As the sands of time are rapidly running out for me, I find myself reminiscing my past. Whilst my earthly life has but a brief period to run, my sex life effectively died some years ago. All I have is memories, so it is not surprising sex plays a dominant role in my thoughts.
As an old man, in my seventies, who has been given the nod by my doctors that my days are numbered, I spend a lot of time looking back at my life. Recalling what I have done and achieved. Regretting the things I should have done and did not do. I don’t suppose for a moment this is unusual, but when it happens to you, it takes it out of you, initially at least.
Do not get me wrong, I have come to accept my imminent demise and am mostly at peace with it. I think the song, Angels, sums up my feelings best – “I’m not scared of dying, I just don’t want to.”, yet.
I never planned on these thoughts going public. It was just a few scrappy notes for my own consumption. The ramblings of an old man, as it were. But one of the individuals from the story saw these notes. They thought that others may identify with some of the situations and suggested I tidy them up into a story and post them on your forum. This series, if it goes that far, is the result.
If you are expecting beginning to end, dirty, perverted sex, it’s not for you. Bug out now…no hard feelings. And I don’t profess to be a literary genius; so if my writing style and grammar offend you, you know where the ‘close’ button is!
Part 2 – Teenage Kicks
If you survived part 1, which described the earliest years of my sexual journey, you will recall that after a brief intimate encounter with John, a boyhood friend, my family moved, relocating to central England. A new home, in a new area, meant a new school and I was placed in the local mixed grammar school, in a town some miles from our home. I soon developed a new circle of friends, both in and out of school, to my own surprise, amongst the ‘cool kids’. It was from this group that my next encounter came. Another male-male encounter at that.
One weekend, several of our ‘in crowd’ were hanging out at Peter’s home. It was a large rambling house, where Peter lived with his parents and several older brothers. Loads of rooms and secluded places. All the adults were out that day, either at work or leisure, so we had run of the house. It was common for the group to split into sub-sections. Some boy-girl pairs found quiet corners to kiss and grope. Others to drink or smoke, tobacco or weed. I found myself in a bedroom with Tomsk and a stack of adult magazines; we had previously discovered one of Peter’s brother’s stashes.
The images and stories in the magazine were obviously getting us both worked up, but what came next still quite surprised me. Without preamble, Tomsk stood and dropped his trousers and underwear, revealing a very hard penis, which he started to masturbate. Unlike in my earlier experience with John, I was still fully clothed and stayed that way. But I could not tear my eyes away from what was happening.
Tomsk would glance up at me from the magazine occasionally and grin, he was loving the audience. He continued to stroke until, looking me square in the eye, he climaxed, spurting his semen high into the air, to land on the floor in front of himself. Casually, Tomsk adjusted his clothing and went back to thumbing through the magazine, as if nothing had happened.
My own erection was huge and painfully hard now and I desperately needed my own relief. But for some reason I did not want to expose myself. Strange, as I had and still have, no qualms about same-sex acts, but it just did not feel right. I guess I just did not feel it for Tomsk and did not want to give the impression I did.
Anyway, fortunately Tomsk soon got bored with the wank mags and went to join the smokers for a cigarette. I at once went to the bathroom, locked myself in and furiously wanked my cock to orgasm, shooting my load into the toilet bowl; at least someone did not have to clean up the floor after me! Tomsk, soon thereafter, became the first of our group to have full on sex with one of the girls and had a higher hit rate than any of us, especially me.
When we first moved to my new home, a neighbour’s daughter, Janet, had virtually been forced by her parents to come and ‘make friends’ with my sister and I. Janet was a year younger than I, so definitely not at all cool for my elder sister to associate with. And to be honest, I was not over enthused either. Janet was a skinny, dark-haired tomboy who, at first, I found immature and annoying. She attended the local comprehensive school and was part of a group, mostly of other girls her age, from our immediate neighbourhood. There were a couple of lads, but I did not have much time for them either.
As mentioned, my own school was situated some miles away and had a wide catchment area. So, my school friend group was also widely distributed. It was not always practical to meet up with them out of school hours, especially during the week, as they were mostly much more focused on their studies than was I. Thus, despite my misgivings, I found myself associating increasingly with Janet and her girl-gang. For at least a year, our associations were quite innocent. Oh, there was a bit of flirting. Some occasional giggly kissing. And a little mild petting. But to the best of my knowledge there were no more intense relationships. That started to change, for me at least, the next summer.
