Date: Thu, 29 Nov 2018 10:21:30 +0100 (CET)
From: David <lovebug69@tutanota.com>
Subject: David's World, Part Six-David and the Man Redux pt 1

In this chapter, David finally experiences the physical gratification he
seeks.

I've edited this chapter more than any thus far, as I struggled with
deciding on proper content. I finally decided to include everything, no
matter how inane -- and I mean utterly and wholly silly (you'll see in the
next chapter) -- it may seem. Nifty affords anonymity which allows me to
include still-embarrassing anecdotes I've never revealed to anyone before.

I still receive questions about the authenticity of this series (thanks
again to all who have emailed). I am flattered some of you think I may have
such a vivid imagination. I confess I have invented minor details as I
imagine them where needed, as I could not possibly remember all the details
necessary to make this a pleasantly-readable series. I liken this to a
fact-based docudrama as opposed to a documentary. I enjoy telling my story
and hope you enjoy reading it. If I continue this series into adult David
as I originally planned, I'll let you know when the "fantasy" begins, and
aside from that I'll not comment on the matter further.

I enjoy hearing from you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy
writing it. I retain all rights of ownership, use and distribution while
granting Nifty digital license to share this with you for your personal
reading pleasure only, according to Nifty's terms.

If you are able, please make a small donation to Nifty to help maintain
this great repository of GLBT erotica. It's easy. Just go to
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

-David, aka Lovebug

********************

DAVID'S WORLD

PART SIX: David and the Man Redux pt. 1

[In the last chapter, David's schoolmate Mark caught David naked and
aroused. They jacked off together.]

Mark and I stood idly fondling ourselves while coming down from our
orgasmic high. He shrunk from a nearly four-inch spike to under three
inches of semi-soft flesh pretty quickly as he squeezed, stroked, shook,
twirled, and otherwise played with his softening member. I was mesmerized,
copying every move as he too watched me -- but my dick remained hard while
his softened. Again, my little friend was betraying me, as I had lost
interest in further activity with Mark. Apparently he had too, for just as
quickly as he had dropped his drawers, he pulled them up and turned away.

"I gotta go," he said as he headed for the door.

"See ya," I answered, wondering why he had come over in the first place.

I noticed my bunched-up clothes on the back of the sofa, against the wall
in plain sight. Sheesh, why couldn't I find them five minutes ago? If I had
found them earlier I would not have had my little spunk war with Mark,
which although I thoroughly enjoyed I was starting to regret. Would Mark
tell someone? I was pretty sure he wouldn't tell anyone the truth, but he
could say he walked in on me, conveniently leaving out the part about him
starting our joint jack-off session. No kid I knew would admit to
masturbating.

I grabbed my clothes and sneaked up to close the front door. I looked but
didn't see Randy. Probably finished and went in for a shower, I figured. I
locked the door, grabbed fresh undies from my room and ran naked down the
hall for a quick shower myself, needing to clean a sticky mess. Nearly
finished -- having saved the best for last, as is now my habit -- I grabbed
the handheld and sprayed my balls. I was already hard in anticipation. I
love the water tickling me even more than light caresses!

I heard the doorbell. Jeez Louise! So much for having the house to
myself. I hastily washed my junk, rinsed off, and heard the doorbell again
before I could get out of the shower.

I don't know why I felt the need to answer the door. I wasn't expecting
anyone. I wrapped a towel around me and ran dripping, opening the door just
as a car I did not recognize pulled away. Oh well. They should have phoned
first anyway. I went to my room to dress, still not sure how I wanted to
spend my day. I dropped my towel. I was less than half-hard. I swung my
hips back and forth in an arc, giving my little friend a ride. I loved how
it felt as the centrifugal force pulled my dick out away from my body:
warm, tingly, and hard faster than from thinking of library boy.

I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand: 9:45, so the library would be
open in a few minutes. I noticed my scriptures, now collecting dust beside
the alarm clock, and was filled with shame for what I'd done with Mark, or
more accurately, how much I enjoyed what I had done, thinking of what that
made me. It has been nearly a month now since I discovered my dick, a month
since I've been to church. The shame was lessened, though, as I recalled
what Anita Bryant said about not being gay until you play, so technically
I'm still innocent, still normal. All I'd done was masturbate. I'm not
supposed to do that I know, but I don't think it's a bad sin, more like
drinking coffee, isn't it? And what about Brother Frandsen, anyway? He
almost did stuff with me, but he's a Mormon and he's married, so he's not a
fag. I really need to go to the library, library boy or not; I had some
reading to do.

