Date: Wed, 6 Jun 2007 18:57:35 -0700 (PDT) From: SauronTheDarkLord Subject: Beginnings IV Thanks to all of those who encouraged me to continue the accounts of my early sex life. Now that tax season is well past, I pick up the saga in my high school years. One would have thought that having a regular diet of my friend Sam's cock-on-demand would have been plenty to keep a boy busy without looking for more. One thinking that, though, would have been unfamiliar with the unlimited sex drive of a teenager. To paraphrase Ron White, one of my favorite comedians, "Once you've had one cock down your throat...you pretty much want all the rest." Of course, how to go about it in a small town which was, at least on the surface, pervasively homophobic was the question. The answer came from a very unlikely source. One of the boys a year ahead of me in school was, even by the standards of a small town where pretty much everyone did sports, a serious jock. He looked like he weight-trained, but it was all DNA. He always rolled the shirt sleeves of his t-shirts up to his shoulder just in case one might have thought about overlooking his biceps. Now in the normal story, this is the part where the author goes into great detail about how hot the individual was, etc., what a crush he had, etc., and etc. Maybe for them. But for me this was the last person I was interested in because he had girl friends by the truckload. Nevertheless, there were the occasional things that made one wonder. One day after football practice while we were toweling off after the shower he said -- direct quote -- "Gee I wish I was hung like you." Now as I mentioned previously, I have never thought of myself as being particularly large, but what was kind of off the wall was the way Terry just came out with that comment. Another time when we were by ourselves he mentioned that while he was visiting Vic, a younger friend, the guy had asked -- another direct quote -- "Do you want to see my taddywagger?" (I think the parent who taught him to call his dick a "taddywagger" should be indicted, but that's neither here nor there.) Interpreting the lack of instant rejection as encouragement, he then pulled out his two or three inches to show it off. Terry then told me how he then pulled his out...but before I could get any more details, we had to terminate the discussion. So, as unlikely as the thought would have been, Terry was high up on the list of prospects for my next sexual partner. The opportunity so follow up soon presented itself. As I mentioned, Terry was a year older, and therefore was driving when those younger were still pedestrians. Thus I was walking toward school just to go hang around and shoot baskets, when Terry pulled up on a motorcycle, shirtless. While I knew what he looked like with his shirt off (as well as every other item of clothing), I had no idea he had a motorcycle. "Where did you get that," I asked? "My brother's. He's home from college." "Where are you headed?" "Nowhere really. What about you?" "I was going to go shoot some baskets. Nothing else going on." "Want to take a ride?" "Sure." Of course the first problem was where to hold on. While Terry's bike was not exactly a Harley hog, maybe a Suzuki as I recall now, it did have some serious pick up. "Does this thing have any handles or anything like that," I asked, visions of my body laying inert in a ditch dancing in my head. "Nah. I guess you'll just have to hold on to me." Now there was a problem/opportunity. I couldn't put my arms around him and lean on his back like his girl friend... that would have grossed both of us out. On the other hand, I didn't want to end up road kill. So I sort of compromised. As we accelerated, I put a hand on his hip to keep my balance, then added the other hand as our speed increased. Being right about belt height, my fingers were in contact with a combination of denim and skin. I sort of liked the skin part. Terry noticed it, too. "Are you trying to tickle me?" "No. Just trying not to die." "Well, o.k. But if you're going to try to feel me up we're going to have to stop somewhere." We both sort of laughed at the sort of joke. It didn't take long to get out of town and into the country. The Illinois -- Mississippi Canal ran south of town and was a common destination for just getting away and killing time. That turned out to be our destination. The canal was a virtual crazy quilt of locks, bridges, aqueducts, and a variety of other structures. It was a good place for some privacy. Terry parked the bike and we walked over and sat under a bridge. The water was virtually motionless, and a slight breeze, along with the shade of the bridge, kept us cool. So there we were. Alone in relative privacy, with a potential sexual partner. But how -- if there even was a way -- to convert sexual potential into sexual activity. I figured I would follow up on the opening I thought he had left