WRESTLING a romantic narrative  by Larry Long

 I remember standing outside the window of Jon's house, I remember doing
that 
often, looking into the ground-floor and seeing him there lifting weights,
stripped to his supporter, usually, on those hot summer days in the Texas
PanHandle.  Jon was my brother's friend - pretty much his best friend, and
they were both 17, three years older than I was.  Jon was strong and well
built and handsome, devoted to his wrestling, his weight lifting, and his
looks.  At fourteen I wasn't much on any of those things, but my brother
was,
and they were inseparable partners in their workouts.

 But, sometimes Jon would be alone, working out in the Recreation Room of
his
family's split/level ranch house in the town in which I grew up, and on
those
days, walking by on my way from no-place to no-place in the hot summer
afternoon, I would creep up to his window and look.  His torso would be
stripped and sweating, beads of sweat turning into little streams as they
ran 
unhindered by any hair down his smooth chest.  His chest and legs were
hairless, as was his buttocks which I could tell because of his preference
for
working out wearing only his jockstrap.  Houses were not so commonly air
conditioned where we were, and while his was, he didn't turn it on his
workouts, leaving the windows open and letting himself work up a good
sweat.
My brother had hair on some of those parts, most heavily around his
buttocks
and on his legs and arms, though he did have some on his back, too, even
then,
at the age of 17.  But Jon didn't he was as smooth as I was, and I was
very
smooth, even for 14.

 He would strip in that room, also, before his workouts, and sometimes I
would
be early enough to see that too.  That would excite me, though I didn't
really
have much experience to relate it to, having only learned about
masturbating,
jacking/off, earlier that year from my cousin, Dave.  But I would arrive
sometimes and see Jon come into the room wearing his sweat-suit, a gym
suit
from school, or his jeans and a t-shirt, and he would sit on his bench
press
and take off his sneakers, then pull his t-shirt off over his head, and
then
slowly untie his drawstring gym pants and slip them down over his
buttocks,
thighs, and legs, pulling them off each foot at a time, since they had
elastic
around the ankles.  He did it what I would now consider to be sensuously,
although then I didn't know that, just knew that it got me excited to see
it.

 The sensuousness of the way he undressed stopped with the jockstrap.  Jon
was
tremendously hung and big of balls, and the bulge in his jock was large. 
Since
he was always kind of soft/hard, (he had that kind of dick), the jock
always
looked very full.  He seemed to like the feeling of his bare butt hugged
by the
straps, he would adjust them a lot, pulling the jock around, fitting his
dick
and balls in a number of different positions, and then adjusting the
ass/straps, then starting all over again.

 He would do much of this adjusting and fiddling with his parts sitting on
his
bench, rubbing his bare butt up against the cool surface of the wood.  It
was
an old bench, not vinyl covered like the new ones, but polished smooth by
years
of his body rubbing against it, and I supposed of his older brother's
before
him and maybe his father's too.  After that, he would straddle the bench,
his
legs on either side, and slide around a little, getting his position on
the
bench.  That would open up his ass a little, so that his lower crotch and
groin
would be pressed up against the bench.  This must have gotten him a little
excited, because his jock would always swell a little in the pouch at this
point, and I tried never to miss that moment, right before he would lie
down on
his back and begin to press the weights.

 Jon was the wrestling team captain of the local high school, and was a
hero to
all of us boys, especially jr. high schoolers who were on their way to
high
school.  He was my brother's best friend, which, in the neighborhood, made
me a
hero by association.  I wasn't particularly athletic in nature, but was
wiry
and strong and wrestled around a lot with my friends, as much for the
sexual
contact amongst us as for the sport.  I think we all did at that age,
there was
a lot of groping and grappling and grabbing, and many more times a hand
grabbed
a crotch than was necessary for a pin.  And speaking of pins, it was hard
to
tell, sometimes, what constituted winning, pinning someone or being
pinned,
since the most common position in which to be pinned was someone's chest
grinding into your crotch.  We all got hard doing it, and no one ever
stopped,
so I guess we all did it for that.  There was some good natured kidding
around,
and some of the guys would catcall to others, saying "Hey, Bob, that your
dick
or do you have a pencil in your pocket?", or "that a pencil in your pocket
or
do you love me that much?", things like that, but everyone got hard, so
nobody
was so embarrassed that he stopped.

