This story, like almost every other story found in this Nifty section, involves sex between underage boys. So if for any reason it is illegal for you to be reading such a story, please exit.
I should further warn you that in this story, there might not be quite as MUCH sex as is to be found in other stories on this site, but it does have some and I hope you find the story enjoyable.
Which is probably better than hoping you find the story to be perfectly awful.
And finally – I'm almost all done disclaiming here – this story is set in the 70s. So even though we were all dumb as shit, this story also involves some drug use. I'm not condoning it now. I'm not even sure how I survived the 70s, but rest assured, I ain't doing it now. Because if I did, I'd probably have a heart attack and die.
And that concludes this disclaimer.
My parents met in college, fell deeply in love, got married and, not long after that, I was ushered into the world.
Well, actually it was sort of a shotgun wedding – either that or I came four and a half months early - but at any rate, after having me, they decided one was enough. Common sense never seemed to be one of my strong points, so I'm sure that had something to do with them deciding not to have any more.
My mom was an only child, and on my father's side there was just one sister: Aunt Francine. She met her husband-to-be in college as well and then she probably blackmailed him, but anyway, they had just one child as well, and that would be their darling Bobby.
Darling Bobby was the first nickname I gave him, but then when I was eleven I came up with an even better one: Bob, The Wonder Boy. We never seemed to get along too well back then. Fortunately, they lived in Pennsylvania and we lived in Florida, so I only had to put up with hearing about his latest accomplishments for about a week in the summer when we visited up there and for another week around Christmas when they came down to visit us. Personally, I always thought our living not too far from Disneyworld had a lot to do with their visiting us - that and the weather always being a lot nicer that time of year than it was up there, but... that's beside the point I guess. No matter what the excuse was, I never found myself looking forward to seeing them. Especially not Bobby.
First thing I ever looked at in the morning paper was the funnies. Once I got through with them and the sports pages, I was all done. The first thing Bobby looked at was the financial section. Ten years old, and he's checking his portfolio. I go straight to Gasoline Alley, he's scanning the Standard & Poor Index. He was investing the money he earned and would probably be finessing a leveraged buy-out of some Fortune 500 company shortly after he got his driver's license, and I was hoping my parents wouldn't mention me trying to flush my hamster down the commode.
Well, really, he was my EX-hamster. And don't worry, he died of natural causes - I don't want you to be getting the idea that I was a serial killer in the making or anything like that - but I don't know, I went to feed him one morning, only he'd passed away during the night and I'd recently watched some movie about pirates in which a burial at sea took place, so it just seemed like a good idea. And if he'd gone all the way down, I guess it might have been, but he only went about part of the way down and they ended up having to call a plumber. I thought I never was going to hear the end of it.
But let's forget about that and talk about Bob and his parents some more.
So okay then. At some point during each visit, we HAD to see their latest home movies. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan playing bingo. Uncle Nathan in his Shriner's Club uniform getting ready to help sell candy for some orphanage. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan hosting a cookout. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan at Lake Ontario. And, oh my God, there's Aunt Fran's boobs hanging out. And oh look, there's Bobby again! Which might have been of interest if he'd been in Speedos or something, but he was always modest. Bobby on his paper route. Bobby when his pig won a blue ribbon at the county fair. Bobby in his Boy Scout uniform. Oh, and here are some from his photo shoot. You know, he's doing some modeling now. The agency says he's one of the most photogenic boys they've ever run across. He's just a natural.
I was figuring him modeling underwear was probably too much to hope for, though. Shit, seeing him in his underwear... well, that was simply unthinkable!
Well, I did notice that he was photogenic, guess I always did. `Course, sometimes I was thinking about how much I'd like to see him being photographed being pulled out of the commode, but almost from the start I knew he was good-looking. “Yeah, he's a PRETTY boy,” I'd often sneer to myself, but then I'd probably start thinking about him being caught on camera while sitting on the stool. Or, better yet, just open the door on him when he was in the shower. I could just imagine it. And I really LIKED doing that.
It wasn't that I was an ugly child, it was just that I was a skinny little geek with absolutely no common sense, but... well, I don't know, cousin Bobby just made me feel a bit inferior at times. But still, he was photogenic, I had to admit that much about him.
