The most memorable _s_e_x_ual encounter of my youth was when I was 19 or 20, with the lover of one of my best friends.
It wasn't planned, at least not on my part. It started one afternoon at work. Terry and Mark had recently begun working in the same office supply business where I toiled writing up back orders. We had gotten to know each slightly, and when I ran into them at the local queer bar one weekend, I was delighted to have a couple of gay friends at the office.
We began to socialize more as time went on, and they had me over for dinner now and then, or we d all go to a movie. Of the two, Terry was the one I was most attracted to. Like me, he was short in stature (I m 5' 5 , and I think Terry was maybe 5' 3 or 5'4), but he was better built. He'd grown up on a farm, and he had the good muscle tone you'd expect from a life of heavy labor. He had no ass to speak of; when Mark commented on his tiny posterior one night, Terry shot back, "Does it have a hole in it? If it does, what are you complaining about?"
Terry had the face of an angel. His features were angular, and he wore a cute little mustache. This was 1980, so his dirty-blond hair was parted in the center and feathered. Terry was slender and lithe, and his eyes were both kind and _s_e_x_y. He was also more intelligent than Mark, who didn't always speak -- or think -- as well as his lover. Terry was 23 and Mark 26, but it was obvious immediately that Mark was nowhere near as emotionally mature as Terry.
Although I gravitated toward Terry personally (and romantically), Mark had even greater _s_e_x_ual appeal.
He was as tall as Terry was short. Close to 6", he was long and lean, with black hair (also parted in the middle), a cute face which also ported a mustache a nicely defined chest, and a pair of perfectly formed legs tapering down from a butt to die for. Mark wore tight brush denims that accentuated his curves, hugging his hot bottom like a well-made glove. He was a pleasure to watch, either coming or going.
Before he met Mark, Terry had been involved with a guy who, among other things, dealt marijuana. This character was apparently so pissed at Terry for leaving him that he reported him to the police as a dealer (!). Which is why the cops came to the office that afternoon and arrested Terry.
I d seen the cops around that October afternoon, but I didn't know why they'd been there. Mark came into my office a few minutes later and told me the whole story. I didn't have a great deal of money saved up, and Mark was poorer than I was, but we both wanted to get Terry out on bail as soon as we could. We contacted a bail-bondsman, who informed us it would cost $400 to get Terry out of jail.
Mark and I went to my bank and I drew out the last $150 I had. We called Terry s sister, who said she could raise the $350 we needed, but would be unable to do so before the next afternoon. So, despondent over Terry s fate, we went back to Mark and Terry s rented house, where Mark cooked us dinner and we sat half-watching a movie on cable. (It was "The Brinks Job" with Peter Falk. Odd what we remember.)
After dinner, Mark rolled us each a joint (ironic, under the circumstances) and we got pleasantly buzzed. Well, he got buzzed; I was so unused to pot I got royally snockered. When he asked if I would stay with him overnight because he didn't want to sleep alone, I said, "Sure." I didn't want to drive when I was that high anyway.
After we washed the dishes, the pot had dulled our brains and we were both ready for bed. I asked him if I should sleep on the couch, and he looked at me curiously.
"I meant I wanted you to sleep with me," he said. "I'm not used to sleeping alone."
We went to his and Terry s bedroom then, and without turning on the light-switch, Mark stripped naked and climbed into bed. I turned on a bedside lamp and was busy taking my contact lenses out of my eyes, so I didn't get to see much of Mark's flesh, which I was sorry about. Too self-conscious to get completely nude, I slipped off everything except my white cotton underpants, and climbed in next to Mark, saying goodnight and lying on my belly as I always do.
This made me extremely conscious of my _c_o_c_k_, which was growing hard from Mark's presence so close to me in bed. I tried to get comfortable, but I found myself intensely aware of his warm, naked body beside me. The effect of the pot combined with the proximity of his desirable flesh made my heart race and my _c_o_c_k_ expand even further.
I rolled over onto my back, desperately trying to calm myself enough to sleep. When I felt his leg against my own, I shuddered slightly, fighting the urge to throw myself on top of him. Instead, I gently moved my leg away. I figured that Mark's leg had brushed mine by mistake. After all, this was his and Terry's bed, and his lover was in jail!
Minutes passed, and then I felt Mark's hot thigh touching mine. I briefly considered moving again, but all at once I admitted to myself that what I had thought was happening -- what I wanted to happen -- was taking place. Mark was making advances to me in Terry s absence. And I wasn't about to stop it from happening! I threw my thigh over his and waited, my chest heaving, my heart thudding, my _d_i_c_k_ throbbing and my breath catching.