 But Jon would sometimes give me pointers and lessons.  He was, after all,
my
brother's best friend and would be at our house at least as often as he
hung
around anywhere else, and a lot of times he and my brother would work out
together, either at our place or his, and they would go through move,
throws,
positions, etc.  And, as often as I could arrange to be, I would hang out
with
them and watch, bring them things they wanted, like a soda, or a piece of
pie,
or a towel, and sometimes Jon would say to me, "Hey, Glen, you want me to
show
you a new fall?", or "Glen, you want me to work on that pin with you?",
and I
would be there, my body up against his now sweat covered body, then,
suddenly,
pinned under his greater size and weight.  Being thrown by Jon was always
like
that, we would wrestle around for a couple of minutes, then, suddenly,
without
having any idea of how it happened, there I would be, on my back, with his
body
pressing into mine and pinned to the ground.    At those time, unlike with
my
friends, I would try to keep his weight off of my crotch, because I didn't
want
him to know that I was hard.  With other guys my own age, it was ok, after
all,
we were all hard, and we all jacked off together at some time or another,
or
more than once, all us friends.  But Jon was my big brother's friend, my
hero,
my love.  I didn't want him to start to call me queer, or to get turned
off to
working out with me and in front of me, so I tried to keep him from seeing
the
fact that my dick, which had just become a full sized tool that year, was
swelling.  Sometimes, I would have to ask him to get up off of me and let
me go
to the bathroom, I would tell him I had to go and was going to wet my
pants.  I
was going to wet my pants all right, but not with piss.  I would rush off
to
the bathroom and whack my meat off in about 10 seconds, wash it up and
come
back.  I don't know how he could have missed my hard-on pressing against
my
pants, but he never said anything about it.

 Sometimes Jon would come over to our house and my brother wouldn't be
there.
Most of the time he would just leave, telling me to tell Dave that he
would be
at someplace or another, and that he should catch up with him, but this
particular summer, the summer of my 14th year and his summer before
college, he
would, sometimes, come in when Dave wasn't there and hang around me for a
while.  Maybe because our house was air conditioned, and it was very hot
that
summer, or maybe because my mom, knowing that she had two very hungry boys
in
the house and also all our friends, always left the refrigerator and the
kitchen pantry well stocked with snacks, pies, ice cream, drinks, and
other
goodies.  A couple of very hot days he just came in and watched a little
television with me, sitting in our den in the air conditioned comfort, and
during the commercials he would wrestle around with me a bit, throwing his
big
arm over my shoulder and pressing me into the couch.  This was what he and
my
brother would do when they were just "sitting around" and "hanging out",
and I
thought it was great to be considered ok in this way.

 Well, this summer was his last, he was on his way to college the next
year,
accepted both because he was a good student and on a scholarship for his
wrestling.  He was going to be going to school in the East, to Penn State,
and
wouldn't be home much after that, so he and my brother, who was going into
the
Navy, were spending a lot of time together.  And this was a hot summer,
very
hot, and when he wasn't at our house, he was in his workroom at home,
stripped
to those comfortable, familiar, and well stretched jock straps, and
working
out.  So, most of my mornings were spent hanging around his house, waiting
for
the workout to begin.

 This particular morning was close to the end of summer, late in August, I
don't
remember the exact date, but I do remember that there wasn't much time
before
both Jon and Dave left, maybe the last week or so before they went.  It
was
hot, very hot, the air dead, no breeze, the dust floating as if it would
never
come down, not a cloud, no sign of any relief.  Dave was away for a couple
of
days to get everything set for his entrance to the Navy-College program
that he
was entering at Oklahoma State, and I was walking down the street in front
of
Jon's house, hoping that I had timed my stroll right, and that he would be
coming down to begin his workout just about now.  In the bright sunlight
it was
hard to see into the house, and, since it was so hot and bright out, Jon
didn't turn the lights on in the den, so that I had to go right up to the
window to see in.  I went over to the house as quietly as I was able and
began
to watch from a crouching position outside his window.

