First, a thank you to all those who have so kindly emailed me; I get pleasure out of writing stories and I'm pleased that you got pleasure from reading them. For those of you who like to seek for elements of auto-biography in a Nifty story, this tale may seem like a reward for all your searching, or, then again, it might be all pure fantasy.
All the usual disclaimers -- if you really don't like reading stories involving men and boys having sex, then why are you here?
Bert
Dave and I had been mates for ages. Since the start of the cricket season, a good two months ago, in fact. We didn't go to the same school, but we had played against each other before and now we were junior members at the same cricket club. We were both fifteen, but while I was 5'10", Dave was only about 5'2"; he was left handed and I was right. One other difference, I soon found out, was that Dave was a roundhead, while I was a cavalier. That's what we called cut' and uncut' in North London in the 1950's, rather more poetical than the blunt, modern, terms. I spotted that Dave was a roundhead in the showers after our first practice session; showers always have been a wonderful place to wash and stare, and, indeed, to display.
Two weeks after I'd had my initial check out of him, Dave took our friendship a boy's step further. After the second home game of the season, Dave and I had completed our post-match shower, and I'd had a further investigation of what was hanging around, we were out on the pavilion veranda, finishing our fags and the one, half pint, bottle of pale ale we were allowed to drink, when Dave suggested we nick the key and wander down to the score box at the far end of the ground for a chat and another fag or two.
We got the key, disappeared into the evening gloom, and down to the scorebox. Once inside and fags lit, Dave suggested a game of `Dare or Forfeit'. I was happy, and happier still once it became obvious that the sole purpose of the game was to get naked. Then, of course, there's only one thing two naked, fifteen year old boys can do. Dave went for mine, I went for Dave's. Another difference between us: I was a big boy, bigger soft and bigger hard than any other boy I'd seen, and I had already seen a fair number, and held quite a few in my hand. I was a good six inches, thick inches and bushy pubes, while Dave barely managed an almost bald, slender four. It made no difference to me; it was a cock, and I liked cocks.
The only conversation as our hands found cocks to hold was, "You suck?" from Dave, followed rapidly by,
"Yeh!" from me.
We had cock fun every weekend after that, and, during half term, played naked games in our bedrooms. Dave was a willing cock sucker, and loved having his own few, slender inches in my mouth, so we got on well -- we shared two major interests, cricket and cock.
Now, some six weeks after our first time together in that scorebox, we were being given a lift home by the second eleven wicket keeper, a cheerful, bubbly, stocky guy in his mid thirties, called Bert. There wasn't much traffic around in suburban North London in the 1950's, especially in the evening, and as we made our way through the empty streets, Bert suddenly said to me,
"Grab his arms."
Dave was in the front passenger seat, I was directly behind him. Without even wondering why I should have been asked to hold Dave, I pulled his arms behind the seat and held on tight. Dave didn't struggle at all, and I suppose I should have found that strange, but I didn't.
"I want to check up on something I've heard about," Bert said, and I saw his left hand leave the steering wheel and make its way over to Dave's groin area. If Dave was going to struggle it would be now, so I gripped his arms tightly. If Bert wanted to get inside Dave's trousers I was quite happy to be of assistance. I knew exactly what was in there, and knew Dave had no objections to me wanking and sucking him, so why should he object if Bert had a feel?
He didn't, and when I was certain that Dave's cock was in Bert's hand, and that it was up and ready for action, which I did by leaning forward and having a look, I let go of his arms. He never moved them, just sat with his arms behind his seat while Bert drove him home, playing with his little cock all the way to his front door.
With Dave safely home, Bert told me to get in the front, which I obligingly did. I expected him to make some reference to what had just gone on, but, believe it or not, I hadn't the faintest idea that Bert would want to follow Dave's cock with mine.
I can sense disbelief now, in the reader's mind. How is it possible for an intelligent, fifteen year old boy who wanks at least four times a day, who's been enjoying other boys' cocks since he was eleven, and who has just seen his mate tossed off by the man he is now alone with in a car, not realise that his own cock is next in line? Things were different fifty odd years ago. There were fifty or so boys in my year group at school, and by the time we all left I'd sampled the cocks of at least half of them, plus a number of others who went to different schools. Of the ones I never had, I knew the majority had their own helping hands around. Boys wank, and I suppose we all knew that wanking feels so much better when it's someone else's hand doing it for you. I recall one occasion when a group of us were discussing one lad's girlfriend and he said, "Once you've had a girl you just don't want boys anymore," and the general discussion resolving into an agreed, "Girls tits are nice, but boys know what to do with cock." If you wanted `sex', then, yes, go with a girl, but if you wanted to have your cock treated properly, you needed another boy.
