My first crush, at the age of 7, was on a 9‑year old named Johnny. His sister was my sister's best friend, so Johnny became my best friend. Johnny and his sister were Amer‑Asian; their father was an American who had met his mother when he was stationed in Japan during a tour of service in the armed forces, and had brought her with him when he returned home. Johnny was two years older than me, seemed infinitely wiser, and I adored him. I was only able to enjoy his companionship for a couple of years, until my family moved from our hometown in 1969, when I was 8, to live in another town far away. I never saw or heard from Johnny again, but I've often thought that if my family hadn't moved we might have become more than just friends; making love with Johnny has been a recurrent fantasy over the years. The following is my projection of what might have happened if Johnny and I had remained close friends into our adolescence. It's a work of fiction, but I'll always wish it had become fact.
Copyright, 2006 by Stephen Scott. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives, to archive and display this work. All other uses are expressly forbidden unless explicit arrangement has been made with the author. This work may not be reproduced, posted, stored electronically, or archived, except for personal, non-public use, without the express written permission of the author.
Adult Youth--Fourth of July Fireworks, The Pool Cleaner's New Gig, The Chicken Run (3 parts) and The Boy on the Table
Authoritarian--Number Twelve, His Private Stockade, Hustling a Hustler, All I Want for Christmas and Bicycle Butt
Beginnings--The Boy in the Alley
Encounters--The Bellhop and the Movie Star and Straight Boy Cody for Cash
Incest--Stress Relief, Brother's Bad Report Card
Science Fiction or Fantasy--Lije Bailey's Perfect Love (Parts 1 and 2)
Young Friends--After the Fireworks
If you enjoy this story or any of my other stories, please drop me a line at Joe_Gillis_2000@yahoo.com (A No-Prize if you recognize that name!)
And if you'd like to keep up with my stories as I post them, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NiftyStoriesAlert/
You can also read some true encounters on my blog: http://www.livejournal.com/users/joegillis96/
Also some remembrances of boys I loved when I was young on my personal site: http://ncplaywright.mysite.com
(Look under "Biography")
It was a warm Friday afternoon in early September, and I'd gone home with Johnny after school, as I had so many times before. Like my own mother and father, both of Johnny's parents were at work, which was somehow still slightly peculiar to me, in 1975; my own mother had only just taken a job outside the home earlier that year, once she decided I was old enough to look after myself between 3 and 6pm each weekday.
Johnny and I had known each other for years, ever since our sisters had become fast friends. Their ages were the same, but Johnny was two years older than I was, and that made his friendship exotic. He'd known so much more at 10 than I had at 8, and now that he was 16 and I was 14, his worldliness was an intellectual aphrodisiac. I had been reading at least two to three years ahead of my age group for some time, and it left me starved for information about any and everything. Johnny helped fill in the gaps of my experience. He was the one who told me about sex when my parents evaded my questions.
But there was something else about him, something I'd been vaguely aware of since the age of 8: a feeling that rose from my groin to the pit of my stomach, gripped my heart and widened my eyes in his presence. He was beautiful, and I sensed my feelings about him were greater, more important and somehow more secret than just friendship.
The rudiments of sex I understood. Erections, ejaculations, menstruation, reproduction--the differences between male and female--that I knew, had learned or been taught. I'd had my first dry orgasms two years earlier, and in the intervening time had discovered with zeal the next phase in my sexual development, the amazing release of hot semen that I could make happen whenever I wanted. And like most boys my age, I wanted it a lot. Being home alone every afternoon, especially when my sister was off with friends, I'd been masturbating furiously since those first dry orgasms at the age of 11.
I had always been able to draw cartoons, and my drawing now was all erotic pictures. Men and women made love on my drawing paper as I lay on my bed creating sex scenes in pencil, the friction of my hardened penis against the mattress spurring me toward bigger erections and more elaborate sex cartoons. But for a long time now, I'd had the growing suspicion that I was less interested in the naked women I drew than I was in their male partners. I knew what my penis was made for, and what pleasure it could give me, and how to make that happen. What I didn't know was why I felt the way I did about looking at those naked men, and why I got a special thrill from drawing their erections and masculine buttocks. I knew the way things were supposed to be; I knew how I was supposed to feel about girls. But I just didn't know why I only felt that way towards Johnny.
We were lounging around in his bedroom that autumn afternoon, in that almost sensual way kids have when they know that school is over for now and two days' freedom lie ahead of them, ripe for the tasting. Johnny was stretched vertically across his mattress, and I was lying with my back to his dresser. The radio played softly, and we talked of the nothing that to adolescents is everything: wasn't our principal a stupid bastard? who was going to be on Carol Burnett's show tomorrow night? and what did he think of the James Taylor song the AM disc jockey was spinning?
When he began flipping the pages of a magazine, I looked at him as I often had, taking in his entire physiognomy when his attention was diverted and I could stare openly at him.
