Hi, my name is Michael. You might as well call me Mike; everyone else does. I feel good about my name. I have an older sister named Sunny; if I had been born on the wrong kind of day my mom might had tagged me with a not so pleasant weather descriptive name. Sunny was married in June, four years ago, a couple of weeks after I graduated from high school.
I also feel fortunate that I don't look like my sister. She is five feet tall, small bodied and looks like she might be in her last year of Junior High School.
Her husband's name is Pete. Every thing about him is ultra super - his boyish, good looks - his dark hair and eyes, so unusual for a fair skinned person - he has a lean, well developed body, almost hairless. Also, Pete's tall, long legged and has the cutest, tight, little, pear shaped butt you can imagine (he calls his build adequate) - really super though is his big cock (when it's admired and favorably commented on his only response is that it works). I also like his egg shaped, walnut sized balls. He's hung 8 and cut. He shaves his balls but not his pubes, which are luxurious in quantity and, in my opinion, add something to his cock either soft or erect. I guess I'm of that opinion because the rest of his body is relatively free of hair and his pubic hairs seem to made his sex equipment all the more a special part of his body.
And how do I know what my brother-in-law's privates look like, I'll tell you, but it's a secret so don't tell anyone, especially my sister. OK? But, before I do, just one more thing about him.
Pete's straight. (His only comment about having sex with a queer teenager is - If it's not a problem don't make it one.).
I sure don't have a problem with it.
Now for the secret. Pete and I had our first sex together about a year and a half before I graduated. It was on my seventeenth birthday. At home, in the evening, my dad took me out to the garage and showed me the new, Chevrolet Geo he and mom had bought me for a birthday present. As memorable as that day will always be because of getting my first car, it is even more memorable as the day I met Pete.
It happened on my way home from school. I first saw him, or his big, exciting dick to be exact, though a glory hole in a toilet partition between a stool and a urinal in a public toilet in a park. All I could see was his hard, huge, erect cock sticking up between his legs. Shit I didn't know what the fuck to do, so I pissed, washed my hands, looked back at him, still sitting on the john, walked out and acted like I was having trouble with my bicycle hoping for him to come out.
He wasn't long, asked me if I wanted a cigarette, we told each other our names and one thing led to another.
"I saw you looking at my cock through the hole. You want it?" I turned ten shades of red and managed to mutter back to him, "Yea, really, I mean I really do."
"I hope you're not afraid of me. I saw you checking me out through the hole or I wouldn't have asked. How old are you, Mike?"
"Seventeen. Today's my birthday."
"Well, happy birthday. But, now I'm afraid. You're jail-bait."
"Can't we do it somewhere private, Pete?"
"Well, my office closes early on Friday. I stopped by here after work. It's only four blocks from here. We could ride double on your bicycle if you're sure you want to and leave my car parked here."
"Let's go, Pete."
We did go and we did do it - I mean I sucked him off. I'd sucked off some friends my own age and been sucked off by them and I'd also sucked off a few cocks through the same glory hole where I met Pete but he had the biggest cock I'd ever sucked. Damn, it was so good I couldn't believe it. I really had to work on it though, which was OK by me - my pleasure. He was a long time in shooting his load. That would be true for as long as I knew him. He didn't offer to suck me off in return but said he knew I was still packing a load and he told me to jack off. I did. He watched me.
I knew from his eyes it excited him. Before we left to go back to the park he told me to give him my telephone number. I gave him my cell phone number and told him not to call between 8 and 3 because I'd be in school. He said he'd give me his number but his girl friend was living with him. He assured me that he'd call. I didn't even know the girl friend's name but I was jealous as hell of her. I wanted to suck Pete again - so bad! I hated thinking of him fucking a girl.
For a week, I waited expectantly for him to call.
He didn't.
I was frantic for a while and then gave up. Like all the other guys whose cocks sticking through the glory hole that I'd sucked, I figured it was a case of wham, bam and thank you man. A one-time deal.
