I met a guy through a personal column, and he came over to my place one night to get acquainted. We were sitting there that night, having a drink, with the lights low, and we walked to my bedroom window. There was a guy across the lane, jacking off. Boy, was Peter surprised.
Up to that time, besides my preoccupation with solo-sex, my sexual experiences had all been with guys who went on to date girls and marry. Peter identified himself right from the beginning as being gay, and made it clear that he had never been interested in girls and never would be. He had advertised for a "male friend", and I had answered.
Peter was exactly my height, 6'2", of European extraction, and spoke with a slight accent. He had a lot of class, and I found him very attractive, although just a bit feminine in his speech and mannerisms. He was nineteen, with dark hair and striking features, and I must say I was pleased with his broad shoulders, extremely small waist and moderately large basket. He was wearing grey flannel slacks and a T-shirt, and I was wearing a T-shirt and white jeans.
To our mutual surprise, he had gone to the same high school as I did, although neither of us recalled seeing the other there. He was two years behind me and had gone to that school when his family moved to this country, while I had moved to that town when I entered the eleventh grade, so neither of us had spent our whole school life there.
We were getting to know each other as we moved to my bedroom window, but we hadn't gotten onto the subject of sex. He was startled when he saw the guy across the lane, and he looked at me. I told him about the guy seeing me jacking off, and how I'd see this guy taking care of himself. We put our drinks down and I handed him the binoculars, so he could watch the performance. I was turned on from seeing the guy across the lane, and also being so close to Peter.
When the guy stiffened, I knew he was shooting. He turned his light out, and then Peter turned away from the scene across the lane. Putting the binoculars down, Peter turned to me and put his arms around my shoulders as he kissed me and moved his groin against mine. It was one firm basket rubbing against another firm basket. He reached down and cupped and squeezed my basket through my jeans. Then he reached down into my jeans and did the same thing through my Jockey shorts.
Withdrawing his hand, he unsnapped my jeans, pulled down my zipper, and took down my jeans. I was very excited and tried to reciprocate, but he pulled away saying, "Not yet." He slid his hand into my Jockey shorts, rearranging everything so that my shaft was now vertical, the head rubbing between the shorts and his wrist. He went down and gently rolled my balls in his fingers. We managed to move together, sideways to my bed, without his ever losing his gentle grip on my now throbbing hard-on.
"Now, you can undress me," he whispered, as we snuggled and rubbed our stubble together. I peeled the T-shirt out of his pants and up his chest. As he stretched his arms over his head I could see his beautifully tapered chest with the tiny erect nipples. I pulled his T-shirt off and we hugged some more while I gently nipped his nipples and moved my tongue in the finely developed channels of his gut muscles. I flipped open his belt, and stripped his pants and shorts down, taking care to pull them off his feet. I sat up and carefully folded his pants, putting them on the dresser, turning back to see his long, thick shaft lying on his belly. But when I went to caress it, he pushed me on my back, saying again, "Not now."
He stripped my shorts off me and quickly moved his head down and onto my shaft. The initial roughness startled me, but he gently withdrew and then slowly and with tantalizing changes in focus, made love to my hard shaft, tonguing the underside of it especially well.
"Have you got anything?" he asked. In my innocence, I replied, "Like what?" He laughed and explained, "A lubricant. I'm very big and don't want to hurt you." I got my tube of K-Y and squeezed some of the slick, cool jelly on my fingers.
I was lying on my back as Peter climbed on top of me, his hands over my shoulders and his knees between my open thighs, propped up so that his very hard shaft was right above my navel. In the dim light, I felt the huge head of his cock. It was considerably greater in circumference than his shaft, and was half out of its foreskin. As I smoothed the K-Y on, I slipped his foreskin back down and was thrilled to feel the head swell even more from the constriction of the foreskin behind it.
I reached down and put the K-Y in my butt as Peter moved his knees down, asking me to put my knees up so my legs were over my head. He lay down then, his chest on the underside of my legs. "Take a deep breath and push down as if you're straining on the toilet," he whispered, as I felt his head press against my butt. The moment I followed his instructions, he pushed his groin forward and the thick head slipped right in with no pain. He told me to let my breath go and to stop pushing down, and then he sank the whole shaft in with ease.
"Now, my love, we're going to fly to the moon," he whispered as he started slow withdrawals and re-entries. Every few strokes he withdrew completely and then re-entered. It was an incredible feeling, with no pain whatsoever. My shaft was pressed down against my belly as he thrust again and again. As his pace picked up, he raised his upper body on his arms and, while now violently thrusting his hips, whispered, "Lower your legs." I did so, gingerly, until I had my legs around the back of his and he lowered his chest on mine enough so that our nipples were constantly brushing against each other as we both thrashed around on the bed.