We were all maturing emotionally and physically, and as is the norm, the girls were getting there faster than the boys. I slowly started to see them as less of an irritation, to be tolerated for my own convenience, and more as young women, nice for us young men to be around.
The flirtations increased and conversations more risqué. A few individuals started to ‘couple up’ and would disappear for privacy where possible. Talk often turned to sex. What we liked, what we had done, whom we had done it with – the majority of which was bollocks. Having a separate school life to the others, I could get away with more bullshit than most, who really did know who was doing whom. I was having the odd, brief fumble, but nothing like I claimed. Still, the lies piqued the interest of some.
I cannot recall exactly how it began, but one day I found myself alone with Janet and several of her girlfriends. Long story short, a strip game started. A couple of the girls were soon down to underwear, which I found highly arousing. Fortunately, I was, more or less, still fully clothed as my penis was rapidly becoming erect.
Then surprise, surprise. I suffered a, no doubt engineered, catastrophic run of bad luck. Down to my underpants, I lost the next round too. I had nowhere to hide. I’d been insisting the girls honoured their losses by shedding a garment. I could not get out of it and the jeers and sniggering from the girls reinforced that fact. I stood and shed my briefs. My raging hard on now presented in all its glory. The room had fallen silent, the sniggering stopped. I should have been mortified, but the, dare I say, admiration gave me an unbelievable rush. I made no attempts to cover up.
At my insistence, and I had a bit of bargaining power now that I’d bared all, the game went on. A few more outer garments were lost, leaving more of the girls in just their underwear, and leaving me drooling with anticipation of the first naked girl. But before I got my own eyeful, the spectre of parental return raised up and the host stopped the game, and we all collected our clothes and redressed. I was disappointed. But it was not a total loss. I had seen more of most of the girls than I had before, virtually all were down to bra and knickers, and stiff nipples were on view through the fabric.
My focus though was mainly on Janet throughout the game. I could not help noticing that the skinny tomboy was blossoming into a stunning young woman, the main cause of my previously mentioned erection. Later that night, I replayed the day’s events in my mind and conjured up that image of Janet from earlier. I masturbated twice that night; the first time I managed back-to-back wanks to orgasm.
Another positive outcome of the game was that my popularity seemed to have grown. I have never professed to have anything other than an average, at best, size penis, but it had apparently impressed to some degree. I found myself invited to join in with more of the girl-gang’s activities, which got me a few more fumbles; some breast touching over and under clothes, even a vulva grope over knickers. Tame, yes. But progress.
To my delight, the best outcome was that Janet was much more approachable. We had not yet had any physical contact, but the dynamic between us had changed. We became much closer within the group and the two of us also started to hang out increasingly on our own. We were near neighbours and would often meet up in each other’s gardens or houses, especially when our parents were at work.
We were both quite reserved at first. Afraid to push too hard, lest we spoil our growing friendship. Inevitably though, the subject of the strip-game eventually cropped up in the conversation. Did I remember what happened? How could I forget! Was I scared? At first, yes, but I admitted that secretly I had enjoyed being naked in front of the girls.
Janet had no male siblings, just an elder sister, and her parents were very strict, so it came as no real surprise when she said that mine was the first erect penis she had ever seen. (1970’s, so no internet, no porn, except a few mens magazines, Penthouse, Mayfair, Fiesta, etc. lots of breasts and bush, but little else, and absolutely no erect cocks!). Sex education in those days was also virtually non-existent. A few anatomical drawings in well thumbed textbooks.
Janet said seeing me hard had helped put a few things in perspective, but that she still did not know much about male anatomy. I knew what was coming. Would I let her see my penis again? For some reason, I said I’d have to think about that; who was I kidding, I could not wait to get my tackle out again for her, but I wanted to tease a little bit.
