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----- Here's the story of my first actual boy-sex, as such. This happened when I was 10 years old, in the summer between 5th and 6th grade. I always call it "age 10", but it was less than 2 weeks before my 11th birthday, so maybe 11 is closer. I'll stick with precision, though. So you can get the context, right up front: This story describes the first time I "had sex with another boy". I put that in quotes, because I'm using a specific definition of "having sex". (Insert obligatory Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky joke here. :)) With two boys, I'd define "having sex" as oral or anal sex, culminating in orgasm. That's a reasonable place to draw a line, I think. However, in reality, I didn't cross that line in one big leap. I didn't "lose my virginity". My virginity went away by degrees, step by step - as the index page and the other narratives in these memoirs make clear. All that notwithstanding - sucking my best friend Alex's cock and letting him suck mine, was one small step for Danny, but one giant leap for Danny's boyhood. Alex and I were two virgins (though not innocent) that hot August afternoon. It was the beginning of a sexual relationship that lasted about 10 months, and ended on a melancholy note when Alex had to move out of state with his family. I still wonder what would have transpired if he had been able to stay... Alex was one of those special friends, someone you remember forever. I would have loved him even if we'd never done anything more sexual than blow our noses :). He lived in the neighborhood, about 8-10 blocks away from my house. We had known each other since we played on the same youth soccer team at 7 years old. But we'd just started hanging out with each other that preceding school year, in 5th grade. We were in the same class at school, and his last name was near mine in the alphabet, so his desk was right in front of mine. We continued with soccer together for two more summers, through age 9, although Alex didn't play that 10th summer - he got himself a list of lawn-mowing clients and started making bucks :). We liked to go swimming; Alex wasn't on swim team as I was, but we both enjoyed splashing around in the pool, when we could. For those who read the story about Scotty and me just before this one in the index, Alex was occasionally in on the water-game fun - not as often this years as previously, with his business; but it was cool when he showed up. I even helped him with his lawn-mowing jobs a few times, for free. I didn't mind outdoor work, and besides, it was a fun way to be with him. Picture two 10 y/o boys with dark hair, both shirtless and deeply tanned, wearing cut-off Levis and sneakers, one mowing the lawn and the other trimming edges, stopping to throw clumps of grass at each other or stuffing grass down each other's shorts in the back or just chasing and tackling and wrestling, perpetual grins on our faces... If memories are spiritual, we are sanctified, everlastingly. In short, Alex and I hung out alot, with other friends and just the two of us. There is much, much more I could tell about our non-sexual friendship, but if I did, this would be a book in itself and not a single story. We weren't similar in all respects. He was bigger and stronger, for one thing. I was raised Southern Baptist; Alex was Jewish (one of the very few Jewish kids in our neighborhood, in fact - Christian folks are the overwhelming majority down South.) But we were alike in temperament - neither shy; both extroverts; both rebellious; both "passionate" about all of life (not just sexually); both thrill-seekers; both willing to try anything new, and neither afraid of a dare. The right combination for going all the way, sexually. And for getting into trouble generally :). During that summer, the two of us got into a rebellious behavioral habit - smoking. Neither of us liked smoking (we eventually admitted to each other). But it was forbidden, and therefore cool. I had been sneaking cigarettes from my mom since age 7, mostly to impress my friends. That summer with Alex was about the only time I smoked with any regularity; eventually, my mom realized her cigs were disappearing a little more rapidly than she could account for, and put a permanent stop to it (before I got hooked, luckily). But it was fun with Alex, that summer. We used to go sit up on the roof of my house and smoke cigarettes and shoot the shit. We though we were soooo cool! :) We actually were a great pair - Alex was taller and bigger than me, better at most sports, and overall I thought he was a cooler kid than me, really. But, I had two things that made me certified-cool at age 10 - I could get cigarettes, and I knew all about sex. As luck had it, my family's house was located and built so that anyone sitting on the rear-facing part of the roof was mostly invisible. To the rear of our house was our neighborhood elementary school. The school building itself was off to the right, and some distance away; directly behind was a vacant sandlot where we played baseball and other recess stuff. The sandlot was separated from our backyard by a low brick wall (built by my alcoholic uncle, and looking about like you'd expect), and a buffer strip of thick woods beyond that. To the left and right were neighbors' houses, but several big trees screened the view. And finally, a roof-gable on the rear of our house extended over the back screened porch, and down at the end of the roof, my bedroom had a dormer window