Date: Thu, 8 Jan 2009 12:35:47 -0800 (PST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Life Is What You Make It. Part 1 of 3

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between young teenage men. If
this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it
morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!!

The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person
or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish!

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk

(Please note change of address from earlier stories)

************************************************

Part 1 of 3

Life is What You Make It t/t

by

Alexander

School is out. For good. I am sixteen years old and have left school,
waiting to start college in eight weeks. Two months in which to sort myself
out. My problem is that I like boys, or more precisely boys and men. The
female of the species have no attraction for me at all. In fact I am rather
scared of them because they don't think like me, or any of the boys I know.

I have had the attraction for males ever since I was aware that there was a
difference. Physical that is, as well as mental. At the age of ten.

Watching boys getting changed always gives me a thrill. Comparing their
heights, hair colour and faces is where I start. Their bodies, skin colour
and texture. Muscles, cuts, bruises and scars.

Penises, testicles. I turn to the wall, hiding my excitement, dressing
quickly and efficiently. I am afraid of what they will say and do if they
see what effect their naked body has on me.

I play soccer. I make sure I am good at it so that I can stay in the team
and watch them as they dress and undress. Furtively I observe their hands
caressing their bodies as they stand in the shower, rivulets of soapy water
running down their smooth bodies. Stare a little more attentively as they
carefully attend to their crotches, fingers toying with their penises for
just a few seconds - not too much though in case they enjoy it. Gaze a
little more overtly as they wash their hair vigorously, eyes tightly
closed, penises and testicles dancing around invitingly. Finally witnessing
them dry themselves, taking the chance to examine their manhoods more
carefully as their heads are covered by the towels. Then dressing myself
hurriedly to secrete my hardness lest it be seen.

Off the pitch, I keep my head down. No close friends, no one to visit, no
one to invite home. It's safer that way. I wear my glasses constantly,
without any need. Another barrier.

I've seen boys feel each other. I've seen boys masturbate, alone and in
pairs. I've even been invited to join in, but turn away, disgusted. Not
with them, with me for not having the courage to do what I know isn't
wrong.

So. I have given myself two months to make my mind up. A two-month bridge
between a nervous schoolboy and confident student. A bridge between
innocence and maturity.

I spend most of my days wandering around town. 25 000 people. Three
parks. Shopping mall.

Railway station and so on. And seven public toilets, all of which I know
and have used. But only of course for their intended purpose. Others use
them for their own pleasures as I can read on any of the walls. Jealous?
Yes, of course. Afraid? Terrified.

There are five points of reference in my solitary perambulations: the
library, the bookstore, the music store, the corner café and the parks.

The library to look at the art books. I am good at painting and would
dearly love to be one. The bookstore to buy paperback copies of
award-winning improving books. The music store to listen to and perhaps buy
a CD that suits my mood. The café because it is opposite the bus and train
stations and I can indulge my secret vice of people watching. Males that
is. Only those enter my consciousness. Females flit by unheeded and
unnoticed. The parks because I can be alone and read my books and watch the
comings and goings in the toilets enviously.

It's taken me a week, but I have worked out what sort of men I like. Or at
least think I like. Men of about 30 or 35. Clean shaven and
well-dressed. And hopefully intelligent. Boys about a year or so older than
me. Dress immaterial as long as they are clean and tidy. Intelligence?
Don't care as long as they aren't thugs, druggies or thieves.

Tuesday, second week. I am in the bookshop sat on the big leather settee
browsing through a selection of paperbacks I have picked up. They are a
mixture of classic fiction, new books and a few gay novels written by
authors I was familiar with. There was no trouble taking this sort of book
home as my parents had never thought of censoring my reading. I selected
"Now and Then" by William Corlett: a bit on the dated side, but it looked
OK.

Clasping the book, I made my way to the nearest park to start reading it. I
had by now chosen a place near the Gents toilets. A discrete distance away,
either on the bench if it was free, or under a tree if it wasn't. From
either spot I could watch the entrances and exits of the users, keeping
track of how many were inside. I had become an expert on how the toilets
were used. Two minutes or less for a piss, five minutes or so for a
crap. Ten minutes or more and they were neither urinating nor
defecating. Neither were those men who used the facilities every fifteen
minutes or so. I soon got to know the regular habitues, none of whom
attracted me, despite the occasional semi- desperate 'come hither' look I
was graced with. Apart from one. He could be anywhere between17 and 20,
reasonably smart and walked with a swagger that was obviously staged. It
was his face that attracted me the most. He was good looking. Not beautiful
or handsome, just good looking. Even my unconscious cock woke up when he
appeared. I sat on the grass and waited.

