Date: Sun, 24 Jun 2007 17:35:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: swordsman468@yahoo.com
Subject: The Boys I Knew

The following story is true. The names have been changed.


My name is Todd Harper and I was 14 years old when I had my first sexual
encounter. My father's job moved us from New York to Oregon two years
prior. Needless to say, I had a difficult time adjusting to living in a
quieter neighborhood and fewer friends. Nevertheless, I was eager to meet
new people and develop a budding social life.


My best friend during eighth grade was Stan McCloud. The two of us lived
in separate towns--approximately 20 minutes from each other--but had met
through attending the same church. I can't actually remember where we
specifically met, so I'll say that it was during the Sunday School class
for the junior high age group. Within a few months, we had become great
friends. Despite having gone to separate schools, we were nearly
inseparable during the weekends and vacations from school.


While we had spent the night at each other's homes on many occasions
prior, one such sleepover would change our friendship forever. I didn't
foresee any sexual experimentation with the same gender ever before. In
fact, I don't even remember considering myself gay or bi until long after
the events between Stan and myself took place.


His mother dropped him off on a Saturday afternoon. With eighth grade
well underway, we were both eager to get school and homework out of our
heads for the subsequent 24 hours. We filled our time with many typical
quiet suburban-teenage activities: a trip downtown to the movie theater,
Dairy Queen, and a walk through the neighborhood, before returning to our
home and playing computer games.


My parents' bedroom was directly next to mine, and I did not want to risk
waking them up in the middle of the night with talking to my friend Stan
or with listening to music. We therefore decided to sleep on the pull-out
couch downstairs in the living room. After pulling the folded mattress
out from inside the sofa, we decided that it was too early to go to
sleep, as most young adolescent males are proverbial night-owls. We
therefore began a game of truth or dare. No sex was on our minds. Yet.


With neither of us feeling daring enough to break the ice with an
outrageous dare, we stuck to "truths" for quite some time. The
questions normally revolved around girls; "if you had to have sex with
one of the girls in our youth group, who would you pick," "who is the
hottest girl that is from your school in our church," and so forth. I
did not realize it at the time, but looking back on it, I see that he was
more interested in girls than I was.


It was not long before the arousal stemming from the sex-related
questions necessitated a desire to push things further. I believe I was
the first person to say "dare" because I was getting bored with being
asked questions. He told me to take my boxers off. I was lying in bed
with him! Needless to say, I was nervous and reluctant. But I complied,
lifting my knees up under the blanket and creating a large tent. After a
few seconds of hearing fabric rubbing together under the covers, he said
"you didn't do it." I insisted that I did, and in fact the following
dare was for me to remove the covers and expose my naked body to the cold
air of the dark living room. I cannot figure out why he asked me to do
this; or, rather, why he didn't look. Stan turned his head while I pulled
the covers off of my body and counted to five before recovering myself. I
dared him to do the same. The following dare was for him to get out of
bed naked, walk across the room, and turn the light on. Finally, I would
actually get to see him naked. I wasn't very sexually aroused yet; in
retrospect, this was all for the thrill of performing tasks that seemed
"taboo" rather than for sexual gratification. Regardless, my heart was
pounding and my breaths were deep. Our living room light was controlled
by a dimmer-knob, so I gradually saw his body being illuminated more and
more, from a dark brown to a golden tan, and eventually a pale cream.
Then he decided that I had seen his body enough and proceeded to turn the
light off again.


When he had gotten out of bed to turn the light on, his penis was still
soft and hanging casually from his lower body. By the time he had gotten
back into bed with me a moment later, we were both getting rather hard. I
had a full erection much sooner than him; which is partly the reason why
I was somewhat surprised when it was his idea--not mine--to masturbate
together in the open.


We did not touch each other that night. He dared me to graze his balls,
but I declined. I was too nervous; however, several days later, I was
riding on the school bus thinking about our sleepover and wishing that I
had touched him. My penis instantly began getting harder right there on
my way to school, and I greatly anticipated our next sleepover, at which
time I planned to push the envelope further with our truth-or-dare
escapades.


In the months that followed, we slept over at one another's house every
couple of weekends, and remained good friends. Our late-night
truth-or-dare games gradually evolved into mutual masturbations sessions
that involved occasional blow jobs and soft-core humping (rubbing our
dicks together, for example). I didn't love him in a romantic way; in
fact, we remained nothing but good friends. We never even kissed.


More to follow...