But he was also modest. He even wore pajamas at night. Always. That's about the only time I could feel any sense of superiority, because I didn't bother with pajamas: nope, I just slept in my skivvies. And since I could tell that this embarrassed him – or at least it offended his sense of propriety - well, cool!
(When I was twelve, I was tempted to sleep naked, but I chickened out. My parents probably wouldn't have liked it if they'd found out about it and, knowing Bobby, he probably would've told on me.)
I figured out that I was gay by the time I was fourteen. Before then I'd only suspected that I was. But since I was still a geek, I kept that information to myself. So, aside from whacking off every chance I got, I had no sex life and I didn't figure I was going to have one anytime soon. Don't know why, but the boys I liked seeing naked when we were changing out for gym or whatever were the ones who were a lot like me physically. I mean, you'd figure I'd have the hots for big hunky jocks, but that's not how it was. But that might explain what happened when Aunt Fran, Uncle Nathan and Bobby were down visiting us around Christmas that year.
Bobby was about seven months younger than me, so okay, Christmas `75 would have put him right at 13 ½. And usually that means PUBERTY. Prior to their arrival I was hoping he'd developed a bad case of acme, but as it turned out he hadn't. No, he was... well, he was stunning. Cute. Photogenic. Slender, not quite as tall as I was, (so that probably would have put him at around 5'-2'') with big blue eyes and neatly combed, stylishly long blond hair. It was fucking awful.
Really, it was, because he was still as modest as he could be. Probably even more so. And he still acted stuck up. And Aunt Fran was still carrying on about him.
But I really wasn't thinking about peeking through our bathroom window at him. Or at least, not until two nights later, when I was out in the back yard a little after nine and the light went on. The window was cracked open and I knew who it was, but that's all I could see, because the blinds were shut.
So I thought to myself, "I wonder..."
Then I saw his shirt go up. I was all the way on the other side of the yard, but I thought "Hmm," and I was tempted. I was scared, but in a matter of a few seconds, with my heart hammering away about a million miles an hour, I was right up at the window. With a stepladder.
Oh, like you ain't never done anything like that yourself.
Only, guess what: I was too late. That boy could undress in a hurry, and all I saw was his ass as he stepped inside the shower, and I just barely caught a glimpse of that and then the door closed and I couldn't see shit. I could see his steamed up silhouette, but I wanted to see more. I mean, I'd gone to all that trouble and I couldn't even tell if he'd started growing hair yet. Although it LOOKED like... no, it couldn't be. No way!
It LOOKED to be above average, and the way I looked at that was A: I wanted to see it and B: If it was anywhere near as above-average as it looked through the steamed-up pebbled-glass shower door, I hated him even more. Because I swear, it just didn't seem fair!
So I waited. If I'd had any common sense at all, I wouldn't have, but I just HAD to get a look. Because, like I said before, he was very photogenic. But it was frustrating. I mean, when he washed between his legs, he had his back turned. Shit!
But finally he turned off the water, opened the door and... then his mouth dropped open, a shocked look crossed his face and he quickly reached back and switched off the light. Damn. I thought for sure he wasn't going to be able to see out, but... guess I was wrong.
For a little while, I was thinking some very bad thoughts, but when it came to doing away with myself, I just lacked the nerve. I mean, it was a big step, but still, I was shaking all over. I hated myself. I was so STUPID! Stupid, stupid, stupid. But I gathered my wits about me as best I could, returned to stepladder to its place beside the utility shed, quickly walked inside and said to my mom, “I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in about an hour, okay?” and away I went. Only as you might imagine, I couldn't think of anything, so finally I gave up and guessed I'd just go back home and face the music. If nothing else, maybe they wouldn't ever visit us again.
Only to my surprise nobody said anything. When I got back they were watching another home movie, and Aunt Fran looked up and said, “Jonathan!” (That's me, by the way.) “I'm so glad you're back! Bobby's about to get the Future Business Man of the year award! You want to see that, don't you?”
Right then he was sitting a couple of chairs away, but not staring daggers through me – in fact, he was ignoring me – so as casually as I could manage, I said sure. Why not? I always wanted to see Bobby getting another award, that's what I lived for.
