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Summer of ’63

Category: Gay Male
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Part true, part fantasy–all erotic. Fun to have lived through, fun to have composed–lots of fun to read!

T’was the summer of 1963! Now, that is a long time ago—long before most of you were even born. Things were different then. Sex was around—yes even back then—but it was a lot different. The sexual revolution hadn’t hit the streets yet. People were still talking in hushed voices about the Kinsey Report; Playboy was still considered scandalous pornography by the oldsters; and gay sex wasn’t even known as “gay”.

Most of the revolution of the “60’s” actually happened in the 70’s. Sure, there was the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley 1964; there were definitely civil rights demonstrations that literally got hotter in 1965; the anti-Vietnam War sentiment started to burgeon in 1967; and, at the same time, the drug scene was just beginning to creep into public semi-consciousness. But that was only the beginning of the forest fire that really didn’t hit until ’68 through about ’75.

Yes, the early 60’s was more like the drab ‘50’s with a few little sparks starting aglow beneath the accumulation of ground fuel that was the “Baby Boom” generation. All of the values were post-war (World War II, folks): staid, conservative, get-married-have-a-family-with-four-kids values.

Being known as a homosexual, (homo, faggot, queer, cocksucker) resulted in being immediately ostracized from the mainstream group of whatever environment in which you happened to be associating. And it wasn’t just being looked at as different; it was actually being eliminated from whatever group that might be. Gay men and women lost jobs, and employability and apartments. Talk about second-class citizens?

Of course, there were compensations: AIDS hadn’t hit the scene, gay men never thought of using condoms, gay sex had heightened excitement to it because it had to be clandestine.

I was a freshman in college in 1963. I was struggling to maintain a straight persona, though I didn’t quite know it at the time. I dated girls but the pain of asking a girl out was compounded by the agony I felt while actually being out on the date. It was hard to talk to them; I didn’t understand them; I didn’t feel I was acting properly with them at any given time. Did they want me to make a move? If I made a move and my timing was wrong, would they insult me? Laugh at me? Slap me? If I didn’t make a move, would they feel insulted because they thought I didn’t thing they were attractive? Think I was a coward? Think I was “queer”? I wanted sex; they wanted fun—which might or might not include sex. What a game!

I had sex with girls a couple of times. Frankly, jacking off had been better. I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did they, except for that 22 year-old woman I met at the store. She was a (gasp!) divorcee who lived alone. She loved sex and we got it on a couple of times. But she didn’t want to waste time on an 18 year-old; her taste ran to greasy auto mechanics that were older and married. Go figure!

I had gay sex a couple of times, too. That was when I was in high school. I had a buddy who would sleep over and we would play with each other’s cocks, jack off, and things like that. We didn’t suck each other off nor did we do any actually fucking. It was just playtime sex. But I did enjoy it.

So there I was in the summer of 1963, feeling strange, wondering what was going to happen to me for the rest of my life, trying desperately to get laid, and knowing that I was probably just going to wind up jacking off the rest of my life.

Now, I worked in a department store, not that I actually sold anything, or did stock work, or anything like that. I worked in the kitchen of the employee’s cafeteria. It was grunt work, washing dishes, doing pots and pans, bussing tables, and just generally cleaning up after the slobs who ate there. But the pay was better and my wages didn’t depend on commission. I just work hard and got paid O.K.

Part of what I did was to bus the tables. I had to go out into the dining area and clear off the tables, wipe the tables off, and take the dishes back to be washed. For some reason, the cafeteria didn’t have a cart so I had to carry all of the tubs of dishes all the way back to the kitchen. This was practically a non-stop activity and–believe me–I hustled. “Better Busy Than Bored” was my motto.

I was in pretty good shape, even though I smoked. I was about 150lbs, without an ounce of fat, and I had a fairly good build. I didn’t work on it; I was just built that way. Besides, who worked out back then?

“Hey, Kirk?” The voice was from Brad, one of the guys who worked in the women’s shoe department. “You want to go to a party tonight?”

“Nah. I don’t think so.” I replied. Parties made me only marginally less comfortable that going out on a date one-on-one. I couldn’t dance, I wasn’t a good conversationalist, and drinking made me sick. To be honest, I’d rather go to a good movie alone than try to put up with a party.

