Michael's sexual awakening

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=============================================================================== STORY MICHAEL'S Sexual Awakening (Volumes I -> VIII)

Volume I and II

I can still remember the time I had my first ejaculation. I was 13 and it was the summer between 7th and 8th grade. I was real shy around girls and in the absence of sex-ed in those days (late 60's) knew absolutely nothing, other than that I got all stiff when ever I had those nasty thoughts.

I had discovered my father's Playboy stash and had had many sessions studying the nudes but never got beyond the pictures to read anything in the magazines and did not even know what an ejaculation was. And I was embarrassed to ask anyone about this "stiff prick" problem was, I was so naive that I thought something was wrong with me and too ashamed to tell anyone.

It all changed that summer. I was riding my bike, a solitary event I did for hours every day, lonely as I was. I had just started out and was about 2 blocks from home when I passed 4 girls, all about my age. As I passed, I heard one girl say "Oh, he looks like he's old enough" in a tone of voice like "he would do". I didn't know what they meant but they followed me on their bikes for a block or so. I felt they were following me, and being shy I stopped to let them pass. In a moment they were next to me and they stopped beside me.

"Hi" said one of the girls. She was pretty. Blond, long hair, thin build, and wearing a pair of white shorts and blouse. Shoes, but no socks.

"Hi", I replied uncomfortably. They all giggled, and I blushed, without knowing why.

"We were wondering if you would do us a favor", the same girl who had spoken before started out, and before I could reply she added, "Oh, how old are you?".

I didn't know what to say or how to read them. "thirteen and a half - why?"

"Oh, we were just wondering. Will you do us that favor?". More giggles from the other three.

I looked up at them and they all seemed to think this was funny. Were they making fun of me? Why? And what was the joke? I looked down at my fly - no, it was zipped up - what had I done wrong and why were they teasing me?.

They saw my hesitation. "Aw, come on, just say yes", the one girl persisted.

"What is it?" I finally asked, and looked down, too shy to make eye contact.

"Just say yes, and I'll tell you."

I just shrugged. The giggles were silent but all four were still smiling. I was still off guard and didn't know what to say or do. Finally I said, "Well, I've got to be going, see you around," and started to get back on my bike. I felt her arm on mine.

"Okay, Okay", she began, "I'll tell you what it is. We wanted to show you something. You'll think it's neat."

"What?"

"It's a secret. I promise you'll like it. It's up the road about a block, you're going that way anyway". Mysterious. But now my heart was starting to pound. And her hand on my arm seemed so urgent.

"Okay", I finally said, "if it doesn't take too long". It might have been my imagination but they seemed to get excited at this.

"Great, follow us", she said, and they all started getting on their bikes. Somewhat reluctantly I did the same. We took off riding slow. After about a block I was losing my nerve to stay with them "Where are we going?" I asked.

"We're almost there. Relax. You'll like it".

A moment later we came up on the tiny set of woods adjoining a local church.

"Turn here" she ordered. They stopped their bikes, lifted them up over the curb and looked at me with anticipation. I stopped when they did but wasn't sure if I should go any farther. I knew these woods, if you could call them that. They went back about 100 yards or so. There was an empty field beyond that that backed up to the elementary school. Many a game of hide and seek and been played in these trees when I went to that school. There was nothing in there I hadn't seen before, though it had probably been a couple of years since I last visited these trees.

"Come on" she urged. This same girl did all the talking. Almost pleading, she repeated "come on, it's in here". Hmmm, I didn't know any of these girls. I didn't even know there names. I hadn't seen them around my neighborhood before. What did they want?

"What's in there?" I stammered.

"Just come on. You promised".

I had not, and despite that and my pounding heart I followed them. Too embarrassed to say no.

We walked the bikes about 30 or 40 yards into the woods. At last I saw the object of their attention: A tent. An old canvas tent, set up and standing. As I stood there looking, and still not knowing why they wanted to show me a tent the leader of the pack spoke again.

"We put it up. Yesterday." And now here voice sounded seductive somehow. "We slept in it last night. Just the four of us. Neat huh?".

"Yeah", I admitted shyly, "That's kind of cool. Why'd you put it here though?".

"Oh, it's real private, " she said, "REAL private" she reiterated.

"Yeah, it's real private", another one of the girls said and kind of half giggled.

I turned and looked back. They had let me drift forward and now I realized that they were all looking at me carefully, as if they were sizing me up for something.

"Well it's kind of cool," I said, "thanks for showing me", for lack of anything intelligent to say.

"Oh, there's more. That's not all we wanted to show you. What we REALLY wanted to show you is inside the tent".

Oh. Hmmm. This is getting stranger by the minute. Were they looking to beat me up or something. It had to be some kind of trick.

"I don't know ..." I started.

"Aw, you're already here. And it will just take a minute. We won't hurt you", she coaxed.

"Okay, real quick though" I agreed.

The leader went in first, followed reluctantly by myself and eagerly by the others. The flaps were pulled back letting in a little light. There were a couple sleeping backs, a flashlight, and a small stack of magazines. The tent was not quite tall enough to stand up in, we all had to crouch.

"Sit down" she encouraged. I did and they followed.

"Here's what we wanted to show you" said the leader, and from under the stack of magazines she pulled out a Playboy. "Let's look at it", her voice was getting huskier, hungry.

I sat silently, not saying anything as she laid it open in front of me and opened it to one of the juicy pages. "Like it?"

"It's okay", I said. my pulse was quickening, and I felt a stirring in my pants. All I was wearing was a pair of shorts (and briefs underneath), skinny as I was I always went shirtless in the hot summer months. I was embarrassed that they might see me getting hard and hid it as best I could by folding my arms in my lap.

"Oh, you know you like it. All boys do. It gives you an erection doesn't it".

God this was embarrassing. Did she know about my problem? (Yes, I was really this dumb about sex). "What's an erection" I asked.

They all giggled. "That's what you have right now between your legs" the ringleader snickered.

I must have been red as a beet. "What do you mean" I stuttered, lying, confused ... excited.

"You do too. You've got a boner. We can all see it in your pants right now. You can't fool us!". They were all staring at my crotch. I thought I was going to die. I hung my head, ashamed to make eye contact, not knowing what to do now. If I got up they would see it for sure and anyway, they had laid this out well. I would have to push past all four to get out of the tent. God, they mad me look stupid. I just sat there as if in a stupor, not knowing my next move.

"It's okay" said the leader-girl soothingly. "We won't make fun of you. And we won't tell anyone ... " and after a pause, "show it to us".

"HUH?" I shuddered.

"Your boner. We want to see it".

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Giggles and more giggles.

"Aw come on. Don't you like us? We aren't going to hurt you. We like you. We think you're cute. Sexy. You turn us on. Doesn't he Marie?" she now spoke to the other girls.

The one she called Marie just nodded. Perhaps they too were a little unsure of themselves. The one girl seemed to be driving this. My breath was getting a little short now, and my penis felt like it was going to burst my pants from the continued gaze of these four strangers.

"I don't think I could" I muttered.

"Why not".

"I just couldn't. That's all."

"Oh, don't be shy. If you show us yours, I'll show you mine".

Oh boy. This was turning me on something awful. For a moment I pictured here naked - I had never seen a naked girl live, in person. Oh gosh. And something strange was going on inside me. There was a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like butterflies or something. A tightness. It was a new feeling ... A nice feeling ... a weird feeling.

"Please" she begged. "What if I go first. Then will you?".

I shrugged, sheepishly. I wanted to see here but, well ...

"Okay. I'll go first she said, tired of waiting for my reply and going for broke. Tantalizingly she pulled off her shirt. She kneeled up in the tent and played with her small but gorgeous breasts.

"Now, take off your pants" she ordered. I hesitated. "If you don't we will".

I could tell she meant it. All five of us were breathing heavy now. I laid back and unsnapped by shorts. Again I hesitated.

"Keep going" she rasped, hoarsely. In later years I would recognize the voice of a woman in heat.

With the four encouraging me I slowly unzipped my fly. My hard-on was now visible in my white cotton jockey shorts as I inched my pants down.

They gasped. I blushed even redder. Now the world would know about this four inch monster I had been hiding for so long. I stopped with my pants at my knees.

"All the way off ... if you want me to do the same", she said coyly.

I complied. Four pairs of eyes stared at the tent in my underpants. I felt humiliated. Ashamed. My secret was out in front of four complete strangers, girls no less. What if they went to my school?

And still I stared at those beautiful young boobs. This WAS better than looking at magazines. If only I could touch them.

"That's a good boy. Now I'll show you mine." Seductively she unzipped her shorts, and slipped them down. It was my turn to gasp. The tiny white cotton panties looked warm, inviting. Oh God, that feeling in my belly was getting more intense. My heart was racing, it felt like I could hardly breathe.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, snapping me out of my daze. "It's your turn".

Oh. Yeah. Uh ... hmmm. Lets see, uh, nah. I felt paralyzed. She wanted me to take off my underwear. God, I couldn't do THAT. My head was swimming. I was afraid to go any farther.

The seduction was back in here voice as the other three looked on with anticipation.

"Okay," she said reassuringly, "just lay back".

This wasn't helping the matter.

"Really, it will be okay. Just lay back". I did. I was now laying down waiting for more orders from this aggressive little woman-child. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth waiting for what ever happened next.

First I felt her hand on my thigh. I tensed but didn't move otherwise. Slowly it ran up my leg, gently brushing my throbbing member. A tug, a squeeze, some more. My body felt like it was going to explode.

"Relax", she said soothingly.

A hand now reached just under my waist band. Fingers probed the top edge of my pubic hair. And then a second hand.

"Lift your hips", she whispered.

As I did I felt the hands grip the waist band and slowly pull down my underwear. I was past the point of caring. The events had overtaken me. It was like I was out of my body as the four all crowded around to inspect.

I felt hands, everyone hands, one at a time, or maybe two, tugging, gently squeezing.

One hand began gently pulling on the head, around the glans ... And I exploded. With a sudden rush all the breath left my body. I felt a massive tingling, similar to that feeling you get going down on a roller coaster, only more intense. Everywhere. I shuddered. I could feel my penis pulsing, spitting, it seemed like a waterfall was being jettisoned from my groin. The girls were visibly excited and startled by the intensity of my first ejaculation, and backed away, staring madly.

Slowly, things subsided. I was covered with ejaculate, and the girls, having recovered their breath were now saying things like "ooooo" or "ish" as they looked for places to wipe their hands, also filled with my fluids.

The leader chastised them all, "Well, what did you expect. I told you it was messy?!".

"Gross" one of them said. It was obviously the first time they had seen this event as well. Between the "gross" and "ish" though I felt really low, and foolish. Used too. There was nothing to wipe off with. They watched, fascinated as I wiped my chest, and neck off on my pants leg.

Blushing, I pulled up my underpants, feeling the remnants of my orgasm soak into the cotton. The girl pulled her pants back on too. I was not to see her bare pussy after all, I guess.

"I've got to get going" I stammered, pulling on my shorts.

"Oh, stay a while"

But I couldn't be convinced. I was startled, confused .. . overwhelmed.

"You can come back tomorrow" the girl said. I still did not know her name, or her mine.

Blushing, I pushed past the girls and crawled out of the tent, feeling one hand run up the crack of my butt as I crawled out on all fours.

Though dimmed by the trees, the light stabbed my eyes, and made me dizzy for a moment. I hurried to my bike and rode off, pondering the events of past hour.

Volume III

Having been been initiated to the joys of cumming by those four girls in the tent (See Volume II) I was now in a minor state of frenzy. Frequent masturbation while fantasizing about that event led to more and more sexual exploration and ever widening fantasy. Wet dreams became frequent, sometimes leaving evidence in the sheets. My mother never said anything on those days that laundry got done, always leaving me with that "what if she knows" feeling. Of course she must have known boys have wet dreams and simply afforded me the privacy of not mentioning it. Still, it was embarrassing at the time and always remained unmentioned. I started taking daily baths, so I could relax and explore my body and soul behind locked doors (my room had no lock plus I shared with a younger brother). The jokes at school about kids "jacking off" had me convinced I was the only one doing it (ah, if only sex-ed had been around in those days to put my minds at ease).