No media screamed about corruption and depravity, nobody thought that any man who smiled at a boy was automatically a paedophile, indeed, none of us would have had the remotest idea what one of them was! There was no internet, either, so nowhere you could find out about these things, no way a teenager could learn about the more detailed games boys could play unless someone physically showed him, so all our activities were concentrated on the front of the body. The modern boy has all the information he needs, and enormous pressure to not have any fun. We saw other boys' cocks every day, the modern teenager has probably only ever seen his own! The media has turned modern youth homophobic and, in the process, stopped them having hours of innocent fun.
So there I was, an innocent, naïve fifteen year old, sitting in the front passenger seat of a car with a man who had just had my mate's cock without any idea that he was after mine.
"You didn't mind what I did to Dave, did you?" Bert asked before he drove off.
"No," I answered; truthfully, because I wasn't bothered in the slightest that my mate had just been wanked by a man.
"Would you like me to do it for you as well?" he asked.
"Yeh," I said without any second thoughts or hesitation, and parted my legs so Bert's hand could get at me easily.
He had my trousers undone and my cock out in seconds, and he did that left handed while keeping his right hand on the steering wheel, ready to drive off if he spotted any other signs of life around.
"Oh, that's lovely and big," he said as he fondled me hard.
"Bigger than Dave's" I sniggered, without realising I'd given away that I knew what Dave had.
"You seen his, then?" Bert asked.
"Course," I grinned in the dark, "We wank loads."
Bert relaxed and his hand went to work and I started on a course of sex education.
Dave told me later that it had, as is obvious with hindsight, been a set up. Bert had seen Dave in the showers a couple of weeks before, and Dave, never a shy lad, had made sure that his bits were available for viewing. It was an unspoken teenage code back then: being naked in the showers with other boys was an everyday thing, it happened after every gym or games lesson and it was an accepted time to look and show. A few, very few, boys would be in and out as quick as possible, covering themselves with towels while they dried off. Those, you knew, were not up for wanking. The majority just showered, neither displaying nor hiding; if you wanted a look they didn't object but neither did they flaunt it. Then there were the few that stayed in the showers a bit longer, always facing the other kids still in there with them. Sometimes a lad would very obviously wash his balls, sometimes one would allow the beginnings of a swelling; the message was clear, `Anyone want it? It's available.'
Dave had spotted Bert viewing the goods on display, stayed in the shower as the unwritten rules demanded, and when only Bert was left, had produced a hard on for him to see. Bert saw, reached out a hand and added another boy to, what I was to find out, was a very impressive catalogue. Dave hadn't mentioned it to me at the time, nor had he told me Bert was wanking him more often than I had been for the past few weeks, and neither had he told Bert that he wanked with me. It had been Bert who wondered if I might be worth a try. They'd been discussing the other boys in the club, which ones Bert fancied and which ones Dave thought might be available. Bert had me high on his list, Dave told him he thought I'd be worth making a move on, and they'd hatched their plan. Until that moment I told Bert I wanked with Dave he had no idea just how available I was.
"Little bugger never said," Bert muttered as he fondled me.
"Never told me you was doing it with him, either," I grinned, stretching my legs so Bert could get at all he wanted.
This was my first time with a man, and it was different. Normally, when you went with a boy, it was `get his cock then go for his spunk'. How long it took to get his spunk depended partly on when he last wanked and partly on how much time you had available. If I'd been sitting in a car with my cock in a boy's hand I'd have expected him to be wanking me furiously, but Bert wasn't doing that. He was fondling my cock, stroking it gently, feeling my balls and teasing my foreskin and it felt amazing! It was my first lesson in how to treat a boy properly, make him feel really good and he'll probably come back for more. Up until that moment my pleasure from boys had been entirely my pleasure -- his cock in my hand, or mouth if I was lucky, and my cock in his. The object of the exercise was to spunk, it was simply more fun doing it with another boy than it was doing it for yourself. Bert was starting to show me there was more to it than that!
"Ok?" he asked me as we drove along, his left hand never leaving my cock, he even managed to change gear right handed.
"Yeh," I sighed contentedly, happy with the attention my teenage pride and joy was receiving.
"When you got to be home?"
"When I get there," I answered truthfully.
I was a lucky, not neglected teenager. My father worked nights and mother went to bed early so she could be up by six when the old man got home. I stayed out till I got in, I simply made sure I never messed things up by being out too late.
"I could do this properly at home, if you like?" Bert offered, and it was not an offer I was going to refuse. Obviously, if he was going to take me to his house he was going to do more than just have my trousers undone and feel my cock. My mind didn't go beyond being naked and getting wanked, and, if I was really lucky, sucked as well, but it didn't have anywhere else to go. Those were the only things I knew about.
