Warning! The following story is a pure work of erotic fiction. The story contains descriptive scenes of sexual encounters between consenting individuals. If you are not of legal age to read stories of this nature or you are offended by the subject matter contained herein do not read any further.
Midwestern Tale By The Rump Ranger
My first attempt at getting cornholed, that is what my boyfriend called it, occurred late summer before I entered seventh grade.
Tim, my neighbor and best buddy, attempted to take my anal virginity on a Friday night after a day of fishing and swimming down at the lake. He attempted to penetrate my unspoiled asshole using nothing more than saliva as a lubricant: not the best lubricant for anal intercourse. Tim was older than me and supposedly more experienced sexually. At least I thought he had more experience. He was also a grade ahead of me in school. We were about the same stature. I'd gone through a growth spurt late in the sixth grade and continued to grow during the summer; therefore, I was a big for my age.
At five foot ten inches my naturally well-built body allowed me to start hanging with a particular social group of more mature boys in our small Midwestern community. During that summer before entering the seventh grade I continued to grow. I began to notice that my body was changing. I began developing a little hair under my armpits, around my crotch, even a few straggly hairs on my face. My voice was doing strange things. My testicles had dropped. My penis had gotten bigger both flaccid and erect. I was experiencing strange feelings. My life was in a chaotic state.
My body and emotions were changing in so many areas that it was beginning to freak me out. I felt a sense of abandonment and loneliness. Then all of a sudden one day without any warning I became permanent member of the toughest crowd in our community. There was no initiation or beat down, just slaps on the back accepting me as one of the crew. Most of the younger guys in our gang had older brothers who were part of the small social group or had been before they left for college or military service. I was an only child, so there was no older brother to usher me into the tight knit group. Tim did that job for me.
Most of the guys aged out of the gang by mid to late high school years for one reason or the other. As I think back I suspect they simply outgrew the gang. Our gang did all sorts of neat stuff together. Because we lived in rural America families did things as a community group. We attended church activities which included little league sports, went camping, fishing and hunting as well as picnics and family reunions. Every boy knew how to fish by the time he started school and by ages eight or nine boys started hunting with their fathers and family members.
Many boys in the area had their own BB guns or air rifles, 22 rifles and shotguns by the time they were ten or eleven, and I was no exception. For me living in rural America made for good times. Our gang went swimming nude down at the lake and river during the summer months, so I got to see the boy's nude. During the summer we would lie on the river bank nude after swimming, joking, smoking and listening to the older boy's spinning yarns of sexual accomplishments.
I listened intently to the older boys tell of their sexual exploits with girls in the community all the while watching our dicks grow. The older boys would explain in detail about how they would cop a feel, play stink finger, and then fuck a local girl. Of course I'd never done any of that stuff, so the stories were intriguing. Looking back I doubt that the boys had done all they bragged about, but the stories were good for sexual arousal.
Bobby and Jerry were the oldest of our crew, both around fifteen, and Tim was Jerry's younger brother. Danny who was seventeen had just left the gang about the time I arrived, leaving a leadership power vacuum. Bobby and Jerry were the two next youngest and must have been around fifteen as neither of them had a driver's license yet. One way or the other they would vie for leadership of our crew. In all probability there would be a fight to see who was the toughest and thereby become the leader of the gang.
I hated to see any of the guys fight, but that was the way it was back in the day. I was never much of a fighter as a youngster. I would rather play sports, ride my bicycle with the others, and of course play with my favorite toy, my penis, than fight.
The older boys had their bikes all tricked out. Bobby and Jerry however had used Cushman motor scooters that they used to deliver newspapers and other advertisements. The school would not allow them to bring the scooters to school, so they rode their bikes. The boys were always tinkering with their scooters to keep them running. Houses were spread out in the country, not like living in the city today where next door neighbors can hear their neighbors taking piss. When not delivering his paper route Jerry also worked for his dad in the local general store (kind of like a Quick Stop convenience store in today's world). Our crew, seven in all, would gather at the store in the mornings on our way to school and after school where we occupied the same picnic table under the covering beside the store.
Although all of us were Caucasian Christians we considered ourselves to be the bad boys of the town and dressed the part to fit. Of course all of us had the ducktail hairstyle popular back in the day. We talked tough shit to interlopers, thereby scaring them away from our turf. Once in a while there would be a rumble. Back in the day bad boys were who the girls looked to for adventure and fun.
All of us were filled with a sense of adventure. We talked the tough talk, even swearing, of course not around any adults, and smoked cigarettes to look tough. Obtaining tobacco products, alcohol and condoms was easy considering the time period, and also since Jerry's dad owned the general store. There was no carding for cigarettes at that time in our area of the country; plus there were cigarette machines in all the stores and service stations. Needless to say, obtaining alcohol, tobacco products or condoms back in the day was easy. The Vietnam War was fast coming to a conclusion as far as US ground troop's involvement and we all knew that we would miss out on being a part of that war.
The guys that returned from war seemed to have the coolest cars or bikes. Then they would get married and have to sell their precious pride and joys. By the time we were preteens and teens we were all enamored with the biker culture that seemed to be sweeping the country. Of course we tried as best we could with our bicycles to emulate bad boy bikers in the films. We wore black leather jackets over our white T-shirts. Most of us wore some type of black boots and Levis to complete our tough appearance. A good many biker flicks had been produced since the 1950s and we tried to see them all.
Easy Rider with Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper was the film that caught my attention. I probably saw the movie at least half dozen times and still catch the classic today when it's on cable. After seeing that film I knew when I turned eighteen I would buy a Harley, preferably a Harley chopper and travel America. Tim wanted to be my partner for the cross country adventure, so we were saving our pennies to buy bikes and gas. Neither of us dated seriously as that might take away from our bike fund. Neither of us considered ourselves to be homosexual, but we did enjoy each other's company experimenting.
