Kelvin's First Time
by Kelvin Guard

	I grew up in a small town in the northwest part of the United States. 
It was a nice place to grow up, with plenty of fields and forests to play in,
lots of forts to build, plenty of little league teams to join.  But one thing
that was certain about it:  children didn't know about sex the way they did
in other places or other times.  I had no idea where babies came from or
what sex was until I was thirteen and I only found out about it then when I
stumbled across a book at school that described it.  Even things like
masturbation and homosexuality were completely unknown.  They were
things that were never mentioned, not even on the school grounds where
they're now such topics of innocent speculation and humor.
	One fall, when I was ten years old, I discovered about sex from a
classmate.  We were in fifth grade together.  His name was Pat.  (His last
name is etched in my brain for all of time, but I would not presume to say
it.)  Although I had been innocently attracted to several of the other boys
in class, I had never really paid too much attention to him.  He was a year
older, having been held back a grade some years earlier.  One day, however,
he just started tagging around with me.  During recess, through lunch, in
P.E.;  he seemed to be everywhere.  He was very attentive to me and I soon
realized that he was touching me more often than boys that age generally
did.  I liked the affection even though it did make me feel a little
embarrassed.
	We were walking toward my house after school and he asked me if I
wanted to come over to his mother's apartment to play.  It was overcast, a
bit drizzly and very cold (as it always was that time of year), so playing
outdoors was definitely out.  Having no other plans, I happily agreed.
	His parents were divorced and his mother worked.  He also had no
siblings.  We were, therefore, all alone.  Our play began with a game of
Sorry.  I don't remember who won.
	Afterwards, I sat down in an armchair and waited for his
suggestions for other play.  Soon, he squirmed into the chair beside me.  I
can still see his face at that moment in crystal clarity.  He had brown hair
and brown eyes.  His skin was, of course, very soft and beardless, and his
cheeks were rosy with a slight blush.  I thought he was very cute.  The
chair wasn't all that big, however, and the close proximity of his body was
a little uncomfortable, though we were both very small and skinny.
	I know it sounds clicheic and it makes me laugh now, but somehow
the talk turned to massages.  I must have learned very recently that
massages were given in the nude (doubtlessly from too much television). 
So, when Patrick asked me to give him a massage, I giggled fantastically
and told him he had to take his clothes off for that.  I assumed, I have no
doubt now, that he would never agree to do this and, I have no doubt, I
really didn't want him to.
	To my astonishment, he silently got up and disappeared into his
bedroom.  I was very confused by this and felt more than a little
frightened.  Apart from my brothers, I had never seen a boy naked and the
idea of being alone with one was very confusing for me at ten years old. 
For a long time, I nervously struggled with the idea of leaving before he
came back.  Curiosity won out, however, and Patrick returned a short time
later.
	He returned with a towel wrapped around his waist.  I giggled and he
blushed.  Like most of the boys at school, he was very thin and his small
chest was straight up and down without any significant muscle.  His
nipples were tiny and a deep brownish purple, sitting on his flat chest.
	"You're not naked!" I said, certain that he must have been wearing his
underwear beneath the towel.
	He grinned and blushed even brighter as he unwrapped the towel and
bared his penis.  I was too surprised and too giggly to look at it and fell
back in the armchair.
	"You said you were going to give me a massage," Patrick said.
	I sat giggling and blushing, not looking at him, filled with confused
feelings and uncertainties.  I was even more astonished when I felt him
crawling into the chair beside me again.  I had to sit normally in order for
him to have room and this soon left me sitting beside his naked body.  I
grinned into his face again.  Patrick just sat looking into my eyes, a tight
smile on his face, his cheeks flushed a bright red.
	"What are you doing?" I giggled.
	"Nothin'," he replied softly.
	We sat there for a long time blushing at each other.  He made no
effort to conceal himself and I was soon feeling more and more curious. 
Slowly, my eyes moved down his slender body.  His skinny arms were
squeezed up tightly to his chest and he sat with his hands resting on his
thighs.  His skin looked very soft and unmarked by blemishes or moles or
anything.  My eyes moved down his belly and soon beheld his eleven year
old boyhood.