"Yeh, ok," I said and hoped like mad that Bert would do some sucking!
Bert got me to his flat, one of half a dozen in what had been one of the larger houses in the area, made me be very quiet as we made our way upstairs, and almost pushed me inside as soon as he'd got his front door open.
He didn't waste any time once we were inside, leading me to his sofa, sitting me on it and then started on undressing me. He didn't mess around, stripping me, with my assistance, in about half a minute. I had no objections to the rush, after all, he'd been playing with my hard cock for about twenty minutes and I could fully sympathise with his need to do more than just stroke it! As soon as my last garment, my y-fronts, hit the floor, Bert was on to my cock. A few squeezes, a play with my foreskin -- how did he guess I really loved that -- and he was down, licking and then swallowing my prick.
I was in bliss! My mate Phil, who'd introduced me to the pleasures of cocksucking, had been good. At least, I thought he was good, but then, he was the first person to get his mouth round my cock so I had nothing to compare it with, not until Dave, that is, and he was just a bit better than Dave. Bert destroyed them both! He swallowed all my cock, all six thick inches of it and I could feel the tip pushing against the back of his throat. He pulled his mouth almost all the way off and used his tongue to flick round the head and then poke inside my tight foreskin. He licked it underneath, he sucked my balls and he licked between my legs and under the base of my scrotum and he drove me crazy.
"Feel my legs, Bert," I gasped as he treated me. I have always liked my legs stroked and when Bert followed my wishes and worked on my thighs with his hands while he kept using his mouth on my cock and balls, I thought `sex can't get better than this!'
"You can spunk?" Bert asked.
"Course!" I snorted, offended by the suggestion I might not be able to!
"Dave can't yet," Bert informed me, then kissed my stomach.
I thought about it and realised that while Dave had got the spunk out of me about twenty times, I'd never seen a drip of his. His first spunking was towards the end of the cricket season in Bert's car with me in the back, watching.
"I usually spunk three or four times a day," I boasted to make sure he understood I could shoot.
"When was the last?" he asked.
"This morning." Dave and I hadn't had a chance for one before Bert offered us the lift.
He stopped kissing bits of me, pulled me off the sofa and led me to his bedroom. Even better, he was going to get me into bed. I liked it when I could get into bed with a boy, why should it be different with a man? Once he was naked, and that didn't take him long, I could see there was more hair on him than any boy I'd been with and he was fatter round the middle. My cock was bigger than his, though!
He started by getting me to suck his cock.
"I'd love you to suck it," he said after an initial close cuddle. "Could you?"
"I've done it loads," I said and went for it.
When I've done sucking with boys it had always been an alternative to wanking, the main point being to make the other boy shoot. Bert got that out of me in minutes.
"Easy," he whispered. "Treat it like an ice lolly, lick it and suck it slowly."
I followed his instructions and was soon dong the same things to him as he'd done to me earlier. I could even swallow all of his cock, it wasn't more than just about five inches. I started to realise that doing it this way not only gave a great deal of pleasure to the owner of the cock that was being sucked, it gave me more pleasure as well. Going at it this way brought me into intimate contact with the cock, every little nubble, every vein and every little twitch and jerk it did in response to my mouth and tongue. When I tried it out on Dave the following day he absolutely loved it! Bert hadn't had a chance to suck him yet, they'd always been in the car and no chance for Bert to go down on him.
I was still working on getting Bert to shoot, even though I was trying all the new moves on him, but he stopped me,
"Don't want to spunk yet," he said as he eased my head off his cock.
Ok, so this was one of those rare chances to make things last a bit, more cuddling and fondling before back down to business.
I was shaken out of my complacency when Bert put his mouth against mine. I went rigid, not with shock and horror, but with something more like fright. I'd never kissed anyone before, hadn't got the faintest idea what I was supposed to do and I was terrified of getting it wrong! I obviously did get it wrong, because after a few moments of closed mouth lip pressing, Bert pulled away and said,
"You never kissed before?"
"No," I almost whimpered, ashamed of my ignorance.
"You'll love it," was Bert's response. "Just open your mouth and copy what I do."
He put his mouth back on mine and I opened my mouth as he'd told me, but was still shocked when he put his tongue in my open mouth. It felt weird, and Bert could have done with a shave, but I tried to follow his tongue moves and soon had mine wrapped round his. And I began to understand the school talk about snogging, the sensations in my mouth somehow travelled right down to my cock, and what had been hard was now rigid. Bert's hands wandered over me while he kissed, and he seemed to pay a lot of attention to my arse, which was also something new. Boys didn't play with other boys' bums, they concentrated on cock and I never knew my arse was somewhere sexy. Bert did, and he obviously liked it, kneading and squeezing my bum cheeks while his tongue tried to poke itself down my throat. I found I quite liked it as well and the thought flashed through my mind that it was probably sort of like getting tit off a girl.