His father was white, an American who'd fallen in love with a Japanese woman while he'd been stationed in Tokyo as a soldier in the late '50s. They'd married, and come back to Ohio, where they produced two offspring: my sister's pal, and her slightly younger brother Johnny. I've since seen, and known, several children of mixed-race, but none of them have had such a strong physical orientation toward one side of their parents' ethnicity as Kathy and Johnny did. I could see very little Caucasian in either of them. They simply looked Japanese.
Johnny's build was slender, and he'd always been taller than me. I took in my prone form, as if taking inventory of what I loved about him. He was wearing shorts, and his tan legs and thighs spread out on the mattress; the hair on his body was light and silken, giving his extremities the look of hairlessness. His limbs were strong and firm from running, and his plump backside looked like perfect round half‑melons.
My eyes continued to roam up his body admiringly, and as I trained my gaze on his face, I saw that he was staring at me. I flushed and turned my eyes away in embarrassment. I became so self‑conscious that I turned my body around, my back to him, and lay low, my head against the bed so I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. There was a long, lingering moment of awkward silence: I sat, my eyes downcast, trembling because I thought he'd call me a faggot or something and order me to go away. And as I stared at the floor, he shifted on the mattress behind me, and I was suddenly aware of his face hovering above my head.
I looked up, startled, and his dark almond eyes stared into mine. The shock of black hair that fell across his forehead dangled in the air and his mouth was fixed in a soft, dreamy smile. I held his gaze, my heart racing, and took a brief inventory of his beautiful face. The thin arches of his eyebrows, the perfect set of high cheekbones, the large and slightly rubbery lips that set off his gleaming white teeth.
The look on his face was anything but accusatory. His smile was calm and inviting. And as I gazed up at the face I adored, he lowered his mouth toward mine and kissed me gently. Shock turned to delight, and I reached up to hold his thick silken hair in my hands as I kissed him back.
So this was what I wanted, I thought. This is the reason I took those furtive glances at him when I thought he wasn't looking. Although I was a boy and he was a boy, all this time I'd wanted to kiss his lips. And somehow, he'd known. And had wanted it, too. I could feel my penis growing hard in my pants as his lips crushed against my own.
He broke the kiss and grinned sweetly. My heart melted and he took my hand, bringing me up onto the mattress with him. We sat staring at each other, eyes gleaming. He threw his legs over mine so that his bottom was resting against my thighs.
"You didn't mind that?" I whispered. "Kissing me, I mean?"
He shook his head.
"I've wanted to for a long time," he said softly. "I just didn't know how you'd feel about it. I was afraid you'd hate me. But when I saw you lookin' at my butt, I figured it might be okay."
I blushed a deep red.
"I was pretty obvious, huh?"
"But it isn't right, is it?" I asked. "Two guys?"
"Who says it isn't?"
"Did you like it?"
"Yes," I croaked, shame‑faced.
"So did I. Then it's all right, isn't it?"
He had me there. It had felt so right, so perfect. I knew that. I'd never known a girl I wanted to kiss, not like I wanted to kiss Johnny.
"You look at me a lot when you think I don't see," he smiled. My face turned a deeper shade of crimson. "It's okay. I look at you, too."
Every word Johnny spoke made my young cock become stiffer.
"I love looking at you, Johnny."
He reached out for me and pulled me to him. I faded into his arms, my head against his chest, and felt warm and wanted in his embrace. My arms fell around his back and held him. My erection burned in my trousers, and my heart thudded in my breast as though I'd just run a relay race.
His hands were stroking my back, and fell to my butt. The feel of his palms against my backside sent electric waves of pleasure through my body, and made my prick stiffen even more. Emboldened, I reached beneath him and cupped his butt.
As I caressed his cheeks I felt his crotch against my belly; he was hard, too, as hard as I was. I wondered how something that felt this right could be wrong.
I felt him tugging at my shirt then, and I let him pull it off my back and up toward my head. His fingers burned against my skin, and I yanked the shirt off over my head and threw it to the floor. To reciprocate, I ran my hands beneath his sweater and lifted it off. His skin felt smooth, silken under my palms, and I knew then that I had to see more of it.
He tossed off the sweater and we sat staring at each other's chests for a moment before falling back together again, our mouths pressed together. He pushed me backward and I fell onto the mattress. He lowered himself onto me, and I felt our penises crush together--two hard mounds of flesh aching for release. We kissed some more, and I marveled at his body, so close to mine now, the skin so hot and yet so tender.
He broke the kiss again, and the next thing I knew his mouth was traveling down my face, his lips kissing my ears and throat before moving to my chest. Suddenly I felt his tongue on my right nipple, where it lolled and licked and his lips kissed my tit. Then he slid over to the left nipple and repeated the strange process, causing me to arch my back and moan.
Now he moved still lower, his tongue darting into my navel before sliding down to where my trousers hugged my waist. He laid his hand on my crotch, and my dick, already rock‑hard, jumped at his touch. His fingers began to undo the snap and the next thing I knew he was drawing down the zipper. When he started to tug my pants off, I lifted my butt and let him pull them off my legs and over my feet.