 It was very bright outside, and consequently it was dim inside by
comparison. I
had to get up close to the window to be able to see in.  But I was in
luck.
Jon was already down, sitting with his back to me and to the open window,
his
t-shirt already off and just pulling the second of his two slippers off
his
foot.  I watched as he started to pull down his pants, pulling them off
each
leg, and then as he turned to face the bottom of the bench, sideways to
me, and
began his ritual of adjusting his massive equipment inside his jock.  His
chest
and legs and buns were already covered with a sheen of sweat, even though
he
hadn't started his workout.  It was that hot. His body was so sweaty that
it
got the wood of the bench wet, and as he lay down to begin his presses,
his
skin and flesh slid on it, then made the sucking noises which happen when
the
skin is wet enough to act like a suction cup against the hard wood of the
bench.  I watched for a while as he began his presses.  Each time he would
arch
his back, his buttocks would cup against the bench and make that slurping
sound
as they pulled away.  As he increased his effort, he sweated more, and he
stuck
more.  After his sets, he rolled over off the bench for his towel, and I
noticed that his jock was more stretched and full in front than usual, as
if
his dick was harder than usual.

 He took his towel and dried his arms, chest, face, and thighs, and then
rubbed
between his legs and up into his sweating crotch.  Just then he looked up,
and
I guess I wasn't careful enough, because he saw me standing there looking
in.
"Hey, Glen," he called out to me, laughing, "what are you doing out there?
 You
a peeping tom or something?"   I was going to blush and run away, but I
couldn't do that.  I was too close to Jon, he was my brother's best
friend.
"Nope, just trying to get in out of the heat, and ... well, you know...."
I
finished rather lamely.

 "Come on in, you can spot for me." Jon turned back to the bench and
draped the
towel around his shoulders.  "After I have done my presses, I will show
you
some new moves I am working on.  Bet you can even pin me with one if I
show
them to you."  He dried off the bench and laid the towel down on the wood,
to
keep himself from sticking to it when he sweated.  I guess it was
uncomfortable
for him, even though it had been very exciting for me.  I liked the sound
and
the look of his buns sticking to the wood.

 I just climbed into the room through the window.  It was there and open,
and it
was the way we did things then.  Jon was getting ready for his next set. 
His
body was sweated up, his muscles standing out against his tight skin. 
"Here,
come over here.  You know how to 'spot' for me, don't you?" Jon asked me
as he
started to pump himself up for his next set.    "Sure," I told him, "I've
done
it a lot for Dave."  And I had, too.  My brother often asked me to spot
for him
when he was lifting weights, and a couple of times I had saved him from
hurting
himself when he went beyond his limits.  I went over by the head of the
bench
and put my hands on the barbell and helped Jon to guide it straight over
his
chest.  He did his presses and a couple extra, I guess he was showing off
for
me, and then had a little trouble getting it back to the stand.  I helped
him,
and when we were done, I helped him to sit up and pulled the towel out
from
under his naked buns and started to dry his back.    "Hey," Jon said to
me,
"just like a trainer in the gyms.  You're good."  I dried his back and his
chest off.  They were so clean, so smooth, so muscular.  I could feel my
recently jacked-off dick swelling a little.

 (I should digress here to say that when I say recently jacked-off dick, I
mean
really recently.  I was a the beginning of a very active adolescence, and
my
juices were really starting to flow that summer.  I must have beat myself
off
on average 3 or 4 times a day.  I didn't realize it then, but part of that
was
my growing attraction to guys.  There was so much opportunity to see half
naked
guys, naked guys, and rub around with guys, that I was hot pretty much all
the
time.  I had beat off that morning when I got up, and once just before
leaving
home to spy through Jon's window.  And, as usual then, was ready to do it
again, and my balls were really full of juice again.  I have always had
big
balls, and then they were always full, ready to shoot.)

