A long, hot summer - Sex Stories

A long, hot summer

The summer after I graduated from high school, in the mid-eighties, I took a part-time job three evenings a week that left my days free. My best friend Harry and I decided to spend the summer goofing off; the first week after school ended we kicked around a different part of town each day. The Monday after that, when he came over I was out behind our house looking through the old cottage, as we called it; half was an old garage filled with old stuff, the other half was an old apartment too dilapidated to rent out any more. “Hey, Bill,” he said, coming in the door. “Hey.” “Got something here,” he said, holding up his backpack. “What?” “Found my dad’s mags.” My ears immediately perked up. When he pulled out four magazines, I said, “Hand me one.” We were both frustrated virgins with no real access to porn, so this was a godsend. He handed me a Playboy and we sat down against a wall and started looking hungrily at the pictures. Soon we each had full-on erections we tried to conceal, though after a few more minutes the embarrassment passed. After half an hour, he said, “Wanna switch?” “Yeah,” I said. After another half hour I had a painful pair of blue balls, and Harry seemed equally afflicted. He said, “Okay, time for the harder stuff,” and pulled out a pair of Penthouses after putting away the Playboys . In the past I had found the pictures in it too raunchy, but this time I found them a bit too tame; as I stared at a woman’s inner lips spread wide open for me, I sighed and ...

... said, “I wish she was here. And, you know, interested.” He nodded and said, “I can’t take it any more. Look that way.” He unbuckled and unzipped and let his jeans fall to his knees. I was shocked but also fascinated as I stared at his cock jutting outwards in profile view, only about five inches long but very thick, throbbing and dripping at the tip. He grabbed the shaft and pounded away with his fist, and in about a minute sprayed a dozen thick ropes of cum all over the cement floor. He then sat down and leaned back in exhaustion. I was incredibly turned on. After I had hit puberty, showering after gym class had been an ordeal, trying not to stare at the other boys as they showered and, above all, trying to stay limp. While no one ever talked about it, I was sure all the other boys masturbated as much as I did, and I had often fantasized about me with one or more of my classmates—male or female didn’t matter when I was close to orgasm in the evenings. My cock was about to erupt in my pants, so Harry looked up in surprise (but not, I noticed, distaste) and watched avidly as I stood up and stripped off my pants; I soon mingled my sperm with his as I imagined my fist a splayed-open cunt. I sat down myself and looked over. Even limp his cock was a full five inches that rested in his lap like a miniature fire hose, while mine shrunk down from seven and a quarter inches (a figure I had measured repeatedly by that point, never finding it to grow any longer) to a mere acorn peeking out ...