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Memories of Richard
Was sitting over coffee this morning reviewing in my mind the various boys during my junior and high school years I used to fantasize about when I recalled one boy in particular to whom I dedicated many a soggy nightstand tissue. His name was Richard.
Richard was in my 10th grade Home Room. And, later, in my Stage Craft class when I was in 12th. Pity I was so intensely shy back then. I normally arrived to Home Room before he did, and I always sensed a prolongued gaze between us when he entered the class, so I think I could have had him, if only I had not been so shy.
When I was in 10th, aged 15, he was 14, in 9th. He was rather short for his age and with a slender slight build. He, too, was rather shy. I always saw him in the hallways walking with another boy whose name I can't remember.
The first time I saw Richard on the first day of school when he walked into Home Room wearing jeans and a faded denim shirt, I knew I wanted him. He had somewhat short, freshly cut dirty blonde bordering on light brown hair. His eyes were a muted grey blue resembling the faded blue of his denim shirt. They held a sad, shy quality to them with a hint of fearful vulnerability. He had the sort of skin, that even though he was rather fair haired, would get a warm rich tan to it over the summer.
In Stage Craft, two years later, when he was then 16, but still looking younger than his age, I once saw him while working on a stage flat, sprawled on the floor, stretching a large section of unprimed canvas over the flat's wooden frame. His body's position created a seperation between the back of his shirt and the waist of his jeans and I could see he was wearing bikini briefs; the fabric feauring some kind of geometric pattern. Knowing he wore bikini briefs was a major turn-on for me. Back in the mid-70s seeing a boy in such exotic underpants was very rare. It made me question his sexual orientation, but wrote it off as wishful thinking. How naive I was at that age.
Again, I wish I hadn't been so shy back then. I would have loved sucking his dick, especially when he was still in 9th grade and 14. I imagine he probably had a very minimal tuft of pubic hair at that age. He may have even had a speedo tanline, knowing two years later that he wore bikini briefs. I wonder what his speedo would have looked like? I bet, like his bikini briefs, his speedo would have been patterned and not solid.
You know what? I think I just remembered the name of the boy I always spotted Richard walking beside in the hallways. His name was John! He was a good head taller than Richard, and had somewhat broad shoulders with a perfectly erect posture. He had light brown hair bordering on being a dark somewhat reddish blonde. I suppose they call that shade auburn.
John was in my 10th grade PE class, and was my age, also 15 at that time. I went to a very large high school with close to 5000 students and so our PE classes were equally large in size, comprised of freshman through senior students. I never got to know John, and never once spoke to him. But, I remember one day seeing him being teased by some other boys in the class for wearing a color-coordinated track suit. Mid 70s boys weren't into stylish sport coordinates at the time. I remember him looking somewhat embarrassed and hurt by their teasing. It was the last time I ever saw him wearing that track suit.
The only times I would ever see Richard smile was in the presence of John. Richard wore braces in 9th and I remember how cute he would look when I'd get to see his teeth twinkling with the orthodontics covering them. He had cute dimples when he would smile. With the wisdom of what I know now, my instincts tell me Richard and John were probably more than just best friends, but lovers. If only I had a more refined gaydar back then, maybe I could have been in John's shoes, and gotten into Richard's pants. But, alas....
Anyway, my fond memories of Richard over coffee this morning naturally turned to fantasies about him, with John, and with myself.
I can just imagine how sweetly tentative their first shared sexual experience together was. I imagine it happening at John's after school one day, with the house to themselves.
I wonder who sucked who first? My fantasy would have it being John going down on Richard. And, at 14, with Richard's mom probably still buying his undies at that time, in a pair of classic tighty-whities, perhaps a pair of Towncrafts purchased at JCPenneys. Ah, who can forget that signature dashed blue line featured in the elastic band of 1970s Towncraft briefs for boys.