 I moved around in front of him and dried his legs and thighs, but I
didn't get
anywhere near his crotch.  I didn't want him to move away, and I was
scared. He
was my brother's best friend, and I didn't want any trouble with Dave.  I
finished by drying off his feet, which tickled him, and he started to swat
at
me and hit me away, laughing all the time.  Then he stood up, and said:
"Well,
Dave is away and I don't have anyone to work out with.  You want me to
show you
these new throws I have, and teach them to you.  Maybe you can really
learn
them, and if they are as good as I think they are, you could even pin me. 
Want
to try?"

 "Sure," I told him.  "I am always ready to learn something.  Anyway, I
could
throw you and pin you without them."  He laughed.  I had said that to him
before, it was so much bullshit, but it was a joke between us.  Like I
said
before, when he wanted to, he could throw me and pin me so fast that I
really
didn't know what hit me.

 Jon, remember, was stripped to his bare butt and jock strap, and nothing
else
except a film of sweat which was back on his skin in this heat, even
though I
had just toweled him.  I was dressed in cotton gym shorts, and a t-shirt,
and 
sneakers without socks, and nothing else.  (It was that time of the decade
and
my life when wearing shorts with no under pants or briefs was the thing to
do,
and I did the thing to do.  It was hot, I liked the air around my dick and
balls, and I thought it was sexy and daring.)  I pulled off my t-shirt and
my
sneakers, and helped Jon to pull the heavy bench and stand out of the
middle
of the floor and out of the way, over by the wall.  He took down a heavy
wrestling mat which was rolled up and standing in the corner, and the two
of us
unrolled it and centered it in the middle of the floor. I was wearing only
my
shorts.  Only my shorts, nothing underneath.    "You get down, assume the
bottom position." Jon said to me, and as I did get down on my hands and
knees,
he knelt beside me and took the upper position. Down like that on my hands
and
knees, my dick, which had no briefs to hold it, showed clearly through the
material of my shorts.  When Jon put his big hands on my arms and
straddled
me, I could feel the slick sweatiness of his skin on by back, and some of
his
sweat soaked through the cotton of my shorts, wetting my buns.  My dick
swelled
a little, but not so much that it was embarrassing.

 "Now watch this," Jon said, and before I knew what happened I was lying
on my
stomach on the mat, my face in the mat, Jon's weight pressing me down, his
jock strap covered crotch grinding into my butt, his chest sweetly
pressing
heavily on my back.  He was pressing me down, so that my dick was ground
into
the mat, and it was almost impossible for me to breathe.

 "Now, pay attention," Jon said again, and before I knew what had
happened, he
had moved his forearm under my chest, and his other hand went down across
my
abdomen and then past my dick and under my crotch, and in less than a
second he
had flipped me over and was pinning me to the mat on my back, with his
naked,
sweaty, smooth slick chest pressing against mine.  He was much bigger than
I,
so that his nipples spanned from my chest to just above my dick, the tip
of my
dick flipped upwards and brushing his nipple.  The sweaty suction of his
chest
now gripped my stomach, so that I could feel his body sticking to mine. 
He
looked around into my face, his lips so close to mine that I could smell
his
breath, which was sweet and smooth, and I could see every feature of his
smooth
face, which had no blemishes on it at all.  Jon was a very healthy young
man,
and it showed in his skin, in everything.

 "I can get out of this," I said to him, somewhat out of breath, and I
began to
struggle, pushing up with my heels against the mat for leverage and using
the
strength of my upper legs.  This forced Jon to bear down and shift his
weight
more evenly over my body, so that now his chest was over mine, his stomach
over
my stomach.  Since he was taller, his dick was down between my thighs, but
his
abdomen pressed hard into my crotch and dick.  I was starting to get a
little
hard, which was something that happened to me about every thirty minutes
or so,
at least, but I couldn't feel his dick since the jock pouch was down below
my
crotch.