me earlier. "So" I said after a decent interval ,"you never told me how things turned out with Vic. Has he tried to show you his taddywagger again?" We both laughed. "I think I scared him," Terry said. "When I took my dick out all he could think about was that it was hairy." "I wonder what he expected. You're sixteen...you're gonna have pubes." "My thinking, too", Terry added. "Anyway, I let him play with it a little until it got hard. I figured that was what he wanted." "And...?" I prompted. "And what do you think happens when your dick gets played with? I shot, then I finished him." "Cool. A good time was had by all, as they say." "Yep", Terry agreed. I figured it was now or never. "Well, anytime you want to see my taddywagger I'm sure I could make it available, but it's got hair on it, too." "No one here but us," he observed. Well that sounded like a yes to me. I stood up and pulled my t-shirt off, evening us up in the nude torso area. I then undid my belt and zipper, and pulled out my cock, once I was able to get it out of my briefs. "Damn. I thought it was big before." "Thanks. Your turn now, though." Terry stood up and went through the same routine I had just moments before. He was nice sized, 5 inches or so and, like most at that time, cut. "Cool. And still hairy, too." We sat there a few feet apart for awhile, hardons out, with the occasional stroking and eye contact. A next move was in order. "Why don't you bring that guy over here?" I asked. Terry stood up and walked over to where I was sitting. His erect cock was less than a foot from my face. I didn't bother to ask for permission, I just grabbed his cock and started jerking him off. I started very slowly, just to see his reaction. Once he picked up my rhythm he started moving his hips, and his eyes slowly closed. "You like?" "Mmmmmm." Sounded like a yes to me. As Terry's breathing picked up, he offered some additional information. "I...didn't tell you...before...about Vic." "What about Vic?" "We did...something...else." "Yeah?" "I put it...in...his mouth." "Did you enjoy it?" "Yeah." "And...?" "Would...you...?" My answer was non-verbal, which was the answer he really wanted anyway. I pulled him a little closer and took the head of his dick in my mouth, just to tease him a little bit. He shuddered, and I started working more and more in on each of his strokes. Now lest you get the wrong impression, this was not exactly deep-throating. In fact, I have never gotten the upper hand on my gag reflex. So I was only working one or two inches at a time probably. Terry didn't seem to care. Just like with Sam I worked the head of his dick and my mouth and the base of his dick with my hand. And just like with Sam he came like a sonofabitch. By this time I was better at dealing with the consequences. Apparently my level of expertise exceeded Vic's. "God damn", was the extent of Terry's response for a minute or two. As he rejoined the living, he said "I know I ought to do something for you, but I'm not sure about sucking yet. But a handjob seems so lame after that." Hmmmm, the candy store was open, but it was low on inventory. "Well, there is something..." "Hey, you're not gonna fuck me..." "No, not actually." "Well what then? "Turn around and you'll see." Terry faced away from me and I pulled his jeans and briefs down until his ass was free and clear. "Now bend over, and I'm not gonna fuck you." Well, not exactly, I thought to myself. As Terry bent over and presented his gorgeous ass, stepped up behind him and put my cock between his cheeks. "See," I said, "no fucking." I started slowly moving my dick up and down his crack. As I was doing that I reached around and slowly squeezed his dick back to attention. Whatever reservations Terry might have had were gone by then. Not knowing if he would freak or not if I licked his ass, I slobbered all over my free hand and used it to "lube" my dick. He noticed the new sensation. "What'd you do? Spit on my ass?" "Technically no," I replied. The discussion might have gone on longer but about that time I hit the limit of my endurance and shot cum on Terry from the middle of his shoulder blades to his ass. "What was it you said? God damn..." "Something like that,"Terry said. "But now we gotta get this cum off my back." Fortunately, around a canal one does not lack for water. I scraped most of my product off his back with my hands, and then rinsed them off in the canal. When we got that done, Terry walked over and we got the rest off with what amounted to an outdoor sponge bath, without the sponge. "I never realized how much fun motorcycles could be," I offered. "Yeah," Terry answered," you never know where you'll end up or what you'll be doing." Well, where we ended up next was riding back into town, and what we ended up doing was, at least on my end, mowing our lawn. After which it was time to jerk off with my newest suckmate being Inspiration A.