Before long he moved again, entwining my leg with his and rolling over until his face was next to mine and he pushed himself over. I felt his breath coming in hot waves on my skin as the heat poured off his body. And suddenly, we were kissing.
His hands clutched at me and pulled me to him. I felt my body sail into his, my chest against him, my thighs encircled by his own. I felt his _c_o_c_k_, hard, as it nestled against my slender belly. As we kissed, Mark's hands roamed down my back and rested on my butt. His palms slipped beneath the elastic band of my shorts and I was thrilled to feel his callused hands kneading my bottom. He slipped my briefs down, and I hefted my body up slightly to allow them to fall past my intense erection. When I fell back again, my _c_o_c_k_ was free and doing battle with his own hefty rod as we writhed and kissed.
Mark rolled me over and I kicked my shorts off from around my ankles. Unencumbered at last, I was free to enjoy the feel of my total nakedness against his. His lips descended again and kissed my mouth with urgency.
Although Terry had only been away a few hours, Mark made love to me like a man starved for _s_e_x_; his hands were everywhere at once. First his mouth was clamped over mine as our tongues collided and I thrilled to the feel of his throbbing erection against my own. He kissed me wildly, biting my lips, shoving his tongue into my ears and then slamming it back into my mouth. Then his lips ranged down to my neck and onto my tits. He suckled my nipples as I writhed beneath him, then lowered his face to my belly. He shoved his tongue inside my navel as his beard stubble pressed against my belly, driving me crazy with desire before slowly licking his way back to my chest. Now he began to work over my tits again before nuzzling my neck once more.
Without warning, he pulled me up off the mattress and slammed his body down, bringing me with him. As I knelt over him, my _c_o_c_k_ stabbing at the air, his mouth fastened down on my throat.
His lips were a hot, sucking vacuum on my neck as his hands gripped my butt-cheeks and he slid his index finger between them, grazing my asshole. I lay atop him as his lips suckled my neck feverishly, causing the sap to rise dangerously high in my balls. I was going to cum!
In my late teens, I would sometimes become so excited by _s_e_x_ I'd have a premature ejaculation. This was one of those unfortunate times. I tried to hold it back, but it rose anyway, and my excitement peaked. Poised over Mark, I came, my throbbing _d_i_c_k_ splashing his belly with a spray of hot, pulsing jizz.
I was immediately embarrassed, and angry at myself for my over-excited arousal, but Mark didn't care. He just kept kissing me, reaching one hand out to yank on my wet _c_o_c_k_, pumping out the last drops of cum. Then he carefully wiped us off with a towel. He tossed it away and I felt his big, callused left hand cup my balls while the right continued to stroke my bottom. He let go of my nuts and shoved his index finger into his mouth. Suddenly both his hands were drawing my butt-cheeks apart and an excited, wet finger pressed its way toward my anus. Mark slipped the tip of his saliva-drenched finger into my butt, and shoved his tongue back inside my mouth.
He was still beneath me, but now he rolled us both over and lay on top of me, using his busy finger to relax my sphincter as he tweaked my nipples with his free hand. He clamped his mouth down on my neck again and I writhed beneath him, moaning softly and thrusting my pelvis up toward his.
Mark's kisses burned my flesh, the fingers up my rectum -- two of them now -- shooting intense pleasure through my body. He reached for my balls, still tingling from my orgasm, and yanked down on them as I cried out in surprise and delight. I kissed and caressed as much of him as I could manage, but he was so active, so frenzied in his love-making that he could barely keep his arms or thighs or _c_o_c_k_ or balls or butt still long enough to be stroked.
Suddenly, still mauling me with his lips and his hands, he withdrew his fingers from my asshole and lifted me up bodily. He spun us around on the mattress and sent me crashing down again on the bed, hurling his body onto mine. We were now in the opposite direction from where we had been a moment before, and I threw my hands out past the end of the bed, my head snapping back toward the mattress in ecstasy as he kissed my body, sucked my still-dribbling _c_o_c_k_, and ran his strong hands along the surface of my butt. I gazed up in a daze at the light from the street lamp seeping under the blinds, wondering suddenly if there was a full moon.
Then, just as suddenly as before, Mark picked me up in his arms once more and spun us around again. I was sent crashing onto the mattress, only now we faced the closet. Mark s hands remained as busy as his tongue until he picked me up a third time, altering our position again as my head came to rest on the pillow.
