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I decided, as I looked at him, that he is incredibly beautiful
and I gently brush the smooth satin skin with my hand. I have
watched people’s heads turn and look at him when we are out
together. I have seen men and women stare at the beautiful boy and
I sense that they are attracted, enamored of the boy with the lithe
graceful body. I know they wonder whether I am his father or merely
a friend. The boy feels deliciously warm and his body seems to glow
with energy and life. His skin is perfectly smooth with the silky
oiliness of a child, a dry warmth emanating from a lustrous brown
body.
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This morning I awoke slowly, becoming gradually aware of the
boy lying beside me, his arm draped casually over my chest, his leg
over my legs, his face pressed against my shoulder, his cheek hot
against my skin. His breath was moist against my skin as his chest
moved rhythmically though barely visible unless I looked closely.
He stirred, his body pressing closer, a slight tremble passing
through him like a little quiver and then he settled down again,
back to sleep, his body unmoving.
For a long while I looked at the boy lovingly, his dark hair
glistening in the early morning light as it filtered though the
trees outside the window, steadily getting lighter as morning came.
The boy’s hair is the color of dark mahogany, not black, but a rich
dark brown. His hair is long and slightly curly and it lay tousled
on the white pillow and over my shoulder. It is soft like silk but
it has a surprising amount of body in it. His eyes were closed, his
eyelids almost translucent, his eyebrows long and thin, almost
feminine. The boy’s lips are pale and full and they are open
slightly, revealing perfectly shaped white teeth. His skin is much
darker than mine, a golden-bronze from head to toe, not even a shade
lighter at his thighs and hips because for the last two months he
has spent almost every afternoon in the nude. He tans beautifully
but he has the advantage of his heritage. His rich dark tan comes
from our two months together on Phaenon. I should explain that
Phaenon is our 34 foot yacht. Built in Canada in 1990 and engineered
to one of the highest standards in the world, the boat is something
Rafael and I treasure for the wonderful times that we have shared
aboard it. This summer we spent two and a half glorious months
cruising down the Inter-coastal Waterway to Florida, and then
across to the Bahamas and the other islands of the Caribbean. We
returned only two days ago.
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Jag’s hands, freed from duty ion the cock, slid easily over Anton’s body, massaging, pressing, brushing, tickling. He knew all of
the right spots to give attention to. When his mouth had carried Anton
beyond any chance of refusing, his fingers explored his anus – tickling the puckered hole till it relaxed. Then an exploring finger entered, searching for the walnut shape that was the prostate gland -
the seat of orgasm. When the shattering, shuddering climax came, that
gland was stimulated from inside and outside. The other hand wrested
the last ounce from the balls as the flood of seminal fluid exploded
from the spunk store, crashing through the prostate, to fly in spasmodic wads up through the straining, surging shaft, filling Jag’s
mouth and throat faster than he could cope with it, and flooding out
down the sides of the pulsing, dying rod. Later Jag licked him completely clean – ready for the companion whom Anton would certainly now
accept to share his bed for the night…
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Anton was indignant at first, but the idea had been planted in his
mind, and soon spread to his loins. Though his mouth refused, his penis showed a different opinion. It soon became clear that he would
have to allow Jag to help him for there was to be no privacy for self
relief. And the painful hardness showed relief was necessary. Anton
submitted to Jag’s hands. Jag expressed a wish to help him enjoy himself as much as possible. When the act was thoroughly underway, and
his hands were controlling Anton to a near climax, he had suggested
that Anton allow him to use his mouth to make the act even more pleasurable. Anton, who if in a less excited state who most certainly have
recoiled from the suggestion, gave a silent acquiescence to Jag, whose
warm mouth soon enclosed his shaft.
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Jag had then taken his clothes off and had lain on his bed reading. After a while he expressed surprise that Anton was still dressed
and asked him if he were feeling cold. He explained that the heating
in the rooms was automatically increased in the later evenings. Anton
had then removed all but his underpants.
It was fairly obvious that Anton had been observing Jag’s body,
and Jag had been trying his best to show his best features without
making it too obvious that he know he was been examined. Clearly Anton
was too virginal to make any overtures, so Jag took the initiative. He
asked Anton if he had had sexual release that day. He stated that he
would be obtaining relief himself with a friend later, but stated that
he would be happy to assist Anton if he required it, and that he would
try to have the another friend fetched so that Anton could have someone to sleep with himself if he desired.
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But Klaudio gave the merest touch with the side of his bent fore-
finger to the underside of the glans. The corona of the penis flared.
