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I’ve been ually active now for over fifty years. Nearly all of that activity has been with girls and women. But I believe that many of us sit on a ual spectrum. We’re not exclusively straight or exclusively gay.
During my late adolescence, while my main fantasies had been about with girls, I was always interested in how boys my own age were developing ually. I had arrived at puberty fairly late and so part of this interest was just curiosity about how far others had travelled in that regard. I never realistically expected or wanted to have a ual experience with another male.
But there was Peter, a friend from school my own age, whom I’d secretly long found attractive. This was something I didn’t really understand. I knew I wasn’t gay (we probably called it “queer” back then). I had a steady girlfriend. But there was something about him. I had no plans to do anything about it. I’d seen him in his underpants once and (I’ve never told anyone this) masturbated often over that mental image.
He was demonstrably heteroual and had no shortage of willing female partners. I was jealous of his prowess and selfconfidence.
I, on the other hand, did not have a lot of ual experience. I had only lost my virginity, after much pleading and persuasion, a week before my nineteenth birthday. The only I had had was with that same girl.
When I was twentythree, I got a new job which would entail me leaving London to move to the town I now live in. Just before I was due to leave, a group of us went to the pub and then three of us went back to Peter’s flat. At that time, most of us still lived with our parents, so it was unusual that he had his own place. We sat around chatting. We may have had more beer; I’m not sure.
Our other friend went home so it was just Peter and me left. I don’t know how the subject came up. I honestly can’t remember. But suddenly he was asking what I would do if he put his hand on my leg. I was surprised by his question but almost instantly turned on. I thought quickly about where this could lead. I thought perhaps it might end in a sort of dare game where, eventually, one of us called a halt before anything serious happened. I decided to just go with it and see how things played out.
We were sitting alongside each other on a sofa. I remember saying that if he touched my leg, I would not stop him.
Now, we’d been drinking but we weren’t drunk. We knew what we were doing and I suppose we were both curious. We’d perhaps had enough to drink to lower our inhibitions. I felt his hand on my thigh. I think he expected me to push it away, despite what I’d said. But I didn’t. We’d stopped talking now. We were both nervous about how things were developing.
Slowly, his hand moved towards my crotch. I should stop him now, I thought. But I could feel my penis stiffening. His hand worked further up my thigh until it was just below my crotch. I could feel his hand against my balls through my trousers. I thought that I really should push him away now but I didn’t and his hand moved over the bulge I was now making in my trousers.
Emboldened, he undid my zip and put his hand inside my trousers. I could feel his fingers gently grasping my penis through my underpants. This was it. Now would be the time to stop him and pass it off as a game that was getting out of hand.
Instead, I reached over and put my hand on his crotch. Perhaps he would be the one to call a halt? After all, we were two heteroual young men. We wouldn’t want our friends to know about this. He didn’t stop me. I could feel that he was hard under his jeans.
He undid the waistband of my trousers and lowered the front of my underpants to release my very hard penis. I did the same to him. I remember, for some reason, that he was wearing dark green briefs. It’s odd what sticks in your mind. We sat holding each other’s cocks for a while, scared of what we were doing.
We started to masturbate each other. I realised that his penis was much smaller than mine. I’m not boasting; I’m not that large. I even tactlessly asked him if he was erect and he assured me he was. I was lucky he didn’t get offended and end the session right there and then.
I was surprised we had gone so far. But, astonishingly, I wanted things to go further. I wanted to see Peter naked. I wanted Peter to see me naked. I wanted us to press our naked bodies together.
I suggested we’d be more comfortable in bed. He was hesitant. I had to reassure him that I didn’t want to kiss him, or have full or anything like that, but that I did want us to be naked together. We moved to the bedroom and stripped off the rest of our clothes. He had a really nice, slim body with a small, erect cock, surrounded by very dark pubic hair.
We climbed onto the bed and suddenly things got the better of us. We held each other close and, without thinking, we kissed passionately. This was the only time I’ve kissed another man. I’ve had no desire to do it since. We held our cocks together, his reaching about two thirds along the length of mine. Neither of us were circumcised.
We masturbated each other but, as though directed by some hidden signal, we moved to sucking each other’s cocks. I could get all of his easily in my mouth. It felt amazing. He could not get all of mine in his, but it still felt good. Neither of us had done this before, and we weren’t skilled enough to make each other come.
We kept trying, sucking and jerking. He was quite rough when he tried to masturbate me. He was much rougher than I was with myself and I had to ask him to ease off a bit. Eventually, when we were both dying to come but no nearer to doing so, we agreed to masturbate ourselves.
We lay beside each other on our backs, jerking our cocks in the way that we knew. I thought about the situation I was in. Here I was, naked and masturbating, on the bed with a friend I’d known since we were both eleven years old. I’d had his cock in my mouth and he’d had mine in his. How had we gotten here? These thoughts and the familiar work of my hand on my cock were bringing me close to the inevitable orgasm.
I asked him to tell me when he was getting close, which he did. I took his cock back in my mouth just in time for him to spurt into it. I swallowed his load, which he pumped out in three quick spasms. It was different to taste his semen. I had tasted my own before, just to see what it was like. His tasted similar but much more thrilling. I was doing something I had never thought I would do. But it felt natural to take it into my mouth and swallow it down.
By now, I was reaching my own climax. I told him when I was coming. He reached over and pumped my cock up and down until I shot all over my stomach. But he did not take me back into his mouth. I’m still disappointed about that!
When we’d finished, we cleaned ourselves up. We talked about what we had done and why it had happened. Peter thought he had done it because I was moving away and he would not have to face me again. We agreed that neither of us would tell anyone else what we had done. I stuck to this promise for years but did eventually tell my wife many years later. I don’t think she was surprised so I must give off some sort of bi vibe.
After we had talked and dressed, I went home. It was, by now, the early hours of the morning. I moved away a few days later.
I’ve hardly seen Peter in the fortyodd years since and he’s never acknowledged what happened. Shortly after our encounter, he came out as gay and has had exclusively gay relationships ever since.
I never repeated the experience and had exclusively straight relationships for the next forty years. I have often thought about that night and have replayed it in my head while masturbating. It always works. And, now I’ve written it all down, it is working again.