But it was not long after that tent encounter that school started again. And the last weekend before school a friend in the neighborhood was having a birthday slumber party - boys only, of course.

There were about 7 kids there ranging in age from 11-13. Larry and I were the oldest. Larry's parents were out for the evening and left us alone to party. This was low risk for the parents, as we were all good kids and it was a close Catholic neighborhood.

Ah, but Larry had other plans. Larry was very well developed and liked to show it in the locker room at school. And he apparently had a healthy interest in sex.

The early evening was spent playing kick-the-can, and other games. But once inside for the evening the game turned to poker. Nobody brought any money along and after an hour or so with poker chips with no money backing it up the game became stale. Larry suggested strip poker. With only minor reluctance we all agreed.

Though the nudity made it stimulating (and I was curious to see all these lads naked), this, too, got boring after a while. After a few games everyone had lost several times, everyone had seen everyone else, some more developed that others, but no one had become aroused for instance. Larry wanted to make the game interesting. Each person, once naked had to produce a "boner". Some of the younger kids seemed genuinely not to know what this meant. I sure did and almost got hard thinking about all the times I had jacked off. Once everyone had agreed, the game began anew.

The littler ones were out first. Some of them had trouble "getting it up" but with a little coaching from Larry several pre-pubescent little cocks were standing up. Besides Larry and myself, only one other boy had pubic hair and he didn't have much. His name was Mitch and he was the second to last to go, leaving Larry and myself. Mitch was hard before his underwear ever came off and this caused him much embarrassment. Eventually Larry and I were both down to our underpants. I won the next hand. Larry stood up, dropped his whites and with but a touch of his hang sprang to attention. He was huge and everyone was in awe of Larry as he stood in the middle, still stroking himself even though he had already produced the obligatory hard-on.

"How many of you guys can cum?" he asked.

Everyone giggled but I was fascinated by the question. I said that I could. Mitch said he could too. The others were somewhat confused as to what cumming meant.

"You know, squirt your stuff when you're hard" he advised.

There was still a lot of uneasy questions and Larry challenged the group to a group jerk-off. With some reluctance we all agreed except Mitch. He wanted nothing to do with it but with some badgering conceeded finally.

Everyone formed a circle and ... well, we commenced. With Larry urging everyone on hands were jerking everywhere. Larry got there first and with a dramatic "her she comes" jettisoned several large wads into the middle of the circle. Most everyone stopped to watch, mesmerized by the sight of it. Awe on the faces of the younger boys convinced me they had never seen an ejaculation before.

With more urging from Larry the rest of us set back to work. I was the second to shoot, sending mine high and long in several quick spurts. More nervous oohs and ahs. Inspired, the others worked hard on their members, but the rest, including Mitch could not produce, although several of the others had "dry" cums.

After a while we put our things away and went to bed. I was beginning to feel less like a pervert, knowing others were doing it.

As the eighth grade got under way, I started hanging out more and more with Larry and another boy named Dieter. Dieter had lived in the old neighborhood and had attended the same elementary school for a while as Larry and I, but his family had moved across town. We were reunited with Dieter at the junior high school. When we were small, Dieter had been the leader of the pack, you might say. He was the same age as Larry and I, and though Larry was bigger, Dieter was also the toughest of the lot, and had proved it on occasion. What Dieter wanted, Dieter would always get and everyone did as Dieter commanded. It was the same in junior high school, only now we were all nearly 14 years old. And Dieter, well .. he had a certain charisma and all the girls had a crush on Dieter, and Dieter would have his way with many of them. Now when we were real young we had used to play a silly game at Dieter's old house. The three of us would take turns where one lad would be stripped, and his clothes hidden somewhere in the house. The lad would scurry about the place in the raw looking for his clothes, to the jeers and heckling of his equally young comrades. The game was always played in fun, and none of use really paid much attention to each others pre-pubescent bodies (we were about 8 or 9 years old then). This was to be the backdrop on my first young experience with "bondage". Larry and I rode Dieter's bus home from school one Friday and we were horsing around. Dieter's folks were going to be gone all evening, as was his older sister, Carole. Larry and I were going to hang out there until ten o'clock or so when my father was to pick us up. The old game came up and we laughed at old times. Dieter suggested we should play it one more time, "for kicks". Larry went along with the idea as he always did with Dieter's ideas, but I was reluctant. Before I knew what was happening the two of them had set upon me. While Larry held my arms, Dieter one by one yanked off my clothes, saving my underwear for last. Once those were gone Dieter set out to "hide" them. After a short while he came back into the room (their family room) with a smirk. Larry released me and the game began despite my objections. Now I had been naked many times in the locker room with these guys before but being stripped in another person's house was humiliating. But having no choice I searched the house for my clothes, and to my dismay could find nary a stitch of my clothing. After a while I surrendered and asked for clothes back. Now when we were little that would be the end of the game but Dieter would have none of that today. He refused to return the items, and instead goaded me further. I pleaded with Larry to intervene but he just laughed with Dieter and teased me as well. Finally, pissed off I sat on the couch and refused to continue.

"Fine" Dieter said. "Then you can sit here all night. Larry and me are going to the local 7-11 for some cokes. You can look while we're gone or just sit there naked".

"Yeah, well, if I have to, I'll take some of your clothes" I retorted defiantly.

Dieter reflected on this and said, "Wait here". He then left the room, presumably to get my clothes back. But to my surprise when he came back he had nothing but a roll of duct tape. In a flash he grabbed my hands and tried to pull them behind my back. Larry caught on quick and jumped to Dieter's aid. In moments I was flat on my face with my wrists tightly taped behind me, still naked as a jaybird.

"That'll hold him till we get back" Dieter laughed at his handiwork. "If you can't find your clothes by the time we get back we'll give you a break - maybe".

What a spot. The two then left me there alone in the house. I did look a little more but at this point I was more interested in getting my bonds off. It seemed like it was taking them forever to get back. Finally after a while I heard bikes coming back up the driveway. Then to my dismay I heard voices - but not those of Larry or Dieter. It was Carole, Dieter's older sister and some other girls. In a panic I rushed down the hall into Dieter's room and pushed the door shut with my feet. My heart was pounding and my pending embarrassment.

I heard Carole and two of here girlfriends come in the house. These girls were all about 15-16 years old, kind of cute. Carole was a knock out, and the others were pretty too. Within moments they were coming down the hall towards me. Carole's room was right next to Dieters.

"Dieter, Are you home?" she called out. As I sat crouched behind his bed I heard her come up to his door, knock once, call out his name and then open the door when she did not get a reply. And there I was, red from head to toe, feebly trying to hide behind his bed.

"WHAT?! ... What are you DOING?!", she exclaimed, "Mike, ...", she was speechless. She was speechless - boy was I speechless.

"What is it, Carole", one of the other girls called out. That was Cindy. I recognized the voice. And I could hear their footsteps approaching as well.

By now, Carole was laughing. "Look at this" she said to her friends as they followed here into the room. They all giggled at my plight.

"Mike, what's going on. Where is Dieter?"

Sheepishly and with a great deal of reluctance and embarrassment I told them of my humiliation. They all laughed and made fun of me and my "cute little wee-wee". And they refused, despite my pleading to release me.

After enough of this degradation I told them to "Fuck off". Carole was suddenly in my face. "What did you say little boy?"

"I said fuck off!".

"Say you're sorry, little boy. Or Else!"

"Or else what fuck-head?!" Heh, how much worse could it get, right?

"Spank him!" said Cindy, excitedly. "Yeah, spank him" chimed the third girl (whom I didn't know).

A sinister look came across Carole's face. "Does the little boy want a spanking. Over my knee? Huh?"

God, I was in trouble. I started inching away but all three girls quickly surrounded me.

"Tell me you're sorry, little boy with the little wee-wee."

My head was swimming. Where were those assholes that left me here for this. "I ... I'm sorry".

"Not good enough. Say Michael is a little faggot."

Bullshit. This was going too far.

"Say it. Michael is a little faggot."

"Kiss Mine!" I sneered.

Giggles. Old memories of the tent came swirling back.

"Let's spank him" said Cindy again.

"Get his arms," Carole ordered. I fought my best, bust there were three of them and before I knew it I was dragged across the bed. Carole was sitting on the edge and I was laid across her lap. My penis slid between her legs, halfway from her crotch to her knees.

"Oh, is the little boy sorry now" Carole jeered. Her hand played with my butt. One finger nail running up and down my crack. And then a little light rub around my anus.

"Please ..." I stammered. But the events were overtaking me. And to my dismay I felt that old familiar feeling welling up inside me. That tickle I get in the belly ... just before I get hard.

SMACK! It took me by surprise and it stung. Carole was not fooling around.

"Please" I said again. The girls were all jeering at me and I don't know if it was the touch, the body heat, the situation or what, but I was hard now. And Carole knew it, though none of the girls could see it.

"Ooh, you dirty boy", Carole snickered.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! the hits were coming in waves, urged on by the other two girls. I fought back tears of shame and Carole showed no mercy. And I got harder ... and harder, and then without warning I came all over the inside of her legs. She felt it immediately, and pushed me off of her. As I lay there panting she felt her legs.

"The little shit came on my legs!" she shouted to the other girls. All eyes stared at my still throbbing erection. The last few droplets still oozing out.

As Carole wiped herself with tissue the other girls crowded around to get a look.

"He did come" Cindy announced.

"A lot" said the other girl.

I sat there in shame. Pissed at the guys. Pissed at the girls, ashamed of my lack of control. It was worse than that time in the tent.

"Please don't tell anyone", I pleaded.

"We won't" Carole started, "if you do it again."

"Huh?"

"Do it again. Squirt your stuff. Only we want to see it this time".

Right. Just like that. Uh huh. Sure.

"I can't" I said.

"If you don't we'll tell everyone at school. If you do, we'll cut you loose".

Cindy's curiosity got the better of her. She grabbed my dick and said "Does the little wee-wee need a little help?"

I tried to roll over but they would have none of that. Three sets of hands started pulling, stroking, touching me ... there.

I was starting to respond. I felt myself harden quickly and the pulse quicken again. The girls were alternately silent, giggling, or jeering at me.

The third girl made a little spit and started working the head. Man it felt good and dirty at the same time. I was starting to get into it and could feel I was reaching the boiling point again. And I decided to push it.

"I can come faster with more stimulation." I said.

"What do you mean?" Carole asked.

"Visual. I can't come twice without visual stimulation"

"Like what?"

"You know".

"What?"

"Maybe if I can see someone's tits."

They gasped at the thought of it, but Cindy I could tell was turned on by the idea.

"Okay, but you gotta come if I do."

"I will. I promise". Oh boy, do I promise. Only please stop stroking me or I'll come right now. .... Ooh hold out, yeah ... Cindy pulled her blouse over her head, reached behind herself and freed her bra. And those lovely ... too lovely to describe melons came to view. About 4 feet from my face!

And the girls continued to work my member, and I was real close.

"Let me feel them" I begged.

Cindy squatted over me ... ah what a view and pushed her big beautiful breasts into my face and started rubbing them against me.

"I ... I'm gonna ...." I started.

The girls jumped off me in time to see my orgasm. Gobs and gobs and gobs hurled through the air and covered my chest.

"Ish" one of them said (a familiar cry I guess) but they were visibly excited and watched as I lay, trying to catch my breath, they breathing fast as well.

The sound of bikes coming up the driveway broke the spell.

"SHIT! DIETER" we all said. Carole quickly rubbed my chest with a towel and the girls raced out the back door leaving me there, still tied up.

I heard the screen door bang as Larry and Dieter loudly re-entered.

"Look at that. Just like we left him" Larry sneered.

Well, not quite, but who was telling ... not me.

Well, they eventually freed me after still more teasing. I never told them of what transpired that night. And the girls ... I was never sure. They would bring it up from time to time, and I swear their girlfriends were all starting to look at me funny when I would see them but no one ever confronted me with it so maybe not. I think it stayed a pretty close secret. Ah, the glory of youth.