facing the backyard; we usually sat in the space between those two. Unless someone happened to be in just the right strategic vantage-point, we couldn't be seen. It was as private as one could reasonbly get in an urban neighborhood. We got out onto the roof through that dormer window. This seemed like a slightly daredevil act at the time. To get out, you had to carefully step onto a thin strip of roof just below the window - about 10 inches wide, from edge of the dormer to the gutter, and with a major slope. To get to our spot, you had to edge carefully along this slanting edge till you reached the corner. This took about four "normal" steps, but edging it took about eight or so. I wore flip-flop sandals alot in the summer (as did many kids, including Alex), and your feet tend to slide right out of flip-flops if you're not careful. I had a few near-misses when my foot slid out of the flip-flop and I had to grab a windowsill or something to avert a plunge. It added to the thrill. During the summers it got pretty hot up there on the roof. Our spot faced north, so it was cooler than the other slope, which got the full blast-furnace effect; but July and August down South aren't cucumber-cool regardless of where you sit outdoors. So we would always take off our shirts up there, and sit around in our shorts and flip-flops, and smoke (when we had the 'rettes), and talk. (Funny side note: Alex and I had a catch-phrase: "You got a 'rette, Chet?" I'd picked that up from Will, my next-door neighbor, the year before. We thought it was pretty comical :)) Before that summer, Alex was one friend whose frienship didn't contain much of an active sexual element before. We'd never done anything sexual with each other, except talk. Back then, sex-play with my friends wasn't a planned issue, as I've noted. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing when it happened. Like most of my life back then, in fact. Over that summer, though, Alex and I had begun talking about sex alot. That always seemed to happen with my closest friends, sooner or later :). We were about equally likely to bring up the subject, but I usually took the lead in talking about the details. I had alot of "experience" (or so I thought of it) by that time - sleepovers and show-you-show-me games; the Y-camp experience; my Big 3 Books, and sharing what I'd learned... And I had already showed my friend Ricky how to jack off, albeit hastily :). Alex's experience was more limited than mine, as I came to realize. He'd played show-you-show-me games, but that was about it. Alex was one of the few kids I knew who rarely did sleepovers, incidentally, and I suspect that's one reason we'd never done any fooling around. His mom didn't like the hassle. She didn't care for us even hanging around, much less spending the night at his house; and I guess she didn't let him sleep over with his friends because she'd be obligated to reciprocate. Alex's mom wasn't an unpleasant lady; but she was quite a bit older than most of my friends' moms, and she was high-strung. Anyway, we did get to talking about it alot, that summer. Most of our sex talk centered around girls. You know, usual kid stuff - "Boy would I like to fuck Mary Jane", "I get her first!", etc. We talked alot of bullshit to impress each other, but real experience with girls was just about zero for us both. I hadn't even kissed a girl since the shed incident the year before, and I don't know if Alex ever had. (Naturally, we claimed about 20 or 30 girls each.) I know these talks made me horny, and I know it had that effect on Alex too, but we never brought up the fact that we were getting erections during these discussions, even indirectly. I did tell Alex all about jerking off, in great detail, but I always put it in terms of, "Here's what I read in my book" - I never mentioned directly I had been doing it, much less showing others. I did drop hints, such as mentioning that "it feels good when your balls pull up close to your dick, right before you orgasm." The books hadn't mentioned that particular fact (or maybe I overlooked it :)). But I didn't tell him I'd been masturbating, and he never asked. One other relevant fact - neither of us had ever seen the other one naked. I'd never even seen his weenie, despite being involved in soccer with him, where gang-pissing was the rule on bathroom breaks (or if I did, I'd forgotten - urination isn't sexual to me). Swimsuits and underwear were as close as I got to seeing him nude. By this point I had slept over at Alex's house, and he at mine, despite his mom's quirks, so underwear was a given. In fact, we both wore just our underwear to bed; Alex was one of the few kids besides me who had given up PJs. On those evenings, and while changing at other times, I had of course looked at the outline of his genitals in his tight white briefs, but never saw anything more. Alot of my friends, including Alex, had that slight pre-teenage awkwardness about their bodies. They turned their backs when we changed, closed the bathroom door (when they remembered), and all that. Even I did it, although overall I was pretty flagrant and unembarrassed about nudity. That sounds silly, in retrospect - showing my friends how to j/o, but turning my back to change... But that's how it was. The social code. I had this vague sense at the time that "solidarity" (for lack of a better word) with them was important to friendship. It was something similar to going along with a game another kid wanted to play, even though you didn't like to play it. Going along to get along. I was forthright and a leader-type kid. But I had an awareness that you didn't want to push a kid too hard until he was ready - and I understood, half-consciously, that that rule applied very much to sex. All that notwithstanding: In hindsight, I have no idea or recollection about why I didn't try to teach Alex how to j/o, or even tell him I'd done it myself. I had been doing stuff like that with other friends who weren't as close; and even before Y-camp (and certainly after), I was aware that other boys liked that kind of stuff. It seems weird in retrospect. We sure talked about sex alot; but until that day it was all talk and no action. