Date: Sun, 2 Dec 2018 16:48:13 +0100 (CET)
From: David <lovebug69@tutanota.com>
Subject: David's World, Part 7-David and the Man Redux pt. 2

In this chapter, David continues his first sexual encounter.

This is a continuation of the first part of this chapter, picking up
immediately where it left off. In retrospect, it seems providential that
the man who unwittingly caused me such anguish just a day before was the
same man -- and a fellow naughty Mormon who understood me -- who helped me
through the turmoil caused by our next encounter.

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.

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-David, aka Lovebug

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

DAVID'S WORLD

PART SEVEN: David and the Man Redux pt. 2

[In the last chapter, David had his first actual sexual experience, a
blowjob from the man who terrified him just a day before. Immediately
after, David feels overpowering shame and remorse.]

I did it. IT IT IT! Fuck! I'm a fag. A FAG! I couldn't believe it. What the
fuck was I thinking? My Bishop, the church; I'm fucked. Dad, my friends;
I'm fucked. Mom; FuckFuckFucked! My dick had deflated in record time
despite Greg fondling it. It turtled like it does when I swim in cold
water, getting all wrinkly like all foreskin and no dick. I wasn't even
embarrassed that it looked like my little brother's penis; I didn't
care. Greg tugged on my foreskin. I reached behind my head to fix my tank
top but couldn't, so I pulled it off and got it back on properly then tried
to reach down for my undies & shorts.

Greg stopped me with a strong hand under my chest as I tried to bend over,
asking, "Woah, what's the hurry?"

I didn't answer, but straightened up and glared at him. He drew back his
hand to his knee and sat straight up, leaning forward a bit with both hands
on his knees. I tried again. I was quicker this time, grabbing my clothes
and yanking them up. Almost made it when again, Greg stopped me, reaching
out and blocking my shorts just below my waist, leaving my junk exposed. I
exhaled sharply in frustration. I turned, wanting to get out of there. He
stopped me again, grabbing the loose waist of my dangling shorts.

"David stop, wait a sec," he pleaded. "This is your first time, isn't it,"
he said knowingly. He sounded like he cared, not like he was teasing, but
it pounded home my realization that yeah, I DID IT AND NOW I'M A FAG. He
let go of my shorts but I didn't try to leave. I stood there with my back
to him, not wanting him to see me cry. I was choked up, tears on the way.

"It's okay David, you feel guilty, don't you," he stated.

How does he know?

"That's normal," he continued. "We always feel guilty right after. Give it
a minute and it'll go away, I promise."

I listened intently, hanging onto every word as he continued on about his
first time and about other boys, saying they all felt the same way at
first, and even after it's not their first time. He said he still feels
guilty but he gets over fast. It's just how it is, he explained. I did feel
guilty this morning after jacking off with Mark, and I got over that pretty
quickly, I thought. But I was still bothered.

I turned to face him. I asked, feeling a bit better, "Am I a fag?"

"You sure don't look like one, do you?"

I didn't, but I've never met a real-life fag. I only knew the ones on TV or
in movies, and they all talk funny, say their esses weird, and act like
girls. I'm not like that; I like BMX, baseball, and outdoors stuff.

"And I promise I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about,"
he reassured me. "I could tell you liked it David, almost as much as I
did."

"But I did-, I mean you didn't..."

"I didn't cum?" he interrupted. "Not yet, but I will. We're not done yet."

He grabbed my shorts and pulled me toward him. We talked some more as he
pushed my shorts & undies back down and let them fall to the floor. He
caressed my balls, now a tight little lump snuggled up beneath the base of
my growing dick -- which again reminded me of a turtle, now sticking out
its head as my foreskin filled with flesh.

Greg spoke and eased me through my unease, caressing my balls while my
again-rigid dick was still too sensitive to be touched. Perhaps due to
hormones, or perhaps due to his words, I felt better and that's all that
mattered. I started to feel naughty again. I slipped off my tank top and
draped it across the top of the paper dispenser. I played with my nipples
while I watched him. He had one hand on my balls and the other on his
bulge, squeezing and rubbing. I wanted to see his dick again, but I was
afraid to ask.

He looked up and saw me looking at his crotch. "You like this?" he asked,
giving it a good squeeze.

