(t/b, true, first time)
I was not a dirty minded little kid. I was not into anything bad, like fighting, stealing, drugs or even cigarettes. I wasn't really even into anything overtly sexual, not compared to other kids I knew who flaunted their copies of Penthouse and Playboy and bragged of chicks they'd messed around with. But today, when I look back on my early sexcapades, I'm surprised by the sheer number of sexual adventures I seem to have had in my youth. I sure didn't feel like I was a "sexually active" kid, but looking back I guess I was a fairly adventurous boy.
I was having fun, playful, innocent sexual experiences, from the time I was four years old, but I guess the incident that counts as my true, "first time" sexual experience would have to be the first time in my tree house with Billy.
From the time I was very young I always enjoyed finding any way possible to play "nakey games" with others. I played doctor with the little girl-next-door when we were both very young. We knew getting naked and touching our privates parts was wrong, so we called the game " playing nasty." I must have been only four or five years old at the time as it was before we started school. One time I got caught by my mom. She found us in the closet with our pants down. I thought she'd kill us but she was very calm and just told the girl it was time for her to go home that day, as if she'd found us playing house or something. We were both young and it was, truly, very innocent exploration.
The girl finally out grew it, and knowing it was wrong to be naked with a girl anyway, I decided it would really only be proper to play these kinds of "nakey games" with other boys. Besides, I was curious how I compared to other males. I had no bothers and not much to compare to, besides my dad, who was a fully grown man. I used to enjoy showering with him, when I was very little, but there came a time when that stopped.
Playing "nakey games" with other boys seemed okay to me. After all, we were just boys horsing around with our boy toys. It seemed (and was) very innocent; showing each other our little weenies, sword fighting with them when they'd get hard, especially when we'd shower together after swimming, bouncing them up and down when they were stiff. I was between five and eight years old doing these things and they just felt like good, innocent, boyish play. I never missed a chance though.
During the period when I was around eight to ten years old there was an older boy I was very fond of playing with. He was fifteen when we started and the most handsome kid in the neighborhood. I wasn't the only one who thought so; all the girls loved him and would compete for his attention. He was very popular, but what no one knew was that he and I used to go to secret places in the woods or into empty houses, where we'd take our clothes off and just "hang out" together like naked buddies. For a while we turned one place into our own secret clubhouse, putting hot, naked Playboy girlie centerfolds on the walls. He always had an eye for lovely ladies, and I enjoyed looking at them too.
Sadly as I look back, there was seldom any physical contact between us. Mostly we just shared nudity, like mature adults at a nude beach or in the sauna at a gym. I would have liked more, but he was the leader and he didn't seem interested in playing much. But every once in a great while he'd suddenly reach over and grab me in horseplay. I'd laugh as he easily lifted me up in the air, cupping his warm hands around my hairless little peanut (presumably just to get a better grip). Whatever his pretense I truly loved it and secretly wished he'd do it more often. He seldom did.
His interest in girls (always strong) kept growing and he tired of playing naked with a little boy, long before I stopped being one. Gradually we just stopped playing as he moved on, leaving me wishing more than anything for another friend like him; an older boy (or man) who'd like to play naked games with me again.
Years passed and there was no one else to play with like that but I think I was always looking, hoping, that someone would be willing to play with me, like that, again. It turned from the 60's to the 70's as I grew to double digit age, still with no one to play those special games with me. And then, one day, a kid named Billy came into my tree house, and into my sex life.
I was only twelve when we met but had already started puberty. He was seventeen or eighteen, I'm not sure which, but old enough to be a senior in High School. My big sister had a girl friend and Billy was that girl's boyfriend.
One night while my sister and her friend were talking "girl stuff" Billy got bored and started talking to me. I was cool with that. No one paid much attention to me so I was thrilled to be talking to someone. He'd noticed my tree house in the backyard and even though it was dark he asked if he could see the inside of it. I said sure, having no idea where this was going, and offered to show him the way up.