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because of our particular relationship. My other friends were less extroverted than me as a rule, and most of them looked to me as a leader. But Alex was my equal in gregariousness and self-confidence and forwardness. He and I were co-equals. Maybe subconsciously, I felt awkward about taking the lead in sex with with a boy whose personality was as forceful as mine. I'm speculating, so take it with however many grains of salt you wish. We'll never know for sure :). The day we did it was a really hot day in early August. We were up on the roof. It was mid-afternoon on a weekday. I didn't have soccer or swimming that day; no lawn-mowing clients lined up for Alex; nothing else scheduled; no one at home but us. (Back then, parents weren't uptight about leaving their 10 y/o kids alone. "Getting in trouble" back then was stuff like setting off firecrackers. We've gone from firecrackers to crack for 10-year-olds home alone, and that is a black tragedy of our society. It sucks.) Anyone who has spent a long summer afternoon in the South can imagine the scene - the hot, faded light, bleaching the landscape of color; the dark foliage of hardwood trees pressed around, mixed with the lighter-colored pines; the cicadas buzzing, and the sound of a distant lawnmower; the air so humid that even after you took off your sweat-soaked shirt, you felt like you were still wearing it... Some Southern writer wrote about his long summers as a kid with nothing to do: "acres of afternoon." That phrase resonates inside me like a tuning fork. Acres of afternoon, stretching before me like the endless Southern landscape, fields and forests, drowsing in the somnolent heat. A boy's summer is the opposite of a dog's year - it's at least seven times longer. There was nothing remarkable about that afternoon. It was hot. We were wearing as little as possible - shorts and flip-flops. I had been wearing a tank top before we got on the roof, as I did most of the time in the summer. Tank tops were the mark of a working-class boy back then; the middle-class or better kids wore T-shirts. Alex, solidly middle-class, was wearing a T-shirt that day; I never saw him in a tank top except to play basketball. It was irrelevant. Class was irrelevant to me, then. Besides, our shirts had come off right after we got settled on the roof. At night all cats are gray; shirtless boys are equals, too, no matter what time of day :). We had been up there about 20 minutes. We'd smoked our cigs already, but there was no reason to leave, or even move. We were talking about girls, but not explicitly, as I recall. The sun was glaring down on our backs. We were sweating. The conversation lagged. And then, out of nowhere... Alex said, "It's too damn hot. I'm taking my pants off, too". This was a first for the roof. Oddly, at the moment he said it, I wasn't particularly struck by it - I just took it at face value ("Okay, probably will help him stay cooler...") I think I still had my mind on the girls. Alex stood up and started to take off his shorts. He was wearing these faded Levi's cutoffs, which I can picture distinctly in my mind right now. They were ragged on the edges, with the haphazard white fibers where the legs had been cut. (In that era, 1960s-1970s, cutoffs were shorter; so lots of boy-thigh exposed everywhere you looked. I sort of miss that, although I like the baggy stuff boys wear nowadays, too :)). He stood up facing me, unbuttoned and unzipped his cutoffs and pulled them down. As soon as he started actually taking them off, he did get my interest :). The explicitly sexual aspect still wasn't forefront in my mind; it was more along the lines of "hmmm, wonder what Alex looks like in his underwear today?" I assumed he was wearing briefs, like always. But, major surprise - underneath, he was wearing BOXERS. Now, to explain why that was a surprise - and why it was sexual to me: All the boys I knew who were our age (and younger) wore nothing but plain white briefs, like Hanes or Fruit of the Loom. I knew older guys, adults and some teenagers, wore boxers. I associated them as a "maturity" thing. I don't remember boxers being particularly sexual before this incident. But when I saw Alex in his boxers, my thought was something like "Geez, he's a BIG kid!" Sounds corny, I know... but kids think corny stuff... you know? I felt like he had instantly moved a few notches up the coolness scale. And that made him sexy. I said something like, "Holy shit, Alex, you're wearing boxers!" He said "Yeah, I switched... Aren't they cool?" I said, "Man, that's awesome" or some such admiring response. (It wasn't "awesome" - that word didn't come into vogue till later, but I've now forgotten the synonymous term we used). I was absolutely serious. It was awesome, then and now :). He sat down again. I distinctly remember silently