Date: Wed, 9 Dec 2020 15:53:33 -0500 (EST) From: Five Hole Punch Subject: It Was 1958 Please give to Nifty It was 1958. I was thirteen. Late June. The municipal pool in my Piedmont Virginia town opened now for summer. Built in 1922, it was huge and ancient. It would be closed in three years, filled in. Several grayed gothic buildings surrounded the pool; locker and shower facilities close by, a gymnasium with a basketball court set a ways back. An old exercise studio, the kind with mechanical, cabled weights on the wall, medicine balls and Indian clubs, lay farther off along a side path. The pulleyed weights in disrepair, other obsolete equipment half missing, that which remained, dusty and rotted, lay in long forgotten closets. In this building were four small, dark rooms with old, leather-covered, padded tables, the plaster walls cracked and brown; they were for boxers, their last matches fought here more than a decade past. We had segregation; racial, of course, but also age and gender. Boys swim, ages 8 to 16, weekdays from 1PM to 4 PM afternoons, children and girls early and adults late. The summer routine: get up, eat breakfast, chores, bicycle to adventures, home for lunch, maybe, and then to the pool to swim and cool off. At the pool entrance this June day was "Pete," Peter his full first name. Older than me by nine months, he was in my class at school, joining late in the year, from "a foreign country" meaning someplace in Europe that a boy in 1950s Virginia would never have heard of. Dark haired and dark eyed and, just enough to be acceptable, olive skinned. Most of the local boys were some type of blonde, brilliant white or golden or dirty. I was in the latter category. Since Pete hadn't been to the pool before, I showed him around. We took lockers next to each other to change into our unflattering cotton swimsuits. Peter was tall and lean, he weighed little more than I did, but had several inches more in height. We undressed, ingenuously naked before each other. Pete had a long, uncut cock and a full, "sack of egg" sized, testicles. He had two small patches of dark pubes, one on each side at the base of his cock, and more, sparsely scattered, on his scrotum. I didn't hide my inquisitive gaze. I was still really a boy, but on the cusp. I had touched myself in the bathroom and in other private moments. My erect penis felt tingly and wonderful when I touched it, but I hadn't stroked it steadily, not knowing of the practice, just light caresses that sent shivers through me. I could skin my foreskin back and I had looked at what lay hidden with curiosity. I was smooth to the touch, nothing but a few downy blonde wisps on my mound and none on my beginning-to-hang sack. When cold, or in the sun, my nipples would stiffen, no longer just two smudges on my chest. We swam together daily; yes, with an ever revolving set of school chums and acquaintances, but Pete and I developed an immediate close friendship that was intimately exclusive. Pete was another part of me, my ideal. It was less than two weeks, when June burned its brightest, that my life changed. We explored, as boys do, aimlessly; woods and creeks and culverts. I had shown Pete the old, run down areas of town, closed businesses and musty back buildings, garages with hulks of old cars, glass broken. We freely peed when the need arose and we both looked. It was behind a cinderblock wall at the deserted furniture plant, as we made dark patterns in the porous bricks, when Peter asked. "Hey, Ronnie, have you done the jacking yet?" Pete had an accent and didn't always get the words right, but this was a new one to me. "The what?" "The jacking. You know ..." He made the hand gesture. I didn't know. It may seem strange, but such things weren't discussed openly in a Christian town in 1950s Virginia. "I will show you. You will like!" "Okay." "Later, not here now." It was a sunny Tuesday when Pete showed me "jacking" and much, much more. We had ridden our bikes to fish a pond in the morning; in the warm noonday sun we were hot and sweaty. We headed home for a sandwich and lemonade before heading to the pool. When we parked our bikes Pete said, "Hey, let's go to the back of buildings, I want to show you jacking." "Okay" "All boys do! In all the world," he stated with a broad wave of his arm. I trusted Pete. He had been in many countries. We went to the deserted exercise building. Pete gave a good look around outside, there was no one. Of course, there was no one inside. "We go to little room, way back." We went to the most distant side room and closed the old, heavy door most of the way; no one could see in but we could hear if anyone was approaching. It was, after being outside, dim, but enough light filtered in to see once our eyes adjusted. "Let's take off clothes," Peter said with some enthusiasm. We stripped off, putting our clothes on top of our shoes to keep them out of the dust. We stood there totally naked. Neither of us was erect, but Pete looked a little "longer." I was definitely anxious about doing something risky that could get me in trouble, but not sexually excited like I would be later when I was with Pete and knew what was coming. "That's good penis, Ronnie." It