	He had no pubic hair, which was a relief for I knew nothing about
such things and would have been prohibitively confused.  The skin that ran
up and across the small mound between his legs was as soft and hairless
as the rest of his body.  His penis itself was only partially erect, just
enough to give it a rubbery thickness as it lay on his testicles.  On later
dates, we measured the length of our erections.  His was a little over four
inches when hard.  At that moment, it was only about three.
	He was circumcised as all boys were at that time and in that place,
but I didn't know about such things anyway at that age.  His penis head was
brownish purple, though not as dark as his nipples.  His penis looked big to
me, its thickness unmarked by any veins or anything except the pale blue
blush of one along the top.
	I looked back up at his face again and giggled, but Patrick had
stopped smiling.  He was looking at me with a blushing solemnity.  His
serious expression disquieted me and I fell silent, my eyes automatically
moving back down to his boyhood.
	"Touch it," he told me in a very soft voice.
	This made me giggle again and the blush jumped back into my face
until I felt hot.  When I didn't reach for his toy, he slowly reached for it
himself and I watched his fingers gently prodding it and feeling along it,
moving it gently across his balls, then laying it back against his belly. 
Despite my giggles, I was very disturbed seeing him touching himself
down there and again fought a desire to run home.
	"Come on," he said, and his hand moved from his small cock and
grabbed my wrist.  I struggled weakly to pull it back, but the boy was
older and stronger and he forced my hand between his legs.  His body
flinched when I touched it and I stared at my hand in shock.  The feel of
his cock was oddly exciting and so astonishing that I felt my hand
caressing it in surprise.  I could feel it growing and stiffening and stared
at it in wide-eyed amazement.
	The boy's strength left the grip on my wrist and I jerked my hand
back.  I watched his penis stiffening in erection and it soon started to
pulse rhythmically up and down against the soft hairlessness of his belly. 
With greater length, it didn't look quite as thick but was still much larger
looking than mine.  I had had erections before myself, so the fact that he
had one wasn't terribly shocking.  It just seemed to affect me in ways I
didn't understand.  The head looked more purple now and it was swelling
out from his pale penis shaft, shining slightly.
	I looked again at his face but he was looking down between his legs. 
I turned back to his erection as well and watched it throbbing with
prepubescent excitement.  His fingers were trembling softly as they
returned to his hard cock and they felt along it as it pulsed.
	"Why does it get so hard?" I heard my voice asking softly, my face
and head feeling hot.  Patrick didn't answer and I felt even more
embarrassed that I had asked such a thing.
	"Take your clothes off," he said suddenly, his face turning to me as
he kept feeling himself.
	This sent me into nervous giggles again.  It was one thing to see
another boy naked;  having him see me was quite a different story.  "No," I
giggled, my arms holding my skinny chest protectively.
	Patrick looked at me solemnly for a moment, then his hand moved
from his penis and rested on the little bulge in my blue jeans.  Although I
felt an immediate sensation of pleasure, I quickly pulled his hand away
and frantically jumped to my feet.
	"What are you doing?" I asked in near terror.
	Patrick sat on the armchair grinning and blushing up at me.  He
looked so cute that I couldn't get very angry at him, but the sight of his
throbbing nudity disturbed me.  He didn't answer, his arms laying on the
armrests, spreading his skinny body before me.
	"I'm going home," I said, and I meant it.
	"No," the boy said, jumping up from the chair before I could reach the
door.  "Don't go, please."
	"You're being weird."  I looked down at his hairless penis, now
sticking straight out from his body and still pulsing rhythmically up and
down.
	"I'm sorry.  Please don't go."  He was looking at me with frightened
eyes, as if more worried that I would leave than that he was naked. 
Looking back, I think he just didn't want me to go away and tell the other
boys what had happened.  At any rate, I was too young and too naive to
ignore his pleading.  I sighed and walked back into the room, sitting back
down on the chair and not giving him room to sit back down next to me.
	"Just take your shirt off," he said, standing there naked and excited
in the middle of the room.
	"Why?!" I asked, confused by his pleading.