admiring Alex, sitting on my roof in his red boxers with paisleys all over them. (As with his cutoffs, I could paint them perfectly from memory, if I tried.) Unexpectedly, out of nowhere on this hot dull afternoon, I was seeing my friend in a different light. Alex had charisma, and sex-magnetism. I didn't think in those terms at the time, of course; but that's what he had acquired, rather suddenly. And simply by taking his pants off. If you've read my Y-camp sequence, you may recall the way I characterized some of my sexual-awakening moments there, as like sudden heat-lightning across the sky, instant electricity. Now, with Alex, the air was charged. We were smoking our cigs, and after about 30 seconds of that he said, "Hey Danny, aren't you gonna take yours off too?" I didn't want to take my shorts off. I was reluctant, for two reasons. One, I was wearing my regular old white Hanes briefs under my shorts, and I felt sort of inferior all of a sudden. And, two, as soon as I saw Alex's boxers and thought "wow, he's a big kid" and the electricity shot through me, I had gotten an instant hard-on. I didn't particularly want Alex to see it. I wasn't embarrassed, as such; erections never embarrassed me then. But I still had this odd notion that Alex was different from my other friends. Even though I was now attracted to him in his boxers. I said something like "No, I'm not that hot". Of course the sweat was pouring off me in rivulets :). And Alex (not a dumb kid at all) said, "You're lying! Come on, take your shorts off! ... What are you afraid of?" Alex knew which buttons to push with me (and vice-versa). And this was a big one. You can't say No to that kind of challenge from your friend. We both were the original "No Fear" kids, long before the T-shirts came along :). Damned if I'd let him suggest I was afraid to take my shorts off. But along with indignantly rising to his challenge, I had another feeling. As soon as he dared me, I got real excited, consciously. The thought went through my mind: "We're stripping up here." This was another new and different thing between us. I hadn't noticed this feeling when Alex and I were in just our underwear previously, even when I looked at his cock and balls outlined in his briefs. Those times, it was just my friend in his underwear. This time, it was stripping. I didn't say anything - I stood up, with my back partly to Alex, and pulled my shorts off, being careful not to pull my briefs down too. I was wearing some kind of loose shorts - don't remember what they were like, exactly, except they had an elastic waist, no zipper and stuff to deal with. Then I sat back down, with my back kind of turned one-quarter to him and my knees pulled up, just enough to conceal my lap. It was of course perfectly obvious to anyone that I was concealing something, and perfectly obvious what was being concealed, to anyone who knows about boys :). As soon I sat down, Alex immediately said, "Come on, Danny... I know you've got a boner." Split-second pause. "It's cool." And he looked right into my eyes and grinned at me. Oh, boy. This is moving fast, now... We were getting naked. We were talking about our erections. The electricity had gotten me hard. Now I could dimly sense where this was taking us. It was the roller-coaster ride of a lifetime. We were up near the top of that first gigantic plunge, and the landscape all around was opening before us. I couldn't see all the twists and turns the track took beyond the crest. But it was going to be the ride of a lifetime. It was an odd feeling for me, being in this role. I'd taken the lead before, always. Even with Joe at Y-camp, who was the closest thing to a co-equal sex- partner I'd had, I was the more-aggressive one. But Alex was pushing me. I was being seduced, or something similar. Just like in my books. It different, and it WAS cool. I'm not easily caught off-guard, and nothing in this sequence of events "surprised" me as such. The overwhelming emotion I recall was excitement. I clearly remember that at that moment I wanted to see his boner - I mean, really wanted it - and I wanted him to see mine. I was getting hot for him. It was sex with a friend - and it was Alex, himself. My best friend. And a kid whose energy (electricity, magnetism, charisma, sexuality) matched mine. High play, indeed. I blurted the first thing that came to mind: "Well, do you have one?" He said "Hell, what do YOU think? We've been talking about fucking, all fucking afternoon." The second part wasn't literally true - we had just gotten up there not long before, and we hadn't been talking about anything explicit. It didn't matter. What matter was the translation: "I'm hot, too." I twisted slightly to face Alex fully. And I dropped my knees slightly. I knew how to do this part; I'd done it before. Alex now had a clear view of my boner inside my briefs. And of course, boners in briefs - even small boners - are obvious. In this position, I knew I could look right at Alex's crotch. He had his legs drawn up like I did, but his thighs were slightly apart like mine. He clearly wasn't making any effort to conceal his lap, either. I looked, very deliberately. And there was this tent in his boxers. The cloth was all bunched up because of his position, but there was one particular lump that was unmistakable. Of course it was a pre-puberty-cock-sized tent. That was just fine with me. I looked up, after a few seconds. Alex was still smiling, and he was staring right between my legs. When I looked up, he looked up, and we looked