I chose an old pair of Navy-blue OP shorts that are tight where it matters,
and a baggy, faded yellow tank top. That was easy. I couldn't decide
between my Sperry's and an old pair of Adidas runners. I donned the
topsiders then remembered how icky they feel on hot days when my feet
sweat, so I kicked them off and grabbed socks from my dresser. Ah, purple
stripes. I love purple. I pulled up my socks to just below my knees, loving
the pair of inch-wide, deep-purple stripes on each. I slipped on my shoes
without untying them, and headed off. The money! I snatched the ten bucks
mom left me, locked the front door behind me and pedaled off hoping today I
would find library boy. I felt clean, free, and pretty good, having decided
I'm not a fag. I'm a good kid. I'm sure I look good too wearing all my
favorite clothes: navy shorts, yellow top, purple-striped socks and
red-striped, white runners; my fashion sense was impeccable. Well, maybe
not so much, but I didn't know it. At least my shorts were tight in the
crotch. I love a tight crotch, and I can't wait for my dick to grow so it
shows more like Bruce's. I wonder how big Bruce's dick is.

I rode down Gothard to the library. I liked the little dips in the
two-lane, quiet road with much less traffic than Golden West, the parallel
alternative. I got to the park and rode through the Gothard Street parking
lot. I rode slowly, watching the restroom. It was still pretty busy with a
few men hanging around, some going in or out, and a few cars in the parking
lot. I didn't see women or kids, so this must be an area for men's sports
teams or something (I really was still that naive). I cut across through
the tall eucalyptus trees to a lower path and passed by a man standing in
the bushes, looking down. I could see him only shoulders-up, but his
expression told me he was enjoying himself. Is he masturbating? He's crazy
if he is, there are men everywhere and he's sure to get caught. [Note: I
just have to pause here and say what I think I've made obvious, that this
restroom was extremely cruisy, although I still had no clue. I would end up
finding out and getting my dick sucked there or in the surrounding bushes
countless, perhaps hundreds of times. The other restroom had once been
cruisy, but city officials tore out the stalls to deter the cruisers.]

I rode off toward the library, but considered taking a little detour to the
other Gothard restroom, the one with the missing stalls. A shiver went up
my spine. I was at the same time scared again and horny in anticipation. I
stopped my bike and thought about it. Brother Frandsen won't be there. He's
a Scout leader in another ward (that's how I know him), so he'll be picking
oranges. I still wasn't convinced it was a good idea, so I rode to the
restroom and around it, circling like a vulture as I deliberated going
inside. There was nobody around. I got the idea to hide my bike in the
bushes to enable a quick getaway should I need it, so I did just that.

I waited in the bushes a minute, looking about again to make sure nobody
was around. I reached both hands into my tank top and played with my
nipples, then rubbed my palm on my bulge and thought about jacking off
right there, but instead I walked up to and entered the dimly-lit
restroom. I noticed the smell of urinal cakes; now they had an effect on
me. I rather liked the smell and I was reminded of both library boy and
Brother Frandsen. I stood still and listened carefully but heard no one
outside. I would not get caught off-guard again. I unfastened and pushed my
shorts & undies down around mid-thigh while standing just inside the
doorway, delighting in being so naughty! My raging member stood straight
up, my balls hung low. I faced the doorway as if challenging somebody to
walk in and catch me fondling my balls and playing with my nipples.

I rotated my hips left and right trying to swing my little beast, but it
was too rigid to move. I did a little hula of sorts like on the I Dream of
Jeannie opening credits, swaying my hips side to side. I air-fucked
different boys -- not actual fantasy fucking, as that had not yet even
thought about such a thing, but just thrusting at imagined images of boys I
liked: library boy, Tommy, Bruce. Take this! Take that! Oh, the thrill! I
was scared I would be, but still wanted so bad to get caught!

Be careful what you wish for.

