Looking Back--Gay Sex Driven, Part 02
Well, that smelly night didn’t dissuade me from further exploitation—or eventually becoming a well-versed dick sucker for that matter either! Hey, you just can’t keep a hard man down, or a good man from moving on up—or something like that I guess.
Well, it’s another summer night and as usually—I’ve got something important on my mind—not to be confused with impotent! Hey at 18, that damn thing has a tough time staying put. It’s like the sucker has a mind of its own…with the rest of my body incidentally attached.
After a good home cooked dinner (one of the benefits), I made my excuses and had a plausible answer to the proverbial question, “Where you off to.” I had a good longtime straight friend/best friend type guy who also was my golf and tennis partner, so it was easy to just past off with, “Yeah, just going over to Mike’s…” or “Mike, Dan (his younger brother—man what a looker!) and I are going to the movies…” or whatever. If Mike only knew how much I took advantage… Actually I sort of paid him back eventually by being best man at his wedding. (I say ‘sort of’ because he divorced the bitch two years later). He’s now happily hen-pecked again for years, but wisely has chosen not to have kids—just dogs and cats.
It’s such a relief—the feeling of pulling the car out of the driveway alone. One of the drawbacks to having the ragtop was that everyone else wanted to either got for a family ride, or borrow it. Trust me—cruising around in my dad’s big old Lincoln just wouldn’t send out the right message—if any. Actually I did get lucky a couple of times…and that big back seat came in real handy don’t ‘cha know. (More on that later…)
Ah, tonight—it’s just me…the open air…and a full tank of gas…and probably about $10 bucks left in my wallet. I was set for whatever the evening could dish out. I’d cleverly covered my tracks and guarded against the eventuality of Mike accidentally calling my house. He was headed out with his girlfriend Linda (yeah, the bitch) so the evening was wide open.
It was still early, so I decided I’d head on over to our favorite group of tennis courts. There were some 12 courts, and I just loved to look at the guys playing—especially when they took off their shirts and broke a sweat. Those glistening, muscular bodies…I’d just sit in my car—with my dick hard. If nothing else, it made for conjuring up some good jack off visions on nights when I went home empty handed. (Okay I was not ever completely empty handed—if you get my drift).
I probably stayed around there for a good two hours, then decided it was just about time for them to closed the courts for the evening, since they were working on installing a new set of lights on the courts, and there were none presently. I was just about ready to pull out when a familiar voice called out from the right side of the car. “Hey Pro, what ‘cha doin’?”
Instantly, I knew I’d have to think fast...or I’d have company—straight company—for the rest of the night and probably do something totally inane like hitting the loop and leering at girls. Bob was a casual friend of mine throughout high school and had been voted most eligible bachelor…he could have—and probably DID have any girl in class he wanted (if the rumors and scuttlebutt were true). I was more the academic type and not as widely popular as Bob was—man he had been in just about every extracurricular activity there was.
Now don’t get me wrong—Bob was very handsome and had a better than average looking body—not over muscular, but defined just the same. He was pretty versatile as far as athletic sports were concerned, but had most active in our school’s drama/theatre, and was one of our first male cheerleaders during the basketball season. His outgoing personality was infectious—he had the uncanny ability to make any stranger feel instantly comfortable and was universally liked by everyone he met. He had had boundless energy and I’d never seen him loose his temper or be in anything but a jovial, positive mood.
I genuinely liked him and at one point had a “thing” for him. What attracted me to him most was his amazing personality and willingness to do all he could for anyone he met. You always knew where you stood with Bob, no backstabbing or funny business. He also sported quite a healthy bulge front and center. I know the girls noticed, and I certainly got an eyeful in his cheerleader’s uniform and during a school production when he had on a pair of leotards. I’d always kind of wondered about him—being interested in theatre and the cheerleading part, but passed it off since he was always surrounded by a bevy of admiring girls. A real lady’s man—and of course, elected eligible bachelor.
Bob was now standing by my passenger door and staring down into the open car. I tried to save face (sort of) by telling him that I’d planned on playing tennis earlier, but Mike and his girlfriend had made other plans. Bob had his tennis racket and bag in tow, but still looked as if he’d not even broken a sweat. He seemed to realize this and volunteered, “Yeah, I got sorta stood up too. Called Alecia at home, and she’d gone out shopping with her friends, apparently forgot all about tennis.”
I had to wonder just why Bob hadn’t driven and picked her up, but that was answered right after I’d thought of it. “Yeah, damn car’s in the shop again—transmission’s slipping…don’t even want to think of the bill.” All the time Bob was talking he was nervously chewing a wad of gum. Damn, I don’t know where he gets all his energy. On a night like tonight…it was almost nauseating.
I then began to realize that given his car was in the shop; Bob had come over to my car possibly for a reason…probably a ride home? So I asked him, “You here with anybody?”
