Jack Edwards



By eighth grade, I developed an interest in other boys more than girls. I had just turned thirteen, and I remember watching out the car window as we waited for Frankie. He was eight months younger than me and in the seventh grade. Since we only lived a quarter mile from each other, just outside of town, our moms took turns driving us to and from school.

We were waiting for him to come from band practice, and his mom was getting impatient because, instead of heading for the car, he was talking to his buddies. I watched because… I liked boys. At one point, Frankie turned his back to us, and I remember the moment, and the view – it was the first time I ever got turned on by another boy’s butt.

I remember, not just wondering what it would be like to try stuff with him, but actually thinking that someday I would try sex with him. It was a really strange feeling.

Until that point, I’d done practically nothing with other boys, and certainly nothing with girls. Jimmy Clark and I had shown each other our boners, but that was it. I’d heard about other things boys could do with boys. I’d heard about dry humping and blow jobs and cornholing. I laughed and pretended to be grossed out, just like the other guys, but I listened carefully whenever those things were talked about, and I imagined doing them with somebody. I imagined it all the time.

For a while, my daydreams turned to Frankie, but eventually my imaginings moved on to other boys in my own class. However, they came back to Frankie a few months later when school ended for the summer.

Frankie and I were on a summer swim team together that summer, as we had been the previous couple of summers. But that summer, it was obvious that he’d grown… everywhere.

We were both at that stage where our shoulders had started to widen while our hips remained small. Our legs and arms lengthened. Our equipment had grown and we’d gotten our first little black patch above our cocks. Our training pool was outdoors and our bodies quickly bronzed; the small hairs on our legs and arms turned golden.

Thirteen is a great age to wear speedos. Our team colors were black and baby blue. On long-legged, bronze boys, with freshly ripening packages, they were erotically hypnotic… at least to a boy like me. I remember as the summer wore on and the nylon fabric grew thinner and thinner from pool water and use, I could clearly see the other guys’ equipment, and, as we swam, I could see it wash back and forth in the water.

Frankie’s coloring was a lot like mine. He had dark blond hair and blue eyes. The ends of our hair bleached in the sun. I already mentioned that he had a great butt; small, tight. He also had a great smile. That part of him was still all boy. That and his enthusiasm; he was always excited about things.

A couple of weeks into the swim season, he invited me to sleep over on a Friday night. Surprisingly, as close as we lived to each other, it was the first time I slept over. That’s probably because we were a grade apart.

He had two twin beds in his room. His older brother was much older and had already moved out. That night, we each lay on a bed, and as usually happens with guys that age, our conversation eventually turned to sex. We compared notes, telling each other pretty much all we knew; at least about boy-girl sex. We shared stories we’d heard and our opinions on various girls in our classes. We talked about jacking off and admitted that we each did it.

At that age, just the word “sex” can give you a hard on. I lay there, hard and really wishing I could finally try sex… with Frankie. “Right this moment,” I said, “I wish you were a girl.” It was a lie, of course. I didn’t wish he was a girl. I really wished I was in his bed with him. It was something a guy said to me once, and I’d said to other guys and only realized much later how often it meant, ‘I want sex NOW!’

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed. “I wish you were a girl.”

Somehow, we managed to get to sleep. But in the morning, the topic came back up, literally, when we had morning wood that didn’t go away after pissing. His mom and dad were both out of the house at work, and it was just him and me.

We stripped off our briefs to show each other our boners (his was actually a fraction longer), and, as we stood there stroking our dicks, I said it again. “Damn, I wish you were a girl right now.”

He said he wished I was one.

“I’ve heard of things guys can do together,” I told him.

His eyes actually lit up and his hand froze on his stiff dick.

“Like what?” he asked.

I tried to be casual and sound off-handed, though my heart raced. I described what I knew of mutual JO, dry humping [frottage], blow jobs, and cornholing. I hoped he’d at least be interested in dry humping.

His eyes still bright, he stepped closer, still stroking.

“I know!” he said. “You cornhole me, and I’ll cornhole you.”

I was actually floored for a moment. He was ready for the big one, right off!

But I hadn’t tried any of those things yet.

“Can we try dry humping first?” I asked, “and maybe blow jobs?”

“Sure!” he agreed, enthusiastically.

We tried dry humping first. Frankie lay back on his bed, and I paused for a moment, looking down at him and his long, thick dick pointing up his belly, all pink. I wanted to put my dick on his and I hurriedly got on top of him.

We held each other and bumped along for a few minutes, but it didn’t do much for us. I did like the feel of the soft skin of his cock and balls. That felt good against my own.

We tried a sixty-nine, and I got my first, really close-up look at another pubescent boy’s equipment. I remember that his balls and dick looked surprisingly big. I guess, in a way, I was still used thinking of him as having marble-size balls. Frankie’s were eggs, and his dick looked fat. I could see how the thick shaft ran all the way down between his balls to his perineum.

Seeing another boy, all hard and excited like that, so close, stirred my gut. His scent wasn’t that strong, but strong enough to excite me even more.

I closed my mouth over the end of his dick and was surprised at the lack of taste. I was also surprised by the feel of his incredibly soft skin and the hardness of his shaft underneath. I liked it. I liked it a lot.

But then, we were trying “blow jobs” so we tried blowing… seriously. We closed our mouths over each other’s dick and tried blowing like we were blowing up balloons.

I still laugh, looking back on it. We blew on each other’s dicks and wondered why guys got so excited over blow jobs. They did nothing for us.

So it was on to the big one; cornholing.

Frankie got down on all fours, and I got behind him. The sight of his butt and him on all fours like that got me excited all over again. Kneeling with my legs inside his, I scooted forward and placed my crown at his pucker. I pushed, but it wouldn’t go in. I pushed harder and Frankie rocked forward a little.

Another bust, I thought, disappointed. “It won’t go in,” I told him.

“I know what to do,” he said, getting up excitedly. He left the room and in a moment returned with a jar of Vaseline. “A couple of weeks ago, my parents gave me an enema and they used this to make it go in.” He handed me the jar. “Put some of that on your dick, and see if it works.”

I smoothed Vaseline onto my dick while Frankie got back into position. Then I set the jar down and scooted forward again. I put my crown at his opening, and this time, it slid in easily. I watched in amazement as my dick disappeared up his bottom, and I felt his opening slide snuggly down my shaft.

I grabbed his hips and tentatively pumped mine. His tightness slid up and down my shaft.

That first experience was incredible, not the least of which was simply the way it looked, gazing down on Frankie’s slender body on all-fours and my dick looking big between his butt cheeks, sliding in and out.

He took a turn, and, with the Vaseline, he slid easily in. I’ve had guys not believe me, but it didn’t hurt at all for either of us. Maybe it was the Vaseline, or that we were really relaxed about it, or because we were in really great shape. Anyway, it actually felt pretty good.

Frankie hadn’t had his first cum yet, and it didn’t happen that day. We simply took turns and neither of us came. But we both liked it.

Over the next few days, we showed each other how we liked to jack off, and we talked about sex, but mainly we cornholed each other every chance we got. It was a few days later, when one of us thought about trying it sitting down. Frankie sat in my lap with my dick up his butt, and he came for the first time in his life. I came for the first time, inside him.

After that, we grew more aggressive, actually banging away at each other when we cornholed. We’d come inside each other, feel a little sheepish about it, and be ready to do it again surprisingly quickly.

We had a great time that summer, but then school started up again, and we had different classes, different sports, and different friends. We left off cornholing together.

But I had fallen in love with cornholing, and it took a while, but I found another boy to do it with.


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