Early in the summer of my sixteenth year, I was offered my first true taste of freedom. My older brother had taken an internship in Montreal, and though I had gotten my license only two months before, my parents agreed to let me use his car on a trial basis. The borders of my world thus exploded -- I remember taking distinct pleasure in such insignificant things. The quick dash for fast food, the choice to attend any party I wanted, I was royalty to my friends, most of who lacked a car (or in many cases their parent's trust).
On those summer mornings, I had tennis practice, after which I'd throw on some clean clothes and fly down to the deli I worked at with some friends. Though we did nothing but throw sandwiches together and punch a cash register, we were as kings -- money in the pocket, transportation, and warm nights open to exploration.
Chad and I had been acquaintances since his move to our town a year earlier. His parents had separated following the disclosure of his father's affair with a work assistant, and his mother, figuring a change in scenery was in order, moved her son out of Montreal to the country. Chad had acclimated slowly, as I suppose life in our town offered none of the spontaneity and excitement of bohemian Montreal. He had joined the tennis team in the Spring, though, and as the season passed we became closer friends. It was through me, in fact, that he got the job at the deli for the summer. Chad was a talented player, playing second only to me, and in time we had developed quite a rivalry.
I must admit that I am in general oblivious to the world around me. At the time Chad and I started hanging out I had yet to have a girlfriend -- my experience was limited to a few kisses and one awkward exploration of another girl's breasts the first night I ever got drunk. I now distinctly remember jerking off to thoughts of guys (which, as anyone, I did voraciously at that age, twice, three times a day on average), however it simply never entered my mind that this suggested a preference one way or another. Sometimes I envy the memory of such innocence, as by now I've suffered through enough years of intellectualizing sexuality and diversity to turn back on it all. That summer, however, every new thing that came my way I accepted and cherished as nothing other than pure living.
Lest I bore you with semantics, however, I remember Chad popping up in my fantasies with greater and greater frequency as the Spring went on. He had the craziest bushy red hair, tons of freckles, and blue eyes alive with mischief. Sexiest freckles one can imagine, though, as the body they dotted was firm, slim, and on the cusp of adulthood. His movements were smooth on the court, and towards the warmer end of the season his shirt came off within minutes of our afternoon practices. As the two top players on the team, we played each other almost daily, and our coach often left us to tend to the other players. I was more built and a bit broader than Chad, but there was a wiry toughness to his frame with which I couldn't compare. My hair is jet-black and straight as possible, and the trail of hair that ran below my bellybutton was no different. Chad's chest was completely smooth, the only hair I ever saw above his waist and below his head was under his arms, the same bright red but only a small, barely discernable clump.
I was in the perfect position to admire him, as though I was typically shy and introverted I was also the star player, and this slight dominance seemed to make whatever eccentricities acceptable to the others. Chad had a crisp smile, and was funny and lighthearted on the court. He had a wit that far outpaced mine, and made a huge number of jokes at my expense. Little did he know that I spent the majority of the nights following practices picturing him nude in the showers, on his knees, his mouth wrapped around the dick I stroked under the tented sheet in my bedroom. As I said, though, I had no qualms about this, and just ran with what I felt.
After I brought him on to work at the deli, Chad began hanging out with me and the other two friends I had there. At work each day we'd typically learn of what was going on that night, which meant either a party at the lake, bowling, or watching movies. Chad seemed to meet everyone in town within weeks, and became almost effortlessly popular. His childhood in Montreal, the fact that both of his parents were artists, the already-mentioned wit and charm -- practically every girl in town seemed to eye him with desire. He did accept some offers mostly late at night after six or seven beers, though nothing ever seemed to materialize. I spent most of these parties rowing on the lake or in a corner with a friend or two, but always began and ended with Chad, who was terribly fair and I remained his closest friend in town.
After one of such parties, which ended far later than my curfew, I was able to stay out by accepting an offer to stay at Chad's. Chad had no curfew, and I soon understood why. We got back to his house, exhausted, to find his mother sitting around a table with several friends, talking and drinking wine. Taken aback by this, given my proper, starch protestant upbringing, I expected awkwardness. Chad and his mom, however, treated each other with a friendliness I had never known with my parents, and I immediately realized that she was open with him, cool, liberal -- I was instantly hooked. Minutes later, Chad stripped to boxers in his room, hopped in bed, and invited me to do the same. Nervous, I said I'd rather sleep on the couch at the other side of the room. He shrugged, and was asleep in moments, giving me enough time to quietly bring myself to orgasm with my eyes fixed across the dark room on his sleeping face.