It took about twenty minutes for him to turn up. Giving me no more than a
cursory glance, he disappeared into the toilets. I knew that there was no
one in there; he waited ten minutes before emerging and going for a brisk
walk around the park. On his return, he looked at me for a little longer,
but still no acknowledgement of my presence.

I knew the toilets were still empty. With all my heart I wished I had the
courage to follow and get him to at least look at me. Even a simple nod of
the head would have done. A spoken 'Hi!' or 'Hello!' would have sent me
into orbit. My mind wanted this, but my brain didn't. No matter how much I
tried, I just couldn't persuade my body to stand up and take that short
walk. Slamming my book down on the grass in a fit of temper, I gave myself
a mental bollocking for being so weak.

On his second circuit, my heart missed a beat as he diverted from his path
and walked towards me.

Shit! Now what do I do? Just a few minutes ago, my legs wouldn't carry me
fifty metres; now they wanted to take me away from here as fast and as far
as they could. Before my brain could sort itself out, a voice from above
spoke.

"Hi!" it said. "Don't I know you?"

Innocent as I was, I recognised a time-worn come-on cliché when I heard
one and I was a bit disappointed at his lack of imagination.

"Sorry?" I stumbled out. "I don't think so."

Shit! What a lame-brain reply, almost as bad as his opener.

"Yes, I do. You use the café near the station most mornings. Tea and
toast."

"Sorry," I said again, realising who he was. "I didn't recognise you."

He sat down next to me. Close, but not familiarly close.

"No reason why you should. I work behind the counter cooking up the junk,"
he laughed. "I wear kitchen whites and a silly hat."

"Oh!" I said.

His voice fitted his face perfectly if you see what I mean. Not deep, not
light. That sort of voice you get between adolescence and manhood. My dick
rose to full hardness at his close proximity and lovely voice. I raised my
knees to hide it, not daring to look down in case it was visible.

"I'm Philip," I managed to say. There was no need to shake hands - he
wasn't the type that went in for that sort of thing, I could tell.

"I'm Andrew," he replied. "Bacon to my friends."

"Bacon?" I queried.

"Yeah. 'Cause that's what people are always yelling at me in the kitchen!"

We laughed together briefly.

"Any luck today?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the toilets.

"N-nn-no," I stammered out, blushing to the roots of my hair. "I haven't
been in there. Haven't tried."

"Oh. Sorry. I just thought with your sitting here watching, and the way you
look at the men in the café that you were ...... well, you know."

I blushed even deeper if that were possible and stared at the ground. I'd
been recognised by someone I wasn't even aware existed, and he'd also
worked out what sort of person I was. Or wanted to be.

"Hey, listen," Andrew said, "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you. I didn't
mean to. It's just that you're good-looking. I can't help watching you in
the café and when I saw you here as well, I thought it was Christmas!"

I smiled wryly at this and turned to face him. "I've never, err, never done
anything like this before."

"But you'd like to? Right?" he whispered.

I nodded very slightly, this time keeping eye contact.

"Shit!" he mouthed in mock astonishment. "What? Not even at school?"

I shook my head. "I've always wanted to," I stumbled on, "But I've always
been too nervous, and now that I've left school I thought I'd do something
about it. Just to see, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," Andrew replied. "I was the same when I was
your age. I did get a bit at school though," he laughed. "But since then
I've hardly done anything except for a few wanks and BJ's in places like
that."

"That's more than I have," I giggled nervously.

There was a pause before Andrew went on, "Listen, I've never done anything
like this before and I'm not sure I should be doing it now, but how would
you like to come to my place tomorrow after I finish work? No promises, no
commitments, just a cup of coffee and see what happens. If it doesn't work
out, we can part friends and no problems. It'd be better than that stinking
place anyway. And safer!"

It didn't take more than a second to make my mind up. So far I liked
Andrew, and the chances of my finding anyone else like him were remote to
say the least. In any case, he already knew more about me than anyone else
in the world did and if I was to find anything worthwhile out about myself,
I had to start somewhere.

"OK. I think I'd like that." I whispered.

"Brill!" Beamed Andrew. "I finish at two o'clock. If you're there,
fantastic. If not, then no hard feelings either. But don't stop coming in
the café though whatever happens, you make my day when I see you."

And that was it. My first real date! We chatted about odds and ends for a
while, but then I had to leave if I was to get home before my parents did.

It had been a confusing sort of day, and as I headed homewards I tried to
put my thoughts in order regarding Andrew. He my parents would definitely
disapprove of. Wrong social class (they were heavily into that), wrong job
(manual labour) and ill-educated. Even his age was against him, a two- year
gap they would accept maybe, but no more than that. Andrew, I was sure must
be at least 19, if not older. Still, we liked each other so far, and it
wasn't his intellectual abilities that attracted me to him either!

