My first bi-sexual encounter
Introduction:
Names changes to prtect the previously innocent
My good friend Pat lived next door to my house. Although we did not go to school together, we got to know each other through our parents. We would hang out by his house regularly, engaging in some sort of sports activity or competition. It was also a time when I had my first introduction to marijuana and alcohol. I guess you could say it was my coming of age .
Although Pat and I were the same age, he had several siblings, one of which was Stevie; age 8. Pat and I would typically tease and pick on him in a demeaning fashion, somewhat similar to fraternity induction ceremonies. Was this some primal pecking order we initiated with him? I would grow up to offer my apology, which Stevie accepted.
Stevie wasn’t any different than a typical boy his age. He thought he knew everything there was to know, and felt he was beyond reproach among his peers. He had an olive complexion with big brown eyes and mid-length blond hair parted to one side. Himself being from a large and lower-middle income family meant that he was not always the best dressed student in class .
My affair with this boy started sometime when the weather was warm; maybe July. I remember because he was wearing shorts that day. He was playing across the street with a few of his friends, and some sort of bantering
driiping with testosterone erupted between he and I over a baseball which had errantly flown into my yard. In the end, they all ended up coming over to my place to play in the backyard. The game somehow transitioned into what could be most closely be labeled a wrestling match. As I remember it was largely a tussle, all of us grabbing at one another playfully, and laughing. Somewhere someone had started innocently grabbing and curiously stroking the bulge between my legs while we piled upon one another. Before long, and only later I realized, I had had my first ejaculation in my own shorts courtesy of a young boy’s touch.
Weeks passed. I started to have feelings for Stevie in the way I had never thought of before. I nervously debated the issues within my mind, and one day, mustered the courage to confront him shortly after he disembarked from his school bus at our corner. I asked him if he would like play, but he declined. As he continued to walk past our house, I beckoned for him to come closer, suggesting I needed to talk to him about something.
Our detached garage faced the house, and with no window in the rear, allowed privacy from his home next door, and was situated on the property in such a way that nobody could see us. After getting him into the garage, I managed a way for him to sit on my lap, and interlace his fingers in mine atop my legs. I found his hands intriguing. Somewhat rough and dry for a young boy who didn’t know of hard labor, and very much in contrast to my somewhat sweaty palms. His fingers were full of wrinkles both on top and bottom, and he had slightly overgrown fingernails with a buildup of dirt under each. I found it extremely passionate to hold hands with him. While we were talking, I managed to get him to lean back so I could smell his natural aroma, and actually got away with placing a few kisses on his neck. He did not balk or pull away, but leaned backwards, resting his back against me. But he did have a hard time sitting still. A few more minutes of his shifting his bottom around my lap got me so excited that I came right there in my pants holding his hands, his anal opening only separated from me by numerous threats of fabric. Could he feel the power in my tool, or the ensuing moisture patch?
Another icognitive struggle ensued as I reviewed the recent events. My temptation led me to only one conclusion: I would take him as my first. I prepared my approach and set a date. On that day, I was not to be denied, anticipating the loss of his virginity and mine. Stevie stepped down from his bus as always, although slightly later than usual, which only served as further anticipation for me. I beckoned for him again. As before, he refused my advance. I told him I had something I wanted to give him. He then did an about-face, and started in my direction. He came close to me and asked what I wanted. I told him that if he wanted to find out, he would need to come in the house with me for a while. He protested until such time as I told him what was on the table: My entire Matchbox collection, which numbered well over 200. His curiosity now piqued, and he came inside. I managed to sit him down in the living room chair, and got him a glass of water while he inspected several of the cars. We talked for a while about this and that, but he kept coming back to my collection and his desire to have it. I told him that he would need to help me with something first that he could never tell anyone else about; only then would I give them to him. He further asked what he would need to do. I then decided to give him a physical test to to see if he would deny me. I kneeled down in front of the chair where he was sitting, reached for his hands, and again got him to interlace them with mine. There was no protest. Then I leaned in closer to his body, and started kissing him on the cheek. Again, no protest. When I went for his lips was the first time he balked. He asked me to stop kissing him. I suggested I was not sure if he was up for the task necessary, but he said he really wanted my car collection. I asked him to come upstairs with me. We sat on the edge of my bed for a few minutes, where he allowed me to again take him in my lap, take his hands in mine, and managed to manipulate his buttocks down on my member. We made small innocent talk, all the while him playing with his potential gift.
