Archive-name: FirstGay/ftg004.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Finally, he was mine.


In the sixth grade I transferred to another school and was faced
with the usual problems of adjusting to new courses and teachers
and with trying to decide who of my new classmates I would like to
get to know better.  Even at age 10 I realised that I found no attraction
for girls, and that I held an unusual "admiration" for those boys
that seemed to stand out in my mind above the rest.  It was at the
end of my first week at school that I met Bobby.  We were always
friendly with one another but never close friends.  That was in the
sixth grade.
As elementary school passed into junior high, and that in turn became
those final four years, things changed.  By the eleventh grade Bobby
and I had somewhere along the way fallen into the same circle of
friends.  For some reason, none of us dated with any kind of frequency.
Actually, they were the ones that seldom dated.  I NEVER saw the
need for any sort of female companionship.  Over the years of junior
high, my sexual awareness and male oriented desires rapidly developed.
By the eleventh grade, I was pretty well experienced in most forms
of man loving activity.  I guess I was pretty lucky, as I never truly
experienced any sort of painful or guilt-ridden "coming-out" period.
For me, being gay was as natural as the development of my muscles
and the sprouting of thick, soft hair under my arms and around the
maturing dick I jacked-off so frequently.  All through that period
of growth also evolved an almost obsessive goal to one day take
Bobby to bed.  As our junior year progressed, I began to see a strong
possibility of getting what I wanted.
Our friendship grew very close to the point of often excluding our
other friends from our Friday and Saturday nights of party filled
mischief.  It wasn't uncommon for us to spend those nights together
at one or the other's house, so of course I had ample opportunity
to see him naked, often.  In fact, he really didn't care too much
for clothing, choosing to spend any reasonably safe time either alone
or with me in nothing but his underwear if even that.  God, was he
ever hot: a boyishly handsome face with piercing deep brown eyes,
thick dark hair, and that "all round athlete" type body that was
perfectly muscled.  But the ace of the whole package was his legs
and the cock that hung between them.  Strong, high arched feet supported
a pair of super-defined thickly formed calves and thighs.  If you
ever watch pro soccer then you get the idea.  We used to talk all
through the night and at first I actively contributed to the conversation
but would soon find myself looking up and down his legs, from the
feet slowly upward along the inside of his hairy legs, taking in
every detail of them, feeling my heart beat faster and my temperature
increase.  As he would be rambling on and on about who knows what
in a stoned or drunken haze, my eyes and imagination would be licking
the tops of his inner thighs, visualising my hands brushing back
and forth through the extra thick hair that was there cushioning
his free swinging sack of balls and that dick he loved to show off.
In the beginning, I don't think he realised that I would be sitting
or lying around near him getting hornier and hornier, always having
to devise some way to at least try to conceal my inevitable hard-on.
Hell, he saw us as just best friends, nothing implied by these long
fucked-up nights and nude caucuses.  We could talk to each other
about anything and sex was often a popular topic.  There was always
the juvenile mentions of this girl or that girl and that one's boobs
and this one's pussy.  He would talk and describe; I would occasionally
voice a token comment or two, but my real conversation wasn't with
regards to what he was saying.....I was talking to the prettiest
crotch in the world and patiently waiting for his thick hunk of dick
to respond.  And he never caught on.....at first.
One Saturday night near Christmas of that year we had gone home to
his house after a long night of partying.  We were pretty fucked
up, but much more high than drunk.  After a while of talking, listening
to music and whatnot, we decided to watch television, and that always
meant getting in bed and soon passing out.  Naked as usual, we climbed
in and started looking for something to watch.  Nothing.  A really
boring night on the tube.  I was feeling pretty grungy after hours
of partying, so I got up saying that I was going to go take a shower.
I think that I really planned to beat off, but the steam coming from
the hot water started feeling so good that I jumped on in and started
lathering up.  I pointed the nozzle away so I could get my crotch
really soapy and slick.  So there I was, yanking on my growing meat
with one hand and playing with my perked-tits with the other when
Bobby came barging in (I forgot that he wasn't too drunk and then
remembered how high and horny he seemed).  Over the water I heard
him saying that a shower didn't sound like a bad idea at all and
would I please hurry up.  What I couldn't see through the hot mist
and shower door was his cock, hard and rude, being firmly massaged
with his hand.  I quickly shut off the water, praying that my own
erection would subside enough to not lash out at him when I had to
reach for the towel.  When I opened the shower door, I saw Bobby
with his big legs spread wide, one foot propped-up on the seat of
the toilet, the other on the floor, and the best hard-on I had ever
seen him come up with oozing big thick strands of juice that slowly
dripped from his pisser, down his thighs, and onto the floor.  He
was just standing there, staring with a horny lust-filled look that
I had only hoped ever to see.  Watching him slowly pump the pre-
liminary jizz from his bulging rod, I either forgot or gave up on
any pretense of hiding my own cocked-toy.
"You look about like I feel," he said, increasing his hold and his
stroking.  "Why don't you come on out of the shower and see if we
can't `talk' about a few more things, like all the things we've never
let our dick's say to each other; I mean, mine's been wanting to
talk to your's for almost as long as your's has mine."
That son of a bitch.....for how long he had wanted the same thing
that I did, I really don't know....but I sure as hell didn't care.
He insisted on helping me out of the shower by grabbing me at the
base of my cock, his rough hand encircling my shaft and balls.
I was pulled out of the shower and into that heaven, touching his
sweaty, strong scented body, landing right between his legs, hard
horny crotch to hard horny crotch.  For a minute, we just stood there

