1: Straight Boys Get It Straight

I pretty much enjoyed high school in the late seventies and eighties. There were moments of excitement like blizzards, power-cuts due to miners' strikes, and fuel shortages that made them close the school building - forcing us to have classes in a small community centre two days a week. There were some notable firsts, as well: first time getting drunk, first crush, first kiss, first time trying dope. It was also a lot of effort and I suppose I got some solid outcomes from it - ten 'O'-Levels, three 'A'-Levels, and a girlfriend. The latter was important to me because, once I'd knobbed her, I was indisputably a man. That rite-of-passage was a big deal to me at the time, but I'm not going to go into the details because... it was kind of awkward, disappointing, and over far too quickly to even get a paragraph out of. The best thing about it was that it was concluded successfully and I was nominally successful - rather like my 'A'-Levels, in fact.

If bonking a girl was an exam in 6th form college, I would have squeaked by with a grade of "E" and probably been turned down by any University or Polytechnic that required it. Luckily, it wasn't and my other scores got me into college, though not anywhere that could be described as 'prestigious'. I got accepted to Sheffield Poly doing a Maths Education course. It was something to look forward to that summer after my exams, but I had to get the summer over with first, and I had some work to do on that front.

First, my eighteenth birthday party had to happen. That was a given. I got blotto - obviously - and while it was a lot of fun and I'd love to tell the stories... I can't remember a fucking thing beyond drinking three Purple Nasties. (Recipe: a can of Carlsberg Special Brew, 1/3 pint bottle of Barley Wine, a bit of blackcurrant juice for the purpleness, and topped off with scrumpy cider all in a 20 oz. pint glass). First one went down in about forty seconds because I wasn't anyone's idea of a competitive-drinking champion. Second one took a few minutes - hey, I've gotta breathe, y'know - and the third one was a leisurely sipper while I slowly lost gross-motor control, as demonstrated by my pathetic attempts to remain vertical on the dance floor.

In addition to losing my balance, composure, dignity, and dinner, I also lost my girlfriend that night. I was assured by my friends that it wasn't just because of my helpless state of inebriation, though that probably helped, but instead it was because of some cunt whose name I don't even remember being way more suave with Sarah than I was.

I hope she ended up with a better fuck than I did, because the only 'fucked' I got was in the head. My dad's hair-of-the-dog remedy the next day was bacon, eggs, half a pint of Guinness with a dash of Worcestershire Sauce in it (for some godawful reason), and... a camping trip.

About the only one of my friends who wasn't also hung-over, and begging for death when I called them, was a kid called Nic who lived down the street. He only agreed to come along after I pleaded with him. I was motivated by the fact that a weekend of hiking up by Kielder Water was about as exciting as the grave and I needed someone to keep me company. I apologised for not inviting him to my do because it was mostly school friends, and he'd gone to a different Sixth Form than I had, but I downplayed it as a bit of a disaster so he wasn't too offended.

We hooked up the caravan - an aged Buccaneer four-berth - and Dad drove us to a site at the near-end of Kielder Dam. It was a decent campsite with a shower block and a few good walks from it. The healthy outdoor activity blew away my cobwebs and by about four in the afternoon, I was feeling human again.

We took a stroll before dinner. I'd skipped lunch, so I was feeling a mite peckish, but Dad said it'd be an hour before he even thought of doing any cooking, so we decided to kill the time. His plan was to sit in the van, read, do a crossword of the sort he never, ever finished, and drink a couple of cans while he contemplated eating. Nic and I hoisted a tin each of some horrible slop from the fridge that at least had a reasonable alcoholic content: McEwans Export.

We wandered around, searching for a good place to sit and sip our illicit ales. We found a fire-break between the trees that led up a hill and afforded a decent view of the reservoir. Finally, we plonked ourselves down and I distributed the provender from within the poacher-pockets of my Barbour, while also pulling out my pack of tabs. I offered Nic one as I lit my own. He declined.

"Your parents know you smoke?"

"Not officially. Then they'd have to say something. Mam has a pretty good idea, though. She saw me out of her bedroom window one time, lighting one as I was walking to the Metro station. I got bollocked for that, but... she never actually told me I couldn't. My grandpa smokes like a fucking chimney. Sixty-a-day. My two or three hardly compare."

He shook his head as he opened his can. It fizzed over. "Sorry - pockets," I said. I sat mine down and tapped the top a few times with a fingernail, then opened it. It didn't fizz excessively.

"How did that work?"

"I don't know, but if I had to guess it's something to do with compression waves that cause the carbon dioxide to be dissolved back into solution," I bullshitted. It was a valuable trick I'd learned from Physics class. Not preventing can-fizz... making up utter nonsense that sounded feasible.

He laughed. "I did French, English, and History for my 'A'-Levels. I don't know science. What did you do?" We hadn't really been close friends over the last couple of years - more so when we'd been younger. We had some catching up to do.