After this, I began spending as much time as possible at Chad's house. I was intoxicated by how openly they shared a house, as we were free to do what we pleased (including, later on that summer, smoking weed we found in one of her drawers). Chad and I began playing tennis every Saturday, our only day off from the deli. I'd pick him up late in the morning, we'd play four or five sets, and then return to his house for a swim. There was an in-ground pool behind his house, with a small pool house that sat between it and the forest that bordered the property. The more time I spent at his house, the more I saw how comfortable Chad was with his body -- after running from the car to the pool house, he would effortlessly strip off his sweaty clothes, throw on a suit, and be in the water by the time I had only sheepishly peeled off my shirt. He didn't even turn away from me, and I came to look forward to seeing his adolescent penis, plump and circumcised in a sea of bright red pubic hair. My favorite of his features was his midsection- his stomach was flat and barely suggestive of abs popping through, and his waist cut inward from his hipbones, visible under his skin. Around back, he had those incredibly tempting dimples right above his ass, which was small and round.
On the third or fourth Saturday of our ritual, Chad and I lounged in the sun after a raucous swim. I remember this vividly. We were talking about random things, when Chad suddenly blurted out, man, I am so horny these days. Like every moment, you know?' I had no idea what to say. He continued, you the same, man? I mean I just don't know what to do with myself.' I finally replied, though stunned by his frankness.
Yeah, completely, all the time,' I said. I looked over at him, and along the path to his face I saw a tent in his swimsuit. He was half hard, right there next to me, his legs still spread open as if totally comfortable. He saw that I looked at his crotch, and looked down as well, saying flippantly, yeah, see what I mean? All the time.'
I could see the outline of his partial erection perfectly through the wet orange cloth. I felt a whir in my own genitals, and took a long, erratic, nervous breath in. Chad was unfettered, though, and his eyes lit up. `Hey, let me show you something. Check this out,' he said as he got up, his dick bobbing as he walked over to the pool house. I followed him, shy about my own semi-hardness, into the pool house. Upon entering the pool house, Chad closed the door and went over to the closet. The room had a bench, a rack to hang clothes and towels on, and an old couch that sat in front of a stereo and a tiny television set. Chad opened the closet near the couch, fished for something on tiptoes, and came down with several magazines in his hands.
He looked up at me, showing the only uncertainty I had seen to that point, and held the magazines out to me. `I know it's pathetic, but ever seen one of these?' They were porno mags, of course, Hustler and Penthouse and some raunchy French ones from Montreal -- and indeed I hadn't ever seen one before, and told Chad this.
`Well, I don't know, they were my Dad's. They're good for, you know, jacking off.'
I remained silent, and could tell Chad thought for sure that I'd judged him.
I'm sorry, man, forget it,' he said, I'm just weird.'
I didn't want this to stop, and desperation kicked a phrase out of my head. No, not at all, it's cool; I jerk off all the time. Never seen one of these though, let me see.' Chad smiled, relieved, and handed me one of the raunchy French magazines. We sat on the bench next to each other, and I opened the magazine. The memory of seeing those first pictures is so fresh for me, they weren't particularly interesting, mostly vaginas and the random intercourse pics, but the situation itself was intensely, vividly erotic. We sat and giggled like children at the photos, and I turned the pages only to find another source for laughter on the following page. At one point, Chad said, wait, check this out, this is messed up.' He leaned over to his right away from me to pick up another magazine, at which time I saw how tight his suit was against his fully hard cock. My full harness was hidden under the magazine, but Chad's was there for my viewing.
He picked up the magazine, flipped through it, and got to a page with a story and some pictures. The pages around it were sort of partially stuck together, and as he pulled them apart he looked at me and smirked sheepishly. He began reading the story out loud, about a guy who loses his virginity at a high school dance, and while reading Chad moved his hand several times to his crotch, adjusting his huge erection. When he got to the end of the story, I seemed close to fainting. He dropped the magazine on the floor, threw his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a breath. `Shit, man, see what I mean?' He said, turning his head and fixing his gaze on mine. I smiled, nodding a bit, completely floored.
Man, I'm gonna have to jerk off, or I'll be crazy,' he said desperately. I immediately started to make like I was leaving, and was trying to think of a way to react to what he said, when he stopped me dead in my tracks. Do you want to jerk off? I mean, it's no big deal, I don't think. We could just, I mean, it looks like neither of us could even stand up straight right now, anyway.'
His joke broke the silence, and I let out a breath of temporary relief. I settled back on to the bench, and I remembering thinking how comforting it was that Chad was nervous too, stumbling around his words. Had I been doing the talking, I'd surely have sounded the same.
I looked at him and let a few words tumble out of my confused mind. `So, you mean, just right here?'