I was overwhelmed by the marvel of his body movements. His upper body was supported on his elbows. I swept my hands around his back to his very substantial shoulders, and then down to his finely defined chest muscles, which flexed as he thrust. I tweaked his nipples as I felt them exciting my own nipples. As my hands slid lower on his tapered torso, I felt the ripple of his gut muscles, into which my stiff shaft was now stabbing. When my hands were on his buttocks, realized the sheer beauty of the perfectly synchronized, machine-like movement of his thrusts. Each was like a wave that started at his back and rolled down through the small of his back, terminating in the drive to his lower pelvis that stabbed into my butt and drove me wild.
What kept going through my mind was that Peter was so effeminate, and yet he declined any passive role in fondling or stimulation. Up to that time, my sexual experiences with guys could all be classified as "horsing around," but with Peter there was so much tenderness, kissing, hugging, and mutual movement of our bodies, that I was really feeling sexual love for him. Before that, it had only been for thrills.
He kept up the continuous, steady thrusting into me at the rate of one per second. The exquisite sensation on the underside of my shaft, rubbing up and down against the valley of his gut muscles, raised me to a pitch that made it hard for me to breathe. I groaned, threw my arms around his moving back, and pulled us together as I felt the throbs of my orgasm, followed by my jism flowing out of my shaft, flooding our pressed bellies.
Peter went on, not varying his thrust, still supporting his upper torso with his elbows as I hugged myself to his muscular torso. Our tongues were probing each other's mouths. My shaft was so sensitive now that I had cum and his gut was rubbing the sensitive skin below my head that I was shuddering all over.
Suddenly he interrupted his thrusting, withdrew the giant head of his shaft, and then slowly, gently re-entered to the hilt and stayed there. I could feel the violent throbs and jerks as he came with a sigh in my ear. Then, keeping his shaft all the way in me, he began a circular motion that was rubbing my prostate. His hairy bush was a delectable cushion for my balls. He lowered his full weight onto my body, and then moved every muscle in his body against mine. I could feel his heart pounding in his heaving chest. Our mouths were locked together in the most passionate kiss I'd ever had yet.
Up to that time, besides my preoccupation with solo-sex, my sexual experiences had all been with guys who went on to date girls and marry. Peter identified himself right from the beginning as being gay, and made it clear that he had never been interested in girls and never would be. He had advertised for a "male friend", and I had answered.
Peter was exactly my height, 6'2", of European extraction, and spoke with a slight accent. He had a lot of class, and I found him very attractive, although just a bit feminine in his speech and mannerisms. He was nineteen, with dark hair and striking features, and I must say I was pleased with his broad shoulders, extremely small waist and moderately large basket. He was wearing grey flannel slacks and a T-shirt, and I was wearing a T-shirt and white jeans.
To our mutual surprise, he had gone to the same high school as I did, although neither of us recalled seeing the other there. He was two years behind me and had gone to that school when his family moved to this country, while I had moved to that town when I entered the eleventh grade, so neither of us had spent our whole school life there.
We were getting to know each other as we moved to my bedroom window, but we hadn't gotten onto the subject of sex. He was startled when he saw the guy across the lane, and he looked at me. I told him about the guy seeing me jacking off, and how I'd see this guy taking care of himself. We put our drinks down and I handed him the binoculars, so he could watch the performance. I was turned on from seeing the guy across the lane, and also being so close to Peter.
When the guy stiffened, I knew he was shooting. He turned his light out, and then Peter turned away from the scene across the lane. Putting the binoculars down, Peter turned to me and put his arms around my shoulders as he kissed me and moved his groin against mine. It was one firm basket rubbing against another firm basket. He reached down and cupped and squeezed my basket through my jeans. Then he reached down into my jeans and did the same thing through my Jockey shorts.
Withdrawing his hand, he unsnapped my jeans, pulled down my zipper, and took down my jeans. I was very excited and tried to reciprocate, but he pulled away saying, "Not yet." He slid his hand into my Jockey shorts, rearranging everything so that my shaft was now vertical, the head rubbing between the shorts and his wrist. He went down and gently rolled my balls in his fingers. We managed to move together, sideways to my bed, without his ever losing his gentle grip on my now throbbing hard-on.