Johnny threw my trousers across the room and I lay in nothing but my socks and white cotton briefs, staring at him with wide-open eyes, waiting in wonder for his next move. He lay between my thighs and ran his open palm along my crotch. My dick jutted up painfully under my briefs, and when he touched it I nearly jumped. He stroked me through the cotton, running his hand over my hardness and cupping my testicles.
Then he dipped his head down and ran his tongue along my hard shaft. He opened his mouth and drew me in, his hot breath scorching me through the thin underpants. He suckled me, letting his front teeth slide over my cock, and I lay moaning. I felt his hand grope inside the fly of my briefs, and when he took hold of my erection, I cried out suddenly at the feel of his burning fingers on my dick.
Johnny manipulated my sex out of my shorts, rubbing the head gently and running his palm along its throbbing length. His lips kissed the tip, and I groaned in delirium. He ran his tongue luxuriously along the shaft before bringing the glans back to his lips. The next thing I knew, my aching dick was engulfed in the wet flame of his mouth. I felt my body writhing as his head bobbed up and down on my erection.
His mouth was like moist velvet on my cock. I had never felt such incredibly sensual exhilaration in my life. A fistful of baby oil was nothing compared to this. And the fact that it was Johnny's mouth ministering so intensely to my penis made it all the sweeter.
He sucked me up and down, taking me all the way into his mouth, his tongue working over my shaft like my cock was a lollipop. I found my hips jutting forward involuntarily and my butt squirmed as the passion mounted. Occasionally the head of my dick would scrape over his front teeth and the almost unbearable feeling made my head spun.
When I was able to open my eyes, all I could see was Johnny's black hair as his head moved up and down. His fingers gripped my balls and pulled on them gently. This was all I ever wanted to know of heaven.
After a few more moments of agonizing pleasure, I began to buck my hips as my orgasm approached and I climaxed violently, spewing torrents of hot semen into his sweet, luxuriant mouth.
To my surprise, Johnny didn't spit out my cum. He swallowed it, then licked away the last droplets from the tip of my penis and gently caressed me as I slowly lost my erection. My chest heaved and my breath came in short, sharp gasps. I had come before, often, but never with such incredible intensity. Masturbation was a total waste of time if I could have Johnny's mouth on my dick.
Finally he rose up and lay full atop my body, his lips searching mine. I could feel his erection poking against my belly, and as dazed as I was by this, my first act of sex with another person--my first expression of physical love with and for another person--I longed to do for him what he'd just done for me.
As we kissed, I rolled Johnny over and repeated his own performance on his body: kissing his throat and his nipples, running my tongue down his body until I reached his briefs. I longed to pull his hard penis out of his shorts, to hold it in his trembling fingers and to kiss and suckle him as he had just done to me. But I wanted more. I wanted Johnny completely naked.
My cock, gradually losing its hardness, was still sticking out of my fly. I lay on my side, pushed it back into my briefs, then took them down and off, throwing them onto the pile of clothes on the floor. Then I began to pull at the waistband of his shorts, slowly revealing more and more of his beautiful tan skin. First the dark black hair emerged, thicker than mine, and straighter, like a wind‑swept bush. Then the shaft, dark and hard. Johnny lifted up his butt and I yanked the shorts off over his thighs. His dick lay thumping silently against his belly, and I stared at it in wonder.
It was about the same length as mine, but the shaft was arched and the head was shaped like the blade of a spear. His hairless scrotum was tight against his body, and I could just glimpse the beginnings of his muscled, round backside. I turned him over and stared in lustful fascination at his perfect butt. My hand hovered just above his right cheek, and I lowered it, thrilling to the silken feel of his beautiful behind.
I lay both hands on his buttocks and caressed them, squeezing them in wonder. My heart was thudding in my chest and my cock was slowly returning to life, jutting away from my crotch in desire. This was Johnny's backside I was fondling! The same sweet, sexy cheeks I'd gazed upon in secret shame now bared to my touch. It was an intoxicating moment, and I pushed it into the sensual stratosphere by lowering my head toward them and resting it on the perfect, rounded pillow of his buttocks.
Finally I turned Johnny over again. His dick was even harder now, and I took it gently between my fingers, gratefully exploring each millimeter of his proffered flesh with my hands, cupping his testicles and finally lowering my lips down to the glistening head.
My tongue licked the drop of pre‑cum on his glans and I savored it. The taste reminded me of almonds. The heavy sexual smell of him, his musk, infused my nostrils and spurred me on to lick and suckle the gift between my lips with hungry abandon. I drew it out again, gently lapping at the underside, circling the head--now with my tongue, now my lips--before thrusting it once more inside my delighted mouth, feeling its length, its contours, a newfound feeling on my tongue, his cock both hard and pliant, throbbing and alive.