at each other. So far, I had mostly been following Alex's lead. He took his pants off first; he brought up our dual erections first. But we had to out-do and out- dare each other. I thought: "Hey! I'M the sex expert around here! Shouldn't I be doing some leading, instead of following?" (Take out the word "sex", and you have the philosophy of my whole life, for better or worse :)).We were equals, and I wanted to take the lead, for now. It was so cool. Someone whose every move I could surpass... and then he'd surpass mine. We were almost at the crest, now. Oh, it was getting so fast, and so hot. I deliberately dropped my knees completely to either side, so my pelvis was clearly exposed. And I pushed my pelvis up and closer to him, a maneuver that pushed my erect dick and my balls against the fabric of my briefs, making them more visible and prominent. I was displaying my randiness to him, and aiming my erection at his. I was showing off. It was grab-the-weenie at Y-camp, it was me arching my back and displaying, wanting to be grabbed. Alex didn't say or do anything in immediate response, but my gesture was so obvious there was no way he could miss the signal. So we stared at each other's erections, and neither of us said anything for... it really was probably about 15 seconds, but it seemed like an hour. And during that stretch I came to a conscious realization. This was different. This was a BIG turning point. No twig was going to snap in the woods, like with Joe; nobody would get cold feet, like the first time with Ricky. This was more serious than talk, or even showing my friends how to jack off. I was hot for this boy. I knew it was Alex himself that had gotten me aroused, not just some talk with him about fucking girls - and I knew that he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew... There was no turning back. There was only one way: forward. We were going to ride the lightning. And we knew that. The silence got to me. Finally I couldn't stand it. So I blurted out, "Alex, can I see your dick?... You can see mine too." Show-me-show-you. Adults are so careful and circumspect. Boys are blunt. It was a raw, honest statement of lust. Like with Joe, that time, "showing" wasn't the idea. It was just the excuse. Alex didn't say a word - he just stood up halfway, in a crouch, and pulled his boxers down to his ankles, and sat down again. As soon as he stood up and started pulling his underwear down, I got up partway, pulled down my briefs and sat down again. I still remember how those grainy roof shingles felt against my bare butt, and having the fleeting thought "glad I sat down in my shadow, or else I'd get my butt burned..." As soon as it came into view, immediately I noticed that Alex's dick and balls were bigger than mine. Not much bigger - not like Ricky's and certainly not like Joe's - but it was noticeable. I am lousy at judging size, but I will guess his cock was slightly over three inches. Mine was around a half-inch shorter. His thickness was proportionally larger, too. He was big enough that when he masturbated, the tip showed above his hand on the downstroke. When I sucked it a short while later, I noticed it fit comfortably in my mouth, both length and thickness. So, measure a smallish 10 y/o's mouth and you'll get a clue.... :) (Incidentally, not long before Alex moved away the next year, we did measure our stiffies, using an easily-available measuring device. I can tell you that his was just slightly shorter than a Benson & Hedges 100-millimeter cigarette - which put him at about 3.75 inches. Of course, he'd grown by that point. That's another story, though...) His dick stood angled away from his body a little bit, unlike mine which touched my belly where my pubic hair would be later. Other than that, they were identical. We're both circumcised; no difference there. Neither of us showed any sign of puberty, yet. In my experience, testicle enlargement and some darkening (and maybe enlargement) of the penis, are the earliest signs of puberty in boys. (Six months later, I began to see those signs in myself; and a bit later still, I got to witness the very beginnings of puberty in Alex - only the beginning, sadly, before he moved...) We sat now fully facing each other. Our legs were splayed apart - no pretense of hiding now. Our little hard-ons were sticking out from our hairless pelvises. The moment seemed to call for a comment :). I said, "Yours looks like mine, only a little bigger." He didn't say anything. I think in hindsight he was nervous as hell at that point, understandably - as fearless as we fancied ourselves, we were going into some unknown territory and we knew it. The quiet was still getting to me. Again without stopping to think, I said "Hey... I'll show you how to jerk off." This had not been my usual come-on line. To the other boys, I'd said something like "Have you ever noticed how your weenie gets hard sometimes?..." But this didn't seem like a moment for indirectness. I didn't even wait for him to answer that time. I grabbed my boner between my thumb and fingers and started stroking. I kept my attention concentrated on my own dick. I was still slightly nervous about watching him - Alex, the electric one, the fire-bearer. My last lingering hold on the past, I guess. I saw his arm starting to move out of the corner of my eye. I looked, and he was jerking his cock, and the whole time he was watching me jerk mine. Seeing that sent a jolt of electricity through me like you would not believe. The rush was physically