“Ah, c’mon!” Brad shot back. “This is going to be a good deal. Mack knows this guy and it is going to be at a house up in one of the canyons. Honestly! Some guy in the movies, so Mack says.”

“Geez! Hollywood, huh?” I wasn’t enthused. I didn’t fit in with the “beautiful people”; I didn’t have the money, the car or the clothes. “I think I’ll pass on this one, Brad. Thanks anyway.”

“Ah, c’mon, c’mon.” Brad was pressing. “I know what you are thinking, kid. It ain’t gonna be fancy. It’s pool party for chirssakes! Hey, just go; have a couple of beers; see what the broads look like; and then, if you don’t like it you can split.”

“O.K. I guess so.” I said as I waited for Brad to write the address on a napkin. “But I’m gonna drive my own car. I don’t wanna get stuck there.”

I forgot to add that I wasn’t much of a swimmer either. I’d drop by but I wasn’t really planning on going swimming or even having that much fun, for that matter. Well, at least I didn’t have to dress to impress anyone.

That night I drove my beat up VW one of those narrow canyon roads that have been carved out of the hillsides above Hollywood. For the price of those neighborhoods, you’d think they’d have better roads. It took me a while to find the house; I passed it twice before I found it–no streetlights up there and the houses were all set back, up and away from the road. I parked way off the edge of the road, right up against the hillside.

It trudged up the long driveway and, the closer I got to the house, the louder the music got. Jesus! It sounded like they had a live band! When I got to the house, I discovered I was right. I walked in the open front door—there wasn’t anyone there to find out if I belonged there or not. There were lots of folks in the big, open, rustic looking living room, mostly facing the back of the house. The entire back wall of the house was sliding glass doors that had been opened to the yard behind. I could see through to the yard where bandstand that had been set up for this jazz quartet who were playing loud but mellow over the buzz of conversation.

I started looking around for Brad. I noticed that just about everyone was attired in swimwear. Some guys had on Hawaiian shirts; some guys no shirts. Everyone looked tanned and healthy. It was pretty clear that a lot of these guys worked out at least a little. I couldn’t see Brad in this group so I started to move through the crowd to see if Brad might be in the back yard.

One or two guys acknowledged me as I threaded by way through the conversations on the way to the glass doors. I could see into the kitchen—no Brad, no one I knew, no broads, no…..but….

“Hey! Wait a minute!” My head yelled at me, “There aren’t any girls here!”

I froze. I wanted to bolt but guys, chatting in twos and threes, blocked my path back to the front door that I had just negotiated my way through to get to where I was standing. I wasn’t about to start elbowing my way back out. I looked back to the yard and saw that things were just as crowded just outside the door. I would need to be patient.

I started to edge my way sideways when a 30-ish looking guy with blonde, curly hair stopped my progress. He had the look of the surfer types that were getting to be more prominent in Southern California. A can of beer was being waved in front of my nose.

“Have a drink?” He said through a broad, white smile. “I just opened this one.”

“No, thanks.” I held my hand up. “I get sick when I drink that. Besides, I’m just leaving.”

“Leaving? You just got here!” He put the beer on a nearby table, “So, what are you drinking. I’ll get you something.”

“Well, you gotta have something! How about a Coke?” He reached around one of the people standing in a group next us and grabbed a can of soda out of his hand. “I just saw him open this one, too!”

I had to laugh at that one. This guy really didn’t want me to get away. By this time, I had gotten the picture. I felt like I was on the front end of a line of bullshit just like the ones I tried to use on the girls.

“You look like you were looking for someone.” He jumped in with that fast to keep the conversation going.

I didn’t want to be totally rude so I said, “Yeah. I’m looking for Brad but I don’t see ‘em. I was going to meet him here but, since it looks like he isn’t here, I think I’ll split.”

“I know a guy named Brad!.” I saw the smile again as he firmly grabbed me by the arm. “Let’s go find him. By the way, my name is Thad.”

“So, Thad….Brad asked me up here but he didn’t tell me what it was about….So, I’d better get going.” I started to pull toward in the direction of the door; Thad and my arm were heading the other way. I decided to go with it for a minute. “Whose place is this anyway?”

Thad stopped and looked at me with a surprised look. “Well, this is Kirk Dickerson’s place. He does these parties all the time.”