I didn't answer. Didn't have to. He stood up. I was chest-high to his six
feet-plus. His crotch was easily within reach, so I reached. I looked up,
he down. He gave a slight nod. I felt it, moving my hand all over, pressing
with my fingers trying to feel what was where. I found his dick, a hardness
bowing straight up. I was captivated; I was in disbelief that after staring
at so many crotches I was finally feeling one. It felt so different from
mine, so wrong, yet so right; but mostly, so naughty -- and I loved it. I
dragged my fingernails over his hardness, a trick I learned on myself, as
my fingernails over the tiny ridges in the taut denim cause a slight
vibration that feels incredibly good. Greg moaned and pulled back. I pulled
my hand back, thinking he didn't like it. He unbuttoned his 501s and pushed
them down, too tight to fall on their own. He wasn't wearing underwear.

Greg's dick sprang up and stood straight out, not up like a normal
dick. Weird. I thought it wasn't all the way hard, but it looked hard. It
was straight, about six inches and pretty thick. It leaned to the right a
little and had a very pink, slightly wrinkly head, not a purplish one like
mine. I could smell it again, that same smell as yesterday, and again my
mouth watered. It did not look as big as it did yesterday. I just stared,
so he grabbed it and stroked. He had tons of long black hairs, even on his
huge nuts, which were like a pair of jawbreakers in a hairy sack. I started
stroking my own dick, but I really wanted to touch his. I almost reached
for it. I started to ask. After what he had done to me, and after I felt
him up through his jeans, I should not have been scared, but I was. Maybe
it was another bridge to cross, I don't know. In retrospect, I believe I
thought there was a difference between passively allowing a guy to do
things to me and actively reciprocating.

"May I touch it please?" I finally blurted out.

Greg pulled his hand away and grinned.

I reached up and wrapped my hand around it. Weird! It felt way bigger than
it looked. It felt huge! I moved it around, aiming it left and right. It
was rigid alright. And soft. How can it feel so soft when it's so hard? I
tried to stroke it, but it just wouldn't work. He didn't have all the loose
skin that I did. I let go.

"How do you... you know, do it?" I asked.

"Oh, you mean because I'm cut?" he asked. "I just have to rub a little
harder," he explained. "And sometimes I use a little lube."

I thought of motor oil and how weird that would be, but okay. And cut? I
looked very closely at his dick. I wondered how he cut it. How could anyone
cut his dick? I leaned closer to get a better look, trying to find the
cut. I thought maybe the cut was hidden by all that hair.

"Where's the cut? How did you do it? Did it hurt bad?"

He didn't answer as I continued my exploration. The seconds ticking by
became an awkward silence, so I looked up. He looked at me strangely for
the longest time then started laughing. I mean really laughing. I had no
idea what was so funny. I looked at my dick, my tummy, arms... I took a
quick inventory. Why was he was laughing at me? Oh, I get it. Now that he
pulls out his big dick he's laughing at my little one. I grabbed my tank
top and slipped it on. I was leaving.

"Wait," Greg managed. "I di-" More laughter. "S-sorry. I didn't-" He was
laughing so hard he couldn't talk. He had a nice laugh, a very pleasant,
comforting laugh and like most laughter, it was contagious. I grinned,
still not sure about this. I couldn't help but start to laugh along with
him although I had no idea what I was laughing about. I looked down and saw
that both our dicks had gone down to about half-mast, both bouncing wildly
as we laughed. Finally, our laughter, like our hardness abated.

"Sorry," Greg managed.

More giggles.

"Look," he said. "I'm circumcised. Do you know what that is?"

"Of course," I answered. That's it, I thought, he was laughing at my
foreskin. I was starting to get upset again. I wish I had a normal dick.

"I'll just go then," I said, "Sorry about my weird foreskin," I said, not
really an apology but derision, the best I could come up with. I started to
reach down for my shorts.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he pleaded as he put his hand on my chest, once again
preventing me from dressing. He knew exactly what I meant. In late 1970s
Orange County, nearly all males -- and the few I had seen, except my
brothers -- were circumcised.

"I love your cock! I wish I wasn't cut, um, circumcised!" He giggled, just
once.

DingDingDing! I understood what he meant by cut. He meant circumcised!
That's what he was laughing about. I felt stupid, but I could take being
laughed at for that.

"Really?" I timidly asked. "You love it? Hmph." I tried to process all
this. I was thinking pretty slowly for a bright kid.

