Kelvin's First Time by Kelvin Guard I grew up in a small town in the northwest part of the United States. It was a nice place to grow up, with plenty of fields and forests to play in, lots of forts to build, plenty of little league teams to join. But one thing that was certain about it: children didn't know about sex the way they did in other places or other times. I had no idea where babies came from or what sex was until I was thirteen and I only found out about it then when I stumbled across a book at school that described it. Even things like masturbation and homosexuality were completely unknown. They were things that were never mentioned, not even on the school grounds where they're now such topics of innocent speculation and humor. One fall, when I was ten years old, I discovered about sex from a classmate. We were in fifth grade together. His name was Pat. (His last name is etched in my brain for all of time, but I would not presume to say it.) Although I had been innocently attracted to several of the other boys in class, I had never really paid too much attention to him. He was a year older, having been held back a grade some years earlier. One day, however, he just started tagging around with me. During recess, through lunch, in P.E.; he seemed to be everywhere. He was very attentive to me and I soon realized that he was touching me more often than boys that age generally did. I liked the affection even though it did make me feel a little embarrassed. We were walking toward my house after school and he asked me if I wanted to come over to his mother's apartment to play. It was overcast, a bit drizzly and very cold (as it always was that time of year), so playing outdoors was definitely out. Having no other plans, I happily agreed. His parents were divorced and his mother worked. He also had no siblings. We were, therefore, all alone. Our play began with a game of Sorry. I don't remember who won. Afterwards, I sat down in an armchair and waited for his suggestions for other play. Soon, he squirmed into the chair beside me. I can still see his face at that moment in crystal clarity. He had brown hair and brown eyes. His skin was, of course, very soft and beardless, and his cheeks were rosy with a slight blush. I thought he was very cute. The chair wasn't all that big, however, and the close proximity of his body was a little uncomfortable, though we were both very small and skinny. I know it sounds clicheic and it makes me laugh now, but somehow the talk turned to massages. I must have learned very recently that massages were given in the nude (doubtlessly from too much television). So, when Patrick asked me to give him a massage, I giggled fantastically and told him he had to take his clothes off for that. I assumed, I have no doubt now, that he would never agree to do this and, I have no doubt, I really didn't want him to. To my astonishment, he silently got up and disappeared into his bedroom. I was very confused by this and felt more than a little frightened. Apart from my brothers, I had never seen a boy naked and the idea of being alone with one was very confusing for me at ten years old. For a long time, I nervously struggled with the idea of leaving before he came back. Curiosity won out, however, and Patrick returned a short time later. He returned with a towel wrapped around his waist. I giggled and he blushed. Like most of the boys at school, he was very thin and his small chest was straight up and down without any significant muscle. His nipples were tiny and a deep brownish purple, sitting on his flat chest. "You're not naked!" I said, certain that he must have been wearing his underwear beneath the towel. He grinned and blushed even brighter as he unwrapped the towel and bared his penis. I was too surprised and too giggly to look at it and fell back in the armchair. "You said you were going to give me a massage," Patrick said. I sat giggling and blushing, not looking at him, filled with confused feelings and uncertainties. I was even more astonished when I felt him crawling into the chair beside me again. I had to sit normally in order for him to have room and this soon left me sitting beside his naked body. I grinned into his face again. Patrick just sat looking into my eyes, a tight smile on his face, his cheeks flushed a bright red. "What are you doing?" I giggled. "Nothin'," he replied softly. We sat there for a long time blushing at each other. He made no effort to conceal himself and I was soon feeling more and more curious. Slowly, my eyes moved down his slender body. His skinny arms were squeezed up tightly to his chest and he sat with his hands resting on his thighs. His skin looked very soft and unmarked by blemishes or moles or anything. My eyes moved down his belly and soon beheld his eleven year old boyhood. He had no pubic hair, which was a relief for I knew nothing about such things and would have been prohibitively confused. The skin that ran up and across the small mound between his legs was as soft and hairless as the rest of his body. His penis itself was only partially erect, just enough to give it a rubbery thickness as it lay on his testicles. On later dates, we measured the length of our erections. His was a little over four inches when hard. At that moment, it was only about three. He was circumcised as all boys were at that time and in that place, but I didn't know about such things anyway at that age. His penis head was brownish purple, though not as dark as his nipples. His penis looked big to me, its thickness unmarked by any veins or anything except the pale blue blush of one along the top. I looked back up at his face again and giggled, but Patrick had stopped smiling. He was looking at me with a blushing solemnity. His serious expression disquieted me and I fell silent, my eyes automatically moving back down to his boyhood. "Touch it," he told me in a very soft voice. This made me giggle again and the blush jumped back into my face until I felt hot. When I didn't reach for his toy, he slowly reached for it himself and I watched his fingers gently prodding it and feeling along it, moving it gently across his balls, then laying it back against his belly. Despite