I picture Richard laying back on John's bed, legs bent over the side. His Levis wrapped around his ankles, his Towncrafts pulled down to just above his knees, the material somewhat stretched between his slightly parted legs. Richard's very excited erection hovering stiffly in the air. That very minimal sparse tuft of honey golden pubes at the base of his groin. His nutsack still devoid of any hairs, appearing plump and swollen. Richard propped up on his elbows, a shy tentative expression on his face, with horny yearning in his eyes.
John seated on the bed directly next to Richard. His jeans still in place. He'll pull his down later when it's Richard's turn to suck him off. Leaning his head down over Richard's crotch, touching and gripping Richard's immature boner in just his fingertips as he engulfs the meaty tip within his mouth. Sweet 14 year old Richard. Still shy of five inches in length and probably much closer to four. The musky ripe aroma of Richard's pubescence filling John's nose as he licks the glass-smooth surface of Richard's circumcized tip, tasting a hint of its satiness. Richard silent and motionless, too shy to vocalize the pleasure he's experiencing from his very first blow job. The white t-shirt and denim shirt he wears is riding up a bit, exposing his smooth flat tummy. The slightly contoured surface of his abdomen expanding and deflating slowly.
Richard looks on in erotic fascination as John's puckered lips begin to slowly glide down and back up the length of his shaft. John swirling his tongue around the bloated tip with a couple of sweeps in between each bobbing glide. A quiver of tension evident in Richard's butternut tanned thighs, his knees parting a bit wider, a suppressed urge to moan caught in his throat. A softly whispered "John...". John emitting his own barely audible moan of excitement in doing what he's only dreamt about doing until today.
So very sweet and so very hot and sexy -- a boy's first blowjob, and, a boy's first taste of newly pubescent cock.
And, now for some fanticus interruptus...haha...as the focus of my remembrance and fantasies about Richard shifts to the if-only-things-could-have-been-different version.
I picture Richard in the shower, a forearm leaning against the shower wall, his forehead resting against his forearm. The air about him slightly foggy with steam from the hot water. His legs are spread, his knees slightly bent, the sides of his small rounded butt cheeks hollowing in as he thrusts his soaped up penis in and out of his clenching fingers. His body suddenly going rigidly motionless as three rapid bursts of cloudy boy sperm fly out of his spasming penis. His knees bending slightly more as his body shakes in orgasm.
I wonder if I was ever featured in one of Richard's jack-off sessions in the shower. Would I have been top to his bottom, or, bottom to his top within his fantasy? I was taller than him, and a year older, but he was somewhat more masculine than me, more, hmmmm, stoic, I suppose is the word for it. Or, was that just his shyness that made him appear that way?
Maybe he fantasized about fucking me. Hopefully he fantasized about me sucking him with him franticaly fucking my mouth. I would have gladly knealt in front of him and let him rape my mouth with his horny 14 year old dick. His hands gripped around the back of my head. His thrusts starting out slowly as he long-dicks my mouth, the movements emanating from his hips. Then, as his passion builds, those thrusts becoming shorter and faster, his piston-like movements now emanating from the base of his groin, his sparsely haired pubis pivoting up and down at nearly a fluttering speed. My salivating mouth feeling the rigid heat of him rubbing fastly back and forth across the ladled surface of my tongue. His immature endowment still at that attenuated length of early puberty where even with his long-dicking thrusts I'm in no risk of gagging and even less at risk when, at the end, when he grips my head and micro-pumps anxiously just before he arches forward in one final pump. His groin stretched, trembling with tension. My nose buried in the spicey tang of his soft sparse fuzz of newly grown pubes. His unbearably tight skinned engorgement flaring down the urethral ridge as he splatters warm, salty-sweet bursts of his boyish cum against the dangling uvula at the opening of my throat. The straining, prolongued grunt sounding from above my head in combination with his machine-gun rapid squirts causing my own 15 year old cock to send forth rope upon rope of teen spunk arcing into the air as my horny teen cock thrusts between my tightly clenched fist. My squating ass clenching tightly as my balls release their puckered up load.
...................................
With my eyes momentarily closed, I slurp my last swallow of tepid warm, creamed and sweetened coffee, imagining it's Richard's 14 yr old boycum. Opening my eyes, I cap my pen and close my notebook. Memories...