This was Florida during the summer, where the weather was always warm. At this point in my life I tended to run around half naked most of the time and as this was during the summer I was in my usual summer uniform. Shirtless, shoeless, and wearing nothing but a pair of cut off denim short-shorts, I was a virtual poster boy for sun block. My skin was very smooth, well tanned, bronzed by the sun and boyishly hairless. I was thin but quite lithe, you could see my ribs, but I wasn't weak or scrawny. What little meat I had on me was all muscle. I was a little Tarzan boy, swinging from the trees, a very physical kid who was into all the usual boyhood activities of running, climbing, biking, and most especially, swimming.
I lead Billy into the back yard and started up the rungs of my homemade ladder (pieces of wood nailed into a tree trunk) that led straight up into the center of my tree house. Billy stood underneath, looking up at me as I climbed in. Once I was up on the platform I sat down, my legs dangling, and invited him to come join me, which he did.
As soon as he was inside I closed the hatch that made sure no one would fall through the hole in the center of the floor by accident. It was night and there were no lights in my tree house, but you could still see a bit. He looked around. My tree house was a partially enclosed place with a lot of narrow cracks between the boards of the siding that let in light from outside and a big open window (a hole really) on one end that let in the moonlight that night.
Billy walked around for a moment, commenting on how nice it was. Then, as he stood at the window, he grew silent. "This reminds me of something," he said quietly.
"What?" I asked.
"I can't tell you?" he answered. "I want to, but I don't think I can tell you."
Of course, my curiosity was instantly aroused and I think actually begged him to tell me. Finally, reluctantly, he agreed, but with some special "conditions."
"I can't just TELL you," he said. "Some parts of the story, I'm going to have to SHOW you."
That piqued my interest.
"And another thing," he went on, "You have to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about this. It's a secret just between us, okay? Promise me you won't tell or I can't tell anything, all right?"
Instinctively, I knew where this was going. He wanted to play some kind of "nakey game" with me! I was so excited, I could hardly believe this was really happening.
My twelve-year-old prick went stiff in my shorts at the very thought. I shifted, pushing it down my leg to give it some room. Of course, he couldn't see me do that. Not in my dark tree house. He didn't know how aroused I was and I'm sure he must have been scared to death about how I'd react to what he might do. He knew he could get into some very big trouble doing this. But I didn't.
I knew that *I* could get into trouble, but I didn't think he could. After all, he was the big kid, I was the little kid, little kids always get in trouble and punished. Big kids, seventeen-years-old, he couldn't get into any trouble, right? So I was worried, but what poor Billy had no possible way of knowing was that he had just stumbled onto a boy who was more eager to play this game than HE was!
I always felt it was a special thing to have a friend so close you could be naked together, it was a bonding thing, and I had not had a friend of that kind in years. I wanted that closeness again. My family, and in particular my father, was not a very touchy feely lot, especially after Dad and I stopped showering together when I was around six. I was a "touch starved" boy, eager and willing to play with anyone just for the pleasure of direct, physical, human contact. I needed it, I craved it, although I didn't consciously realize that at the time. I was a boy aching for physical contact in my life. This made me a ripe victim for anyone who wanted to touch me in an intimate way.
In elementary school there had been a male coach who had been very fond of turning me over his lap during recess and pretend spanking me. He'd put his hand on my bottom and I would naturally tense up nervously in anticipation of him striking me, even if only in play. He'd squeeze my cheeks, caressing them softly and telling me to relax as he rubbed his hand over my shorts and told me what a good boy I was. I enjoyed it. I had no idea at the time that there was anything strange or improper in what he was doing.
Not long after that he asked my teacher if he could have me stay behind at the end of recess each day when the rest of the class went in, so I could help him collect the play equipment and put it back into the storage closet. Sadly, my teacher said no as she didn't feel I could afford to miss that much class. I was sad about that, but he accepted it. Interestingly, he didn't ask for anyone else when he couldn't have me.
