Spring Plunge Into Love

Peter Sawyer transferred into my high school the day before St. Patrick's Day, halfway through the last semester of our senior year. Every girl I knew said he was hot. So far, I'd only seen bits of him from a distance between classes in the crowded school halls. I was looking forward to our meeting. That happened at our Connecticut town's annual "Spring Plunge."

I got my first good look at Peter when the car my girlfriend Marie and I were in arrived at the beach. Marie opened a window, yelled his name, and waved as the car turned to pull into the parking slot next to Peter's. I turned, followed her gaze, and had my breath taken away. You've heard or read how someone had that happen. The English have a word for it, being gobstruck, knocked off your feet, made speechless. That's what I was, gobstruck.

There was nothing effeminate about Peter, but still, he was gorgeous, astonishingly beautiful for a guy. What struck me was that I had never thought anything even close to that about a boy before. I knew some boys were more attractive than others, but that was all. Don't get me wrong, I was aware that I had bisexual inclinations since early childhood, but I didn't dwell on or explore them. No one would ever think that I was anything but totally straight.

Marie jumped out of the car and, after giving Peter a quick hug and pecking his cheek, walked a few feet away and joined some of her friends. I stayed behind to introduce myself, but truthfully, because I didn't want to move away from him.

Peter's hair was light brown like mine. His, though, flowed like silky feathers out from under the Yankees baseball cap he wore, shimmering in the sunlight. It fell over his ears, slightly longer than most of my friends. His big, expressive brown eyes had so many gold flakes that they sparkled. They held me immobile as mine devoured the pale, almost invisible freckles splashed across the flesh beneath them, highlighting his cheekbones. I thought most guys with freckles looked dorky. Not Peter.

Until she spoke, I was oblivious that Marie had returned and was now beside me. She ended the moment by telling us that The Plunge was about to start.

The Spring Plunge was a decades-old town tradition. On the first day of Spring each year, Seniors from the town's high school jumped into Long Island Sound. Those who could endure two full minutes in its icy water earned bragging rights and an official t-shirt proclaiming their foolishness. Although it sounds like a silly ritual, dozens of kids participated. The town even had an EMS truck and two warming vehicles on the beach so wet and freezing kids could change clothes after running out of water.

Besides a handful of male alphas, few managed to last more than twenty or thirty seconds in the water. I had what I felt was an unearned reputation as being one of those, so I had no choice but to freeze my balls off defending that rep.

Our group joined others as we made our way to the beach. Everyone was talking at once, laughing, and challenging each other to sign up for The Plunge. Just before we reached the registration table, Peter leaned close and said, "I need to do this, but I don't want to be the new kid in town who wimped out. Promise to make me do the whole two minutes?"

I wanted to kiss him but instead whispered, "Stay by me, and I'll take care of you, buddy."

I'm still amazed that no one mentioned how Peter and I spent the entire two minutes in the water, jumping around and yelling like everyone else, but we were as close together as we could possibly be. I was so proud of how we both lasted the two minutes and how, unquestioningly, afterward, my friends congratulated and accepted Peter into our crowd.

The Spring Plunge happened on a Friday that year, and Marie and I usually went out on Friday nights. We wouldn't that night. Peter and I made other plans while freezing our balls off in Long Island Sound. During lunch, I lied and told Marie I had to go somewhere with my dad that night.

Peter's parents were away, and he was home alone for ten days. He wouldn't be alone that night. While I waited for him to swing by to pick me up, I thought about something I'd learned about Peter that afternoon; the freezing water of Long Island Sound didn't do a thing to keep Peter Sawyer from boning up as hard as I had.

When we got to his house, Peter led me directly to his room. The first thing he did, at my request, was set an alarm to wake us up at 7 a. m. I needed to get home early in case Marie called or showed up early. That done, he flopped on his bed, and I dropped onto the chair at his desk. On the ride from my house, we picked up on telling each other our life stories from where we left off earlier in the day.

