Date: Thu, 22 Nov 2018 12:43:43 +0100 (CET) From: David Subject: David's World, Part Two-David Meets a Boy In this chapter, David learns about and deals with his new desires, then he his nearly seduced by another boy. I let this chapter get too long, so I've divided it into subchapters. If you want to skip the last lengthy narrative of David's coming of age, scroll down to "MEETING A BOY" to read about what was probably the strongest sexual tension of my entire life. 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 consider 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 TWO: David Meets a Boy [In the last chapter, David masturbates without realizing it and has his first orgasm, a wet one. This chapter begins on the following day.] UNDERSTANDING AND COMING TO TERMS I was a wreck all day at school, couldn't concentrate on anything but what happened yesterday. I was anywhere between half-hard and full-boner much of the day. I was sure glad we weren't yet dressing out for PE (Physical Education). Oh, no! What if I'm still getting boners all the time when we have to dress out for and shower after PE next week? And when hanging with my buds at recess, we stood around outside talking as usual, but for me it was somehow different. I couldn't help staring at Bruce's crotch in his tight 501s. He caught me looking twice but he didn't say anything. When I showered this morning I got rock-hard trying to wash under my foreskin, so I was afraid to touch it, still not sure what I did to it yesterday. That was weird, can't be normal. I wasn't sure I hadn't broken something. I thought about asking my dad, but I was still embarrassed about that time a couple years ago (before I learned everything in sex ed) when I asked him what my balls were for. My friend and I had talked about it after I end-o'ed my bike and hit my nuts on the gooseneck. We concluded that for balls to be so sensitive and capable of such agonizing pain, they must be some sort of nerve center. "Dad, can I ask you a question I can't ask a girl?" "Uh... yeah... what's up Champ?" he reluctantly asked after a long pause during which he looked at Uncle Jim, sitting in the recliner across the room, as if to say "Uh oh." Seems dad was not very eager to have `the talk' with me. "What are your balls for? Are they nerves?" He looked me up and down, sizing me up as if he hadn't seen me in years. "I don't know about yours, Davey, didn't know you got your balls already. But mine are babymakers. A man's balls make sperm." "What do you mean `Got my balls'? I've always had balls!" I could feel I was blushing. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I looked over at Uncle Jim. He said nothing, just stared at my crotch as I stood there in a t-shirt and too-tight shorts that revealed a bit of what I was packing. I was a growing boy whose clothes were always too small it seemed, and clothing styles of the late 70s had very tight crotches. At the time I didn't understand what a salacious look was, but in a couple years I would learn that and much more from my favorite uncle. After school, I rode my bike the half-mile or so to the huge public library in Central Park to read what I could about what had happened (remember, this was long before internet). What an education! I learned I had masturbated to orgasm yesterday, that I ejaculated or "came." I didn't break anything or harm myself in any way! I read about the usual way to masturbate that I couldn't wait to try: gripping my dick and stroking it up and down. Wow, what a good idea! Nipples are an "erogenous" zone (never heard that word before), so that explains why it felt so good to play with them as I squeezed my dickhead. Oh, now I'm embarrassed that not long ago on a troop outing shortly after discovering nipple play, I reached my fingers into the sides of my tank top and played with my nipples in front of everyone, asking if they ever did it because it feels so good. I just wanted to share a cool discovery, but nobody said anything. Now I wonder what the older boys and my Scoutmaster thought. And that magic spot between my balls and my butthole I was sitting on? It's my "perineum," another e-zone. So for my first time masturbating I did pretty well, hitting three major e-zones: my dick, my nipples, and my perineum all at once. My orgasm didn't stand a chance. Some of the books read like a how-to manual, and from one of them I learned gay men often hook up in public restrooms, something that would soon lead to my first sexual encounters. One book said one in ten boys is gay, so that meant they must be everywhere, that I couldn't be the only one... Wait a minute, am I gay? That sudden realization hit me hard. I put down the book and left the library head down, then slowly rode my bike home, lost in thought. In the next few weeks I found excuses to stay home from church, and my parents were okay with it. My dad didn't go, after all. I had my own bedroom, so every chance I had I honed my jack-off skills