"My girlfriend, mostly. Oh, plus some Maths, Physics, and German. Did Art for a year, but I dropped it because there was just too much work... and I wasn't very good at it."

"You have a girlfriend?" Nic asked, surprised.

"Not any more. Bitch dumped me last night. I think we had an argument. Can't fucking remember. You?" I asked him.

"A couple, but they never lasted." He took a slurp of beer and let out a burp. "Wasn't really into them."

"You mean you didn't fuck 'em? That kind of 'not into'?" I teased.

He shook his head. "There's just something about licking a pussy that..." He shuddered and sighed. "Not my kind of thing." He looked at me, furrowing his brow. "You ever find that?"

"Definitely not. I mean - I can't stand pubes in the back of my throat - but pussy's great."

He shook his head. "Pubic hairs! I about gagged first time I got one of them in my mouth. Eurgh. Not my..." He stopped before repeating himself.

"I liked it when she came, though," I remarked, thoughtfully. "The only problem is, you can never be sure if it was real or if she just wanted you to stop."

We had a laugh at that.

"Exactly!" He agreed. "With a dick, you always know it's real."

I took a drag of my smoke. "So... are you saying you prefer dicks?" I teased.

The silence that followed was embarrassingly long.

"I'm just joking," I said when it became uncomfortable. "I'm not saying you're a puff, or anything."

He gave me a sidelong glance. "If I was, I'm not sure how I'd take that."

"Ah, man, Nic - I'm just pulling your leg," I said, brushing it off. He quietly sipped his beer. "Seriously?" I asked. "I mean... that's fine if you are." I felt a flush of heat within me. I was probably blushing, but that didn't occur to me. I was... excited.

I'd never met anyone who admitted to being gay. I got the distinct impression that Nic was hiding something, and the prospect fascinated me. I really didn't have anything against gay lads, but there was an unfamiliarity and an intriguing air to the whole idea. What was that like, to feel attraction to someone of the same sex? How did it work in one's mind?

"Are you?" I asked him, pressing the matter.

He turned a bit to face me. "What would you say if I was?"

I shrugged. "I'd ask what it's like."

"Why?" He asked, tilting his head and looking confused.

"I don't know. I supposed I'm interested. I think girls are amazing, so I can't imagine what it's like to prefer boys. What's it like, in that sense? Do you see a bloke and think 'phoo-arr, that's a bit of alright!' or is it that you... fancy them? Y'know - you think you're in love with them?"

"Well... how is it with girls?"

"W... OK... That's a fair question. Um..." I thought about it. "There are some girls... I look at them and just want to fuck them. Then there are others that I look at and feel my heart swell, like I think they're so pretty that I want to hold and protect them, and wouldn't even think of doing anything nasty with... until... I'd got over the 'love' part."

He nodded. "Yeah. That's about the same."

"So, you're gay?"

"Yes, Nick. I think I am."

I suppose I should clarify that we we both had the same name - I'm Nick, short for Nicholas, and he was Nic, short for Nicolàs. His family was French, or at least his dad was. They spoke French at home. Regardless, I was somewhat taken aback by his statement, but that passed very quickly. There was an initial surprise, but then a realisation that it was completely fitting. He wasn't a coarse, manly-man. He was softly-spoken, soft-faced, and fastidious. He always dressed smartly, had gone to a private school, and had a gentle demeanour. If I had to imagine someone who was gay, he would have fit the bill.

"Oh. OK." I lit another cigarette from the stub of my first one, because I'd not had more than a couple of puffs on it... no pun intended.

"Can I try one of those, now, please?" He asked.

I got one out for him and let him take a light off mine, but he didn't know how to. I lit it for him and passed it over. "You know... gay guys do that for their boyfriends," he said, with a smirk.

I laughed. "OK, but so do straight guys."

"They do it for their boyfriends?" He asked, drawing in a little smoke then letting it out as he spoke, without inhaling.

"If they're straight, do they have boyfriends?" I said, chuckling at the joke I'd made of my intentional misunderstanding.

"Oh, yeah!" He said, trying the cigarette again.

"You take a little in your mouth and then inhale it," I told him. "Don't try to breathe in through the cig."

He took it in and immediately coughed like crazy. "Fuck!" He said, after nearly ejecting his lungs. "How do you handle that?"

"You get used to it." I chuckled. "What do you mean straight guys have boyfriends? Isn't that a contradiction?"

He laughed. "Ooh - I'm getting a bit of a buzz." He cleared his throat. "No, you'd be surprised how many straight guys just want to try it - or just want a boyfriend for sex, not love. Which is a bit cruel, because the gay guys who hook up with them sometimes feel more than just sexual desire. It's kind of manipulative."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

He nodded. "I know a few boys who are gay, and they put themselves out there for other lads to shag. I wouldn't do that, but sometimes... sex is good. I've gone out with girls, but I've always fancied boys more."