A couple of days later, we found we had the whole day to ourselves, as all our parents and siblings were out at the same time. We spent the morning on a bike ride to a local park, but none of our friends were there. We played pitch and putt golf and then biked back, to eat the lunch left for us at my home. After we finished, Janet got a bit fidgety, and her normal chatter fell silent. I knew exactly what was on her mind, but I played the bastard and avoided the elephant in the room. She finally plucked up the courage. Had I thought about what she asked? I played her along for a while more, before agreeing to her request, but that it had to stay strictly between us, no blabbing to her girlfriends; she agreed.
We moved upstairs to my bedroom, which was actually strictly out of bounds, but seemed to be the right place for this exposure. Janet sat on the end of the bed, opposite my desk. I got quite shy, and turned away to remove my trousers and pants, before sitting on the edge of the desk opposite Janet. We sat in silence for a few moments, me staring at Janet, staring at my junk. Then the questions started. Why is it soft? What makes it hard? When did you get hair there? What is circumcision? Why aren’t you circumcised? Show me your balls?
I was hardly an expert myself, but I did know my own body. I lifted my penis to better reveal my testicles. I drew back my foreskin to reveal the glans and urethral opening and explained what I knew about the whys and hows of circumcision. With Janet’s rapt attention to my groin and my own touch as I manipulated myself for her, I was soon growing. Soon my cock was rock hard with the foreskin pulled back and the glans engorged and painfully throbbing. I am sure had Janet touched me, I would have orgasmed instantly. That delight though was for another day.
You don’t need to be a Mensa member to work out what I wanted to happen next. It was time for the old ‘I’ve shown you mine, you show me yours’ line. I went for it, which made Janet tear herself away from her examination of me. She stuttered and stumbled, blushing like a beetroot, before declining. I reminded her that I’d already seen her in just her undies, and besides which, I was still stood there, rampant, for her benefit…fair was fair! After more procrastinating, Janet finally stated that she could not take her jeans and knickers off at the moment, because of a girl thing. Would I settle for her top half? Of course, better than nothing.
We swapped positions, I laid down on the bed, still bare arsed, whilst Janet moved to the foot. Like I had, she turned away, hesitated for what seemed ages, then gently pulled the ribbed top she was wearing off over her head, revealing a plain cotton bra. I was holding my breath, dying to scream at her to get on with it, but somehow knew if I pushed it, it would be over. Slowly, very slowly, Janet slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, turned it so the clasp was at her front, undid it, and let it fall to the floor. My heart was pounding. Janet crossed her arms across her breasts and gradually turned to face me. I was losing patience but managed to bite my tongue. I did however gesticulate for her to lower her arms; and bless her heart, she did.
Janet lowered first one arm, then the other, at last revealing her breasts to me; the first non-mother/sister tits I had seen in the flesh. They were magnificent! At least to me they were. They were not big, just A-cup according to Janet. But on her slender frame, they were exactly right. They stood out firm and proud. The flawless, creamy white flesh, tipped with small nipples, centred in coin sized pink areolae. Instinctively, Janet reached up and cupped her breasts and stroked them with the palms of her hands. This caused the nipples to harden, like little cherries. I was speechless. I so wanted to reach out and take them in my own hands but was frozen in place. My cock was harder than I’d ever known it. It twitched with a mind of its own. I was on the verge of cuming without even touching it, but managed to hold off, just.
Her side of the bargain fulfilled, Janet collected her clothes and went to the bathroom to get dressed. I took the cue and did the same. We went downstairs and tried to engage in some ‘normal’ activity, I do not remember what, but our hearts were not in it, and after a short while Janet went home.
I was both disappointed that she had left, but at the same time glad to be alone as I desperately needed relief. I dashed back upstairs, stripped naked and started to masturbate, imagining Janet’s bare tits in front of me. I could have cum instantly, but I was determined to make it last as long as possible. I edged myself to the point of no return several times before finally spurting my semen high into the air, with a ferocity not experienced before, to land on my stomach, chest and face, giving me my first taste of cum. I wondered if Janet had left to masturbate too.
It was to be a while before Janet and I got physical again. For a short while I got together with a girl, Ruth, from my own school. We didn’t last long. Ruth was quite a chubby girl, with large breasts and a reputation for sharing them. We had a couple of liaisons in the woods behind the school when we were supposed to be in lessons, I was skipping school more and more by now; other interests.