was a little weird hearing someone compliment me on my boyhood, but I believed and respected Peter's judgment without question even though I was only about an inch and a half long and hairless. He was older and had a bigger and better cock than I had so he must know. "You take your penis like this," Pete explained, "You move skin back and forth and get your penis hard." He demonstrated. Observing Pete's cock growing bigger and fatter, rising up and out, filled me with wonder. After giving a few moments of study, I copied Pete's technique. I quickly erected to my full three inches or so. My penis stood absolutely straight up, very hard, looking like a spike with my foreskin not retracted. Peter's manhood stood out and he easily retracted his foreskin with his strokes. I could see Pete's interest in my erection. "Get up on table, Ronnie." I did as he asked. "Spread legs out." What came next took my breath away. Pete leaned forward and started to suck me! I whined like a puppy. "Ihhn ... Ihhnn ..." Pete bobbed up and down rapidly. He licked and sucked my cockhead free. I held my breath, my ears ringing as my blood pounded. I wasn't on this planet for a minute. My scrotum was as tight as a drum. Then, Pete stopped and stood back. "You suck me," he said matter-of-factly, fair is fair. I wanted to do for Pete anything he wished for. I got up off the table and Pete climbed on. His half-hard cock swung this way and that, like big ones do, as he settled back on his elbows. I his took his heavy cock in hand, awed. It was hot and spongy. It skinned back naturally as I grasped it. I looked at Pete and then leaned down, taking his naked glans, tasting him; gamy, like venison. I felt exhilarated, not hesitant at all. I rushed to envelop Pete's curved helmet, mouthing its fatness round and round with my lips and tongue. I was a natural cocksucker. Pete grunted. I worshipped, bobbing rapidly as Pete had done. He erected fully, getting harder and fatter, more than a mouthful. Pete's abs tightened and I could see his nipples standing firm, excited. I spontaneously kissed the curving flesh of Pete's abdomen before going back down to suck deeper and more slowly. His scent rose, intoxicating me. Pete petted my damp locks before reaching for the back of my head to urge me on. "Oh, Ronnie, so good, so good." Too soon, Peter pushed me off of his shaft. I looked up from between his legs, beneath his shiny, saliva-coated column which rose like a space rocket in my line of vision. "Suck my balls." The thought of doing such a thing had never entered my head in my entire life. I wanted to please Pete. I opened my lips and kissed his left testicle, the skin sparsely covered with dark hair. I took it full into my mouth and sucked a salty treat. I looked up to my god seeking, in his eyes, approval. I lowered my gaze and mouthed the sweaty, perfumed flesh. Soon, I licked upward from his sack and went back to his cock. A syrupy nectar coated my tongue. Pete shortly stopped my efforts. "Ronnie, we make the fuck now," Pete said hurriedly as he got to his feet. I was shocked to hear such a bad word from my schoolmate. I didn't know what fucking was. "Lean hands on table," Pete directed. He spit onto his fingers. They went between my thirteen year old buttocks. I was stunned Peter would touch me there. I forgot my shock as soon as he worked his fingers over my summer-warm asshole. "Oh! Oh, Pete!" I cooed in ecstasy. My ass rose to meet Peter's probing fingers. I gripped hard at the stained and torn leather at the sides of the table. I spread my feet automatically. Time stopped. My eyes closed and my mouth was open in an "O" of pure pleasure. My head swum, lost in a seventh heaven of bliss beyond words. It seemed an eternity before Pete stepped close behind me and I felt the squishy head of his cock replace his fingers at my hot hole. Pete pressed forward. I gave myself to him, to his cock. More easily than you'd think, the head squeezed in. I panted with the intrusion, faint with excitement. It was the first inch or two of Pete's shaft that caused me to tense. My body twisted. My upper lip wrinkled under my nose, exposing my snaggled front teeth. "Ah ... Ahh!" Pete withdrew slightly, paused, and then went forward. Again, I tightened, up on my toes. "Uh, uh, uhh," I huffed in short breaths. Pete pulled back, almost, but not quite all the way. Forward again. He did not stop this time but went in deeper and deeper; I opened to his stout teenage cock. "Ah ... Ahh ... Ahhh!" I took it, my mouth agape. It was like having a stiff rod up my ass and, indeed, it was. I gathered myself, catching my breath. Pete held my hips, his erection hard, filling me with a fullness like no other. He waited. I could feel his sweat on the inside of my thighs, on my squirming ass. Then he began, giving in unhurried movements, out, in, measured, no more than an inch at first. Pete, inside me! A thousand sensations in every moment. My arms ached as I held myself against his teenage insistence. The pressure of his penetrating phallus rose through me, my eyes bulged, teary. My jaw hung, transported by pleasured hurting. Peter had me at his pace, relishing the novelty of this naïve