	"I did."
	I still felt more than a little uncomfortable and I wouldn't look at
him for a long time.  He didn't say anything and I eventually looked up to
see what he was doing.  He was just standing there looking at me, his four
inch penis still throbbing madly.
	"I'll take it off for you," he suddenly said, moving closer to me.  I
have no idea now what I was thinking, but I let him.  He took the lower end
of my t-shirt and pulled it up my skinny body and I willingly raised my
arms and let him pull it off me.  By the time it was free, I was smiling and
blushing again, my arms lowering as I giggled and gently hugged my skinny
chest again.
	Patrick smiled down at me with adoring eyes, and I nervously stole
another glance at his stiff boner.
	"Let me see your penis," he half-asked, have said.  I blushed down at
my blue jeans and at the little bulge beneath the zipper.  Some part of me
wanted to do it, but I was so embarrassed by my hairless innocence. 
Oddly, however, I wanted to look at it as much as Patrick did.
	Feeling my face grow hot with blush, I suddenly found my fingers
reaching for my zipper.  Again, I can't remember what I was thinking or
even what happened.  All I can remember is that one moment I was sitting
there bare chested in my blue jeans, and the next I had wiggled them down
to my knees along with my underpants.
	I hugged my skinny body again, giggling nervously, unable to look at
Patrick or my own nudity.  It was as if I was waiting for his judgment of
my little boyhood.
	He giggled and I blushed up at him.  He walked over to the chair and I
squirmed over, giving him room to sit beside me again.  It was very
exciting, feeling his skinny, naked body sliding in next to me, feeling his
soft skin rub against mine.  When he was seated, our arms were again
squeezed in and I blushed as I felt him wrap his arm around my thin
shoulders.  We smiled at each other.
	I don't know if it was because my parents were too busy for me or
what, but I felt very happy being held as I was by him.  I felt loved
somehow, I hadn't felt that very much.  Though I was certainly blushing
horrendously, it felt very nice being next to the older boy.
	I watched his eyes drop from my face and move down my skinny body
to my boyhood.  I didn't feel near so nervous about him seeing it as I did
seeing it myself, but I soon looked down with him at the hairless pink
thing.
	It looked very little compared to his erection.  I didn't have peach
fuzz until I was fifteen and my penis was as hairless as it could possible
be.  My skin was very pale, almost white, and it showed between my legs
as it did elsewhere.  I didn't have an erection and it was only about an inch
long at the time, pillowed by my little, pink testicles.  The head was of a
proper size for a penis so small, colored purple, the edge gently collared
by what remained of my foreskin.  I thought it looked pretty, but still
waited nervously for Patrick's judgment of it.
	I looked up at him again, but he was blushing and smiling vaguely at
my penis.  Feeling even more nervous, I looked back down at it.  Patrick
didn't say anything, but his other hand gently moved to it.
	I felt my whole body tighten in confused wonder as his fingers began
gently fondling my little cock.  It grew somewhat as he separated the
skinny little shaft from the balls and seeing it with a little more size was
a relief to me.  Still, it felt so different being touched by another boy.  I
could feel my heart start pounding and I felt almost sick as I felt the odd
sensations from my dick.  I was terribly confused by all of it.
	Patrick kept playing with it, and I could feel the gentle tugs of his
fingertips on my boyhood.  I felt it starting to stiffen and it seemed to go
from rubbery, boyish innocence to stiff, throbbing erection in the space of
about two seconds.  Patrick giggled delightedly and his fingers kept
feeling along the skinny, throbbing three inches (as later measured) of my
erection.  I lay stiff and confused, staring at the hairless pink thing
between my legs as the older boy fondled it.  I had never touched it myself
when it got hard, and now he was doing it.
	"What are you doing?" I asked nervously.
	"Nothing," he said.  "Haven't you ever rubbed it before?"
	I shook my head quickly, my eyes not leaving my penis.
	"It feels good," he said.  I scarcely heard him.  I could feel my penis
pulsing, sending little shivers of pleasure into my belly.  I felt queazy and
confused.
	"Do it to mine," he said softly.
	"No," I said in nervous fascination.