"Now, you can undress me," he whispered, as we snuggled and rubbed our stubble together. I peeled the T-shirt out of his pants and up his chest. As he stretched his arms over his head I could see his beautifully tapered chest with the tiny erect nipples. I pulled his T-shirt off and we hugged some more while I gently nipped his nipples and moved my tongue in the finely developed channels of his gut muscles. I flipped open his belt, and stripped his pants and shorts down, taking care to pull them off his feet. I sat up and carefully folded his pants, putting them on the dresser, turning back to see his long, thick shaft lying on his belly. But when I went to caress it, he pushed me on my back, saying again, "Not now."
He stripped my shorts off me and quickly moved his head down and onto my shaft. The initial roughness startled me, but he gently withdrew and then slowly and with tantalizing changes in focus, made love to my hard shaft, tonguing the underside of it especially well.
"Have you got anything?" he asked. In my innocence, I replied, "Like what?" He laughed and explained, "A lubricant. I'm very big and don't want to hurt you." I got my tube of K-Y and squeezed some of the slick, cool jelly on my fingers.
I was lying on my back as Peter climbed on top of me, his hands over my shoulders and his knees between my open thighs, propped up so that his very hard shaft was right above my navel. In the dim light, I felt the huge head of his cock. It was considerably greater in circumference than his shaft, and was half out of its foreskin. As I smoothed the K-Y on, I slipped his foreskin back down and was thrilled to feel the head swell even more from the constriction of the foreskin behind it.
I reached down and put the K-Y in my butt as Peter moved his knees down, asking me to put my knees up so my legs were over my head. He lay down then, his chest on the underside of my legs. "Take a deep breath and push down as if you're straining on the toilet," he whispered, as I felt his head press against my butt. The moment I followed his instructions, he pushed his groin forward and the thick head slipped right in with no pain. He told me to let my breath go and to stop pushing down, and then he sank the whole shaft in with ease.
"Now, my love, we're going to fly to the moon," he whispered as he started slow withdrawals and re-entries. Every few strokes he withdrew completely and then re-entered. It was an incredible feeling, with no pain whatsoever. My shaft was pressed down against my belly as he thrust again and again. As his pace picked up, he raised his upper body on his arms and, while now violently thrusting his hips, whispered, "Lower your legs." I did so, gingerly, until I had my legs around the back of his and he lowered his chest on mine enough so that our nipples were constantly brushing against each other as we both thrashed around on the bed.
I was overwhelmed by the marvel of his body movements. His upper body was supported on his elbows. I swept my hands around his back to his very substantial shoulders, and then down to his finely defined chest muscles, which flexed as he thrust. I tweaked his nipples as I felt them exciting my own nipples. As my hands slid lower on his tapered torso, I felt the ripple of his gut muscles, into which my stiff shaft was now stabbing. When my hands were on his buttocks, realized the sheer beauty of the perfectly synchronized, machine-like movement of his thrusts. Each was like a wave that started at his back and rolled down through the small of his back, terminating in the drive to his lower pelvis that stabbed into my butt and drove me wild.
What kept going through my mind was that Peter was so effeminate, and yet he declined any passive role in fondling or stimulation. Up to that time, my sexual experiences with guys could all be classified as "horsing around," but with Peter there was so much tenderness, kissing, hugging, and mutual movement of our bodies, that I was really feeling sexual love for him. Before that, it had only been for thrills.
He kept up the continuous, steady thrusting into me at the rate of one per second. The exquisite sensation on the underside of my shaft, rubbing up and down against the valley of his gut muscles, raised me to a pitch that made it hard for me to breathe. I groaned, threw my arms around his moving back, and pulled us together as I felt the throbs of my orgasm, followed by my jism flowing out of my shaft, flooding our pressed bellies.
Peter went on, not varying his thrust, still supporting his upper torso with his elbows as I hugged myself to his muscular torso. Our tongues were probing each other's mouths. My shaft was so sensitive now that I had cum and his gut was rubbing the sensitive skin below my head that I was shuddering all over.
Suddenly he interrupted his thrusting, withdrew the giant head of his shaft, and then slowly, gently re-entered to the hilt and stayed there. I could feel the violent throbs and jerks as he came with a sigh in my ear. Then, keeping his shaft all the way in me, he began a circular motion that was rubbing my prostate. His hairy bush was a delectable cushion for my balls. He lowered his full weight onto my body, and then moved every muscle in his body against mine. I could feel his heart pounding in his heaving chest. Our mouths were locked together in the most passionate kiss I'd ever had yet.