He reached for something on the bed-stand, and I heard a lid pop off a jar. I knew what it was, so I was not surprised when his greasy, wet fingers pushed between my ass-cakes. Mark smeared the lubricant around my anus, sliding his Vaselined finger well into my rectum. He withdrew then, and I watched his dim outline in the moon-lit room as he applied a handful of the stuff onto his _c_o_c_k_ and slathered it up.
He reached for a towel and wiped his hands, and the next moment I felt my feet being lifted up over his shoulders. I d only been _f_u_c_k_ed a couple of times, never with pleasure, and I was suddenly terrified he d split me open.
My open butt was level with his crotch as he knelt between my thighs. I felt panic when the lubed-up _c_o_c_k_head kissed my asshole, and I gritted my teeth, preparing for it as he aimed between my butt-cheeks, reared back his ass, arched his back, thrust upward with his pelvis ... and pushed inside.
I wondered when I would begin screaming, but the pot had worked its magic: although I felt him moving inside me until he was embedded fully up my butthole, felt the assault on my hole, felt my ass-lips giving way before the onslaught of his rigid _d_i_c_k_, there was no pain. No discomfort at all, just the wonderful warm full feeling of this hot stud s _c_o_c_k_ sliding its way up my excited young butt.
I wanted him. Oh, god, how I loved Mark s _d_i_c_k_ in my boy-hole! I hadn't caught much of a glance at is so far, since Mark was controlling every aspect of the experience, but I'd seen just enough to appreciate its shape and size. And it was buried to the hilt now, his balls lapping lightly against my bottom, his pubic hair tickling my butt-cheeks. His mouth closed on mine, and I shut my eyes and kissed him gratefully, soulfully, clashing my tongue against his as I moaned in sheer pleasure.
Now he began to _f_u_c_k_ me in earnest. He plowed me like a wild bronco, and I briefly wondered if he was like this with Terry -- if every bed-session with Mark was a kind of consensual half-rape. Because no matter how exciting it was here, now, his big _c_o_c_k_ up my young man-hole, would anyone want this night after night? Or was this a special treat? A variation, something he wanted to do and was seldom able to with Terry? Or was he just pulling out all the stops tonight, just for the hell of it?
(I found out later. Mark was never one to keep his feelings hidden, and he often complained that when they had _s_e_x_, Terry would "roll over and play dead". I could well understand. Mark's voraciousness must have been hard to take after awhile. But I sometimes wished I could be in Terry's place now and then.)
I had never been so fully concentrated on by anyone before. No one had ever gratified me this way -- to the exclusion of everything but the moment, the complete physical sensation, had so tuned it to my body and its pleasure. All this was for later, for reflection at home in my own little bed. Right now I was too busy being _f_u_c_k_ed into next week to think of anything else.
My face was full of Mark, my eyes shut in bliss as we kissed and I felt his frenzied thrusting up my butt -- the unabashed animal frenzy that lifted me off the bed with each upward plunge of his hot _c_o_c_k_. But my eyes flew open instantaneously at the sound and feel of his open palm connecting with my ass-cheek. The sudden pain in my butt was startling, and it turned me on even more. I groaned, pushing my bottom back to meet both his savage _f_u_c_k_-thrusts and his big hand as he smacked me again, the wet sound of greasy palm on sweaty cheek permeating the air around us.
It was as though Mark had discovered my secret: that spanking had always been an unarticulated fantasy of mine, since early childhood. My parents had a small wooden paddle which they seldom used; but I did. They kept the paddle in a drawer of their massive roll-top desk, and I had taken it to my room many times over my boyhood years -- especially when I grew to adolescence.
The wooden tool was decorated with a badly painted scene of a small male figure using a paddle to whack the naked backsides of two young boys. Even though they were enormous, the kids were barely seen in the cartoon. Only their big, blood-red painted butts faced the viewer, the cheeks drawn with what looked like big black asterix with curved lines, almost like huge, forced-perspective butt-holes. Little cartoon stars danced away from their well-spanked bottoms. Looking at the drawing had always created an uneasy feeling in the pit of my pre-_s_e_x_ual stomach, a sort of queasy pleasure that ended as a burning heat in my groin. I didn't understand it, but it thrilled me.
Although the paddle was sometimes used as a threat, I don't think my sister and I ever got swatted by this "Board of Discipline" (as it announced itself on the handle) more than a couple of times. Usually our parents spanked us with their hands, and almost never over the knee. But that only made it more exotic to my youthful imagination. Sometimes I would take the paddle and smack my own butt with it, which only increased the weird pleasure I took in holding it in my hand. As a young child, I'd take it out of the desk when no one was around, drop my trousers and smack my little butt with it.
