To Home And Back, part 1
To Home And Back, Part 1
by Greg Scott
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All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
For my regular readers, I want to point out that this story is not part of The Lavender Line series.
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Okay, I'll admit that I'm not very well informed about matters of sex. In fact my college roommate recently called me "amazingly naive," which is probably a pretty accurate description, although college life has begun to help me fill in some of the blanks.
Here's my excuse for my ignorance. I was raised in a pretty religious family. My parents are strict "born-again," Christians, who believed that sex education belonged only in the home. That might all me fine, but my parents never got around to that lesson. Actually, I guess they sort of got around to it, but they didn't use any of the words that real people actually use.
All of my school friends came from the same sort of environment. Consequently, I didn't really have a chance to "learn it on the streets." Furthermore, I didn't have the advantage of having an older brother, like some of my college buddies have, to tell me what I needed to know--or, more accurately, what I might need to know at some point in my life.
This ignorance didn't really bother me until I went to college. When you're surrounded by others who don't know any more that you do, you don't even notice the things that you don't know. Plus, I haven't developed any interest in girls yet, although everyone always tells me that I will. Some guys just develop slower than others in that way.
Some of the guys at my high school used to tease me about my under-development. I don't mean physically. I was actually bigger than most of the guys in my class, and during my physicals with the doctor that we had to have before we played any sports he always told me that I was "ahead of schedule" in my development.
No, my friends only meant that my attraction to girls was behind schedule. I actually got into the habit of pretending that I had more of an attraction toward the pretty girls in my class than I really felt. It just sort of happened automatically. I didn't even notice that I was faking it until I got to college.
Even though my college has a reputation of being this straight-laced, Christian place with only the purist of students, I immediately noticed that around the dorms there was a lot more talk about sex than there ever was at my high school. A lot of the guys even admitted that they are not virgins, even though most of them had taken the same chastity pledge that I had.
I mean, at my high school, the most guys ever talked about was jacking-off. That was a fairly common topic of conversation from the time we were high school freshmen. I'd join in the conversation, admitting that of course I jacked-off. I talked about it in vague terms for several months before I finally figured out what the guys were actually talking about. Once I knew what I had admitted to doing, I was really embarrassed.
Of course, in actuality, I had been doing that since I was in fifth or sixth grade. However, if I had really known what it was called, I never would have admitted it.
In college, though, when there weren't any girls around, the guys talked about a lot more than jacking-off. They actually talked about sexual intercourse, although they came right out and called it fucking. I was kind of shocked the first time I heard that, but I tried not to show it. Within a couple weeks, I had gotten pretty used to hearing the word, although nobody would have ever said it out on the main campus away from the all male atmosphere of the dorm.
Especially late at night, as we would all hang around the floor lounge, it almost became a competition of who could tell the grossest sex story. Admitting that I jacked-off (which is sometimes called "jerking-off" or "beating off," in case you don't know) wasn't going to get much attention or win many points for me in that sort of contest.
Since I had no real sex experience of any kind, not even touching a girl's breast, I would tell my stories about things that I would like to do to a girl, if I had the chance. In fact, I didn't really want to do those things, because, as I mentioned before, I'm a late developer. I told my supposed wishes with great enthusiasm, anyway. I was gradually learning the terms for some details that I could throw in to make my story better.
One time this guy, Brad, who seemed to have had more sex than anybody in the world--at least anybody who wasn't married, of course--Brad told this story about oral sex with a girl he knew in high school. This was a brand new concept to me, and he was throwing around terms faster than I could figure out what he was talking about. It all sounded pretty disgusting to me, but I acted like it was the coolest thing in the world, because the other guys seemed to think it really was.
I decided to add that particular technique to my own stories, since it seemed to get such positive reactions. Unfortunately, like I told you before, Brad used too many terms too fast for me to really keep up.
Whenever I would sense that the audience was working up to a frenzy as more and more guys began to work oral sex into their own stories, I would blurt out, "I love to suck cock!" This was my way of contributing to the story about applying the mouth to a girl's private area.
I must have done that for a good two or three weeks. Each time after I would say that, the conversation would stop momentarily, and everyone would stare at me. A couple guys would usually laugh nervously, and then the story would carry on from where it had left off.
