Date: Wed, 5 Apr 2017 14:29:35 +1000
From: Joseph Hammond <jocastasbaby@gmail.com>
Subject: That Special feeling. Part 1

That special feeling Part 1


I don't know what prompted it, I'd certainly enjoyed what she did to my
prick last night but then I found myself casting my mind back...way back to
my teens.  I'd been a boarder at an English school and early on developed a
furtive relationship (well, there were two actually) with a frail looking
little fellow with huge dark eyes.  What we did together was of necessity
mostly after lights out when all had settled, this involved listening
intently at doors before stealthily entering the other's room.  Of course
having gone to so much risk and trouble we felt obliged to make our
sessions last as long as possible - in short we became expert at what we
did, I know I could bring my little friend to the point where he begged me
to make him cum.....perversely I'd continue fondling and teasing his prick
despite his pleas....and meanwhile that special "feeling" would build
inside me....you know, the one that's so warm and sexy, breathing is
difficult? I'd be thoroughly aroused at the sight of his nude body and most
reluctant to terminate what I was doing to him....ever so careful not to
send him over the edge into release....  For this reason it wasn't long
before I learned not to suck..oh yes I enjoyed the velvety texture and
salty taste, enjoyed it very much but knew too well that he'd be likely to
lose it and next I knew, would be face fucking me frantically and then he'd
cum way too soon....

Leaving school had presented problems of course..I'd been terribly shy but
eventually late one evening in a London Pub I'd met an interesting young
man who had suggested we go back to his place for coffee...I knew of course
what that meant so that when he asked me to undress for him it wasn't a
problem...oh the delicious feel of his fingers then his eventual
penetration...he used me as a woman so thoroughly that next day I was stiff
and sore....but those memories...they remained latent but now, it's all
coming back..I've been sort of celibate far too long....girls have obliged
but somehow, it's not the same - is it?  Often I lie back gently stroking
my prick...I can make it last ..and last..Vaseline helps of course but old
habits die hard...prolonging the pleasure..and all too often it's not a
girl I envisage but a slim boy whose hips undulate beneath my hands and
whose huge dark eyes gaze up at me - pleadingly.

Later of course our sessions became more sophisticated, more blatantly
"gay" - there was the occasion when as I tugged at his pyjama cord and he
resignedly muttered "a right couple of queers - aren't we?"  I didn't
disagree particularly when a little later lying alongside him, both of us
naked, with arms around him I caressed the small of his back to find my
breath catching while he - well he began to shake, his face buried in my
shoulder..oh yes, a right couple of queers we were...and now as memories of
those intense pleasures came back, I found myself yearning for them again,
the feel of another man's fingers toying with my prick, the questing finger
prior to a prick's insertion...oh yes, there were women I knew quite happy
to oblige and quite good at it...but none could match the pleasuring I'd
received in the hands of my boyfriends.  Often when in a public toilet I'd
glance at the graffiti only to grow hard at some of the depictions, boys
with erections, boys sucking, boys being penetrated in seemingly impossible
positions....

Once embarked on that train of thought I began to seriously consider
it....this was a small town I now lived in and obviously extreme caution
was called for - I didn't even know if there were a gay scene here though
guessed that if there were it would be well and truly underground...so I
bided my time.  Enlightenment occurred by accident, there was only one
gents hair dresser in town at the time, I'd noticed him previously, a small
cock robin of a man who chattered away while clicking the scissors...he
seemed to delight in spreading the gossip.  It was after I'd paid him a few
visits that he began to unwind, to him I was now a "regular" and bit by bit
the town gossip came out and then, voice dropping he confided "Oh my
yes...those little churches, they're full every Sunday..yes, mark my words
and you've seen them...Oh don't go to church do you...well then."  Here he
paused then continued "You'd be surprised you know...."  another pause and
he glanced away to retrieve another implement "Well, all very holy they
are...after church....but some of them...and there's some well known ones
mind you...in the evening..they get away from the missus..hang out
somewhere, meet up on the quiet and guess what they're after..sometimes
some local young lads will mix in but mostly they're partial to a bit of
stuff - in the bushes of course...with each other.  I hear all sorts of
things in here - you'd be surprised."

My heart was starting to pound, I had to swallow before speaking "You
mean...every day?  Surely not in daylight...unless of course they were well
away...."  The little chap nodded wisely, "Yes, yes of course but they
chose a good place, lots of bushes up there on the hill and besides...most
people know what goes on there, so they avoid the place...unless they're
after some fun too!  Never seen the cars parked up there have you?"  Come
to think of it I had seen them - besides there was only the one hill in
town so I knew exactly where the action was.  Keeping my voice casual I
questioned "So I suppose these respectable characters...they go there once
a week...don't their wives ask questions?"  He coughed then said "Well I
hear that early evening most days there's some blokes in the bushes...but
Thursdays (tonight) is most active and no, the wives don't bother 'cause I
hear most are only after a quick one - you know? An' the wives don't notice
though mind you, I hear one or two have a sort of understanding with the
missus....very attractive some of them too...pretty little things...though
one bloke was really silly and got caught in another bloke's bed and HIS
wife wasn't as understanding!"

As he spoke, I'd noticed quite incongruously that the barber himself could
be described as "a pretty little thing" but expunged that thought on seeing
his wife in the doorway, I'd heard about her, a dainty doll like woman
dressed to the nines in ultra feminine frills - by all accounts he doted
upon her.  No, he was a bird like little fellow but I couldn't imagine him
in those bushes...being pawed at by some corpulent member of the Chamber of
Commerce....intriguing thought all the same!  He was leaning quite close
though, if his wife hadn't of been watching us I wondered what would have
happened...would he have gone further?

Well, now I knew where those enjoying a taste of casual gay sex in these
parts went to indulge it...better still it appeared to be tacitly accepted
in the community at large, I knew that tonight would see increased activity
and because of that my presence would possibly attract less attention - the
safety in numbers thing.  I weighed the pros and cons - yes, there was a
risk of discovery but against that I balanced the fact that in some way it
seemed to be a semi official venue besides, anyone present would probably
be extremely reluctant to talk - particularly in a small town such as this
where it seemed that if you were discreet most things were acceptable. A
positive was that in a small community there was less likelihood of a
criminal element being present and then - above all and obscuring any other
consideration was the fact that by now I really wanted, needed, to have
another man feeling my prick and at that thought I came erect..I knew then
what I'd be doing that evening.