Volume IV

By the time my fourteenth birthday came along, I was pre-occupied with sex. After being "awakened" by those girls in the tent (see volume II), having experienced my first group jerk-off, and that time I was humiliated by my friend's older sister (see Volume III) I was absorbed in it. All day long it seemed I was getting hard with every change of the wind. And the thoughts ... Man, I was, well, horny. I began looking at girls in a way I hadn't before. I imagined them with their clothes off and wondered how many of them knew about my two escapades at the hands of those kinky girls. At night I would masturbate, re-living those times and embellishing them. New girls would take their place, and new adventures.

I was also becoming aware of something else. That group jerk-off at Larry's was more thrilling than I would ever admit to anyone else. Seeing those other boys hard for the first time was arousing in itself. I was left to wonder ... was I the only boy in the group who was getting turned on watching the others "do it". It was a silly game of "dare" at the time but were the others secretly "into it" the way I was. And I was aware of strange "feelings" towards other classmates as well. Like John for instance. He was my age, in a few of my classes, and played on the eighth grade soccer team with me. He had dirty-blondish hair, a smooth "swimmers" build, and there was something about the way he filled his shorts. He always wore tight shorts that accented his tush, and I would find myself glancing his way all the time. I wanted to feel that butt of his, and see his penis hard. I would time my trip to the showers after practice so I could see him naked, and when he toweled himself off ... I imagined it was my hands. These thoughts scared me. I wasn't gay, was I? I couldn't be. I loved to look at the Playboys and naked girls, and they aroused me, but ... so did this. This was a confusing time in my life, and in my adult years I would learn about bisexuality - that there were those attracted to both sexes. As an adult I would eventually choose the path of heterosexuality, and have stayed on that course (although quite a kinky hetero path it would be), but in these middle teen years I would explore these new feelings.

Oh, but getting back to John. Those adult stories come in later volumes. I wanted so badly to get close to John. My first schoolboy crush. But John was best friends with Jim. And Jim was everything I wasn't. While I was shy, Jim was outgoing, a natural leader type. I was an okay athlete, Jim was the best (captain of the soccer team). Jim and John did everything together, they had been best friends since the first grade, as the story went. While I had gone through the public school system, they had been in Catholic schools together until the eighth grade, when their parents enrolled them into the public junior high (grades 7-9). How I envied Jim's close relationship with John. Other boys would kid around sometimes that Jim and John were "Too close", and I snickered with the rest, but jealousy was the emotion of the day.

Throughout that school year I tried to hang around with their crowd and got to know most of their friends. There was about six of us that would play field hockey after school, in a lot back behind Jim's house. Jim and John were always on the same team and sometimes I would get to be on their team, sometimes not.

The summer after eighth grade represented my "break". Jim's parents decided to send Jim away somewhere for the entire summer. I got to know John real well that summer. We would meet in the afternoon at the park programs and hang out together. I would be around him all day, longing to .. well ... be closer. It was hell and heaven at the same time.

We would talk about many things but as the summer wore on I would gradually bring up sex in the conversation. And I wasn't at all disappointed. John liked the subject as much as me. Sometimes we would get together in a treehouse he had in his back yard and look at his stack of Playboys. I would get hard of course and so would he. I would take quick looks at his crotch and see the bulge, and make no attempt to hide mine. We would brag about the things we would do with those girls if we had them but we both knew the other had no girlfriend. Actually, in those days, 14 year olds generally still were not hanging around or "messing" with girls, but my entire generation grew up fantasizing with Playboys. I never told him of my previous escapades, at the hands of those girls, nor would I dare tell him I was jerking off.

More and more days would finds us up there, studying the pictures, reading the stories and getting aroused, without progressing any farther. I desperately wanted it to go farther, but apart from being shy I couldn't bring myself to take the first step. Alas, John was the one who broke the ice.

It was one very hot afternoon in the treehouse. We were in shorts only, having dispensed with shirts, socks, and shoes due to extreme heat and humidity. By this time we had both become accustomed to sporting our hard-ons to each other, without either of us ever acknowledging it. John was looking at my crotch, no, he was staring at my crotch. We were both slippery with sweat, his hairless chest gleaming from the perspiration.

"Do you ever beat off?" he asked sheepishly, his 14 year old voice cracking.

"No", I lied, after thinking for a moment how to respond. "Do you?".

"No", he said quickly, disappointment on his face, "I was just wondering, that's all." He was lying too.

Fuck. I had blown it. This was my chance. I should have seized the moment. Now I would have to try an recover. With a burst of sudden boldness (for me, anyway) I expelled, " I wonder what it feels like."

John breathed in a slow breath. "I heard it feels real good. You know, almost like fucking."

"Maybe" I admitted.

There was an excruciating pause. And John again broke the ice. "You wanna try it?". His face was flushed. I think both of us could feel our pulses rushing. "You know, together. At the same time", he went on. "I will if you will" he encouraged.

"Well...", I began with a slight hesitation, "what if we get caught?".

"Hell, no one can get up here. We've already pulled up the ladder. We can be real quiet. Besides", he said, his voice deepening, "we are both hard already aren't we?".

Ah, finally acknowledged. And just what I had wanted for some time. Come on Michael, get your courage up, take the plunge. DO IT a voice inside me was shouting!

"Okay, if you promise not to tell anyone". The die was cast.

John was already rubbing the front of his shorts, and I began as well. Silently we both tugged at the top of our shorts, each of us trying to let the other go first and knowing the other was doing the same.

"Okay. Let's both pull our shorts off at the same time, okay?" John commanded, "OKAY?", he said again waking me from my trance.

"Okay".

"ON three then. One .. two .. three", and we both slowly pulled down our shorts, mirroring each other moves, both of us with our eyes riveted on the other's underpants. I could almost see his beautiful penis move inside his underwear. By the bulge it was about the same as mine. "Now the rest", John was anxious to get to it. "One ... two ... three", and down cames the underpants, down to our ankles in a heap with the shorts. John lifted his leg and kicked them off. I slid my off my ankles and set them aside.

My penis stood at attention, as did his. Pointing to my navel. We were both circumsized, as was the custom of that era. Already, a drop of pre-cum was forming at the tip of mine. John started to "pull" on his and I slowly grasped mine. We were silent, except for the breathing, which got heavier for both of us.

"I'm getting close", John whispered.

"Me too". It was true. I was almost there. I was halfway holding back, to let him go first, but in another moment I would be out of control.

"Argh" he gurgled as his ejaculation came first. His penis seemed to shudder as gobs and gobs of goo spurted all over his chest, almost to his neck. I soon followed, gasping as well, matching him spurt for spurt. It was glorious, it was everything I had dreamt it would be. It was ... messy. John lay back, almost aglow. "Man, that was cool" he crowed.

My breath was slowly coming back. "Yeah, neat".

Both of us slowly pulled gently, as our erections subsided.

"Let's clean up" John finally said and he produced some paper towels from a corner. We dabbed, and so forth, giggling as we watched the tissue stick to our members, and tear, and compound the cleanup job. Eventully the job was done and our clothes back on.

With the ice finally broken, we would repeat this ritual for the next couple weeks, never venturing further than we had gone, although we would progress to silly games of "who could cum first", or "who could shoot the farthest". Two lads growing up together.

We would eventually go the next step. It happened at his initiation of course. That's was the way it would always be. It was one of the last weekends before going back to school for the start of the ninth grade. I was sleeping over at his house for the first time. John had his own room in the basement, and after a rousing night of horror movies, popcorn, board games and general tom-foolery we were at last behind the closed door of his bedroom and preparing for bed. We both stripped naked to put on our pajamas. Though not hard, the "tent" in his trousers was intriguing, and I suppose mine was as well. Neither of us brought up the subject of "beating off", perhaps intimidated by the other family members in the house, even though behind a closed (but not locked) door. Though I had brought a sleeping bag along, John invited me to share his bed (which wasn't large), I of course accepted after putting up token resistance.

We talked into the wee hours of the night, mostly about sex as usual, wondering about what it would be like to do this, and would you do that, and so forth. Eventually John nodded off to sleep.

I lay there awake for sometime. Lying still, listening to his breathing .. Hard as a rock. At times I could fell his body brush mine and for the first time I could feel his cute little boyish butt against mine.

As I lay still I could feel him rustling. I though for a moment he might be playing with himself.

"Mike," he whispered, "are you awake?".

I lay quiet although I don't know why. I was wondering if he would continue to play with himself, as it would turn me on to lay quietly and listen to him.

He prodded me gently as I ignored him again. Satisfied he went back to what he was doing. Though my eye were closed I could tell now in fact that he was stroking himself.

But he stopped, without the customary gasping. Then he rolled over towards me. I could feel him begin to press up against me. His chest on my back, his crotch against my buttocks ... his penis against my crack. As I lay on my left side he lay there, not moving, his manhood separated from me only by two sets of thin pajama bottoms.

I was excited, but decided to play out this game with a wait-and-see attitude. My own member was at full staff, crowding the material of my pajamas, my heart racing.

I almost jumped, but didn't when I felt John's hand on my leg. It drifted up to my thighs and came to rest just inside my leg, and just below my groin. I could hear him breathing faster as his hand went exploring further, slowly getting braver. It was now lightly resting between both my thighs.

"Mike" he whispered again, somewhat apprehensively, and with that certain aroused tone. I didn't answer. This was getting better all the time. How far would he go? If I "woke" up now would he panic or lose his nerve. No, don't take the chance, enjoy it while you got it, Mike.

The hand was again creeping. It was on the front of my pajamas. He gasped almost inaudibly when he felt my throbbing member. We had jerked off together for some time now but this was the first time one of us had been so emboldened as to touch the other, although it be through pajamas. I knew it wouldn't end here and it didn't. The hand gently felt my hardness through the pj's, a tug here, a pull there, savoring the moment. His own manhood pressed tighter against me. He pulled off momentarily and I could feel his free hand free his cock from his own bottoms and once again lay it to rest in my crevice. Again his other hand when to work on my pj clad penis. As his hand stoked me, he got bolder still, unsnapping the button and reaching inside the fly portion. It was skin on skin now as his hand, tantalized me, working the bottom, the then the head, inside my pajamas. His own member was now moving against the fabric behind me, his breathing became deep. I was attempting to hold my own breath, what was left of it, becoming more and more aroused. I could feel a little bit of pre-cum moisten his fingers, exciting him further. In back, my pj's felt moist, both from the sweat of his body and his own pre-jism.

The game continued, him altering his attentions between his hand on my dick and his own pending orgasm. I came first, filling the front of my pajamas with my boy-juice his hand twitching out every last drop. I tried to hold it in but I was obviously panting. When at last the orgasm subsided he lay still against me, myself still pretending to be asleep.

"Are you awake" he asked gently again, testing me. Still I did not answer. Reassured he began in earnest again on my backside, and I could feel his breath on my neck. Even the hair on his head was wet now and everywhere we touched was moistness. His pace quickened and with a grunt he exploded, sending burst after burst against me, drenching my pajama bottoms in the back with hot sticky cum. As we lay there, me dripping in cum, him resting against me our bodies slowly relaxed. My own member, having cum only moments before was not again at half mast, with his hand around it again, gingerly squeezing it, the experienced hand knows when a prick is super sensitive. Still he pressed against me from behind although his own hips were still.

"Did that feel good?" he whispered. I ignored him. His hand squeezed me more roughly between my legs. "Come on. I know you're awake. Did that feel good?" he persisted.

Okay. Reality check. What were my options. Did he know, or just suspect?

"Ouch" I heard myself say as he squeezed harder.

He giggled lightly. "I knew you were awake. Why were you pretending?" he queried with amusement.

The jig was up but I didn't know what to say. There I lay in soggy pajamas, front and back, cum now dripping down my legs, in all my glory . and speechless.

"Say something. Are you mad? Don't you want to clean up or something?" he continued after a while.

I wasn't mad, in fact I was hard as a rock again, and actually that squishy feeling was kind of neat but I didn't want to say that.

"No, I'm not mad. You got a towel" I spoke.

"Yeah, just a minute", he slid out of bed and retrieved a small towel from a nearby chest of drawers. As he handed it to me he pulled back the sheets and shined a flashlight on me. "God, you're soaked!" he exclaimed. "Why'd you let me come all over you. Why were you faking it?"