Looking back now I suspect he sensed how receptive I was to his touch, how much I enjoyed it, even back then. All I know is I just loved it when he touched me. I wanted, needed and secretly ached to be touched, even though I could never have put that into words back then.
I guess I was the kind of kid the world tries to pretend doesn't exist; a horny, sexy, little boy who badly wanted an older male to be his intimate friend, to fondle him, hold him, and be sexual with him. I guess that such boys do exist, outside of stories on the Internet, because I know for a fact I was one! I wanted it; I was just too shy to initiate such a thing.
But now... Billy was making the opening moves and I was so eager...
Of course I immediately promised Billy, swore up and down, that it would be okay for him to do whatever he wanted with me, that I wouldn't tell anyone, as long as he didn't actually HURT me (as in, cause me pain) while doing it. As long as that was the case, I told him, I'd keep it a secret, no matter what. I think my eagerness showed, so he began to tell me a story.
Billy explained how these guys had come up to him in the high school bathroom. He told me, exactly, in great detail, what they had done to him.
It was probably a total crock, and I knew it even then, but I didn't care. I sensed where he was going with this and I wanted to go there even more than he did. And it was a cool sex story that kept me hard and feeling horny as I listened.
Sure enough, as the tale unfolded, these boys soon had him cornered in the bathroom and then he got to the part where they reached out and touched him in a certain, private place.
"I can't tell you. I've got to show you."
Once more he asked if I was sure I was okay with this and if I still promised not to tell anyone? I told him I was fine with anything (as long as it didn't hurt) and he could go ahead. In the dark of my tree house he reached out with his hand and gently began to rub my very erect boyhood through my pants.
I sighed at his touch; it was just so good to feel a hand there. Even my old friend hadn't touched me there very often, and it had been years since I'd felt any hand besides my own on my dink.
Billy may have been a little startled by what he felt. I had begun puberty early and was well endowed for a young boy. Not only was I more developed then most boys my age, but at this moment, my preteen cock was hard and swollen in anticipation.
As he stroked me my hips pushed ever so gently forward against the pressure of hand and I'm sure he could tell that I really liked what he was doing.
"You've got a nice hardon," he whispered.
I had never heard the term "hard-on" before. Kids my age called it a "boner," but I knew what he meant. It wasn't the last new thing I was to learn that night.
He continued the story, discussing how they had fondled him, and as he told of that, he groped me ever more deeply, letting his fingers explore the length of my boyish cock, up and down, softly probing. Then came the inevitable point in his story where they took his pants off, exposing him, hard and naked, before their sinister eyes. Of course, he would have to "show me" that too.
As I stood in front of him he began undoing my shorts. My knees trembled while he fumbled awkwardly with the snap on my cut offs. After a moment I said, "I'll get it," and quickly unsnapped them, zipping down my zipper for him as well.
He took my shorts by the sides and pulled them down to my knees. Suddenly I was standing in the dark before him, a nervous but aroused twelve-year-old, wearing nothing by my Hanes, white cotton, boy's briefs. The air was warm, but I quivered with adrenaline, my knees shaking as I trembled nervously. I felt very vulnerable, but I didn't want him to stop.
His fingers moved down my stomach, slid under the waistband and probed deep inside my underwear where he found the few fresh pubic hairs I had there.
At that point in my life those sparse hairs were the only ones on my entire body, other than my head, which wasn't very furry either as my Dad insisted I wear a crew cut. My skin was soft, smooth and totally hairless everywhere else, save for that downy blond fuzzy that many boys get when they've spent a lot of time in the sun.
Billy began moving his fingers deeper down the front of my cotton briefs, his bare fingers now fondling the length of my dick up and down, stroking it and pulling on the skin until he worked his hand down below and was gently rubbing my hairless balls.
"Are you cold?" he asked, because I was shaking so.
"No," I answered, still trembling.
"Are you okay with this?"
"uh-huh…" I nodded.