Ruth’s reputation was justified. Within minutes of our first outing, those pendulous breasts were in my hands and not longer after my fingers found their way up her skirt, into her knickers and onto a plump, hairy, wet vagina. Next time, a week or so later, Ruth had my penis out and roughly stroked me. It was a wonderful sensation, but somehow it seemed so rushed and easy. Where was the thrill of the chase and coyness I had with Janet. No, I’m not that stupid! I let Ruth finish me off, cuming all down the front of her skirt, which really pissed her off, ending our time together. Rumour had it that Ruth went all the way. Sadly, I would never find out if that were true.
Even during my dalliance with Ruth, Janet and I would still spend time together. The sexual tension was palpable, but we were both too inexperienced to understand what exactly we wanted to happen. Our earlier activities had had the effect of making us more comfortable in each others company. It could even have been said that we were a couple, dating. We would hug and kiss, fondle and grope, though since the bedroom play, we stayed fully clothed. I believe both of us wanted to take things further, I know I did. But we were still procrastinating.
Then one weekend, we found we had another full home alone day. I’d been set some chores to do in the garden, so Janet naturally gravitated to our gaff. Grass cut, borders weeded, and greenhouse windows cleaned, and the rest of the day was free. With our lunch, I stole a couple of glasses of my dad's cider. As we ate and sipped our drinks, we chatted, and as was often the case, the subject turned to things sexual. I mentioned that I had discovered my father’s stash of Fiesta and Mayfair magazines. Janet said she had never seen one, what were they like? We had all afternoon to ourselves, why not I thought.
I went to my dad’s wardrobe and picked out a couple of each of the, well thumbed, top shelf publications and bought them downstairs. We sat at the kitchen table and started flicking through the mags together. I liked the pictures, which were very tame by today’s standards, but still got a rise out of me. Janet looked through a few of the photo spreads, making the odd comment on the poses, breast size compared to herself and how profuse many of the models’ bushes were, ‘70s remember. When I quizzed her on hers, she said it was nowhere near as thick; oh, I so so wanted to find out for myself. She also commented that it was impossible to see their vulvas clearly through the hair, which surprised me a little. She confessed that her girlfriends and she ‘examined’ themselves and each other in detail, she had one over me in that; but that she had never seen a full-grown woman’s fanny in detail, common ground there!
What fascinated Janet most though, was the stories and letters. In truth, I’d never taken that much notice of either, preferring to pleasure myself looking at the naked women. But we sat there at the kitchen table and read some together. One story included detail of a boy, masturbating alone, after an unfulfilling date with a girl; I knew that feeling! Janet looked confused. But it’s girls that rub themselves, boys don’t, do they? she asked. The naivety surprised me. Of course we do, I answered. How do you do it? The same as when you do it to a boy, only using our own hands. I have never done that to a boy; Gulp, this could be an excellent opportunity.
I knew that Janet was au fait with the concept of penetrative sex, that penis in vagina motion led to ejaculation, and pregnancy. The fact that she didn’t realise that a man could cum by other means would not have occurred to me. So, I explained that the sensation of a penis pumping in and out of a vagina could be, to an extent, simulated by rubbing up and down with a hand; my own or someone else’s. Would I show her? Oh, boy! Bargaining had to take place; I know, I’m a bit of a twat! I would show her, but she had to at least strip to give me the incentive I needed. After a bit of persuasion, Janet agreed, but not here in the kitchen. Fine by me.
We cleared the magazines from the table and once again headed for my forbidden bedroom. I had no hesitation in stripping naked, and leaning back against the head of the bed, ready to perform. Janet was much more hesitant. Slowly, she shed her top and jeans, and then turned to me, in her bra and knickers, giving me pleading looks. I wasn’t going to crack. I signalled for her to continue. She turned away, and peeled off her bra, before turning back to reveal her tits once again. I’m sure they had grown. They were certainly as delicious as I remembered. A bit more cajoling from me and Janet resigned herself to her fate. With eyes closed, face towards the ceiling, Janet slowly lowered her pants. At last, I’d seen paradise.
