It Really Wasn't Planned

A homoerotic tale by Anthony Thomas that's not for children

Chapter One

[So if you're classified as a child in your state please go away and come back when old enough to read about such things as M-to-M sex, S&M practices, Water sports and all the rest For all others -- I hope you enjoy]

They do say you never forget your first time and that is certainly true for me. I just don't know how long I sat back on my ankles staring in wonder at that seemingly solid black rod standing proud from the little bush of crinkly black hair decorating his groin and the totally pink glans protruding so invitingly at the tip.

`You can touch it you know. It won't break.'

I hardly dared to breathe and almost had to force my hand stretch forward to run fingers lightly along its length. Then, I was momentarily in heaven, all my dreams had been leading toward this point and even so it was all so much more exciting than I had dared to imagine. I could feel the heat rising from his body and the blood coursing back and forth thought his cock as i used one hand to daringly grip it loosely and the other gently cupped his heavy ball sac. He didn't object, just made some low noise and pushed against my grip. There was no choice, my face moved forward, almost of its own accord, mouth open and desperate for its first experience of forbidden fruit.

As my tongue reached out to lick under his shaft the taste and smell almost overwhelmed and my lips closed softly round the tip. His hands reached forward to rub against my nipples where, no doubt encouraged by my groans, he changed the action to fingers nipping and pinching. I pushed harder against his fingers, sliding that throbbing black cock deeper inside my mouth.

`Harder,' he asked.

I nodded and sucked firmly in response, almost choking myself in the action. My own cock was straining rigidly against its confining jock at the thought, taste and achievement of finally experiencing another's mans tool in my mouth and as he pinched and pulled at my now engorged nipples I had to pull my mouth away in fear I would bite as it exploded, filling and soaking my jock with shot after jerking shot of hot steaming cum.

I think he knew at once as he asked in a disappointed voice. `You've cum?'

I nodded, while moving one hand to squeeze and fondle my cooling tacky cock and balls through the thin material, bringing the sticky hand back up to rub over my mouth and lick its palm, while the other continued to gently massage his balls.

`Oh you really were ready to blow,' he continued, `you do look cute doing that. Can you continue while I jack myself off?'

`Don't you want me to carry on? I asked, `was I doing it wrong?'

`You sure you're OK with that?'

I wasn't aware back then that my inclination, even need, to carry on playing after I'd shot a load put me in the minority, a very small minority.

`I'm convinced you can make me,' I smiled with cum covered lips while pulling slightly on his balls.

`Like this?' He stretched his arm rapidly and slapped my face lightly.

I made no reply, managed not to flinch or pull back to any great extent, just looked into his face and reached for his wrist with the hand he'd just knocked away from my face and manoeuvred it to slap me again.

I just had time to see a grin spread out to cover his whole face, white teeth glinting through the red lips against his brown skin, eyes shining, as he easily pulled his hand free and wrapped it tightly in my hair, forcing my head and happily open mouth back down on that beautiful black cock.

`You may have turned up here almost a virgin but if this goes the way I hope I'll be fucking you in that pub one night soon after all'

I didn't have time to think that comment through to its conclusion right then being more concerned not to choke and as I learnt how to service a cock with my mouth but somehow the very idea didn't shock me as it had earlier, even thrilled me a little bit.

You probably won't believe me, , but what followed over the next couple of years really wasn't planned; I can assure you that the thought of becoming a member of what some would call the oldest profession had never entered my mind until a few days after my nineteenth birthday when a John suggested that it was indeed the case. I'd always considered that a profession was something you had to slog and train for and the fact that some men were happy to take me out for meals, maybe a show, after a while gifts often followed by money if the relationship lasted, I'd merely considered a gratifying adjunct to what had become an enjoyable occupation. It sure beat nights spent alone in my little bedsit.

