Date: Thu, 27 Sep 2001 23:09:57 +0100 From: flying scot Subject: Mr Dixon This story recounts my first real experience (with either a male or female) and have wanted to share it with other guys for a while now. If you have had similar experiences, feel free to drop me a line and tell me about it. I surely can't be the only one! flying_scot18@hotmail.com MR DIXON At the time, I was a bit out of control and think my folks found it difficult trying to stop themselves from tearing their hair out whilst I was growing up. During my teenage years I was particularly rebellious. I was the tough kid in class that you didn't mess with unless you had some kind of deathwish or were just plain dumb. I wasn't particularly violent, but just one of those kids that was always spoiling for a fight. I used to blame it on my circumstances. Being 15 and living in one of the most deprived areas in the north of England was bound to fuck you up. Or at least that's how I justified my behaviour back then. Soccer was my only escape from the boredom of living in that neighbourhood and I always looked forward to the after-school practice sessions each Tuesday and Friday afternoon. In fact, you could have called me soccer-daft. I always took my football with me to footie practice so I could have a kick-around on the way home. I was having one of these kick-arounds on the way home from practice one afternoon and was passing old man Dixon's house. He wasn't really old (in his early 50s I guess) but to us kids he was. Anyway, I'd lobbed the ball high and it landed in his back garden, which was covered in knee-high weeds and grass. It was going to ages to find it but I started searching for it when the guy opened the back door and asked what I was up to. I told him I was looking for my ball after which I found it by tripping over it as I spoke. As the grass and weeds were damp, I ended up soaking wet from the waist down. To my surprise, old man Dixon asked me if I wanted to come inside to dry off and offered me a beer (a beer for Christ's sake, at 15!!). Well of course I jumped at the offer. Inside his kitchen, Dixon cracked open a couple of beers and said I could dry my jeans off on his radiator. Glad to get out of the damn things I slipped them off and hung them over a radiator. I didn't really know this guy very well but he seemed cool and we chatted about football and stuff. I was however, aware that he seemed to be gradually edging closer to me until he was within a foot of me. I was standing against the sink and Dixon (standing in front of me) put his arm out and rested it on the sink behind me. He then (whilst still talking) put the beer down that he was holding in his other hand and ran it up my inside leg to the top of my boxer shorts. I freaked. I pushed him away and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing. He got a bit flustered but just said he was just messing around. I went to get my jeans and when I turned round, he threw an unopened pack of cigarettes onto the kitchen table. He said that would be for agreeing to keep the 'matter' to ourselves. Before I had time to reply, he threw another pack and followed this up by saying that I could also have this one as well if I let him mess around with me for just a few more minutes. Although the idea repelled me, not may 15 year olds ignore the offer of 2 packs of cigarettes lightly. I agreed and reluctantly let Dixon continue. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down my inside leg. His hand felt rough and cold. Then it reached further up towards my groin and eventually up the leg of my shorts. The back of Dixon's hand grazed my balls, which tightened at his touch. All the while I was looking straight ahead avoiding his stare, which I knew was fixed directly on me. His hand withdrew and then unbuttoned the fly of my boxers, allowing him space to investigate me further. I gulped heavily and noticeably as his hand slid into my shorts and found my dick. I could feel Dixon's breath against my neck and knew that that he was getting aroused beyond what would be considered natural in the presence of someone my age. I was fondled slowly but firmly until I was fully erect and then Dixon start to jerk me, but that proved too much and I grabbed my jeans and fled before he could get any further. I felt sickened and ashamed but selfishly pleased with my cigarettes. Over the next few days I got over my initial disgust and realised that this could be a regular source of smokes. I didn't really have to DO anything and it's not as if I was gay or anything, was I? So what was the problem I asked myself? The following week I eventually plucked up the courage to hang around near Dixon's house in full view of his kitchen window. He wasn't slow to notice. He opened his back door and he asked if I was out of cigarettes! He beckoned me into the kitchen and without a word threw another pack on the kitchen table. Less bashful this time I asked him what he wanted me to do. Less bashfully than last time, he told me to turn around, slip my jogging bottoms down and lean over the kitchen table. This I did. I felt Dixon's hands on my thighs grasping tightly on the waistband of my boxers, which he then slid slowly down my legs. Under his breath, I heard him remark how pleased he was to see that I had hairy legs, and he lightly ran his hand up and down them a few times. Despite being nervous, I felt a twinge in my cock and felt myself getting hard at the old man's touch. By the time he made his way to my balls, I was nearly fully stiff which didn't go unnoticed by Dixon. He took this as an indication that I was actually getting off on this, and whilst massaging my balls with one hand, he grabbed some kitchen roll and placed this on the table in front of me with the other. He squeezed my balls firmly but gently and then pulled then down, forcing the head of my uncut cock out of its foreskin. This, I recall thinking at the time, did arouse me. He asked if there was any need for the kitchen roll but I wasn't sure what he meant. He explained by asking if white stuff usually spurted out my dick after I jacked-off at home. After assuring them that it did, this seem to get him even more worked up as he grabbed my cock and started to jack me. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I shot. I earned my cigarettes and went on my way. I went back the following week. And the week after that, and the following week. Bizarrely, I visited old man Dixon once a week for about 2 and a bit years until he moved out of the area. Even more curiously, this routine was EXACTLY the same every single week. I would lean on his kitchen table, he would pull down my trousers and underwear and leisurely beat me off. Very occasionally, he varied it by unbuttoning my shirt when I wasn't wearing a t-shirt, and running a hand over my chest whilst fondling my dick. All of this in more or less complete silence. After about the third or fourth time, I really started to get off on it and would even fantasise about the old guy when jacking-off at home. Looking back on it, I wish Dixon had done more with me, but there you go. Anyway, I'm 27 now but Dixon has obviously made a lasting impression. I'm currently seeing a guy of 45 and haven't been with anyone around my own age for about 3 years.