I was enjoying it, but I was nervous, and I was also getting worried about something else. What if he just wanted to get me to show him my dick, and then after I did, he'd laugh at me and run off and tell my sister or my parents that I had pulled out my dick in front of him? Then I'd be in trouble! I thought, in my childish naïveté, that he might trick me into showing him mine, then make fun of it without ever showing me his! The reason I was so worried was because exactly that had already happened to me once.
A few months before this a boy at school had asked me to show him my dick behind the building. I had done it, in exchange for him showing me his. Only he didn't. He looked at mine and laughed, telling me that I was "freakishly big!" (his exact words!) Then he ran off without ever showing me his! Now mind you, this was a 4th grader talking. I'm sure he had nothing to compare my dick to but his own, very immature, undeveloped little boy's peepee. But his words stung me nonetheless. I didn't want to be "freakish" I wanted to be normal!
Not only did he run off without showing me his, but he told others about what I had done!!!
Soon other boys were coming up at recess and asking to see my "freakishly big, hairy dick" because they'd heard I was "bigger than boys in Junior High School." Of course, I refused, having been burned already, but I was hurt and embarrassed and ashamed of my hideously out of proportion organ. I didn't know about how much a dick changes during puberty or that being big would be considered a good thing later on. They were all preadolescent with dicks about 1-1/2" to, at most, 3" long, and about as big around as a number 2 pencil. I was between 5"-6" and much thicker. Nothing, by adult standards, but much more than they had back in Elementary School.
So as I found myself in my tree house with a boy once more wanting to see my dick, I still had that recent scar and decided that this time I was not going to be stupid.
As he started to pull my underwear down I stopped him.
"No!" I said it very softly, just a whisper, so no one could hear, but firmly.
He froze, no doubt terrified I was about to blow the whistle
"You take yours off too."
I wasn't going to get caught with MY pants down again! At the time I thought myself quite clever.
To my great relief, (and probably his too) he agreed to my terms and very willingly undid his pants. He slid them down boldly, pants and underwear together in one smooth move, down to his knees, without any hesitation or embarrassment. I watched his dick spring out into the moonlight.
It was beautiful! A fully mature, hairy, big boy's cock! The first penis, other than my own, that I'd seen in years! It was sweet looking, thick, stubby, but not very long
His size didn't matter to me at all (perhaps because of my early teasing I have never cared about size) and as I reached out my hand and took hold of it the only thing I was aware of was how good it felt to have another boys penis (hell, practically a man's cock!) HARD and in my hand. He was so stiff! The first time I'd seen another guy's cock in a long, long time, and it was HARD like mine! I had to touch it, feel it; I wanted to know what it was like.
His dick was different from mine in almost every way. Mine had a distinct bend to it; his was straight and firm, like an arrow pointing up at his navel, perfectly parallel to his tummy. Mine curved out with a strong "C" shape that bent it out in front of me where it hung under its own weight.
He was circumcised and only about three-or-four inches long but thick, fully mature and developed.
As I continued feeling his shaft he went ahead and put his fingers inside my underwear, then slid them down until my own, twelve-year-old dick sprung out at him.
I was about five-to-six inches then, bigger than he was by quite a bit.
"...nice..." he whispered softly.
He immediately began stroking me, something I'd never experienced before, and I began rubbing his the same way he was rubbing mine. I had never jerked off and knew nothing of masturbation yet; I just loved how it felt as he moved his hand up and down the curve of my cock.
He continued his story, and as it felt funny to stand with our pants down around our knees, we both sat down in these little kid chairs that I had in my tree house then. We kept touching and rubbing our dicks as he continued his story, saying whatever he wanted us to do next as part of what had "happened" to him in the bathroom.
Finally, he told me to stand up and turn around so he could show me what happened next. I did, without question, my dick bobbing up and down like a rubbery toy in the moonlight. He stood too, raised his shirt so he was fully exposed along the front, then put an arm around me and pulled me back against him.
His chest and stomach felt warm and furry, in a nice way, against my back. I felt his hands softly begin to caress my bottom, rubbing my smooth, boyish cheeks oh so gently and sensually. It felt nice and I liked it, but I was even happier when he returned to stroking my dick, which for some reason felt especially good to me.