London opened her arms and took me in at a busy main line railway station then immediately abandoned me to find my own way through its myriad delights and frustrations shortly after my eighteenth birthday, when I escaped from my inflexible upbringing to take up a three year IT course, still practically a virgin in more ways than one. No doubt my Aunt and Uncle meant well but a stern and secluded Presbyterian childhood left serious gaps in my education when it came to social skills, life away from the windy moors, and, most importantly, sex.

Ah! Sex! Don't bother to ask. Ever since my application had been accepted that one aspect of my hoped for transformation from country yokel, admittedly one with a full crop of A levels, to suave man about town had filled a rather large portion of my daily dreams, not to mention my sleeping ones. My Aunt couldn't understand why I was so insistent on accepting the scholarship offered in London, a city full of sin and depravity she was sure, rather than a nearby town where I could lodge with a family of her acquaintance and return home at weekends.

I could hardly tell her that I needed to escape from her suffocating best intentions and further that I'd go mad if the only opportunities that arose for sexual experimentation were restricted much longer to self exploration out on the moors with always the chance of a passerby, or by reading the scribbling that appeared from time to time on the walls of a public toilet in a park near the town library offering the uninitiated young man I was unimaginable dreams of delight if only I could return in the early hours. The problem was I had no excuse of visiting the town at night even if I dared and though I could imagine only too well what might, hopefully would, happen to me if only I was able to return at the appointed hour the option never arose. The past couple of weeks since my plans to leave this restrictive atmosphere had finalised I'd found myself to be in an almost continuous state of at least partial arousal as my fevered imagination multiplied those crude messages and the few magazines I'd been bold enough to purchase on occasional trips to another town that resided locked in my briefcase into the cornucopia of pleasure I was sure awaited me once I managed to find my way round the big city.

As things turned out it was on my first day that an opportunity arose and then I nearly blew it in my ignorance. Actually moving to live in a big town rather than the quick in and out visit I had made for my interview only proved to me how much I had to learn. Luckily my grant and the small income I was now receiving from my parent's estate meant I was financially secure and had no need to search for part time employment to keep my head above water. The college had arranged rooms for me in a nearby lodging house and I had several days to get myself sorted before lectures started and actual work would be required. Even so, if I'd not literally bumped into John my first evening those first weeks of a new life would not have been so straightforward. I had no idea how to go about obtaining any of the necessities of life from food to text books, furnishings, laundry, transport, let alone entertainment.

I was backing out of my bedsit dragging a sack filled with packaging when I bumped into something soft that gave with a grunt and a thud. Looking round in dismay I discovered a young black man lay spread out on the floor with a surprised look on his face. The Yorkshire fells weren't completely on another world, but this was the first time I'd come across a black man my own age face to face, not to mention warm and alive, not in a magazine. I just froze and stood staring down at him, probably not helped by the fact his only clothing was a skimpy pair of running shorts the same make as my own and an old pair of trainers.

He sat up slowly with a grunt, `I hope you don't always back onto people like that, might give them the wrong idea.' Then continued as he rose slowly to his feet looking me up and down at the same time, `or maybe the right idea.' Like I told you, in my ignorance I didn't catch the undertones in his language, not then or for the next couple of days.

`Are you OK?' I finally managed to recover at least part of my senses and hold out a hand to help him rise while dragging my eyes away from his groin and up to his face. That didn't help matters much. His face momentarily mere inches away I was sure I felt his breath on my cheek, his teeth when he smiled a brilliant while against his smooth dark brown skin. I was mesmerised and when, after a moment he pulled back and our eyes met, deep and dark enough to drown in, I was hooked.

I knew there was no chance, or so I thought, but right then I knew exactly what I wanted to happen. For us to go into my room and there he would educate me into the pleasures of sex with another warm bodied person, teach me the reality of my dreams, rather than relying on my hands, the top of an old broomstick and a vivid imagination.

I became aware he was talking and I'd not heard a word. `Sorry! I was daydreaming, bad habit of mine. What did you say?'

`Looked like you were enjoying your dream anyway. I was asking if you wanted a hand down with what I suppose is rubbish and if you've also got a room here because of doing a course down the road.'