disorienting. I knew he was getting off on this, too, and that was a thrill beyond comparison. Alex was right-handed and I am left, so watching him jerk off was like looking at a mirror image. I had done before - looking at myself in the mirror. That was a thrill. This was... Now we were over the crest. The roller-coaster is starting to drop. Holy shit, it's going to be a ride. All conscious thought left my mind, except one. There's only one conscious thought I recall from that moment; but it's enough. The thought was: "We're gonna do it. I am going to suck his dick. And he's going to suck mine." In one of my Big 3 books, "Variations on Sexual Behavior", there's a description of how a boy who lived in an orphanage got into mutual j/o sessions every night with the other boys. That was exciting enough. But on one great night he got this kid to trade blowjobs with him. This idea - mutual jerking off, leading into mutual BJs - was blinking on and off in my mind like a red beacon light, calling me. I had a goal. It was the second time in my life I'd had that thought. Not "I want to..." It was "I'm going to..." Like with Joe in the woods. And we were already way past where Joe and I had quit, now. We jacked off facing each other for a short while, maybe two minutes. I guess I would've made the next move sooner, but the mirror-thing was so awesome... I took the lead, again. I scooted a little closer to him. (Again, I'm recalling those rough asphalt shingles scraping on my butt.) Now our lower legs were parallel, with my feet almost in his lap and his almost in mine. Our legs were touching along their length. That contact felt erotic and added to the moment's sensuality. I let go my own hard-on and reached for his. Before I even touched him, he was reaching for mine. We were in sync. Mirror-minds. Linked. Bonded. I vividly recall the sensation of touching and closing my fingers around his erection for the first time. It was hot, and as rigid as an iron pole. The skin didn't feel as loose as mine, and didn't slide much over the interior, as my own did, and most of the others I remembered touching. (My guess today is that his circumcision removed more of the foreskin.) It felt different stroking another boy's cock, as always, compared to mine. The curve went the other way, and my thumb was on the bottom instead of my fingers. And Alex's was different - the skin, and it was longer and thicker than mine. Mutual, simultaneous masturbation was always strange - fantastic, but strange. There was an odd disconnection, something like local anesthetic, that you never get when masturbating solo - the feeling that you're doing one thing with your hand, but something different is happening to your dick. It has its own benefits, you might say :). This mutual j/o phase was short. I had that blinking red charm in my mind - "this is supposed to lead to sucking; this will lead to sucking; I want to suck his dick; I want him to suck mine." Again, I led the way. I remember thinking, "If I ask, he might say no." I didn't want that. With no particular transition, I leaned way forward, opened up, closed my mouth over Alex's penis, and engulfed it all the way to the root in my mouth, and sucked it, and lost my virginity, and made two boys' hearts beat as one. I kept stroking him while making the move, and quit only when I got my mouth all the way onto him. We were still sitting with our legs intertwined. (Ahh, for the flexibility of youth again... :)) Alex didn't try to stop me, of course. Instead, he did something that thrilled me. He leaned back on his hands, to make his pelvis more accessible to me. Just to make sure, he wiggled his butt a little, pushing into my mouth, but gently. He was forced to let go of my dick to do that, but it was okay. He wanted this as much as I did, and that was plenty. I can write descriptive phrases here, but ultimately, it was indescribable, then and now. I'll try, anyway :). Alex's dick was a perfect fit in my mouth. I had my lips up against his groin ntertwined. (Ahh, for the flexibility of youth again... :)) Alex didn't try to stop me, of course. Instead, he did something that thrilled me. He leaned back on his hands, to make his pelvis more accessible to me. Just to make sure, he wiggled his butt a little, pushing into my mouth, but gently. He was forced to let go of my dick to do that, but it was okay. He wanted this as much as I did, and that was plenty. I can write descriptive phrases here, but ultimately, it was indescribable, then and now. I'll try, anyway :). Alex's dick was a perfect fit in my mouth. I had my lips up against his groin (and that felt awesome), and the tip was almost, but not quite, all the way back against my throat. My mouth was full, but not to the point of gagging. His weenie was hot, of course, and slick - I wasn't expecting it to be so slick. It was pulsing. It filled me up. I felt like I'd found the core of the universe, and I was full. I had no technique, of course - you can't learn blowjobs from books, no matter how many you read :). I think I made up for that in enthusiasm. I did know from reading that you should keep your lips over your teeth; and that you should suck, but not hard; and bob your head up and down, and move your tongue around on the sensitive part right below the glans. I did all that. I felt his balls a few times, all drawn up against his body (just like mine, how cool! :)) Once, I stopped to lick his scrotum. But mostly I just sucked his dick. I've never been one to close my eyes during sex, but they didn't