I must have been red as a beet as I lay there, spotlight on my privates, toweling myself. I got out of bed, removed my bottoms and put back on my underpants, my erection prominently displayed.

"I don't know" was all I said.

"Gee, you're still hard. You're really turned on aren't you?"

"I don't know", I didn't want to admit it.

"What did it feel like when I was rubbing against you?" he wanted to know. His own penis was now rising again as he stood by the bed.

"I don't know. It was okay". It was GREAT!

"If you want, you can do it to me", he went on.

"Do what?"

"You know. Rub it against me. Like I did too you. Only I don't want you to cum in my pjs."

He was stroking himself, and was now at full mast, a little red perhaps, but ready. Myself, well I always wanted to feel that sweet little ass of his and here was my chance. "What if somebody comes downstairs?" I played hard to get.

"SHIT man. It's 3 a.m. everybody's sleeping UPSTAIRS" he said incredulously. "Do you want to do it or don't you?", has asked with a last chance kinds of voice, and he added, "God, I think I'm gonna cum again", as he stroked himself.

"Okay. Yeah. How do we do it."

He took off the top of his pj's, and naked, slipped in beside me. Rolling over of his stomach he aid over his shoulder, "Get on top of me."

He handed me the flashlight and I turned it on him. There he lay on his belly, legs spread-eagled, boths arms under his body, in his crotch, his ass a little raised by the hands underneath, inviting me. His little anus shining under the light as if to say "fuck me".

I was not so brave that night as to try penetration. Neither was he. But removing my underwear, I lay over him, my penis pressed against the crack of his but the way he had done and began rhythmically rock my hardness there. Clumsily he stroked himself underneath, pushing himself up against me to enable him to stroke underneath. I imagined the real thing my dick sliding into his glory hole, my breath again becoming short. "Oh man, I'm getting close", I whispered. "Me too" he replied. Encouraged I sped up the pace and could feel that all too familiar feeling in my soul. "Here it comes!" I announced and moments later I squirted my second orgasm of the night. I kept pumping, feeling my wetness shower his bottom, panting like a dog in heat, my eyes becoming glassy. His hands had stopped when I erupted, presumably to maximize his own enjoyment of my orgasm.

We lay still, my body fluids, dripping down the crack. My body felt like jello after the most intense orgasm I had ever felt.

"Mike?" John asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Now will you do me?"

I paused to reflect.

"You don't have to or anything, but I did you. You know, a hand job?"

He had pulled out from under me and was laying on his back. It was now my turn to shine the light on his prick. So hard, so inviting.

"Okay", there was no more hiding my intentions.

"Thanks. It won't take long" he promised.

I kept the light on as I silently grasped his throbbing member. I had never felt another penis before. The hardness excited me, and as each drop of pre-cum appeared I felt a new rush of excitement. It didn't take along. Ten or eleven strokes and he announced "I'm gonna CUM!" and he ejaculated into the palm of my hand. Though the orgasm seemed intense to him, this time his ejaculation oozed out rather than the large streams I had seen him spurt during out jack off sessions. Still, it was exciting and I can vividly recall that scene after 24 years as if it were just yesterday, just as I can recall my own first ejaculation the previous summer in that tent.

I wiped my hand and he wiped himself. We lay under the sheets, both on our backs the rest of the night, in awe of what we had done I think, and afraid, both of us of what we had done. The next morning, and next few days neither of us acknowledged that night. A couple weeks later, Jim was back from vacation. Jim and John were again a team and we all went back to school. Although there would be other bi experiences as well as many sexual escapades with girls in the next few teen years I never again did anything with John. Throughout the ninth grade I wondered if Jim and John were doing the things we did, and in fact began to wonder if they had before that summer. Was I a "fill in"? Eventually I out-grew or overcame that "crush" and life went on. Rumors would persist throughout the ninth grade that Jim and John were gay, and they would continue to persist about Jim all through high school, but in the 10th grade John started dating a very pretty girl that he continued to date all through high school. I saw John last at the ten year high school re-union, he had married that girl and fathered eight children (Man he liked to fuck around, that boy!).

Volume V

Despite my escapades at the ages of 13 and 14, the ninth grade passed pretty much uneventfully. Wet dreams became a thing of the past, primarily I suppose because of daily masturbation. My fantasies shifted from one girl classmate to the next. Although at times I wondered what my (male) buddies were like under their clothes, this did not pre-occupy me the way girls did, and I yearned to repeat the experiences, such as the one in the tent (see Volume II).

The most erotic recollection I have of the ninth grade was the swimming classes taken as part of physical education. Kids today can't believe when my generation talks about the nude swimming in SCHOOL. This was the way it was done in those days. Of course the classes were segregated, but for 3 weeks, every ninth grade boy in the school district had swimming. Apparently for the purposes of hygiene, suits were not provided nor allowed. I can remember waiting, packed into a narrow hallway leading from the locker room to the pool, as many as thirty boys, naked, close, ... everyone trying not to brush against each other in the tight quarters for fear of ... you know, Jeez, what if I get hard. One could almost feel the sexual tension in that hall, I am sure we were all thinking the same and trying to think about baseball, or homework or what ever as we stared at the naked butts in front of us and felt the breath of naked boys behind us. On occasion a lad would start to rise, and awkwardly attempt to turn in such a way as to hide it. Surprisingly, no one ever said a word when this happened, we would cast our eyes other directions, affording the poor soul the privacy he desired. I guess we were all worried we might be the next. Eventually, the door would open and we all would hurriedly dash into the water, diving in even as our instructors told us to wait. I retrospect, I think hygiene was only part of the reasons swimming was taught this way. I believe this was meant as it happened - to accustom us young men to seeing nudity in a non-sexual setting, to satisfy curiosities or something. Of course, we all plotted as to how we could sneak out of our regular classes and steal into the pool undetected to spy when it was the girls turn. A few boys would claim they accomplished this but I doubt that it was ever really done. And one could conjure up the image of the girls, naked and pressed together in a similar hallway as what we used. Ahh ... but for one chance to look in there.

But that was it for the ninth grade. Still shy, time would rush by and soon I was a fifteen year old sophomore, and starting high school. Through high school I would gradually overcome my shyness. Sports fame, which had eluded me in junior high would find me at age 15. It was at this age that I blossomed in my other main sport: ice hockey. I was ... well I was a terrific ice hockey player. I played wing, and as a tenth grader, I was one of two from that class that made the varsity hockey team. I was perhaps the fastest skater on the team already and would be the fastest by far by my senior season. The nickname "Flash" would become attached to myself by my friends and teammates. No, it wasn't because I liked to expose myself -). This new-found fame afforded me the attentions of several girls, some of whom would openly flirt with me, and I was starting to get invited to the parties that the "hip" kids went to. Though I never really "dated" in the tenth grade, I frequently ran around town with a small group of kids, boys and girls, and from time to time would find myself alone with some young lovely, especially Robin. Robin was a flaming redhead, with cute red freckles (which she hated). Her voice was the deepest of any girl I had ever known, sounding much like a boy whose voice was in the process of change. She was slightly tall for a girl, and since I was little on the short side, she had me by about an inch. Ah, she truly was beautiful, and I worshiped her. Better still, she seemed interested in me. She laughed at all of my (pathetic) jokes and as I would steal glances at her during the school day I would see her quickly casting her eyes away from me. I think we both had a crush on each other, me shy, her shy and ... after all a girl just didn't make the first move in those days. I longed to ask her out, but my low self esteem had me convinced she would say no and I would be devastated. So I "hung" around her and she around me for quite some time before thinks finally got cooking.

The first time was ... gosh, how shall I put it. Erie? The spring of my sophomore year a group of us started hanging out late at night. After our parents were asleep, we would sneak out of our houses, and meet at a local cemetery. None of us old enough to drive, we would bike or walk separately, and congregate there as a meeting place. For me, this was only about six blocks. Some of the kids, including Robin had to get there from a mile away or further. The police were pretty strict about curfews in those days (unlike today) and so there was an extra element of risk. (Yeah, you're right, It WOULD have been worse to have gotten caught by our parents).

I had played in this graveyard many nights, since seventh grade. There would be games of kick the can, tag, etc. But as a group of mixed gender adolescents gathered this spring the games ... ah, the games.

They started out innocently enough. Hide and Seek, Tag. Then there was a little football. TACKLE football. CO-ED tackle football. Though the games never got rough, we gave the ball to the girls as often as we could, and would all pull her down in a gang, innocently "copping" a feel where we could. The girls seemed to love it, squealing when we "accidentally" touched, radiantly asking for more ... and more. I was hard half the tie during those games, I suppose we all were. And Robin liked this game as much as any, and when I would tackle her and out bodies were pressed together, and I would look in her eyes ... was it my imagination, or was she looking at me as longingly as my eyes searched her?

This became a Friday and Saturday night ritual as the weather warmed. And I became more and more enchanted with this red-headed girl with the sexy voice. When tired of football, we would lay about, moist from the effort, a musky adolescent odor in the still night air. When I would go home those nights I would remember the smell. And I would imagine Robin, laying in bed, moist from the efforts. I would picture myself laying next to her, smelling her ... touching her. I tried to envision what lay underneath her clothes ... her damp panties. What color was her pubic hair, was it red? He supple breasts against me as I felt her bush, warm, wet, inviting. Or of her in the shower, the drops of water dancing on her inviting breasts. And of course as I lay at night with these images my hand would do the work of my imagination, leaving me with some relief, but more anticipation.

One night, after a round of football, the talk became randy. A deck of cards was produced and strip poker was suggested. The girls all feigned reluctance but they wanted to as much as we did. The game was a blur, I could hardly keep my eyes off of Robin. There were six in the party that night but my eyes were glued on Robin. She seemed fixated on me as well, or maybe it was just because I was looking at her so much. I was hard before a hand was dealt. I don't know how the long the game took. I don't remember who was out first or second. When the other boys were stripped, they would quickly lay on their stomaches, so as to hide their enormous erections. The girls would jeer them about this but they brushed it off. The girls did much the same thing as they were eliminated. Somehow the game got down to just me and Robin left. She had her bra and panties, I was down to my jockey shorts, which barely covered my you know what.

My penis rebelled against the fabric, trying to push its way out to Robin. The elastic waistband was about a half inch from my belly, the tip of my penis straining to get out, moist at the tip. I took deep breaths and sat straight up, Indian style, rather than hiding it as the others did. It seemed that all five were staring at my crotch, I didn't care. Somehow I wanted to expose myself to Robin, to say "hear I am, take me" and this was my way of doing it.

I lost the last hand. And with all eyes on me I reached down, and slowly, sensuously, pulled down, and off my underpants. I though I detected a shiver of excitement in Robin, and I felt pride through my blushing as I sat there, exposed, for all to see. My member bobbed appreciatingly under the gaze of the three girls and the boys laughed at my brazenness.

"Okay, that's enough. Let's get dressed and play again" one of the guys suggested, finally. Silently I pulled up my jockeys. I almost "came" from the touch of the cotton when it pressed back into my member under Robin's watchful eyes. But the hour was late and the second game never commenced. Not that night -).

When the nights festivities were done, we prepared to go our separate ways. Robin and I were the last to start out. She had walked (about a mile) to get there, and though she had done this before, tonight she expressed a strange fear, and would I walk her home. YES!

I held her hand all the way. We talked about the night, the game. We stopped at a small park that was along the way and found a secluded spot to sit and rest.

With my arm around her we sat quietly, absorbing the moonlight and the shadows that danced before us. She laid her head on my shoulder. I was in heaven. I touched her neck with my hand, I smelled her. Ummmmmmmmm

She looked up at me ... and Michael ... sweet shy little Michael, got his first kiss. Her soft lips and mine played sweet melody. It was almost too much. I rolled against her on the bench, her body under mine, my hardness against her, separated only by two layers of clothing. She felt it too. Her breath was becoming labored, as was mine. The butterflies were there in the pit of my stomach. Finally she broke off the kiss. I pressed my cheek against hers and we straightened up. Her hand rested on my thigh.

"You have a beautiful penis", she whispered softly. I was a little taken aback, but flattered.