He was writhing now, his long legs curling around my back, gripping me, his hands on my head, his hips jutting off the bed as he thrust his dick at me, his buttocks lifting up and falling down again on my open hands that squeezed and kneaded the gorgeous tan cakes as they descended, his breath coming fast, labored and rasping, the flow of the salty droplets on my tongue becoming more pronounced until, shuddering and crying out, he thrust up hard and fast and I felt his butt‑cheeks squeeze together as the rush of warm liquid splashed my gums. The shooting jism was a shock to my mouth, but because he'd swallowed mine I knew I should swallow his and I did, again and again, thrilled to have him inside me as I drank him down.
Already he was softening in my mouth, and I kissed away the last drops and threw my body onto his. His lips found mine again and kissed them, his passionate gratitude suffusing me. I could taste cum on his lips, and with a thrill I realized it was my own. My dick was throbbing again, wildly now, and I brushed it against his crotch, his belly, and finally between his open legs, buried snugly between his buttocks, where after a few more moments of heavy kissing--my prick rubbed to almost unbearable sexual tension by the grip of his buttocks around it--I began to come once more, as he used his clutching clenching butt‑cheeks to milk it until I climaxed and it spurted once more as I shook with release, the jet of hot milky semen shooting between his buttcheeks. Kissing his lips, my tongue against his, my body enflamed by his body pressed under it, I didn't care if he was a boy and not a girl, I loved him.
I lay my head against his heaving chest again and touched his nipple idly with an index finger. What were we supposed to do now? I wondered. Does it end? Will he feel embarrassed, guilty, throw his clothes on, order me to go home? No. He put his mouth on my ear again and whispered.
"How was that?"
I looked at him gratefully.
"Oh, Johnny--I--I loved it!" I gushed.
He kissed me again and smiled. We lay together in perfect bliss, time stopped, the press of his flesh against mine the only reality.
I moved slightly and became aware of myself again. It occurred to me that my spunk was drying between his butt‑cheeks, plastering the wispy black pubic hairs together in what I thought must be a painful glue. I sat up and fingered the half‑dried semen on the tip of my cock.
"Makes a mess, huh?" I smiled.
"Wanna take a shower?" he asked. It seemed the perfect idea to me.
"You first, or me?" I questioned.
He shook his head, smiling at my naiveté.
"You wash my back and I'll wash yours", he grinned.
I looked puzzled. He took my hand.
"C'mon, dummy," he said, laughing, leading me to the bathroom and turning on the shower spray, getting in and pulling me along behind him. We stood together under the hot rush of cleansing water, and he kissed me again.
We took turns washing each other's bodies, exploring further under the bright bathroom bulbs what had begun in the dimmer afternoon light of his bedroom. I stood with my head against his chest, leisurely soaping his back when he pressed a soapy finger between my buttocks and teased my anus. My cheeks clamped together suddenly: no one has ever touched me there except my pediatrician or me when I was bathing. Oh, but don't be stupid, it's Johnny, and it does feel nice, letting him press further, my butthole relaxing, and I soaped up my hand, pried his cheeks apart, and overcoming my toilet training, touched his anus (what a day of new experiences!) and pressed my finger inside. What a velvety sensation, hot and wet and silken.
Our penises were crushed together now, desire transforming mine for the third time this afternoon into a raging, burning stick of hard, needing, pliant and willful sex.
Finally, following his lead, I washed the soap from my backside and stepped out. We dried each other off and he went to the medicine cabinet, removed the jar of Vaseline and, hair still dripping, padded back toward his bedroom. My heart raced at the sight of his dark, tight, naked buttocks swinging with masculine grace before me as he walked, and my dick was a tight lightening rod leading me on. His hand reached out and I took it, following him, mesmerized by his body, golden‑tan and perfect, naked--and mine!--I realized with thudding heart; I was naked, too, and unashamed to be seen, not by this boy, not by Johnny. He held me to him and we lay our heads on each other's shoulders, our hands gently tracing the contours of our slim, boyish bodies.
Over his shoulder, I could see the clock, and I groaned--this time, in disappointment.
"I have to go home," I whispered. "Mom'll be looking for me soon. God, I wish I could stay."
We reluctantly broke our embrace and tried to ignore our stiffening cocks as we dressed in silence.
"Come over first thing in the morning," he said as I laced up my sneakers. "As early as you can. My folks won't be back 'til late Sunday evening."
It was Saturday tomorrow, Saturday all day. I got hard again imagining!
At the door, he reached for me and pulled me to him once more. He kissed me quickly, patted my butt and winked.
"Don't jack off tonight, okay?"
On my way out the door now, I stopped.
I looked at his face, slightly tired now from all the excitement of the past hour. His eyes sparkled, and my heart surged with love. He knew I loved him. I didn't have to say it. I kissed him once, then ran all the way home.