Thad was talking about a fairly well known movie star. There had been a lot of rumors about him but I discounted them all. No one that good looking could be into guys—the girls wouldn’t let him.

“Ah, well, things we find out!” Thad grinned, as he steered me out the back door and onto the patio. “Here…have a seat…relax.” He positioned me next to knee high brick planter and sat me down.

“Hey! You’re gonna have a Coke even if I have to give it to you through a feeding tube.” Thad turned and started to walk to the bar that had been set up across the patio. He looked over his shoulder, held up the palm of his hand toward me and barked, “Sit! Stay!”

My urge to run away had abated. I figured I might as well look around. It might be the only time I would ever have the chance to see a place like this and people like this. Someday I could tell my grandchildren that I had been to a party at Kirk Dickerson’s house.

There were the same groups of twos and threes standing around on the patio as there had been standing around inside. But now I noticed arms on each other’s shoulders and even around each other’s waists. Over in the corner, I saw one guy start to put his hand down the back of his friend’s swim trunks. I looked away quickly.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that I was actually sitting on the top of a terrace. A few feet away were steps that led down to the next level. I could hear voices and splashing and presumed there was a swimming pool down there.

I looked back to the front and saw Thad, under full steam, with a can of Coke in his hand. “This one IS fresh. I just snagged it out of the cooler and opened it myself!” He said that as if he had just landed a prizewinning trout.

The jazz combo had taken a break. Things were quieter, though there was still the buzz of conversation that had been drowned out by the music. I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of laughter. These people were having fun, indeed!

“So, this guy’s name is Brad?” Thad started up the conversation again. “I don’t know a Brad but that’s not unusual. There are usually a lot of folks here that I don’t know or, for that matter, that Kirk doesn’t know.”

“Why is that?” I figured I might as well find out some information.

“Well—I think you have it figured out by now—either that or you are one hell of a lot more naïve than I thought—our buddy Kirk here likes boys. The more the better!” Thad let out a laugh for emphasis. “And he gets tired of seeing the same old guys around all the time. He likes fresh new faces so he ‘recruits’.”

Thad must have seen the surprise in my face so he continued, “He tells the boys he wants to have back at the next party that they each have to find another friend to bring along or the boys can’t come back to the next party. That way he gets his favorites to come back and also gets to see a selection of new faces at each party.”

I nodded sagely, “What a manipulator!” I thought. Then something dawned on me, “Brad? Brad must have been one of those “boys” at the last party. And Brad asked me to come! Good old Brad! So where the hell was Brad?”

“Well, this all makes me a little uncomfortable.” I said, as I squirmed a little on my perch.

“Oh! I know what you are thinking!” Again, Thad let go one of those great smiles, “You think you have to be into sex with men to be here! That isn’t it entirely. If you want to that’s fine; if not, that’s fine too. Kirk loves sex with young men but he also just likes to see them around. I think it makes him feel younger.”

I must have seemed a little relieved because Thad followed up by saying, “So the deal is just to be comfortable. Have some drinks; have some food; get to know folks; go for a swim, if you want to. You don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to. If someone tries to get too cute with you, it is ok to tell them ‘No’. They will understand. It is an unwritten rule up here that no one pressures anyone to do anything. No body is going to get his feelings hurt—and that includes Kirk!”

I was breathing easier now. I figured I could take it easy and just see what goes on here. What a story!

Thad must have been reading my mind. “Oh! By the way, it is another unwritten rule that no body talks about what goes on up here either. That is a good way to land yourself in a lot of trouble. Libel and slander are nasty words and a “lawsuit” is an even nastier one.” He paused and assumed a more serious look for emphasis, “Besides, most people wouldn’t want it to be known that they were at an all boy sex party?”

I got the point. Celebrities have ways of deflecting a lot of bad press; people like myself would have their lives destroyed if word got out that they were homosexual.

It was a very warm evening, probably still in the 80’s, and I could feel myself perspiring but, at the same time, I felt a little bit of a chill. This was a big deal.

Thad raised his glass to me and said, “Skol, my friend. Enjoy the party. I’ll try to catch up to you later.” With that, he sailed off to go back inside the house.