As her underwear fell to her feet, her mound came into view. The area above her genitals sported a triangle of soft, dark hair. It was quite sparse, leaving her outer lips clearly visible to me. There was also just the slightest hint of her inner labia, peeking out from her vaginal cleft. It had been well worth the wait. I stared in silence, more than was polite, but sod politeness. Janet slowly lowered her head and opened her eyes, seeing both the direction of my gaze and my rock-hard cock! She smiled and gave a little chuckle. The shyness barrier was breached. I had told Janet that to be able to rub one out, I needed her to help arouse me. I was totally aroused now, so mission accomplished.
Janet moved to the side of the bed and sat with her feet on the floor. Her position mostly hid her fanny from me, but her perky breasts were nicely profiled, her nipples hard and proud. She nodded to me, my cue to start. I did not need any prompting. I spread my legs a little, firmly grasped my throbbing penis and started to gently stroke. When masturbating, I like to grasp my penis high and slide my foreskin back and forth. Each stroke would in turn reveal, then hide my engorged glans. Janet sat in silence, with her eyes glued to my cock, occasionally licking her lips. To my surprise, after ten or so minutes, varying my grip, adjusting my position and pace, I was not getting there. I stopped stroking, looked Janet in the eye and told her the strange situation, with her just watching me, was holding me back. I thought I could only carry on if she joined me by doing herself. I fully expected her to refuse. I was wrong.
Janet swivelled herself towards me and lifted her right foot onto the bed. This bought her vulva back into sight. Her outer lips were now parted and her moist pink interior glistened, her tiny clitoris peeked out from under its hood. I restarted my stroking, my foreskin now fully retracted and my hand now directly stimulating my purple tip. After a few moments, Janet reached between her legs and touched herself for me. I suppose she was technically masturbating, but I would guess she had no intention of going all out for an orgasm of her own. That did not matter, her ministrations were sufficient to reboot my arousal. I could feel myself edging towards my climax. I decided to try my luck once more. I asked Janet to take over and finish me off. She hesitated, then told me, not this time. I read that as meaning there would be repeat performances, so I didn’t push it and ruin that possibility, so I backed off. She did help me out though, by increasing her own handiwork a little. She used one hand to spread her inner labia, showing me her vaginal opening, whilst using the the other hand to pinch and pull her nipples. That was enough for me. I ejaculated explosively, spurting my cum onto the bed sheets (I’d have to deal with that later) with a couple of shots landing on Janet’s thigh.
Unlike after our previous encounter, Janet did not rush off to get dressed. We talked about what had happened. Janet told me it had really been great to watch me. She’d learned so much from it. Was it okay for me? How could it not be. As we talked, Janet idly massaged my spilled semen into her leg and occasionally caressed her vagina. Later, I worried that this could have proved disastrous, (I had no real idea if you could actually get pregnant by transferring sperm into you from your hand, but the thought frightened me, a lot. A couple of weeks later the worry got too much. I shared my concerns with Janet, but she allayed my fears, she’d had her period as scheduled). Finally, we dressed and tidied up. We kissed goodbye and Janet left for home. I nearly forgot to return the magazines to my father’s hiding place, but fortunately remembered just in time, as the olds were on their way up the driveway.
The magazines became an obsession for Janet, she would ask for us to get them out and read them at every possible opportunity! When we ran out of my dad’s collection, she talked me into buying new ones. I was scared shitless the first time I entered the seedy backstreet newsagents and headed for the top shelf. The bloke behind the counter did not give me a second glance as he took my money. I wasn’t complaining.
The readers letters in particular kept Janet in the game. Her shyness conquered, she would happily get naked with me now, and not only in my bedroom (thinking back though, we never did anything in hers, although her house was as often empty as mine. In fact, her parents seemed to be away most weekends at that time; strange.)
Just a few miles from our neighbourhood was a secluded spot on the River Avon, where teenagers would go to swim, snog and have sex. We would ride our bikes out to it on sunny days. If we had the area to ourselves, which was often, this became another venue for our masturbatory activities.
At first, we just repeated our mutual self stimulation, but slowly we progressed to touching each other, and to the point that Janet would wank me off, making me cum. It was bliss. I would do her too. Rubbing up and down her slit. Inserting my fingers in her vagina and, at her direction, running little circles around her clitoris. She became very wet to my touch, and would make all the right noises, but in truth I am not certain I ever made her orgasm doing that. Then again, selfishly, I never asked.