my giggles, I was very disturbed seeing him touching himself down there and again fought a desire to run home. "Come on," he said, and his hand moved from his small cock and grabbed my wrist. I struggled weakly to pull it back, but the boy was older and stronger and he forced my hand between his legs. His body flinched when I touched it and I stared at my hand in shock. The feel of his cock was oddly exciting and so astonishing that I felt my hand caressing it in surprise. I could feel it growing and stiffening and stared at it in wide-eyed amazement. The boy's strength left the grip on my wrist and I jerked my hand back. I watched his penis stiffening in erection and it soon started to pulse rhythmically up and down against the soft hairlessness of his belly. With greater length, it didn't look quite as thick but was still much larger looking than mine. I had had erections before myself, so the fact that he had one wasn't terribly shocking. It just seemed to affect me in ways I didn't understand. The head looked more purple now and it was swelling out from his pale penis shaft, shining slightly. I looked again at his face but he was looking down between his legs. I turned back to his erection as well and watched it throbbing with prepubescent excitement. His fingers were trembling softly as they returned to his hard cock and they felt along it as it pulsed. "Why does it get so hard?" I heard my voice asking softly, my face and head feeling hot. Patrick didn't answer and I felt even more embarrassed that I had asked such a thing. "Take your clothes off," he said suddenly, his face turning to me as he kept feeling himself. This sent me into nervous giggles again. It was one thing to see another boy naked; having him see me was quite a different story. "No," I giggled, my arms holding my skinny chest protectively. Patrick looked at me solemnly for a moment, then his hand moved from his penis and rested on the little bulge in my blue jeans. Although I felt an immediate sensation of pleasure, I quickly pulled his hand away and frantically jumped to my feet. "What are you doing?" I asked in near terror. Patrick sat on the armchair grinning and blushing up at me. He looked so cute that I couldn't get very angry at him, but the sight of his throbbing nudity disturbed me. He didn't answer, his arms laying on the armrests, spreading his skinny body before me. "I'm going home," I said, and I meant it. "No," the boy said, jumping up from the chair before I could reach the door. "Don't go, please." "You're being weird." I looked down at his hairless penis, now sticking straight out from his body and still pulsing rhythmically up and down. "I'm sorry. Please don't go." He was looking at me with frightened eyes, as if more worried that I would leave than that he was naked. Looking back, I think he just didn't want me to go away and tell the other boys what had happened. At any rate, I was too young and too naive to ignore his pleading. I sighed and walked back into the room, sitting back down on the chair and not giving him room to sit back down next to me. "Just take your shirt off," he said, standing there naked and excited in the middle of the room. "Why?!" I asked, confused by his pleading. "I did." I still felt more than a little uncomfortable and I wouldn't look at him for a long time. He didn't say anything and I eventually looked up to see what he was doing. He was just standing there looking at me, his four inch penis still throbbing madly. "I'll take it off for you," he suddenly said, moving closer to me. I have no idea now what I was thinking, but I let him. He took the lower end of my t-shirt and pulled it up my skinny body and I willingly raised my arms and let him pull it off me. By the time it was free, I was smiling and blushing again, my arms lowering as I giggled and gently hugged my skinny chest again. Patrick smiled down at me with adoring eyes, and I nervously stole another glance at his stiff boner. "Let me see your penis," he half-asked, have said. I blushed down at my blue jeans and at the little bulge beneath the zipper. Some part of me wanted to do it, but I was so embarrassed by my hairless innocence. Oddly, however, I wanted to look at it as much as Patrick did. Feeling my face grow hot with blush, I suddenly found my fingers reaching for my zipper. Again, I can't remember what I was thinking or even what happened. All I can remember is that one moment I was sitting there bare chested in my blue jeans, and the next I had wiggled them down to my knees along with my underpants. I hugged my skinny body again, giggling nervously, unable to look at Patrick or my own nudity. It was as if I was waiting for his judgment of my little boyhood. He giggled and I blushed up at him. He walked over to the chair and I squirmed over, giving him room to sit beside me again. It was very exciting, feeling his skinny, naked body sliding in next to me, feeling his soft skin rub against mine. When he was seated, our arms were again squeezed in and I blushed as I felt him wrap his arm around my thin shoulders. We smiled at each other. I don't know if it was because my parents were too busy for me or what, but I felt very happy being held as I was by him. I felt loved somehow, I hadn't felt that very much. Though I was certainly blushing horrendously, it felt very nice being next to the older boy. I watched his eyes drop from my face and move down my skinny body to my boyhood. I didn't feel near so nervous about him seeing it as I did seeing it myself, but I soon looked down with him at the hairless pink thing. It looked very little compared to his erection. I didn't have peach fuzz until I was fifteen and my penis was as hairless as it could possible be. My skin was very pale, almost white, and it showed between my legs as it did elsewhere. I didn't have an erection and it was only about an inch long at the time, pillowed by my little, pink testicles. The head was of a proper size for a penis so small, colored purple, the edge gently collared by what remained of my foreskin. I thought it looked pretty, but still waited nervously for Patrick's judgment of it. I looked up at him again, but he was blushing and smiling vaguely at