WARNING:
This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your taste, and/or is illegal in your area please do not read any further.
Please do not distribute it to any newsgroups and/or web-sites without permission from the author.This story has been embellished. While a lot of it did happen, most events has been altered to make things interesting and particularly to change names, times, places. All of it was consensual. At no time did I get raped or sexually assaulted against my will.
The summer of 89 will always be etched in my memory as the turning point in my life - from being a deeply closeted gay to a closeted gay who got his first taste of what it might feel coming out. I was 18. I had had all the fantasies one could ever imagine, but none of it had been real. There were lots of boys I'd befriended, and almost all of them had been in my fantasies. I'd cummed liters of cum, playing various scenarios in my mind with them. But I'd never had the guts to try and get close to even one. And by close, you know I mean, like maybe, finding out what they looked like under their shorts. Yeah, I know what you'd say, no locker room scenarios? No drunken parties? No one pulled my pants down, even in fun? Uh uh. We were kids in a cantonment in Delhi, India and if something like this did happen, it was all very quietly done. Or may be I was just stupid to not know how to ask the right questions to the right people, with the clever deviousness of distancing myself from any form of gay-ism, if I happened to find out that those people were remotely homophobic.
But there were boys. Everywhere. And as boys played, so did we. We congregated at the one and only playground for the 100 or so homes in that area. We considered ourselves fortunate to have one. Some months it would be hockey, or cricket. Those few weeks it had turned out to be soccer. We played until dark and beyond exhaustion. And after that we'd sit down on by the road and talk. It'd usually be one of the parents that would end up breaking us up by yelling out our names - for dinner or whatever. And then we'd disperse almost spontaneously, finding our ways back to our homes. Mine was a couple of blocks away and too far for anyone to yell out for me. That evening I'd walked home, alone (as always, since none of my friends lived close to my house), completely oblivious of the fact that that night would be one heck of a turning point in my life.
I'd already been home for almost half an hour when I heard my name being yelled out from outside. Our homes were all single family homes and mostly had fences around. Mine had a wall at the end of which was a gate. I stepped out onto the gravel and walked to the gate to see what the ruckus was about, this late in the evening. This was very unusual and rarely happened. Mostly because the parents in the neighborhood were fairly strict about anyone leaving the house around dinner time.
I was surprised to see three guys. Two were on their bicycle. The third had almost certainly ridden on the middle bar of one of bikes. My curiosity piqued. They were brothers and my only acquaintance to them was on the play ground. Caesar was around my age. Jason was barely 13 but an inch taller than I was. In contrast, I was a head taller than Caesar. Mark was the oldest and he'd have been 20 then. He was also the tallest, definitely a 6 footer. All were lean - not particularly athletic and had a much darker skin than most kids in my neighborhood. On the other hand, I was around 5'5, skinny and like most of the kids in our neighborhood, had a much fairer skin (white by Indian standards, lightly tanned by Caucasian standards). Another reason I hadn't hung out with these guys because unlike most of us, they went to a different school - a public school.
"What's up" I said, loudly and confidently but not yelling, as I climbed up my gate. I had the habit of doing that. The gate had rows of alternately inverted strips of metal that had the shape of a spade (the ones you see in a deck of cards). I had to climb a couple of rows so that I could comfortably rest my elbows on the top of the gate as I spoke to them.
Caesar was the one that spoke up first. He was the one on foot and by then had already reached the other side of the gate. He reached up to hold the gate but mildly surprised me when we got a hold of my belt, pulled me forward and hooked the belt onto the stem of one of the inverted spades on the gate. I looked down to see what he had done and didn't take it amiss at that time. I found his hand holding on to the buckle of my belt. It felt akin to someone holding the base of my tie mocking a threat - only it's my belt he was holding onto. Even before he spoke, I knew this wasn't going to be entirely fun. He had to look straight up at me as he spoke.
"Are you missing anything?", he taunted.
"What?" I had no idea what he was referring to.
"Should we tell him or let him find out in a few days?". He turned around, now grinning at his brothers. I looked for clues on the faces of these guys, but still didn't get it.
"Get your bicycle, we'll show you.". Now he was looking again at me.
I thought for a moment and then said, "OK". But even before I'd fished saying 'K', it hit me. "Oh shoooooot. Did I leave it on the play ground?.... Damn!!!"
"Did I leave it on the playground? Now he remembers." He was mocking me. "You have anything here?" he went on to say.
For a very brief moment I did not quite get what he meant by "here". I was hoping to find his index finger pointing at his temples or head or something. Until ... woahhhhh .... I felt his fingers pinching either sides of my zipper, desperately trying to get a hold of something underneath it. Had he moved his fingers a bit to his right he might even have found what he was furiously trying to reach.
I violently attempted to get my hips away. An instinctive reaction that was thwarted by the belt being hooked onto the gate. I was - yeah - pinned to it.
And before I could even make sense of it all, the very next thing I felt was his cold hand now entering the left leg of my short and find its ways onto my underwear. His index and middle fingers were already moving side to side on the surface of my underwear looking for the first signs of anything that did not have the same feel as my thigh... very much like the tongue of a snake trying to sniff it's prey out.