 I continued to struggle, which caused him to bear down harder, which made
me a
little harder, and then, in the course of struggling, I brought my legs
together to try to lift myself up.  I was surprised to discover that Jon
seemed to be hard, also, there in his jock.  When my thighs came together,
I
could feel his dick and it was in a definite boner.  I pressed up against
his
body harder, and the skin of my smooth thighs encountered the bare tip of
his
dick head, which, his boner being as much bigger than mine as he was
taller
than I, was sticking up a fraction of an inch above the line of the waist
band
of his jock.  I had seen Jon naked once before, in the shower of my house
one
weekend when he had stayed with Dave, and knew that he had a very massive
dick.
I hadn't ever seen it hard, but I was feeling it now, and it was large.

 I was a little shocked.  I didn't know what to do.  I was hot, but then,
I was
always hot.  I was 14 and would hump anything to get off, my pillow, my
mattress, a rug, a pot holder, the inside of my shorts, the inside of
anybody's
shorts, etc.  But I had never had sex with anybody else, except when my
cousin
Dave had taught me to jack off, and then, we just did it together, but not
to
each other.  We had been together for Christmas Vacation, and our parents
had
taken three rooms, one of each of them, and one for the kids.  My brother
Dave
had left early to do something for his ROTC, and so my cousin Dave and I
were
left alone in the room for three days at the end.  I had never beat off,
but
had a boner every morning when I woke up, and rubbed it a lot, but didn't
really know anything about getting it off.

 The first morning after my brother left, I got up and started for the
bathroom
with my dick sticking up under my briefs, a clear flag pole of my state. 
Dave
had noticed this every morning so far, but with my brother there, had not
said
anything.  (My brother and I had both seen each other's boners in the
mornings,
but we considered them to be normal, what you had until you went in to
pee.)
My brother had told me that, and since we both had them most every morning
(we
shared a room at home, too), we didn't think much of it.  Except that I
liked
the way it felt, and squeezed it and felt it before I got out of bed a
lot.  If
my brother noticed that, he never said anything, and I guess he did the
same
thing, also.

 Anyway, Dave, my cousin Dave that is, not my brother also called Dave,
leaned
out of his bed, which was between mine and the bathroom in the motel room,
and
put his hand out and took my hard little dick in his hand as I went to the
john.  Actually, he didn't take it in his hand, he hit it, lightly, with a
flick of his fingers and said: "What is this thing?  It's always sticking
out
in the mornings like it wants to get whacked off."

 Well, to be truthful, I didn't have any idea what he was talking about. 
It
might be hard to believe, but I didn't know what masturbation was.  I
guess I
was somewhat innocent, more so than most, but for some reason, I just
didn't
know.  And so, in all honesty and innocence, I asked him, "What does that
mean?", and I'm not sure if he thought I was inviting him, knowing what
was
going to happen, or if he believed me, but he played it straight and asked
me
if I hadn't ever jacked off, and I asked him again, what does that mean?

 Well, that was all it took.  Dave was out of bed, out from under the
covers in
a second, and he was naked when he stood up.  I don't know if he had
slipped
his shorts off under the covers when I stood up, or if he had them off
from
before; I don't know if he was beating himself hard under the covers
before
this started, if he planned to jack off and cum while I was in the
bathroom, or
what.  (I do know that Dave is now gay and so I presume that this was a
big
turn on for him then.)  Anyway, he stood up and was buck naked and was
hard,
and his dick, which was fully developed, with nice balls and some downy
hair
around the base of his dick and his balls, his dick was standing at full
erection, full attention, and his hand just went to it naturally and
wrapped
itself around it, and he leaned over a little and bent his head and
started to
spit on his dick and fist, and got his dick and fist all wet with his own
saliva.

 He started to stroke it very slowly, and said: "Like this, this is
beating off.
Don't you know?", and so I had to say, "No, I don't know about it.  I
never did
it."

 He couldn't believe that my brother hadn't showed me, but then he thought
about
my brother Dave, the ROTC cadet, Navy bound, and I guess he figured the
either
Dave had never jacked off, or certainly hadn't wanted to "corrupt his
little
brother," so he start to instruct me.