All in all it was a satisfying day I decided. They only thing I had to do
was to persuade my erection to go down before my parents got home. And that
I could take care of easily.

I dressed with unusual care the following morning, needing to make myself
presentable. Boxers, not briefs: erections are easier to hide. Beige
chinos. Sports shirt and zip-up jacket. No spectacles. For me this was a
major change, I was acutely aware of removing a barrier between myself and
the world, a world I wanted to be part of. They were in my pocket though,
just in case.

I went to the café as usual when I got into town, but entered with some
trepidation. I wasn't completely sure that I wanted to see Andrew
again. One half of me said that I shouldn't even be thinking of getting
involved in anything as sordid as gay sex, especially with a stranger: the
other half told me that unless I did, I would never find out for sure which
side of the fence I was on. Andrew game me a big smile and wave as I sat
down and I waved back. There was nothing about him that marked him out as
freak, an oddity, a gay man in a straight world. He looked quite normal in
fact.

No different to look at than anyone else. And yet there was something about
him that I found fascinating, and despite my earlier misgivings decided
that I would go ahead and meet him later.

In the meanwhile, I killed time by visiting the book shop and library as
normal, but not unexpectedly found that I couldn't settle down either to
read or explore the bookshop. Even the art gallery held nothing to interest
me today, and so I walked about town until the time came to meet Andrew. As
I made my way back to the café, I thought about what the next hour or so
would bring. In fact I was looking forward to it as the time approached two
o'clock, and my cock had hardened a little in anticipation.

And there he was, bang on time and grinning at me as he left the
café. Indicating that I should follow him, I tagged along behind until we
rounded the corner, uncomfortably aware that every pair of eyes in the
street were watching me, knowing what I was doing, where I was going and
what I was going to do when I got there.

"I've got a bedsit round the corner," he said as I caught up with him
"Still up for it?"

I nodded, feeling incredibly nervous. What we spoke about on our way to his
home I have absolutely no idea, my mind was reeling with fright at the
situation I had got myself into. 'Run' my brain said, 'clear off', 'make
yourself scarce'. 'Hang on', my mind said, It'll be OK', This's what you
want'.

My knowledge of bedsits, gained from the TV and movies, was that they were
dark, dismal and depressing. To my astonishment, Andrew's was clean, bright
and cheerful. He had two small rooms in fact, a tiny kitchen/dining area
and a larger bedroom/living room, the single bed being partly disguised by
a brightly coloured throw spread over it. The furniture, whilst cheap, was
all new.

"Make yourself at home," Andrew said. "I'm going to have a shower. Back
soon."

With that he picked up a towel and sponge bag and left the room, heading to
what was evidently a communal bathroom.

Wherever I looked in the room, my eyes kept being dragged back to the
bed. It had taken on a significance out of all proportion to its size in my
mind. What pleasures did it promise? What desires would it fulfil or deny?
Turning my back on it, I gazed around me. On the table were a few books -
all about cooking and catering; on the walls a few chain-store prints and
in the corner a plastic tub for dirty clothes. Still keeping my back to the
bed, I picked up a book and flicked through it idly.

"Still here then?" Andrew grinned as he came in the door, dressed in
joggers and shirtless. "Want a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

I watched him as he pottered about the kitchenette, staring at his smooth
back and chest, noting at the same time that beneath his joggers he
couldn't have any underwear on. My hitherto softened dick began to come to
life, reminding me why I was here. I was still nervous, but much less
so. I'd made my mind up that I would go through with it and see what
happened, after all, what harm could it do? If I didn't like it, I could
leave and never see him again. And if I liked it? My cock hardened a bit
more.

Andrew put the two steaming cups on the table and sat on the only other
place available, the bed.

"Come over here," he said quietly, patting the bed. "Sit here."

I moved across the room and did as I was asked.

"Is it really your first time?" he asked, looking at me.

I nodded. "Have you done it a lot?" I asked, stupidly. Why did I want to
know that? Was it important?

"A few times at school. Once or twice since then, but not a lot."

"What about the toilets? I thought it happened in there a lot."

"Probably does," Andrew relied, "But to be honest, I've never done anything
in them. The people that go there are too old, too dirty or want to do
things I don't."

We chatted for a few more minutes but then fell into an awkward
silence. Both of us knew what was at the forefront of our minds, but
neither was going to be the first to mention it. Andrew, it dawned on me,
was just as nervous as I. But then, I rationalised, he is older than me,
more experienced than me, and this is his home. He should make the first
move.

As if he'd read my thoughts, he put an arm around my shoulders and a hand
on my knee. I jumped at the sudden intimate contact and then forced myself
to relax.