After a minute, I got up and decided to go down and check out the swimming pool. I wasn’t a big swimmer plus I hadn’t brought my swim trunks, but I figured it would be cooler down there—and maybe a little quieter. The combo had fired up again, even louder this time.

I walked down a long flight of brick steps until the swimming pool came into view. I was twenty feet above the pool when I first saw it. It was a large pool, not Olympic size but probably two-thirds of that. The lighting around it was only fair. Some parts of the cement decking around the pool were well lighted showing lounges, chairs and tables that had people sitting on and around them but there were also lots of shadows in the corners. There was a bright light beneath the surface of the water that put the bodies in the pool in stark silhouette. Most of the forms in the pool were couples—embracing.

I descended farther and got to the level of the decking. I saw clothes and towels strewn in piles around the far edges of the deck that had a lot of water on it. Some of the water had trickled over and obviously soaked towels and clothes alike. No one seemed to be concerned about that situation—everyone seemed too busy.

A few of the boys around the pool were wearing swim trunks; a few had towels wrapped around their waists; but most were simply naked. Some of them were just sitting and talking; many were in romantic embraces: kissing and caressing; a few were unquestionably having sex: blowjobs, sixty-nine, and ass fucking all appeared to be equally represented. Of those in the pool, about half were around the edges doing oral and anal sex and the other half were coupled in the water trying to keep from drowning while experimenting with aquatic sex. Here and there I could see an unattached person masturbating while viewing the orgy. No one seemed in the least bit concerned that others might be watching these intimate activities.

“You look hot, honey.” The voice came from behind me.

“I’m really not interested in playing right now.” I answered over my shoulder

“No, man. I mean you really look hot—like uncomfortable in those clothes. It’s a hot night.” The voice had a ring of sincerity and not of smarmy lust.

I turned around and saw a boy wearing swim trunks sitting on a deck chair. He looked to me to be in his 20’s, dark hair, latin looking. His hands were on the arms of the chair. He wasn’t doing anything but watching.

“You should cool off. Take a dip in the pool.” His voice was even as he dispensed his advice. “But I wouldn’t jump in with my clothes on, if I were you.”

I had to laugh at that remark. “I wasn’t planning on it.” I said, “I wouldn’t want to get my wallet wet. But I don’t have any swim trunks so I think I will pass.”

“Well, man. Its like you are going to stand out walking around fully clothed.” Again, the even tone of voice of a counselor, “And, frankly, I don’t think anyone is really going to notice another person in the pool wearing his jockey shorts. Then again, naked would be fun, too.” I detected a hint of smarm in that last comment.

The air was relatively humid for Southern California and I was feeling pretty sweaty. “What the hell!” I thought as I pulled off my shoes, socks, pants and shirt. I didn’t take off my shorts. I made sure I tossed my clothes far enough away from the pool to keep from getting wet. I was aware of my dark haired friend eyeing my body as I stepped off the side of the pool into the deep water.

The water was cool but not cold. It was not the shock to my system that I was expecting; in fact, the sensation was very pleasant. My guess was that the water was in the low 80’s, cool enough to be invigorating, warm enough to be comfortable. I swam under water for a distance and surfaced in the shallow end of the pool. When I stood up, the water only came up to my waist.

The air temperature and the water temperature were pretty close. I didn’t feel any of the goose bumps I was used to feeling on my wet body. The air stirred a little; it felt like hands lightly brushing my skin. One other thing: the water hadn’t been cold enough to make my dick shrink; my cock actually seemed larger as I looked down on it. It must have been the refraction of the water, except that it felt a little larger too.

I looked back to where I had entered the pool and saw my latin friend sitting on his chair waiving at me. “Nice job, Esther!” He yelled in my direction. (He was referring to Esther Williams the swimming star and actress of the 1940’s and 1950’s.) I flipped him the bird.

I pulled myself out of the pool and walked back to where my clothes and my newfound advisor were. Somehow, an empty chair and a clean towel had materialized. I grabbed the towel and began to dry off. I looked down as I dried myself and was shocked to find that my jockey shorts were practically transparent when they were wet. The shape of my cock could be clearly seen by anyone who wanted to look at it. It was then that I became uncomfortably aware that my every move was being scrutinized my Mr. Brown Eyes.