and got pretty good at it. I started fantasizing a little bit, thinking about faces of cute boys, crotches of tight pants, and of course that huge, hard, spermy man-dick from the magazine -- but I did not fantasize about any sex act. The only sex acts I knew of were penis-in-vagina which did not excite me, perhaps because I learned of it in purely clinical terms in sex ed, and gay oral and anal sex I read of in library books. I couldn't imagine why someone would want do any of it. I visited that three-story, regional library after school at least three days a week. I was careful so nobody would catch me in the gay section where I quickly grabbed books to read in another area, as I was too embarrassed and scared to ever check out a gay book. I sat at an isolated table to read, and when I got up for something I carefully covered the gay books with my school notebooks and folders or other books. I read Anita Bryant had recently said a boy isn't gay until he has sex with another boy or man. So I'm not gay yet. Am I? It might just be normal boy curiosity (I did get a boner looking at the titties on the magazine cover, right?) But I also realized that even though I'd had girlfriends, I didn't feel the same about them as I did about guys. There were so many boys I liked to just look at, especially at the tight crotches that were everywhere. MEETING A BOY One afternoon I noticed a blonde kid sitting alone a half-level below me, so I chose a spot where I could look at him through the railing. He was older, probably just starting high school, while I had just started seventh grade. He was so cute. He was bigger than me with straight blonde hair but not surfer-type, more like a bowl cut; he wore an Izod three-button shirt tucked into -- what else -- tight 501s, which were ubiquitous in those days; and he was tan, with sparkling blue eyes and pearly white teeth. He was facing sideways from me, so I could stare without him noticing. And stare I did. He really made me want to jack off, even though I didn't really know what I wanted to do with him. I wanted to see him in his underwear, maybe even play with his nipples, but more than that I just wanted to look at him. I really wanted a good look at his crotch. Oh gosh, I was hard in my OP shorts, which I knew didn't conceal my excitement very well today with my new, a bit too-large and baggy Y-fronts underneath. Why hadn't I worn an old pair that were tight? I tried to stop looking at that cute boy and get back to my reading, but occasionally I sensed someone watching me and I looked up to catch him quickly looking away. I think he is checking me out! Then I realized from where he was sitting he could easily see the tent in my shorts under the table. He wasn't interested in me, I thought, but probably just laughing inside at my embarrassment. That was enough to deflate my dick, so I got up and went downstairs to the drinking fountain. When I returned, the kid was gone and there was a folded scrap of paper sitting on my books. I opened it. "I think your really hot meet me at the phones p.s. I'm a guy" I swallowed hard. I think my swallow was audible throughout that quiet section of library. I looked around and didn't see anyone watching me; indeed, I didn't see anyone at all in that part of the highly-segmented library. I was hard, again -- very hard, so I surreptitiously reached down my shorts and pulled my dick up to where was held against my mostly-smooth pubis by the waistband of my undies. Now my boy pride was pretty well-hidden by my t-shirt. That usually worked well as long as it stayed rigidly hard, but if it softened a little it would fall down to the side and make a large, obvious tent worse than if I had left it pointing down. The possibility that this cute boy was into me was enough to keep me hard, so I took a chance. I walked by the phone booths on my way to get another drink of water. He was there, seated in a booth, holding the phone but not even pretending to be using it, his other hand resting in his lap. Nice crotch, nice little lump his fingers rested on. I stopped and raised a hand to a pillar for balance as I bent my knee and raised my foot to scratch my ankle, giving me an excuse to stop and take him in. He looked down at his hand in his lap and lightly but obviously ran his fingers over the small bulge in his jeans. I looked up at his face and found him trying to look at my crotch, hidden behind my shirt. He looked up and met my gaze. I quickly looked away and walked off, wondering if he could tell I had a boner. Now I wanted him to see it. I looked back, and he was still looking at me, smiling. I took my time getting another drink then looked back at the phones. He was gone. The note must have been from him, I thought, and he had been checking me out. I was so fucking horny I had to do something. I wanted to go to the restroom to jack off, but I wanted more to be with this guy, maybe show each other our boners. I might have found a fag. I had