Then, a month later, he called. His live-in girl friend had dumped him, he told me where he lived and wanted me to come over after school. When I got there I knew he'd just smoked a joint and was drinking a beer. He gave me a beer; we went into his bedroom, got undressed and into his unmade bed. He was hot, there was no way he could have faked it, he was desperate for a blowjob. He needed to cum.
He did. He shot off twice.
We were out of bed, he was walking me to the door when he opened dropped to the floor, still naked, as erect as he was when I'd first walked in and opened his legs. He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
I serviced him again. He blew his big nuts again. He told me to let myself out; he was going to go to sleep.
Things soon got better. I really do think that the more you suck the same cock the more you enjoy it. It seems as though you get to know what excites the guy, you begin to do better at it and you even begin to take pride in your work - know what I mean? Then, maybe it's just that you aren't as nervous as you were the first time.
One day he opened the door wearing a bathrobe, untied and open at the front, dropped it on the floor, sat down in a lounge chair, tipped it back and threw his legs over the arms of the chair. I began by just rubbing my cock over his and then it just slipped in his love hole. It really did. I didn't mean to. I was more surprised than he was and sort of embarrassed, I apologized, and started to pull it out but he told me not to.
"Fuck me. Push it back in. All the way in."
I fucked him. I shot my wad deep into his love hole (well, as deep as I could anyway) right between his cute little pear- shaped buns. I think it was then I realized that Pete was probably bisexual but didn't want to admit it. He still had a few hang-ups; he wanted nothing to do with kissing but he got into everything else, cock rings, dildos, ropes, handcuffs, spanking - stuff I'd never dreamed of.
Fucking Pete fucked became as much a part of our routine as did getting his cock sucked. He was as passive as hell but that didn't bother me. Doing stuff with him was so exciting it was easy for me go get my gun off no matter what the sex agenda was for the day. After we'd had sex, we always relaxed together, still naked, just talking about whatever came up. I loved it. In fact I found it one of the best things about having sex with him. I loved just looking at his big cock - soft or hard. I loved listening to him talk. We talked a lot, became good friends and I got to know him better than I'd ever known anyone else. One day he told me his parents were from England; then I knew why he had such a cultured voice and way of speaking.
And, by this time I also knew that I loved him.
As luck would have it his boss invited him to a New Year's Eve party and his wife, who like Sonny, was a nurse at the hospital, invited Sonny. Pete never said but it was a good guess that before she came home he'd taken her to his apartment and fucked her. Then in June, they were married. My mother thought Pete was a God; my dad didn't have a good word to say for him.
Now I was jealous of my sister.
They went on a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii and two days after they got back, and my sister was back at work, Pete called me. He answered the door naked, knelt down in front of the sofa and said: "Oh Mike, all I could thing about in Hawaii was you. Fuck me, fuck me hard, I need to feel you fucking me, getting excited and shooting your load in my ass."
I did as he'd asked.
I guessed Sonny was going to be no different than his girlfriends and I'd survived two of them.
In the third week of August I left home for college - the Geo filled with all my earthly possessions. Two weeks earlier I'd gone there and found a studio apartment above a double garage off the alley of the house where the owner of the property lived. I love it. It had a colonial looking exterior with two dormer windows on each side and a gable end facing the alley was totally glass, impossible to drape but it faced north and there were no two-story houses across the alley to compromise privacy. The kitchen area was compact and there was a large closet plus a storage area in the garage below. The only draw back was the couch that made into a very uncomfortable, backbreaking, double bed. I mitigated that with a 4-inch thick foam rubber pad, which I could roll up, and store in the closet. Planning on summer school all through college I leased it by the year rather than renting.
Both Pete and Sonny had advised me to find something well ahead of the time registration started or be prepared to live in a dorm or a one-room rental. I had taken their advice - a one- room rental sounded too depressing and I didn't know if I could trust myself living in the tower dormitories with so many other young men.
TO BE CONTINUED