“I’m Sal. What’s your name, Esther?” The grin was unmistakably good-natured.

“Kirk.” I said, trying not to be too voluble.

“Kirk?” He shot back with a laugh. “Really your not bullshitting me. Your name is really ‘Kirk’?”

“Yeah, it is!” I was a little puzzled at his reaction. Then I remembered who my host was, Kirk Dickerson. “Small world!”

“You’re new to this scene?” Sal asked, in a matter of fact way.

“Yeah. I’ve never been to anything like this before.” I had the feeling I could level with him. Besides, who cares? It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone with my expertise and prowess.

“I figured.” He said as he turned in his chair to face me. “You’ve got a great cock but…well….it ain’t hard yet. First timers are usually a little inhibited.”

“Hey! I didn’t know what I was getting to here.” I started to give him the explanation I had been formulating ever since I discovered what this party was all about. “This was all Brad’s idea. And where the hell is he?”

“Brad? Don’t know him.” He was looking straight at my cock now. “But you and I are old friends now.”

I felt the urge to move away to grab my clothes but I was rooted to the spot, looking at Sal looking at my cock. There was another urge coming over me that I couldn’t resist. Despite all my desires to the contrary, I could feel my cock starting to get hard—and I couldn’t stop it!

“You know? Those shorts are soaking wet. We’ve got to do something about that.” Sal was slowly reaching out toward me, all the time with his eyes fixed on my stiffening penis. “It looks like that cock of yours is getting so cold that it is freezing rock solid!”

I could feel my prick beginning to stand straight up beneath my underwear but I didn’t want to look down to verify it. My eyes followed Sal’s right hand as it continued toward me. I saw his fingers pinch the elastic waistband of my shorts and begin to tug them off of me. When I didn’t move back, he brought his left hand into the game. It didn’t take long to make real progress in peeling my wet shorts off of me.

My hard cock sprang in to view as he drew my underwear down over it. It wobbled a little and then got even harder and stiffer. Now, I was pretty familiar with my own hard-on but this was as hard and shiny as I had ever seen it. As Sal pulled my shorts down over my legs, he leaned forward and the hair on the top of his head brushed my cock. That sensation spurred my prick into another stage of hardness.

When he raised his head again, Sal wasn’t looking at me; he was gazing at my cock almost like the subject of hypnosis gazes at the object that precipitates the trance. It occurred to me that I was looking at Sal the same way. I was transfixed.

The fingers of his right hand began to caress the shaft of my cock as his left hand cupped my balls. He began to move his fingers lightly up and down the top of my shaft as his thumb worked its way up the underside. At the top of his stroke, his thumb teased the underside of my glans causing a spasm to shoot down my cock and into my groin. My cock began to swell even more; the engorged blood it contained strained against the tissues—It was beginning to be so sensitive that it was painful.

He pulled my cock down so its head was pointing directly at his mouth. He continued to stroke the shaft as he licked the bead of precum off the head. His lips kissed the top of my cock and then his mouth opened to allow his lips to close around it. Slowly he kissed my cock into his mouth, forcing its head across his tongue deeper and deeper. He sucked with short strokes at first and then took almost all of my 7” cock into his mouth and held it there

He moved his head in a twisting fashion as he moved my cock in and out between his lips. He continued to up stroke my shaft with his right hand as my shaft slid out of his mouth; his hand worked a firm down stroke as his mouth descended on my cock again. He did this again and again, picking up speed with each stroke and using firmer grip and suction with each stroke.

His head and hands were moving fast now. He was like he was possessed and couldn’t stop. I heard him moan and felt the sound vibrate his palate against the head of my cock. This turned into a rhythmic grunting sound as he worked my cock harder and more furiously. It was as if he was begging me to come.

My thighs began to quiver as I thrust my hips forward to drive my cock deeper in to his mouth. My tummy was going into spasm and I could feel the muscles deep inside start to contract to make my semen work its way up my cock.

When I came, it was like an explosion. After my first spurt, Sal pulled his head away trying to swallow what I had given him. The second gush caught him on the face and went into his eyes. He opened his mouth again just in time to capture the third, fourth, and fifth blasts of cum. As I held my tummy tight, I could feel the rest of the spurts, ever diminishing in strength, shoot their way into his mouth. He held my cock in his mouth as the spasms subsided. After my cock stopped its dance and started to get softer, he let it slip from between his lips with a little “pop”.