"Have you had sex with another boy?" I asked, taking a big drag.

"No," he answered, shaking his head.

"Kissed?"

He nodded. "One time."

"Ever wanted to have sex with a boy?" I asked.

"All the fucking time!" He said, laughing. He tried the cigarette again. He managed not to cough this time. "That's pretty good!" He said, looking at the Embassy Regal. It wasn't, but for a first-timer, it probably hit the spot.

"Why? What's it about guys that you like? I mean... with girls, they have nice arses, lovely tits, and delicious pussies. I really love their butts. I don't know what it is - the perfect, rounded shape, the cleft between their cheeks, with that little hollow where their bumhole is - the've always got that. I love girls' bums. Obviously, blokes have butts, too, but there's something about the shape that isn't as appealing - too square, you know what I mean? What do you like?"

"Cocks!" He said, flatly. "I want a dick in my mouth. I want to lick it, taste it, suck on it, feel it between my lips, and then feel the spunk as he cums in my mouth - all over my tongue and teeth, and down the back of my throat. I want to swallow it and feel him cum on my face. I want to be covered in cum. Spunk is sex, in a nutshell! When someone cums on you, it's like... you've made them feel so good! I want to know that I made someone have an orgasm, and then taste the proof of it. Mmmm!"

I stared at him. Apart from the fact that it sounded... great... I was taken aback by how much he wanted it. I liked pussy, but I couldn't have put my love for it the way he did. This was something he'd really thought a lot about. It wasn't just a whim, or a passing fancy, he really craved it!

I contemplated his words. I had no particular qualms about sex with a guy. It wasn't in th forefront of my mind, but it didn't repel me. I always got confused when lads talked about homosexuals in derisive or hateful ways. I didn't get it! Why hate someone because of what they did in private? It wasn't like there were gangs of homos running around buttfucking people against their will, like they semed to imagine there were. Personally, I was interested by the idea, and wasn't opposed to trying it some time. I considered the implications of what I was about to say - considered, then abandoned any concerns about it.

"Do you want to suck my cock?" I asked him. I meant it as an offer.

He blushed and looked flustered. "Well... no... that's not what I meant. I'm not saying I fancy you, just - in general - I want... something like that."

He'd mistaken what I'd said as a defensive challenge. "No - I mean... I'd let you if you wanted to. You made it sound really good. Most girls... well... the only one I've had sex with... they don't seem that interested. It's more like... a chore to them. They'll do it, but it's not what they want. Not like how I want to eat pussy. I love all the little parts they have - the inner lips, the puffy outer ones, the clit hood and the clitoris itself, and their vagina... that's lovely to put a tongue into."

He squinted at me. "But... the smell and the... goo."

"Yeah, everyone smells if they haven't have a wash, but clean pussy tastes lovely and the juices are delicious. Sarah was sweet and earthy at the same time, but the best part was licking her clitoris. She liked that a lot! I made her cum a few times just licking it. At least, I think I did. Anyway... what I was saying was that you made it sound like you really wanted it, and... I... have no problem with that."

We smoked and drank for a bit.

"You'd really let me?" He asked.

"If you wanted to. But... just sex. It's not like I have any feelings for you beyond... you're my friend."

"Would you suck mine, too?" He asked. I wasn't sure if it was a request, or if he was just trying to gauge my level of interest.

I laughed, embarrassed. "I'm not saying I want to have gay sex with you, but if you wanted to suck a knob... I've got one. I don't mind loaning it out for a bit. As far as... participating goes... I'd have to see."

He sucked his lips. "OK. I'll think about it. Thank you for offering. Um... I'll let you know if that... happens to be something I feel like doing. Is your offer just right now because you feel turned-on, or would you be open to it another time?"

I smiled and put a hand on his cheek. He was warm and soft. He wasn't shaving yet, I could tell. "I'd..." I took a breath. "I think I'd let you whenever you feel ready. Not just a whim."

He smiled back. "Thanks, Nick. Um... We should start walking back."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, swilling down some more beer then getting up. Oh! I had an erection. That made standing a little challenging, but I covered it pretty well. Nic had to take his time getting up as well, which he masked by glugging down the rest of his can. I accepted the empty from him, stepped on it to flatten it, shook it to get the drips out, and stashed it in a waterproof pocket.

I finished mine on the way back as he talked.

"I had a dream about it once. Sucking a knob." He shook his head. "It felt so real and I loved it. Couldn't get it out of my head!"

"You couldn't get the dick out of your head?" I asked, joking. "Might have been 'cause it was in your gob."

He laughed. "No - that'd probably entail all kinds of weird symbolism."

"Beyond having a cock in your mouth? I mean - that's telling you something, right there."