I replied in the affirmative and as he helped me carry the bag down and showed me where the bins were in our general chit chat discovered more about me than I did of him apart from the fact this was his second year so he knew where everything was and he'd be glad to help me out. That night he was due out but a quick tour round the local streets showed me where to shop for food and stationary and suchlike. After helping me back with what seemed a mountain of food he promised to look me up the next day if I wished and after agreement on time disappeared with a cheeky grin and, `Welcome to London. Sweet dreams.'

Sweet dreams indeed! After a snack followed by a quick trip to the communal bathroom down the hall I took myself off to bed not expecting to sleep for excitement mixed with apprehension as to what the next few days would bring but actually I was so exhausted I fell into a deep sleep almost at once without having a chance to indulge in my usual bedtime pleasure.

I was running somewhere following or chasing a dark nebulous body, my cock was hard and tight against my shorts as I tried to get it more comfortable by lengthening my stride but still was unable to catch the body just out of reach. I knew if I could only touch it everything would be alright. The drums came out of nowhere, getting louder and louder.

I woke with a start; sheets wrapped round me and cock hard through thin cotton shorts in my hand. Somebody was knocking on my door and as I came more fully awake noticed I'd been asleep for almost twelve hours and sunlight was now pouring through the curtain less window. With a struggle I managed to extract myself and half hobble to the door grabbing a towel on the way to try and hide what was now a piss hard erection tenting my shorts.

Opening the door I discovered John dressed in a T, baggy cargo shorts, socks and trainers and even though I now needed the bathroom badly I also was aware of my wish he would accompany me there.

`Thought you'd never wake up, I nearly knocked the door down. Better get a move on, it's a lovely day out there and we've got lots to do.'

I still wasn't fully awake otherwise I might have noticed the way he was checking out my body and the only partially hidden problem between my legs. `Sorry, I was tired and overslept. Can you give me an half an hour, I need to wash, breakfast and dig out something to wear. I've not even finished unpacking yet.'

`Ten minutes,' he replied, `we can grab breakfast down the road while working out where what's needed to make your room more liveable.'

Somehow I didn't object and only a little late we ensconced in a surprisingly clean cafe ten minutes walk from our rooms enjoying s decent breakfast and compiling a list of requirements. At least, John was.

Curtains, cushions, kettle, hotplates, `you won't want to be using the communal kitchens after the house fills up and any food you leave down there will probably vanish.' Small fridge if you can afford it, the list went on and on and I started to wonder if he knew I had extra money available somehow. `And some new clothes so you stop looking quite like the country bumpkin I know you aren't.'

I knew my clothes were staid; my Aunts idea of casual was slacks and a jacket and always a tie. I had one pair of jeans she would have been horrified to see me wearing unless working in the garden but wasn't sure I was quite ready for John's ideas of dress just yet. Even so, all he had to do was place an arm round my shoulder or grab my hand and we were off from one shop to another almost melting my debit card and getting no surcease from regular trips back home to unload as he would always drag me back out until, finally, around six he flopped down on my bed, the chairs being covered in packets, `that's it then. Do hope I've not forgotten anything.' Much as I enjoyed his presence I did wish he'd not leave his legs so wide open allowing me an almost uninterrupted view up inside his shorts to the bulge so prominently displayed by the taught material where those legs met.

`Sorry I've got to go out this evening, prior engagement, but I'll call back tomorrow if you like. Give you time to get everything sorted and decide on some decent clothes to wear.'

`Not much money left,' I carefully replied. I wanted John to call back, to do more than just that but had been brought up to be careful and my Uncle had taught me that nobody ever puts themselves out to be too useful unless they want something. It just never crossed my mind what John might actually be after.

`That's OK. Thought I'd show you round the colleges, where everything is, and then maybe a pub lunch.' I hesitated, more because I'd never been in a pub and didn't know what a pub lunch would consist of but he must have misunderstood. `On me,' he continued, jumped up and out of the door before I got a word in.