On a couple of occasions, while our bodies were entwined and manually stimulating each other, my penis oh so close to her wet, beckoning fanny, the inevitable question was asked, by me…are we going to fuck? Janet said she wanted to, and that we would in time, but she was not quite ready yet. Despite it featuring often in the magazine stories, neither of us raised the idea of oral sex. At that time.
A new act did enter our repertoire though. On one of our swim outings, we stopped at the newsagents so I could pick up the latest copy of Fiesta. Down on the riverbank, after a quick swim, we opened the mag to the Readers Wives page, which was always good for a laugh, before heading to the letters. Janet had confessed that although she was not ready for penetration yet, she wondered what it would feel like to have my penis ‘down there’. So a letter describing ‘pussy sliding’ piqued her interest at once. Janet read the letter again, then announced she wanted to try this. Who was I to argue!
A quick check up the riverbank, to the footbridge that gave access to the area we were in, to confirm we were still alone, and off came my swim trunks. I lay back in the grass and Janet took my penis in hand to start teasing it to hardness. Once I was fully erect, she pulled back my foreskin fully and straddled my thighs, facing me. Pulling the crotch of her swimsuit to one side she lowered her bare vulva onto my cock. Her fanny was cold and damp from the river water, which made me flinch and pull away at first. She looked concerned, but I assured her that we were okay, and to carry on. Gently, Janet worked herself down onto me, until the shaft of my hard penis was lodged between her lips. She then started to slowly rock her hips back and forth, rubbing herself against my cock.
At first, the friction on my penis was quite uncomfortable. Gradually though, Janet’s vagina got warmer and wetter, and the motion became smoother and much more enjoyable. The stimulation was intense. At the bottom of her stroke, the tip of my cock would momentarily nestle in her vaginal opening, on the verge of actual penetration and it took all my reserve not to grab her hips and force my way inside. Janet’s thrusting got faster, her vagina hotter and wetter still. I tried my hardest to hold on, but it was in vain. I shot burst after burst, which covered my stomach and lower chest.
Janet was oblivious to my climax and rode on. The continuing rubbing was overstimulating my cock, but there was no way she was stopping. Just when I was at the point where I could stand no more and was about to throw Janet from me, she froze, threw back her head and omitted a low growl. I felt her vagina spasm, once, twice, perhaps half a dozen times. This time I was certain Janet had cum, which she later confirmed. The best she had experienced. The bike ride home was interesting. We were both still quite tender in the nether regions, and Janet said her thigh muscles ached like hell from the rocking back and forth, but it was worth it.
Paraphrasing, “Oh fate, thou art a heartless bitch!”. I was certain we had moved to the stage where the only real option, if we were to continue, was full intercourse. I hadn’t counted on what happened next. Janet arrived at my door in floods of tears. Her parents had just announced that they would be moving away. It was a done deal. Arrangements had been made ‘in secret’ over the past few months, which explained her parents' frequent absences. The move was to occur in a few weeks. Worse, Janet and her sister were to be farmed out to grandparents, while the house was packed and moved. I was unlikely to see her again after today. We hugged and kissed and cried together. We swore to fight against this, whilst knowing there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop it happening. We never got to consummate our teenage relationship. I’m sure it would have been spectacular, for me at least.
It turned out to be academic that Janet left, as I would be off soon myself. My O-level exam results arrived. My lack of interest in my schoolwork, and undoubtedly the over attention to my sexual journey, was rewarded with comprehensive failures in most subjects. My chosen career path was inevitably closed to me, I.e., A-levels then university. Or more correctly, the career path my parents wanted me to choose. I’d always had my heart set on an armed forces career.
With nothing to lose now, I entered the recruitment process. A series of aptitude tests, group and individual practical exercises, and countless interviews, showed I had greater potential than my exam results showed.
By the skin of my teeth, I had scraped through. I just about met the strict entry requirements and was offered a place in an electronics engineering apprenticeship program. Weeks of basic, or boot camp as some know it, followed by a year of intensive initial engineering training, before joining my first unit as a junior engineer, to complete my full training in the field. Not the commissioned officer path I had hoped for, but a well-respected, well-paid ground trade, with rapid promotion prospects and a possibility for future commissioning. I accepted the offer, was attested, and would start my training within a couple of months, still a virgin!