Finally, my roommate explained to me one night what my now favorite expression really meant. I was sure he was wrong, but he eventually convinced me that what I had really been saying was effectively, "I love to have a man's penis in my mouth."
To say that I was embarrassed would be the biggest understatement you could make. As much as that, though, I was confused.
"You mean girls actually do that?" I asked my roommate.
"Yes, they actually do," he replied. "And gay guys sometimes do that to each other."
"Do you think the other guys might think I'm gay, now?" I asked, panicked.
"No. I think the other guys just think you're stupid."
I was relieved when he said that. At that college it was a lot better to be stupid than gay.
I decided that in the future, I would only join in the conversations if I knew what the words I used actually meant. That restricted my participation considerably, but my vocabulary was growing nearly every day.
Thanksgiving break finally rolled around. Like everyone else on campus, I would be going to be with my family. I had a car, so I would be able to drive there. A lot of my friends had to take a bus. Some who lived closer were going to be picked up by a parent or an older brother or sister.
Students are allowed to have cars at my college, but we're only allowed to drive them if we are going to or from our homes for a weekend or holiday. A parent has to call to confirm our trip before we are even allowed to get them out of the parking lot. I guess that's to make sure that we don't sneak off campus to have sex or drink or something.
We didn't have classes on the Wednesday before the holiday, so most of the students left after their last class on Tuesday. My parents didn't like me driving after dark, so I waited to leave until after breakfast Tuesday morning for my four hour drive.
I drank too much coffee, juice and milk at breakfast. Breakfast is my favorite meal, so I always make a pig of myself. Anyway, I had to pee after I had driven part way.
Fortunately, there was a little rest area about midway to my house. I was glad when I finally reached it.
As I pulled into the driveway of the area, I noticed two cars at one end. One of the cars was empty. In the other car, two guys about my dad's age were sitting close together in the back seat. I don't know why they were in the backseat. Maybe their wives had walked to the rest room building.
In front of the building, there was one other empty car. The place was pretty much deserted, which was fine with me, because I'm kind of shy when it comes to peeing around other people.
By the time I had parked in front of the building, my bladder was really in need of emptying. I walked the short distance to the men's room as quickly as I could without jiggling my poor bladder even more.
When I entered the room, there were three empty urinals along one wall. I couldn't be sure that they would stay empty, so I decided to use one of the two stalls to assure my privacy. As I got to the first stall, I saw there was no door, so I went on to the second.
The second stall was door-less as well. Furthermore it was occupied by a man, probably in his fifties or sixties. I stood there stunned as I realized that I was looking directly at a stranger sitting on a toilet. That was embarrassing enough, but to make it even worse his penis looked wet and was standing straight up pointing at the ceiling.
As soon as I realized that I had been staring mostly at his penis, I said, "Excuse me," and quickly moved back to the first stall.
"Any time," said the man, which I thought was an odd thing to say, but I had to pee too badly to give it much thought.
I unzipped and directed my own penis at the water in the porcelain receptacle. As I began to feel some relief, I thought that I detected movement to my left.
I looked and saw a hole in the wall that separated the two stalls. The hole was about the size of a salad plate. Framed by the hole was most of the face of the man that I had just seen. When he saw me looking, he licked his lips slowly and then leaned back out of my view.
Above the hole I notice some words written in a very small script. The message, which I could barely make out without straining, said, "Stick your cock through the hole to get it sucked."
Thanks to my roommate's detailed explanation, I knew what the words meant. I congratulated myself on my newfound knowledge. Then I noticed that I was starting to get an erection (which some people refer to as a hard-on, in case you don't know).
The written invitation had aroused me, but I had no way of knowing who had written it. Besides, I couldn't even imagine myself following its instructions. I had signed a chastity pledge, remember.
My urine had slowed to a trickle and directing it into the toilet was made more difficult by my now stiffened penis. I gave that effort my full attention. Standing there trying to shake off the last stubborn drop or two from the tip of my penis, I again noticed movement at the hole by means of my peripheral vision.
"Come on, give it a try," the man whispered. "You'll like it."