"Do you want to?" he whispered, sliding his hand up the inside of my thigh.

The exciting tingle spreading out from my groin, the nervous, warm glow
suffusing my body told me 'yes!' My hidden erection, and his obvious one,
confirmed it. There was no going back now.

"Yes." I whispered, staring at the hand inches away from my aching cock.

"Good." he replied. "That makes two of us. Just the right number!"

He leaned towards me and for one terrifying moment I thought he was going
to try and kiss me or something, but instead he gently pushed me back on
the bed.

My mind was in free-fall. For years I'd wanted this to happen, dreamed
about it, jerked off to it and wanted it so badly it hurt. Now here I was,
laid out on a bed with a stranger: a good-looking, half-naked stranger with
his hand approaching my virginal cock and I hadn't a clue what to do. My
arms lay frozen by my side, my eyes staring at his hairless chest.

Then his hand found my prick. Through my trousers and boxers, he gently
felt its rigid hardness. I gasped audibly and held my breath, eyes wide
open and heart racing. Whatever doubts I'd had before vanished
instantly. This was good. This was right. This was what I'd always needed.

Andrew slipped an arm under my neck and slid up the bed so our groins were
at the same level.

Gently, he felt all around my sweating tool and balls, making me moan
loudly.

"Can I take it out?" he said quietly.

"Yes," I sighed.

The few seconds it took for him to loosen my trousers and slide his hand
into my boxers seemed to take forever. When his fingers grasped my prick
and worked it out through my flies, I almost passed out. I'd never, ever,
felt anything like it. Looking down at myself, all I saw was a hugely erect
penis, slick with pre-cum, held delicately in a man's hand. The iron-hard
dick didn't seem to be part of me, and yet it also seemed to be all of
me. Every fibre of my body was centred there, every sense overloaded, and
yet I wanted more.

Desperately, I lifted my hips up off the bed and thrust my clothes down to
my ankles, giving him free access to all of me. Willingly and lustfully.

His fingers explored my prick and balls exquisitely, every move sending
shivers of fire through my body. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as
I stifled a scream.

Then it happened. With a frenzied thrust, I arched my back, forced my cock
into his hand, and ejaculated. Massively, magnificently and ecstatically
painfully, each shot convulsing me wildly.

"Christ!" I moaned once I'd regained consciousness, still not believing how
mind-blowing it was.

"I think you needed that!" Andrew laughed, as he wiped my spunk from his
fingers. "Did you like it?"

I then did something I'd only dreamed of before, I threw my arms around him
and hugged tightly, letting tears flow freely.

" 'S OK," he whispered in my ear. "It gets us all like that sometimes."

Wiping the tears away with the back of my hand, I grinned sheepishly at
Andrew, flustered at the rapidity with which things had happened and the
tears I'd shed.

Normally, after a wank, I get depressed for a few minutes, but this time,
despite the intensity of it, I didn't. In fact my dick hadn't even gone
down, not all the way anyhow.

"Can I do you now?" I asked.

"No need," he laughed. "Look!"

He pushed his joggers down to his knees and nodded at his crotch. His
semi-hard dick rested in a glistening pool of cum, matting his light brown
pubic hairs together.

"And that's without touching it!" he giggled. "Must be the effect you have
on me."

His was the first adult man-sized cock I'd seen close up. Experimentally I
ran my fingers through his hairs and around his penis, staring, fascinated
as it rose to its full glory again. His hairs, like the ones on his head
were fair, almost blond, and they even grew slightly on his balls. The
whole package looked beautiful. Exciting. Wonderful.

For the first time, I consciously and lucidly, knew what I was. I'd seen
between a girl's legs once when I was about eight years old and even then
thought how lucky I was to have my appendages.

Now it was confirmed.

Andrew let me fondle and examine him minutely, my fingers dancing lightly
around his crotch, my brain absorbing every last detail of his pride and
joy. I also enjoyed his caressing me, one hand containing my tender
erection, the other toying with my balls.

We both came again of course, but nowhere near as strongly as before, and
not as passionately either, but it satisfied us both and cemented our new
relationship.

It was in a dangerously euphoric mood that I made my way home some little
time later, but not before we'd exchanged mobile numbers. I could have
stayed longer of course, but it was essential that today, of all days, I
got home before my parents. For one thing I needed a shower to lose the
smell of sex from my body, and for another to rid my shirt of the tell-tale
white spots which trailed down from my neck to my crotch. 'Next time', I
reminded myself, 'I must take my shirt off first!'.