"Yeah, well, I listened to that message. I broke up with the girl I was seeing the next day. Didn't tell her why."

"So tell me: why? Just because you fancy a bit-o'-cock doesn't mean you have to ditch your girlfriend."

"It made something clear to me. I was never going to get that with her."

I shrugged. "Have both," I suggested.

"You thought about it?" He asked.

"Umm... Y'know, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't. You ever watch a porno and imagine what it'd be like to be the girl in the movie?"

He gasped. "All the time! Well... I don't watch pornos all the time, but those times I've seen them... I was looking at the guy's cock." He nodded for emphasis.

I chuckled. "I know, right. I think that's pretty common. Once you've tried the guy's role, you think about what she's experiencing. Especially the end, when he spunks in her mouth."

"You ever done that? Cum in a girl's mouth?" He asked.

"Fuck, no. Sarah never wanted me to. She always clamped her mouth shut and grimaced if I came anywhere near her face."

"The girl I went out with first, she squeezed the end of my knob and made me cum in my pants one time. The second one wanted me to eat her out, but never did the same for me," he lamented. "It wasn't like I was getting anything from her anyway."

"Shit! Just whip it out and have a wank at that point," I opined.

"What?" He looked confused. "I know the expression 'wanker', but - you're gonna laugh at me - I don't actually know what it means."

I did laugh, then finished my can and did the squash-'n'-stash thing. "You mean 'wank'?"

"Right. What is it?"

"You take your knob in your hand and stroke it until you cum," I told him, demonstrating the basic motion. I remembered the first time I'd heard about wanking. I had to admit, it wasn't obvious. If nobody actually explained it to him, a lad wouldn't know what to do - unless they were lucky enough to happen upon the idea themselves. "Nobody ever told you that?"

"I've lived a sheltered life. Private school; very strict. No sex-talk anywhere," he said.

"Fuck off!" I said in disbelief. Admittedly, it wasn't a boarding school - just a place in the village that had a good reputation and cost a shitload of money to attend. Most of the stories I'd heard about boarding schools were anything but prudish - all the sodomy and fagging for the head-boy.

"You've got brothers," I pointed out. "They never said anything?"

He shook his head. "They're off in college. Before that, they never talked to me about sex."

"You've been cheated, Nic! Every lad needs to know how to wank."

He looked disappointed, like he had indeed been ill-treated by life. "So... it's just rubbing yourself, but you cum?"

"Simple as that, yep."

"When Lorraine did it, it took her like an hour. She had to keep changing hands. You do it for that long?"

I laughed. "Fuck, no! You can get a good wank in five, ten minutes - depending how desperate you are."

The magnitude of the revelation was apparent in his face. "It doesn't feel fake doing it yourself?"

"You think about sex, you pump the fist, and boom! You spurt all over the place."

He shook his head. We were getting out of the woods and close to the campsite I could see the van through the trees. The conversation had to take a break. "I'm going to have to try that," he said quickly, before we were out in the open. "Not right now, but sometime."

We went back into the van, acting like nothing of importance had happened - not that my dad could detect the influence of a sex-conversation between lads. Dinner was sausages, beans, and mashed potatoes: simple camp food that it was hard to screw up. It was a little on the phallic side, and Nic managed a tease by poking one of his sausages in the middle, then lifting it up to his mouth and slowly taking a bite of the end. It wasn't anything Dad would have noticed, but I saw it. I had to suppress a grin and just nodded slightly.

Nic and I got dish-duty, while my dad talked about walks in the area that we could do tomorrow. He had one of his many Ordnance Survey maps out, that showed all the footpaths, and details even down to individual buildings, overhead power lines, et cetera. It also showed pubs... which Dad didn't really need, since he knew them all in the area, but he pointed one out on the map.

"Bedford Arms. Not a bad pub. I'm going to take a walk there in a bit. You fellas want to come along? Nic - are you eighteen yet?"

He laughed. "Just because I'm shorter than Nick doesn't mean I'm younger. Yeah - since January."

"Fancy a jar?"

"Are we out of cans?" I asked.

"Almost," he said, "Someone took two, so there are only two left. I could get a few if I took the car."

"Sorry. Just thought we'd need a bevvy if we were going for a hike. Wait! How many did you have?"

"Good point," he sighed. "I suppose I won't take the car, then."

We stayed and let him hoof it on his own. It was getting dark, so we drew the curtains in the van and got our beds set up. The back end of the van had a bench seat and the back-cushions were held in place by a fabric panel between two aluminium poles. The poles and the panel also formed a bunk bed that could be set up over the bench. We got that ready because it was a pain to do just when you needed it: always be prepared.

Nic and I sat on the benches in the front section, with the table stowed aside against the cupboard. There was more space to stretch that way. I sat on one facing settee and he took the other.

