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Under the Boardwalk
Posted by: SoloTouchArchive
Author: admin
Posted on: 20 May 2000
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Under the Boardwalk by Bruno (btrac@hotmail.com)
I am a twenty-six year old male, 5'10, 185 lbs., of average-to-muscular build, with short-shaven brown hair, a goatee, a silver hoop earring in each ear, and dimples when I smile.
When I was eighteen, I worked in an amusement park near my hometown, running one of the carnival-type games. There was a bunch of us who were regulars up there who returned year after year to work summers at this park. The park, situated on a pier at the shore - drew quite the crowd of young, buff guys and young, buff girls and I'm certain that the scenery - the unbelievable amount of tanned, taught flesh - is what brought us back each year. For me, the endless summer hours at the Pier provided ample material for my masturbation fantasies.
The Pier closed when there was no longer any patrons left awake or sober enough to partake of the enjoyment. Some of the booths that were geared toward children or families would close between 10 and 11 PM. I ran a booth featuring a high-pressure machine gun that fired lead BBs at a target. Needless to say, it was not a family booth, and I typically closed up around 2 AM. Every night after closing, all of the game booth operators would go to the bar across the street, to a party on the beach that one of us had caught wind of, or to some one's home to drink up and have some fun. On night a friend - a fellow Pier worker who had taken the night off - was having a party at his apartment. Unfortunately, this was a particularly busy night. I had a steady stream of customers until 3AM. The only other booth that stayed open was a pizza stand across the pier from me that was catering to the crowds exiting the bars closing up at 2. A friend of mine ran the pizza stand and had also been planning to attend the party. When business had finally lulled, he pulled his gate down and walked over. His name is Brad. He was about four years older than me - he was 24 - and was built much the same as me. He had brown hair and was clean shaven. I pulled my gate and we got into his car and drove to the party.
Unfortunately by the time we got there - around 3:30 in the morning - the party had died out. Everyone in the house was asleep. Brad and I had both been to this apartment several times and, finding the door unlocked and everyone asleep, made ourselves at home. We each took a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch. Brad turned on the TV and started flicking through the channels. When he came upon some soft-core porn on a cable channel, he looked at me with a devilish grin. We made small talk and put down about three beers each. We sat on opposite ends of a small couch, with about a body's-width between us. He was talking about how bummed-out he was that we had missed the party, and about how he had been hoping to get some action that night. I mentioned that it had been a long time for me, too, and that I was getting tired of masturbating alone. This caught his attention, and he looked at me and smiled. It was one of those weird, incredibly fast and intense moments that made my heart jump a beat. When this awkward silence passed, Brad sat back and spread his legs a little. He began breathing a little heavily and talking about what we were watching - mentioning how attractive the girl was and how badly he wanted to fuck her. I echoed some of his thoughts, and sat back spreading my legs. In the darkness of the room and by the flickering-glow of the soft-core movie I began to notice his hand in his crotch, rubbing the outside of his jeans.
I was getting really excited at seeing another guy pleasure himself, and I started to rub through my jeans as well. I have a decent-sized cock which was at the time running down the inside of my left leg. Brad leaned over a little and looked in my lap. He said, "what are you doing?" My heart stopped and I was instantly nervous, embarrassed and sweating. I thought he had been rubbing himself too but it was dark and maybe he was just itching or something. "What do you mean," I asked. "Why are you rubbing your leg like that," he followed up. "I'm just petting Spike," I said, referring to my cock in a kind of weak attempt at changing the topic with such a ridiculous and cliché name for my dick. "No way," he said. "What do you mean, no way??" I asked. "You're that big??" he asked with a smile. "Yeah," I said. "Let me see," he said, and reached right across the couch and placed his strong hand on the inside of my left thigh. His fingers wrapped gently around the tube-shaped bulge in my pants and he ran his hand down the length of it, lingering a little at the ridge of my mushroom head, which was now poking through the bottom of the left leg of my boxers and dampening the thigh of my jeans with a short, hot jet of pre-cum. I'll never forget how my heart just stopped as he touched my dick through my jeans. "Wow," he whispered, and took his hand away. He leaned back more pressing his back into the couch and slid his hand under the waist of his jeans and stared into my eyes, down my chest, and into my lap.