In the intimacy of Peter's bedroom, the conversation got more personal. I told him two girls had sucked my dick but that I had never been with a guy. I admitted that I was interested in boys but had never met someone who made me want to do anything about it until now. When I said that, Peter sat up on his bed, and as his hands reached for the hem of his polo shirt, he replied, looking at me, "Yeah, you're the first dude that's turned me on, too." That pretty much said it all.

As Peter pulled his shirt over his head, I did the same. Standing beside the bed, I lowered my jeans and stepped out of them. Laying back down, Peter arched his back and, lifting his pelvis in the air, slid his jeans to his ankles and toed them off. We both smiled when, as if under the command of a single controller, our eyes scanned each other's muscular bodies, then zoomed in on the long, thick boxer brief-covered tubes of hard cock we both hungered for.

The shy, civilized, getting-to-know-each-other phase of our courtship was over. This was the springtime of our lives, and we were about to explore and enjoy it to the fullest for the first time. No words were exchanged. My heart was pounding as I climbed onto Peter's bed.

I lay on my side beside Peter, lowered my face, and our lips touched. I lifted my face and looked down into his brown eyes. We lay immobile for a few seconds, silently looking into each other's eyes, savoring and processing that we had both just kissed another boy for the first time. Then he lifted his face and pressed his lips to mine again. My eager lips parted to accept the almost shy advance of his soft, gentle tongue between them.

We played at that for a while until I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth, and he accepted the challenge. That's when we took each other into our arms. What were gentle, even playful kisses became more passionate. We pulled apart for a second or two, looking deeply into each other's eyes, and then all the suppressed desire and passion within us erupted, and we went wild.

Lightly at first, then hungrily, our hands explored every sweat-moist inch of each other's bodies. Our tongues pried each other's lips apart and thrust deep into each other's mouths. We were both alphas and used to taking the lead with girls. I sensed that Peter, like me, was trying not to assert dominance. We both reached down almost simultaneously and began to slide off each other's boxer briefs. That began tentatively as we kissed with one arm wrapped around the other. But we both needed to be naked. An instant later, we were yanking each other's briefs down.

We didn't struggle to find a comfortable position. Our bodies fit perfectly as if they were sculpted to be a unit. Leaving Peter's warm, welcoming mouth, my lips traveled down his neck to his chest, kissing along his firm left pec and licking back and forth from his small, already hard left nipple to its equally rigid mate, sliding lower following the curve of his ribcage, then down his smooth trembling flesh to his navel, kissing and corkscrewing the tip of my tongue into its dimpled depth. But I wanted, needed more.

Reaching down with my hand, I cupped Peter's balls, closing my fingers lightly around them, gripping them gently as the heat of what I could feel was his thick, cut, and very long, throbbingly hard cock warmed my wrist and forearm only stopping when Peter pushed me onto my back, rolled up onto his side, smiled down at me, and began to worship my body as I had been his.

Being on my back with Peter leaning over me felt so perfect. He looked into my eyes, then lowered his lips to mine, changing me forever. As our lips touched and his Lover's Kiss possessed me, my arms encircled him, and I knew he was the one I had been waiting for. We were equals without a need to vie for power; we passed that baton back and forth.

Two athletic eighteen-year-old boys, one six feet tall and the other close to it, going at each other on a single bed, won't stay on it long. We fell off while treating each other like human lollipops, rolling around in a loose sixty-nine-like position, licking, kissing, and sucking on each other's hard, throbbing, leaking cocks. When we wound up on the floor, we just kept doing what we had been.

Peter's scent drew me to his balls like a magnet. I was kissing and nibbling at the inside of his right thigh when the first faint whiff of what I would come to think of as his sex scent drifted up from the warm depth at the base of his ball sack, where it joined his taint. I took my first deep sniff of Peter's scent as I wiggled my face under his sack. My tongue slid out as my hands lifted his thighs and parted his legs. I kissed and sucked on Peter's already tightening ball sack, lifting off only occasionally to take a breath, then dipping down again to trace each of his clearly defined testicles with the tip of my tongue. Feeling Peter's mouth on my own balls and his mouth and the tip of his tongue following the movements of my mouth and tongue with precision made me smile.