do much good in that position - everything was out of focus, with his body so close. My other senses were wide open. I still felt the heat of the day, still heard those cicadas. I remember those things more clearly than the sex itself. I have no idea how long I sucked his cock before he came, but it wasn't long enough for my tongue or mouth or neck to get tired. I was too excited myself to notice any of the signals of impending orgasm. But soon enough, Alex jerked his hips and shoved his dick deeper into my mouth and started shaking and vibrating. I knew what that meant. It was his orgasm. Later, I found out it was his first, ever. He knew what that feeling meant, but I was the first to make it happen. Of all the memories in my whole boyhood, this is one of the sweetest. As soon as I realized what was happening, I promptly froze, as I had with Ricky, remembering the advice from my books: "Most guys don't want the stimulation to continue during orgasm." As I found out later, that didn't matter to Alex either way. He didn't need it, but it didn't bother him. Subsequently I did it both ways to him. In general, my preference was to keep sucking and keep rubbing my tongue across the boy's shaft all through his orgasm. Actually I'm glad I froze with Alex that first time, though. That way, his orgasm filled up my senses completely, and I could be there with him the whole way. Alex was the silent type. No moaning or anything during the lead-up phase, and the only noises he made during orgasm were a few guttural sounds. That and his cock pulsing more powerfully, plus the other signals above, were the signals of his orgasm. It was completely dry, of course. Alex never ejaculated anything the whole time I knew him, not even at the end, when the faint but definite signs of his approaching puberty appeared. As soon as he subsided a little, I took my mouth off, fast. I didn't know if he was sensitive after coming, but I knew I was. He stayed hard. I looked down at him to see what I (we) had done. I vividly remember what his dick looked like - it was all red and swollen, with the head especially red, and it was all shiny from my spit, down the entire length. I looked at it and thought, "I did that." It was indescribably sweet. I can't remember now what led up to his sucking my cock - whether I pulled him down, or he did it without any help. The intense memory-flash I get is the moment he closed his mouth on my cock, all the way inside, his lips against my groin, and began sucking, and moving his tongue. It was electrifying, of course. I have described the feeling of masturbating at that age, as "a little tickle that turen into a great big tickle" (orgasm). This wasn't a tickle. It was voltage. And at the same time... it was oddly peaceful. Like I was completely surrounded by a warm, soft, cocoon, and all was well and safe. I imagine that is what it feels like back in the uterus. The two feelings sound inharmonious, like taking a tiger by the tail and realizing at the same time that he's a pussycat, even as he's shaking you in his teeth. They are not inharmonious. It can't be described in words. Alex sucked dick like me, that first time - amateur technique, great enthusiasm :). He did pretty much the same things to me that I did to him, as I recall - as with jacking off, I don't know if he was a natural or was copying me. He sucked hard. Felt great. Maybe it was the practice from smoking :). I have always been a long, slow finisher when it comes to orgasm. This was, not surprisingly, an exception to that rule. I may have taken a little longer than Alex did to come, but not much. My orgasm came riding in on a bolt of pure electricity. It was impossibly fantastic. I can't describe it; I've run through my small list of superlatives already in this narrative. You'll just have to imagine :). I do make noise, and thrash around alot, while coming. I also like to have the friction (sucking or stroking or whatever) continue all through my climax - typically my orgasm is weaker without that. But not this time. Alex stopped when my orgasm began, but it continued quite well all by itself without his active help. It seemed to go on forever. Aren't first times like that? :) No semen out of me either, of course; the first droplets were still 9 months away in the future. When I was finished, he took his mouth off, and then we both spent a few seconds staring at my cock. It was a carbon copy of the way his looked: shiny, red, swollen, slick... finished... fulfilled... I never thought to ask him what he was thinking or feeling, then. Nor in fact, did I ever tell him what I was thinking or feeling. We weren't analytical. We were 10-year-old boys. We did it, loved it, and moved on, till the next time. The aftermath was kind of a crash. I didn't look him in the face. We rolled over with our backs to each other and just lay there for a little while, wiped out. And I know we both felt awkward. Everything had happened fast; now it was finished; the coaster had arrived back at the station, and how do we get off the train? Now, we had this new relationship, and didn't know what to do about that. (Hell, we were 10 years old - what did we know?) I guess it would have been appropriate to smoke a cigarette, but that didn't occur to us :). Anyway, after a little while Alex said, simply, "I gotta go, see ya later." He pulled his clothes on fast, and climbed in the window like his butt was on fire. I was still drained. I didn't want to move. But after a few minutes I followed Alex's lead, more slowly. By