"Thank you," it sounded so silly coming out of my throat. "I was a little embarrassed. I was hoping to see you though ". Shit! Did I say that? What an idiot.

"Maybe you still can ... but not tonight. It's getting cold" she replied. It was more than I could hope for. I held her closer and now rested my hand on her leg. Gingerly, I slid it up to her thigh.

She sighed, and tensed momentarily. Then she relaxed again, as if to say "I'm ready for the next move". I inched my hand up another inch.

Almost immediately I felt her hand crawl further, to the inside of my own thigh. I debated going further. She did say I could see her another time, don't blow it tonight. Aw, but my body continued to betray me. I think I almost shuddered, thinking about where her hand and mine were.

As if reading my mind, her hand resumed. She gently placed it directly on my crotch, lightly touching my erection through my pants. Now it was my turn to sigh. Next, she took her other hand and moved my hand from inside her thigh to the center of her own crotch, inviting me further.

I needed no additional encouragement and began lightly stroking the front of her slacks. A little bit at a time I applied more more and more pressure until I felt her legs clamp my fist tightly. Even as she did this her own hand was now kneading my throbbing dick through the light material. It was fantastic. We both picked up the pace, and out breathing was starting to become labored. Now my jeans were unsnapped, and I felt her soft hand probing for my zipper. Matching her move I struggled with the button on her slacks, but she stopped me with her free hand. For a moment I thought I had misread her but she continued to touch me in that same glorious fashion. I didn't press the issue. I relaxed my hand and sat as still as I could, but my body was rocking with the motion of her hands. At last she had the zipper down and again her hand went exploring, this time feeling me through just my underwear. I knew I was real close ...

"Robin..." I whispered. I don't know what I was going to say and it didn't matter, ignoring my stammering and accelerating the action below my waist. In moments I heard myself gasp, as the warm wet goo filled my jockey shorts. Panting like a dog I sat there, her hand still in my crotch, but now resting, catching my breath. She was excited too as her own breathing told me. Shortly, we both relaxed. I tried once more to open her own pants, looking to return the favor, but again she softly admonished me, "No, not tonight. But maybe next time".

This was perhaps the highlight of my youth. My first kiss, and my first sexual effort on a more or less equal basis with a member of the opposite sex. I felt so much like a man that night, as we sat arm in arm for another thirty minutes, her head on my shoulder, her hand in my soaked crotch. After a while we continued our journey, and I walked her to her back door. Again she kissed me, even more passionately than the first time, it seemed.

I practically skipped on home that night, and had one of the last wet dreams of my youth reliving that event. And the promise of more to come. And the next weekend would keep that promise. And I would see my first naked girl. But you'll have to read volume VI to hear about that.

Volume VI

I was on cloud nine all week. (See volume V if you want to know why) Robin was in a couple of my classes, and her eyes danced with mine constantly. I had made arrangements to meet her Saturday afternoon at that same park. We were going to make a day of it. My folks were going to be gone that afternoon and early evening. I told her this and it didn't phase her - did she know what I had in mind? (She did). Friday evening I had "family" stuff to do. All evening my mind was on the next day. Saturday seemed like it would never come, but after a nearly sleepless night of anticipation, (and restless wrists), the appointed day and hour arrived. And what a beautiful day it was.

Robin had packed a picnic basket and we spent most of the afternoon frolicking in the park, and the wooded nature preserve that abutted the park. We told each other secrets, and I showed her where my forts had been when I had been small and played in these same trees. Childhood seemed a distant dream now for I was a man. A man with a girl at his side ... albeit a horny young man.

As the afternoon wore on I tried to work the conversation towards returning to "my place" (God does that sound petty, or just stupid). She put off these transparent advances, but still continued to hold me, and touch me, and tease me most of the day. Eventually we started the walk back and I thought we were headed to my house but when we reached the point where we would make the turn we paused, and I sensed hesitation in her.

"Well, do you want to come over for a while?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager, but my voice getting huskier. Lust does that I guess. It was about five o'clock and I figured I'd have the place until seven, maybe seven thirty.

She reflected in her own thoughts for a while, perhaps musing that things were going too fast, that I'd rushed things. I finally was becoming bold with the opposite sex and they were becoming shy?

Finally she offered softly, "How about if we go over to my house instead. It's about the same distance."

Hmmm. She doesn't want to be alone in my house with me.

"Okay." I said. My disappointment must have been obvious.

"I'll show you my room!" she offered, with a certain exuberance.

"Neat" I muttered, still disappointed, but warming up to the idea of being in "that room" where she changed her clothes, where she slept, where she ...

"My folks will be gone too".

Did I just gulp? Must have been someone else. Already the blood was rushing to my extremities.

"Michael!" she started incredulously, "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing". Of course I was. Girls just did this to me. It would haunt me all through high school and into college. I just would never be able to get away with anything, keep anything from them. I think I must have blushed every time I thought about .. well you know, and the girls would always sense this about me, I think. Looking back, I think the girls I knew liked this about me. It probably flattered them more than anything I would ever say - that I could get so flustered just being around them. It was almost as bad as getting hard in front of a girl you hardly knew. But a hard-on could be hidden with a hand in the pocket (and I constantly had my hands in my pockets in those days), but the blushing ...

"You are too. You're blushing."

"No, I am NOT!". Redder by the minute.

"Okay, if you say so", was the condescending reply.

We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time, and when the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her house when she was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first time I was inside, and there I was.

We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small kitchen, and living room off the kitchen.

We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time, and when the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her house when she was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first time I was inside, and there I was.

We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small kitchen, and living room off the kitchen. Three bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall, the typical rambler of the day.

In the kitchen she set down the basket of remains, and plopped herself in a chair.

"Would you like a glass of milk?" she queried.

"Sure".

I think we both felt awkward. She poured us both a glass and we sat at the table. I watched her mouth make love to that glass of milk, and felt myself becoming aroused.

"Do you want to listen to some music?" she volunteered, "I have a record player in my room".

"Yeah" I croaked. Must be something in my throat again.

And so we headed down the hallway and into the room of forbidden passion - oops, there goes my imagination again.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Do you have any Beatles?"

"Yes! I think Ringo is so adorable!"

"If you say so", and if you like a guy that looks like he has a broken nose, I thought to myself.

"Oh, I think you're adorable too, Mike", she giggled as if to reassure me. And of course I blushed again and of course she giggled again. God she loved doing that to me ... but she could do anything to me, I was hopeless. There I was, probably looking like a stupid, syrupy love-sick calf and this woman-child, radiantly red, freckles gleaming needed just glance my way and the color of my skin would turn, and the old familiar stirrings in my loin would commence.

"I, I think you're real pretty too," I stammered.

"Mike. You're so cute. And so shy sometimes. And so smart. I, I..." she trailed off. What was she trying to say.

I moved closer. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her hand patted the spot next to her. "Sit down" she invited.

I slid in next to here. Instinctively, we both slid close, touching the outside of our thighs together. Her shorts seemed to creep up her leg when we sat, my cutoffs attempting the same. Sensing my hesitation, Robin again made the first move, her hand on my leg, her head on my shoulder.

My one arm was now around her shoulder. My free hand on her thigh. We both shuddered at what we knew was coming.

"You looked so sexy last week. You know, when you lost that hand", she whispered, sexily.

"Hmmmmm", I said.

"I don't know it I could have done that. You know? I don't know if I would have taken off my panties like you did."

I was hard as a rock and she was stroking me.

"It was all right. I was a little embarrassed." I admitted. My hand had found the front of her blouse and I was feeling her breasts. She made no objection, even shifting her position to give me better access. Why didn't I think of this the last time?

"And in the park. Did you, I mean. Did you come in your underwear?"

More blushing, but who cared at this point.

"Yes" I squeaked. How could I deny that?

She giggled slightly. "Did I do that?"

"What?!?". My head was swimming. I was becoming confused. What was she talking about. Oh yeah. I came in my pants. I'm about to do it again. God that feels good. But how about if...

And on cue, her hand slipped inside the waist of my shorts, and underwear and curled around the head of my penis ...

"ARGH" I gurgled. It was too much. The moment she touched my privates I erupted, spilling my seed once more into my underwear, her hand, gobs and gobs. It seemed to last forever and my hips bucked from the explosion. She never let go, squeezing each drop out of my maleness, relishing each drop, as I soaked myself. At last, sensing my discomfort (as like most guys I get REAL sensitive right after I come), she relaxed her grip, not letting go, but no longer applying pressure. When I had caught my breath (and hers too, she was as excited as I was), she began nibbling on my ear.

"Did that feel could?" she asked coyly.

"Yes. It was .. it felt real good."

"You're a mess." She stated it succinctly. She was correct. I was a glorious mess. "Do you want to clean up?"

Yes and No. I was a little embarrassed, but her hand felt so good resting there, as I softened briefly. She giggled that little half-giggle again, and pulled out her hand, "I think you should clean up."

"Yeah, I'd better" I said sheepishly. There would be many more times girls would make me cream my pants in the next few months, and I think they did it on purpose. But I never complained. And that night, things were just warming up.

I slid off the bed and looked around. Should I just clean up there? I would feel so silly. "Um, is there a bathroom?" What an idiot. Of course there is a bathroom.

"Right down the hall".

I hesitated. She said nothing. "Um, I'll be right back?" I said it as if it was a question. I mean, was I supposed to come back, or were we through?

"Okay!" she chirped merrily. That made me feel good. This was going to be all right. Still sheepish, I found my way down to the tiny little bathroom, two doors down from her room. I closed the door quietly and locked it (was that really necessary?). My mind was playing games with me now. What was proper? Silently, I dropped my pants, and using a small hand towel that was hanging there I dabbed at myself. I did the best I could, but damp pubic hair needs to dry on its own, and as for my underwear ... well, it was all soaked (of course) but I made the attempt at rubbing the towel and underwear together. Flustered, I remove my underwear altogether and set it on the back of the toilet, pondering my options. My cut-off shorts themselves were pretty dry, so decision made, I pulled them up sans underwear and headed back down the hall, making a note to retrieve my underwear later, when it had dried up some.

Advancing down down the hallway I imagined what was waiting for me. Perhaps she would be dressed in some sexy nightie, or maybe even naked. Right. This was the real world and she was sitting where I had left her, patiently waiting, only seeing her there as I came in from the hall for the first time I saw that her face was as flushed as mine.

"All done?" he quipped. Jeez I wish she would just drop the subject. I came in my pants. I knew that. She knew that, it's done. Let's forget about that and go on shall we?

I ignored her question (a first for me), and struggled for something to say. I stood by the record player and fumbled with the records. Now what should I say?

"I heard it takes a boy a while to get hard again," she began, "is that true?" her interest seemed genuine but this was a subject I was not comfortable with. I shrugged. I was getting to half mast maybe already at that point (Ah for the refractory period of my teen years!).

"Mike..."

"Hmmmm"

"Last weekend. What would you have done? If I had lost instead of you. Would you, I mean, would that, ... you know ..."

No. I didn't know. What was this now.

"What?" I asked.

"I mean. Would you have made me take them off?"

Dead silence for a moment. How was I supposed to answer that.

"Well... it wasn't up to me, the others would have insisted."

"Yes ... but what about you. If I had said no would you have been like the others?"

Gads, girls are hard to figure out. Even beautiful sweet Robin.

"I don't know." Play it safe. "Why, weren't you going to do it?"

"I'm not sure. I ... I have never shown myself to a boy that way before".

"Well, neither had I. I mean I never showed myself to a girl before."

Giggles. Do all girls do that when they're having .. I mean when we are .. what are we doing anyway?

"Mike ... Have you ever seen a girl naked before?" she rasped. Her voice deepened, even for her. She was getting turned on. I was getting turned on, again.

Another trick question. Men are supposed to be experienced, right?

"Sort of". Play it safe again.

"Playing strip poker, spin the bottle, or what?"

She was to curious.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Mike. You were the first boy I've ever seen. I mean... that way. And the first boy that well, that ... um ... you know."

That came in his pants?

"Well," I started, it was now or never, " I really wanted to see you that night. That way, I mean". Boy was I a silver-tongued devil or what?