After a few seconds of this, he retracted his hand and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He made a motion that I knew even through the darkness was the motion of a man whipping his cock out from the constraints of underwear. I was very excited and undid my pants and pulled my large cock through the fly of my boxers. "I'm not nearly as big as you," he said, and reached over, took my free hand in his, and guided it into his lap. The stiff head of his cock rose from the darkness and poked me right in the center of my palm, and I instinctively wrapped my fist around his dick. The whole of it just fit my fist. Though he was smaller than me, he was nonetheless harder and stiffer than I ever tend to get, and I was very, very excited at this stiffness. His dick was taught and springy. I flicked the head a few times and marveled at how his cock sprang back into place. He stood up and dropped his pants and underpants and I stood up and shed my jeans and boxers, and we sat down next to each other, our hips and arms and bodies pressed against one another. He reached into my lap and began stroking slowly and softly up and down the length of my cock while I stroked his beautifully hard dick. After a few minutes he asked, "do you want a blow job?" In retrospect I could never believe how quickly I had allowed things to move, and how the fact that I was with another man - a fact that, in any other context would have seemed absurd at that time - never even occurred to me. I was caught up in the excitement of it all. "Of course," I replied, to which he responded, "you do me first."
I got down on my knees in front of the couch and warned him, "I don't really know what I'm doing I mean, I've never " "Don't worry - you'll figure it out. When I tap your head, stop sucking. The rest will come naturally." I started licking the head of his cock. The skin was pulled so tight across it I thought it might burst. I licked up and down the shaft awhile. He stretched his body out, his legs spread and rubbing my body as I kneeled between them. His head rolled back and he closed his eyes. He was rubbing his chest and belly with his hands, and running his hands over my crew-cut hair. I opened my mouth so wide that no part of it was touching him and took his dick all the way inside, then closed it around his cock, enveloping the hard dick in the soft, warm, wet folds of my mouth. I sucked in and began sliding my mouth up and down the shaft. His hardon was long enough for it to be fun and short enough that, on my down strokes, I got to bury my face in his bush and balls and belly. I will never forget the manly, musky smell of these cock-and-balls of the first guy I sucked. I would pull up and tickle the hard head with my tongue, then push my face down and swallow his dick and take a deep breath of his smell in. I rubbed his nuts with a free hand and instinctively tried - to no avail, this first time - to find his asshole and play with it with a lingering finger and, occasionally, a lingering tongue. After a few more minutes of sucking he tapped me on the head and grabbed some napkins from the coffee table and came into them, his body bent forward and convulsing as he moaned with his head tilted back, beads of sweat running down his forehead and chest.
He instructed me to sit on the couch and got on his knees in front of me. I was very nervous and excited. My cock was only semi-hard (a pretty common state for me) and he stroked it gently in his hand. He took my balls in his other hand and then bent forward and began rubbing my soft thick tube all over his face. He pushed the head of my dick up toward my belly button and rubbed his cheeks all over the exposed, veiny underside of my cock. Finally he opened his mouth and began sucking my cock. He was only able to take about half of me, but it felt incredible and was very exciting. I leaned forward and rubbed his shoulders and chest roughly, reveling in the size and strength of him, excited to be with a solid beefy man. He squeezed my nuts tightly and occasionally dragged his teeth across the head of my cock, causing me to moan. I stretched out and began instinctively pinching my nipples - something I had never done before - and lifting my legs into the air, placing them on his strong shoulders and exposing my asshole.
All of a sudden he stopped everything and shot up, yanking his pants to his waist! I grabbed my pants, in an absolute cloud of ecstasy and confusion and, not having blown my load, total frustration. Then I hear what he had heard - someone in the back of the house had awakened! A figure lumbered sleepily into the kitchen, took a beer from the fridge, and stumbled back from whence it had come. My heart was racing! I was suddenly shaking and nervous and sick at the thought that we might have been caught. "Come on," he said, and led me out the front door by my hand.
We got into the front seat of his old '73 Chevelle, which had a huge bench-style front seat (they don't make 'em like they used to). He told me to strip down and I did. The car was parked on the street in front of the apartment. I got naked and he bent over the seat and started sucking me again. It took me some time to relax and get back into it, and his mouth was tiring. I told him to stop and to strip. He stripped down and laid flat across the front seat. I straddled his body on my knees at his chest, the head of my dick just about touching his chin. I stroked my cock in long, hard strokes. I reached behind me and played with his now-erect-again dick and then reached back and squeezed my nuts, rubbed my chest, pinched my nipples, rubbed my belly. Finally I took my cock in both hands and moved them in synch up and down the shaft until a thick, hot, white load shot out onto his lips, nose, cheeks, chin and chest. He smiled and said, "Damn."
We dressed, made small talk, and then parted ways at about seven the next morning. For the remaining two months of the summer Brad and I would go out after work, ostensibly looking to hook up with women. But when we failed, we ended up in his front seat, or mine, or under the Pier, or on the beach, or in the back of my game booth, sucking each other to some incredible, spastic orgasms.
Despite the four or five male/male experiences I have had since my summer with Brad, there is something about that first time that will always stick with me, and it is the first and fastest fantasy to come to mind when I lay back to stroke each day.
Thanks for the great site. I look forward to reading stories about others' first time, or second, or third, or hundredth
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