“Nope, dad dropped me here on his way to his council meeting. I figured I’d hitch a ride back with Alecia or somethin’ like that.”
Well, I was fast becoming a “somethin’”…and was obliged to at least offer Bob a ride—hopefully just back home. It wouldn’t be so bad; I told myself that he’d do the same for me (a likely scenario). “Well if you’re ready to pack it in, what say I give you a lift?” I asked.
Bob’s face lit up (if indeed that was possible) with a bigger smile, “Yeah man, that’d be great.” He was already swinging his racket and bag into the back seat. “You know it’s really great being back home… It’s so nice to see green grass and the trees. Arizona’s neat, but nothing much there…just desert.”
This just wasn’t sitting well with me… Here I am staying home for college, and he’s in Arizona… I asked, rather coldly, “Oh yeah, how’s…ugh…ASU, right?” (Like I really wanted to hear all about it).
“Absolutely GREAT! Can’t wait to get back there. I was planning on heading back early; there’s a summer stock play I’d like to do.” Bob chirped along, “It’d also give me extra credit hours and of course you just can’t beat the experience…” He continued to rattle on a bit, but I’d kind of tuned him out as I backed the car out of my preferred viewing spot. I was hoping this would be a short ride home…and was preoccupied in conjuring up a plausible excuse to drop him off and continue my man hunt.
“Hey, what say we knock off a couple brewskies?” It’s the least I can do for ya.”
“Great, it’s settled then, just pull in behind my brother’s red Ford.”
Well, at least Bob was heading home, and I could just leave when I wanted—if I wanted. My options were still open I guessed. Bob’s parents only lived a little over a half-mile from the tennis courts, so we were pulling into the driveway within 5 or 6 minutes. He house was an older one, but absolutely an imposing monstrosity. Since having left home, Bob’s temporary summer quarters was a spare room in the basement. Still it was quite a pad…full access to the entire basement, and a walkout onto the patio and pool deck.
I was a bit surprised to find no one home. Bob had two sisters and a brother—the odds were against solitude. He strode across the main rec-room past the pool table to the bar and counter at the far end. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out two dark brown bottles of “Bud” and flipped off their caps, walking back and handing one out for me. “Wanna play a game?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the pool table.
“Not really, I’m a lousy pool player; (we didn’t have one and I really never was interested in the game). I’d probably just scuff up the felt.” I walked towards the walkout patio doors.
“Hey, no problem. How ‘bout we just got sit out by the pool for a while then?” Bob was already sliding the door open; I just nodded and followed him outside. “Sorry about the pool, dad’s having it sealed and painted. Kind of bad timing, but they’re all booked up later.”
We sat around one of the smaller tables at the far end of the deck. It was a warm night with little or no breeze across the yard. One thing about Bob, you don’t have to want for conversation…I just became a consummate listener. We had our beer’s replenished and Bob decided to pull his shirt off, saying it was a bit “muggy”. I agreed, but kept mine on—I was glad it was muggy—and I was becoming very interested in Bob’s mug…and the tanned torso he was displaying. It occurred to me that the last time I’d even seen him with his shirt off…was probably a couple of years ago in the gymnasium’s locker room. He’d certainly filled out—much more defined and muscular. Thoughts of my eminent departure evaporated.
On the third beer, Bob’s speech cadence slowed—could it be he was running out of things to say? His conversation subject turned to girls…(oh how wonderful)…but then he got kind of glassy-eyed and rambled on… “Ya know, it’s kinda funny, being chosen as most eligible bachelor… Guess I’m workin’ on stayin’ that way. School’s too busy…not much social life happening there last year. And coming home, well, it’s amazing just how everyone scatters. Ron, Frank, Reggie—they all got jobs around school. Not much happening here either.”
He went on to confess that he’d not been “laid” since several weeks before returning home from ASU. He kept talking about Reggie (I’m thinking Regina). He and a guy named Reginald Stephens were always close friends. I assumed they’d both gone different schools—I thought Reggie was some place in Michigan. He then just came out and asked me about my sexual exploits. (Sure—like I was really going to tell him!) I kind of skirted the issue, citing living at home and carrying a full class load while working part time. I basically stated my sex life as being “on hold”.
But the way he was talking about Reggie—it sounded like he had a definite “thing” for her… Then he said with a wink in his eye, “Yeah, I thought so…no girls in the picture…huh. You’re probably into guys…right?”
This revelation caught me mid-swig and beer shot up my nose, and I coughed and sputtered, wiping the foaming beer from my shirt. Shit—what the hell? I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I didn’t know how to play it—what to say—where to even begin. Would I just come out and tell him? I could easily afford to loose touch with him. Bob wasn’t a particularly close friend anyway, and he was going back to school in Arizona—yeah what the…
“That’s okay—you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He smiled, then as if it was some kind of joke says, “Just between you and me…Reggie’s a guy. I guess you could say I’m bisexual…or something like that.”