Later when I was sitting at the dinner table, I couldn't recall walking the five blocks from his house to mine. All evening long, I wondered if my family could tell the difference. Was it obvious that I had lost my virginity? Could they tell I'd sucked off another boy? Could they sense Johnny's smell on me as I could, lying in bed, intoxicated by his personal scent? Did they know that everything had changed?
My penis ached, sweetly, from him, for him, and it was all I could do not to beat off (no, save it, wait) before finally falling asleep to dream of Johnny's lean, tan body on mine, my thighs trembling, my anus twitching as he moved closer and closer to possession, and when I woke it was no surprise to me to feel the wet sticky spot on the sheets near my crotch. I got a damp cloth and scrubbed the spot, then fell back to fitful, lusty, bliss‑filled sleep.
I woke and hurled myself into my clothes, ate a fast bowl of cereal, brushed my teeth in a frenzy, then casually walked out the door and down the block, and as soon as I turned the corner, race madly for Johnny's.
He'd just gotten up when I got there, still in his robe, his black hair tousled and falling into his big, black eyes.
"Hey," he grinned.
"Hi," I said softly.
He smiled wryly.
"Did you jack off last night?"
I shook my head.
"But I had a wet dream."
"So did I."
I followed him to the bathroom and watched him as he stood by the bowl and emptied his bladder, no shame now between us, although as he flushed he caught me staring at his penis, ducked his pretty head and grinned shyly.
He ate his breakfast without a word and I watched him, our eyes locked, a stray giggle here and there marking our excitement, then off to the bathroom, teeth brushed while I sat on the toilet seat watching, and then slipped off his robe and I was out of my clothes and we were kissing on the john, he leading me again to the shower, a repeat performance, and I learned, following his lead, how to stand beneath the spray and fill my mouth with hot water and then add his cock to the mix and feel it thud against the roof of my mouth.
And after I'd scrubbed out my anus and washed away the soap, he turned me around and lowered me to my knees, bent me over the floor, parted my cheeks, warm rivulets falling between them, and I was shocked when his lips made contact, but the tingle and the rush of hot passion that accompanied the placement of his mouth on my butt‑hole was astonishing. And then his tongue, as it teased, licked, kissed, finally pressing in and I relaxed and let him enter me.
We toweled each other off and he took my hand once more, leading me to his bedroom. I stared at his adorable butt with lovesick devotion until we reached the bed and fell together, lips searching lips, mouths suckling, palms caressing. But even as my excited dick stiffened painfully in desire for him, a question had occurred to me, and I needed it answered. I broke our kiss and looked into his eyes.
My mind had been racing since yesterday. How did Johnny know so much about boy‑sex? This couldn't be his first time. Who had he been with before?
"Johnny," I murmured, tracing his right nipple with my index finger, "Am I your first?"
He nodded, smiling.
"Then how come you know so much about--about what to do?"
He put a finger to my lips and rolled off me, throwing his body off the bed. He knelt on the floor, his beautiful prick stabbing the air as he thrust one hand between the mattress and boxed springs.
"Remember my Uncle Kenjii's newsstand in Akron?" I did. We'd gone there once with Johnny's mother. "I got this from the shelves in the back when he wasn't looking."
He emerged with a magazine and tossed it onto the bed. It was a glossy book of about 35 pages, with a photo of two naked young guys embracing on the cover. It was called GAY SEX MANUAL.
I looked up at him, stunned. Was that the word for what I was? Gay? (Remember, this was the early '70s.) I'd heard all the locker‑room pejoratives, of course: homo, queer, cocksucker--FAGGOT. "Gay" seemed so much gentler.
I slowly opened the book. Page after page of explicit photos on slick high‑gloss paper greeted my eyes. The two young guys on the cover were shown engaging in what, to me, was an astonishing variety of acts and positions. Sucking. Ass‑licking. Fingering. Fucking. And accompanying the pictures was a detailed write‑up on each facet of lovemaking, with line drawings that illustrated male genitalia--cocks, asshole areas, prostates--and how to insert fingers, tongues and dicks.
"I've been jackin' off with this thing for months. I've practically got it memorized. I know how to do everything in it. I wanted to share it with you so many times, but up until yesterday I was afraid."
"I thought--I mean, I was afraid--Damn, Johnny--you knew so much, I thought maybe you'd been with some other guy besides me."
He shook his head, smiling.
"You're my first, Tim. You're my only."
I loved him more in that moment that I'd ever loved anyone before. I took his gorgeous face between my hands and kissed his warn, plump lips.
"You're my only, too, Johnny."
He grinned and took the magazine from me, shoving it back under the mattress.
"We can look at this later. We don't need it right now."
He climbed in beneath the sheets, and I scrambled after him. As I threw them back I revealed his excited sex. His arms were stretched toward me and I climbed in next to him and we kissed and fondled. We were both hard now, and when I reached down to take his cock in my hand, he stopped me gently.