never seen a real-life fag before. I decided to go back to my books and see what happens. I returned to find he had moved to my table and was now sitting directly across from me. I avoided eye contact as I sat and pretended to read. I was trembling with trepidation. What was happening? What should I do? We sat in silence for several minutes, and although I felt him looking at me, I couldn't look up from the book I was pretending to read. Mercifully breaking the tension, he finally spoke. "You go to O.V.?" he asked, referring to the high school a few blocks away. "No, I'm in seventh grade. I go to Park View." "Oh, you look older," he complimented, perhaps knowing that would flatter any adolescent boy. "What are you reading?" I blushed. I could feel the heat around my neck and face as I feared he had noticed the gay books I'd been reading. "Just `Call of the Wild' for school," I lied, holding up the book I earlier had the forethought to grab to use as cover, should I need it. "I read that last year in eighth grade in Thompson's class," he said. "Good book, and Mr. T is a great teacher." I just nodded. We -- mostly he -- continued talking about generally nothing, but I did learn he was new to the area and we had no common friends, and that he would soon be moving again after his dad finished some temp job. I was becoming more comfortable, thinking if he learned my new secret and if we played whatever game we were dancing toward, my friends and family would never know. I still couldn't keep eye contact with him and looked away whenever he looked into my eyes. I was still painfully hard. "I thought you were reading these other books," he said as he reached across the table and picked up one titled "The Boys from Boise." I denied it, trying to act surprised and saying the books were there when I got here. We sat in silence a few minutes. I continued feigning interest in the London novel while he doodled on his Pee Chee folder. I started to again sneak glances over the book at his cute face, watching him sometimes contort, even sticking out and biting his tongue as he tried to get his drawings just right. One doddle looked like a penis before he scribbled over it, blacking it out. He was oh, so cute! He caught me looking at him a couple times. Finally, he asked, "You wanna go outside and do something?" "Like what?" "I don't know, something stupid. My friend spent the night last week and we did something really stupid," he said, his voice trailing off wistfully. "Yeah, I guess. I have to go home pretty soon anyway." I still didn't know for sure he was the one who left me the note. He didn't look or act at all like a fag. But out in the park there were trees and bushes everywhere. I had already jacked off in the bushes a couple times in my fledgling masturbatory career. We could take a shortcut through the bushes and see what happens, I thought. That's it! Maybe we can jack off together! I did not realize I just had my first sex-act desire. Perhaps too excitedly, I hastily gathered my notebooks and left the library books on the table. He grabbed his Pee Chee folder and shoved his pencil in his pocket. With his thumb in his pocket and fingers over his crotch he gave his dick a couple squeezes through his jeans. I was nervous and scared but still rock-hard with anticipation. Outside in the park, we started down an asphalt path, one of many trails that weaved throughout. We were mostly silent as we walked with an unspoken -- and to me, still uncertain -- purpose. I asked what he and his friend did that was so stupid. "Just something stupid, really stupid," he began. "My friend sneaked in through my bedroom window after everyone went to bed. He brought a Playboy he got from his dad's bathroom. We started looking at it, and he started rub--" "I found magazines in my dad's bathroom!" I stupidly interrupted, "But they weren't Playboy, I've never seen a Playboy. One even had pictures of a naked man with a boner!" He didn't say a word, but he stopped walking and looked long into my eyes. I looked away, blushing again as I realized what my comment about looking at naked man photos revealed about me. We were near a public restroom, one of many scattered throughout the park. "I gotta pee," he said as he trotted across the gravel to the restroom. I followed right behind him. The doorway was in the left corner with the door propped and locked open. Straight in front of the doorway on the opposite wall were two sinks with a stainless steel mirror/backsplash. He had set his folder on the edge of a sink. There was a single metal partition sticking out about two feet from the wall on the right of the sinks, separating them from two side-by-side urinals. Next to the urinals were two crappers, each in typical metal-walled stalls with doors. He walked up to the urinal on the right and stood sideways in front of it while unbuttoning his jeans, as if to let me watch, saying he had to pee real bad. Just as he pulled down his white underwear