He moved his other hand to cup above the shaft, as if warming himself
at its heat. Then slowly he began a two hand movement – the lower hand
a gentle fist the lower joints of whose fingers formed a knobbly flat
platform moving along the underside of the penis, while the other hand
formed a coving arched over the fist, gently trapping the shaft be-
tween them. Slowly it moved up and down the tool, sometimes gripping
enough to move the skin over the hard shaft, sometimes barely grazing
it. Sometimes the hands would move at different speeds, chafing the
surface; sometimes the knuckles or the joints of the fist would be
brought into play, their harder knobbles kneading the surface.
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But Klaudio knew what he was doing. He had become a doctor with a
friendly but detached beside manner. He looked at Anton’s face more
than his organ, obviously concentrating hard on his pronunciation.
Then he decided to go for it. With one hand he made the unmistakeable gesture on the forefinger of his other of frigging, and repeated
the word for wank three times. He looked expectantly at Anton. “Do you
want me to wank you.” It was a neutral request – still the friendly
doctor offering treatment. Anton froze. Klaudio looked at him patiently, and was just at the point of asking again, when Anton grabbed
at his hand and pulled it into the general vicinity of his groin. He
closed his eyes, flung his head back and gripped the sheets. The patient was tensed for the cut of the knife!
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Too late did his ball hand clutch for the towel, for the first wad
was already airborne, flying to land above his navel. The twist of his
body sent the second jetting to a splatter on the side mirror. He was
obviously very full, for the third spasm also sent a glob into the
air, landing on his still pumping wrist. He spasm again and again, but
this time producing floods of more liquid spunk which flowed warmly
down onto the top of his hand. He spasmed a six and seventh time too,
but this time nearly dry – just a wide working of the glistening eye
of his dick. Then the pent-up breath was released.
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He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand
down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod
of iron. His technique was obviously practised, but unsophisticated.
Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled -
full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the
curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As
the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting.
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The first stage of erection was complete, the ridge of skin below
the corona disappearing into smoothness as the penis filled to its
last inch. He used the towel to remove some of the stickiness from his
plum, wincing a little at the touch of the rough cloth.
Still Anton just lay there, admiring what was certainly very much
to be admired. Then he reached up for a picture book, the stiff member
wobbling in its weak rooting as his upper body arched. He brought the
picture of one beauty to the surface of the bed beside his loins. He
held the open book above his midriff for a long time, look at it, but
making no attempt to stimulate his organ. Apart from the occasionally
pulsing which is natural in an unattended erection, there was no obvious reaction in his tool.
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He transferred his forefinger to the other side of the shaft, and
hooked it below it, supporting it so that the glans, by now doubled in
size, was raised up. His thumb rubbed the upper surface of the shank,
and more fingers joined in the support. He took the hand away, to re-
assure himself of the presence of the towel, to catch the sperm and
perhaps to cover himself in case of an intrusion. When he removed his
hand, the shaft supported itself.
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I hadn’t had a lot of experience but I’ve sucked and been sucked
and I jacked off with one of my friends and
not just a few times.
We talked some more. I hadn’t really thought about doing
anything with Jamey but as our
legs sometimes touched, it certainly crossed my mind. At first I
wasn’t comfortable talking about sex with a nearly naked guy in my sleeping bag but he brought it up. He asked me
when was the first time I’d had sex.
“You mean with a girl?” I didn’t even think about the
ramification of what I had said. He paused.
“No…with anybody.”
I thought about it for minute. “Well, I fooled around when I was
about nineteen with a girl but we didn’t do much….When I was about
your age…I’ll admit it…I had a jack off friend. He was my
best friend. It was better than doing it alone.”
Jamey didn’t say anything and that worried me…here I was in a
sleeping bag with him and both of us were in our underwear.
“Does that bother you?”
“No…I have a friend who asked me if I wanted to watch him jack
off…but I just didn’t want to…I’m not sure why.”
I prodded him. “You WERE a little curious, tho, weren’t you?”
“Yeah….I’ve thought about it some since then.”
“Yeah…that’s how we started out.”
“You did it more than once?” Jamey asked.
“Did you guys ever suck each other?” Jamey was getting pretty
curious…more than just a little, I thought.
“Yeah…and this has making my dick hard…are you sure you wanna
talk about this?” My honesty sometimes even takes me by
surprise.
“Well we don’t have to…I’m just curious,” he answered.
“Well, if you’re that curious, we can do more than talk…I don’t
mind at all.”
“Well, I’m a little shy…that’s okay.”