One Friday afternoon during summer vacation after fishing and swimming at the lake all day we put up our small tent to stay overnight. I sensed that we would do some sexual stuff that night as earlier conversation had set the tone for it. After darkness set we cooked hot dogs on a small campfire and drank the two remaining sodas we had brought along. We extinguished the fire, crawled into our tent and then the flashlights came out. Inside the tent we began playing around with each other. One thing led to the other and eventually we were turned opposite each other performing oral sex.
I must say at this point in my life that I had become addicted to oral sex and we both could ejaculate. Blowjobs were on my mind damn near 24/7 to the point that all I thought about and looked forward to was getting away to some secluded place to suck and get sucked. I would think about Tim blowing me and get a hard on. Those damn erections always came at the worst possible times. I'm pretty sure Tim was addicted too. Two things we did not engage in was kissing and ejaculating in the other's mouth.
Back during my youth kissing another boy on the lips was frowned upon and definitely a sign he was queer. Tim and I would suck each other simultaneously or individually dependent upon the setting. We quickly learned to ease up or take a break when we felt that sensation that we were about to cum. We had a signal to indicate we were close and about to blow when we were sixty-nining. We would slap each other's ass and then pull off before blowing a load. Sometimes we would just lay back and let the sensation building up die down, thinking about other things. Other times after blowing each other we would jack each other off to conclusion.
That Friday night after performing oral sex we finished jacking each other off to fruition. Once we both ejaculated we wiped up the mess with our cum rags and settled back on our sleeping bags to get some sleep. Tim rolled over with one leg covering my crotch and leg with his head resting on my chest and shoulder. I remember how warm his body felt against mine as well as his warm breath blowing against my neck.
I wanted to make out, kissing him filling his mouth with my tongue and for him to reciprocate. I wanted us to hold each other our warm bodies close together until the sun came up. That night was the first time I had feelings for a guy. I knew that these feelings I was having for Tim were not good and I had to put a lid on them. These were the type feelings I was supposed to have for a girl. Sometime after midnight Tim whispered, "Are you asleep.
I replied, "No."
He asked, "Do you want to do some more stuff?"
I answered back excitedly, "Sure!"
Tim propped up on his elbow whereby he began quizzing me. He wanted to know if I had ever considered doing anything anal, such as cornholing. I told him that I'd heard the term and knew what it meant, but didn't really know how to perform it. Of course there was a game called cornhole, but what Tim was referring to was butt fucking me. Tim began explaining how he was going to put his hard dick up my ass. As he talked my sphincter began to tighten up. I'd never had anything in my ass except an enema a couple times and that wasn't pleasant.
While Tim was explaining the process to me he began rubbing his hand up and down my front eventually finding my hard dick. In no time I was moaning with pleasure as he played with it. He then wet his finger and found my asshole. Tim continued putting his saliva on his fingers getting my asshole area all wet. He told me that when his finger penetrated me that it would hurt a little, but then I would feel a wave of pleasure wash away the pain.
Suddenly, I felt his finger attempting to penetrate my virgin asshole. My asshole tightened up and I let out a squeak of pain as his finger attempted to push into my asshole. I clamped my legs and asshole tight. Tim stopped, withdrawing his hand to spit in his hand. Once again he began rubbing the saliva into my ass. I told him to try again. He began rubbing my ass and at the same time he was telling me to relax. I guess I became relaxed because on the second attempt his finger made successful entry. His finger continued playing in my ass. I thought to myself this must be finger fucking or stink finger that I'd heard so much about from the older boys.
Tim must have finger fucked me for an hour. Sometimes he had two fingers inside me. While Tim finger fucked me I was moaning and groaning writhing around on the ground in great pleasure. I was begging Tim to fuck me. I knew I was ready to be fucked. After a while Tim instructed me to get on all fours like a dog and he would get behind me. I'd seen dogs and farm animals do this so I got into animal reproductive position. Tim spit into the crack of my ass a few times while his hand rubbed the saliva in my ass. He then put the spongy head of his bigger prick against my asshole and began pushing.
The harder he pushed the spongy head of his dick against my asshole trying to penetrate my virgin asshole the more I would tighten my sphincter muscle, preventing penetration. I was trying not to make any sounds of discomfort, but that was not happening. Tim's dick would buckle ever once in a while. He kept telling me to relax, but to make sure to tell him if it hurt. I told him hell yes it hurts. Tim jokingly said that he should have packed a glob of wheel bearing grease to lube up my tight asshole. I replied at least some Crisco. After numerous tries we accepted the inevitable: Tim's dick apparently was too big and was not going up my ass that morning using nothing more than spit as lubricant.
As the sun rose in the east Saturday morning we ran naked to the lake to rinse off. We returned to our tent for a session of oral sex. Then we cleaned up, ate a few handfuls of dry cereal, packed all our camping gear on our bikes and began peddling towards home. As we neared town we stopped our bikes at the fork in the road. Tim said see you at church in the morning pal. Then we rode off towards our respective homes.
[Do you as readers want to hear more about me and my buds? Do you want to find out if Tim ever penetrate my virgin asshole. Let me hear from you readers. Comments and critics are welcome. If you find any mistakes please feel free to point them out to me. Address all correspondences to Randall at: bn2rumpranger "at" yahoo "dot" com Subject line: Midwest Slut.
Do not send any e-mail with attachments to this address as they are automatically deleted using special anti Spam software.
All rights reserved. This story is copyrighted and may not be distributed on any other website or publications without the express written permission of the author.]