Date: Sun, 7 Dec 2003 14:51:30 -0800 (PST)
From: WH <symphonyno3@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Happy Birthday" (t/b) (oral) (real)

This actually happened to me. I am retelling the story
as best as I can remember it--this was 19 years ago,
after all.

The usual disclaimer applies: if you're under the age
of 18, then hightail it out of here. If the law where
you live is too prudish to allow this sort of reading
material, then get your jollies elsewhere. Et cetera.


Brandon had move in two houses away from ours a few
months earlier, so I had been eyeing him for a while.
And for some reason I knew he way eyeing me too. We
never had an opportunity to be alone and have any fun
until my tenth birthday.

For my birthday I got a bike. I immediately hopped on
it and rode around the neighborhood reveling in a
Schwinn-induced haze. I lived on a cul-de-sac, so I'd
ride down to the end then circle back toward my house.
I tested my endurance like this for about 20 minutes
until I rode by Brandon's house which was at the end
of the cul-de-sac where it intersected with the
street.

He was outside doing nothing in particular, so I
stopped and talked to him. I told him of my new bike
and about how excited I was. I told him all the places
I planned to ride it: through the field behind our
houses; down the giant dirt hill in the middle of the
field; to the store for candy; and so on. Of course,
being fifteen, Brandon was not too interested in the
hyperactive ramblings of a ten-year-old.

I glanced behind Brandon and noticed his bike in his
garage. He noticed me noticing his bike. Then, as
though we were both on the same wavelength, sharing
the same thought, he said, "Want to race?" A smile
crossed my face from ear to ear. He sensed my
answer--yes--without me even saying a word. Brandon
grabbed a pair of flip-flops, mounted his bike, and we
took off for the cul-de-sac one street over from ours.

We rode to the end of the court, evened our bikes,
then started discussing what the prize should be for
the winner. "What should the winner get?" he asked me.

"I don't know."

We both sat there for a couple minutes, not saying a
word. I was remember the sleep-over I had with my
friends before we moved to this town, and the amount
and type of fun we had. I wanted to say to Brandon
that the loser has to suck the winner's dick, but I
was not nearly bold enough and I didn't want to get
the shit beat out of me: he'd surely tell my parents
that I thought fellatio was a suitable prize for
winning a bike race. Then it would hit the fan!

Just as I was calmly freaking out about the potential
consequences of my suggestion, Brandon leans over and
quietly says, "How about the loser has to suck the
winner's dick." Again, I smile from ear to ear!

"That's just what I was thinking."

Then reality sort of sank in. "But you're older than I
am. And faster." I don't know why that was an issue
for me, being the cockhound that I am. Even back then,
I was no stranger to the joys of sucking a guy off. I
loved cock. I couldn't get enough of it. I think I
sucked off most of the boys in my neighborhood,
including a couple of my cousins back in my old town,
and was always looking for a new kid that needed some
servicing. I supposed I brought that up so that I
didn't seem too desperate to suck him off.

"Don't worry," he says, "I'm wearing flip-flops. I
can't ride very fast in these." Years later I am able
to see the bullshit in his reasoning. Of course he
could have ridden faster than me. He just wanted to
suck my ten-year-old black cock!

We both get ready. Brandon starts the count-off. "On
your marks..... get set.....GO!" We were off! We
stayed fairly even for a while, and I again got a
little panicked about having to suck him off. But then
I began to pull ahead of him and slowly but surely I
won the race. Brandon seemed noticeably winded at the
finish line. All part of his rouse, no doubt. I smiled
at my victory and then started getting very, very
excited. Now it was time to collect my prize.

See, in all the years that I had been blowing other
little boys, none of them ever blew me. There was the
occasional I'll-suck-your's-if-you-suck-mine type of
thing, but no one ever got into the groove of giving
my prepubescent cock and good polishing. And I didn't
really mind. I was a sucker through and through.

We now needed to find a suitable place for the awards
ceremony. We decided to hop the wall that was at the
end of our street. See, the housing development was
surrounded by a twelve foot-high stucco wall. Behind
the wall was empty fields with the occasional tree
towering over a blank patch of dirt. It was next to
one of these trees that we settled down.

Brandon sat down on the ground with his back to a
large oak tree and motioned for me to stand in front
of him. I could see cars driving along the street a
couple hundred yards away as I unbuttoned my pants,
but that didn't bother me. (I'm sure there was a
driver or two that probably wanted a closer look.) I
was a little nervous but a lot excited about getting
sucked for the first time. I mind shut down and went
into automatic pilot as I unzipped my pants and pulled
them and my underwear down.

The second my clothes hit the ground, Brandon reached
out and touched my dick. The feel of his touch sent a
shiver through my body giving me the greatest pleasure
I had ever felt in my young life. He stroked it a
little, giving me, again, the greatest pleasure I had
ever felt in my young life. I became hard instantly.
Then I became harder the more he stroked.

After about a minute of stroking my dick (although
time didn't seem to matter) he leaned forward and put
my dick in his mouth. Now, THIS WAS THE GREATEST
PLEASURE I HAD EVER FELT IN MY YOUNG LIFE! The very
second that my dick settled into the hot wetness of
Brandon's mouth, the mysteries of the Universe became
instantly comprehendible to me. I knew the meaning of
Life: to get your cock sucked. I knew why God created
Man: to get his cock sucked. I knew that I never
wanted to leave Brandon's mouth. Ever. For any reason!

He started sucking on my boycock causing me to vibrate
inside my own skin. Me knees weakened as he took my
entire tool into his amazingly hot mouth. He
deep-throated my three-inch piece for a few minutes
until the pleasure because too intense for me to
understand. With my mind reeling for the overload, all
I could do was lean farther forward and brace myself
on the tree.

Sadly, I don't know if I had a dry orgasm on that
incredible day in September 1984. I don't even know
how my first blowjob ended. In fact, I don't remember
anything about that day after about two minutes into
the suckfest. I do know, however, that Brandon and I
got together a lot more in the next year, until we
both moved out of that neighborhood. I'd love to share
those stories with you, if you want.

Thanks for reading. symphonyno3@yahoo.com