When Bert had enough of my mouth he went back down on my cock and swallowed that again. Kissing had been alright, but I preferred being sucked. His hands continued to wander and eventually were back on my arse, squeezing and feeling. Then, using his thumb and a finger, he eased my bum cheeks apart and slipped another finger right inside my crack. I gasped as his finger found my arse hole, it was the weirdest thing I'd ever felt, and, what was even weirder, was that when he started gently moving his finger and pushing it against my hole, it felt seriously sexy, especially as my cock was still deep in his mouth. Bert took his finger away, shifted a bit, still sucking me, and I heard some noises and a grunt or two, then his fingers were back, parting my cheeks and going for my arse hole again. It was different this time, cold and slippery as he rubbed his finger over my hole and then pressed firmly.
I'd no idea he'd put Vaseline on his finger, and no idea that he intended to put that finger inside me, so I let him carry on. I felt the pressure against my hole and felt myself slowly starting to open up and then began to realise what was happening. By then it was too late. Bert's gentle pressure was opening my hole and his finger was starting to go inside.
"What...?" I gasped, but far too late to protest as my arse accepted his finger and seemed to drag it inside.
I gasped again, in shock at what was happening and also in surprise that somehow it felt good. Odd, possibly uncomfortable, but good, and Bert was still sucking my cock and I loved having my cock sucked. I don't know how long he worked me with one finger before a second joined it and then a third. There was still discomfort, but that was totally forgotten as the sensations of being sucked and fingered at the same time flooded through me.
I still didn't realise he was going to fuck me, I really was that innocent, I just thought this was a new and different way of getting sucked off. It was only when his fingers came out of me, and he stopped sucking me to move me onto my stomach and climb astride me that I began to understand what to happen next. He parted my arse cheeks again and pushed his cock against my greased and opened hole. I thought about saying `no', I didn't know if I wanted cock inside my arse, but I certainly didn't want to offend him by refusing. He sucked brilliantly, and I wanted more of that, so if I had to let him do this to me so I could have him suck me, then I would let him. I gasped out loud as his cock started to enter me, but Bert had fucked boys before, he knew what he was doing. By doing me this way he wouldn't be able to get all his cock in me, and it wasn't a huge cock anyway. Big enough to make me wince when he got as much in as he could, and big enough to slowly fill me with feelings I never knew I could experience.
He fucked me like that for a few minutes, then turned me, put my legs over my shoulders and fucked me properly. This time he went in balls deep and I could feel all of him, the indescribable sensations as his hard cock pushed into my insides and hit something that made my cock jerk and my body explode. I didn't know I had a prostrate gland, didn't even know what one of them was, Bert had to explain it to me later, but Bert's cock found it and pummelled it, making it do what it's there for and making me feel like I was shooting non-stop. I didn't actually spunk, though, Bert shot in me first and had to finish me off with his hand, which was alright, but I would have preferred his mouth.
"I guessed you'd be up for fucking," Bert told me when we were back on his sofa and he'd given me a fag and a cup of tea so I could recover before going home.
"Why?" I asked. How could he have known? I'd never even had my arse squeezed before.
"When you let me kiss you," he said simply. "Boys who kiss almost always fuck as well." It was another lesson from Bert I learned and stored away; and made good use of in the years that followed!
"Does Dave kiss?" I asked, hoping that he did and wondering what it would be like to fuck him.
"Not yet," Bert grinned, "But I'm working on it."
In fact, Dave never did kiss or fuck, but Bert told me a few years later, that his youngest brother, who was only about six at the time of my deflowering, did both with enthusiasm once he reached fourteen.
I stayed with Bert for five years, not exclusively, of course, but using him as a fail safe if I was in need of sex and no boys were handy. Bert was good to me. He picked up an unbelievable number of boys and always called me if he found something good. He educated me in the arts of seduction, how to make a boy go further than he'd intended, and how to break him in if he was a first time fuck. I watched while he led a fourteen year old from cock fondling to sucking, on to kissing and then to fucking. It took six weeks from first pick up to fucking and I had plenty of feels and sucks of his delicious young cock before Bert did him properly and then passed him on for me to play with while he went hunting for fresh meat.
I suppose this all sounds as though I was a homosexual teen, but, like my mates, I had girlfriends and got as much off them as I could, though I do have to admit that in two cases, I got a lot more from their younger brothers than I ever did from them!
Fact or fiction? Who knows where reality ends and fantasy takes over. What we do know, is that fantasy can be a lot of fun if it stays under control.
joshcock@hotmail.com