"If it had been just you I might have done it" she announced. Now there was an invitation. And I was flattered ... and hot.

"Mike ... would you like to see me ... naked?"

I had died and gone to heaven for the second time in a week. It was going to happen. Oh lord, remind me to go to church on Sunday to say thank you ... or confess my sins ... or ...

Earth to Mike, Earth to Mike. Are you there? My brain and overworked sex organ woke me out of this stupor.

"Yes", I could barely speak.

Without a word, she reached down, grasped her blouse, and pulled it over her head. Smoothly, she reached behind and unclasped her bra. Raising her legs, and hips off the bed, and leaning back slightly, her hands went to the waistband, and slowly, ever so slowly, timidly even, she slid down her shorts and panties.

I gasped. Her mound looked inviting (she did have red pubic hair). Her body trembled, as did mine.

"You too. I want to see you too." she whispered.

Clumsily I pulled off my shirt. My pants were slower to come off as my penis jumped to attention under the cut-offs under her gaze. The head bobbed out and rose before her as I pulled down my shorts, awkwardly balancing on one leg. And there I stood before her. My soul bared, body red with excitement, penis throbbing, pulse racing, heart beating so loud I thought she could hear it.

And there she sat. Flushed with lust herself. Her glorious locks of red hair hanging down both shoulders over her chest. Her breasts heaving under her shortness of breath. Her ... Her pussy .. that sounds so crude .. her ... her ... it seemed to swell and glisten. Even standing here I could see ... I could smell the wetness, her juices lubricating her loins. Her body practically shouting, TAKE ME, but be gentle.

My eyes could hardly focus at this point I was so turned on with sexual excitement. The room seemed to be swirling and it was almost as if I was going to lose my balance. I quickly sat on the bed, lest I should fall.

We embraced. We fell back on the bed. I kissed her lips ... her soft sensuous lips. I nearly came just from this contact. She was on her back, and me on my side. My penis was rubbing against the side of her leg. I moved over on top of her, chest to chest, my organ tickling the inside of her thighs where it hung. Her legs opened themselves up to me. I needed no urging, nor did I ask permission. As I kissed her lips and fondled her nubile young melons, I slid forward, and upward ... and in. She tensed, then made a conscious effort to relax her loins. I thrust once, maybe twice, and like the typical adolescent on his first time ... spasmed beyond control. Hips bucking, voice choking, I came in grunts, like an animal in heat, for what seemed like an eternity. It was if my body had turned itself inside out, repeatedly. I was perspiring everywhere, and so was she, from the intense body heat, from the pleasure, from the raw emotion of two young people, each tasting the forbidden fruit, virginity slipping away in one brief (and I do mean brief) moment.

I brushed the hair from here eyes, trying to remain still, and stay inside her down below. As my fingers delicately brushed her eyes, I felt wetness. But it was not sweat I felt this time. As I brushed the last locks of auburn hair from here eyes I saw the trickle of tears, running down her cheek, as I felt my own juices, running down our legs, still entwined. I kissed her cheeks, reassuringly, but still the water fled from her eyes, seeking comfort in the fibers of the sheets. I was ... confused. The moment had been quick. Probably less than what she had expected. Everyone thinks the first time is something special. Was it my grunting. What changed this from two lustful teenagers (in love?) into something sinful, something shameful. But here eyes said it all without her saying a word. She wept silently, as I hugged her, searching for the right words to say.

"Robin?"

Her eyes were closed, as if shutting the memory.

"Robin?" I pressed. "Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm fine" she said at last but she wasn't.

"What's wrong?" I didn't know how to handle this. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"I don't know" she cried. "Oh Michael. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you" I said reassuringly. "It's okay".

We lay silently. I was confused, as I always seemed to be. Nothing had prepared me for this.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Maybe you had better. Anyway, my folks may be home soon."

With a pause, I collected my things. I carried them out of the room and into the bathroom, suddenly ashamed of my nakedness. Deftly, I dressed, and retreated once more to the door of her room. She had pulled the covers over her and was lying on her side, wistfully looking out over the room, perhaps taking one last look at her childhood memories that adorned the room.

For the first time, I noticed them. The picture of her when she was five and learning to ride a bike. On her fathers shoulders at some family picnic. And so on ...

"You'd better be going" she said.

"Yeah. I guess. See you Monday?"

"Uh huh."

And I turned, and silently traced my steps down the hall, through the living room, the kitchen, saw one last time the picnic basket we had so innocently relished that afternoon, and stepped outside.

There I was enveloped by the still night air, and cloudless sky.

I walked in circles on my way home that night. I alternately felt scared and weak. Would she be remorseful for that night forever and ever. God! What if she was pregnant?! I didn't think to ask her, was it her time of the month? What would I say to here in school on Monday. Could I look her in the face. Would she look at me?

And at the same time I felt the exhilaration of having gained manhood - a virgin no more. Okay, maybe I had come kinda fast (kinda?), but I got the deed done. She wanted it too. How was I supposed to know she would "flip out" afterward?

Another sleepless night would follow and Monday came way too fast. Robin avoided my eyes in school that Monday, and, uncomfortable, I avoided hers. By the end of the week I couldn't stand it, and even our mutual friends sensed there was a problem. We would eventually get together, about a week later, to "talk about it". Robin and I would remain as friends, but as she would declare, "she just wasn't ready for that kind of relationship", but wanted to remain "friends". We dated (if you call it that) for a couple more months and I never again pressed her for sex (well, we kissed). We broke off shortly there after, probably because we never got over the awkwardness of "doing it" and then not doing it. Or something. I don't know. It just didn't work out. Never the less, I still fondly remember Robin as the first true girlfriend of my young life. She did not attend our high school reunions, and I lost complete track of her after graduation. She was quite popular and dated several boys during out junior and senior years, and in fact became a cheerleader. During the hockey games I would sometimes find myself pleasantly distracted on the bench, watching her bounce up and down. And I would see her stealing glances my way as well. In my heart, I believe Robin remembers me as fondly as I do her, was I not, after all, her first "love" as well.

Robin, if you are out there, there is something I really meant to tell you that night ... I loved you.

Volume VII

Grade ten was soon complete and my last summer without a driver's license would take place. This was a fact of life that annoyed many teenagers I suppose. Fifteen was a tough age. I fancied myself a man, and though still pre-occupied with sex, there seemed to be something humiliating about still having to get around by bicycle, or worse, being driven by PARENTS - ack! The P-word! There would be several girls that summer that would get their hands down my pants, and many a night I returned home from that cemetery with soggy pants. But having lost my virginity that previous spring (See volume VI) there seemed no chance of a repeat performance. Somewhat cowed by Robin's reactions that fateful night, I never got "close" to another girl for some time. Oh, there were many romps that summer, and I came close, but the big nasty would not occur again that summer.

My junior year would start out neatly, however. Almost, but not quite sixteen, many of my friends were driving. Those nights in the graveyard would gradually be replaced by nights at the drive-in theaters. As school started in the fall and my birthday approached I had great schemes as to how my life was going to change when I got my license. Already having gained some notice for my ice hockey finesse it seemed more and more girls were interested in shy little ol' me. And I ate it up. And just when I thought I had experienced all life had to offer there came Barb.

Now Barb was a fast girl. She had quite the reputation, and many boys had bragged about getting some from her. This I never quite followed. Barb (nobody called her Barbara) was pretty. A brunette, slim, small but nice breasts. She seemed quiet and unassuming, and she sat next to me in my fourth hour biology class. I had heard the rumors about her but it just didn't seem to fit her - she did not appear at all to me to be that "type" of girl. I don't know, maybe I just liked her or something. And she liked me.

Though I had never exchanged words with her all year to that point, she came up to me after class one day and invited me to her house that Friday night for a party. I was flattered that she had at last noticed me and of course accepted.

Barb lived on the other side of town, however and so it took some arranging. My buddy Al drove and had his own car (rich parents - didn't you just hate kids like that!). Al, myself and two other buddies made our way out to Barb's that night, though some reluctance was expressed by my not too hip pals. Seemed they were not too sure of this "Barb" but I pressed them into it.

I am not sure what I was expecting at Barb's that night but I was surprised by what I did find - or didn't find as the case may be. The place was filled. Tons of kids had shown up - it was virtually a who's who of the school. All the top football players, most of the guys from the soccer team (Jim and John were there) - how come I hadn't been invited to one of these before. There was NO booze. Not an ounce. Zip. This was the cleanest party I had ever attended. Not what I had been led to believe about "fast" Barb.

The night passed uneventfully, I tried but to no avail did I really spend any time alone with Barb, as she was busy playing the perfect hostess. Realizing I had misread (?) her signals, my friends and I left around midnight or so, after graciously thanking her for the invite. Barb tried to talk us (me) into staying, but frankly ... it was boring. Not that I drank (I didn't, I was a goody 2 shoes in fact as were most of my friends in this regard), it was just that nothing happened. I thought.

I was to learn the following week about a rousing game of truth or dare that broke out among the last few to leave that party. Ahh - another opportunity missed, but still I couldn't picture Barb in that game (although I could certainly picture her naked - God there was something about her - or maybe I just got horny any time a girl paid me attention).

I got a second chance with Barb. Would I like to a go to a movie with her - to the drive-in? You see, Barb had her license, being about 3 months older than me. It was late October, so things were cool out; this wasn't the deep south folks!). I said yes.

Friday rolled by and Barb came by to pick me up. My parents were not at all enthused when they saw a girl coming to pick me up for the movies - they were used to me going out with the guys. I think for a fleeting moment they were worried about some young vixen corrupting their little boy - Jeez, were they too late -).

It did feel a little awkward, her in the drivers seat. Once parked, she insisted we both move to the back (no problem). It looked like another typical night of wet, sticky pants was on the way.

Shortly into the movie, Barb made the first move (I must have been the slowest mover in that school - I wonder now, did the girls all talk about us and was that my reputation? Was I a special challenge, or did these girls just like to be in control?). She planted her lips on mine and began deep kissing, french style. And she was good at it, real good. Robin was sweet but Barb, well ... Barb kissed like she was going to suck it out of me. It was ... different. I liked it though, and my body responded as it always did. Barb wasted little time. She placed both of my hands on her chest and I realized for the first time she wasn't wearing a bra. Hmmm. Maybe she was "fast" after all.

I worked those tits from the outside for a while and without needing any urging, soon had my hands underneath her sweater. She would groan and sigh, and these sounds further enticed me. Barb was not shy at this at all. I was beginning to wonder what I had my hands on when I felt her hands on me. All over me. First they were inside my shirt, rubbing me roughly. Then one hand in my crotch. She pressed tightly, squeezing my thing through my pants.

"Do me like I do you" she instructed.

Obligingly, I dropped one hand from her mammaries to the forbidden zone. I could feel the moistness already. She was so wet, the moisture could be felt through her loose fitting slacks. I could feel her panties through the material of her slacks and sought the crack.

"Ummmmmm" she sighed. I think I was touching the right buttons. Without a word, she reached over and unsnapped her own pants, and opened the front, exposing her delicious panties.

I felt my prick jump as I got this new view, and jump again as I felt her unfastening my belt. Delicately now her hands were feeling my underwear. A pull here, a tug there. Just enough to keep the little pre-cum moistening my member, but not enough for me to come - the hands of experience I would later determine.

My own hands went exploring as well. I loved the feel of the lacy panties she wore. And the wetness. It was a virtual flood in that back seat. Emboldened, I worked one finger under the waistband, and then a second. She lifted her hips and sighed, encouraging me further. Another finger, and now all three were in her snatch. I put a finger inside, a second and rotated them for all I was worth.

Her own hands fumbled with my underwear, reaching inside and working the rim, but her touch became erratic. First she had the spot, then she didn't. And then with a quiet scream she dug her fingers hard into me and her body erupted in orgasm. Her body seemed to writhe under my touch and she held be spellbound. Panting like a dog, she gasped for breath and pulled by hand away from her crevice, saying "Stop, that's enough". This event had caught me by surprise. Many a girl I had fondled and surely they must have (some of them) orgasmed too but I had never though about it before. Now Barb, well ... she orgasmed. This was incredibly exciting.

When she had her breath, she leaned over and kissed me again, full on the mouth.