“You’re talking about Reggie Stephens?”
“No, Reggie’s my roommate at school. He’s also in my acting classes. He’s also doin’ the summer stock thing.” While Bob was saying this, he stood up and moved over to me, “How ‘bout another beer, looks like that one’s a gonner. Why don’t you take off your shirt and I can throw it in the dryer if you like.”
I pulled off my shirt and handed it to him, and Bob headed back inside for two more. When he returned, he handed me a fresh one, then moved his chair closer. “You’ve got a pretty good tan there. You work out?”
“No, just golf and tennis, working in the yard, that kind of stuff…we built a rock terrace in the back yard, maybe that’s where a muscle or two might have come from. I was thinking you’ve added some bulk and muscle yourself.”
“Yeah, sort of, some time in the gym, but most of the exercise comes from the theater classes…you know, dance, choreography… I try to keep in shape. Anyway, you didn’t really answer my question…” Bob scooted his chair next to mine, then took his free hand and patted me on the leg. Then he held it there… “Nice legs…”
His touch was all it took…I popped a boner, which snaked quickly down the left leg of my quite short cutoff Levi’s. I could feel it, but tried not to look. I looked at Bob’s face trying to get a clue as to what he was saying, and then I glanced down and saw that the bulge in his crotch had grown…and there was a wet spot…that didn’t look like it came from drippings off the beer bottle.
Bob slowly moved his hand a few inches up my leg, “Look’s like you have a slight problem…no…make that a BIG problem…” I glanced down and confirmed my worst thoughts…my dick head had plowed past the fringe of my shorts.
Bob brought his hand up to the tip of my penis and gave it a flick. Then he rubbed the straining outline through my shorts. I was obvious…I was nearly history as I began leaking precum. The only thing I could think to do was to reciprocate, so I reached over and felt up Bob’s meat—which was now clearly visible snaking up towards the waistband of his khaki shorts. I gave it a couple of strokes through the material and the head slid past its confines to freedom.
“I think we’d better go inside,” Bob suggested. “Just leave the bottles, I’ll get them later. Both of us darted off the patio and into the privacy of his spare room. Bob leaned into me and gave me a wet kiss, forcing his tongue past my lips. I did not resist, and fought back with my tongue. During our oral struggle, our hands reached each other’s shorts, and made short work of removing the buttons and releasing the zippers. They fell to the floor, leaving both of us naked and our pricks straining against each other.
It felt great, and we ground our crotches against each other. Bob’s hands reached around and grabbed by ass cheeks pulling me tighter against him. I did the same. Between the friction being eased by our sweat and precum…we soon reached critical mass. I wasn’t quite there yet when Bob warned me. He pulled away and tried to hold back, but he was over the edge. He pulled me back against him and ground his throbbing dick into my crotch as he exploded and sent waves of cum gushing against my eager penis and into my crotch hair. This extra bit of frottage proved my undoing as well…and even before Bob was finished humping, I blew wide open too. By now I could feel the stuff dripping down my thighs, and an examination of Bob’s quivering knees showed the same.
“Oh man, sorry about that. I guess I’d been dry for so long…I just couldn’t hold on,” Bob apologized.
“Hey, no problem, it felt great,” was all I managed. Actually I was kind of relieved; the pressure was off...not knowing what I was in for or what type of activities Bob liked to engage in.
We just continued to hug each other and when our dicks’ sensitivity had gone down, continued to spread the cum between us, while asking each other’s favorite way to get off—what we each liked to do. It turned out that both of us were open to just about anything, and we agreed to continue our experimentation. We’d each fuck the other as well as hone our oral skills. All that talk got us both hard again and we continued to grind our slippery dicks together while talking about fucking each other, until we both shot again. The feeling and the smell of it all was wildly intoxicating.
By this time, Bob suggested that we’d better shower get cleaned up, since his mother or his father would be coming home before long. We fooled around in the shower, and both wondered why in the world we hadn’t gotten together way sooner. After we had dried off and I’d put on my shorts and semi-dry shirt, we agreed to call it a night, but we’d get together again later in the week. We exchanged telephone numbers and made plans for Wednesday or Thursday.
Well, as it turned out, Bob and I did indeed get together seven more times in the next two-three weeks, before he got his car fixed and headed back to ASU and Reggie. During that time I think us young, horny bastards explored just about every possible position and I don’t think there was a square inch of either of our bodies we hadn’t explored and violated. I can’t speak for Bob, but I think we nearly wore each other out—and thankfully my dick got a short break when Bob left.
The following year, Bob stayed and worked in Arizona. We saw each other (and yes we did it…) a couple years later, but after that I got a job that took me to Chicago and last I’d heard Bob was still somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico teaching.