`Oh, um, yeah, why not? I'll lock the door. My mom's in the house anyway.' Hell, I thought, she probably wouldn't even care. Chad got up, hunched to allow his member comfort, and locked the door. He turned to me, smiled self-consciously, and started undoing his swimsuit ties. I took this as my cue, but because I was wearing athletic shorts with an elastic waist, I wasn't sure what to do. Hesitating, I watched Chad undo his ties, loosen the waistband, and push his suit down about a foot, letting his swollen dick pop out from the constraint. He sat down on the bench, his leg brushing mine, and looked at me expectantly. Left without any other choice, I shuffled my ass up a bit on the bench, grabbed my waistband, and pulled it down to my knees while still sitting. There we both sat, our erections standing at attention, silent.
Chad glanced at my dick quickly, then at my face, flashing the same fast, shrugging grin, and moved his right hand down to his cock. Left-handed, I did the same, and we both began stroking our dicks slowly. My hands shaking, I closed my eyes as if to feign a safe hiding place, and could barely contain the euphoria I felt throughout my body. I took care to stroke slowly, as I didn't want this to end in embarrassment. I kept my eyes closed for a minute or so, listening to the silence interrupted only by the shuffling of two teenage hands up and down, up and down.
My breath quickened with Chad's, and soon I heard him moan slightly under his breath. I opened my eyes to see him gazing at me, his head thrown back and his eyes an intense and ecstatic blue. He was looking at me! I almost came when I saw this, but stopped stroking to prevent a climax. Chad moaned a bit more, and shuffled his ass back and forth to force his shorts down to his ankles.
He stepped one foot out of the suit, and spread his legs wide, touching mine with his left. Lubrication oozed out of his dick, which he used it to slick himself up and increase his pace. I was getting hot again, stroking faster and faster, when Chad's moans suddenly quickened, getting louder. He threw his head back, gasped for air, and his body seemed to seize, his pecs jumping out of his chest. I stopped stroking, in awe of what I was watching. With one last gasp, Chad held his dick as he came, one thrust, two thrusts, I think it was ten thrusts in all, his cum squirting as high as on of his nipples. I was living a dream, literally. As he finished his climax, I started stroking, suddenly fast.
All I wanted was to cum. I knew this would be an incredible orgasm, as I had never experienced pleasure this fine before. I closed my eyes again, stroked fast, and just as I got beyond the point where I couldn't turn back, Chad reached out his left hand and touched my shoulder. I heard him say `yeah, man,' as my body reached that point, and my body slumped down the bench as I lost muscle control under the influence of such pleasure. Chad then ran his hand down from my shoulder, sliding it along my chest to my stomach. The sensation was all I could take, and I grunted loudly as I shot across my stomach and legs. As I finished and caught my breath, Chad rubbed my chest ever so slightly, almost in a friendly way. I felt like I had flown across the room, out the door, and into the summer sun. My mind was blank and the moment was pure. When I finally hit ground again, I opened my eyes and realized that Chad was chuckling. Immediately defensive and horrified, I looked at him to confirm his ridicule. What I saw instead, though, was that he was looking straight ahead, his hands rubbing his cheeks like a child, and just simply chuckling to himself. I smiled hugely, and in the surrender of my ego I knew for the first time that I could love this kid.
I too began laughing, and when Chad took his hands out of his face and looked at me, he said, sandwiched between his receding laughter, `Jesus, what a mess.'
Embarrassment returned shortly, and I jumped up to grab some toilet paper from the bathroom to clean myself off. As I finished and pulled my shorts up, Chad called from the other room, `hey, how about me?' I grabbed some paper, walked back out into the room, and he was just still sitting there, legs spread, now limp, semen dotting his torso. I just couldn't get over his presence -- not vain, just completely lacking concern.
We didn't ever really talk about what had happened. Chad simply cleaned up, retied his shorts, and gave me a friendly shove before taking off out of the pool house, through the air, and into the pool with a splash.
The event provided me not only the next week's supply of masturbation inspiration but also a constant, maniacal, undeniable grin. And to boot, everything seemed to remain normal between Chad and me. Whatever it meant, and indeed in the near future it came to mean entirely different things to both of us, mattered not at the time.
It became a ritual to jerk off with him after our tennis matches every Saturday. Though eventually I yearned for more, it seemed only reasonable not to push my luck and risk what I already had. Chad didn't indicate the same wish, and stuck to no more than the slight touch of a leg or pat on the shoulder. In my dreams and fantasies, however, everything happened. I dreamed of submitting myself to him, of tasting his penis, and oh his lips -- to this day a fine kiss can ignite me as much as anything. But for the time being, we were jerk off buddies. Things would remain this way until the end of the summer.