But, anyway, at this point in the story, I think it's time to just summarize things. I mean, I felt like shit, I felt like the lowest thing to ever walk on the face of the earth, but I'd just as soon not dwell on it, okay? Although seeing as how I went to all that trouble to get a look at him naked, I guess I might as well mention what I saw. Even if I only saw it for a few seconds.
He had the cutest little brown bush. And then there was his dick. And it really was above average. I'm only guessing, but it probably was a good five inches. Soft. Well, okay, maybe it was 4 ½. I mean, I only got to look at it for two or three seconds, so I'm really not sure. I ought to ask him about it sometime.
Well, maybe, but you can be sure it wasn't on that night. He didn't say a single word to me. Not before we went to my room for the night (I was half expecting him to say he'd sleep on the couch) and not when he crawled into his sleeping bag. (And I was also expecting him to crawl in fully clothed, but no, he still changed into his pajamas that night. In the bathroom, of course.) But, anyway, he didn't say one word until finally I mumbled, “Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know... well, I didn't mean anything by it, but-”
And then he cut me off with, “So why'd you do it, then? You gay or something?”
“I don't know. ... Maybe. But-”
“Well, I'm not. But don't worry about it. I'm not telling anybody about it this time. Just don't let it ever happen again, okay?”
And that took care of that.
Well, I could only feel like the lowest thing to ever walk on the face of the earth for so long, then I decided I hated him. Which wasn't hard to do, because as I've mentioned already, I never was all that crazy about him in the first place. And if there was any way possible, then I wasn't going with my folks to their place up in Pennsylvania that summer. If I had to, I'd even get a job. So see, I couldn't get time off to go. And as for when they next visited us, well, I'd ignore him completely. I mean, I would just be icy cool, that's all.
So, okay. Since all this happened in the seventies, if you were a geek and you wanted to become a cool dude, what route do you think you might take a achieve that exalted state? Drugs, perhaps?
In the seventies? Shit, yeah. I'd already tried it a few times, but now? Fuck, I was going to be a pothead and proud of it. I was going to get wasted every chance I got!
Although I did go to great pains to keep it from my parents. But, seriously, at school it was like nobody really gave a shit if you did or not. This was in the seventies, remember. So you didn't fire one up in the middle of biology class or something, but in the bathroom, out behind the bleachers... no worries. Sometimes it seemed like over half the school was doing it. But I'd say only about 15% let their parents in on the secret. Well, I'm not sure, actually... but at any rate, I wasn't letting mine in on it if I could help it.
But by April I was very cool. And that was good, because that's when we heard from Aunt Fran again. Uncle Nathan was a bookkeeper or something at one of the steel mills up there, but the mill was shutting down and he was out of a job. After all the years he'd put into that company. So they hated to impose on us, but they had been talking it over and maybe it was for the best, because her health really wasn't all that good anyway, so... they were going to be staying with us until Uncle Nathan could find another good job. With his qualifications, it probably wouldn't be very long at all, but still...
So I wasn't looking forward to it, but I since I was cool by then I didn't give a shit one way or the other.
Honest. Well, I did notice that Bobby was even better looking once they were there, but I didn't so much as give him the time of day. You want to know how cool I was? I decided I'd sleep out in the garage, he could have my room all to himself for however long they were there. Fact is, I thought it was WAY cool, because I could sneak out easier.
Although I did mention that to Bobby once. I had to be cool, but an icy “How's it going?” and things of that nature were perfectly permissible because you had to keep up appearances. But I guess to impress on him that I really was cool and didn't care about what he looked like naked anymore, I did casually mention that sleeping out in the garage worked better for me because I could come and go pretty much as I pleased. Just thought I'd mention it, that's all. Guessed he could make what he wanted to out of it. So there.
Anyway, two nights later after everybody had gone to bed, I was out behind the utility shed toking away when Bobby came sneaking up and whispered, “Boo! ... I caught ya!”
I really wasn't expecting that. It was so unexpected, I almost pissed myself. But once I stopped wheezing I noticed that he really didn't seem all that shocked. In FACT, the way he was grinning, I could almost swear that he…
“So, you gonna smoke the whole damn thing, or what?”