 "Like this," he said, and opened his fist so I could see his hard dick
with the
veins swelling out on the sides, "you grab it like this and get it wet,
because
it feels much better that way than if it is all dry, and you let your fist
close around it not too tight at first, and stroke it, letting the skin of
your
palm slide against the skin of your dick, like this, slowly, then harder
and
faster as you go on."  And he showed me, very carefully and in great
detail,
how you went about beating off, until finally his dick exploded in gobs of
wet,
white, creamy cum.

 Well, I was hard as could be watching this, and after Dave came he
smeared his
cum all over his dick and fist, and started right in again.  "I can cum
three
or four times in a row, in about 5 to 6 minutes," he told me as he started
to
whack off again. "You try yours now, do what you saw me do."  And so, of
course, I did what Dave had done, and the results were about the same, an
explosion of white, hot, creamy, steaming cum, but not as much as his, and
thinner.  I've been told since then by a lot of guys and a couple of
doctors,
too, that the first time is always thinner and less than it gets to be
later
on, but, the feeling, ah, the feeling.

 Dave shot his second load about 15 seconds after I shot mine, and we both
sat
down on his bed.  He reached under his pillow and pulled out his
underpants,
which he used to wipe the cum off of his dick and his hand, and then
passed
them to me for the same purpose.  I cleaned up, and we both lay there and
talked, and he told me all about beating off, that everybody does it, how
he
had learned from a counselor in Boy Scout Camp who had him share his tent
one
night on an overnight, what else had happened that night, all that kind of
stuff.  We didn't touch each other, just talked, and then at the end we
both
got up and took showers, pissed, got dressed and went to breakfast just
like
nothing had happened.  Except we seemed to need to rest and spend a good
bit of
time lying down the next couple of days, and our parents couldn't figure
out if
we were sick or just tired or lazy or what, but what we were doing was
beating
off, about five times a day.

 Anyway, this is a digression.  These memories only took about two seconds
to
flash before me as I lay pinned under Jon, his hard dick pressing into my
thighs, my own hard dick pressing into his abdomen, and then he rolled off
of
me very fast and was up and walking away before I could look at his crotch
and
let my eyes confirm what I had felt.  He went and sat on his bench in such
a
way that I couldn't really see his crotch, and started to dry with his
towel,
letting it hang down over his lap. The only thing I could be sure of was
that I
had been hard under him, and that I still was. What if I had imagined his
hard-on because I wanted it to be there?

 "Pretty good, huh?" Jon said to me, dropping the towel into his lap. 
"Bet you
didn't even know what hit you with that one."

 "That's true," I answered, "but you're much bigger and stronger than I
am.   I
don't know if the hold is so good or if you just overpower me."

 "I'll teach it to you, then," Jon replied. "If you can use it to flip and
pin
me, then it is great."

 Jon got down in the down position.  When he stood up to come to the mat,
I
noticed that his crotch seemed to be its normal, large, filled jock state,
and
didn't see any sign of a hard on or a dick tip above his waist band.  I
didn't
know if it had gone down, or if it had never been there.  I went over and
got
down over him, and put my arms over his body and my hands in the right
positions.  I could feel my own nipples sticking to his smooth back.


"Now, slide your weight up and over me, and at the same time dig your
heels in
and press your shoulder against my side," Jon began, and he instructed me
slowly a couple of times through the complex motions of the throw and pin
which
he had worked out.  It was hard to learn, and the first couple of attempts
I
couldn't budge him, but after a while it seemed that it was getting
easier, and
that I could use my weight and leverage to throw him over and pin him.  He
showed me carefully how to slide my hand down across his belly, moving
over his
crotch, between his legs, and the to use my forearm as a lever and flip
him
over.  He wasn't wearing anything but his jock, remember, so each time I
moved
my hand, I encountered first his dick and balls, and then the smooth, bare
skin
of his ass cheeks.  To do the flip I had to hold onto something, so I
found
myself holding onto his ass, my fingers closing around the bun, and my
finger
tips sliding into the crack of his cheeks.  Jon continued to show me
patiently.  He didn't seem to mind the squeezing on his ass.