He grabbed a towel off the arm of his chair and wiped off his face and then wiped down my limp cock. He was very gentle with my cock as he worked the towel over it. His eyes still cast their admiring gaze at my cock as he finished his work.

“Mmmmmm.” Sal cooed, as he finally looked back up at my face and licked his lips. “You are a salty man! Good but salty!”

“Grab your towel.” Sal was out of his trance and back in action now. “Let’s prowl a little. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

With that, Sal dove into the pool and swam under water to the opposite side. As his head broke the surface, he turned, raised a hand and waved beckoning me over to his side of the pool

I was still a little weak in the knees from that terrific orgasm but I summoned the energy and walked to the edge of the pool. I wadded my towel up and threw it across the pool as hard as I could. It landed, nice and dry, just at the edge of the decking. Then I dove in naked, feeling the freeing sensation of the warm water flowing against my bare skin, and swam over to where Sal was gripping the side of the pool.

Sal was all smiles when I got there, “Nice dive, Esther!” He said as he pulled himself out of the pool. He still had on his swim trunks.

I pulled my self out of the water being careful not to snag my cock on the rough cement of the lip of the pool. I wrapped my towel around my waist. It pretty much fit around my waist but it left a gap by my right leg as I walked and it only reached half way down to my knees. I thought that would make it interesting if I tried to sit down; the view up to my crotch would be pretty much unimpeded.

“Let’s go this way.” Sal motioned to me to follow him as he walked toward a small building at the far end of the pool just beyond the diving board.

On the way, we passed several couples “making out”—it seemed odd to me to think of using this term when it came to guys kissing and petting each other. But that was the situation and they were as passionate with each other as any boy and girl could have been. Tongues were being sucked, nipples were being pinched, and hands were disappearing underneath the swim trunks and towels. I had to admit it was making me a little hot again.

I walked behind Sal over to the pool building and followed him through the door to the left. It was dim in side the room but there was enough light to see what was in there. The room was maybe 20’X40’ with an array of doorless cupboards on one wall and several benches on the floor in front of them. To my right, the entire far wall was one big mirror in front of which were racks of free weights, a rowing machine, and a stationary bicycle. There were some thick moving pads on the floor near the weights. The near wall had some pegs protruding from the wall with clothes hanging on some of them and another row of benches.

There were eight or ten men in there, sitting or laying on the benches, enjoying sex with each other. There was a man sitting on a bench getting a blowjob from his partner kneeling in front of him. Two others were leaning up against the wall down near the big mirror stroking each other’s cock and looking at their reflection. One man was bent over getting his ass fucked while he gave head to another guy sitting on a bench.

Sal walked down the middle of the room toward the couple on the pads at the far end of the room. This tall, well-built man was kneeling behind a young surfer type, using his cock to ream the young surfer’s ass. From the look of it, the tall fellow was enjoying it; from the sound of it, the surfer was enjoying it. I had to do a double take, though. The tall guy was none other than Kirk Dickerson!

“Hey, can I cut in?” Sal said to Kirk as he got closer to him. “You know my ass is as good as his! Better in fact!”

Kirk looked up at Sal and laughed. “Get over here and get lubed up!” Kirk threw a tube of something toward Sal. Then he said to his partner, “Honey, let’s triple up.”

With that, Kirk withdrew his cock from the boy’s ass and rolled him over on his back. Sal stripped off his swim trunks. I couldn’t help but notice how small his cock was; I mean it was very small. Sal applied the ointment to the crack of his butt; knelt down in front of the surfer, spread the boy’s legs apart. As Sal leaned over to take the boy’s cock in his mouth, Kirk positioned himself behind Sal and began to probe Sal’s asshole with his cock.

I just stood there and watched. This was better than any porn film I had ever seen. That was definitely the case, since most of the porn films were grainy black and white productions that looked like they had been done in the 1940’s. There was porn around then not like today. Like I said, Playboy with girls with airbrushed pubic hair was still considered too racy to be kept anywhere but under the bed. There were some “adult theaters” but those films were awfully tame. There were no porno arcades. Adult bookstores consisted “gentlemen’s” pictorials featuring “cheesecake” models with their hands covering the nipples on their naked breasts and an assortment of “naturist” magazines showing long shots of naked men and women playing volleyball.