In fact I didn't see Andrew for three days. On the first day, mum needed me
to stay home and help move some furniture around. The second day, dad was
going to London on business and invited me along for the ride. To be
honest, I was a bit pissed off at the intrusion into my plans, but on the
other hand, I was grateful for the amount of freedom they allowed me at
other times, and I liked going out with dad, in fact they were the only
times we could be together without mum. He'd even started to buy me a few
drinks in the pub once in a while. Andrew and I kept in touch by texting,
messages I had to delete immediately they'd been read as they were getting
dangerously suggestive.

As I made my way into town on the third day, I made my mind up that I
shouldn't try to see Andrew every day as things would probably get boring
if we saw each other too much, and in any case I wasn't sure if my nobody
could take it every day!

We'd agreed, amid our texting frenzy, that I would go straight to his
bedsit for about half past two.

That would give him time to freshen up and have a tidy-round. The door was
open when I got there, and two cups of coffee were waiting on the table.

"Saw you coming down the road," he explained. "I wasn't sure if you'd come
or not." he added.

In reply, I walked into his arms and hugged him.

"Of course I'd come," I said, ignoring the double entendre.

I slipped my hands under his T-shirt and we embraced lightly, swaying
gently as if dancing to a silent melody. It felt good. Being held by
someone seemed to shut the rest of the world out, our bodies sharing the
same space; heat and desire uniting us. I could feel his erection pressing
against mine: just a few days ago, I would have laughed if anyone had told
me that I could have this effect on anyone. That I always got hard at the
sight of naked male bodies was irrelevant - just a sort of glitch in my
make-up. Men got hard for girls: that was normal, desirable and
right. Getting hard for other men was abnormal, undesirable and yet still
as far as I was concerned. I couldn't help it, and neither could people
like Andrew. What you can't change, you live with.

"Wanna get undressed?" Andrew whispered.

As if in a trance, I unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall to the floor. I
kicked off my trainers and pulled my socks off. Putting my hands on my
belt, I glanced up at Andrew; he was wearing just his jeans by now and was
watching me intently. Together we slid our trousers and underwear off and
stepped out of them, facing each other, naked, vulnerable and obscenely
erect.

Unashamedly, we examined each other from head to toe. If I'd fulfilled a
desire to do this at school and done this in the changing room, I would
without doubt been beaten to a pulp and labelled forever as a queer. Now it
was OK. Demanded in fact, to confirm our craving for each other.

Andrew was about my height, lissom and unmarked. His short golden brown
hair glistened in the sunlight, a loose curl straying over his soft grey
eyes. Below his navel, a thin line of hair flowed down like an arrow,
pointing the way to a bunch of curls surrounding his superb prick. Only
just a little bigger than my pride and joy, it was five inches of
uncircumcised splendour surmounting a pair of heavy, pendulous testicles,
covered in fine hair. They were larger than mine, but matched his body
perfectly.

Mentally, I tried to picture what he saw. Black medium length hair,
unmanageable unless it was gelled down. Hairless body apart from a dense
moustache-like growth above my dick; my genital hair had yet to develop
fully, which was a cause of embarrassment to me sometimes. I knew boys two
years younger than me who had a better looking bush. My balls were half the
size of Andrews and held tighter into my groin than his, but I knew they
worked and was happy with that. My legs were muscular because of all the
soccer I played, my arms less so.

I was content with my body apart from the lack of pubes, and awaited
Andrew's verdict with interest.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "Really, really nice."

Still unused to commenting on the beauty or otherwise of male bodies, I
lamely replied, "You too." I hoped my erection told him what I really
thought.

Andrew took a step backwards and in one smooth move lifted up the duvet and
slid down into bed, holding it up for me to join him.

A few days ago when I'd had sex for the first time, it was frenzied and
passion-driven, over before it had begun. Now it was less frantic but still
intense. My nerves were as tight as a bow-string as I slid alongside him in
the single bed, putting my arms around his waist to hold us together.

The feeling of skin against skin was electric. I gasped as I felt his heat
burning its way into me, from my chest to my thighs, our cocks throbbing
alongside each other. It took an immense amount of will power to stop
myself from bucking into Andrew, I knew that once started I wouldn't be
able to stop until I came, which wouldn't be long.

"Take it easy," I whispered to Andrew. "I'm almost there."

Andrew giggled and stroked my hair, looking deep into my eyes.

"Deep breaths," he murmured. "Take some deep breaths until you calm down a
bit."

Amazingly, it worked. After a few minutes my heart had slowed down and I
could breath normally.

The desperate urge to orgasm had also faded much to my relief and I
hesitantly slid my hand between us and searched for his dick. Once found I
took it under my fingers and held it gently, absorbing its warmth and
testing its hardness.

I felt Andrew rest his hand in my groin, but instead of holding my dick, he
cupped my balls in his palm and massaged them magically. He had sensed I
was on a very short fuse and wisely kept well away from my tool. Copying
him, I felt the weight and texture of him, rolling his eggs around softly.