When I opened my mouth wide and carefully sucked in one of Peter's big egg-shaped balls, I felt his warm, moist mouth tenderly suck in one of my own big cum producing nuts. We lost ourselves for a time in tenderly kissing, licking, and sucking on each other's balls, almost as if we were hoping to make them work doubly hard to produce more and more of the cum we wanted from each other.

Peter's warm, satiny smooth, yet delightfully rough tongue slid slowly up over my sack onto the underside of my shaft at its base just as I gently lifted his rigid cock to my lips to lick the stream of precum off of its tip. As Peter slowly dragged his tongue up the length of my cock, I tongue-polished the head of his dick.

Happy to know my cock was Peter's favorite new toy, I reached around him and gripped his muscular butt cheeks with both hands and pulled his long, thick cock into my own mouth until I felt its big mushroom caplike head reach the opening to my throat. Taking a deep breath, I made my throat muscles open as widely as they could and pulled the big head of Peter's cock to the gateway to my throat. There was a momentary resistance, then I heard him gasp as his pulsating dick slid down my throat.

It was challenging and took determination, but that's how I made Peter cum the first time, by having him deep-throat me during our first sixty-nine on his bedroom floor the night of the 2005 Spring Plunge. I held onto his muscular little butt and pulled what I later learned was his seven-and-a-half-inch dick down my throat over and over as he moaned and gurgled and drooled all over my balls while sucking on my equally big dick.

When we got close, we both tried to warn each other and pull out of each other's mouths, but neither of us would allow it, so we both coughed and gagged a lot when we unloaded our loads down each other's throats at about the same time. As much as we both choked on all the cum, neither of us came up of the cock we were sucking on until we'd sucked each other dry.

I can't lie. Like newborn vampires, we were ravenous young cocksuckers having our coming-out party of sexual exploration. We couldn't get enough of each other. After I learned how to deep-throat Peter's dick properly, he wouldn't shut up until I taught him how to take my equally big cock all the way down his own throat. We talked about anal but decided to wait. I think we both knew that once we started fucking there'd be no top or bottom, and we'd be at it night and day.

What started out as a desperate need to have sex with each other evolved during the night into our making love, and we made that to each other almost until dawn. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, cuddled up on a pile of blankets and comforters on Peter's bedroom floor.

I always have morning wood and woke up with Peter sucking on my dick. I started laughing, pushed him off me, rolled on top of him, and kissed him. No sooner had my tongue shoved into his mouth than I thrust myself up on extended arms and looked down at him, stunned.

"Dude! You have Morning Cocksucker Breath! Go, gargle!" I exclaimed in horrified indignation. Then we began making out again.

Peter got me home on time. As he drove away after dropping me off, I thought we hadn't made any commitments, but it was clear that Peter Sawyer and I had been meant to meet and establish a connection that was much more than sexual. I had a feeling that it would be a great Spring.

Although I usually considered her inconvenient, Marie's best friend Cathy suddenly came in handy. Cathy's boyfriend graduated the year before and found a new girlfriend at his college. Since, like all the girls, she already thought Peter was one of the hottest guys at school, it wasn't difficult for me to hook them up. It was just logical that, socially, we would become a foursome.

It wasn't long before everyone in town knew Peter and I were best friends. Although well-known and cosmopolitan, our town was small and that sort of place. Peter's parents and mine met at a town meeting about some tax matters and became friendly. That made him no longer some anonymous kid I knew. He now had a seal of approval, so to speak. My premonition about Spring seemed to be correct.

Since our first time together on the night of the Spring Plunge, Peter and I had only been able to hook up briefly in strange places; the equipment room off the high school gym, once in a dressing room at a department store, our cars. We told the girls we needed guy time the second week in April and were going Trout fishing that Saturday.

