Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2017 17:58:52 -0500 From: user Subject: Aaron's Basement -- Part 1 (submission for the Beginnings category) From doctordestiny@comcast.net . AARON'S BASEMENT Part 1 By Dudley Jarvis-North For a 14-year-old kid growing up in the city, recreation wasn't easy to come by. My friends and I were from poor families, yet we managed to have fun hanging out, coaxing an older guy to buy us cigarettes, stealing beers from the family fridge and sharing them. We were Irish, Italian, Jewish, Polish boys -- all different but with one obsession -- beating off in order to make "jizz." Most of us had learned the joys of masturbating but the younger ones in our gang couldn't raise cum at the end. It wasn't from lack of trying. We had heard about "jizz" for the first time from Aaron, the 19-year-old hottie who lived next door. Aaron was everyone's idol because he smoked cigarettes and shared them with us (points); wore a black leather motorcycle jacket (more points); had quit high school (mega points); rode a black Triumph motorcycle (super mega points). He worked at the local bowling alley -- mostly nights -- so after school we would go down to his basement where he hung out in a corner sitting in a swivel chair, his feet on a makeshift desk -- an old door laid on two 50-gallon oil drums. I remember the place was dank, dusty, and stank of oil. My friend Bernie and I would listen to Aaron tell stories about his sexual conquests. He was currently dating Karen, who would cling to his leather jacket on bike rides to Castle Island in South Boston, where there were hidden places near the old fortress where guys could have sex with girls in the dark. We were enthralled by the details of his making Karen pull down his jeans and give him blowjobs until he "made jizz," as he called it. Karen didn't swallow because she thought jizz was gross, nor would she let Aaron fuck her, he complained bitterly, because she was afraid of getting pregnant . Her Catholic parents would have killed her. Bernie and I would get hard in our pants, but that was the extent of any action until one day after school. Bernie had to take a family trip to Western Massachusetts to visit his aunt, who was gravely ill. So I went to Aaron's basement alone that day. He was doing his usual thing, listening to rock songs on his portable radio on WMEX, one of Boston's three rock stations. He was deep into a Lucky Strike, his favorite brand. His legs were stretched out, accentuating his long legs and tight jeans. He was wearing his white Marlon Brando T-shirt -- this was the `60s before colored T's were common. He was slim-hipped, dark-haired with an Elvis Presley DA (duck's ass) in the back, blue eyes, handsome. He looked like Anthony Perkins in "Psycho" without the pathology. Without Bernie with me, I had more of a chance to admire Aaron's physicality without betraying my burgeoning interest in men. I loved his slenderness, and the way his jeans hugged his hips and curved promisingly at the crotch. His T-shirt showed off his broad shoulders and sprigs of black hair curled out of his crew neck. His arms were hairy as well. I couldn't take my eyes off his face either --with his American boy-next-door looks -- full lips, white teeth, dimples, prominent eyes, strong eyebrows. I thought he was a god, but I hadn't connected my admiration for him into anything sexual -- not yet. I was too young and stupid to know why my crotch surged in anticipation of seeing him. Aaron, looked up and smiled, "Squirt, where's your buddy today?" I explained and Aaron nodded. "Nice to see you alone for a change. You like my stories, don't you?" "Yes, I love them." "I thought you did," he became more animated. "I saw your eyes light up when I talked about Castle Island." "That was amazing, Aaron. I can't believe you do that stuff with Karen." "Did," he corrected me. Karen's history. I took her there late last night. She gave me a lousy blowjob and again she wouldn't let me fuck her. I didn't even shoot my jizz. I need someone who'll give me more than what she can give, if you know what I mean. And he winked. "No more Karen? I was surprised. "I think I understand," not at all understanding what that would mean or what the wink meant. In truth I was worried about not hearing any more of his stories. "You know, Squirt, with no Karen I'm going to need sex from somebody else. I'm horny all the time and I'm not into jerking off. I need another person to help me out or I'll go crazy." He put his hand on his crotch. As I was squirming, I wondered why he said "person" instead of "girl"? "Maybe I shouldn't tell you this,' he said, "but I have a friend from the bowling alley -- Kenny. I let him blow me once right here in the basement. Do you want to hear about it?" My face reddened with excitement. I wanted to hear about it more than I wanted to breathe. "I noticed that Kenny always seemed to be looking at my bulge -- sort of like you are doing right now, and I asked him if he wanted to come down to my basement. So I took three beers from my dad's stash in the fridge and met him here. "He got a little drunk and he was looking at my crotch. Finally I couldn't wait anymore." "Kenny, do you want to suck my dick? He didn't answer. He just dropped his head." "Did Kenny do it?" I stammered, much more excited by this than any stories about Karen. "Whaddya think, Squirt?" Of course. He was hot for my dick." "Tell me what happened, Aaron." I can't believe a guy did that to you." "I ordered Kenny to come closer and I traced my finger on his lips, then pushed it into his mouth. Kenny started sucking my finger, so I stood up, pushed his shoulders down and put Kenny on his knees. He had his mouth on the front of my jeans, so I unzipped and told him to unbuckle me so that he could get a look at it. He was a little afraid because he had never blown a guy before. But he got into it. I know because he keeps talking about visiting my basement again. "You know, Squirt, I like the idea of letting rookies suck on my dick. It feels as if I'm helping a buddy find himself and getting off at the same time. So I'm going to ask you the same question. Do you want to suck my dick?" I moved myself closer to Aaron, who pushed his legs out onto the desk and took my hand and moved it onto his crotch. "Go ahead, unbuckle me. " My hands trembled. "Unbutton my pants. Pull down the zipper." I followed instructions. "I always thought you wanted to, you know. I could tell by the way you looked at my crotch while I was telling my stories," he said, without a smirk. I was grateful that he knew what I wanted but didn't