From behind I felt him slip his cock between my legs and he started making gentle, regular thrusting motions against the friction of my inner thighs. From behind he wrapped his left arm around my chest and began to gently stroke my nipples as he hugged me firmly back to him. With his right hand he continued to slowly pump my cock with the same gentle rhythm he was using to push his own dick back and forth between my legs.
I was totally lost in the sensations of it all. I felt my back pressed against his furry body and his thrusting hips put his pubes against my bottom.
All pretense of a story was finally forgotten now. As he stroked me commented on the size and curve of my dick, which I'm sure he mean well but which actually embarrassed me again. But I didn't care about anything except what I was feeling right then as he continued to thrust between my legs and jerk my boyish cock without pausing.
He nuzzled at my ear from behind, then very softly whispered, "How long does it usually take you to cum?"
The truth is, I had no idea *WHAT* he was talking about! The words were totally new, and utterly meaningless to me. I didn't know what he meant and more than that, I didn't care! I was feeling new sensations I'd never felt before building inside me and couldn't think of anything else.
I answered breathlessly, whimpering, "I.... don't know... just.... don't... stop..."
At least he didn't laugh.
He kept this up, the thrusting, the nipples, the jerking off... and I remember him holding me tighter, thrusting deeper, more firmly, until I suddenly felt the head of his cock touching the back of my balls with each forward push. When I felt that, the sensation of another dick against my own nuts, THAT is what finally put me over the top.
I felt a new sensation welling up inside me as my dick started twitching in his hand and my balls pulled up in a indescribable ache.
"I... I... gotta pee!" I said, my body not knowing how else to interpret the new sensation it was feeling, the feeling of something coming into my dick from inside.
"Let it come," he whispered in my ear as he continued to hold me close and rub his hands over my body. And I did!
I felt an explosion of ecstasy radiate out from my whole groin area. The sensation was intense and unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I shook and quivered.
Hot boy cum exploded from my dick into the darkness of my tree house and I had no idea what it was or where it was going. Maybe I thought I was peeing, in spurts, or maybe I didn't think at all, I was so mind numbed by the sensations I was feeling. In the dark I couldn't see it, I don't know what I thought, but I knew I couldn't stop myself... nor did I want to.
My boyish cock twitched and pumped in the warmth of his fingering palm, totally under his control. I came and came for what seemed like a very long time, shooting in the dark to unknown distances, firing off load after load of virgin boy juice as he continued to fondle and pump me.
At last, slowly, the mind consuming sensations began to gradually ebb away, fading back into a wonderfully delightful afterglow. It was my first time, and it had been a moment of really powerful sexual pleasure that I would never forget.
Now I know there are some who'd say I was molested, and I guess, by definition, that's true. But I never have felt that way. I always felt that I had it in my control to leave, if I had wanted to. But I didn't want to. Of course, maybe that's the point. What boy, at that age, has the strength of will to resist his own sexual urges? Most adults even have trouble doing that. Perhaps that's why it's so easy for molesters to take advantage of kids who don't really want to be doing this.
But I did really want to be doing it. Clearly, I did. I made that conscious choice. I had been looking for it and I found what I wanted, something I needed and couldn't get elsewhere -- shared, intimate, physical contact. To this day I do not feel I was forced or taken advantage of. Others can argue this, but I was there, I was the boy, and I know what my thoughts were, then, and now. I was willing the whole time he was doing it. I wanted him to do it, knew where he was going and invited him in. I got what I wanted, and more.
But as a boy, I had no way to know about the feelings that follow sex.
As the sexual pleasure faded, a new, equally intense feeling took it's place -- a feeling of guilt!
What had I done!? What was I doing? Oh my god, what's WRONG WITH ME!!!???
As willing as I had been, suddenly I just felt this must be bad!