the time I got into my bedroom, he was down the stairs and on his way out the door. He called back "See ya later, okay?" And he was gone. This sounds so cold now, the way I'm describing it, but it wasn't at the time. It was just boys being blunt, the way they are, and we were. When you're finished talking to your friend on the phone, you say, "Bye!" and bang the receiver down. When you're done playing, you leave. When you finish sucking each other off, well... :) If it had been romance, I guess it might've hurt or felt funny. But it was my best friend. The rest of the afternoon and evening is a blur. The saying, "It blew his mind" sums it up :). I couldn't get the event out of my mind, not even for a second. I had a boner, hard as iron, the entire time. I sat in my room for an hour or two and masturbated almost constantly, replaying this scene in my mind over and over. I would have kept going but I finally got too sore, both on the surface of my dick and internally from the dry orgasms. (Being multi-orgasmic was so much fun... one of the things I miss most about pre-pubescence :)). Dinnertime was a mirage. I remember my mom giving me a lecture about stealing her cigarettes again. I got one of those about once a week, not that it stopped me or anything... I also remember watching TV, but I have no clue what I watched. At one point, my mom asked me about something Alex and I had done the previous weekend, and I couldn't answer her - as soon as she mentioned Alex, I just got the giggles. She probably thinks to this day we were smoking something stronger than cigarettes up there :). (We never did, in fact; Alex and I were more the beer and cigarette types. In any case, weed wasn't especially easy for 10-year-olds to get, back then. I didn't smoke it till I was 14, and never did that much. I have a deep, abiding hatred for drugs today. That's another story.) I didn't recover until the next day, after sleeping it off. By then the whole thing had taken on a faded, slightly unreal aura, like a hallucination, although I knew it had really happened. Sensory-overload aftereffect, I guess. I didn't see Alex again for a few days. He usually came to my house, since my mom was gone all day. We didn't hang out every single day, so not seeing him wasn't exactly unusual. Nevertheless, I got worried that he had decided I was a creep, or a worthless queer or something.I partly convinced myself that he would at best avoid me and at worst tell everybody we knew what we'd done. (A silly fear, in hindsight; it's hard to claim that a kid who's 2-3 inches shorter and 25-30 pounds lighter made you suck his dick :)). After a few days, I couldn't stand it, and I went over to his house. I rode up on my bike. He was out in the yard. He saw me, met my eyes... and then we both looked away. That was a first, too. The awkwardness hung there, a veil between us: "Okay, what's up here? Who regrets this? Who wants to do it again? What are we going to call 'normal' from now on? Are we friends? Do I have a boyfriend? An enemy? Shall I turn and leave? Do we kiss?... Where's the path?" Those weren't my conscious thoughts at the time, certainly. I'm analyzing. My conscious thought at the time was far simpler: "I want my friend back." We had this spell of awkwardness for maybe 3-4 seconds. Then, the greatest thing - he looked up at me, and just grinned! I knew that it was all okay then - that WE were okay. I got off my bike, letting it fall to the sidewalk (as usual), ran over to him and tackled him to the ground and we wrestled. Nothing sexual, not in the least. Just 10-year-old boy stuff. We were friends. Our way of saying, "Hey, whatever else, we're still friends!!" We really were kids, too. We were doing "adult" stuff, but it didn't mean we weren't kids anymore. We still wanted to wrestle and be 10 years old. It was our way of grounding us back in reality, back to our friendship. ----- I will wrap up this particular story by saying that, after a few days of lingering awkwardness, Alex and I did have sex again, and again... and we kept it up for nearly a year. It was a joyful time, and a schizophrenic time. We had that whole dual relationship going - just kids one day, sex the next, back to being kids, and so on. Sex wasn't ever the only thing for us, but obviously it colors everything. Did Alex take his shorts off on purpose in order to "seduce" me or get me excited? We never talked about it, so I can't say for certain. Retrospectively, I don't know that it was his conscious intent. He really was just plain uncomfortable in that August heat. But I am certain that he dared me to take mine off for reasons other than comfort. My guess is that after his shorts came off, he realized that his boner was very visible in just his underwear, and he didn't want to be the only one on display. And, like me, he seized the moment. It was time. He certainly had sex in mind when he said "I know you've got a boner. It's cool." If I hadn't taken over pushing us on to the next step, he would have. I know he would have for sure, once we were naked. He was that kind of boy. MY kind of boy.
It took alot of guts for Alex to do that. I had all my lead-in experience. I
knew what happened when you asked a boy if he wanted to play with each other's
weenies. For Alex it was terra incognita - "Here Be Dragons", like on the
explorers' old flat-earth sailing charts. Alex went there with no hesitation.
He was an awesome sex-partner, and more importantly, an awesome friend.
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