"So... one girl squeezed your knob until you wet your pants, and the other just made you eat her out?" I asked, wanting to get back to the previous conversation. "Which one did you dump?"

"Actually, both of them, but the second was the one I left because she wasn't going to take care of me."

"That's weird. Sarah and I had a pretty good back-and-forth, but she left me." I shrugged. "I liked her, maybe even loved her, but things had become strained and I think my drunken performance at the party was the last straw. That, and the fact I'd talked about how things would have to be different when I went off to college. I'm off to Shiny Sheff in September." I had to clarify the nickname for Sheffield - the stainless steel industry had been born there.

He turned to me. "Tell me about wanking, then."

"I've told you," I said, grinning. "It's not something you can describe. You just have to do it."

"So... show me," he urged.

"No! I'm not gonna whip me dick out and give you a demonstration."

"Why not? You offered to let me suck you. It's not like either of us has a girlfriend." He moved and sat next to me.

"That's a bit more gay than I was thinking of going," I said... lying. I knew that letting him suck me off was way more along those lines. I looked at him, smiling hopefully. He was dying for it - I could tell. To be honest... so was I. "Look," I said swallowing nervously. "If we're going to trade... ideas... then, maybe we should get pyjamas on or something. My dad will come back at some point, and..." I waved a hand, like it explained something, "... Then we can cover up quick."

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely." We went to get changed at the back of the van.

I was done pretty quickly, but Nic seemed to be having problems. "You all right?" I asked.

"I've got a hard-on and it's not going down."

"All right! That's a good place to start. Sit down."

He shuffled over to the bench and sat. I could see the prominence in his pyjama bottoms.

"OK... pull them down and we'll see what you've got."

He hooked his thumbs into the elasticated waistband of his cotton pyjamas and lifted his bottom a bit to allow him to ease the pants down. I watched as he moved the thin material down, gradually revealing his abdomen, his thin patch of dark brown pubic hairs that were a match for the hair on his scalp. He'd trimmed his pubes, I noticed. Fitting, considering his own unpleasant encounter with such loathsome things. I'd done the same, myself, never wanting to inflict on others the (admittedly very minor) inconvenience of throat-pubes.

The cloaked outline of his prick ducked down under his waistband and I let out a 'huh' of relief as his penis sprang forth from its imprisonment.

I beheld it in awe and delight.

This was the first time I'd ever seen an erect cock in the flesh - other than my own, naturally. It didn't matter that it was smaller than my own, or narrower, because it was real, beautiful, and just inches from me. His foreskin was somewhat retracted as it stuggled to cover the healthy bulge of his glans. I admired its shape - like an inverted heart-shape. Swollen at the base and tapering with a graceful curve to a slightly-bifurcated point, between the sides of which I could see the tiny opening of his urethra: that wonderful little hole that sperm flooded out from... given the right encouragement.

The shaft of his knob was textured with veins as full and swollen as the rest of his penis, culminating at the base of it with one bulging vein that I knew only needed a little pressure on it to prevent the outflow of blood, resulting in a hardening of the cock that made it as rigid as shoe-leather. I let out an appreciative sigh, releasing the breath I'd been holding.

He took his pyjama pants down further, to his knees, then let them slip down to his ankles. He eased his legs apart and I could see the tightly-contracted pink skin of his scrotum - hairless and smooth, though I knew that its skin would be drawn-in and softly wrinkled to the touch... producing a texture almost as fine as a fingerprint.

"Is it OK?" He asked, self-consciously.

"It's... excellent," I gasped. "I've only seen my own. Yours is... beautiful - for want of a better word."

He seemed relieved. "Good. I always wondered if it was good enough. Can I see yours?"

I hesitated not in the slightest. I rose up and pulled my own pants down, then sat again. My cock was achingly hard. I could feel my foreskin stretching, I was so erect.

"Fucking hell!" He swore. I looked. What was wrong? OK - it tilted to the left a bit, while his was quite straight, and I had a bit of a downward curve to mine that looked like it was straining under its own weight when I stood in front of a mirror. I knew that the curve was just because of the way I wanked - since I'd been doing that for years.

"It's fucking huge!" He said. "Mine's a tiddler next to that!"

He was exaggerating, but I felt good about it. "Yours is gorgeous and straight. Mine's all bendy. But the size isn't important. Yours is a hundred percent cock, just like mine. That's the only number that matters."

"Fuck... I want to suck you so much!" He breathed.

I reached over and took his knob in my hand. He yelped and stared at my hand on his penis. "Oh, God! This is really happening!"

"This is how you wank," I said. I started moving my hand up and down on his cock. It took a moment for me to get into the right mindset, because the movements came with no feedback sensation. I had to guess what to do, but I trusted that I was doing the right thing.