After a few more minutes past, I asked him to come to the bathroom. He followed, his hand still tightly interlocked with mine. Maneuvering us through the doorway, I closed the door behind us, took up a position on my knees on the floor, and motioned him toward me. He came within one foot of my face, his body now just slightly taller than my own, with his big eyes looking directly into mine. I asked him if it would be OK if he undressed and I helped. Without words, we both took the project in hand. When he got down to his briefs, there was a pause, while he clutched at them with both hands. “Can we just leave these on?” he pouted. I agreed, and told him to sit down on the toilet bowl lid. He took up carelessly playing with the one Matchbox car he managed to clutch and take to the bathroom with him. I undressed myself by him, as he pretended not to notice me. When I was down to my briefs, I again motioned him closer. It was then a look of both fascination and horror came into his eyes as he looked at the rather sizable bulge in my frontal midsection. He came to me as asked, and I requested him to place his arms around my back, and proceeded to caress and kiss his upper body beginning on his neck. I included a gentle sweep of my tongue and a light blow from my mouth here and there. He simply stared at the wall, still clutching his car. Then, I again petitioned him to the toilet seat cover, working the same motions down his legs, and completing with his soft, small feet. There was no reaction from him. At least nothing apparently noticeable. He asked if we were almost done, suggesting it was probably about time to get on home. I said there were still a couple of things we would need to accomplish before I turned over my collection. He asked what they were. I went on to explain he would need to remove his briefs completely, and allow me to continue the work that I had been doing. He frowned, and removed them. I turned him around to notice a beautiful rearend. I had never paid much attention to a man’s, but this boy had retained just enough of his baby fat in that region allowing a very shapely bubble affect. Very sexy. After kissing him thoroughly in that region, and detecting a rather distinct odor of feces, I thought maybe he was afraid. It did not show on his face when I turned him around. I did look up and notice his eyes close when I took his boyhood into my mouth for the first time, gently caressing his little marbles in the process. His hands unclenched, he dropped the car, and squeezed my shoulders with his grip. His breathing increased, and there was some movement in my mouth as he enlarged. It wasn’t much, but it was distinctive. After continuing this for several minutes, a slight moaning and hip grinding affect began, as I slid my hand behind and underneath him to touch his anus gently. All at once and holding me tightly, he took a deep breath, and for the first time, emptied himself into my mouth. The taste can only be prepared compared to that of a cross between mayonnaise and lemon pudding. I swallowed him until he finished, and cleaned him up completely with my tongue. His eyes still closed, he pulled himself from me. It seemed he was trying desperately to hide the well-composed smile that started dancing around his lips. He again asked if we were finished. I said there was one more thing we would need to take care of. I asked him to turn around and put his hands on the sink, spreading his legs slightly. He complied, watching me in the mirror as I moved behind him. Reaching in the drawer to his right, I pulled out the Vaseline I remembered my mother kept there. He asked what it was, and I explained about it and its purpose. A nervous look again crossed his face, but I reassured him he would like it. After lubricating his small hole, I lubricated my entire length. I did not expect to enter him completely, but wanted to be prepared for any occasion. As I slid myself along his crack, almost instinctively, he crossed his arms on the countertop and laid his head on top of them. I entered him slowly and cautiously. Inch by inch until I got most of myself inside of him. I then withdrew very slowly to the tip of my head, and entered again. Having done this a few times, his bowels started to accept me more readily, and conform to my shape inside him. I asked him if he was enjoying himself, but he said nothing. I did notice him grow again, and whenever he lifted his head slightly in response to my thrusts, it appeared the smile had returned to his face. Although it was very slow and