He took my penis in his hand and drew it against his own. Gripping both tightly, he began to rub them together. The exquisite friction of his hardness grinding against mine made me gasp. On and on he rubbed us together, pressing our cocks back and forth against each other. As I felt my orgasm approach, he seemed to know instinctively, and he rubbed our dicks together even harder. Suddenly my mind exploded as I came, and I could feel his own juice pumping forth, covering mine, making our cocks slip and slide with agonizing pleasure.
When we were finished, we wiped each other off with soft towels, then fell to kissing again. Even though I was spent, I could feel a new erection beginning. Johnny gripped my shaft gently and smiled.
"Let's sleep awhile, huh?" he said.
I was confused. Weren't we going to have more sex? But I nodded.
He saw the look of consternation on my face and kissed me quickly.
"When we wake up, we'll do something really intense, okay?"
"Besides," he grinned as he took hold of my testicles, "We need to let these guys do some work."
I giggled softly, grabbed at his scrotum and kissed him. He lay on his side and I spooned my body against his, my crotch against his soft, silky buttocks. While he drifted off, my mind wandered. What were we going to do next? Somehow I too had managed to furtively ferret out books on sex at the library, guilty looking up references to homosexuality, for reasons I hadn't even been sure of. As I recalled the photos in Johnny's magazine, a stern and scholarly voice spoke a textbook definition in my head:
"Anal intercourse is the act of placing one's erect penis inside the anus of another."
Was that it? Were we going to put our cocks inside each other's butts? Were we going to do what those guys in the magazine were doing? Would we fuck?
The thought made my new erection even harder. I put my hand on Johnny's bottom and he murmured softly.
Yes, I thought, I want that. I want to feel my peter buried deep in Johnny's lovely warm bottom. I took my hand from his silken butt and put my arms around his slender waist. He murmured again and snuggled against me.
Then I thought about Johnny fucking me. I wanted that, too. I lay imagining how his peter would feel to me when it was up my butt. Would it hurt going in? I guessed it had to. But, god, I wanted him inside me. Somehow despite my excitement, fears and anxieties and hope, the sound of his softly falling breath lulled me into a deep sleep.
I woke to feel his mouth on my prick. As I stirred myself to consciousness, I knew immediately that I was hard again: Johnny was licking me to life.
I put my hands on his head and he spent some time sucking my dick before rolling onto my belly and kissing me. I kissed his lips gratefully and he broke off gently and grinned.
We kissed for a while, and I felt his beautiful, hard twig nestled below my sex, pressing upward between my thighs. I held his round buttocks and thought how different I felt from a mere few hours ago. Yesterday afternoon I was a virgin. This afternoon, I wasn't. Then, he was my greatest friend. Now, we were something else, something more perfect.
Johnny broke the kiss and rolled off my belly. He reached for the jar of petroleum jelly he'd brought from the bathroom and opened the lid.
As he stuck his fingers into the goo he looked at me and said, "Remember those guys in the magazine? I want you to put your dick in my butt, okay? I'll show you what to do."
Throwing off the sheets, he spread his legs wide; as I gaped in awe at the sight of his clenched, pink butthole, he reached his hand down toward its puckered mysteries and thrust the greasy fingers inside the rosebud and up his hot golden butt. I watched in heated fascination as his fingers disappeared up his anus; he moved them in and out of himself, and I could see his cock throbbing between his thighs as he lubricated his tight butthole.
He withdrew finally and put another glob of the stuff on his hand. Reaching for my rigid cock, he coated it with the jelly and pointed it with decisiveness toward his now glistening anus.
"Go ahead, stick it in. But go slow, okay? Go real slow. Remember, I've never done this before either."
I knelt and he guided me, relaxing his hole and letting the tip of my prick slide into his anus. The tight wetness of it made me gasp; its elastic grip was sweeter than anything I've ever felt in a hundred dark nights of jacking off in my bed. Johnny relaxed further and as I began to glide--millimeter-by-millimeter--inside him, he grimaced and sucked in his breath slightly, tightening.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked, chagrined to think I'd caused him pain.
"No, it's okay. Just wait a sec. Let me get used to it."
I felt his butt‑muscles expand and contract on the head of my dick. It made me shudder. After a few moments, he nodded.
"Go ahead. But real slow, okay?"
I felt his anus relaxing again, and before long the length of me lay embedded in his hot‑moist ass. I swooned on his chest, in ecstasy to be inside him (my penis inside his butt!). He used his hips to push and pull, rise and fall, urge me in and push me halfway out again, until I began to get the rhythm going myself, his legs now wrapped around me, and I noticed that when I pushed up he moaned and thrust his bottom back at me, and it didn't take long, I was too excited by this, by the heat and the wet, sucking, slurping sounds our lubricated body parts made, the grip of his thighs and calves hugging my body, his hands on my buttocks, squeezing, pushing, urging me on, and the incredible tightness that gripped my poor, aching dick, grasping and relaxing, pulling me in, and by knowing it was Johnny beneath me, my best friend--my lover!--and I heard myself cry out and my lips sought his and I clutched him and come: a violent, wrenching, raging spasm of sexual release tearing its way from the top of my head and down my spine and electrifying my anus and bursting up from my toes and burbling, spewing, spurting from my testicles and out the tip of my stabbing, jabbing cock.