The show I was getting here was quite a treat! I was getting to see one movie star butt fuck another—for free!

Kirk was giving Sal’s ass a real going over. I think Kirk had almost gotten to the point of shooting his wad when Sal walked up. Now Kirk had to work up is load again and it looked like he was becoming a little impatient. He pounded Sal’s hard; Kirk’s balls audibly slapped against Sal’s ass. Sal worked on the surfer’s cock with his mouth as Kirk did Sal’s ass.

Surprisingly, the surfer shot his load first. It was a huge white, creamy gush of cum that spewed straight up in the air as Sal pulled his head off of the kid’s cock. It splashed onto the surfer’s tanned tummy while the second load began to run down Sal’s fist wrapped around the cock. It kept flowing and flowing. This kid must have really been saving up. It was impressive.

Sal was licking up the kid’s cum off his hand when Kirk came. It was obvious. Kirk stopped pumping, pulled Sal’s butt cheeks toward him, threw his head back and let go a loud cry. I could see Kirk’s fanny twitch as his cock shot his load into Sal’s ass. Sal was moaning in pleasure, half from getting his ass filled with Kirk’s sperm and half from the sweet taste of the surfer’s cum. That was impressive, too!

Kirk pulled his cock out of Sal’s ass and wiped both Sal and himself off with a nearby towel. “Sal, you are right.” Kirk cooed, “Your ass is just the sweetest!” He gave Sal’s but a firm but friendly slap, stood up, and started to move off toward the door. Even though his cock was limp now, it looked large hanging there and it swayed as he walked away.

No sooner had Kirk left than a middle-aged man took his place behind Sal. This guy was balding with a fleshy chest covered with thick gray hair. He had that middle-aged paunchy belly that was trying to conceal a medium sized hard-on. But there was enough clearance for his cock to accomplish its mission as thrust its hardness into Sal’s ass. It slid right in, Sal already having already been comfortably stretched by Kirk’s cock and lubed to perfection by Kirk’s cum.

Sal sighed as he felt the new cock slide into his ass. “I need another cock!” Sal exclaimed, looking around for another blowjob candidate. By this time the surfer boy had already slid out from under him. A few feet away was a black man with the physique of a dancer sitting cross-legged on the pad massaging his penis into an erection. Sal looked over and gave him a nod. The black man scooted over and lay himself down on his back perpendicular to Sal’s body. Sal swallowed the man’s cock whole.

I began to look around the room to see what else was happening. There were a few more men inside now and the temperature in the room was rising. Even in the poor lighting I could see perspiration glistening off the bodies as they engaged in their pursuit of pleasure. There was a tangy-heady scent of sweat and semen punctuated by the slip-slap-slurp sound of bodies using those fluids to lubricate their efforts. The sounds were the sighs, grunts and moans of sex. There wasn’t a lot of conversation other than an occasional, “Oh, Yeah, baby!”, or “Yeah, that’s it, that’s it!”, or suchlike.

I saw a lone person walk through the doorway at the far end of the building. He looked to be in his 20’s, average build, about my height but well muscled. He was naked—not even carrying a towel—proud of his body. His cock was in shadow. I found myself walking toward him, my eyes on his crotch. For some reason, I had this urge to see what his penis looked like.

As I neared, I could make out that he had a compact, flaccid, circumcised penis. It wasn’t hanging; it looked firm. He stopped a few feet inside the door but I kept walking toward him, still looking at his cock. When I got to him, I stopped and faced him. We were the same height so we saw eye-to-eye, literally. He lowered his eyes and bowed his head ever so slightly as if in a nod. He was directing me to look again at his cock. I nodded in response and looked down.

His penis was starting to get hard, straighten out and stand up. While it looked smallish before, it now began to look large—and it got larger. It didn’t take long for it to reach its 7 inches; it was thicker than I thought it would be, too.

He leaned back against the wall. I knelt down in front of him. My eyes were at the exact level of his hard cock. Even the dim light couldn’t impede my inspection of his phallus. It had a perfect shape; it almost looked sculpted. The head spread out from the center of a taut pee-hole; the contours of the shaft showed the signs of circumcision but not disfigurement; his balls hung below in a tight scrotum. All of this was placed in the center of a lush thatch of curly-soft pubic hair. I hadn’t ever really thought this before of another man’s penis but it looked “delicious”!