Message #5
To: all
Subject: Part II

not hesitating, just magnifying each other's apparent months and
years of yearning and lust.  And then it really started.
I felt his arms starting to reach around and engulf me.  I didn't
waste a minute in doing the same.  My lips moved on to meet his.
We kissed hard and wet, letting our tongues eat each other out,
going in and out of our mouths, pulling back a little to see our
mouth cocks momentarily hold onto our hot spit before letting it
slowly drip down our chins and roll slowly down our bodies and start
wetting-up our already sticky crotches.  We pumped our pelvises as
far and as hard into each other as we could.  I pulled my mouth away
from his, aiming towards his armpits.  I couldn't wait to finally
really smell and taste Bobby after a long day of "jocking around"
and partying out.  That scent made my cock grow so fucking big I
thought I would soon explode...but I had to hold it back.  I wasn't
going to waste any of this first time.  We wrestled and tugged with
every part of our bodies as possible, finally falling to the floor
of the bathroom.  My head moved on to his tits and I sucked them
like no other starving baby could.  I let my thick spit pool-up
on his chest and then smeared it all over his chest and stomach,
eating out his belly's tight hole.  I felt his throbbing hunk of
meat pulsing under my chest and throat.  I was humping the hell out
of the tile floor.  As I moved on to my payoff, he swung himself
around and started tounging the tip of my dick, drinking as much
of the hot dripping prespunk as he could get.  I pushed my mouth
down hard on his cock, making it go in down to the hilt so I could
smell his heated crotch, just like I had fantasized for years.  He
bucked and bucked his meat in and out of my throat and then pulled
it out, commanding me to eat his balls, to get them wet and slimy,
to suck them till they turned blue.  I did.  All the while he was
getting hotter and faster with my piece of meat.  He ate the piss
slit like I had only imagined it could be done.  His tongue and lips
fucked that little hole, making the hottest mix of jizz and piss
to come spewing out at erratic intervals, infrequency turning to
steady streaming.  We were both getting so fucking hot.  Closer and
closer to coming.  Our bodies were bucking and pumping each other
in every part and hole possible.  Faster and faster our breathing
was coming.  Our bodies were convulsing in sex tensed spasms.  I
knew it and he knew it that IT, everything we were "shooting for"
was about to do just that.  In the strongest hold and the hottest
lip fucking kiss that either of us had ever dreamed of, we both shot
our loads, cords and strands of hot stinking cumm, reeking of all
the lust filled time we had been friends.  We showered in each other's
sticky sperm, trying to lick and eat everything that we could lap
up.  We sucked and tongued to get the last drops that could be had,
slowing our pace little by little until we were just grinding into
each other slowly, now and again, but each holding the other as tight
as we could.  With the sound of Bobby's hot heavy panting I finally
let my head come to rest on the upper inner part of his hunky thigh.
With my arms holding his chest tightly, the ether of his sex soaked
dick and balls put me to sleep.  I remember dreaming that I hoped
to never wake up, but if I did, let this be a never ending way of
life for the two of us.  That was fifteen years ago, and Bobby and
I still find the time, even in the hectic life of an adult to do
this same sort of thing at least four times a week...Hopefully soon
I can tell you about some of the other "firsts" that he and I explored.
It's a good thing that we appreciate the virtues and values of having
a large tile-floored bathroom, and have never really grown up in
some ways....after all, we have one of the best playrooms in town.

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