My 14th Summer
by Anonymous

	First, let me state that I am not homosexual, but my first sexual
partner was a male. Here is that story. I was fourteen and even though I
had discovered masturbation long before that, sex with someone else is a
different story. I grew up in a small town in the 1950's when young kids
didn't screw everything in sight like they do today. Horny young boys with
raging hormones had a hard time finding an outlet for their sexual needs.

	This all began early that summer on an overnight camping trip with
one of my good friends. It was a warm night and we lay in our tent on top
of our sleeping bags talking as usual about girls. Even though we were very
curious about sex, our knowledge was slim and based mostly on what we
picked up here and there. My friend was the talkative type and freely
expressed whatever was on his mind. After it had gotten dark, he told me he
was working on a line to use on girls and asked me if he could practice it
on me. I said ok, not really knowing what he had in mind. He put his arm
around my neck and began to whisper sweet nothings in my ear: "you're
beautiful, you're my type, I can't live without you, can I give you a
little kiss," and so on.  He went on and on like this, oblivious to my
presence. I was just a prop he was using. Aside from his arm around my
neck, our bodies were lying apart. We were very squeamish about touching
another person, especially another male. Finally though, my arm was going
to sleep and as I shifted position, the back of my hand brushed by his dick
which was, to my surprise, very hard. I hadn't ever seen anyone else with a
hard on and thinking about his gave me one too. He was still oblivious to
everything but his practicing, but I suddenly wondered what it would feel
like if our hard penises touched. The idea quickly became an obsession. I
had to feel it so I began to inch slowly toward him by moving just a little
every time he shifted his body and finally we were quite close. He was so
caught up in his chatter that he didn't realize what I was doing. Getting
up my nerve, I slid quickly on over and the tips of our rigid rods made
contact through our undershorts.  Wow! What an unexpected feeling! Looking
back and comparing it with other things that came later, that moment seems
inconsequential. But I still remember the thrill of that first sexual
touch.  He went silent immediately, and we just lay there like that for a
few seconds, our dicks twitching reflexly until he said, "Have you noticed
that it feels good to push your penis against something when it's hard?"

I said, "Yeah" even though I hadn't thought about it before--it did feel
good to be pushing my hard dick against his.

We scooted closer and pressed the full lengths of our rigid cocks together.
We both seemed to be ready for this even though we didn't plan it or
anticipate it. After a while, I decided to go a little farther so I pulled
on the top of his undershorts not knowing if I he would let me or not. But
he immediately lifted his body so I could get his shorts down to his knees
and while I pulled my own off, he removed his too. Naked, we rolled back
toward each other and our now bare members met. The heat and feel of skin
on skin was quite different than when just two thin layers of cloth had
separated us, and surprisingly good! We lay pressed together like that for
a couple of hours, and we did it again the next morning before packing up
to leave. That's all we did that night.  So, our first sexual experience
was pretty tame, and we didn't fully comprehend then what it would lead to
in the rest of the summer.

The next day I kept thinking about what we had done and it excited me
greatly. I was really afraid that he wouldn't want to do anything like that
again, but a day or two later we met on the street and he invited me to his
house. No one else was home and we went up to his bedroom where he locked
the door. When he turned from the door he was smirking and I could see the
front of his shorts pushed out by his erection--my fears were groundless.

"Now, where were we?" he asked.

We in a rush, jumped into his bed, and pressed our dicks together. The
sensation was just as exciting as the first time--maybe more so because in
the light of day we could also see our erect penises matched together full
length. His was maybe a little longer, but the head of mine was bigger. The
skin of his was lighter in color than mine and his red pubic hairs
contrasted with my black ones. That's as far as we got that time too
because his mother was coming home soon and we had to get dressed in a
hurry. On the third occasion we were together, we got up the nerve to touch
each other's penis, and on the fourth time we masturbated each other. I
remember how much more intense my orgasm was than when I masturbated
myself.

For a few weeks, our new-found sex life was like that: hurried encounters
in his bedroom or mine.  We rarely had more than half an hour because both
our mothers were housewives and were home most of the time. We grabbed what
time we could when they ran an errand. Given the opportunity, we would
quickly undress, get in bed, and masturbate each other. At other times we
would take whatever cheap thrills we could. Sometimes, outside at night we
would grind our crotches together with clothes on, or if we were in a safe
place, even unzip and one of us would poke his dick into the other's pants
for a quick feel.

Finally we had a chance for more on a day when his mother was going to be
gone for the whole afternoon! Naked in his bed, we decided not to rush-to
string it out for as long as we could which isn't easy for hot-blooded
14-year-old boys! We started by lying naked with our erect organs pressed
together. Then we slowly stroked and teased each other, trying hard not to
come too quickly. We had a lot of practice at hand jobs by then, but it
wasn't long though before we lost control and both of us came in each
other's hands. Since we didn't have to rush off like usual, we just lay
there on our backs and talked about sex. After a while when we had gotten
limp, we turned toward each other and our soft dicks flopped together. That
hardened tem up again immediately, but they were still slick with semen so
they slipped and slid over each other instead of staying together.

"God! That feels good," he said.

I agreed silently, and we began thrusting at each other, trying to rub our
dicks together. The sensation was great but it was frustrating because our
stiff, slick rods kept slipping off each other.

"Lie on your back," he said.