I turned onto my side and faced him. And I reached over and
grabbed his outside arm and gently pulled him towards me so he
then rolled over and we were face to face.
“I’m not so bashful,” I whispered. “But what about Chad?”
“Hey, he’s out like a light…always is.”
I moved my legs and slipped one between his calves just below the
knees. Jamey was much shorter than I. And I reached my hand
down, found his penis and gave him a little squeeze through his
underwear. He was hard.
“You’re not CURIOUS…you’re READY,” I giggled quietly and then I
massaged his dick some more. It was sticking straight towards me
under his shorts. Then I reached for his hand which was still at
his side and brought it down to my own hard cock. He squeezed my
meat and I went back to squeezing his. He started jacking me
off.
“Go easy, pal” I said. “Lets make this last.” I couldn’t see
his face in the darkness of the tent but I heard his exhale so I
knew he grinned. “I’m getting plenty warm in here now, Jamey”
“That’s for sure,” he agreed. I stopped playing with his dick
and ran my hand across the top of his hip and to his waist and
back.
“Let’s get out of these…lift your hips up.” He did and with
that, I reached down and slipped his underwear down onto his
thighs. He kicked them down and as he did so, I slipped my own
jockeys off. “Total body,” I said and I pulled his shirt up
towards his arms. He took the cue and leaned away from me and
slipped off his shirt. When he finished, I did the same.
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I sat facing him. We talked a few minutes but very few for it
was getting too chilly. I followed his lead and slipped into my
bag as he got into his own. The opening of the two bags faced
each other so we laid there face to face and talked. I really
was cold because I wasn’t used to this and I told him I wasn’t
sure I was going to be able to survive.
“I need somebody to keep me company in here…to warm me up,” I
ventured.
“Well, Chad and I used to sleep together…it IS warmer that
way.”
The prospect of warming up next to Jamey warmed me for a couple
reasons. “Well I sure don’t mind if YOU don’t….youre place or
mine?”
Jamey’s eyes twinkled, innocently, I think. “Your place…you’ve
got the bigger sleeper. He unzipped and then I did and I opened
up the sleeping bag for him. Jamey opened his all the way and
spread it out on top of us to make a top cover and then he
crawled in. There was plenty of room in this bag for me but when
he got into it and zipped us up together, it was cozy. We’d
brought pillows from the house so we were comfortable enough but
as we laid on your backs, we were touching and I admit to
enjoying that touch. I had told him earlier about my experiences
with girls but I didn’t tell him that I also enjoy boys too.
Gay Gym Encounter
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and drew in my breath, preparing myself for
the next set. Looking up to begin, I gasped at what I saw.
It was him! He was here! The most gorgeous guy I knew was a mere twenty feet
away from me! Quickly, I pulled my gaze away, fearful that he would register
the fact I was staring at his wonderful form.
Occasionally I had seen him here at the University gym, I knew not his name or
his department, but I knew i adored him. He seemed to normally go at a
different time to me; I prefer to exhaust myself last thing at night, after the
days labs and classes, the few times I was able to go through the day, were the
times I had seen him previously. Usually I excercised in solitude, now there
was another in the otherwise quiet, empty gymnasium.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over to his amazing physique. Dressed in
a pair of black cotton rugby shorts and a black training vest his deeply tanned
body rippled with muscle from head to toe, making my athletic body look puny in
comparison. Wih every stride of his tree-trunk thighs the muscled bunched and
quivered, striations criss-crossing the deep v-shaped seperations. As he
breathed the thin vest strained against a huge, deep chest, matched by his
barn-door shoulders and massive arms dwarfing a tiny waist below.
To cap it all, the bastard had the face of an angel!
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I’m sitting in my chair, nursing a vodka tonic, a drink I don’t
really like but makes me feel more mature, and I notice this guy’s been
looking at me for about twenty minutes now and while at first he made me
uncomfortable, I’m slowly getting used to it. The song they’re playing is
called “Fingerfoc” and it’s by a band that calls itself Friends of
Carlotta. I don’t know what this means but it is danceable nonetheless.
I want to get up and dance, but I don’t want to leave my drink
sitting there and they’re not allowed on the dance floor–drinks that is.
I look back to my right and he’s still looking at me. He maintains the
stare long enough to let me know he’s looking at me and then I guess he
get’s nervous because he turns and looks away after a few more seconds.
I suck down the last of the vodka and then take an ice cube into my
mouth before getting up to dance to “Warlock” by Skinny Puppy. I have this
problem with the video that accompanies this song because it is so
outrageously violent and sadistic, but somehow I’m still drawn to it. I
wish I could explain the emotion.