Date: Mon, 20 Jan 2003 15:31:46 -0800
From: Elliott Payne <elliottpayne@hotmail.com>
Subject: River Oaks Summer Part 3

So that was how it began. Was I troubled by all this? Yes, it nagged at me a
bit, shame and guilt, being raised Catholic I suppose. Indeed I was afraid
of becoming a fag. A mincey prancing fairy, garishly attired, traipsing
about the off-color cabarets of the Montrose district. But wait, I
remembered a human sexuality pamphlet given to me by my pediatrician a few
years prior, and also some health texts from the school library. In these I
learned that adolescent boys often developed crushes on other boys, that
such things were normal, and didn't necessarily denote homosexuality. Well,
dear reader, I clung to these half-remembered clinical estimations, with all
my soul. I was still straight, I told myself, well maybe bi, but that was my
business.

With that out of the way, I can tell you, I treasured my secret connection
with Chip. Who would ever suspect? We were an unlikely pair. He, a jock and
fairly straight and narrow from outward appearances. And me, a twerpy
intellectual pothead. I felt gratified and content to know that I had a
secret place with him, where I could learn the earthy nastiness of the human
body. I felt like a secret agent, leading an exciting double life.

As the summer progressed I visited with Chip several more times at his
basement. Knowing that I was unable to complete any of my lawn assignments
during inclement weather, he adopted a code from his football team's
practice manager. "Rainy day schedule" meant the players would stay inside
the gym, doing ordinary calisthenics and stretching exercises on blue mats
laid about the basketball court. When Chip called though, with the short
encoded query, "Rainy day schedule?" the meaning was something else
altogether.

Now I went around the side of his house, in the back door which would be
unlocked. Through the laundry room and down the service stairs where Chip
would be waiting. Usually wearing gym shorts or just his jock strap. We were
always hard right away. Occasionally we would smoke pot. We would spend long
hours together like this, with the radio playing.

With Chip's patient guidance I gradually overcame my shyness of my body, and
often we sat together naked on the couch, each with the other's dick in his
hand, pumping and jacking one another, learning what the other enjoyed or
didn't, learning to bring the other close, into final approach, then return
the controls to the captain for touch-down.

Other times we would stand facing each other, Chip bending slightly, and we
would let our dicks touch one another. First the tips, then together along
their shafts, we would take turns jacking both dicks together. What a
strange sensation, the tactile excitement of my hand jerking on another
boy's hard dick, and at the same time the penile excitement of my own dick
being rubbed and pumped. These new sensations overlapped and swam together
in my racing mind.

My own dick so small when placed against Chip's. But he did not mind, for
there was no mention of it, and he was clearly as excited as myself to be
touching and jacking together. I felt proud as his dick swelled from rubbing
close to my own.

I had never seen an uncircumcised penis up close before, and I marveled at
the beautiful efficiency of it. I could manipulate Chip's penis for long
blissful hours, even when it became soft, and he took pleasure in allowing
me to indulge my ceaseless curiosity.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to bring my face in close,
inspecting his mouth-watering manhood, massaging it, feeling its radiant
warmth, inhaling his scent. I place it against my cheek, rolling it gently.
And now the other cheek. I lay my face against his lower abdomen, my nose
near his belly button, then rubbing around in his pubic bush, inhaling
deeply. He moans gently and massages my shoulder with one hand.

How hungry I am for his fleshy masculinity. Today there is no turning back.
Right here right now. At Chip's instruction I begin by placing gentle kisses
on the tip of his semi-erect penis.

"Do you want to try suckin my dick today Duncan?"

"Yes." No equivocation. Now I have found my voice.

Chip stands and leans back against the arm of a chair. His pink flesh sticks
straight out, the head just beginning to peak out from under its hood. I
crouch before him. He has two freckles just below the rim of his
bellybutton. I place my hands on his hips, run my fingertips along his side,
grasp gently. "Just kiss the tip for me Duncan."

His dick is getting really hard now. I repeatedly place small kisses and
short licks with the tip of my tongue, as the head emerges. He rubs his
palms on the backs of my hands as I rest against him for balance. "Just kiss
the tip right now Duncan. Your face is so handsome kissing my dick, bro ...
This is so fuckin hot right here." I can't look in his eyes.

He grabs his stiff dick at the base, points it at my face, jacking on it.
"Open your mouth ... Stick out your tongue a little ... That's it." He lays
the head of his dick on my tongue and starts jacking. "Are you ready Duncan?
You wanna suck on my dick a little?"

"Ummm hummm..." Groaning.

"Okay, just take the head for now, and watch your teeth." I suck the meaty
tip of his dick into my mouth, rolling my lips over my teeth, so not to
scrape. I hold his head at the front of my mouth and suckle on it like a
baby with a pacifier. It has a warm salty taste. It throbs. He lets go of
his dick. Places his hands behind his head, fingers intertwined, striking a
masculine pose. He pumps his dick from the inside with hidden penis muscles.
The head fills, swells. It plops from my mouth. I examine it, red and goopy
with my saliva. I slurp it back in. Moaning. Bliss.

I look up. He gazes down at me, pleasure and desire mingle in his
expression. I break eye contact. I can not acknowledge him watching me
sucking his dick. I focus on his abdomen, his belly button, I grasp the
slight roll of his belly. "You're doin fuckin great pal."