And that's just what happened. I filled the last Saturday night I spent alone for the next couple of years unpacking, sorting and clearing, wondering if I'd ever dare wear half the clothes he'd talked me into buying. They all seemed too tight and revealing where flesh was actually covered, but then again I'd seen much worse as we'd raced about and nobody seemed shocked. London was definitely very different from Yorkshire; I'd just have to make sure I kept one set of clothes for any possible return visits.

Sunday morning started much as had the previous day, John knocking on my door to wake me from an erotic dream with a piss hard that in other circumstances I would have loved to play around and take care off. He struck me as almost half naked in a denim jacket with no sleeves, cargo shorts and trainers. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I reached out and touched his body with my hand as I so dearly wanted to.

`Go and get washed,' he was the one to reach out and push my shoulder, did his hand linger there a little longer than was really necessary? `I'll sort you out something to wear.' He just walked into my room as if he owned it and I rushed of down the hall for some quick ablutions and return. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, just that I wanted to see him again, that sexy natural grin, smooth dark skin, and, yes, that interesting bulge between his legs. I kept telling myself not to be stupid, not to mess up what looked like the first friendship I'd known, he couldn't be gay and would only be disgusted if he knew I was. But? Even so I hurried back.

When I saw what John thought would be suitable clothing for my first visit to the college I expected to be spending a considerable amount of time in over the next three years, not to mention actually be walking the streets in, I almost had a fit.

`I can't walk outside dressed like that.'

`Of course you can,' was his prompt reply. `You've got the body and proportions to look good whatever you wear , all these do is show you off and it always pays to advertise bro.'

So he thought I looked good did he? Should I read my own ulterior motives into that comment? The very thought made me twitch under the towel around my waist and I quickly turned my back to drop the towel and dress as he'd suggested before that twitch became something that couldn't be so easily hidden. I'd never been ashamed to be seen naked when changing and showering after sports but there was something much more intimate about John sitting in my desk chair, outlined against the sun beaming in through the now opened curtains watching as I did so.

I could feel the heat from that sun already and there was some sense I supposed in his choice of clothing though if he'd not been so patiently waiting and I'd not been so flustered the very thought of walking around dressed like that would have horrified me. A black jockstrap covered by dark blue thin rugby style shorts I couldn't really remember purchasing, sleeveless white tee covered by a thin dark blue top, trainers and liner socks. That was it, I felt half naked, even more than that when I considered where we were going, but at the same time a sort of freedom and began in a strange way to look forward to walking around in the open where other people could see me.

I knew John was correct when he said I had a decent body, if fact now when I thought back he wasn't the first one to say so. Five foot ten inches more or less, decent looking as I enjoyed sports to a certain extent, natural blonde hair overdue for a cut which colour was probably why I had very little body hair, even down between my legs but as the equipment hanging there was quite sufficient, bit more than average from what I'd seen in the school showers there had never been any reason to worry about being seen naked until the last year or so when my bodies reactions to such exhibitions had, at times, been difficult to hide.

As the morning progressed through breakfast in the cafe followed by what seemed a never-ending tour of the college buildings I grew more comfortable in my dress seeing others happily wearing even less, what my Aunt would have called half naked, and admittedly circumspectly enjoying some of the bodies on display. By the time I became aware John and I were also the recipients of some guarded glances from members of both sexes I was quite happy when he suggested we'd seen enough and how about visiting a pub he knew close by for a sandwich and a cool beer. I dared not tell him I'd never been in a pub and only drunk beer a couple of times at school and didn't really like it.

The pub was big and cool and a welcome change, as my eyes became adjusted to the reduced light I could see it was about half full, mainly men of various ages and dress which, having no previous experience of such establishments, didn't strike me as strange in any way.


[Just a reminder the author has other stories archived on Nifty -- look under Ant Boy'

Also he likes receiving comments from any possible readers.]