"Relax now" she whispered, and placed my hands at my side.

I left my hands where she had placed them, and now Barb slowly crouched over me in the back seat of this car.

"Raise your hips a little" she ordered.

Doing as I was told, she bent forward more, and slowly pulled down my underwear and pants, down to my knees. Slowly, teasingly she slid her hand up and down my shaft. More pre-cum oozed from the tip, and she would wipe it first on her finger, and then spread it around my phallus.

"Oh God, that feels good", I uttered.

"Hmmmmmmmm" she licked her lips seductively.

And then slowly. Ever so slowly Barb lowered herself so she was king of sitting, or kneeling on the floor, here warm lips hovering over my raging erection.

She licked her lips again and I closed my eyes. Like a cat with a mouse she played with me, initially with the tip of her tongue slowly tantalizing the underside of my member. Then a more forceful swipe all around the head. Her tongue was now swirling around the glans, and one hand stroked the base of my penis while the other cupped my balls.

It was too much.

"Barb. BARB I'M GONNA ...", she worked it furiously, and pulled her lips off only at the last second (like a pro), as I blasted off, jets of jism streaking to all corners of the back seat. She continued to stroke me, wriggling every drop out, ignoring the cum all over her car. I thought she would stop after I came but instead she continued slowly massaging my member, not letting it go soft, but avoiding the really sensitive spots like the head or glans. I laid back, enjoying watching her make love to my penis, itself covered with cum. Then she leaned over and once more took my cum-soaked manhood into her mouth again. Gently, her tongue and lips sucked the sperm from my dick, which was still risen to the occasion. I began to rock with the motion, and soon found myself "fucking" her face, both hands on the back of her head. She was into this in her own little world and there was no stopping her (who would want to). The windows were completely steamed over and it felt like the car was rocking as the assault on my dick continued. When her jaw tired, she would rest briefly, and then start anew. In perhaps fifteen minutes I was there again. This time, without warning I came in her mouth. She didn't stop sucking, opening her lips enough to let air in and some sperm trickle out. I pulled out of her, ending the smorgasbord of delight, exhausted.

After a rest we had more fun and games, I eventually got her pants off and got here off again. We didn't go all the way but we sure petted our way through that movie. She wanted more kissing, but after coming in her mouth I had lost all interest in that. This pissed her off somewhat and perhaps I was selfish - it was something I just couldn't bring myself to do at the time.

We did the drive in two more times and though we never had sex again after that fall, we were friendly towards each other all through high school. I got my own license that winter and, well, once that was done more escapades would follow. I ran into Barb two years after high school. We met at a friends out of town wedding and had one last (adult) rendezvous. Barb was training for the Peace Corps at that time and would eventually ship out to some where in the Carribean. She sent a postcard to our high school ten year re-union. She was married and living in Brazil. Now there must be a story there but I've never heard it.

Volume VIII

It was the winter of my senior year. I was sixteen, almost seventeen. I had grown a lot in the last year, both physically and emotionally. Though still somewhat shy, and normally the last to start a conversation I had put behind most of the awkward traits that had been associated with my earlier years. My self esteem and self image had improved to where I no longer worried about my masculinity or looks. I was in the top ten of my senior class (and it was a large class), a letterman, and known throughout the school. As co-captain of a very successful hockey team, my picture made the local papers and girls noticed me. I was a clean lad - no drugs, didn't drink, but still knew how to have a good time. Though drinking occurred at many of the parties I attended, it was not hard to pass, in fact most kids did. Maybe it was a different era then. Some of the parties were wilder than others, especially when Dieter attended (remember him from volume III?). I was making out regularly in those days with a parade of willing females, some would do more than others.

It was at one of these parties that I first felt an old stirring, one mostly dormant since my encounters with John (volume IV). The party was all older kids, seniors and juniors, save one. This boy was a sophomore, small for his age, not much more than five feet, slim build, dark black hair with that "Italian" look about him. He was trying hard to be "cool" and it wasn't working. I could sense all the insecurities I used to see in myself when I used to try and act "older". A couple of the girls thought he was "cute" but several of the senior boys were on his case from the start. It was common for the seniors to raze the sophomore class and it was rather bold for a sophomore to show at this party.

The party was well into the evening, I was relaxing with my buddies downstairs when the commotion started on the main floor. After a while my friends and I gravitated upstairs to "check it out", as one by one, kids were floating upstairs and not coming back. When I got upstairs there was a lot of jeering going on, and laughing, and carrying on. And I could see why. What a spectacle. The "hip" sophomore was in the center of the room. He was tied to a kitchen chair (dragged into the living room for this purpose I suppose), one foot to each chair leg, his arms over the back of the chair and tied to the spindles. He was blindfolded, gagged, and stripped to his white cotton underwear. Apparently the hazing had gone one step further. And it was Dieter's work again. Dieter always seemed to have it for anyone smaller than him, and his buddies were always backing him up. This poor kid had probably done nothing to merit this deed, but there he was.

And there was something erotic to it. I couldn't help but be intrigued by the sight and couldn't pull my eyes from it. While the others were in hysterics and hurling insults I watched quietly fascinated, and innocent bystander. Though I didn't get hard, there was still a little bit of that "strange" feeling in the pit of my stomach. And of course it reminded me a lot of my own "bondage" experience at Dieter's hands (also volume III) almost three years prior. Only he had it worse. This poor lad was left to be teased in that chair for nearly the duration of the evening. As soon as one guest should feel sorry for the lad and suggest "enough" Dieter would intervene - no one was going to spoil his fun. I think the girls in attendance were most sympathetic, save one or two, and they were with Dieter and his friends. The guys ... well there were several who "got off" on hazing the sophs, but most were basically indifferent to his plight.

And me, I was quietly turned on by the scene, secretly even a little envious maybe? No, that was too warped. Still ...

As the evening wore on, people passed in and out of the room. From time to time came a little flurry as the youngster tried to free himself, but Dieter kept close tabs, tightening the bonds whenever they appeared loose.

Still later, the party was breaking up, most had left. There were just a few diehards remaining, I was one of them, and things were starting to heat up. Full attention had been turned to "Hoagy", as they were calling him, and he was in trouble. The game had progressed to more specific forms of humiliation. The blindfold and gag were gone and the boy was begging, almost crying. The few remaining girls were taking turns "peeking" at the submarine, pulling back the waistband, etc. Oh, they were fairly mild, and not especially brave in front of the small remaining crowd, but with Dieter urging them on it wasn't long before the boy was sporting a major erection, what with girls kissing him, blowing in his ear, rubbing their chests against his. I don't know if the kid was in heaven or hell or both, but I knew I was getting hard and just didn't know why.

One girl put her hand down his shorts. He flinched, I almost came. In a while a little spot appeared on the front of his jockeys. Not an ejaculation, but the pre-cum was "lubricating". This of course invited still more ridicule, but also finally found empathy in the girls. They let him alone after that much to Dieter's dismay.

If it were me tied up there, I might have been disappointed. But I felt sorry for the kid, obviously in dismay and in a rare act of boldness, stepped in and announced the game was over. Dieter of course protested but the "mob" as it would seem just needed one voice of reason at this point. Everyone sided with me and Dieter backed down as I released the soph from his misery. I couldn't tell if it was a look of relief or gratitude in his eyes as they searched my own, and I felt a little ashamed. I was certainly no hero, if anything I had gotten more out of this little sport that any, and I was troubled by my interest and fascination. Once freed, that kid got out of there fast, without a word.

That night I couldn't help myself. Under the sheets I fantasized, that it had been me tied to that chair, and the girls of course would go further. There was something about that feeling of helplessness and loss of power ... how do I explain it, I didn't understand it myself. It wasn't like I needed permission to get sex. I was getting plenty on my own. It was ... unfathomable.

I saw that kid in the hallways at school from time to time after that, and always took notice. I would say "hi" and get an uninspiring "hi" back. Eventually I took no more notice of him.

That spring, I was approached by the track coaches. Would "the Flash" be interested in running sprints for the track team? I was one of the fastest in the school. And it was my speed on the hockey rink that won me the name Flash. I had played baseball up until the tenth grade and had never seriously considered track. My older brother (by three years) had been quite the track star when he had passed through this school. With some smooth talking by the coaches, I agreed and that final spring of my high school years began with a new sport.

On that first day of practice I met him again - Hoagy. Actually it turns out his name was Mike Hogan, Hoagy for short. He was still the goofy soph he was the last time I saw him but after a couple of days of practice I began to gain respect for him. He was fast ... real fast. Not quite as fast as the fastest seniors but easily the fastest tenth grader. He was very quiet, not the way I remember him at the beginning of the strange party, but more the way I remember him when he left it. He was a young soph too, still only 14. There was so much about him that reminded me of myself when I was 14 ... we even shared the same name - "Michael". And seeing him out there on the track during practice, bare-chested (for we always shucked these in practice, they just accumulated sweat, otherwise), perspiring, ... just his shoes and shorts. Ah, but how I noticed him in the same way I had noticed John when I was 14 myself. And I kept picturing him over and over again, tied to that chair and that girls hand going into his underwear ...

These were private thoughts of course, but I wanted to get to know this kid better. He ran sprints, just as I did, so we practiced together. Fate seemed to throw us together that spring. When practice was over I found myself hanging around the showers, as I had with John. And it turned out he lived only three blocks from my house. We began walking home together after practice, and became good friends, despite our age difference. I think he was flattered, that the "Flash" would want to be his friend. I wondered if he remembered me from that party a few months back but didn't want to bring up the subject. I got to know him well. He was from a big Catholic family (they were all big in those days, us Catholics sure knew how to proliferate), the only boy, with six younger sisters. He was shy around girls (as I had been), and somehow just seemed to radiate sexuality to me, stirring those same confusing feelings I had about John. And maybe it was my imagination but it seemed he was looking at me the way I was looking at him. Wishful thinking? I didn't think so. He seemed to time his trips to the shower to match mine and I would look up and see him look the other way, quickly. When we had track meets (and we both ran varsity that summer) he would be there at the starting blocks, to hold my warmup sweats (worn between races for those who are unfamiliar with track and field), when I took them off right before a race. Actually, it was customary and tradition that the younger classmen did this for the seniors, but he always found me, and never any one else. Once, when I looked back I thought I saw him "smelling" my sweatpants. I got hard in an instant at this thought but eventually dismissed it as my imagination. In a strange way I felt flattered by his attention as well, and bathed in it. Okay, so I was attracted to him, maybe he was attracted to me. What next? Ah, how to move this relationship along ... and did I want to move it along? ... it wrong to have these thoughts - wasn't it?

As would be the story of my life, the opportunity finally arose to break the ice, without my creating it ... Now off and on, during the track season I kept misplacing, or losing "things" here and there. Like articles of clothing. One day after practice I couldn't find my underpants, another time it was a pair of running shorts. This day, when I returned from the shower, (timed with Mike's of course), Mike made a pit stop in the john. I continued to my locker, which was near Mike Hogan's. I was out of deodorant, and having borrowed from Mike in the past, and him being momentarily detained I decided to help myself from his locker, as I knew he wouldn't mind. But when I reached into his duffel bag I was startled - my jockstrap was in his duffel bag. The one I had just taken off before heading for the showers. How'd he get that? No, I must be mistaken, it just looks like mine, a jock's a jock, right? .. RIGHT? But I looked further and saw a second one, which I recognized as his. I looked it my own locker (where I now remember hanging it) and mine was gone. What the f---? I took my jockstrap back and said nothing, while I pondered this new development, and started making the connection with certain other "personal" items that had been disappearing the last couple of weeks. I knew there was a connection. I decided to test him. I re-hung my jockstrap where it had been, and poked around, waiting for him to get back (must have been some shit!).

Eventually he got back. He didn't notice my jockstrap right away, so I really poked around waiting for him to see it. I watched him carefully, searching his eyes when he began packing the his towel and last few articles in his duffel bag. I think he saw that his "treasure" had disappeared, he was kind of rummaging around in there.

Time to step up the pressure.