He begins jacking firmly on the shaft of his penis as I suckle the head.
"I'm gunna squirt." I pull off, afraid. He jacks hard. I lean backwards, out
of the line of fire. He stops pumping suddenly, squeezes hard, below the
tip. He points at my chest and starts to blow. The first wad looks like a
tiny albino frog leaping out of the tip of his dick, its hind legs extended.
It splats warmly on my chest. It is a pleasant feeling, difficult to
describe. He blows about five more spurts of milky white spunk on my chest,
dripping down to my pubes. A warm gratifying sensation.

I grasp my own stiff dick and pump four or five times, fiercely. My own cum
spews. The first spurt flies over my shoulder. The rest lands on my chest
and belly and mixes in a goop with Chip's own sperm. Exhausted I look up at
him. He has bright hazel eyes which shine with a spark I have not noticed
before. There is a depth there I have never considered. He smiles. I start
to giggle. "Fucking A, Bro, that was fucking hot."

* * *

Late one afternoon not long after, we were out at the fort, expecting to
meet up with some of the neighborhood delinquents, but no one else had
appeared after about 45 minutes or so. It was getting on toward dusk. The
cicada bugs had begun to buzz. We had been reading some of the nasty
magazines. It became very quiet. I looked up to see Chip leaning against a
nearby tree, his cut-off jeans and underpants peeled down to his knees and
his stiff dick poking out. He was staring at me.

I gulped hard. This was dangerous. Anyone could come walking up, any one or
more of our friends could show up unannounced at any minute. Yet when I
gazed at his big pink penis, I really didn't give it any thought. It was as
if he could control my mind with his dick. I got up, walked to him, and got
down on my knees in the dirt.

I licked up and down the shaft several times, and then slurped the meaty tip
into my mouth, suckling. This time I slowly sucked more of his dick down,
bit by bit. A car passed on a gravel road nearby. Pumping up and down on his
hard dick, slowly working more and more of it down until I gagged. Took it
out. Caught my breath. Got back on it. Over and over. "Take as long as you
like Duncan."

God I liked having his penis in my mouth, out in the warm evening air. I
rubbed his buttocks gently with my fingertips. I sucked it down as far as I
could without gagging, then back up to the tip, then down again. Over and
over, a bit farther each stroke. He began to pump his hips a bit, and jack
the lower part of the shaft. I could taste his salty pre-cum. I could feel
the head swell and begin to twitch. He blew spooge in my mouth. I kept
working his dick but tried not to swallow. I spat everything out, while he
continued jacking himself off.

He pulled up his shorts and underwear. We walked back to the neighborhood
through tall grass. The sky was red.

* * *

One evening Chip invited me to spend the night at his house, to watch scary
movies on TV. This time his parents were home. We were in the living room
watching Texas Chainsaw on their big color television. His mom leaned in to
say they were going up to bed, goodnight. I could hear his parents upstairs,
shuffling around, water running in a bathroom. Chip reached over and starts
undoing my pants. What is this guy, crazy? Suddenly my pants and underpants
are down around my ankles. I can hear Chip's mom upstairs saying, "oh
fiddlesticks," about something, to Chip's dad.

Chip had never really sucked my dick before, but this night he was hungry
for it. He got down on the floor, brought his face in close, took the length
of my dick in his mouth in one slurp, and then really went to work. I was
hard and hot. He went crazy on it, and the weirdest thing, he would slow
down, stop, nibble on the tip, and stare up into my eyes. Freaky.

But oh man I dug it. This big jock, totally going to town, bobbing up and
down on my hard penis, twisting his head back and forth. I felt so powerful.
He swallowed the whole thing down, and worked it. He hugged me close with
his arms and rubbed his face along my belly with my dick still in his mouth,
rubbing my leg with his own hard dick, through his jeans. He opened his
mouth and let me pump my dick in and out, like I was fucking his face. When
I was about to blow, he stopped.

He went to the stairwell to make sure his parents were asleep, and then came
back. He told me to get all the way naked, and he took all of his clothes
off as well. He looked like he was getting the slightest bit of a gut on
him.

He laid me out on the couch on my back, put his face down in my crotch, and
stuck his own equipment in my face. We had to contort around a bit, but
wound ourselves tightly into a 69, side-by-side. I got as much of his dick
in my mouth as I could without choking. Bending a bit he could get my whole
dick in his mouth, and could alternate, licking back behind my ball sack,
towards my anus. It tickled but felt exciting.

Life is an accumulation of experience. Well, this night I save in a special
place. Over the years I will always return to this night. Life expands. It
stretches and bends. The years lay side-by-side in a line. But this night
exists apart from all others.

I suckle to my heart's content, and experiment with the mechanics of easing
his big dick down my throat. I can get it so far down, it blocks my nasal
passages, I can not breathe. But I do not stop. I release, inhale, try
again. All the while my own dick is in his mouth, and he does not tire
either. He is fascinated to have my penis in his mouth for long hours. We
suck, become soft, suck, become hard, suck.

>From time to time we adjust, go to the bathroom, to the fridge for a drink.
But always return to the couch, and resume our glorious 69, in one variation
or another.

An electric storm arises, as they are wont to do in the summer in east
Texas. The light illuminates our intertwined bodies in random flashes, but
the storm stays far away, the thunder never reaches us, there is no rain.

I imagine I am the astronaut in 2001, staring, bewildered, as the mysteries
of the universe are revealed, colored lights reflecting off my glass
head-piece.

Eventually a pinkish glow begins to appear in the sky outside the large
living room windows. We are exhausted as we climb the stairs. Chip's room
has two single beds. There is nothing to say. We crash.

Copyright 2003 Elliott Payne