In my adolescence, I always got a secret thrill from spanking scenes in movies or comic books, especially when a boy was getting it over his father's lap. My own father and I were not very close, but I had a case of the hots on him anyway. I'd occasionally sneak the wooden weapon into my room; with my young _d_i_c_k_ in my hand, I'd imagine spanking scenes involving me and my father and the paddle: my pants would be down around my knees, my belly over his lap and my bubble-butt red and smarting from his attentions to it. I fantasized him whacking my bare ass with his palm while my _c_o_c_k_ got hard and pressed against his thigh. Then I'd take the paddle and smack my naked butt with it, cumming almost instantly from the intensity of the pleasure.
Up until now, it had been an unarticulated desire. But as Mark's large palms continued to connect with my naked sweaty bottom, it was as though I was being given at last what I d always craved but never had the nerve to ask for.
Mark s hands began to smack me in a rhythm with his pelvic motions: spanking and _f_u_c_k_ing, _f_u_c_k_ing and spanking. Pumping and slapping, the smarting, stinging, butt-warming contact growing harder and faster as his _f_u_c_k_ing increased. His hands were greasy from the Vaseline, my bottom was slick with sweat, and the combination made the spanking even more intense.
My ass-cheeks were hot with the unceasing blows, and I pushed my torso upward and forward, thrusting to meet both his hot _c_o_c_k_'s assault on my grasping hole and the warming pain of his huge hands alternately rubbing my bottom and slapping it fiercely. He d slap one butt-cheek, then the other, then rub them both excitedly just before he hit the twin half-melons at the same time with a resounding crack! of wet flesh against wet flesh.
The spanking blows had re-awakened my _c_o_c_k_, and as his _d_i_c_k_ begin to slip almost out and he thrust back inside with a growing intensity, I was completely stiff again. His pulsing _d_i_c_k_ was scraping against my prostate, and as his movements began to grow broader, harder, faster, my excitement rose. The slaps to my bottom also picked up speed as his grunting became louder and sharper. Once more, I felt my body being lifted up from the bed. Once more, I crashed down again. Up again and down, and up again and down, and up again as he built, until he reared back, gave an enormous bellow and slammed up my hot boy-cunt, shooting and shooting as my legs closed tight around his back and shoulders and I clenched my sphincter as tightly as I could on his spurting _d_i_c_k_ as my own aching _c_o_c_k_ exploded between our bellies.
Even as our orgasms drained away, Mark continued rhythmically slapping my sore bottom, slower now, less forcefully as he panted and rubbed my butt-cheeks and then smacked them again. The blows diminished slowly, his energy decreasing with each smack, until at last he was only caressing my ass and then finally, spent, he sagged and fell on me. He kissed my lips and remained embedded inside my asshole until his _c_o_c_k_ finally softened and slipped out as I sighed, my body shuddering in pleasure, and kissed his cheek, completely contented.
We lay smoking cigarettes in the sweet after-glow, Mark shook his head in disbelief.
"I thought when I said I wanted you to sleep with me, you knew what I meant!"
I shook my head no and smiled dreamily.
"Sometimes, I m a little naive," I said, blushing slightly.
I told Mark I d heard people talk of fireworks before, but now I really knew what they meant.
Next morning while I was at work, my assistant took one look at me and asked what the hell had happened to my neck. Did I run into a door or something? Puzzled, I went to the men's room and pulled down the opening of my heavy sweater. There were two sizeable, deep purple hickeys on my neck. I chuckled to myself and went back to work.
We got Terry out of jail that afternoon. When we got him home and he'd showered, we all relaxed with some beer. Then Terry's sister asked me what had happened to my neck. While I tried to stammer out an answer, Terry -- with a knowing twinkle in his eye -- asked if my girl-friend had given me those hickeys. I blushed and Terry smiled in complicity. He knew _d_a_m_n_ good and well who'd given me those marks on my neck. Who would have known better than him?
I never slept with Mark again, although Tony asked me to move in with them that night, and a week later I did.
Mark and Terry broke up over the next year, and I felt torn by my desires. I was in love with Terry (it wasn't reciprocated) but I had the hots for Mark. I think of him now and then, and wish we could have had just one more night together. As much as his _f_u_c_k_ing inflamed me, I'd have loved even more for him to have taken me over his knee.
I may have had better _s_e_x_ over the years, but I've never had a more memorable night of passion since. When I think of Mark now, it's always with a smile on my lips ... and a slight phantom stinging in my butt.