Archive-name: Samesex/19-class.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Peter Was 19 With A Lot of Class



     I met a guy through a personal column, and he came over to my

place one night to get acquainted.  We were sitting there that

night, having a drink, with the lights low, and we walked to my

bedroom window.  There was a guy across the lane, jacking off. 

Boy, was Peter surprised.



     Up to that time, besides my preoccupation with solo-sex, my

sexual experiences had all been with guys who went on to date girls

and marry.  Peter identified himself right from the beginning as

being gay, and made it clear that he had never been interested in

girls and never would be.  He had advertised for a "male friend",

and I had answered.



     Peter was exactly my height, 6'2", of European extraction, and

spoke with a slight accent.  He had a lot of class, and I found him

very attractive, although just a bit feminine in his speech and

mannerisms.  He was nineteen, with dark hair and striking features,

and I must say I was pleased with his broad shoulders, extremely

small waist and moderately large basket.  He was wearing grey

flannel slacks and a T-shirt, and I was wearing a T-shirt and white

jeans.



     To our mutual surprise, he had gone to the same high school

as I did, although neither of us recalled seeing the other there. 

He was two years behind me and had gone to that school when his

family moved to this country, while I had moved to that town when

I entered the eleventh grade, so neither of us had spent our whole

school life there.



     We were getting to know each other as we moved to my bedroom

window, but we hadn't gotten onto the subject of sex.  He was

startled when he saw the guy across the lane, and he looked at me. 

I told him about the guy seeing me jacking off, and how I'd see

this guy taking care of himself.  We put our drinks down and I

handed him the binoculars, so he could watch the performance.  I

was turned on from seeing the guy across the lane, and also being

so close to Peter.



     When the guy stiffened, I knew he was shooting.  He turned his

light out, and then Peter turned away from the scene across the

lane.  Putting the binoculars down, Peter turned to me and put his

arms around my shoulders as he kissed me and moved his groin

against mine.  It was one firm basket rubbing against another firm

basket.  He reached down and cupped and squeezed my basket through

my jeans.  Then he reached down into my jeans and did the same

thing through my Jockey shorts.



     Withdrawing his hand, he unsnapped my jeans, pulled down my

zipper, and took down my jeans.  I was very excited and tried to

reciprocate, but he pulled away saying, "Not yet." He slid his hand

into my Jockey shorts, rearranging everything so that my shaft was

now vertical, the head rubbing between the shorts and his wrist. 

He went down and gently rolled my balls in his fingers.  We managed

to move together, sideways to my bed, without his ever losing his

gentle grip on my now throbbing hard-on.



     "Now, you can undress me," he whispered, as we snuggled and

rubbed our stubble together.  I peeled the T-shirt out of his pants

and up his chest.  As he stretched his arms over his head I could

see his beautifully tapered chest with the tiny erect nipples.  I

pulled his T-shirt off and we hugged some more while I gently

nipped his nipples and moved my tongue in the finely developed

channels of his gut muscles.  I flipped open his belt, and stripped

his pants and shorts down, taking care to pull them off his feet. 

I sat up and carefully folded his pants, putting them on the

dresser, turning back to see his long, thick shaft lying on his

belly.  But when I went to caress it, he pushed me on my back,

saying again, "Not now."



     He stripped my shorts off me and quickly moved his head down

and onto my shaft.  The initial roughness startled me, but he

gently withdrew and then slowly and with tantalizing changes in

focus, made love to my hard shaft, tonguing the underside of it

especially well.



     "Have you got anything?" he asked.  In my innocence, I

replied, "Like what?" He laughed and explained, "A lubricant.  I'm

very big and don't want to hurt you." I got my tube of K-Y and

squeezed some of the slick, cool jelly on my fingers.



     I was lying on my back as Peter climbed on top of me, his

hands over my shoulders and his knees between my open thighs,

propped up so that his very hard shaft was right above my navel. 

In the dim light, I felt the huge head of his cock.  It was

considerably greater in circumference than his shaft, and was half

out of its foreskin.  As I smoothed the K-Y on, I slipped his

foreskin back down and was thrilled to feel the head swell even

more from the constriction of the foreskin behind it.



     I reached down and put the K-Y in my butt as Peter moved his

knees down, asking me to put my knees up so my legs were over my

head.  He lay down then, his chest on the underside of my legs. 

"Take a deep breath and push down as if you're straining on the

toilet," he whispered, as I felt his head press against my butt. 

The moment I followed his instructions, he pushed his groin forward

and the thick head slipped right in with no pain.  He told me to

let my breath go and to stop pushing down, and then he sank the

whole shaft in with ease.



     "Now, my love, we're going to fly to the moon," he whispered

as he started slow withdrawals and re-entries.  Every few strokes

he withdrew completely and then re-entered.  It was an incredible

feeling, with no pain whatsoever.  My shaft was pressed down

against my belly as he thrust again and again.  As his pace picked

up, he raised his upper body on his arms and, while now violently

thrusting his hips, whispered, "Lower your legs." I did so,

gingerly, until I had my legs around the back of his and he lowered

his chest on mine enough so that our nipples were constantly

brushing against each other as we both thrashed around on the bed.



     I was overwhelmed by the marvel of his body movements.  His

upper body was supported on his elbows.  I swept my hands around

his back to his very substantial shoulders, and then down to his

finely defined chest muscles, which flexed as he thrust.  I tweaked

his nipples as I felt them exciting my own nipples.  As my hands

slid lower on his tapered torso, I felt the ripple of his gut

muscles, into which my stiff shaft was now stabbing.  When my hands

were on his buttocks, realized the sheer beauty of the perfectly

synchronized, machine-like movement of his thrusts.  Each was like

a wave that started at his back and rolled down through the small

of his back, terminating in the drive to his lower pelvis that

stabbed into my butt and drove me wild.



     What kept going through my mind was that Peter was so

effeminate, and yet he declined any passive role in fondling or

stimulation.  Up to that time, my sexual experiences with guys

could all be classified as "horsing around," but with Peter there

was so much tenderness, kissing, hugging, and mutual movement of

our bodies, that I was really feeling sexual love for him.  Before

that, it had only been for thrills.



     He kept up the continuous, steady thrusting into me at the

rate of one per second.  The exquisite sensation on the underside

of my shaft, rubbing up and down against the valley of his gut

muscles, raised me to a pitch that made it hard for me to breathe. 

I groaned, threw my arms around his moving back, and pulled us

together as I felt the throbs of my orgasm, followed by my jism

flowing out of my shaft, flooding our pressed bellies.



     Peter went on, not varying his thrust, still supporting his

upper torso with his elbows as I hugged myself to his muscular

torso.  Our tongues were probing each other's mouths.  My shaft was

so sensitive now that I had cum and his gut was rubbing the

sensitive skin below my head that I was shuddering all over.



     Suddenly he interrupted his thrusting, withdrew the giant head

of his shaft, and then slowly, gently re-entered to the hilt and

stayed there.  I could feel the violent throbs and jerks as he came

with a sigh in my ear.  Then, keeping his shaft all the way in me,

he began a circular motion that was rubbing my prostate.  His hairy

bush was a delectable cushion for my balls.  He lowered his full

weight onto my body, and then moved every muscle in his body

against mine.  I could feel his heart pounding in his heaving

chest.  Our mouths were locked together in the most passionate kiss

I'd ever had yet.



--