 Finally, after we had done it about twenty times, and were both covered
with
sweat, I had him over and down and flipped in on fluid motion, my chest
pressing against his chest,my crotch digging into his abdomen (he was
taller
than I, remember), and my thighs pressing hard into his crotch.  I looked
around at him the way that he had at me, earlier, and as I looked over
into his
eyes, I could feel his dick starting to swell again, against the inside of
my
thighs, until the smooth flesh of the head and tip came up out of the
jock.  My
own dick was hard, and with all the moving around, my shorts had kind of
gotten
pushed down a little, so most of it, about the last inch of the shaft, and
the
head, swelled up and stood out of the waist band of my shorts and pressed
into
the sweaty, gripping smooth flesh of his abdomen and my crotch pressed
together.

 In one fluid motion Jon slid his arm between our bodies, the lubricant of
the
sweat helping, and down past my hardness and up into my crotch, around
past my
balls and up under my shorts to the flesh of my ass buns, and grabbing me
as I
had been grabbing him, with his fingers moving into the crack between the
cheeks, he leveraged me up off his chest, threw his weight into his heels,
and
flipped me onto my back, pinning me.  In that move my shorts came almost
completely off, they were too loose and big anyway, (I told you I like the
airy
quality of loose clothing in the summer), and my dick and balls came into
full
contact with the sweaty flesh of his belly.

 Jon had me pinned, completely pinned.  He was pressing his full weight
down
onto my body, his stomach pressing into my crotch, his nipples on my
chest.  I
couldn't budge, except to breathe, and to get harder in my dick.  That was
all
the movement that would happen.  I was very excited, that was for sure. 
The
most attractive person to me in my life was Jon.  He was the captain of
the
wrestling team, he was my older brothers best friend, he was the best
looking
boy in town, he had my body pinned under his, I was mostly naked, my dick
was
hard and pressed against him, and he knew it.  And, so, I brought my legs
together, and the smooth, silky flesh of my inner thighs, that flesh which
never gets hard, which always has a smooth texture, and is always soft and
welcoming, that smooth warmth between my legs wrapped itself around his
completely hard and free dick.  Hard.  Free.

 Somehow, in the turn and throw, his jock had come loose.  I don't know to
this
day if he did it so fast I didn't notice, or if in all the wrestling
around it
just got pulled down, but what I found with my thighs was his dick,
definitely
hard, definitely free of his jock, and definitely pressed between my two
legs
which were pressed together, and definitely he was humping me.

 It was that simple.  Jon was humping me.  I looked up into his face and
it was
clear, he was going to hump my legs until he came, and I was welcome to
cum,
too, if I wanted to, cause every time he moved up and down to thrust his
dick
in and out of my leg clamp, every time he fucked my inner thighs, the
smooth,
slick, sweaty skin of his belly fucked my dick.

 I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't say anything.  Didn't have anything
to
say.  I didn't want to fight him off, I loved it.  But I didn't want to
take a
chance that we would think something bad of me.  So I just wrapped my legs
tighter, squeezed his dick harder, wrapped my arms around his neck,
pressed my
face into the nape of his sweaty neck, quietly tasting the salt of his
skin on
my lips, and began to hump back.  Shit, if he could actually hump my
thighs,
then, fuck, I could hump his stomach back!

 As soon as Jon realized that I was responding, that he wasn't fucking a
mattress or a pillow, but a living boy who was fucking back, he began to
really
get into it.  His big hands slid under my sweaty back and down to my buns,
where they began to knead my cheeks.  That lifted my legs up slightly,
which
gave me a better crevice for him to fuck.  He shifted his angle a little,
so
that his dick was now in my thighs parallel to my legs instead of pushing
down
into them and to the floor.  His dick head was now actually rubbing
against the
bottom of my crotch, between my balls and ball sack and my ass crack.  I
lifted
up just a fraction of an inch more, and the tip of his dick head slid
right
into the crack of my ass cheeks, the shaft embedded between my thighs, the
cum
slit pointing straight as my asshole.  A hard shot would drive his shaft
right
up my anus, except that at that angle it wasn't possible.