American boy, virginal and innocent in every way. His thrusts grew longer, but he never pulled out so far as to go beyond the fat middle thickness of his rod. I was grunting unashamedly. "Uh ... Nguhh ... Uh ... Nggh!" Peter stopped. He withdrew his erection with a soft squish, leaving me empty. I gave forth a deep exhalation. "Uhhh!" "Sit on edge of table, Ronnie." Unsteadily, I climbed up. Pete slid me to the edge, the sweat on my back smearing the dark stained leather. I could see his perspiration; gathered in the slight, dark hairs at the edge of his upper lip, a small rivulet just running from his pointed sideburn onto his cheek. Pete had my legs quickly up and spread. My own cock pointed at me, its pouting slit lying directly in my sight, my boyish, naked balls hanging to each side. Pete spit and smeared my anus anew; it tingled with a thousand sparks of pleasure. My head went back, my eyes closed; wanting Pete, wanting to give my body. He entered, snorting like a bull. "Nnnghh!" My toes clenched, curled tight. One, two, three spasms of resistance before Pete was all the way in, filling me fully and fulfilled, in some way that I had no concept of in my provincial boyhood. It was overwhelming, heaven on Earth. I gave a low, gratified moan. "Ohhh ..." Pete held my legs up, like you would a baby, to position me for his rut. I didn't care, I wanted his cock. He began. Cock in. Cock out. My face contorted with pleasure. Pete fucked me. His fat oval shaft pulled and pushed, back and forth in the slippery spittle and hot sweat smearing my widely stretched ring. The fresh smell of sex hovered heavy in the stale air. Pete's thrusts became deep and steady, forceful, feral. The rhythm gave rise to a heat, a satisfaction, deep inside me that swelled more and more. "Uh ... Uhh ... Uhhh ..." I was afire, body and mind. Pete, seemingly far, far away, responded with his own pleasured grunts. Then ... a pause ... for a moment only. Pete changed his angle of entry. Deeper! Stiffer! "Oh, God!" I bit my lip, my back arched, hips spreading and rising. Something was happening! My hands gripped the edge of the table as a - a wave - began. I saw stars. My anus convulsed, my penis jerked wildly. I was beyond some high peak, like a rocket shooting into space. "Nnn ... Nnnn ... Nnhhh ...," I mewed over and over. Suddenly, Pete slowed, pumping his hips deliberately, with deep concentration - one, two, three, four – ejaculating inside me. "Uhh ... Uhhh ... Uhhhh ... Unnngh!" I didn't know about come, all I knew is I was having the most intense experience of my life. Pete collapsed on me, hot and sweaty. We both came down from the heights, panting together, recovering. Peter finally broke the spell. "Oh, Ronnie, so good!" He pushed himself up and, stepping back, Pete's spent cock slid from me, already drooping in a downward curve. I gazed at it; heavy, glistening, the silvery purple head half-covered, a pearlescent sheen agleam in the dusty light of the small room. I rose. My puffy anus pressed to the smooth leather of the table, giving a fresh stain to the thousands of others. When I stood, I felt my bottom with my hand. It was slick and wet. "You got my semen in you, Ronnie," Pete explained, "You got to get it out. We go to showers." I stood and, leaning on the table for support, watched Peter dress. He pulled his foreskin down before stowing his soggy, elongated cock in his shorts. His shirt stuck to his sweat-drenched torso. I dressed more slowly, wobbly and weak-kneed from being fucked. By the time I made it to the locker room to shower, most of Pete's semen had run out into my underwear making a real mess. I was too exhausted to swim much that afternoon, I was too spent. I went home early and lay in my bed thinking of everything that had happened. The perfect summer went by in sun and rain, camping and fishing, everything summer was to a boy. It seemed I was almost always erect when I was around Pete. He smiled and we laughed about it. I almost couldn't wait for the sex. He had to slow me down sometimes. We only risked it in the exercise rooms a couple of more times and sucking peter was all we did there. I learned to love the taste of Peter's semen. In the woods, however, sometimes near the pond, Pete had me, nearly every day but Sunday. We would be doing most anything boys do, throwing rocks, fishing, staring at the clouds in the sky, when one of us would get a gleam in their eye and we would know what the other was thinking. A quick strip down, I'd suck Pete and then he'd take me, from front or behind, sweat dripping between us, dust and dirt on our feet and hands. Often, I would use a tree for support when Pete began to really rut, but there were times, in the reeds near the pond, when I would be down on all fours and Pete took me like a buck taking a doe. I was happy. I was a happy boy. It was the happiest I`ve ever been in my whole life. It's all gone now. Peter left with his family within a year. I went into the Army and visited foreign lands myself. I came back once or twice. The buildings were gone and there were just old county vehicles parked haphazardly there, behind a wire fence, waiting to rust. Copyright 2020. All Rights Reserved.