Replacing my hand on his cock, I began to jack him off slowly.

"Stop!" he moaned, grasping my hand to emphasise his point. "I'm too
close."

Reluctantly pulled my hand away and rested it on his hip.

"Lay back and relax," he smile. "Let me do all the work."

I did as I was asked and stretched out in his bed, Andrew laying on his
side, head resting on a crooked arm. Suddenly I sensed a hand on my chest,
fingers tracing little circles. Slowly he moved across to a nipple and
started to play with it. To my utter amazement, it stood up solidly and the
whole area became intensely sensitive. After the initial gasp of
astonishment, I started to moan with ecstasy, thrashing around from side to
side in pure bliss. Once I thought I'd got used to it, he changed sides and
repeated his ministrations.

In my naivety, I'd always assumed the centre of my sex lay in the
groin. Andrew soon disillusioned me of that. His fingers, lips and tongue
roamed over my whole body, each move finding yet another magical spot to
take me to fantastic heights. Nipples, navel, thighs, all responded
incredibly to his touch. Even my ear lobes and that most intimate of
places, my butt, drove me wild when they were played with. Up 'til now I'd
satisfied myself with a feel of my dick and balls: Andrew introduced me to
a whole new world, one which I'd never have found in a million years.

Turning to face him, I let my hands explore his superb frame, doing just as
he did to me. Neither of us touched our dicks, or each other's, except in
passing from one miraculous zone to another, but they were still throbbing
with excitement and leaking pre-cum as if there was no tomorrow.

"I gotta cum," I stammered out eventually. "I'm gonna go mad if I don't!"

Andrew grinned broadly and grasped my too-long ignored cock. He waited for
me to take hold of him before we began a very slow, almost leisurely
jerk-off. Me, I would've rushed at it and brought myself off in two or
three strokes, but taking the lead from Andrew I made myself slow down.

The result was that I felt every stroke, every little movement of his hand
and instead of a headlong rush into orgasm it built up slowly, like
climbing stairs one step at a time. First the dull ache behind the balls,
then the lifting of them, and finally the spasm as the first globule is
ejected. It was painful, excruciatingly so, but once started it seemed to
go on for ever, spurt after spurt of boiling cum firing out from my
pulsating dick.

I fell on to Andrew, my head resting on his heaving chest. Dimly I was
aware that my brow was beaded with sweat, my eyes unable to focus and my
legs trembling. I'd been left with more energy after ninety minutes of hard
soccer!

"Time is it?" I asked sleepily some time later.

" 'Bout three thirty," Andrew whispered. "You awake now then?"

"Have I been asleep?" I asked dumbly.

"Only five minutes," he laughed. "Why? You gotta go?"

"Half an hour," I said, snuggling down again. "That was bloody fantastic!"

"Glad you came?" he asked, lifting my head up to look at him.

I didn't even try to work out whether he meant my coming or my
cumming. "Yeah," I smiled.

A few minutes later, Andrew slid out of bed, returning with a bowl of warm
water, soap and a flannel.

"Can't send you home smelling like a rat, can we?"

Lovingly, he washed me down, from neck to groin, allowing me to lay back
and enjoy the treatment. He paid particular attention to my prick and balls
of course, which had the inevitable effect. Surprisingly, he leaned down,
gave my shaft a quick lick and kiss on the end of it.

"Next time," he giggled enigmatically.

He helped me dress and hugged me tightly as I headed for the door. When he
looked into my eyes, I had the distinct impression, again, that he wanted
to kiss me. I wasn't ready for this and to forestall him, gave him a quick
peck on the cheek.

"See you day after tomorrow?" I whispered in his ear.

"You bet!" he growled at me sexily.

The following day, feeling like a change of scenery, I wandered down to the
sea front, part of me regretting that I hadn't arranged to see Andrew
today. I could've gone to see him at the café of course, but on
reflection, decided that things were best left as they were - too much of a
good thing and all that.

Adjusting the burgeoning erection in my trousers so it was more comfortable
and less evident, I headed for the toilets at the end of the beach.

I knew that these toilets weren't very good for people-watching as they
were too well used for that, but they did still have a few attractions,
notably the holes in the walls in strategic places which allowed you to spy
on what was happening, and occasionally get a glimpse of a nice dick or
two.

Entering the only vacant cubicle, I locked the door and sat on the bowl,
loosening my pants and pushing them down to my knees. Taking my prick in my
hand, I slowly stroked it as I checked out the holes. Nothing. The people
at the stand-up all had their backs to me, and the next cubicle was being
used by an old man who was having a crap. Idly, I scanned the graffiti on
the walls; nothing unusual there, only the normal 'meet me at seven', 'ring
this number for sex' sort of thing. My thoughts turned to Andrew and I
began to jerk myself off a bit more seriously. I paused as the next door
toilet was flushed and the old man left, to be replaced immediately by
someone else. Curious, I put my eye to the hole and tried to see who it
was.