	He didn't ask again, but I could feel his thumb and forefinger taking a
firmer grip of my skinny little erection.  My penis head had grown a
brighter purple and now stood out in a swollen knob, shining brightly with
pressure, looking so clearly separate from the pale shaft beneath.  He
started rubbing on it and my body grew still tighter in confusion.  I could
see the pale skin of my erection moving up and down on the intense
hardness beneath, my little testicles moving up and down with each stroke
he made.
	"What are you doing?" I asked again, this time sounding more like a
pathetic cry.
	"Don't worry," he said, and I was astonished when he suddenly kissed
my soft cheek.
	I wanted to cry, so confused did I feel, but I just sat there staring at
my cock, watching the rhythmic movements of the skin, the excited
shining of my penis head.  It was too strange.  Parts of the body didn't feel
like this, certainly not my penis.  I was thoroughly bewildered. 
Somewhere in my mind I was screaming to run away, but all I could do was
lay there and let the boy do it.
	It seemed to be getting more intense and I was soon crying softly
and begging him to stop.  He didn't, however, just kept rubbing on it with
his fingers and telling me not to worry.  He was very gentle with me in
retrospect, and cooed into my ear with soothing promises that it would be
okay.
	Soon, I was crying and it seemed like I wasn't in the room.  I thought
that my penis had felt as good as it possibly could, but it just kept feeling
better.  It was very frightening.
	Very suddenly, and without any warning, my pleasure seemed to
multiply tenfold.  I could feel my skinny body stiffening dramatically
without volition and I could hear myself crying in confused astonishment. 
My hips started jerking up and down and I could feel my penis flexing in
Patrick's fingers.  I was desperate to breathe, but it was as if all the air
in me was devoid of oxygen.
	As suddenly as it had hit me, it stopped about ten seconds later,
releasing my tense muscles, and I stared in fascination as the intense
pleasure abated, sending me gently floating back into reality.
	A flurry of confusion followed, as I recall.  I got dressed very
quickly, even though Patrick was again begging me to stay.  I felt ashamed
and had no idea why.  I grabbed my clothes and left Patrick standing there
still naked and still erect, his last words still trying to explain to me
what had happened.  I walked the mile back to my house filled with
confusion and greater curiosity and the next few days seemed to pass in a
fog.  I felt different with my other friends and with my family.  Somehow,
they just didn't seem very smart anymore.
	Why I'd felt such initial shame, I don't know now and didn't know
then.  I had no knowledge that said such a thing was bad.  Still, it took me
many hours to get over my initial terror and confusion.  I have never
described the full experience until now, and never told anybody it had ever
happened until a few months ago.  The next day at school, I treated Patrick
so badly that we got in a fist fight, a fight he very promptly won.
	After a couple of weeks, however, I got up the nerve to apologize and
ask if I could come over again.  After that, I was over at Patrick's a couple
of times a week.  At first, we didn't do anything sexual, but later we did
and it developed into a sexual awakening that lasted throughout fifth
grade.  The next summer, he and his mother moved away, and I have never
seen or heard of him since.
	It wasn't a bad experience.  It was, in retrospect, quite beautiful.
I had no way of understanding what was happening, but I enjoyed it and,
after that first time, so did Patrick.  It wasn't until two years later that I
learned that I was supposed to be ashamed of such things.  By that time, I
had done it with several of my friends, and it was too late to regret it all. 
It has only been recently that I've learned that this wasn't a normal thing
for boys to go through.  So sad for them.
	What all did Patrick and I do over the course of that year?  We
masturbated together and each other, that should be clear, and he
introduced me to oral sex.  We faked anal sex, which is to say that we laid
our penises along the crack, but never penetrated each other.  I'm quite
certain we would never have believed such a thing was possible.  Neither
of us ever ejaculated and I, for one, never knew that such things were
supposed to happen at that point.  If Patrick knew, he never told me.  I
don't know where he'd learned such things.  I did find out later that it was
a one room apartment and he and his mother slept together.  He never said
they had sex, but I've often wondered over the years since.
	I'd love to see him today and frequently remember him and the times
we had.