I masturbated him, working my fingers into the position I wanted by touch - so that I wasn't just stroking his shaft, but my thumb and forefinger were moving his foreskin in time with them and my actions produced movement around the rim of his cock-tip. I experimented with the right amount of pressure, judging from his reactions. His eyes were wide, and locked on the sight of my hand on his dick.

"Fucking hell, Nick. This is incredible!" He squinched up his buttocks, lifting his groin into the air just a little, but also expressing the tension I was building in his body. I saw his muscles contracting, and heard his breathing shorten and quicken. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" He begged, though I had given him no indication nor reason to believe that I was about to. Then I remembered my own first time at the hands of another: it was such a wonderful feeling that one naturally experienced a degree of anxiety that it might possibly cease unexpectedly. We didn't have that trust, yet. I understood what he needed.

"I won't stop until you cum. Relax, and just feel it. Think about sex. Look at my knob. Hold it if you want."

"May I?" He said, looking over at my dick. I nodded. He put his right hand on it since I was on his right side. He held me and squeezed me, then ran his fingers over my knob to feel the shape and size of it. I felt his fingers on my tip, my underside, and then they strayed onto my scrotum. I was tightly shrivelled as well and his light touch thrilled me. I drew in a sharp breath as his fingers tickled my sac.

"Oh, I like that!" I said in response to feel of his fingers on my prick.

We sat side-by-side on the small couch with each other's cocks in our hands. I had my right arm over him - I couldn't wank with my left - and he had his across my lap. I wanked him up into the air while he wanked me horizontally. I moved a little closer to him so our hips were pressed together, and placed my left hand over the base of his knob. I pressured his vein with my thumb and wrapped my fingers around his shaft so I could caress his balls. I felt him getting harder. He moaned, with his face set in a lustful grimace of concerned intensity. I grinned as I masturbated him and stroked his scrotum. I let the fingers of my left hand slip down under his ballsack and stroked the tender, sensitive skin between his legs with my fingertip.

He let his legs splay wider, and with my fingers I could feel the curves where his thighs met his groin. I ran my fingers along the creases and, between them, found the ridge of furled skin that I also had between my legs, just behind my scrotum. I followed it down to the point where it dived between his buttocks. I stroked the curve of his bum-cheeks where they met his groin and ventured between them with a finger to stroke his ring, making him gasp in pleasure.

I watched his penis as the circular ring of his foreskin winked at me, revealing his purplish prick-head as I wanked him.

"I know exactly what you mean," I said, obliquely.

"What's that?" He said, only half-concentrating on my words.

"Looking at your dick... I want it. I want to suck your cock, Nic." As I said it, I relished the words. "I want you to cum in my mouth."

It was a fantasy that I couldn't keep hidden any longer, not least from myself. I had to say it. Saying it made it more real. I had no idea what cum tasted like, but I didn't care. Whatever it was like, I would get used to it. I would grow to love it. I wanted to love it! I wanted to feel him squirt sperm in my mouth, to taste it, to smell it in the back of my nose, to feel it slither down my throat, to swallow it and know that it was a part of me.

I dropped my head and my chest down. He had to move his arm so he put his hand on my back. I saw his cock grow larger in my view as I neared it. It was a perfect symbol of lust! Erect, stiff - but soft to the touch of my hand - crowned with a mitre of smooth, flawless, sensitive skin alert to the touch of a warm, moist environment to envelop it and coax forth the bounteous juices of joy that it could deliver. I lowered my face toward it, inhaling the piquant male scent. I moistened my lips till they glistened with a sheen of lubricating saliva and opened my mouth. I held out my welcoming tongue like a red carpet to soften the arrival of his eminence.

His penis slid into my mouth. A perfect fit! My mouth and his dick were made for each other. I tasted his rich, savoury flavour as I enclosed the tip of his cock in my mouth. Immediately, my salivary glands woke up at the taste of something delicious. I moaned as I started to suck on his cock.

He groaned with pleasure, too, as my lips caressed his foreskin and my tongue cradled his glans in a warm, wet embrace. I couldn't help myself. I wanted it all inside me. I wanted to taste and feel it in every part of my mouth. I sank down on it, feeling it intrude past the back of my tongue, knowing that I had to treat it with tenderness and make it know how welcome it was in my mouth.

"That is so fucking good!" He said, gasping repeatedly as if all he could do was inhale. He started to slip down towards me.

I used my arms and legs to lift up and turn my hips to face him and got onto the couch without letting his precious penis out of my mouth for a second. I knew he wanted to suck me as well, and I wanted to make sure he could.

His torso aligned with mine and I felt his hands on my bum. His butt! Of course! How could I have forgotten? I put a hand around his hips to fondle his smooth, shapely bum. His bottom was every bit as delightful to the touch as a girl's was. He was silky, young, and athletic. I sucked and moved my head in time to the universal rhythm of sex.