It was a boy of about 14 who I recognised vaguely, probably from my
school. He was wearing nothing but his swimming trunks, and wasn't
interested in having a dump. Instead he was stood up, facing me with his
legs apart and his swimmers dropped to just below his balls. Unfortunately
I couldn't see his face and his dick through the same hole and I jumped
between two holes a few times, getting a good look at him. I soon settled
on the lower hole though, watching him jack off. He was almost hairless,
with a beautiful well-proportioned cock, about four inches long, rising up
from a pair of pink balls. His wanking technique was fascinating. Rather
than work his hand up and down his shaft steadily, he gave it a few frantic
rubs and then let it go for a few seconds before having another go: I guess
it was his way of making the pleasure last as long as possible. Anyway, I
held my breath as he carried on, my own hand following his, imagining that
it was him jerking me off.

Before long, the inevitable happened and we both held our breaths as he
fired out half a dozen high- powered gobs of cum, much to his satisfaction
as his moan testified. I was only a few strokes behind.

The reason for his self-abuse became clear a few minutes later as I saw him
walking along the prom, holding hands with what I assumed to be his
girlfriend. I wasn't at all surprised at myself when I ignored her
completely and satisfied myself with a good look at his groin, smiling to
myself as I knew exactly what those red trunks covered up! Glancing at the
girl, I felt just a bit envious of her as she had a much better chance of
getting to know his cock than I did, if she didn't already that is. Lucky
girl! But then I knew a little more about him than she did: if only she
knew what effect she'd had on him already!

I spent most of that evening trying to catch up on my reading. I'd bought
several gay novels recently, mostly from the second-hand bookshops which
were a good source of the older, out of print books. I'd got copies of 'The
Naked Lunch' and 'The Soft Machine' by William Burroughs, which were
supposed to be good, but I'd struggled with both of them, not really
understanding what they were about. Much more to my taste was 'The
Swimming-pool Library' by Alan Hollinghurst. This was much more to my
taste, having quite a fast pace and far more comprehensible. After a slow,
enjoyable wank, I drifted off to sleep with a collage of Andrew, the boy in
the toilet and Hollinghurst's Will Beckwith filling my mind.

The following morning it was the local college Open Day and I had to go and
find out what courses were available, and which ones I could join. I'd
almost made my mind up to enrol on a language and literature course and
needed some more information.

I was sat in the cafeteria skimming through the prospectus when I became
aware of someone joining me at the table. Glancing up, I was surprised to
see one of the boys from my year school smiling at me. Ashok (Ash to his
friends) was Indian. Like me, he was into books and art; in addition he was
easy-going and laid back. One of the few boys I felt comfortable with.

"Hi!" he grinned. "Mind if I join you?"

I soon learned that he had already enrolled for the same courses that I was
thinking of, and as we talked, I made my mind up that I would join him - at
least there would be someone I knew on the course. As we talked, I devoted
part of my mind to what I knew about him. He was a bit taller than me, but
less muscular, shiny black hair which was always perfectly groomed, and a
nice, silky- smooth, olive-coloured skin. His cock and balls were nice
too. Slightly darker in colour than the rest of him, his circumcised cock
was thinner than mine, but an inch longer and hung over a pair of
lovely-looking balls. There was very little hair on his body - in fact
there was no hair at all in his groin, he was as hairless there as the day
he was born, something that always aroused me incredibly every time I saw
it.

Half an hour later, I'd completed the forms, enrolled myself, and was
having another cup of coffee with Ash. We chatted about odds and ends for a
while and after swapping mobile numbers, went our own ways once we'd agreed
to meet up in the near future.

By the time I reached Andrew's I was feeling very pleased with myself. It
was only halfway through my holiday and I'd achieved a good part of what
I'd planned. Andrew was now an important part of my life, I'd got myself
into college and I was well on the way to finding out who I was.

I got to Andrew's bang on time. Instead of getting down to things straight
away, I was trying to be patient and take it easy. Instead of stripping
down as soon as I was in the room, we sat on his bed together for quite
some time talking of inconsequentials. I told him about the college, about
meeting Ash and about the boy in the toilets. In return, he told me about a
night out he'd had with his mates the night before, and a visit he'd made
to his parents in the afternoon.

Parents were a difficult point. Deliberately I'd not mentioned mine as they
were a problem I was avoiding.

"Do they know what you're like?" I asked Andrew.