Well, like I said before, this was in the seventies. So while not all members of the National Honor Society were doing it, it still wasn't unheard of. People you'd never dream of did it. It was rampant back then. But never mind all that, because I was shocked beyond belief. And I also, right at that very moment, started feeling a crawling sensation in my groin. Not that I was expecting Bobby to get naked or anything, but at least we now shared something we couldn't let our folks in on. And you know what? I thought it was great. Or at least I was pretty sure I did. “Um, what, you want a hit?”
“Hell, yes!”
And that almost made me squirt.
But for the next week or so we just got high together right often. We talked about... well, cool stuff. What groups we liked, shit like that. I asked him once how his stocks were doing. He said they were taking care of themselves and then added that it wasn't like he was all at once retarded, but then at that point neither was I. Believe it or not, my grades had actually improved. Except for English Grammar, but the deal was, I never cared too much for that anyway. But I always liked the Literature part, so that balanced my overall grade out to a B-.
But, anyway, for about a week we just talked about cool stuff. Including allusions to just how cool we were ourselves. So of course we tried to act that way and the totally uncool event that happened back around Christmas was never mentioned. Not until one night when right out of the blue Bobby exhaled coolly, passed it back to me and asked me, “So I was just wondering. Are you bi or what?”
That was a very sophisticated question. I can assure you that most junior high students weren't too sophisticated in that area, no more then than now, but if you think about it, there are more a few bi rock stars. And others are out and out gay and proud of it, but you see, being able to say those rockers were still cool if in fact they were, well now, that meant YOU were cool. You were sophisticated. You didn't give a shit about their life style, all that really mattered was, they rocked.
And besides, I'd already told him that I might be gay. On that awful night right before Christmas. And I honestly didn't think he'd forgotten about it, so what the hell, if he was cool enough to bring it up, I'd be cool enough to answer. “Yeah, I guess I'm bi,” I said with a slight tremor in my voice. “Why, does that bother you?” (You really weren't expecting me to be COMPLETELY honest, were you?)
“No,” he assured me, “Doesn't bother me any. I mean, it's your life, so what the hell, you know?”
That's when my gaydar went off. Not that it was really well-developed – it never was, to tell you the truth – but I definitely started getting stiff. I wasn't sure where this line of questioning was headed for, but...
I glanced over at his lap. And immediately noticed a tell-tell tent-like formation. Oh-my-GOD! To this day, I still can't believe I didn't just pass out right there on the spot.
Well, think about it, all right? I'd never done anything with another boy. Except sneak peeks in gym or something. Then I'd go home and jerk off, but that was IT. I'd certainly heard of blow jobs and the like, and I hoped one day somebody I liked wouldn't mind if I gave them one, but I had no earthly idea when that day was going to come. But...
“So - just out of curiosity - what were you thinking about last Christmas when you... uh, well, you know, when you were looking in the window?”
Well, actually what I was thinking was just that I wanted to get a really good look, it didn't go any further, but I took a deep breath and quietly replied, “Well, I guess I wanted to suck your dick.”
Hearing those words come out of my mouth actually made me squirt. Just a little one, but still, I was shocked. But the way I looked at it, at worse I could say, “Well, shit. I was stoned out of my gourd last night. Did I really say THAT? Tell me I didn't. I didn't really, did I?”
If it hadn't been for being wasted, I probably never would have got those words out in the first place. But that still doesn't mean I'm condoning illegal drug use.
Even if there were a few good things about it. “Oh,” Bobby squeaked. (If you talked while you were inhaling, you invariably squeaked.) Then he exhaled slowly, giggled, (I had never heard him giggle before) and finished, “So... um, where's a good place to do it?”
Then my mouth dropped open and a shocked look crossed my face, too. Just for a second or so. I'm almost sure of it. Because all at once it occurred to me that I was way out on a limb on this deal. So, see, that's a good reason NOT to do drugs. Not ever.
But then on the other hand... oh, what the fuck. I started to say, “Well, I guess in the garage,” but then I remembered I couldn't have the lights on in there, and since I was going to do it, I might as well get a good look. So instead I stammered, “Well, I guess we can go in here.” Which would be the utility building we were behind right then. Because there I COULD switch the light on.