In reality, we took an early train to New York and spent the early part of the day exploring gay places we researched online. We even checked out the Stonewall Bar Museum and memorial on Christopher St., in the Village. Late in the afternoon, we checked into a hotel neither of our parents would ever consider staying at. We made love for two hours without worrying who was around, if anyone would hear us, or how many seconds to count between our departures from some secluded place neither of us should be. To us, it was the nicest hotel in the City.

I woke up early on the last Saturday in April and discovered it was a perfect Spring day. A thought struck me as I stood on the deck off our kitchen holding my coffee, and I smiled. Peter's parents were a little put out by me arriving at their door so early and without warning on a Saturday morning. I was very apologetic. An hour after the idea struck me, Peter and I were at the marina, going over my sailboat and preparing to launch it for its first sail of the Spring. Going out to the middle of Long Island Sound to make love to my boyfriend was easier than going to New York.

Marie's parents left for Europe the next day. For Marie, her parents being away meant she had to have a party, which she and Cathy went about organizing for the following Saturday night.

Midway through the night, Marie and I were dancing to a rare slow tune while Peter danced with Cathy. My eyes were closed at first, but as we danced, I opened them and found that the girls were between Peter and me, back-to-back, so close they were almost touching. Peter's eyes were already open, looking at me. Our eyes met, and we continued to look into each other's eyes for the rest of the song. From then on, we always danced like that when we could. It was as close as possible to being in each other's arms. We called it dancing dangerously. It was a metaphor for our lives, pushing boundaries and living dangerously.

Marie wound up getting a little too fucked up. When everyone except Cathy, Peter, and I had left, although I expected to spend the night, Marie had already passed out. Cathy put her on her bed, and then Peter took Cathy home.

My folks had gone to Manhattan for the evening and stayed in the City with friends. By the time Marie was in bed, the last train from Grand Central had left, so my folks could not come home that night. Ten minutes after he dropped Cathy off, Peter was in my bed. We had to set another early alarm because the first train arrived at 6:50 a. m.

I'm not sure if it was because he was a little stoned or just because he was super horny, but almost as soon as we got naked and on the bed, Peter rolled on top of me, straddled my pelvis, looked down, and said, "I want you to fuck me tonight."

I'd wanted to fuck Peter so badly since the day we met. "Are you sure?" I asked. I wanted him to be certain he wanted this.

"God, yes! Fuck me! I've wanted you in me for so long, Mike!" Peter's eyes said it all.

Suddenly, I remembered I didn't have any condoms, having given my last one to a friend at Marie's party.

Looking up at Peter helplessly, I stammered, "Do you have any condoms? I gave Jack my last one at the party..."

"Dude, you think I'm slutting out on you behind your back?" Peter asked, feigning shocked indignation.

"No, asshole, what the fuck?" I threw back at him.

"Then relax. I think we can forget the rubber. Glad to know you do safe sex, though," he said, leaning down and kissing me.

Peter told me he'd been doing research and said he wanted to try to take my cock the way he was, riding me like a cowboy. Lying on my back, looking up at the guy I was in love with, who was straddling my hips, wanted me inside him, and was gripping my hard, nearly eight-inch cock getting ready to make that happen, riding me any way Peter wanted, was fine with me.

I wasn't at all surprised when Peter climbed off me long enough to bend over the side of the bed to retrieve a small tube of lubricant from his jeans. That made me ask if he had been a Boy Scout, which made us both laugh and wrestle and start making out...

That was twenty years ago. Peter had a successful career as a model while in college and is now pursuing another in video production. I've always been more tech-oriented. I make robots. When Peter's parents retired, we bought their home. We live in L. A. but come east a few times each year. This is one of the times we never miss. We stay in Manhattan the day we arrive, then drive up very early the next morning, on the first day of Spring, like we did today day. The Spring Plunge brought us together and even though we can't participate, we try not to miss it. And we always spend the night in Peter's old bedroom. It does have a queen size bed now.