He cried out too and came, in that moment, his dick pressed against my belly, splashing my navel, his butthole tightening even more, clutching, spasming, gripping, relaxing, milking every drop from my super‑sensitive genitalia, making me wince and shudder and moan in exquisite torture until I fell on him, both of us exhausted, spent, breathing hard, heaving chests, penises softening, bodies shuddering to a stop and when I finally was unable to keep inside him any longer, my dick slipped sadly out of his butt and I kissed his lips and I was so in love I could have sung with it.
We wiped each off again and fell asleep in each other's arms. As I was drifting off with my head on his chest, Johnny promised that tomorrow if I wanted, he'd show me how to take him inside me.
I woke before him, thrilled to feel his body spooned against mine but disappointed to see the sun growing dimmer outside the bedroom window. I knew I'd have to go soon, but I wanted to show Johnny how much I appreciated what he'd done for me.
I threw off the blanket and ran my eyes up and down his beautiful, naked body. His back was to me, and I gazed at the perfect V his shoulders made, tracing the line down his back to his wonderful butt. It was slightly parted, and staring at it made me grow an instant hard‑on.
The magazine was under the bed, and I took it out, looking for guidance. I studied the drawings, memorizing the sexual anatomy. Then I scootched down below Johnny's waist and lay my hands on his beautiful, golden ass. Placing one hand on each buttock, I moved slowly him so that he lay, still asleep, on his belly. He stirred, and his cheeks parted. I stared at his little pink hole.
It's now, or never, I thought to myself. I moved my face closer to his butt and kissed each round cheek. He began to stir, moaning softly, and I spread his bottom wide open, pressing my face between his perfect ass‑cakes. He smelled of sandalwood soap, and it intoxicated me. I darted my tongue toward his butthole and glanced against it. When the earth didn't explode around me, my courage grew. I lapped his anus, tentatively at first, and then with greater gusto.
He was fully awake now, and pushing his butt back in pleasure. I traced the velvety smoothness of his hairless pucker, then slipped the tip of my tongue inside. His sphincter clamped down on me and he groaned. Then he relaxed, and I was able to slide my tongue in further. Johnny was moaning and writhing on the bed as I shoved my tongue as far up his bottom as I could.
After a few minutes, I withdrew from his hot wet hole and reached for the jelly. He rolled over and watched as I globbed it on my index finger. I smiled at him and he smiled back as he reached for his naked hardness and began to stroke himself. I slipped my greased‑up finger between his hairless cheeks and grazed his butthole, inserting it until the tip slid past his tight ass‑ring and he gripped it hard, gasping sharply. When he was relaxed again, I pressed on, my finger moving slowly up his butt until I touched a knot inside him and he groaned loudly.
"Is that your prostate?" I asked in awe.
"Yes--keep touching it!"
When I made contact with his little pleasure‑knot, he groaned again, clamping down on me with his sphincter. I began to message his button as his hips bucked up and his hand became a blur as he caressed his pulsating cock‑shaft faster and faster. I leaned over him then and when our lips met his asshole spasmed wildly and I felt the furious pumping of his prostate as he came, splashing our bellies with hot jizz, his butthole pulsating, clutching, clenched tight on my finger.
When it was over, I let my finger slip out of his sexy bottom and we kissed again. Then I reached for my cock and beat myself off as he watched.
Finally, I sat up and wiped us off with a towel.
"I gotta get home, Johnny," I said. He sighed, then nodded. "I'll be back in the afternoon, as soon as we've had lunch."
His face brightened.
"Okay. I'll be waiting."
"Don't beat off tonight," I echoed him, smiling. I nibbled on his ear and then whispered into it: "You gotta be ready to fuck me tomorrow."
He kissed me gratefully and I dressed. Despite my smile, I was scared. But I also knew I wanted Johnny inside me, wanted to give him my most private place, just as he had done for me. Then we would be one. True boy‑friends. He'd given me such pleasure, so much love, I had to do the same for him.
It took a long time for me to get to sleep that night. Partly from excitement and fear, and partly because I stole into the bathroom after everyone was asleep and took the jar of petroleum jelly to my bedroom, where I practiced opening myself up. Relaxing my sphincter. Making ready for the loving assault of Johnny's penis up my virgin butt.
Church had always bored me, but this Sunday morning it was a kind of prolonged torture. I sat in the hard pew, thinking only of Johnny's naked body against my own. I got an instant erection and then blushed guiltily. A hard‑on--in church! I heard the Presbyterian minister say that God was Love, but I didn't think this was what he meant! I also doubted that His love couldn't hold a candle to Johnny's. Or maybe when Johnny and I made love we performed some kind of sacrament, something spiritual. If God was love, and we loved and expressed that love in making love, then maybe being naked together somehow brought us closer to God.
