That special feeling Part 1
I don't know what prompted it, I'd certainly enjoyed what she did to my prick last night but then I found myself casting my mind back...way back to my teens. I'd been a boarder at an English school and early on developed a furtive relationship (well, there were two actually) with a frail looking little fellow with huge dark eyes. What we did together was of necessity mostly after lights out when all had settled, this involved listening intently at doors before stealthily entering the other's room. Of course having gone to so much risk and trouble we felt obliged to make our sessions last as long as possible - in short we became expert at what we did, I know I could bring my little friend to the point where he begged me to make him cum.....perversely I'd continue fondling and teasing his prick despite his pleas....and meanwhile that special "feeling" would build inside me....you know, the one that's so warm and sexy, breathing is difficult? I'd be thoroughly aroused at the sight of his nude body and most reluctant to terminate what I was doing to him....ever so careful not to send him over the edge into release.... For this reason it wasn't long before I learned not to suck..oh yes I enjoyed the velvety texture and salty taste, enjoyed it very much but knew too well that he'd be likely to lose it and next I knew, would be face fucking me frantically and then he'd cum way too soon....
Leaving school had presented problems of course..I'd been terribly shy but eventually late one evening in a London Pub I'd met an interesting young man who had suggested we go back to his place for coffee...I knew of course what that meant so that when he asked me to undress for him it wasn't a problem...oh the delicious feel of his fingers then his eventual penetration...he used me as a woman so thoroughly that next day I was stiff and sore....but those memories...they remained latent but now, it's all coming back..I've been sort of celibate far too long....girls have obliged but somehow, it's not the same - is it? Often I lie back gently stroking my prick...I can make it last ..and last..Vaseline helps of course but old habits die hard...prolonging the pleasure..and all too often it's not a girl I envisage but a slim boy whose hips undulate beneath my hands and whose huge dark eyes gaze up at me - pleadingly.
Later of course our sessions became more sophisticated, more blatantly "gay" - there was the occasion when as I tugged at his pyjama cord and he resignedly muttered "a right couple of queers - aren't we?" I didn't disagree particularly when a little later lying alongside him, both of us naked, with arms around him I caressed the small of his back to find my breath catching while he - well he began to shake, his face buried in my shoulder..oh yes, a right couple of queers we were...and now as memories of those intense pleasures came back, I found myself yearning for them again, the feel of another man's fingers toying with my prick, the questing finger prior to a prick's insertion...oh yes, there were women I knew quite happy to oblige and quite good at it...but none could match the pleasuring I'd received in the hands of my boyfriends. Often when in a public toilet I'd glance at the graffiti only to grow hard at some of the depictions, boys with erections, boys sucking, boys being penetrated in seemingly impossible positions....
Once embarked on that train of thought I began to seriously consider it....this was a small town I now lived in and obviously extreme caution was called for - I didn't even know if there were a gay scene here though guessed that if there were it would be well and truly underground...so I bided my time. Enlightenment occurred by accident, there was only one gents hair dresser in town at the time, I'd noticed him previously, a small cock robin of a man who chattered away while clicking the scissors...he seemed to delight in spreading the gossip. It was after I'd paid him a few visits that he began to unwind, to him I was now a "regular" and bit by bit the town gossip came out and then, voice dropping he confided "Oh my yes...those little churches, they're full every Sunday..yes, mark my words and you've seen them...Oh don't go to church do you...well then." Here he paused then continued "You'd be surprised you know...." another pause and he glanced away to retrieve another implement "Well, all very holy they are...after church....but some of them...and there's some well known ones mind you...in the evening..they get away from the missus..hang out somewhere, meet up on the quiet and guess what they're after..sometimes some local young lads will mix in but mostly they're partial to a bit of stuff - in the bushes of course...with each other. I hear all sorts of things in here - you'd be surprised."
My heart was starting to pound, I had to swallow before speaking "You mean...every day? Surely not in daylight...unless of course they were well away...." The little chap nodded wisely, "Yes, yes of course but they chose a good place, lots of bushes up there on the hill and besides...most people know what goes on there, so they avoid the place...unless they're after some fun too! Never seen the cars parked up there have you?" Come to think of it I had seen them - besides there was only the one hill in town so I knew exactly where the action was. Keeping my voice casual I questioned "So I suppose these respectable characters...they go there once a week...don't their wives ask questions?" He coughed then said "Well I hear that early evening most days there's some blokes in the bushes...but Thursdays (tonight) is most active and no, the wives don't bother 'cause I hear most are only after a quick one - you know? An' the wives don't notice though mind you, I hear one or two have a sort of understanding with the missus....very attractive some of them too...pretty little things...though one bloke was really silly and got caught in another bloke's bed and HIS wife wasn't as understanding!"
As he spoke, I'd noticed quite incongruously that the barber himself could be described as "a pretty little thing" but expunged that thought on seeing his wife in the doorway, I'd heard about her, a dainty doll like woman dressed to the nines in ultra feminine frills - by all accounts he doted upon her. No, he was a bird like little fellow but I couldn't imagine him in those bushes...being pawed at by some corpulent member of the Chamber of Commerce....intriguing thought all the same! He was leaning quite close though, if his wife hadn't of been watching us I wondered what would have happened...would he have gone further?
Well, now I knew where those enjoying a taste of casual gay sex in these parts went to indulge it...better still it appeared to be tacitly accepted in the community at large, I knew that tonight would see increased activity and because of that my presence would possibly attract less attention - the safety in numbers thing. I weighed the pros and cons - yes, there was a risk of discovery but against that I balanced the fact that in some way it seemed to be a semi official venue besides, anyone present would probably be extremely reluctant to talk - particularly in a small town such as this where it seemed that if you were discreet most things were acceptable. A positive was that in a small community there was less likelihood of a criminal element being present and then - above all and obscuring any other consideration was the fact that by now I really wanted, needed, to have another man feeling my prick and at that thought I came erect..I knew then what I'd be doing that evening.