my penis. Feeling even more nervous, I looked back down at it. Patrick didn't say anything, but his other hand gently moved to it. I felt my whole body tighten in confused wonder as his fingers began gently fondling my little cock. It grew somewhat as he separated the skinny little shaft from the balls and seeing it with a little more size was a relief to me. Still, it felt so different being touched by another boy. I could feel my heart start pounding and I felt almost sick as I felt the odd sensations from my dick. I was terribly confused by all of it. Patrick kept playing with it, and I could feel the gentle tugs of his fingertips on my boyhood. I felt it starting to stiffen and it seemed to go from rubbery, boyish innocence to stiff, throbbing erection in the space of about two seconds. Patrick giggled delightedly and his fingers kept feeling along the skinny, throbbing three inches (as later measured) of my erection. I lay stiff and confused, staring at the hairless pink thing between my legs as the older boy fondled it. I had never touched it myself when it got hard, and now he was doing it. "What are you doing?" I asked nervously. "Nothing," he said. "Haven't you ever rubbed it before?" I shook my head quickly, my eyes not leaving my penis. "It feels good," he said. I scarcely heard him. I could feel my penis pulsing, sending little shivers of pleasure into my belly. I felt queazy and confused. "Do it to mine," he said softly. "No," I said in nervous fascination. He didn't ask again, but I could feel his thumb and forefinger taking a firmer grip of my skinny little erection. My penis head had grown a brighter purple and now stood out in a swollen knob, shining brightly with pressure, looking so clearly separate from the pale shaft beneath. He started rubbing on it and my body grew still tighter in confusion. I could see the pale skin of my erection moving up and down on the intense hardness beneath, my little testicles moving up and down with each stroke he made. "What are you doing?" I asked again, this time sounding more like a pathetic cry. "Don't worry," he said, and I was astonished when he suddenly kissed my soft cheek. I wanted to cry, so confused did I feel, but I just sat there staring at my cock, watching the rhythmic movements of the skin, the excited shining of my penis head. It was too strange. Parts of the body didn't feel like this, certainly not my penis. I was thoroughly bewildered. Somewhere in my mind I was screaming to run away, but all I could do was lay there and let the boy do it. It seemed to be getting more intense and I was soon crying softly and begging him to stop. He didn't, however, just kept rubbing on it with his fingers and telling me not to worry. He was very gentle with me in retrospect, and cooed into my ear with soothing promises that it would be okay. Soon, I was crying and it seemed like I wasn't in the room. I thought that my penis had felt as good as it possibly could, but it just kept feeling better. It was very frightening. Very suddenly, and without any warning, my pleasure seemed to multiply tenfold. I could feel my skinny body stiffening dramatically without volition and I could hear myself crying in confused astonishment. My hips started jerking up and down and I could feel my penis flexing in Patrick's fingers. I was desperate to breathe, but it was as if all the air in me was devoid of oxygen. As suddenly as it had hit me, it stopped about ten seconds later, releasing my tense muscles, and I stared in fascination as the intense pleasure abated, sending me gently floating back into reality. A flurry of confusion followed, as I recall. I got dressed very quickly, even though Patrick was again begging me to stay. I felt ashamed and had no idea why. I grabbed my clothes and left Patrick standing there still naked and still erect, his last words still trying to explain to me what had happened. I walked the mile back to my house filled with confusion and greater curiosity and the next few days seemed to pass in a fog. I felt different with my other friends and with my family. Somehow, they just didn't seem very smart anymore. Why I'd felt such initial shame, I don't know now and didn't know then. I had no knowledge that said such a thing was bad. Still, it took me many hours to get over my initial terror and confusion. I have never described the full experience until now, and never told anybody it had ever happened until a few months ago. The next day at school, I treated Patrick so badly that we got in a fist fight, a fight he very promptly won. After a couple of weeks, however, I got up the nerve to apologize and ask if I could come over again. After that, I was over at Patrick's a couple of times a week. At first, we didn't do anything sexual, but later we did and it developed into a sexual awakening that lasted throughout fifth grade. The next summer, he and his mother moved away, and I have never seen or heard of him since. It wasn't a bad experience. It was, in retrospect, quite beautiful. I had no way of understanding what was happening, but I enjoyed it and, after that first time, so did Patrick. It wasn't until two years later that I learned that I was supposed to be ashamed of such things. By that time, I had done it with several of my friends, and it was too late to regret it all. It has only been recently that I've learned that this wasn't a normal thing for boys to go through. So sad for them. What all did Patrick and I do over the course of that year? We masturbated together and each other, that should be clear, and he introduced me to oral sex. We faked anal sex, which is to say that we laid our penises along the crack, but never penetrated each other. I'm quite certain we would never have believed such a thing was possible. Neither of us ever ejaculated and I, for one, never knew that such things were supposed to happen at that point. If Patrick knew, he never told me. I don't know where he'd learned such things. I did find out later that it was a one room apartment and he and his mother slept together. He never said they had sex, but I've often wondered over the years since. I'd love to see him today and frequently remember him and the times we had.