with both thumbs, he turned to face the urinal, denying me even a glimpse. I didn't hear splashing so I don't think he was pissing, but with the humming of an exhaust fan above I couldn't be sure. My mind was racing and tortured with not knowing what to do. I was still hard, so I couldn't hide it if I joined him at the adjacent urinal. But is that what he wanted? I decided I could sort of hide my boner with my right hand if I pushed it down with my thumb and aimed it at the urinal, so I got up the nerve, set my folders on his and took a step forward just as he backed up, probably thinking I wasn't going to join him. As he turned and brushed past me, I got just a glimpse of a nice lump in his Y-fronts above his partly unbuttoned 501s. He too was hard! "I gotta sit down," he said as he moved to the stalls. My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry; I was scared shitless. I wanted to do "something stupid" but I couldn't. If he started something I was ready to do anything he wants, but I just couldn't initiate it -- and all I really wanted was to see his dick and jack off. So I stood at the urinal and released my hardness. Oh, the relief! I stood there lightly caressing my dick and balls, enjoying the building tinglies, hoping he would come back to the urinals and catch me being naughty. "There's no toilet paper in here. Hand me some paper, dude," he pleaded. I tucked away my boner then zipped and buttoned. Both stall doors were open. He wasn't in the first stall, so I grabbed a wad of paper then in what seemed like slow-motion I made my way around into his stall. OH. MY. FUCK! He was sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles, making no effort to hide his beautiful, hard, skyward-pointing dick. I froze, drinking in this intoxicating sight. His clearly-defined balls hung loosely like two large grapes in their smooth, hairless pouch. He held his bunched-up shirt high up, pressed between his upper arm and chest -- as if to make sure I got a good look. His groin was milky white in stark contrast to his tan, flat tummy and tan mid-thighs. His light brown pubes looked like a little wig behind his dick, his oh, so lovely dick, at least an inch longer than mine and thicker, but still a lot smaller than the only other hard dick I had ever seen, the one in the magazine. I liked this one much, much more. Gawd, he was so hot. My dick strained against my shorts, begging for release. Just looking at this magnificent sight gave me a tingling in my groin like when I'm about to cum. I wanted to touch his dick, to play with it, and I wanted him to touch with mine. And although I couldn't understand why, I wanted to put my mouth on it. To lick it. This one, right now. I wanted to put my mouth on his dick and my dick in his mouth. He broke my trance when he reached up for the paper I was holding, still making no effort to hide his pride. He grabbed the paper and my hand, pulling me toward him as he spread his legs, giving me an even better view of his balls. I was consumed by delightful lust for what must be a 14-year-old boner and balls on one of the cutest boys I'd ever met. He released my hand and stood, letting the paper fall to the floor. He put his hands on my shoulders as we both looked down at his hardness, his beautiful rigid cock, throbbing as it pointed upward as much as outward. "You wanna do something really stupid?" he whispered. I unbuttoned my shorts and fumbled for the zipper. I broke free of the nervous fear which bound me. I was ready to partake of that forbidden fruit so seductively displayed before me when we heard footsteps and voices approaching the bathroom. I was still zipped and decent, so I buttoned, grabbed my folders and was out of that place lickety-split, just before a man entered while a woman waited for him outside. The guy looked at me as we passed, and I was sure he knew what I was doing in that restroom with that beautiful boy whose name I did not even know. The woman looked at me and smiled, surely knowing too what I had been about to do. I had to get out of there. I jogged back to the library for my bike, looking back frequently to see if my missed lover emerged, but he did not. I unlocked my bike and rode past the restroom on my way home but still did not see him, and after nearly getting caught, I was too scared to go back into that restroom. I would never see that boy again. Between when I got home a few minutes later and finally falling asleep that night I jacked off six times -- a single-day record I've tied a few times but have never broken. I still think of that boy occasionally and jack off thinking about what could have been. ******************** Thanks for reading! David is now a very horny and frustrated 12-year-old boy, but he will have his first sexual contact soon, I promise. If you think it's frustrating to read, just imagine how frustrating it was for me to experience. I love to hear from you! Anyone else have such a frustrating experience?