 At the same time I increased the force of my arms around his neck, and
pulled
my body closer to his, the force of my humping freeing the rest of my
scrotum
from my shorts.  I rammed my body and dick upward, pressing the full
length of
my dick, the tip, head, full shaft, and the whole of the bottom of my ball
sack, up against his belly.  The sweat of both our bodies had made our
skin so
slippery that I was encased in an envelope made by both our bellies,
smooth and
slippery, ideal for fucking.  I didn't know what to make of it.  I had
only
ever beat off before, mostly alone, and only for a few months.  And here I
was,
being fucked by the one boy I had a crush on, the one I only wanted to
watch
all the time.

 We were both young.  We were both hot, and worked up, and it had been a
good
workout on the weights, on the wrestling mat, and we were both ready.  It
didn't take long.  I felt I couldn't last any longer, and grabbed the hair
at
the back of Jon's head and squeezed everything:  my legs together around
his
dick, my arms around his neck, inside I squeezed around my dick and balls,
my
asshole.  I felt his dick suddenly go rigid, then start to move again, the
same
as before, but harder, fuller, and his dick started to grow, bigger.  I
cried
out and threw my heels and calves up and around behind him, pressing with
the
smooth, silky, hairless inside of my thighs against his shaft.  I felt his
dick
get bigger still, and then slide up this smooth channel made by my inner
thighs, and up into the crack of my ass, and I felt the tip actually touch
the
outer rim of my asshole, and then I came, and he came, at just about the
same
moment, and I came big, bigger than I had ever come, so big that I must
have
had 12, 15 bursts of orgasmic throbbing.

 And Jon came too, very big.  The first massive spurt came as he drove his
dick
with a sudden thrust further than it had been before.  The tip just parted
the
rim of my asshole, although, as I said, the way we were lying it couldn't
penetrate.  (It is probably just as well. I was young and inexperienced,
and he
was big and inexperienced, and unlubed, and if he had pressed inside of me
I
probably would have 1-
screamed, 2- been in pain, and 3-freaked out all over the place.)  As it
was,
it was just enough of a penetration to get a good bit of that first load
of
jizz actually up into my asshole, without hurting me or me really
understanding
what was happening.  I don't think he meant to fuck me, it was just part
of
what happened in the heat of this sudden moment.  (I don't think any of it
was
planned).

 And then Jon really started to cum.  I thought I had a lot of spurts and
a big
load on.  He started to really fuck my crack, and he must have kept it up
for
at least 2 or 3 minutes, and he was cumming the whole time.  To be sure,
not as
much as that first blast, but cumming, noticeably cumming.  We were
drenched. I
was filled with his cum.  It was in my ass, around my ass, in between my
legs,
under me, I was lying in it, it was under my buns, it was hot, it was
cooling
off, it was slippery, it was drying, it was everywhere and everything at
that
moment.  And between us, caught in that secret cave made around my dick by
our
bellies, was my cum, sealing us together like the magic glue it was.  Jon
suddenly relaxed.  His weight dropped on to me as if he had fallen.  I
held on
tighter, and pressed my face into his neck.  I was frightened.  Even
though he
was the older one, and had started the humping first, what if he told
Dave,
what if he made fun of me?  It didn't occur to me at that moment that he
might
be afraid of what I would say or do.  I knew that I had wanted this, had
waited
outside for it to begin, and couldn't see past that.  In my mind, I was
the
seducer, had raped him, and he was going to get even.

 Jon reached around and unclasped my hands from behind his neck, and
pressed
them down onto the mat.  He pressed himself up slightly, as in a push up,
and
looked down into my face.  I looked up at him.  There was nothing either
of us
could say.  Suddenly, we were both sure.  Sure that we would never say
anything, to anyone, not even to each other after today was over.  Sure
that we
had both wanted it, sure that it was finished.

 I don't know how I knew all of that.  I was only 14, but even now,
looking
back, a wisdom came to me that was older than that.  I reached up and took
Jon's face in my hands and pulled it down to me, and kissed him on the
cheeks,
that's all.  He tousled my hair like he always did.

 We both stood up.

 "Some throw, isn't it?" Jon asked me.

 "It sure is," I said.  "Best I ever saw.

 fini