dark head. He sighed heavily and I saw him shiver. I realized he was probably enjoying this as much as I was.

I looked up just as he did, and our eyes locked momentarily. Then mine roamed over the soft, gentle features of his face. He was so handsome. Beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him.

Our hands moved slowly up and down each other as we looked at each other. As if on cue, we kissed again. I felt as if electricity were coursing through me, from his lips to where his hand held my erection. Then I felt his other hand take hold of my sack and balls. I copied him. His felt so big, heavy, and wonderful.

His hands were making magic. My body was reacting rapidly. My legs were now locked in preparation for release. I wanted to stop, so it could last longer, but the urge was irresistible. I had to have my hands on him, and having his hands on me was just too wonderful.

I felt more wetness on his head as my hand roamed over the length of it. I felt it shudder. I felt his body shudder. He moaned into my mouth.

“Oh, God, Dill, I’m....”

I felt his dick jerk, and his body twitch. I felt his hot semen hit me just above the crease of my left leg at my groin. He was cumming! In my hand!

As his dick jerked again, I came, too. My entire body went rigid, my dick filled with heavy, hot blood, and my balls unleashed themselves with a fury I’d never felt before.

“Oh, God!” I groaned into his continuing moans as we tried to continue kissing.

More of his hot semen splashed onto my hip and hand, as I pumped what felt like molten lava against his hip.

We crushed ourselves together, trapping our hands on each others dicks and balls. And trapping our ejaculations between us. I felt his cock pulsing in my hand and against my belly, and his semen against my skin. I pumped my semen against him. We moaned as we kissed and fondled each other as best as we could, pressed tightly together.

Finally, our bodies softened against each other. Our kisses broke for brief moments for breath. Our hot cum soaked our hands and lower bellies, and was traveling downward, leaving tickling trails.

It was awkward, but he maneuvered us to his bed, where we fell onto our sides, still holding each others dicks and balls, kissing. Now our cum-trails changed angles and ran toward our sides. Our hands roamed, leaving slippery, sticky trails all over each other. And soon we were ready again.

He flipped ends, and taught me how to give oral by example. He probably really did give the best head around. He knew a million things to do to a dick with lips and tongue, and things to do with hands to make it fucking amazing.

It was pure bliss. Pleasure on a scale I didn’t know existed. The tastes, smells, textures, it was all wonderful. The feeling of a hot penis in my mouth was exquisite. And the sensations as his beautiful lips and talented tongue worked on mine! Wow!

I loved his foreskin. The way it rolled over most of his head, but was so easily rolled back, was simply hypnotic. It was so soft and velvety. And sensitive. He loved having my tongue wiggle under it against the edges of his head. And I loved doing that.

The feeling of his cock as it pulsed and throbbed, unleashing his semen, was fucking amazing. Then the feeling of the thick, musky fluid as it squirted into my mouth! And the way his taint pulsed and throbbed in time with his cock. And the intense, overwhelming feeling of being sucked to a finish brought me to the point of nearly screaming in pleasure.

We rested, kissing, then he showed me how to play with his prostate as he played with mine. And rimming. And fucking.

We lasted a long time that third time, and then rested in each others arms.

It was pure bliss. Holding him in my arms as he held me in his was the pinnacle of the entire afternoon.

He stopped blowing other guys. He told them his grandmother was staying at his house now. I went over, using the alley, every day. We were found out before the end of the school year. We got a lot of shit, and made fun of, and Mark stopped talking to me. Tracy was busy with his steady girl, then another, so we hardly hung out at all. I had few other friends. He had none. We were together, and really happy. We stayed together all through high school.

This year we went off to different colleges, promising to be true to each other. We Skype and email and text and phone, sometimes all in the same day. We got together over Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.

I think we're always going to be together.

 




Thanks to Bill for editing.


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emirikol

05-05-2018, 02:18

+1 -0  

A wonderful story, and one I hope is true!


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