Oh, and another thing. I could also mention that I hadn't really ever done anything like that before, but I did sort of wonder what it would be like. But in the garage we'd have to be very quiet. And while he had his back to me hurriedly stepping out of his pants and undies, I mentioned it.
“Oh, it's not really horrible or anything,” he said, casually. Then he turned around and... my mouth might have dropped open once again. Or maybe not, because I was already close to hyperventilating before he turned around. He had a beautiful ass. Very white, but with a lovely tan line. It was very photogenic.
But then he turned around facing me and I blurted – breathed – squeaked? - “Geez!”
He shrugged. Almost apologetically.
“Um... How... Do you know how... big... Damn!”
“Oh, it's not THAT big. ... About six and half inches?”
“Oh, it's not THAT big,” I mimicked, and then I took a deep breath. “Well, okay, I'll do my best.” Oh my God, I was about to do it!
I dropped to my knees and shuffled up to him. IT twitched slightly. I put my right hand around it. And it twitched again. Almost jerked, in fact. I caught my first whiff. A familiar enough smell, a bit stale and gamy, almost the same smell I had in my undies after I'd been wearing them all day, and I knew all boys around my age could smell that way, BUT... this was Bob, the wonder boy! I mean, holy fucking shit, you know?
Tentatively, I opened my mouth. Made the familiar O shape. Winced. And I hadn't even tried getting it in yet. Tried to make a funny. “Well, there sure ain't nothing like going in on the deep end. Bet my jaw is going to ache for a day. At least!”
“Oh, it won't either!”
“How in the hell would YOU know?” and with that, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes (really, I did) and... Okay, it's in my mouth now. I can't believe I'm DOING this!
First time, it was like every single thing was new. The head of his penis was spongy soft, the shaft below was hard as an iron pipe. Of course. Just like mine was, except his was bigger. And mine was about average, okay? But I hadn't ever had mine in my mouth before, either. And I sure hadn't had anyone else's in my mouth, so OF COURSE... Okay, I'm gonna lick on his pee hole.
And that worked really really good. He gasped and-
I had no idea what it would be like. But the way he was wiggling and gasping, I was expecting an eruption, not just a squirt. It was almost polite. Followed by two or three more. It tasted sort of like mine did, you know, slightly salty, sort of like chlorine bleach or something, so okay, I knew right away it had happened, but it just... well, it just sort of slid out. That's what it seemed like. Although I was pretty fucked up at the time, so who knows? But, shit, one time when I was jerking off, my first shot ended up on my glasses. And the second hit my chin. I was HORNY that day. So, anyway, I was figuring when he blew it would be really spectacular, and in a way I was dreading it because I didn't want to start choking, but... squirt? That was IT? Squirt?
I let it slide out and sighed. I mean, it was a relief, you know. I wasn't used to having something that big in my mouth. I guessed in a way it was good that he came so quick. I swallowed, but I could still taste... his stuff. And that's when it hit me. Really and truly... Oh shit. I'd just sucked... well, at least he had his dick in my mouth... but I had just...
“Hey, Jonathan, you all right, man? You're not gonna start freaking out on me, are you?”
Well, I was considering it, I suppose. My cousin had just shot off in my mouth, so yeah, freaking out was a definite possibility.
Bobby started, “First time I... Oh shit. Let's switch places here, okay?”
That didn't immediately register. I mean, I honestly wasn't following him right at that moment.
“Just stand up... just a minute here, so we can get your pants down...”
WHAT? I didn't hear that right. I couldn't have.
But then he was helping me to my feet and then he knelt down in front of me and started working on my pants and I...
I really should have fainted at that point. I'm still not sure how I avoided it. Honest, I started getting light-headed right about then. I could not BELIEVE what was happening. There was no way in HELL-
And then he had it in his hand and he took a deep breath and all at once that wet warmth closed around my dick, and you know what? He was GOOD! All the way down to my pubes he went. Sheesh! For a little bit I was thinking, “Oh, my- God. Ohmygod. Oh-my-GOD!!” Sorry, but that's about all I can recall. Except that I was very glad that I hadn't fainted. Shit, I would have missed everything!