Something inside told me this wasn't the same as the innocent games I'd played before. This was something different, something more. This was REAL sex, and I knew that was something kids were not supposed to do!
As adults I think we all understand those post-orgasm feelings. They really have nothing to do with the reality of right or wrong in what we did so much as with a desire to retreat, sexually, once you've come. Women can, and do, come repeatedly, but most males fire our load and then we just wanna be outta there. I had never come before; I had no idea that these feelings were based on that post-coital desire to retreat. I just knew that I felt I'd done something really wrong, that I wanted to get away. Like Adam after taking a bite of that first apple, for the first time, I had the sense that I was naked.
I guess I had become a man.
"I gotta go!" was all I said to Billy as I quickly pulled up my shorts and fled my tree house in shame.
I ran into the house and went to the bathroom where I made a pee for real. I'd suddenly been overcome with a strong desire to piss after I finally lost my hard on. I caught my breath and tried to decide how I felt about what had happened. I was a very confused boy.
A few moments later I went out and joined my sister and her girl friend on the back porch. I acted like nothing at all had happened. Billy came in a bit later; I assume now he stayed up there to take care of his own needs after I left him so rudely.
I didn't tell, of course, and the guilt soon passed. When it did, I actually found I wanted more. I wanted to get time alone with Billy again.
Strangely, at this point, I still didn't realize this was something I could do myself! I thought it had somehow been connected with his cock between my legs poking at my balls and I didn't know people could do this by themselves. I think he assumed I already knew about jerking off.
Billy was a somewhat effeminate boy. He had been accused of being gay in the past, but his girlfriend insisted he wasn't. In fact, she actually had gotten pregnant by him and eventually gave birth to a son. I liked playing with Billy, but even at age twelve I was conscious of the fact that he was, perhaps, a bit gay, and this troubled me a little. I didn't understand it, but I found it unsettling.
Lust, however, overcomes many things, and I continued to want to play around with him at every opportunity.
He came over several more times and on each occasion we'd find a way to do something. I learned something new every visit but when it came to sexual activity between us, I was always the instigator.
The next time he came over we snuck out into the back yard again, this time finding a place in the dark behind the shed. As we played with our dicks he made a casual sounding comment about how "It'd be nice if we could get 'em wet."
I didn't know what he meant, really. I just shrugged and said "Yeah, but there's no water so what are you gonna do?"
"We could do this," he said, then leaned down and took my dick in his mouth.
I gasp! I couldn't believe a guy would put another guys dick in his mouth! I mean, guys pee with those things! That was gross! But as he began sucking on my boyhood I quickly began to enjoy the sensation. I could see the point of it, for me at least. I still couldn't see what HE was getting out of it. It was my first blowjob, although I didn't know then what it was called. He only did it a while and I didn't come that way. I came by the usual method of him putting his dick between my legs and jerking me off. In fact, for the longest time, I thought it was essential for you to have someone else's dick between your legs in order to come. I thought sex always required two people and still didn't know you could do it alone.
Another visit came around Halloween. He needed a room to change into his costume and I offered my bedroom. Once there I leaned against the door to keep someone from coming in (there was no lock on the door) and was disappointed that, after he got down to his underwear, he just started to get dressed in his costume. I wanted to see him naked! I wanted to see his dick!
I asked him if he felt like "goofing off," (his term for what we did). He said he didn't know if I wanted too and didn't know if it was safe here. I'm sure it WASN'T safe, but I was more horny than reasonable (remember, I still didn't know how to relieve myself without him yet!). Even though I was twelve I reached up and took his dick in my hand through his underwear and I started to play with it. He soon took his underwear down, as did I, and we were both rubbing them for a bit, then he dropped down and sucked on mine for a minute. We finally both came jerking each other off with him behind me in the same way as always, only this time he came on my nuts! I was so horny I didn't care. I wiped it off in the bathroom afterward, but it was the first time I'd actually seen and felt another guy's cum.
By far one of the most memorable times was in the shower at the local community pool.