I honestly don't know what got into me. I took about half a step backwards and pivoted to my left, carefully placing my penis just barely through the opening.
My neighbor pushed out his tongue to reach it and gave it a couple quick licks. I stepped forward so that my hips were nearly touching the dividing wall.
The man responded by taking my tip fully into his mouth back to the part of my penis where it kind of flares out. I shivered in response. It felt amazing.
I almost ejaculated immediately. I think the only reason that I didn't is the shock I felt when he moved his mouth forward to take almost my entire penis into him. If I thought that his first move was good, then this one was spectacular.
I hate to admit it, but I didn't even feel a little bit guilty. The sensations were too intense for me to think about anything else.
It got even better when he started to move his head back and forth. When he would go backwards only the top part of my cock was in his mouth, but then he would quickly move forward taking all of me and applying an amazing suction.
Soon, at first without even realizing it, I started to move along with him only in the opposite direction, I guess. When he would move backwards, I would help him by moving back a little myself. When he would begin to take more of me into him, I helped by plunging back into his mouth all the way back to the part where his throat began. Soon, I was doing all of the moving for both of us.
I have no idea how to describe how all this felt. It was warm, wet and soft at the same time. He used his tongue every once in a while to swirl it around my rigid pole. I think I started to make some sounds, although I'm not sure about that.
A flash of blue caught my attention to my left. I looked sharply, frightened, my heart racing about two hundred beats a minute at least. I hadn't heard any door or anything, but to my left stood a guy about my age, wearing a bright blue jacket.
I would have quickly pulled my penis back through the hole, put myself back in my pants and run out of there except for one thing. The guy in the blue jacket had exposed his own erect penis and was actually jacking off as he watched me get my first blow job.
I resumed my own pumping movement, back and forth into the sucker's mouth. However, I kept my eyes on the blue jacket guy. I've never said this about a guy before, but he was really cute. I mean I actually thought that to myself. Those were the words that I actually used while I thought it.
I was surprised by my assessment of the guy, but once again I didn't feel any guilt about it. He had this really appealing face that I felt as if I could just stare at for hours. Of course, I didn't stare at his face for hours, because I was also interested in that thing that he was slowly stroking.
The only other penis that I had seen before, other than my own, was my roommate's, and that was just once by accident. Well, maybe when I was at an age where I couldn't remember it, I might have seen my dad's or something. I had definitely never seen a hard cock before, except my own of course. Oh yeah, I guess I saw another one by accident when I looked into my neighbor's stall a few minutes before.
It fascinated me. While I thought this guy's face and body were cute, I would have to use a different word for his cock. It was amazing. Of course watching any erect penis while I was getting my cock sucked would probably have caused the same reaction in me.
I felt the semen building up in me, working its way toward my cock. I kept staring at the young man's penis, and I began to wonder if it felt like my own. I mean that I wondered if it would feel like mine does when I touch mine. Would the firmness be the same? Would the skin be as soft? That sort of thing.
Those thoughts brought me over the edge. Maybe I should have warned the guy in the other stall, but I didn't. Frankly, he didn't seem to mind at all. He increased his sucking action once I started exploding into his mouth, and he began to moan. His moan in turn vibrated my cock and made the feeling more intense than it had ever been.
During my climax, I returned my stare to the man who was receiving my semen. I watched as he eagerly sucked and swallowed and then repeated that process several more times.
Only when I was completely finished did the man allow my cock to fall from his mouth. And only then did I return my attention to the very cute guy to my left.
He had stopped his stroking, but I saw no evidence anywhere that he had ejaculated. He tucked his penis back into his pants with difficulty, but he stared into my eyes as he did that. I put away my own.
I leaned down to the hole, and I whispered, "Thank you."
I saw that the man in the stall was jacking off furiously. I watched as his semen flew all over his shirt.
Once the man was finished, I turned to walk out of the stall. I went to a sink, washed my hands quickly, and then walked back to my car without drying my hands.
As I opened my car door, I noticed that the young man had come out immediately after me. He sat down at a nearby picnic table and stared in my direction.
I thought, "What have I done?"
I started the car, backed out of my space and continued my journey home.
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