To be honest, I think that last sentence would have been a great way to end this story. I don't want to seem full of myself here – I mean, occasionally I am, but I still don't want it to seem that way – but I really liked that last sentence. But still, I guess you might want a few more details on this. I know I sure was interested in finding some more, so...
So okay, if you really must know, I'll add a little more.
I definitely was wanting to know more while he was at the first time. About the time he swallowed my BALLS, I was like, “What in the FUCK... oh my God”... kablewy. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't just a few polite squirts at that point, no way. When that sucker swallowed my balls... well, that did it. KA-BLEWY!! And he swallowed every bit of it! It HAD to be a lot, but he swallowed everything right down to that last little squirt that always comes after you figure you've got everything in the Kleenex or whatever.
So of course I was just looking at him with a look of utter and complete shock. Not that I was at all upset about things, mind you, but still...
“So I guess you're wondering how I got to be so good at this, huh?”
Well, yeah, that was one of the questions, but... “Um, yeah.” I giggled. Euphorically. “I mean, I don't understand how-”
“I've known I was gay for at least two years. But I didn't want anyone else to know about it, okay?”
“Oh, I know all ABOUT that! But last Christmas, when I-”
“Last Christmas I couldn't deal with it, that's all. But-” (and I started to interrupt but he shushed me with) - “Just let me finish, okay? I WAS shy... about undressing in front of anybody, but um... shit. Before you say it, yeah, I know not wanting to be seen naked could be a big hindrance to ever getting it on with anybody, okay? But anyway, about the middle of January I was over at this guy's house, and the deal was that I had the hots for him. I didn't want to let on to him about how I felt, but... well, maybe he could see right through me. That wouldn't surprise me. So he got me a little drunk and then we were sort of wrestling around on the floor, you know? And he started feeling me off. So I started groping him back, but the whole thing was a set-up, okay? All he wanted to do was get me hot, because he wanted a blow job. And he GOT his blow job. Not nearly as good as the one I just gave you, because that was my first time, but he got his blow job. Only thing was, he wanted more and the way he put it to me was, I'd do it whenever he wanted or he'd tell everybody at school that I was a cock sucker. I was a little faggot. So, no, he didn't return the favor, not then, not ever. But I swear, Jonathan, sometimes I almost liked it! I hated being used, and boy, I sure got used big time, but part of me... well, I don't know, it was like if I kept pleasing him, maybe one day he'd really like me. Shit, Jonathan, I was his fuck boy. And it sure ain't all bad, but deep down inside... well, I'm just glad we're down here now, that's all.”
“Yeah, well, right now, I'm glad you are, too. And I'm sorry about that other guy, and you didn't really have to tell me that-”
“Well, I figured after you sucked me off, I was pretty safe in that regar-” (And then he saw the look on my face) - “I didn't mean it that way. I mean, it just came out wrong. .... What I really wanted to say is, I'm glad... well, is it okay if I just like you a lot right now? Because I do, but I'm not sure if it'll ever be more than that. ... I just want to be honest, okay? And I'm glad I can be honest with you, is that okay?”
Well... I could sure think of worse situations.
Sometimes you think you know everything you need to know about somebody, when the fact is, you don't know anything about them at all. I guess a lot of people have stories like that.
I still call him Bob, the wonder boy sometimes, but the thing is, we both know I really mean it. If nothing else, he's awfully good at finances, and to have a really good partnership, something like that can come in very handy.
And beyond that, even though at first he couldn't promise it, he did end up falling in love with me. Which worked out really well, because I'd fallen in love with him. And we still are in love.
Let's see: He decided he might be in love with me sometime around June 3, 1975. So it didn't take REAL long, and besides, I already knew that he LIKED me a lot. So that was okay. But I still wasn't going to sit on that thing. Fuck, it was too big!
But... about a week later, he finally talked me into it – there'd been a considerable amount of prepping before then – and would you believe it? It went in! It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but it got a lot better.
Sort of like our relationship, I guess.
I still think “Shit, I would have missed everything!” would have been the best ending, though. But, regardless, I guess that's all there is. Hope you enjoyed most of it.
Well, I really hope you enjoyed ALL of it, or at least liked it some, but anyway, thanks for reading.
jjjanicki@gmail.com