This was all too fast for me, but even then, my dick had begun to stir ... like a prey instinctively knowing that something was amiss. It was his middle finger that first struck mid-shaft of a still very much flaccid penis. And the next thing I knew, he had already latched on to my dick, his thumb curling on one side and his middle and index fingers getting a grip on my shaft the other way. I could now feel the pressure of the nails on both the fingers bear down on my underwear akin to the fangs of a snake getting it's first quick bite on a spot, based more on opportunity than by selection, making it's first set of incisions deep enough to inject just the right amount of venom to dazzle it's prey. Now the pressure kept growing and I winced with the pain and shuddered at the thought that his nails may now have penetrated the fabric of my underwear. My penis had started to grow, just a little at this point, like a prey beginning to feel the first effects of venom traumatizing nerve cell upon nerve cell as it coursed through the tissue. But then the pressure began to ease, but very quickly, his fingers having sensed the change below my underwear and began exploring the length of the shaft, in both directions, until they figured out exactly what they were hoping to find.
The next thing I could feel was the pressure of his thumb through my underwear, its nail digging deep into my still fairly soft uncircumcised head. The snake had now found the most effective spot on its prey to sink its fangs in for a second time and decisively inject a copious and potentially fatal doze of venom. I let out an "Awwww...." but not loud enough to alert anyone around. My foreskin was still covering the head of my penis and I could feel his nails digging deep into one of its folds. I was almost certain I would see blood on my underwear later. It took a bit of time for my flaccid glans to feel the full effect of his nail before my penis grew to its fully erect form gradually extending upwards toward my left. The snake had now exhausted its venom into its hapless trembling prey. It could safely leave its prey and return at a convenient time for its next go at it.
His fingers loosened their grip. I could feel his hand slide down but then only to feel it crawling back up again, this time from under my briefs. The skin of his rough oily fingers now touching the soft skin of my inner thigh. They soon moved upwards until the tips moving all the way until they first brushed against the skin of my ball sack and then onto the base of my dick where it joined the folds of my scrotum. Then with one fell swoop, his hand got a hold of my entire dick and pulled it all the way down. Until then my erection had been pointing upwards, but in that last moment, the base of my dick had endured a savage tug and along with it he had ended up uprooting a good number of pubic hair that were growing above the base of my penis. I forced myself to keep it down, but could not avoid another "Awwwwwwwww... you craiiizy.................?".
The snake had now made it's first attempt to swallow its prey and as the pressure of his grip settled down, I felt the urge to twitch my penis. This was crazy, but in the middle of my brain somewhere, there was this battle between wanting to put an end this madness and giving him enough cues to keep going. On one hand this was getting way too risky. What if these guys revealed all of this to my friends? What if any of my neighbors were peeping through their windows, seeing just enough for them to know what was happening? But temptation of exploring the unexplored won over. I managed to squeeze my arse cheeks closer and engineer voluntary twitches beginning with my anal sphincter to the tip of my throbbing rod, with a devious intent of giving Caesar the exact same sensation of a dick in the throws of dry ejaculation. I subtly wanted him to know that I was willingly permissive of every bit that he was doing to me.
Keep in mind that all of this had happened in seconds. In the middle of all of this, he was saying something to me... the sounds of which were befogged by swings of excitement and anxiety that had gripped me. Something along the lines of "Do you have anything here? ... got any shame leaving the bike? ...What if it got robbed ... rich spoiled kid ... think we are servants?"
After I'd pushed my anal sphincter to as many spasms as I could fake, I could get no more. I caught up at the last question. I now feared that if I did not respond, Caesar might lose interest and pull away.
I did not quite know what to say. With each question, he shook my dick, pulling it downward. It had the effect of pulling my pants upwards giving me a wedgy, painfully parting my balls and cutting into my sack and it hurt. I heard myself ..barely whispering .. more like groaning .. "Awww..pleeeees...I'm sorry .. come on man, I didn't call you guys servants ..."
"What sorry?" Then he went back to "Anything in here that proves you're a man? probably still a baby."
I was stuck for words.
He persisted. "Have you even tried shagging.... what?". He didn't wait for an answer. "Do you have any juice in here?" he asked as he shook my penis tapping my nutsack, jostling my badly stressed left testicle.
"um...uh...uhh" ... I really did not know what to say.
"Looks like nothing in there...." And now he began masturbating me. He had loosened his grip somewhat and as he moved his hand up and down, I could feel my glans popping in and out of my foreskin, on occasion pounding the base of his wrist.
Wow!!!! I couldn't believe what was happening. Wasn't he even afraid of someone catching us do this.
"Caesar! Not here.. let's go now. Call him home tomorrow!" I heard Mark say in a sharp urgent tone.
Boy! I'd have loved and hated spilling my seed. I was so close for the orgasm of my life and yet it would have been accompanied by embarrassment or shame going in with my pants wet or worse, cum dripping down my legs.
I was sorry to feel Caesar's hand moving out of my shorts.
"Come tomorrow to our house to pick up your cycle." he yelled before the three of them turned around and departed into the darkness.
For someone who turned white at the slightest hint of dirty talk, it was some day. I couldn't believe that I'd take the risk of allowing a stranger (you could call him that) to touch me on my privates in plain public view of at least 2 others. He had literally felt the moisture of my foreskin, felt the ridges on my scrotum, rolled his palm on the most sensitive part of my penis, soaked in on droplets of my urine, stolen the scent of my precum and gotten away with strands of my pubic hair. I had a feeling that Caesar wanted more. Hopefully he'd get rid of his brothers when I'd go to pick up the bike. I'd begun to trust the guy enough to open up to him completely.
To be continued....