All of this lasted maybe a minute or two. I was about to jack off but I was
thirsty, so I pulled my shorts up over my ass but left my jewels exposed
and fly splayed open, as I would get back at it after getting a drink. I
listened again; nothing. I pushed the wall button over a stainless steel
sink and leaned over to get my mouth under the faucet. My shorts started to
fall but I spread my legs to stop them; my undies stayed put.

Footsteps! Fuck!

I straightened up and before looking behind me I pulled my undies and
shorts up over my hardness and buttoned. I fumbled with the zipper.

"Hello, David."

I couldn't grab the zipper tab which was pointed down, all the way down
into the seam where my fingers could not reach it. I pulled the sides of my
fly together best I could and turned around.

"Bother Frandsen!" I almost shouted, surprised but a little relieved it was
he who stood in the doorway. I was trembling. He was wearing the same boots
as yesterday and tight 501s topped by a plain whit tee.

"It's Greg," he said. "I don't call you Brother Pederson."

He was smiling knowingly and looked down at my crotch making no effort to
hide his interest. I looked at his crotch, excited by the sizeable bulge
behind a very faded, nearly white area of already faded jeans. Shoot! My
zipper!

"I um. Iya. My zipper's stuck," I explained. I was scared, but more a
nervous scared. I was terribly but terrifically hard and knew my shorts
with the open fly couldn't hide it.

"Let's have a look," he said, as he walked up and reached down to cup my
crotch in his large, rough hand.

OHMYGAWD! This is it. IT! He rubbed his hand up and down, around, and
gently squeezed about, feeling all I had to offer. His touch was truly
electric as it sent shivers tingling throughout my body. I watched his
dexterous fingers having no trouble whatsoever finding and teasing his
prize. He softly squeezed my hardness then reached his fingers into my open
fly and traced the hard outline in my briefs. I was frozen, not with fear
but with delight -- and I wouldn't move if I could. There is simply nothing
better than this, not even jacking off. He withdrew his hand and raised one
of my arms, briefly studying my immature pit. He let it back down then
reached into my tank top and rubbed his hand over my chest, then lightly
brushed his palm over just the tip of my hard nipples. Oh gawd it was
intense. Wait, who told him about my little nipple play demonstration, I
wondered for an instant before coming back to all that mattered now.

"Come here," he whispered as his large hand lightly encircled the back of
my skinny neck and guided me around the solitary partition to the
crappers. He sat on the one next to the partition without taking down his
Levi's. Weird, I thought, as the toilet hasn't a lid.

He put his hands on my hips and positioned me directly in front of him,
facing him. I felt very small with his large hands on me. He grabbed my
tank top on both sides and lifted. I thought he would remove it, but he
stopped when my entire chest was exposed, tank top in front of my face
blocking my view. I could see a little through the worn, faded-yellow
fabric and watched him look me over then lean forward to my chest. He
inhaled long and deep, taking in my essence as he dragged his nose across
my chest from pit to pit. He exhaled with a perceptible satisfied sigh. He
put his mouth over my left nipple and darted his tongue back and forth
rapidly. I moaned lightly, barely audibly and was embarrassed. He bit the
tip of my nipple. It hurt! I recoiled back slightly, but Greg, apparently
satisfied with whatever he was doing, released my top with his left hand,
still holding it up with his right, and reached across to gently massage my
tender nipple. All better. He moved to my right nipple, flicking it with
his finger as he had done my other with his tongue. He tried to squeeze a
handful of breast but he managed no more than an inch of my underdeveloped
pectoral then leaned in and sucked on it, nipple and all. Meanwhile, my
neglected southern friend was begging for release.

He let down my top. He looked me up and down oddly, reminding me of how
Uncle Jim looked at me that time I asked my dad about my balls. Greg pulled
me toward his face and tried to kiss me but I turned my head, wanting
nothing of the sort. He found a spot behind my right ear he nuzzled and
dragged his lips over, then licked. He lightly chewed on my earlobe,
causing my shoulders to shake with a shiver. I was in ecstasy.

"You liked me sucking your titties, didn't you," he breathed into my ear.