As soon as I did he rolled on top of me and stroked his penis back and
forth on mine at an angle so they didn't slide off. It was kind of like
crossing swords. This worked well enough, despite our clumsy technique,
that we both came for the second time that afternoon.

By about a month after our first accidental encounter, we were having sex
at least every other day and often every day. At that age, you never get
enough, and looking back, that was the time of the greatest frequency of
sex in my life. Our favorite technique changed from mutual hand jobs to
vigorously rubbing our dicks together with a little vaseline to make them
slip and slide.  Sometimes we did it with one of us on top like I described
above and sometimes side-by-side with one of us using a hand to keep our
penises together. The side-by-side position was my favorite because it was
exciting to see our enormously swollen penises lined up full length. I
liked to cup my hand behind them so I could see them both as they slid back
and forth on each other. Every once in a while I would press the sensitive
spots under the tips together and roll them tightly over each other. We
were able to come almost simultaneously most of the time and horny enough
to do it twice on many days. Sometimes we experimented with other
positions, like where one of us lay on his back on the edge of the bed and
the other one stood between his legs. The standing one would take both
dicks in hand and pump back and forth. When we shot off in this position,
cum really sprayed all over.

Still, most of our encounters had to be quickies and about mid-summer we
decided to go on another camping trip so we could have a whole night of
sex. The evening daylight seemed like it would never end, and we were a
little afraid to get completely naked before dark because someone might see
us. We couldn't stand to wait either. So, we stripped to our undershorts to
warm up, and he decided to kill the time by practicing his pick-up line for
the first time since the night when all this began. I quickly became bored
listening to the endless stream of "you know you want me to, we're made for
each other, and kiss me" he was whispering in my ear. So, the next time he
came around to "kiss me," I did, right on his lips. I'm sure he was
surprised but he didn't pull away. Our lips were together for only a few
seconds because neither of us had ever kissed anyone and we didn't know how
to do it.

One of the things that pubescent boys go through is the change in attitude
about kissing. Before puberty, the thought of kissing is repugnant, but
hormones change all that. Suddenly kissing is something that boys can't
wait to do, but at the same time, the thought of kissing a girl paralyzes
them with fear. They want to do it but they're afraid to try. Anyway, we
didn't discuss whether or not it would be a good idea for us to learn to
kiss on each other. After that first kiss, we accepted, without words, that
we would. In fact, we must have kissed hundreds of times that night
alone. These many years later I can still feel his soft lips on mine. I'm
not sure that we even slept and by morning we had gotten pretty good at it
by shear force of practice. Late that night we climaxed for the third and
most intense time as he lay on top of me and we thrust at each together
with greater than ever ferocity. We understood foreplay at last.

For the rest of the summer, our liaisons included a lot of kissing along
with genital sex. Several weeks after we discovered kissing, he asked me if
I knew what French kissing was. I had only the vaguest notion that it
involved tongue in mouth which is about all he knew too. Knowing that he
didn't hold back when he gets an idea, I wasn't surprised to feel the tip
of his tongue probing my lips on our next kiss. With each kiss, he became
bolder and finally his tongue darted deep into my mouth. Once it was there
he didn't know what to do next and I didn't either, but instinctively I
pursed my lips around it and sucked. He pulled out and then came back and
then darted in and out and in and out as I sucked. Then I tried it, sliding
my tongue in and out between his closed lips.  Our tongues touched
accidentally sometime in this exploration and then on purpose, licking and
caressing each other. Needless to say, from that time on French kissing was
something that we practiced with vigor.

When the summer was almost over we realized that time for our daily sexual
escapades was running out. So, we decided on one more camping trip to end
the summer. Dark came much earlier now, fortunately because we couldn't
wait very long. After setting up our tent, we stripped in nothing flat and
banged together like two box cars. Our mouths locked immediately; tongues
met and wrestled deep in our mouths. We probed with tongues and sucked
ferociously, rolling around with one of us on top and then the other, dicks
crushed together. After an hour and a half of nonstop, wet, wild kissing
and rubbing, I spread vaseline on our dicks and rolled on top of him.  I
came down hard, shoving my dick onto his and my tongue deep into his mouth.
His tongue wrapped mine and we licked every square inch of each other's
mouths. Our tongues were like magnets and they fought a frantic duel. I
sucked his between my lips where I could explore every bit of it with my
own.

It seemed like this went on for days, but it was only minutes before we
started thrusting our hips, driving our long, hard prods, pressed together
by my body and slick with vaseline, back and forth on each other. At first
we were under some control and we thrust slowly, sliding our dicks together
from tip to base. But very quickly control vanished and our thrusts were
quick, hard, and short, and our climaxes started surging from deep down.
About to explode, our tongues pressed together like they were trying to
fuse. Our climaxes came at exactly the same time, spewing cum over our
bellies, and ending a perfect summer of sexual discovery perfectly.

After that summer, we still had sex regularly for several years but nothing
like the frequency of that summer, and the occasions became farther and
farther apart as we gradually became involved with girls. We both married
and raised families, and I have never had another male sex partner and I am
sure that he hasn't either. We told ourselves at the time that the sex
between us was just for practice and we never discussed that it had any
other meaning. Maybe it did and maybe it.

Watch for a story called "Class Reunion" where I will tell what happened at
a high school class reunion many, many years later, and what it might
reveal about this question.