Then I felt his mouth on me!

It was warm, enveloping and wet with a flood of saliva born of unquenchable lust. My cock slid perfectly into his mouth and, after he took me back as far as he could go, he withdrew and concentrated his attentions on my tip like I was doing for him. I echoed his moans of lust as we hummed on each other like musical instruments, playing a tune of desire and fulfillment in one movement.

We communicated wordlessly in tones of lust and pleasure. It was perfection. There was no need that either of us had for anything more. This was the pinnacle of our sexual experiences. Neither of us had had such wonderful sex before. We'd both experimented with girls, and been disappointed in our results, but this was something that Nic had dreamed of and I had only fantasised about in passing. The reality was so much more memorable and intense than anything we'd previously felt.

The fact that I was - without any doubt - having sex with another boy was completely irrelevant. I was having the best sex I could imagine, and who it was with was completely secondary to how good it felt.

Beside the fact that it filled me with sensations I'd only ever wished to feel, it also provided me with something to lick and suck that was safely free of hairs, was easily accessible, and had the perfect shape and size for me to wrap my face around. It was almost too easy! Pussies required positioning and fitting one's shoulders where legs were trying to be, but a cock was approachable, orally-huggable, and the perfect delivery system for the greatest wonder in sex: the cumshot!

Our actions became coordinated as we aligned our timing and sucked together, making deep, sonorous music with our throats as we beckoned the sex-syrup to cum and fill our mouths and our hearts' desires. Nic's notes rose in pitch. He was feeling urgency. This was a boy who'd only accidentally cum after the clumsy grinding of his girlfriend, through layers of clothing. He'd never masturbated, so he didn't know the sequence or the feeling that a good wank would bring on. I used whatever skills I could apply from my experience with pussy to lick and suck, while also bringing my hand around to tickle lightly on his intensely-tight scrotal sac.

He gave a squeal of surprise at my touch followed by a long moan of approval. My mind was running a mile-a-minute, thinking how he must have felt. I moved my other hand to allow my fingers to caress between his buttocks, and felt his sphincter beneath them. I tickled his ring and his nuts while I sandwiched his cock-tip between my palate and tongue, wrapping my upper incisors with my lip. There was only softness here for his cock to encounter.

With a groan of pleasure that came in waves, his cock bulged in my mouth and I felt a sudden stream of warm, soft liquid shoot into my mouth. It sank over my tongue to my teeth, only to be followed by another that hit me in the back of my throat. I smelled the salty air like sea-spray, but with warmth and a tang not unlike the scent of soap. Again he came in me and it was like a gentle flood on my tongue. His cock pulsated with the bursts of spunk and with each one they fell in intensity as he moaned and sagged into his orgasm.

I hadn't really noticed, but I'd already swallowed some of it without thinking. Now I wanted to experience the larger quantity. I angled my head to let it back past my tongue and swallowed it down. There was a slight sting like a sore throat, but only for a moment. It came again but each time I swallowed - whether it was spit or sperm - it abated. It was nothing to be concerned about, and probably just the fact that sperm was a collection of little cellular-sized things trying to get somewhere, and causing minor irritation as they did so. I knew that the urge to urinate after ejaculation was to flush the urethra to prevent such irritation, which was effective because pee was acidic and semen was alkali. Perhaps it was because it was alkaline that it came with a burn? I'd drank vodka before, so this was no different - all kinds of good things burned going down: curry, spirits, lemon juice... and now spunk.

My desire to love it was not hard to achieve. It was easy, in fact. I had no idea why Sarah had been so reluctant to let me cum in her mouth, then it dawned on me that she - like most people, and I'd include myself in that before I knew otherwise - only feared or idolised the unknown. The mystique of spunk was that unless you'd actually tried it, you could never know what it was like. Part of the attraction of seeing sperm going in someone's mouth was that you knew they were tasting it - the secret was being revealed to them. I think men secretly yearned to know but never had the nerve to find out, because when you cum on your hands the urge to know and taste it evaporates after the orgasm.

Nic had to have his taste. He was still sucking me softly, reflexively, but without the intensity of before. He was basking in his own afterglow. He needed help to know the truth about cum. I shifted and got up on my knees, taking my knob away from him - only temporarily. He smiled up at me as I knelt above him and lounged back flat with his shoulders square on the cushions. He stretched, luxuriating in the post-coital sensation. I took off my shirt so he could see me and he did the same. We weren't bodybuilders. We had lean, natural teen bodies - nothing special. I always thought I had a bit of a tummy, but Nic looked thinner than me. To anyone else our age, we were boring and unremarkable, but to each other we were special in one very important way: we were available and willing to share.

"That was the best thing I have ever felt!" He said, grinnning like a drunk. "What was it like?" I knew he meant the cum.