Finally, the service ended and I was forced to endure the long wait until Sunday dinner, always a ritual in my family, was ready. Normally a careful eater, today I wolfed down my food, conscious only of the ticking of the clock. It was two already, and Johnny's family would be back by nine.
Letting my fork crash to my empty plate, I announced I was spending the afternoon at Johnny's. After bolting from the table, I brushed my teeth and raced out the front door before anyone could stop me with another delay.
I was at Johnny's in three minutes flat.
When he greeted me, I ran in and slammed the door behind me. Then I pulled him to me and kissed him passionately, one hand gripping his neck and the other fastening onto his luscious butt.
When the kiss broke, Johnny grinned slyly.
"Boy, are you in a hurry!"
I blushed. He squeezed my left butt‑cheek and we went to his room.
We shed our clothing slowly, drawing the disrobing out by kissing and caressing as we went from shirts to shoes to pants to briefs. When we were both fully naked, I lay back and Johnny lowered himself onto me as we kissed. I spread my thighs and he slid his crotch between them. I loved the feel of his bushy silken crotch‑hair as it tickled my skin, but mostly I luxuriated in his hard slender cock in my ass‑crack.
"You still want me to fuck you?" he asked me softly.
"More than anything."
He reached for the Vaseline on his night table and moved down my body until he was kneeling between my legs. More of his tongue in my butt, me gripping the bedstead now in ecstatic tension, my dick throbbing and swaying. After a few minutes of his lips deep soul‑kissing my asshole, he moved back again. Sitting up, he stuck his index finger into the jar and asked me if I remembered touching his prostate. I nodded.
"I'm gonna touch yours now. It feels incredible."
With that he pushed his greasy finger against my anus, spreading the jelly around my pucker. After applying more Vaseline to his finger he told me to relax and I felt the astonishing push of his index finger as it slid gently inside me.
His finger swabbed me, teasing me open, curled up inside my ass, the muscles giving way now, and his finger poked softly against something that made my prick stab the air and my sphincter tighten down. Then the finger withdrew and in a moment his wet cock was between my legs, and oh is this going to hurt!
"Johnny, I'm scared."
His lips in my ear in answer, whispering, "I'll take it slow, I promise. If it does hurt, it'll only hurt a little, you'll see. If it hurts too much, you tell me and I'll stop. I'll take care of you, Tim." And he kissed me.
His unspoken admission of love warmed my heart. But it did hurt, the head piercing my virgin hole, it hurt like hell, and I gasped and cried out, and he withdrew quickly, waited, kissed my lips and tweaked my nipples and played gentle games with my dick until I lost my tension, and he put the greasy head at my anus again and went inside once more, slowly, slowly, and then, with a painful push (but brief, the pain, over as soon as it starts), he was in, the glans resting inside, and the shaft followed, and he got it all the way in, I felt his little bush and his nuts against my butt.
"God, Johnny! I can't believe you're in me! Ohhh--it feels so good!"
He took my hand and guided it to the space between my cheeks and I touched his balls, his pubic hair, yes, yes, it's in, he's in, in me, Johnny, in me, of me, up me, inside me now, yes! And he began to move then, building up a faster rhythm and I found my hips pushed back, my butt shoved against him, meeting his thrusts, willing him on, oh, god, this is great!
His lips were on my chest, my shoulders, my ears, my neck ("I love you, I love you", who's speaking now?--him, me, both together?), the sounds, the smells, the feel of him inside me, faster now, my cock beneath me growing, thudding, excited beyond anything it's ever known by the feel of his dick inside my butt. He put his hands on it, yanking, jerking, his balls slapping my bottom, touching my balls, nearing the edge now and he lifted me gently and placed me on his lap, our bodies connected the whole time--his penis in my butt--and my cock flapped against my belly, my balls bouncing, his shaft thrusting, and oh, I can't stand it, I'm coming now, his lips on mine in a deep and searching kiss, and my anus clenched tight on his spear, gripping it, tugging, and he gasped and cried out, shoving up fast one last time, spasming, spurting, spraying my bowels now, then falling back, I fell with him, and he was kissing me, my virginity fully completely utterly gone now, every opening introduced to his body, no turning back, my whole self given up to this boy I loved.
I kissed him gratefully, only thinking some of this, saying more of it: thank you, Johnny, I didn't know I wanted this, but oh, I wanted this!
His wonderful dick slipped slowly out now, my butt suddenly felt empty, unfulfilled, I wanted him inside me always. I pictured myself carrying Johnny around the halls of our school on my back, his dick up my ass, and it made me giggle.
"What?" he asked.
"It's nothing," I smiled. I slithered my way up to his face and we kissed as professions of adoration passed softly between us, those we couldn't say fully dressed and face to face: I love you. I love you.
For now, it was enough.