Message-ID: <3588eli$9709011202@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: blackkitty@hotmail.com (Patricia Larsen) X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: An Erotic Story, John and Me Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34124032.3043015@news.direct.ca> Copyright 1997 by Phillip James. John and Me One December 24th in the mid-sixties, my friend John and I went hiking on a nearby mountain. The weather was normal for Christmas in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The temperatures was in the forties during the day, below freezing at night. The sky was overcast and we had decided to explore a part of the mountain we'd never seen. At this time, John and I had messed around before but we'd never talked about "it." Our encounters had occurred during sleepovers at my house or his, after the lights were out. I'd lie in the dark, waiting, listening for the rustle of covers, the soft creak of springs, then the sense that John was by my bed. His hand would snake beneath my sheets. I would suppress a moan when his hand cupped the bulge in my Jockey shorts. He'd squeeze and my cock would throb, swelling quickly to its full size. Yes, John had always started the sex play. The size of my cock always fascinated him. It was fat and, even then, a long eight inches of meat. I humped at his hand and he'd let my hard- on out of the confining shorts and begin stroking. I could feel in his grip his intrigue with my cock and every nerve in my body tingled. As soon as he felt my oozing pre-cum, he'd stop and return to his bed, leaving me high and horny. I'd tug my shorts off and make my way in the dark to his bed where he lay waiting. He was always lying atop the covers, naked from the waist down and with his cock standing rigid, awaiting my grasp. His cock fascinated me as much as mine seemed to enchant him. Thinner and shorter than mine, it was the only erection I'd ever held, besides mine of course. It felt absolutely wonderful as I gripped that hot, pulsing shaft, wanting to see it, even to say something.but I knew that a word or a light would break the spell and turn the fun unreality into guilt-ridden actuality. John would hunch upward, wordlessly urging me on. I'd jerk on that cock, feeling its heat, smelling the musky scent that made my mouth water. I would lower my head and slowly let him into my mouth, in the darkness not fearing the naughtiness and names and stigma. It was like a dream and in dreams we can do anything. His cock tasted delicious as it slid over my tongue and tingled my tastebuds. My fingers would toy with his balls and he would moan, arching his back and driving that hard bar of his until the head tickled my throat and his entire piece was between my lips. I always knew when he was about to come. Sixth sense or the sound of his breathing or trembling of his prick or something, I don't know. But I'd take my mouth away just as he started spurting and jack him off. Even though I couldn't see his cum, it excited me to no end to realize that I was making him shoot off. Something else that I never understood. Before he could finish coming, sometimes just as he had started, he'd push me away, as though he was overcome by guilt at our actions. But in the silence and darkness, I was just grateful for the experience. I'd grope my way back to my own bed, grab hold of my cock and beat off, then fall asleep. In the morning, it was always as if I'd dreamed about it. John never mentioned it, never gave the slightest hint that we'd done anything. Had it been a dream on my part? Was the dry cum crusting my shorts merely from a wet dream? But that Christmas Eve day on the mountain changed all that. The previous night had been rainy and cold and ice hung from stone outcroppings. The air was chilly, but we had dressed warmly and the walking itself had us plenty warm. We stopped often, admiring the view, finally finding a large, flat area where we built a small fire. I told John that I had to take a leak. He surprised me when he suggested we have a contest to see who could piss the farthest. We stepped onto a rock and unzipped. I've always been one of those guys who can't piss if anyone is around. So I stood there, dick in hand, not feeling the cold at all. I felt very warm just knowing John was next to me, and I felt him looking at my dick. I watched as he unzipped and fished out his own prick. When I saw that it was half-hard my cock quickly got longer and thicker and hotter. His responded as well until we both stood on that rock with our rock-hard pricks poking out. His looked just like I'd envisioned it on each of those nocturnal trysts. It was a five-inch long pink beauty, circum- cised with blue veins running along it. It curved upward and was capped with a smooth crown that was flushed. Downy light brown curls surrounded the base where it protruded from his fly. My mouth watered as I branded the image of John's cock into my brain, giving form to the unseen pole I'd frigged and sucked so many times in the past. I wanted to see his balls and to use my tongue on him, but I figured I'd let him call the shots. "That's a, uh, big one," John said quietly and haltingly When his hand reached for my poker, I gladly relinquished my grip to let his fingers curl around it. "Hot," he said. I just closed my eyes and moaned and John pumped my prick. Within a minute I felt pre-cum ooze out and John stopped. That's when I discovered that John had thought my pre-orgasmic fluid was my cum. He always came so fast he'd never experienced pre-cum. I told him I wanted him to watch me come. I was going to sit by the fire and jerk off, but John suddenly got an idea. A crazy idea. "Let's put a hole in this ice and you can 'do it' to the hole," he said. He was indicating a frozen sheet of ice several feet long which hung from a boulder like a frozen waterfall. .../assm/faq.html> /