I did not answer; it was obvious. Wait a minute, I don't have titties! I
barely had time to finish the thought before he unbuttoned my shorts and
let them fall to the floor. My stiffness tented my undies to the right,
always to the right. He pulled up my tank top again, but I put my hand on
it to stop him; I wanted to watch. He very gently pushed my hand aside and
slowly nodded, as if to say it was okay, and I protested no more; I trusted
him. He raised my tank top all the way up and scrunched it before pulling
it behind my head, making it stay up out of the way. He sat back and
stared, looking up and down at my nearly naked body as he reached for his
own groin, not mine, and squeezed a couple times. His bulge was now
enormous.

Cool, we are going to jack off together as I had done with Mark barely two
hours before. I was fine with that, not even considering that what I was
doing is a sex act. I wasn't thinking about it at all, but just doing, or
allowing to be done what felt good, what felt right, what felt essential. I
reached into my undies and grabbed my stiffy.

"Unh-unh!" Greg chided as he pulled my arm, forcing me to release my
pleading dick. "Let me do that." I was frustrated, but I understood his
desire and acquiesced.

Greg doubled over and reached down, placing an open hand on each of my legs
near my ankles. He ran his hands up my downy fur-covered legs, barely
making contact, all the way to my undies then behind them to squeeze my ass
cheeks. My dick lurched; it was torturously sensuous. From there he went
around to my tummy and up and down my torso, giving each nipple a little
flick before heading south, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my
undies and drawing them down, carefully pulling the elastic over my
inflexible boyhood. He let them drop as I got my wish, standing naked in
front of another guy in this public restroom. Naughty doesn't begin to
describe how I felt. Why doesn't every boy do this? All the time?

I didn't consider Greg to be attractive, but he was fit, he does have a
penis -- saw that yesterday -- and right then he could've been President
Carter for all I cared as long as he kept doing what he was doing. That
penis. I wanted to see it again, but he reached up and loosely grabbed my
ballsack, rolling a testicle between his thumb and fingers just as I've
done to myself. I put my hand on his forearm; I was not going to let him
stop. He brought up his other hand, lightly caressed my hardness, retracted
my foreskin and stroked it up and down a couple times. I felt a familiar
burning inside, a rapid crescendo as I fully surrendered to his
ministrations. He pulled my dick down, away from me and pointed it toward
him, still fondling my balls. He looked cross-eyed staring at it so
closely, mouth agape, as if considering his next move. I felt detached,
watching this unfold in slow motion as he leaned forward and took me into
his warm oral enclave. My knees nearly buckled. I moved my hand from his
wrist to the partition to catch myself, for balance as he buried my dick to
the hilt, his face on my tummy. I was dizzy with delight, faint from
euphoria. This just isn't possible! Nothing can feel this good! He pulled
back and kept just my head in his mouth. I watched in awe as his cheeks
drew in; he was sucking! This is sucking! Forget blowjobs, this is heaven!

The crescendo passed the point of no return when his tongue tickled what I
would later learn is my frenulum. MY GAWD! I can't take this! I moaned
again, this time audibly as I pushed back into him. I wanted more. I wanted
all of me in his mouth. I came. Everything poured out of me and into his
mouth: my cum, my soul, my sinew, my essence. Push after delightful push
convulsed into his eager mouth. I moaned again, no, yelped like an excited
puppy, loud enough to wake the dead. Time stood still. I stood
motionless. There was absolute silence. Finally, I began breathing again. I
watched Greg swallow, and somehow that excited me. He wouldn't release me,
but when he moved slightly, I pulled back to free myself. It was extremely
ticklish, my boyhood feeling different than ever before.

"Sensitive?" Greg asked.

I looked at him puzzled, but couldn't answer. What the fuck had I done!

********************

Thanks for reading! I hope this was worth the wait. I tried my best to
convey the physical sensations of my first blowjob, something I'm sure
you'll agree we can never forget. It wasn't all roses for me, as I
indicated with the final sentence; but it wasn't as bad as that sentence
forebodes, either.

This chapter is now at probably around 19K, which as you know is much
longer than I like, so I must stop here. I will continue promptly with the
second part of this chapter and resume exactly where I left off.

Finally, I must again say how much I enjoy hearing from you. I'm not
fishing for compliments. As many of you know, after we got past that first
email with the obligatory attaboy, we have continued our pleasant dialogue.

-David