gentle, myself not yet fully developed, his small size became too much for me. I explained that the same thing that had happened to him while he was in my mouth was about to happen to me while I was inside him. Again, there were no words. I could feel myself engorge fully, and as I entered him deeply one last time almost to my scrotum. I felt myself pleasurably unloading squirt after squirt of my manhood, withdrawing slightly as I filled him. He clutched me tightly with his buttocks for a few minutes as if not wanting me to go, but I slid slowly and flaccidly from him. I knelt down to see what I had left behind, and had myself a taste of the two of us together. More minutes past, and with his eyes still closed, I laid down behind him flat on the floor. I asked him to come and sit down on my belly. He came and straddled me. I told him to turn, and take my penis in his hands. I explained to him exactly how to stroke and caress, which he very carefully and methodically did. My rise came almost instantaneously, much to his amazement. When I reached full erection, I told him to lower himself down on top of me as before, using his hands; guiding my manhood into him. He complied. It was a beautiful sight to see how large I was when contrasted with that little ass spread. His sphincter had again contracted to normal size, and was clearly stretched beyond its limits trying to wrap his buttocks around me. Again, I noticed his boyhood was turgid. After watching him perform more requests of raising and lowering himself onto me for several minutes, I requested he stroke himself the same way he had done to me. Now clearly enjoying himself, I asked him to tell me in advance of his ejaculation. He did. I then had him turnaround so I could watch him masturbate himself all over my stomach. He proceeded to squirt his little juice all over there. I had him taste it, and explained the benefits of it when it came to softening skin. He took some of it between his hands and rubbed them thoroughly with what was available. I had him put his hands on both sides of my waist, and continue pumping me into him in a slow but steady motion on top of me. As I felt myself nearing that time, I took my hands and removed his hips from on top of me, told him to grab his hands around my member, and stroke gently. I had him position himself to where he was tilted slightly backward, his buttocks on the floor, and his legs stretched out across the top of mine. I began to come over his stomach as he helped me, then moved it around to spread across him. After he emptied me, he stopped stroking. He again rubbed his hands completely on himself where I was, but this time I told him to rub it on his face and into his behind. He did. I then stood him up, took his boyhood in my mouth again to clean him, and turned him around to clean up his crack and his sphincter. I again tasted us together. I raised myself on the floor and went to sit down on the toilet seat. I brought him to me and sat him in my lap. I put my arms around his waist, and told him to put his arms around my neck. I spent the next 15 or 20 minutes thoroughly versing him in the art of kissing. Although apprehensive, he caught on quite nicely, his motions very equal to mine. We completely shared our lips, our breath, our saliva, and our tongues.
We had finished. I asked if he had had a nice time, but there was no reply. He asked if he could have his cars. I told him he could if he answered one last question. “Did the juice from me make you soft after rubbing it in?” He put his hands to his face, and then to his bottom, and with a surprised look at his face, suggested his skin was much less rough afterward. Seemingly pleased, we called it a day. He dressed, took his cars, and I walked him out the back door of our house. This was the only time we were together. I did see him a number of times thereafter, but there was not even a glance between us, as if nothing had happened. That’s the way I wanted it.
Some years later, when I was around 18 and dating my first girlfriend, I stopped by Pat’s house for a visit. We were not as close as we once were, and I had since moved out of the neighborhood. I was attending college, and my life was entirely different. This would be the last time I saw either Pat or Stevie. After dinner, I concluded my visit with a very clear apology rather quietly in Steve’s direction. He looked up at me, smiled and nodded, and suggested it was no big deal. At the time it happened, I felt it sure was for us both! I have never forgotten that. I wonder if he has?