"Yes. I think they've always known, but it was never talked about until
after I left school. Then one day mum came home early from work and found
me in bed with my best friend."

"Ohmigod!" I gasped. "What happened?"

"We didn't talk for ages, but one day my dad told me that I'd be better off
if I left home and got a flat somewhere."

"That was about two year ago," he went on, " I got this place and we didn't
see each other for about six months. Then we got together again and now
things are OK. They've said I can go back if I want to, but I don't," he
grinned. "After all, I can have friends here whenever I like!"

With that he pushed me back on the bed and started to unbutton my
shirt. Undressing each other I enjoyed, it lent an atmosphere of delicious
eroticism to the adventure, each newly unfastened button revealing a few
more inches of pink flesh to be caressed and stroked. Delicate fingers
struggling to unclip a belt and slide the zip down. Soft hands searching
for, and ultimately finding a hard, expectant prick still preserving its
modesty beneath stretched underwear. Then the final act. The heart-stopping
exposure of your body, goose-pimpled with desire, waiting with bated breath
for hands to touch that most intimate, most private part of you. The
lightening bolt of ecstasy as fingers wrap around your manhood.

Andrew and I snuggled up close, arms around our chests, legs entwined.

I was wonderfully, gloriously, euphorically happy a I nestled into Andrew,
resting my forehead against his, my face beaming with delight. I giggled as
I felt Andrew's leg rubbing against my balls, our dicks dancing together.

Suddenly we were kissing, lips pressing together. We writhed around the
bed, glued together, arms and legs desperately searching for bodily
contact, chests heaving in unison, nipples obscenely erect.

"Fuckin' 'ell!" Andrew murmured as we broke apart to regain our
breath. "That was awesome!"

I pecked him once on the lips and lay back, still grinning. "Good, wasn't
it," I said, glowing with self-satisfaction.

Taking advantage of my exposed chest, Andrew set to work on my nipples,
teasing them with his fingers and tongue until they were gloriously erect
and painfully tender. Moving down my body, he kissed and licked his way
towards my groin, each brush of his lips sending shivers down my spine.

As he reached my throbbing cock, he took hold of it at the root and turned
to look at me. The wicked grin told me exactly what he was going to do
next. My body tensed, I grasped the sheets tightly and waited.

The touch of his tongue on my super-sensitive crown was astounding and I
gripped the bedding even tighter. Slowly he absorbed my cock into his
mouth, surrounding it tightly with his lips. He began to suck, gently at
first, but then with increasing vigour. At the same time he masturbated me
tenderly, building up to a rhythm that had me squirming uncontrollably.

"Tell me when you're coming," he whispered to me before resuming the
torture.

I did. And thankfully he stopped before I deposited my seed in his mouth -
not that I objected to that, but the thought of a powerful orgasm on top of
how I felt was too much.

"Your turn," he smile as he turned round to face me, straddling across my
chest, knees in my armpits. Tentatively I leaned up and allowed his dick to
fill my mouth, wiping the shining drops of pre-cum off his crown with my
tongue as I did. Not knowing in the slightest what it would taste of, I was
delighted by the sweet, slightly acid taste of it. No stale piss, no rank
odour, just a not unpleasant flavour of skin.

Once again we soon got a steady rhythm going, me sucking avidly and him
fucking my mouth slowly and magically. It was heaven! Not as good as being
sucked by him, but knowing I was satisfying him just as much as he had me
added an extra thrill which more than made up for it.

To my disappointment, he pulled out after a while, leaving me with an
empty, frustrated feeling.

"Now for the best bit," he giggled.

With a bit of a struggle, we re-arranged ourselves so that we were
stretched out head-to-toe on the narrow bed. I was then introduced to the
sublime pleasures of 69'ing. That was much better!

We took our time delighting each other, changing positions once in a while,
taking a break to have a kiss and cuddle, to feel each other's warm body
and simply to enjoy one another. Together, we found that there is nothing
shaming or embarrassing about seeing and touching our naked bodies.

Indeed, there was something comforting and calming about holding each
other, hands roaming where they will, eyes taking in the tiniest detail,
lips meeting to confirm a connection. Even after we'd cum for the second
time, we still clung together, reluctant to lose contact even for a second.

Eventually we had to of course. Even in my post-orgasmic bliss, I realised
that I had to leave soon.

As I dressed myself, I kept staring at Andrew on the bed, naked and playing
idly with his cock.

Each item of clothing was donned reluctantly, every piece hiding a little
more of my body which we'd so joyfully shared.


End of Part 1

If you have enjoyed this, why not try some of my other stories posted on
this site?

Gary and John series
Cairo Holiday (Also in 'The Best of Nifty')
Gareth's Story
Forest House
Tom Brown's Schoolboy
etc.

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