We all went swimming, my sister, her friend, Billy and I. This time Billy was the one in a mood and even in the pool, he couldn't keep his hands off me. At one point he had me stand in the corner of the pool as he went under the water and played with my dick through my swim suit, feeling my hardon, stroking it, and even putting his mouth on it underwater. I was so conscious of all the people there. We were totally out in the open and there were dozens and dozens of people of all ages around while I was having my dick played with just below the surface. No one seemed to notice.
Finally he suggested we go someplace and I was okay with that, my mind was on something besides swimming. He told my sister we were going home… he'd drive me.
We got out of the pool and ran for the locker room. I was very conscious of my hardon in my swim trunks as I made my way.
I had used this locker room all my life but, like most boys, I had never gotten naked to shower there. But Billy did, stripped bare and stepped into the water without any embarrassment at all, so naturally, I did the same.
Now we were alone. No one else was there, and soon he and I were rubbing soap on our hard, naked cocks. It was fun! I was openly giggling as we did. It felt great and I was really enjoying it. Whenever we'd hear someone coming, which was seldom, we'd turn away from one another and face the showers on opposite sides from one another.
We were enjoying ourselves just a bit too much when one of the lifeguards came by and saw us. I immediately turned away, to my side, but I know he saw us and thought for sure we were busted. Instead the guy just stopped and leaned in, smiling from ear to ear, and he struck up a conversation.
"How's it goin', guys?" he said, smiling.
"Okay," Billy and I answered nervously.
He visibly looked down at our hard dicks. "Having a good time here?" he grinned.
I thought maybe he hadn't noticed us before, (and wasn't noticing we both had hardons!) but I realized now he was very aware of our situation.
What I didn't recognize then was that he KNEW what we were doing all right, but wasn't looking to bust us. I think, looking back now, that he really wanted to JOIN US! Either that or he was having some fun with us while enjoying the view. Imagine being an adult and seeing a twelve-year-old boy, along with a seventeen-year-old boy, naked, in a shower, both with hardons, and no one else around. He was smiling for a reason.
He made small talk for a little bit longer, then after several moments said something like, "try not to use up all the hot water, okay?" then winked at us, and left.
I was relieved and ready to go back to playing, but Billy suggested we'd best leave, so we got dressed and went out to his car. We "goofed off" some more while sitting in his car, in the parking lot, before finally heading home.
Each time we played we did a little more and I could write a story about each time as there was always a new "first" in every experience. Eventually I learned how to jerk off on my own, but however I came, I always felt that same guilty feeling afterward.
And that is what finally brought things to an end between Billy and I.
I was always a little unsettled about how effeminate he was, and one afternoon I had just jerked off when Billy came by our house. In the past he had always come by on the pretense of seeing my sister, but now he had broken up with his girlfriend and she said she didn't want to see him, so I went to the front door.
"My sister's not here," I told him.
"I didn't come to see her. I came to see you." he said.
It was the first time he openly admitted to coming to see me. For some reason, that unsettled me. If only his timing had been better! I had just come, I was in my"guilt" mood. I didn't want to see him right then!
In a statement I will long regret, I told him I didn't think we should be doing stuff and I didn't want to see him anymore.
I closed the door and went inside, but I watched from the window as he went to his car, without a word, and drove off. I never saw Billy again.
I hate myself for that now.
Long after that day I would jerk off to fantasies about him and me doing stuff. I used to imagine he and I spending a weekend together in a cabin somewhere, totally alone, and we'd do all kinds of fun stuff, shower together, play around, "goof off" in bed, and more, without having to worry about getting caught. Of course, it was just a fantasy.
In real life, I don't know what became of him. I never knew his last name and my sister, who knows nothing about all this, doesn't recall it either. As a result I have never been able to trace him down.
If you're out there Billy, and you recognize yourself from this story, please write me. I'm sorry if I hurt you. In any case, wherever you are, thanks for the fond memories and I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to you. Right or wrong, I really DID enjoyed what you did with me.
You introduced me to a whole new world.
The End