Back in school, about sixth grade, my best friend was Doug. We would ride our bicycles everywhere and read car magazines. We both played music and I remember one day in Junior High, we talked our teacher into letting us sing a duet in front of class. We would both go into Marching Band in high school. That was before events ended our getting together.
Yes Doug was my first crush, even though I did not understand it at the time. I was just learning about sex. Learning that other boys also knew how to play with themselves, it wasn't just my own secret.
But I remember that night in sixth grade. Doug was going to spend the night, a sleepover. My family was asleep and it was just the two of us talking.
I knew nothing about why I was feeling excitement. I knew nothing about hormones or puberty. However I quickly agreed to try playing “strip poker”. The problem was neither of us knew how to play cards and the whole thing took so much time. We decided instead to play “strip craps”.
I remember sneaking glances at Doug's smooth skin, his chest and bare legs, wondering what they felt like.
We started with the usual penalties, tasks we had to do naked. Like sneak around the house outside: or walk out to the mail box in the street and touch our bare dicks to it.
Then Doug had the great idea of “feeling up” the other guy for a timed five minutes. Then quickly rolling the dice again! What a scary, fantastic feeling when he put his hand around my dick! This guy was good. He knew what he was doing.
But we each knew we had to be careful. We couldn't do anything that would make the other think we were “queer”. God what pressure! What discoveries were happening!
Before I knew it, I found I had built up a need inside. I needed to make Doug feel good. To see his face as his body erupted. What was happening to me?
Then after what seemed like hours, Doug looked into my eyes and said “blow me”. I looked down at his body. I remember how his bones made a ridge just below his waist. I had no idea what I was doing.
As I put my face close to his cock, the aroma hit me. I had never been intoxicated so I didn't know that was what was happening. I knew I wanted that so much. I licked my lips, didn't want my mouth dry.
Electricity flowed through me with that taste. I ran my tongue around his crown. I wanted so deeply to be the best he ever had. My mouth slid down about half way on his shaft. I tightened my lips... Then I blew as hard as I could!
Don't laugh! I had no idea. I was mortified -- humiliated. Come on guys: how in the world was an eleven year old boy to know that a blow job meant sucking? Why the hell call it that. It was just mean!
Looking back, now long ago, I can see the humor, but then I was afraid Doug would never let me near him again!
I had no way of knowing that he was as horny as I was and wanted it as much! So he showed me how to do it.
He grabbed my dick in what I would call a “def-con 5” grip and put his warm mouth on it. I swear my eyes rolled into the back of my head. God, this was so much better than “rubbing one out”! I could hardly wait the 5 minutes until my turn.
Neither of us watched the clock. Time did not matter, his dick was back in my mouth. His taste was flooding my senses. I did everything I could think of to make him cum. I wanted it so bad.
But then I noticed my jaw was getting sore. I wasn't used to this. I loved it, but was sure I was running overtime. Still he had not given me his magic juice. I needed it so bad. But after awhile my preteen jaw had to rest.
Just as soon as I lifted my head, Doug shot in the air. It went over his stomach and his balls. Damn, I wanted to taste that. I wanted to lean back into that wonderful bit of heaven, to suck every drop off his body. But I couldn't do that without reveling myself as a queer! I had to hide that deep secret. That was even more important than this new found joy.
We had other sleep overs. The dice were forgotten as was my dick. We would strip, climb into bad and I would go for his rod. I learned the techniques by trial and error. I savored my rewards, sometimes holding his cum in my mouth and taking a deep breath like I had seen an expert tasting fine wine.
The mornings after were filled with guilt and fear that I couldn't do this again. I was not supposed to feel this wonderful feeling. It was very bad. I kept this gnawing hunger deep inside.
In high school, Doug started dating girls and we drifted apart. But that memory, his smooth young bare tummy, that taste and smell still can warm my coldest night.
Maybe ten years latter, I went back to my hometown and looked him up. We sat in my car talking about our lives. I confessed I was gay and had such a big crush on him. He was mortified! Saying he was sorry if he “turned me that way”.
I could only thank him for teaching me the things I love to do most in life!