I ran the fingers of my right hand up and down the side of his shaft; I cupped balls in my left hand. I opened my mouth and descended on the shiny head of his cock. It was a little bit of a stretch to get my lips over the head but once inside my mouth it felt like it fit comfortably. I could the underside of his penis against the surface of my tongue and I could feel the head and the shaft begin to swell a little at this friction. I moved my head forward forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. It felt solid, yet rubbery and—one other thing—spicy!

There was a scent about this man, musky, salty, and tangy. It made me want to take his cock even deeper into my mouth. I forced my head forward pushing as hard as I could until I thought I couldn’t get any more of in into me. As I held him there in my mouth, I could feel him begin to press forward with his hips putting more pressure on the back of my mouth. I had a sensation that I was going to gag; I tried a swallowing motion to suppress my gag reflex. He kept pressing his cock forward, gently but firmly as I continued to try to swallow. He stopped and I just held him again in my mouth. Then it was I who forced forward again. I just had to have as much of this man in me as I could manage.

I backed off a little and then moved my head forward again, and then back again, and then forward again. With each stroke I took more and more of his cock. I could feel it at the back of my throat now and I could feel the barest brush of his lush pubic hair against my nose. I was feeling confident now so I went for it. With my hands on his hips, I pulled him toward me while at the same time I bobbed my head forward. I felt the head of his cock insert itself into my throat and I felt against my nose and lips the firmness of his abdomen behind the thicket of his pubic hair.

By now, I was feeling no gag reflex what ever but I was feeling this full satisfied sensation in my mouth, against my tongue, and down my throat. It was unusual but lovely. It sent a tingle of electricity down my throat, down my tummy, all the way to my cock causing it to twitch and stiffen.

I picked up the pace on his cock now, moving my head faster back and forth, pulling almost all of the way off his cock and plunging it again deep into my mouth. I moved my hands off his hips and circled the base of his shaft with them, holding him steady as I mouth fucked him. Faster, faster, faster.

It happened suddenly—I wasn’t expecting it. It happened in the middle of an “out stroke”. I felt his cock swell and then I felt this huge gush of warmth into the back of my mouth. It was strong! It seemed like someone was powering the liquid into my mouth from a hose. I did gag when this happened.

I pulled my mouth off his cock and tried to swallow what had been shot into my mouth. At the same time I felt more ropes of cum splash onto my face; I could smell the heady scent of semen as it spurt against my nose; I could taste the salty flavor of his sperm. My hands kept stroking his cock all the while it ejaculated over me. More cum dripped onto my hands, arms and shoulders. This guy had a huge load!

Gradually, the spasms of his orgasm subsided. I knelt there holding his softening penis, looking at the last of his cum drip out of it. He reached out, stroked the top of my head and wordlessly moved away.

I was left on my knees, staring at the painted cement wall with cum running down my cheeks and arms and the after taste of his load in my mouth. I grabbed my towel from around my waist, wiped myself off, and got up and left the building without looking back.

Nearly in a trance, I walked around the pool to where I had left my clothes. I sat down on the chair that Sal had been sitting in when I met him and looked out over the pool. Men were still playing, there was the sound of splashing and jocularity, and there was the slight movement of the outside air to cool me off. I felt as if I were above myself looking down on the scene. Whatever the definition of tranquility, I believe I was feeling something very like it at that moment.

I had discovered something about myself that night. No, I had discovered a lot about myself! All of the wretched feelings I had about girls and dating, all of the self-torture I had submitted myself to in the name of being “one of the guys”, all of the fear below the surface that I might be sick, twisted or different, all of these things evaporated. It was like getting out of a swimming pool feeling washed and clean by the water, feeling the moisture being whisked off my skin by the breeze, feeling the freshness of the air after having to hold my breath under water.

I reveled in the elation of that moment. Then I began to become aware of another sensation. I was horny again. That guy I sucked off caused me to build up a huge load of my own!

I got up from the chair, left my clothes and towel behind, and went off to find Mr. Kirk Dickerson!

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