Archive-name: Samesex/19-class.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Peter Was 19 With A Lot of Class

     I met a guy through a personal column, and he came over to my
place one night to get acquainted.  We were sitting there that
night, having a drink, with the lights low, and we walked to my
bedroom window.  There was a guy across the lane, jacking off. 
Boy, was Peter surprised.

     Up to that time, besides my preoccupation with solo-sex, my
sexual experiences had all been with guys who went on to date girls
and marry.  Peter identified himself right from the beginning as
being gay, and made it clear that he had never been interested in
girls and never would be.  He had advertised for a "male friend",
and I had answered.

     Peter was exactly my height, 6'2", of European extraction, and
spoke with a slight accent.  He had a lot of class, and I found him
very attractive, although just a bit feminine in his speech and
mannerisms.  He was nineteen, with dark hair and striking features,
and I must say I was pleased with his broad shoulders, extremely
small waist and moderately large basket.  He was wearing grey
flannel slacks and a T-shirt, and I was wearing a T-shirt and white
jeans.

     To our mutual surprise, he had gone to the same high school
as I did, although neither of us recalled seeing the other there. 
He was two years behind me and had gone to that school when his
family moved to this country, while I had moved to that town when
I entered the eleventh grade, so neither of us had spent our whole
school life there.

     We were getting to know each other as we moved to my bedroom
window, but we hadn't gotten onto the subject of sex.  He was
startled when he saw the guy across the lane, and he looked at me. 
I told him about the guy seeing me jacking off, and how I'd see
this guy taking care of himself.  We put our drinks down and I
handed him the binoculars, so he could watch the performance.  I
was turned on from seeing the guy across the lane, and also being
so close to Peter.

     When the guy stiffened, I knew he was shooting.  He turned his
light out, and then Peter turned away from the scene across the
lane.  Putting the binoculars down, Peter turned to me and put his
arms around my shoulders as he kissed me and moved his groin
against mine.  It was one firm basket rubbing against another firm
basket.  He reached down and cupped and squeezed my basket through
my jeans.  Then he reached down into my jeans and did the same
thing through my Jockey shorts.

     Withdrawing his hand, he unsnapped my jeans, pulled down my
zipper, and took down my jeans.  I was very excited and tried to
reciprocate, but he pulled away saying, "Not yet." He slid his hand
into my Jockey shorts, rearranging everything so that my shaft was
now vertical, the head rubbing between the shorts and his wrist. 
He went down and gently rolled my balls in his fingers.  We managed
to move together, sideways to my bed, without his ever losing his
gentle grip on my now throbbing hard-on.

     "Now, you can undress me," he whispered, as we snuggled and
rubbed our stubble together.  I peeled the T-shirt out of his pants
and up his chest.  As he stretched his arms over his head I could
see his beautifully tapered chest with the tiny erect nipples.  I
pulled his T-shirt off and we hugged some more while I gently
nipped his nipples and moved my tongue in the finely developed
channels of his gut muscles.  I flipped open his belt, and stripped
his pants and shorts down, taking care to pull them off his feet. 
I sat up and carefully folded his pants, putting them on the
dresser, turning back to see his long, thick shaft lying on his
belly.  But when I went to caress it, he pushed me on my back,
saying again, "Not now."

     He stripped my shorts off me and quickly moved his head down
and onto my shaft.  The initial roughness startled me, but he
gently withdrew and then slowly and with tantalizing changes in
focus, made love to my hard shaft, tonguing the underside of it
especially well.

     "Have you got anything?" he asked.  In my innocence, I
replied, "Like what?" He laughed and explained, "A lubricant.  I'm
very big and don't want to hurt you." I got my tube of K-Y and
squeezed some of the slick, cool jelly on my fingers.

     I was lying on my back as Peter climbed on top of me, his
hands over my shoulders and his knees between my open thighs,
propped up so that his very hard shaft was right above my navel. 
In the dim light, I felt the huge head of his cock.  It was
considerably greater in circumference than his shaft, and was half
out of its foreskin.  As I smoothed the K-Y on, I slipped his
foreskin back down and was thrilled to feel the head swell even
more from the constriction of the foreskin behind it.

     I reached down and put the K-Y in my butt as Peter moved his
knees down, asking me to put my knees up so my legs were over my
head.  He lay down then, his chest on the underside of my legs. 
"Take a deep breath and push down as if you're straining on the
toilet," he whispered, as I felt his head press against my butt. 
The moment I followed his instructions, he pushed his groin forward
and the thick head slipped right in with no pain.  He told me to
let my breath go and to stop pushing down, and then he sank the
whole shaft in with ease.

     "Now, my love, we're going to fly to the moon," he whispered
as he started slow withdrawals and re-entries.  Every few strokes
he withdrew completely and then re-entered.  It was an incredible
feeling, with no pain whatsoever.  My shaft was pressed down
against my belly as he thrust again and again.  As his pace picked
up, he raised his upper body on his arms and, while now violently
thrusting his hips, whispered, "Lower your legs." I did so,
gingerly, until I had my legs around the back of his and he lowered
his chest on mine enough so that our nipples were constantly
brushing against each other as we both thrashed around on the bed.

     I was overwhelmed by the marvel of his body movements.  His
upper body was supported on his elbows.  I swept my hands around
his back to his very substantial shoulders, and then down to his
finely defined chest muscles, which flexed as he thrust.  I tweaked
his nipples as I felt them exciting my own nipples.  As my hands
slid lower on his tapered torso, I felt the ripple of his gut
muscles, into which my stiff shaft was now stabbing.  When my hands
were on his buttocks, realized the sheer beauty of the perfectly
synchronized, machine-like movement of his thrusts.  Each was like
a wave that started at his back and rolled down through the small
of his back, terminating in the drive to his lower pelvis that
stabbed into my butt and drove me wild.

     What kept going through my mind was that Peter was so
effeminate, and yet he declined any passive role in fondling or
stimulation.  Up to that time, my sexual experiences with guys
could all be classified as "horsing around," but with Peter there
was so much tenderness, kissing, hugging, and mutual movement of
our bodies, that I was really feeling sexual love for him.  Before
that, it had only been for thrills.

     He kept up the continuous, steady thrusting into me at the
rate of one per second.  The exquisite sensation on the underside
of my shaft, rubbing up and down against the valley of his gut
muscles, raised me to a pitch that made it hard for me to breathe. 
I groaned, threw my arms around his moving back, and pulled us
together as I felt the throbs of my orgasm, followed by my jism
flowing out of my shaft, flooding our pressed bellies.

     Peter went on, not varying his thrust, still supporting his
upper torso with his elbows as I hugged myself to his muscular
torso.  Our tongues were probing each other's mouths.  My shaft was
so sensitive now that I had cum and his gut was rubbing the
sensitive skin below my head that I was shuddering all over.

     Suddenly he interrupted his thrusting, withdrew the giant head
of his shaft, and then slowly, gently re-entered to the hilt and
stayed there.  I could feel the violent throbs and jerks as he came
with a sigh in my ear.  Then, keeping his shaft all the way in me,
he began a circular motion that was rubbing my prostate.  His hairy
bush was a delectable cushion for my balls.  He lowered his full
weight onto my body, and then moved every muscle in his body
against mine.  I could feel his heart pounding in his heaving
chest.  Our mouths were locked together in the most passionate kiss
I'd ever had yet.

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