It was the promised land, the bridge to a new future.
My first fully reciprocal sexual encounter with a straight guy was with a college friend that had recently gotten separated from his wife. The culmination of this happened when I was 25 and I consider it my first completed sexual exchange. Admittedly, I was a late bloomer. But I have no regrets. This was the first year I began working as a high school counselor and we had several memorable interludes. I knew his former wife and had spent many hours in their house with their small child while all three were finishing college.
His name was Jakie and he was Catholic, just the same as I. Therefore, we had much in common dealings with “guilt issues” the Catholic Church has a penchant for doling out. Before leaving college, we would frequently drink together, as I was almost addicted on the ever affordable “Boone’s Farm Apple Wine” or its kissing cousin “Strawberry Hill”. It had “college student pricing” written all over it and soon became “iconic” among college kids at the time in the early 1970’s for a mere $.89 per fifth when purchased by case and no corkscrew required. It did require ice and a lot of it to get it down.
My dorm room was well-known as the “Boone’s Farm Cathedral and Campus Shrine” as bottles adorned my room as in an art gallery. All those entering my room had to dip their finger into the “holy wine wells” located conveniently by the doorway. People were required to make the “sign of the cross” (just like in professional sports) before kneeling and kissing my class ring(Yes, on my hand and no where else). In fact, I nearly established another Papacy, this time in the “Western Hemisphere-the New World”, needing only another semester to be fully put in place with its bottle-glass windows, scented candles, and all.
Getting back to Jakie, he was a tall, slender, small-waisted with broad shoulders, kind of slightly hairy guy with plump muscular pecks, beautiful hairy legs, and most importantly an originally equipped “fully uncut” cock for the “pièce de résistance”. It represented a new and, as yet, unchartered territory for me to conquer. During the time of my Boone’s Farm period, he would frequent my room as he was having spousal difficulties often seeking refuge from his current marriage with it’s unexpected, unplanned pregnancy consequences. After drinking and listening to records from the Beatles, Joan Baez, Carly Simon, Simon & Garfunkel, Elton John, and the like in a candle lit dorm room late, late into the night, Jakie would by now have his shirt removed exposing his nicely developed chest nature provided him. If lucky for me, Jakie would be reduced to his tighty-whities, as well. Of course, none of this went unnoticed by me. Jakie knew of my Gay leanings through our exhaustive and lengthy talks at night. He himself had revealed that two of his teenage babysitters took great liberty teasing his prepubescent dick with blow jobs while his parents were out dancing or at a movie. His parents never had a clue and he was just old enough to keep these private occurrences to himself and caused him to become sexualized earlier than if left to his own devises.
One night when the moon was particularly bright and coated my room with its luminous glow, I had to make my move to sample his wears, as the opportunity was now right. It started playfully by my outlining the two plump mounds on his chest. Shortly, his two succulent nipples showed a positive response and so I proceeded one-by-one to lightly play with them with my now somewhat pointed tongue. As he was far more hairy as was my taste both then and now, his thick long black chest hairs made me think if only I were a goat, these obstacles to my enjoyment would be out of the way in no time flat. All wishful thinking aside, I now had the daunting task of not making this hair problem too big an issue as there were greater fish to fry off into the horizon.
I don’t know if it was the Boone’s Farm tallking, but he was definitely not resisting. I continued exploring and admired his better than average abs and his rounded muscles on his upper arms. As we came closer to each other on the fold down twin bed, I could tell that he was enjoying me lightly rubbing his stomach, stopping just short of his waistband. I took a glance at the pouch of his tighty-whities and could see the slightest hint of movement stirring about. I guess he was just beginning to respond, that is for a “straight boy”. His stomach had a well-developed treasure trail, more like a super highway with both on- and off-ramps and the occasional Express Lane for “fingers” with their “higher occupancy rate” vehicles. Then, slowly and with the greatest delicacy I could possibly muster, I began my exploration below the waistband and around the less confining leg openings.
From my first samplings both visually and by touch, it presented itself on his horizon what at first glance appeared to be freshly applied blacktop pavement covering most of his pubic triangle. Obviously, this was before the compulsion for “straight boys” to do any manscaping or even the slightest trimming of the hedges. Too bad he wasn’t a long distance swimmer on the swim team, I thought. Like the rocky surface of Afghanistan, I knew I was in for much rough and course terrain. While peaking into these nether regions, I was getting ever bolder and began lowering his waistband. Soon I would be approaching a large object veering sharply off to my right. It was the promised land, the bridge to a new future.
As I continued with the unveiling, his uncut cock began to incrementally raise it’s somewhat foreign looking head. In fact this was my first sighting of a fully grown uncut adult. All the while I was basking in the surrounding area’s musky aroma . Talk about aromatherapy, this was it in it’s fullest and most ultimate manifestation. I breathed deeply enjoying the environment I now found myself in. Finally, I simply could not hold back any longer. Just like bobbing for apples, I lunged to taste his slightly opened foreskin and my mouth embraced even lower the biggest part of his curved shaft. No to the exclusion of others, but I so love the slightly upward curve Jakie possessed. I made a few deep and almost automatic plunges with Jakie along for the ride. Then, with meteoric speed, Jakie stood up and exclaimed, he had to go now! There was no stopping him, despite my protests. He hurriedly dressed and was out my door, totally disregarding dipping his finger in the “holy wine wells” conveniently located at the door.
This tale has of yet not fully unfolded. Return within the fortnight, or maybe sooner, as this unwinds fully to its ultimate resolution.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Cumrag27, aka Stimpy