"Not scary, not nasty. Just warm and tangy, like slightly salty egg-white... you know the half-cooked stuff when it's still runny?" He gave a weak smile. "Yeah, I know - nobody likes that - but it's not bad. I liked it, actually. The way it squirted and ran into my mouth was... really good." I nodded. "It was worth all the wait and the mystery. I think you'll like it. There's a bit of a tingle with it, like..." I tried to think of something that wasn't off-putting, but which had the same kind of tang. "... Alcohol, but milder."

He nodded slightly. "I want to taste it."

I put my knees either side of his chest and he lifted his arms up to place his hands on my bum. I held my knob and stroked it. He looked up at it and me, extending his tongue to lick my tip. His touch felt exciting, and it thrilled me to see and feel him at the same time.

"You're going to love this," I assured him. "Pussy's nothing compared to this."

I leaned forward and rested an arm on the counter over the fridge which was next to the couch, so he could suck me easily. I dipped my knob in his mouth periodically and then wanked more when I removed it. Each time he sucked me he closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation of my knob on his tongue and between his lips, but then when I took it out to wank more he watched and opened his mouth wide in anticipation.

Wanking and bringing myself to an orgasm was not hard with that kind of display of lust right beneath my knob. His face was no different from a girl's in many respects. He had smooth skin, untrammelled by peach-fuzz or stubble, a slight chin, a slender jawline that was quite feminine, and pretty eyes. The only thing that really looked masculine was his short-back-'n'-sides haircut. I tended to let my hair stay long, over my ears and a bit shaggy at the back, but my jawline was squarer and I had stubble - I'd been shaving since I was fifteen. Such hair on him would almost make him look like a girl.

"You should grow your hair out. You'd be pretty," I said, not really thinking, just talking with my lust. The idea of him in sexy, feminine underwear put me over the top. I opened my mouth in anticipation of him doing the same. He knew what was about to occur and opened his, too. I loved looking at his eager, beckoning mouth: his tongue poking out between his soft, pink lips, and his glistening teeth about to be covered in spunk.

I came with a stifled groan. My sperm ejaculated straight into his mouth, leaving a trail of juice along his tongue and down his chin, to his neck. He flinched slightly at the surprise, but didn't turn his head or shy away from it. I tried to move closer for the second spurt but it came too quickly. It hit his upper lip and teeth, splashing on his tongue again. The third pumped true, right in his mouth once more, without hitting the sides. I watched him smile through it, his grin getting wider as he felt the hot blasts of jism in his mouth. He moaned as I came, tasting it for the first time. He could see me cumming and his eyes were wide, locked on the sight of my spunk emerging from the very end of my cock. I slowed my wank and let it ooze for the last few waves of sensation. More dribbled out, pooling on his cupped tongue. When the last of it was but a squeeze away, he closed his mouth, tasted it, and then swallowed. He craned his neck forward to lick at the last emergence of pale, whitish fluids from my knob, straining his lips forward to kiss it and suck the last out of me.

I could still feel the aftershocks of orgasm in my groin, pulsating and relaxing. I let out my breath. "I loved seeing that on your tongue. Was it everything you hoped?" I asked him, smiling.

"Over too soon. I love it! I love your spunk! That was incredible. If someone had've told me that cum was that easy to drink, I wouldn't have believed them. I can still taste it in my mouth." He swallowed again and sucked on the tip of my penis in case there was a little left to be had. "Tell me this wasn't just a one-time thing, please," he begged.

"Hell, yeah! I'd do it again," I nodded.

The look of happiness on his face was beyond measure. I shuffled my knees back, bent down and kissed him.

It was odd! I'd never in my life thought of kissing a boy before, but it just felt like it had to be done. He'd just swallowed my cum, and I wanted to show that I didn't consider him filthy or contaminated, or anything of the sort. My former girlfriend never wanted to kiss me after I'd eaten her out, so I wanted to show the opposite reaction. We snogged, letting our lips dance together and our tongues collide in a moist tangle of saliva and the remnants of cum in our mouths. The scent of spunk was renewed in my nose and it made me want to kiss him harder.

To rate kisses on a scale is probably to profane their value, but he was at least an eight. I'd had a snog with a girl on a bus once who'd been a fantastic kisser, when we'd been coming back from an overseas exchange trip. She'd been a nine. I never got together with her after, which had been a disappointment, but as good as she'd been I always left space at the top for better. Nic was close to her prowess... meaning there was room to grow.

"You kiss well," he said after we parted. I leant down and licked the cum off his neck and chin, then kissed him again. He moaned as we shared the last little bit of spunk.

When we separated, he pulled his pyjama bottoms up and looked down at my naked body. "I think we might want to get our clothes on. In case your dad gets back."

I sighed. "Yeah. I think so." I reached for my pyjama pants that had ended up on the floor...

... And that was when the caravan door opened.