Greg sat on the toilet seat. With one hand around my balls and the other on
my butt, he pulled me into his mouth again. I was hard instantly, again
astonished by the indescribable sensations. I gasped -- I felt something
crawling around inside my foreskin. My dick lurched. My Gawd! Around and
around it went. My dick lurched again. He released me but he held my
slippery hardness in his hand. He pulled back my foreskin exposing my wet,
glistening head. He rubbed it all over his nose and inhaled deeply then
exhaled softly with a satisfied moan. He pulled on it, stretching the skin
back down causing a loose bunch at the tip. He tenderly nibbled on it and
forced his tongue inside, tickling my piss hole and the area under it. Wait
a minute, it was his tongue! It was his tongue crawling around under my
foreskin. He released me and straightened up, done for the moment with his
new play toy.

"How do you like your foreskin now?"

He stood again and pulled me toward him. He bent his knees so our dicks
made contact as he rubbed his back and forth into me. I watched our dueling
dicks and fought back, brushing mine back and forth. Wow! It was a unique
feeling having a dick touch me around my groin; his dick felt different
than a hand or fingers.

Greg stood up straight and wrapped both arms around me. He squeezed me
tightly then hugged me loosely with one arm and brought up a hand to raise
my chin so we were face to face. I thought he would try to kiss me again
and turned away. I remembered playing spin the bottle last summer just a
couple months ago when I ended up French kissing an older girl, the only
time I kissed anyone other than my mom or grandmother. Kissing the girl was
as exciting as it could be for a 12-year-old, pre-cum, naive boy but it did
nothing for me. I was so nervous! I didn't know what to do, and I guess I
wasn't very good at it because after we kissed I saw her whispering
something to her girlfriends while they all looked at me.

Greg was resolute. He turned my head back to face him, holding my chin in
his hand while he leaned in and gave me a quick, soft peck on the
lips. That wasn't so bad, I thought. He wasn't finished. We stayed face to
face and he kissed me again. He released my chin but I did not turn
away. He caressed the back of my neck and behind my ear, sending shivers
down my spine. He cradled my neck and kissed me again, this time pressing
hard against my lips, forcing them open with his tongue. He came in and
explored, running his tongue over my top teeth front and back before
searching out my tongue. He circled around and around mine before stopping
and resting on it. I realized what I was doing and felt naughtier than
ever! There is something taboo about French-kissing another guy that
excited me much more than the act itself. He pulled his tongue back and I
followed into his waiting mouth. I tried to do as he had done to me, but he
closed his lips tightly around my tongue and sucked. It wasn't unpleasant,
but it was a very odd sensation that startled me a bit, so I pulled back
and broke our kiss.

Apparently satisfied, Greg put his hands on the sides of my shoulders and
shuffled us around to switch places. He told me to sit as he lightly pushed
me down onto the toilet. I was staring right into his erect member and was
scared he wanted me to suck on it.

"I can't," I said.

"You don't have to," he said as pushed my legs apart and kneeled between
them. "I'm not done with you yet."

He ran his hands up and down my thighs, barely touching them with the
lightest caress. He continued inside my tank top to my nipples and gave
them their due. I was aching for more. He cupped my balls and tickled
behind them with his fingertips, attacking my third-favorite spot for
sensual pleasure -- my perineum -- as he leaned over and put my dick back
where it belonged, where it would always be happiest: his warm, soft
mouth. I could stay there forever. He reached farther back and found my
butthole, which was exposed as I sat on the toilet, and ran his fingers
ever so lightly around and over it. Shivers coursed throughout my entire
body. What was happening? It scared me and I clenched my butt cheeks. Greg
pulled back and released my dick with an audible pop.

"You like that?"

I eagerly nodded; I didn't want him to stop.

"Lean back," he demanded.

He pulled my legs to slide me forward. I leaned back against the wall, my
aching dick pointing back at me. He put his fingers on either side of my
balls and ran his fingertips lightly down both inner thighs, from the top
of my tight ball sack lightly caressing down my inner thighs to my knees,
then back. He rested his hands on my thighs before he leaned in and licked
the bottom of my dick then turned his head sideways to take my dick like a
dog carrying a stick, running his soft lips up and down my slippery
shaft. His chin brushed against my thigh, his sandpaper-like stubble
reminding me he was very much a man, turning me on even more at how naughty
I was. I felt funny, lightheaded. Everything was a bit of a gold-gray
swirl.

He pushed my legs farther apart and went down on my nuts, first licking the
most sensitive area where my nut sack meets my thigh, then pinching what
little loose skin he could find on my tight sack between his lips and
tugging. He took my entire sack into his mouth. MY GAWD! Never had my balls
felt such heat, such magnificent pleasure as he twirled his tongue around
and around, up and down, back and forth while softly gnawing on me with his
lips. He was consuming me, and I completely surrendered. I wanted him to
have me, to take every part of me. My chest and gut were aflutter, burning
with desire and newfound animalistic need. It was overwhelming. I felt
faint and tingly around my head and neck; my mouth was dry, and I got
scared. I pushed him back and he released my balls. I stood up, leaning
into the partition. He stood up with a look of fright. He pulled me to him,
embracing me in a bear hug, burying my face in his chest. I was
weak-kneed. I wrapped my arms around him as much to keep him from leaving
as for support.

