Date: Tue, 2 Jun 2009 20:43:44 -0400 (EDT)
From: Clark Building <clarkbldg@earthlink.net>
Subject: Eating the Upper Crust

Montecito is a rural kind of area south of Santa Barbara where there are
many large mansions and large estates. Oprah Winfrey has a huge home there.
Years ago when I was in the seventh grade, I lived in Montecito for awhile
when my father managed the Montecito Inn, a small hotel built by film star
Charlie Chaplin. This was in the 50's and the hotel was kinda run down and
not at its best. I went to Santa Barbara Junior High and took the school
bus from Montecito. A girl named Susan Reed was also on that bus and also
in the 7th grade. I had transferred in from Santa Monica and was really
supposed to be in the 8th grade, but in moving I had missed half of the
school year so I repeated the second half of 7th grade. I was therefore a
year older than most in that grade. Anyway, Susan was a very classy rich
bitch, living as she did in one of the more modest mansions in Montecito.
Her step-father was some kind of business consultant and her mother was a
former beauty queen, owner of a cosmetic company and frequently gone to Los
Angeles on business. Susan and I became friends because she was isolated
and alone much of the time. She was so pretty that it was obvious to both
of us that when she got older, she would marry some wealthy bastard and a
poor schmuck like me would not have the slightest chance. But, in seventh
grade, we could be friends, if nothing more.

For several months near the end of the school year, I went to her house and
we would watch TV or play board games or ride our bicycles around the
foothill roads that wound around the big estates of Montecito. It was an
amazing thing to see those gigantic homes with miles of manicured lawns all
surrounded by high walls and private woods. Hardly ever see the people,
sometimes a big car going through the gates, in or out. That was all. What
made the story of Susan important to me was that one day after the school
year was finished and summer vacation started, I went to her house and
nobody was home except her step-father. He told me that Susan was spending
the summer with her biological father in Seattle. Mr. Reed, the stepfather,
had always been really nice to me when I had visited there.

A little too nice, actually, as I felt funny when he would often hug me a
little too tight, a little too long. Not that I objected or resisted. As I
have told before, I was not new to physical contact, sexual stuff, with men
or other boys, having been introduced to adult male cocks by my uncle Jim
when I was ten. What I had learned, and Susan apparently was too naive or
ignorant to detect, was that her mother and stepfather were both bisexual.
Her mother had girlfriends in Los Angeles and she had often spent weekends
there while Mr. Reed, her stepfather, liked young men, or boys, as he could
find them in the tourist Mecca of Santa Barbara. Frequently, when I would
visit Susan, her step-father would have a young "friend" spending the
night. Susan seemed totally unaware, but I knew the code of behavior to
watch for.

Every time Mr. Reed looked at me or touched me, I knew the seduction was
afoot and I just smiled knowingly at him, he knew that I knew. So, on that
day when he told me that Susan was gone for the summer, I knew and he knew
that I would return once or twice weekly in her absence, to be with him. My
parents would assume that I was visiting Susan and I would never say
otherwise. That day Mr. Reed had been out on the tennis court, practicing
his dynamite serve, and I was just in time for his shower.

"Would you like to join me?" he asked me.

I was just a little shocked at the rapidity of his advance, but not
inclined to refuse. We were alone, nobody to catch us, no reason to have to
hurry or reason to fear anything. He was tall, trim, and really fit for a
guy his age, late forties. I found myself totally curious about his cock,
which I had never seen, but I had felt it stiff against my upper torso when
he once hugged me a long time while Susan was outside, not watching.
Nothing brings out the girl in me like being able to give a hard-on to a
grown man. He often wore his tennis shorts so I had seen his long muscular
legs and tight ass. I had seen his narrow waist and toned upper body when
he would take off his shirt to show off, which he liked to do when I was
around. I was never much attracted to men, but I found him to be a nice
specimen, still I wanted to see his cock.

I always liked the cocks better than anything else. When we got into the
warm shower together for the first time, I got my good look at his cock
when I found myself on my knees washing his cock and balls before taking it
into my hungry little mouth. It was like the rest of him, long and thin
with a kind of pointy head. It was nice to suck because I could take the
head into my mouth and have enough left to jack off with my little hands.
Like me, he was uncircumcised, an uncommon thing around California, but
something I liked because I knew how to work it best.

When you suck an uncircumcised dick, you have to pull back the foreskin and
expose the sensitive glans. It is more sensitive than the cut dicks,
because the sheath of the foreskin protects it from the desensitizing
constant contact with clothing that the head of a circumcised cock must
endure. Naturally, the increased sensitivity may give rise to premature
ejaculation, so it has that potential disadvantage. My experience is that
two orgasms may be had in the time that it takes the cut dick to shoot
once.

In any event, Mr. Reed stopped me before shooting his load, he wanted to
save it for later. I liked his cock instinctively and realized just after
the shower why I had that reaction. He dried me off and took me to his
bedroom, way, way down a long hallway, remote from the living and dining
areas of the house. Privacy was everywhere apparent, I thought, as he
closed and locked us in his chamber of untold sins. No sooner was I on his
bed than he turned me face down and slapped a gob of Vaseline into the
crack of my ass. Five seconds later, his rod greased, he covered me with
his body and began thrusting that fine long cock into my teenaged
asshole. For a brief time, I thought it would not go in and the pain was
frightening. I might not be able to take it. It might damage my hole. Tears
were in my eyes, but did not cry out. I wanted it, wanted it bad. He told
me to bear down and hold it. I did what I was told, I always did. He kept
working it in, little by little, thrust and withdraw, finally the
lubrication got where it was needed and I felt his long dick slide up my
ass, the pain remained but it was a good kind of pain and I wanted it. I
wanted it so bad.

"Oh God, fuck me," I begged.

He went faster, harder. He spread my legs, had me lift my ass in the air as
he rose to his knees and the slap of his loins on my butt was the rhythmic
sound I heard with my own breathless grunting and groaning and his panting
and he exerted his whole body in fucking me to a pulp. It was great and
long before he shot his load into my ass, I had ejaculated all over the
sheets.

Afterwards, he held me and French kissed me. I wasn't much into that, but
just let it happen and gradually I liked it. We rested awhile and went back
to shower where he sat on the floor and I sat on his cock and lifted myself
up and down on his pole until it went off again. Mr. Reed and I spent much
of that summer together and it got so comfortable that he would come over
to the hotel to pick me up. My parents said "Hi" to him and everything.
They thought I was going with him to visit Susan.

One night we didn't even go to his house, we just parked near the beach and
I sucked him off in the car. I had never sucked off a guy in a car before;
I loved it.

Then, my Dad took a job in San Diego. We moved a week or two later and I
never saw Mr. Reed again. Too bad. But San Diego had some good times for
me. I'll tell you about it sometime.