call me any names like "sissy," or faggot, words my friends threw around. As I unzipped him, his white BVDs came into view. "Feel my dick through my shorts." My hand moved almost automatically. I could feel the outline of a dick much bigger than mine -- a man's seven-incher -- hard and snaking to the right as the head had popped out of the sides of his briefs. Aaron was not circumcised. He lifted himself up off the chair. "Pull down my jeans and shorts." Into view popped his splendid dick, as long and lean as he was, with a long foreskin that reminded me of my older brother's seen one day while he was showering and I had to pee. Aaron had black hair between his pectoral muscles that traveled down his stomach and met a full bush of pubic hair. "Go ahead, touch the head first. Get to know it. It likes attention. Now, pull my skin back, but you need to get your face closer." I kneeled on the cement floor and moved closer to his groin. "Touch it," he commanded as he pulled me even closer. "I'm going to teach you to work it better than Karen. I know you'll be much better. You have nicer lips."" I realized then that Aaron wanted more than for me to touch his dick. He wanted a "blowjob." I blurted out that I didn't know how to give a blowjob. "Am I supposed to blow on your dick?" I asked. Aaron filled me in. "You really don't blow on a cock --- you lick it, suck it, use your tongue and lips on it. That's what you are going to do right now. You better move even closer." I told him I really wanted to, which triggered his hand on the back of my head pushing me onto his dick. I only had to open my lips. I flicked my tongue along the head and pursed my lips around the skin that was pulled forward into a pucker, even though he was rock hard. Aaron commanded me to use my tongue to get under his foreskin. "Lick it for me, Squirt." As I pursed my lips and he moved his pelvis up and down the velvet skin moved back and forth in my mouth and I could taste something salty and a little gamey, almost like the tubes of provolone that hung at the Italian grocery store where I worked. I had no idea what precum was in those days but I could feel something seeping into my mouth. At first I thought it was piss, but Aaron saw the frightened look on my face and said, "That's not what you think. It's just the start of my jizz seeping out. "It tastes good. You'll see." He began to coach me. "Suck it slowly, that's right." Push your teeth back toward your cheeks so you don't scrape me. The head is a little sensitive ... oh, your mouth feels really good. Open wider; let me get more of my dick inside. If you do a good job, I'll give you a surprise." He pushed my head down a few inches and I started to gag, so he retreated. "That's OK, you're just learning. Soon you'll be taking the whole thing down your throat. But that's for another day. Today, I just want you to get used to it in your mouth." I let his cockhead sit on my tongue and wondered what the surprise was. His load? I was apprehensive about it going in my mouth. Still, I wondered how much he could shoot -- likely much more than I do -- and what it tasted like. Suddenly, Aaron pulled his dick out of my mouth, pushed me away and told me to lie face up on the cement floor. He pulled off his jeans past his sneakers and pulled his briefs off, too. I was supine on the floor as he swung one leg around my shoulders as if he were mounting his motorcycle. His hairy crotch was in my face and I could smell his sweat as he lowered his hairy balls onto my lips. He told me he wanted me to clean his balls with my tongue and spit. I was pinned down by his bigger body with his balls pushing against my mouth. Their smell was intoxicating. He lifted his balls and told me to open my mouth as wide as I could. He put them almost all the way in and told me clean them with spit. I liked the feeling of the rubbery sack and sponginess and tried to make as much spit as I could. While this was going on, Aaron pushed the pucker of his dick up to my nostrils, pulled back the skin, and told me to smell it. Despite my licking it earlier, it smelled tangy and strong. He started to slide his foreskin back and forth. The closer he got to my nose, the stronger the smell got -- like the cheese I mentioned earlier. He pulled his balls out of my mouth and replaced it with his skinned-back dick. He said his dick was "ripe," although I had no idea what that meant in terms of a dick. He said that uncircumcised dicks retain a guy's cum and piss flavor and it stays inside the foreskin. He said he wanted me to help clean his foreskin. I liked that idea. He reached over for his jeans, rolled them up into a pillow, and put them behind my head to prop it up. He began to slide his dick in and out of my mouth -- slowly at first, telling me to lie still as he grabbed the back of my head with both hands to gain leverage. After a couple of minutes he started to push faster and deeper and I could feel the head of his dick hitting against my throat. He told me to relax, breathe through my nose, and let him take my mouth. After a couple of more minutes of drilling me, Aaron began to make loud pleasurable noises and I felt my mouth fill up with liquid -- a thick, syrupy paste. He told me he had "jizzed" in my mouth and to swallow-- that I had just given my first blowjob. I let Aaron's jizz slide down my throat. I didn't brush my teeth until the next day, even thought his flavor disappeared in an hour. I couldn't believe that the neighborhood stud had let me suck his dick. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. We repeated this scene many times in the next few months, sometimes with him standing and me kneeling in front of him. Sometimes, he sat in his chair and I knelt in front of him; sometimes, he made me unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans and briefs with my mouth and teeth as he had tied my hands behind my back. Sometimes, he didn't fuck my mouth at all; he just lay back in his chair and made me do all the work, especially as I got better at sucking him off. We did other things, too, but that's for the next chapter. When he moved away -- he had "knocked up" up a girl -- it was the saddest day of my life. =================================================== Hi, Nifty readers. Thanks for reading my stuff. I've enjoyed many of the stories on here. Lots of good, hot, entertaining writing. Please donate to the site. Other stories I've posted are The Bass Player and The Pact, (Encounters), Drink It (Urination), and James (couldn't find it). Be glad to hear from you if these stories are entertaining. doctordestiny@comcast.net