"Dude," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

I was too choked up with overpowering emotions to answer, but I nodded and
began to weep, unable to speak. I thought of his mouth on my balls and
nothing else. I was numb, but I was raw; I was overwhelmed.

"David?" "It's okay," he began. "It's normal to feel bad, like I
said. It'll go away, just give it a minute."

I shook my head. I wasn't feeling guilt, but a more powerful, happy
emotion. My tears were joyful, not sad. At 12 years old, I was simply too
immature to handle the physical and emotional powerhouse of feelings I'd
been subjected to over the last 15 minutes. I looked up at him, and he at
me; we locked eyes. I was feeling better. As fast as it hit me, whatever it
was had left me. He wiped my tears with his thumb.

"We should go," Greg suggested.

"Please?" I begged. That's all I could muster.

He caressed my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair. I was standing on
my own, having regained my strength. He got back onto his knees and took me
in as I remained standing. He grabbed my hips and pulled me in and out of
his mouth. Something came over me and I began pushing in and out without
his guidance. It was visceral, just so right that it couldn't be wrong. I
felt the burning behind my balls and knew I was on my way. Balls. I had to
do that again! I stopped and pulled out. Greg looked up at me, puzzled. I
thrust my hips forward and covered my dick, pressing it to my body, doing
my best to offer him my balls.

"Please?" I asked again.

I didn't have to ask twice. I marveled as he opened wide and took my entire
sack into his mouth. I was in heaven! Having my balls in his mouth was
better than my dick in his mouth, but I couldn't leave my dick alone. I
began stroking with one hand and caressing a nipple with the other. Three
or four strokes and my perineum cramped like a Charlie horse; my butthole
clamped down tightly; my eyes watered, blurring my vision; my mouth
watered; and my tummy quivered. It transcended awe, exceeded ecstasy; this
was rapture!

"Oh. Oh. OOOOOH!" I couldn't help it. I squealed as a canon fired from
where I once had a penis. It exploded! It HURT yet it didn't hurt. My
insides gushed like a raging river from my heaving rod. Greg released my
balls and engulfed my fountain to catch whatever I had to offer, which was
everything I had. I thrust again without realizing. Time was in a warp as
this went on and on; seconds felt like minutes. I leaned forward with both
hands on Greg's shoulders for support as this blissful orgasm finally
ended.

I was spent. I had nothing left, as my body had surrendered its all. I
plopped down on the toilet panting, exhausted. Greg stood and furiously
pumped his dick before me. I had no interest, but I couldn't look away.

"Play with my balls," he urgently begged.

I did. I tried to do as he had done to me, reaching my fingers behind his
sack and tickling. It was incredibly warm back there. His furry balls felt
heavy bouncing against my fingers as he desperately worked toward his own
climax.

"I'm... gonna... cum!" he announced.

Weird. I know he's gonna cum; that's why he's stroking. Why else would he
do it?

Greg exhaled and moaned loudly as he shot buckets of gooey white globs
everywhere. He shot hard! The first one hit the partition and
splattered. The next whizzed past my head into the beyond. Another hit the
partition, then one hit my neck. It was like hot, sticky honey. He was wild
as a rookie pitcher in his first game, squirting all over the place. It
smelled weird, too, reminding me of some cleaner my mom uses. His was way
different than mine or Mark's spunk.

 "Sorry," he said after he finally stopped. "That was awesome."

I agreed, but said nothing.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Dirty," I answered, thinking of the cum stuck to my neck, tickling as it
ran slowly down onto my shoulder. But I felt okay, not as bad as after the
first time just minutes ago. `We always feel guilty, but it passes
quickly,' he had said. Maybe this would be okay after all.

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

Thanks for reading! David had a hell of a few days since meeting library
boy, but he survived it and had some unexpected fun along the way. David
will have another experience -- this time with Bruce -- before he learns to
keep his dick in his pants for a while.

Greg Frandsen was truly the right person for my first sexual experience. He
understood my turmoil and helped me through it. I did feel remorse, I did
feel shame, but thanks to Greg I knew the worst of it would pass quickly
and the rest I would deal with later.

-David