"Oh, Mike" I began, " I borrowed your deodorant, "here, take it back". And I tossed him the stick as he looked up. I don't think he made the connection right away, as he put it back in his bag. Then when I was sure he was watching, I took my jock off the hook in my locker and stuffed it in my own bag. I looked up as he turned his eyes. He was flushed, face red, strange look. Ah-hah!! Caught with his hand in the cookie jar!

I said nothing more while we were in that room. We got the rest of our things, exited the locker room, the school, and were on our walk home. The silence was awkward for him, I could sense his guilt and confusion. Obviously I knew he had had it, and he was waiting for me to say something. And I was searching for the way to say it. I couldn't fathom his interest in my jock exactly, (I learned about fetishes later as an adult), but I felt sexual, him wanting it, and it must be something sexual with him. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? It would seem so.

Once safely away from the school grounds I confronted him.

"Mike" I queried.

"Yeah?", he was nervous. He knew it was coming and he could tell from my tone of voice the day of reckoning had arrived.

"What were you doing with my jockstrap in your bag?"

"Huh?", playing dumb, but it wasn't going to work with me.

"My jock. I found it in your bag when I was looking for the deodorant." I said it unambiguously. Okay, get out of that one Hoagy!

His face was flushed and he was avoiding eye contact with me. God, this kid reminds me of myself! He was speechless, ignoring my last statement, but I wasn't going to let it go. And I could feel a certain "nervous energy" in my body building up. And I was going to see this to the end. And I remembered this little patch of woods a few blocks ahead (yes, for those who read Volume II, it was THOSE woods).

"I said you STOLE my jockstrap. I found it in your things."

He just would not look up, eyes on the ground, his pace quickened, we were walking fast, it was work to keep up with him.

"I don't know what you mean," he stammered, and after a pause, "if it was in my bag I must have got it by mistake."

"Bullshit! It was hanging on a hook in my locker".

This lad was in misery, and if we were walking any faster, we would break the school record for the mile -)

"Slow down, Mike", I ordered, exasperated with his denials.

He slowed, as commanded, but was still not going to talk about it. We were almost to those woods.

"Mike, why did you take my jock? And another thing. I've been missing a lot of stuff lately. Did you take a pair of my underpants?"

Dead silence, lots of squirming. Finally I took his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. His body was tense and he looked like he was going to collapse, or start crying or something. He were standing right next to where the trees started into those woods.

"Fuck, Mike! I had to go home without any underwear that day. What kind of prank are you playing?". I knew it was no prank, but I would cut him a little space here, get him to admit it.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know".

I don't know. How many times had I said that. I remember that night under the sheets at John's (still Volume IV), pretending to be asleep while John fondled me and when confronted by him, "I don't know". Mike didn't know. I didn't know. There was just something there that neither of us comprehended, that we were different somehow, that this troubled us, confused us as we would struggle through adolescence searching for our identities.

"Mike, are you gay?" I asked.

"NO!" he shot back without hesitation. A pause ... "It's just that... it's ... I don't know. Sometimes I feel weird. That's all ... "I'm not GAY!".

We both paused to reflect.

"Come here," I finally said, turning up towards the woods, "let's talk about this somewhere private."

He was slow to follow but he did. He seemed somewhat relieved, and glad to disappear from public, as if the world were watching him try to explain what he didn't understand about his sexuality.

In the trees I began in again, somewhat more earnestly, "so what do you do with my things?", as if I had to guess.

His reluctance to talk was getting to him again, and once again we had lost eye contact as he watched his feet play with a stick on the ground.

"Nothing."

"Uh, huh. You know what I think?" I was getting bolder, "I think you jerk off with them or something. I think you like to smell 'em or something and play with yourself".

He must have felt my eyes burning through his skull. His features were even redder, it thats possible, and I ... I ... I was getting hard, just picturing him doing what I had just accused him of, yes, there was no mistake, this situation, the intimacy - I was getting turned on. ADMIT IT DAMNIT!

He didn't deny it, nor did he admit it. His head hung and he was on the verge of tears.

"Mike", I said softly. "That's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone about this. I do it too. I mean, I've never taken anyone's jock or anything, but I jerk off sometimes, you know, like when I'm between girlfriends", and every other day as well. -)

Was that relief I saw on his face?

"You do?" he asked a little disbelievingly, testing me perhaps.

"Sure. One in a while".

"What do you think about?" he asked, interested, and more at ease. Glad to be off the subject of the jock and onto something ... better? "You know, when you're doing it."

"I don't know. All kinds of things. I like to dream I'm fucking some girl ... sometimes I imagine I'm getting a blow job." All true.

"Yeah, me too. You think a girl would ever give you a blow job?" Hoagy asked.

I smiled. "Already has. I came in her mouth and everything." I was boasting.

"Man" was all he could say. "I can't believe anyone could do that do you? I mean suck on a guy's dick ... I wonder what it felt like ... for her, you know, I mean ..." his voice trailed off. His voice expressed genuine curiosity, maybe more. Yes, I had thought about this before too, what was it like to blow somebody. Once in a while in my dreams I had imagined John and I did that too each other (though we never did), but I tried to keep such perverted thoughts from my mind. I looked up, and saw that Mike was staring at the erection in my jeans. He looked away when I looked up at him. Then I looked at his own crotch. Seeing me do this out of the corner of his eye he deftly moved his arm with the duffel bag to conceal - but he was too late, as I saw the same betraying bulge in his trousers that was raging in mine. There we were, two lads, horny, confused, waiting for the next move.

In uncharacteristic fashion I made the next move. I started fondling myself, casually. (Yeah, right!)

"I'm kind of horny right now, just talking about sex" I admitted with some trepidation. There was nervousness in my voice now, I could feel it shaking as I uttered those words hoarsely. And my tone left no mistake of my intent. It was up to Mike Hogan now. Was he ready like I was. Was he prepared to let that slumbering image from the back of his mind awaken? There were butterflies in my stomach, and the ever familiar weakening in my knees as the anticipation built.

"Yeah, me too" he admitted.

Silence. Okay. I'll make the next move.

"Mike, we could jerk off right now. You know, get some relief." My heart was pounding. And I could picture him sitting there in that chair, tied up, MY hand down his underpants. IT was getting to me.

"Yeah, we could." he said simply.

"Let's do it" I whispered. His hand was on his fly. He was thinking about it. He wanted to but was afraid to let go. I took a chance - I unzipped my pants and sat on a fallen log.

"Come on. Sit here" I urged.

He touched himself. He was on the edge.

"Come on. You know you want it. I'll let you have my jock if you do it with me."

Oops. Wrong thing to say. He was over the jock issue, shouldn't have brought it up.

"I don't want your jock" he replied, but he did come over and started tugging at his pants. Encouraged, I pulled mine done, pants and underwear to my ankles. And then I started pulling slowly on something else. At last he surrendered to his lustful heart, and joined me on the log, pants down to his ankles, pulling on his own member, only with a little reluctance.

He was fascinated watching me and me of him. I wanted more though. I wanted what I had with John.

"Maybe we could do each other" I suggested.

He paused for only a moment. He did not fight it this time. He gave in, just as I used to do.

"Okay".

I moved closer, seizing the moment lest he have a change of heart. I spit into my palm, and reached down, grasping his pole firmly. I rubbed my palm over the top, and my thumb along the rim. He let out an appreciating gasp, and a little juice oozed out. I collected this as well, working it into the lube. He began to move his hips with the rhythm of my hand.

I took his near hand and placed it on my own throbbing staff. That was the deal. There was no hesitation from him over this. Instinctively his strokes on my shaft matched my own strokes on his phallus.

Had anyone happened upon us this afternoon we would never have heard them. We were lost in the moment. My eyes were riveted on his penis, my mind imagining it was back at the party, him straining against the bonds as I tantalizingly teased his aching cock. I could sense he was getting close and so was I. I was transfixed. I had held John's penis in my hand before but it was different this time. Before everything was in the dark. This was in the open, Mike's thing hanging out there. I fell in love with this boy's wonderful penis.

Call it a compulsion. An urge. A basic instinct. Call it perverted. But something came over me at that point. I stopped my movements and gave it one last thought. Then, as Mike Hogan sat spellbound, I leaned over, and took the head of his penis in my mouth.

He seemed frightened for a moment but offered no resistance to the "Flash". It was so exciting. The taste, the smell. There was a sort of pungent odor, despite the fact that we had showered less than thirty minutes before. His throbbing boyhood, actually was tasteless, but as more pre-cum oozed out there was a salty, pleasant taste.

His breathing was in gasps, he was in heaven. His own hand slipped off my dick as the suddenly blurted "Mike! Take your mouth off!"

I knew what he meant, considered only for a moment to ignore his warning, and released his captive prick from my lips just in the nick of time. His semen jettisoned twelve to eighteen inches. From up close where I was it looked like a flood. After the initial pulsation, more oozed out, as his hips bucked underneath him.

His initial squirt caught me on the cheek, and it was dripping down my face. I quickly grabbed my wet towel from my athletic bag and removed it in one swipe.

He sat silently, me still hard, him slowly softening into a wet slippery sausage. I rubbed myself slightly, as he watched intently.

I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Should he or shouldn't he. But he was seduced beyond the point of return. He started to bend over, hesitated, straightened up, bent over again, and grasped my erection with both hands while he contemplated.

Gently, I placed my hands on his head, and guided it down to where he was looking. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed, and swallowed me whole.

He was as inexperienced at this as I was, gently milking me with his mouth, careful not to catch me with his teeth.

"Tell me when you're gonna come", it was a pleading kind of voice.

I thought how nice it would be to spill me seed into his warm mouth but gave in when he repeated his request.

"Okay" I promised.

I kept my promise, and it took only moments.

"It's coming" I whispered.

He yanked his mouth off my dick like lightning struck him and moved his face out of the way. But his hands continued to caress my throbbing erection, and I ejaculated into the palms of his eager young hands, with an intensity known only by new experiences. He watched spellbound as I gushed my soul into his youthful hands.

At last it was over. I felt no shame at that moment, just a quenched lust and the feeling that a long aching need had been met.

Mike Hogan ... I don't know what we felt. I recognized the same guilty look in his face I felt that time I fooled around with John, and the expression of sexual awareness and awe was written from ear to ear.

"Don't tell anyone about this" Mike cautioned.

"No, you neither".

We sealed the agreement with nodding heads.

Once cleaned up, we resumed our walk home. We talked about many things those remaining few minutes, but not about what we just did. It was as if we needed to re-assure ourselves that it was no big deal, that we were okay, it was just one of those things.

But it wasn't just one of those things. Mike and I repeated that encounter a few more times, always in those same woods on the way home from track, over the rest of the spring until track and school both let out about the same time. I became comfortable with myself, Mike was always a little more nervous. I never pressed him again about why he took my things, and my things stopped disappearing. It became a mute point given our relationship. Our friendship tailed off over the summer months, as each of us acquired girlfriends. I went back to the drive-in makeouts, Mike and his girl did it where ever. We would often compare notes that summer, when we did see each other, getting each other worked up as we told of our sexual exploits with the girls (some real, some exaggerated I think), convincing ourselves that we were "okay". I felt a little guilt coming out of that relationship, telling myself that I had seduced him, but then arguing still with myself that he was more the culprit, given his propensity for stealing my underpants and stuff. It doesn't matter. And it was my last bi relationship. I don't know that it is something I outgrew. My college years would be one fornication after another, and a string of girls and "dorm encounters", but I never really met any "guy" in college that caused me to think of him in the sexual way I had with Hoagy or John. I think deep down there will always be a bi-side to me, one that lays dormant some how, for though many years have passed since those times with no further bi-encounters or string bi-urges I still look back at those youthful experiences, not with shame anymore, but with a genuine fondness.

I met Mike again recently, and that was the instigation for writing these stories. Actually, I ran into one of his little sisters at a work-related party. She filled me in on all the things he had been doing over the years. Like me, he was married, and a father. I was intrigued to meet this "old" friend, and having purloined his address and phone number from his sister, met him for a drink recently. We talked of old times, and though it took me to bring it up, he talked freely and unabashedly about our "friendship" and all its capacities.

For a fleeting moment I considered ... No, it just wouldn't be right. After all, I was married now. I wondered if he thought that same thought, though ...

`M'