Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2006 11:47:24 -0400 From: Philerup Subject: George Oh, the blessed days of high school -- at least high school thirty years ago, in a less sophisticated and more naive time, when every teen-aged boy was bursting with testosterone and willing to get his rocks off in any way possible. "Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive," wrote Wordsworth, "But to be young was very heaven." He could very well have been referring to the dawn of sexual desire, when boys became aware of the unlimited pleasure to be gleaned from that muscle between their legs that seemed to be hard half the time. I had learned the fine art of masturbation from my friend Patrick, and in no time I discovered several other friends who were practicing the art as faithfully as I was. Various groups -- two, three, or four of us -- would get together after school and engage in innocent little orgies, banging away and seeing who could shoot his cum the farthest. They were all straight guys, and for a while I thought I was too. But then along came George Actually, I'd known George for years already. We were classmates in school and playmates outside of school. We were Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts together. We shared lockers in the halls of the high school and in the gym locker room. And that's where I developed a sudden intense longing to suck his cock. I watched him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday strip down, put on his jock strap and pull it out to drop his cock down into its pouch, then put on his shorts and T-shirt. As I watched him doing this over the years I saw him develop from a hairless rather skinny kid into a well-shaped young athlete with hair on his chest and a treasure trail that led to a disturbingly attractive cock. As I looked at that dick, I remembered Aubrey, and how he had introduced me to the joy of having a hot cock in my mouth. I hadn't had one since then, but now the desire to do so overwhelmed me. The next day Kenny, who lived next door, walked home from school with me. As often happened, he said to me when we got to my house, "Wanna have some fun?" "Sure," I said. We went right up to my bedroom and dropped our pants and Kenny began to jack off. But I stopped him. He looked at me quizzically. "You ever had a blow job?" I asked. "No," he said. "Would you like one?" "Sure!" He lay back on the bed, his legs dangling down the side, and I knelt before him. That pleasant aroma of cock-in-heat came to my nostrils. I took his cock in my mouth and sucked on it. He writhed on the bed. "Oh shit!" he said. "Christ! That feels good" Well, you know how it is with 16-year olds. In no time he was ready to shoot his load. I pulled off and let him finish it by hand. That became a daily ritual. Kenny was having the time of his life, and so was I. Then one day Kenny asked if he could bring his friend Brian. Sure, that was fine. I sucked them both. Pretty soon I was sucking every guy that I had only jacked off with before, and loving every minute of it. But I was just practicing, pretending it was George I was ministering to, and planning how I was going to achieve my goal. Because George, sad to say, disdained the games the rest of us were playing. He refused any invitations to join in circle jerks and kept aloof from the discussions of sex that dominated most of our conversations. Someone told me that George actually threatened to deck anybody who laid a hand on him. George was clothed in the allure of the unattainable. But now I was so hopelessly infatuated with him that I was desperate. I HAD to get my hands on that beautiful cock and get it into my mouth. Fate stepped in. My brother was discharged from the army and came home with -- tucked away in his duffel bag -- some very choice erotica. It was straight stuff, of course, but even someone with pronounced gay leanings (though I didn't even know the word at the time) could find plenty of arousing reading. On the way home from school the next day, I invited George to come home with me -- "I have something I want you to see," I told him. Kenny was a little put out, but I didn't care. I was now angling for bigger fish. When we got home, I produced the manuscript of "Gloria, the Modern Widow." I have forgotten much of the story now, but I know that it contained several very steamy sex scenes. I gave it to George and he began to read. Suddenly his eyes widened. In another minute he was turning the page with considerable eagerness. Sitting beside him, I watched between his legs and was soon rewarded by the sight of a swelling that rapidly increased in size. Only two layers of thin cloth separate me from sheer heaven, I thought. Then, emboldened by the sight and the thought, I made my move. I very tentatively put my hand on the bulge. I could feel the rock -hard cock there. I let my hand rest there, afraid he was going to push it away, but he didn't. He kept reading. I rubbed the bulge and he shifted his weight slightly. I unfastened the buckle on his belt. And he took my hand and put it back on his cock. "Hungry, Phil?" he whispered. I couldn't speak, I was so overcome with sheer lust. I fumbled with the zipper on his pants, but couldn't get it to open. He stood up, unzipped his pants, and pushed them down. Now there was only the snowy-white underwear between me and the object of my desire. But not for very long. I pulled it down and out sprang that glorious cock in full erection. I knew it was big, but I had never seen it hard, and it was a sight to see. It must have been at least nine inches long. It wasn't thick -- not monstrously so anyway -- and it had a mushroom head that drove me crazy. I wasted no time in preliminaries but immediately took the tool into my eager mouth. I didn't have to work. George began thrusting his hips immediately, driving his weapon into my throat. Of course I gagged on it -- I had never anything that big there before. But he didn't stop -- he just kept pumping until he was ready to cum, then pulled out and shot his load into a handkerchief that he had somehow got out of his pocket. And all the time he kept reading. He left soon after, but he hadn't finished "Gloria" and had to come back the next day, when we went through exactly the same routine -- as we did a good many more times. All the time he kept reading. When he finished "Gloria," he'd pick up a magazine and leaf through that while I performed my acts of worship. There was never any question of retaliation; he never even touched me during these times. Then came the senior trip to Washington D.C. Two to a room, and George asked me to room with him. The night before the bus left for the capital, I could hardly sleep. I was going to be sharing George's bed for two whole nights! We arrived and did the usual tours of the capital, the mint, the Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson memorials, had dinner and went to a movie. But I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel All through the movie George's leg was pressing against mine. When we finally got back, we wasted no time. We stripped and showered and jumped into bed -- naked. We had our business cut out for us. George was hard even before he got in the shower, and I watched him drying himself with the towel with great impatience. Finally he flopped down beside me on the bed, the tent pole sticking up, just begging for attention -- which I rapidly gave it. We had the whole night ahead, and I was going to make this last -- no fast bj with a crumpled handkerchief to end it. I began by licking his balls and up and down the shaft. He moaned -- the first time he'd made any noise while we were having sex. That only made me more lustful than ever. I grasped the cock and began jacking it while running my tongue over the head. Pre-cum was gushing out, but that didn't bother me. I remembered how Aubrey, ten years before, had treated me to some of that -- it had turned me off then but now it didn't bother me at all. Finally I slipped that mushroom head into my mouth and began working. So did George -- pumping away and moaning as he never had before. Soon he was ready to shoot his load, and he considerately pulled out of my mouth and let Old Faithful erupt all over both of us. We relaxed a few minutes, then both headed for the shower -- separately, of course. When we got back on the bed, George whispered, "I could do that again." So we did -- three more times. George's cock was sore by the time we finished, but we both had a wonderful time. And then there was the next night. Only three times that night, but each one even better than the one before. Soon school was out -- we both graduated, and in the fall George went to college. When he came back at Christmas time, he was a changed man. He had his first sex with a woman -- a whore -- and was sold on women. He didn't come right out and tell me, but I knew that he wanted to forget that he had ever dallied with a queer. I didn't see George again until our 25th class reunion. He had married and had five children, and he carefully avoided me all the time. But meanwhile I had met Father Bob and experienced what I never had before -- the joy of reciptocity.