I Blew Him
Of course I blew him.
It REALLY didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time.
I liked him, he liked me, we’d been friends for a number of years. Back in the day, everybody partied on the weekends, we were all in our 20s, that’s what you did, it was in the manual.
Of course, from a modern viewpoint, from my mature future vantage point, it seems pretty stupid that we looked forward all week to the weekend so we could take our brains literally off the hook. Doing stupid things while partying was par for the course. Of course, even then there were lines you didn’t cross, we didn’t want v******e, we were peaceniks.
He wasn’t single.
Now, I knew his girlfriend, we were also friends. Maybe somewhere in my fuzzy Bi brain I thought all three of us would be able to have fun together… I don’t know.
Of course, my future sober self is screaming ‘What the hell are you THINKING,’ but really.
It just didn’t seem like a big deal.
Maybe I should also point out I looked a bit like his girl friend at the time. We were both very slim, with long wavy hair.
There was a thing we did called country drinking. It was exactly what it sounded like, we drove off into the countryside, found a nice spot to have a midnight drinking picnic, and the person with the nicest car stereo would play tunes while we built a small fire. Usually we didn’t bother with the fire, but we weren’t completely insane- we did take precautions. I am ashamed to say we continued to party as adult campers for years, and that is still very much a past time today, as I read in the newspapers.
Anyway, Trey and I were walking around, drinking and laughing. We’d done the obligatory sit on the log and sing campfire songs, done the sitting around telling stupid stories.
I have no idea where his girlfriend even was that weekend, I’m sure he told me, but I should also point out they were a bit of a volatile couple- a lot of us were- and they were on and off a lot.
This particular weekend we had driven East until we hit the river, then found a dirt road and a beautiful spot next to the river under the full moon. It was in the middle of nowhere, although I’m sure some farmer likely owned the land.
We’d been talking and for some reason had wandered a fair distance from the rest of the revellers, and I stopped for some reason with my back against a tree.
For some reason, this became a kind of romantic moment, and he leaned into me against the tree and kissed me.
This was all very lovely, and we kissed quietly for a bit.
I really didn’t put any thought into it, I just did it.
It started with me rubbing him through his trousers, and he was rock hard and straining.
I turned us around, and now it was him with his back against the tree, as I squatted and undid his belt and jeans. We all wore fairly tight jeans in those days, and his cock grew quite a bit when it was set free and able to engorge.
I cupped his bum cheeks with my hands and kissed him all over, his belly, his balls, and finally I nuzzled the big cock head. I got it nice and wet by licking him all up the length and then I just sucked him.
I space out a bit when I do this- eyes closed and all very dreamy and yummy. I’m slow- I don’t jack hard or force it down my throat.
Not my style.
I do a kind of sensual worship thing, I like it when they can hold on for a bit, but he was raging.
His cock was pretty big, I’d say almost 8 inches, but the head was a real mushroom, and it filled my mouth completely. Soft, like the lips of a horse, but also backed up in there with hardness. Behind it all, the pressure building up, the semen and fluids beginning to leak.
When he let loose he groaned and swore, and his spurts filled my mouth and I swallowed them.
We were young, and he was virile; his load was probably about ten shots worth, and even when he was spent, his cock stayed hard for a long time.
I briefly considered seeing if he wanted to fuck me, but his legs had been shaking, so we sat down and he held me.
Our breathing soon got quieter again, and I could hear his heartbeat against my face, as I rested against his chest.
He said something, I forget what, it was complement, also a ‘thank you.’
‘Anytime,’ was my sassy response.
We wandered back to the party, and tried to look serious.
I keep saying I didn’t think it was a big deal, and in mind it wasn’t. I also didn’t worry about him telling anybody. That would actually have been unthinkable.
I was with other guys and they stayed quiet about any encounters because they were terrified of being outed as gay, even though they weren’t.
I didn’t make a habit of dallying with attached or married men, or women, for that matter. There were maybe three? One was completely consensual between the three of us, but the others were relationships on the rocks anyway…
And I was the wind that helped blow them straight onto them. Sometimes all you need is some distance....
It all worked out for the best, I’m leaving out some unhappy details. In at least one case the person was being fairly seriously abused, and I’d like to think I helped.
I have no regrets, despite my mature and sober modern self.
It REALLY didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time.
I liked him, he liked me, we’d been friends for a number of years. Back in the day, everybody partied on the weekends, we were all in our 20s, that’s what you did, it was in the manual.
Of course, from a modern viewpoint, from my mature future vantage point, it seems pretty stupid that we looked forward all week to the weekend so we could take our brains literally off the hook. Doing stupid things while partying was par for the course. Of course, even then there were lines you didn’t cross, we didn’t want v******e, we were peaceniks.
He wasn’t single.
Now, I knew his girlfriend, we were also friends. Maybe somewhere in my fuzzy Bi brain I thought all three of us would be able to have fun together… I don’t know.
Of course, my future sober self is screaming ‘What the hell are you THINKING,’ but really.
It just didn’t seem like a big deal.
Maybe I should also point out I looked a bit like his girl friend at the time. We were both very slim, with long wavy hair.
There was a thing we did called country drinking. It was exactly what it sounded like, we drove off into the countryside, found a nice spot to have a midnight drinking picnic, and the person with the nicest car stereo would play tunes while we built a small fire. Usually we didn’t bother with the fire, but we weren’t completely insane- we did take precautions. I am ashamed to say we continued to party as adult campers for years, and that is still very much a past time today, as I read in the newspapers.
Anyway, Trey and I were walking around, drinking and laughing. We’d done the obligatory sit on the log and sing campfire songs, done the sitting around telling stupid stories.
I have no idea where his girlfriend even was that weekend, I’m sure he told me, but I should also point out they were a bit of a volatile couple- a lot of us were- and they were on and off a lot.
This particular weekend we had driven East until we hit the river, then found a dirt road and a beautiful spot next to the river under the full moon. It was in the middle of nowhere, although I’m sure some farmer likely owned the land.
We’d been talking and for some reason had wandered a fair distance from the rest of the revellers, and I stopped for some reason with my back against a tree.
For some reason, this became a kind of romantic moment, and he leaned into me against the tree and kissed me.
This was all very lovely, and we kissed quietly for a bit.
I really didn’t put any thought into it, I just did it.
It started with me rubbing him through his trousers, and he was rock hard and straining.
I turned us around, and now it was him with his back against the tree, as I squatted and undid his belt and jeans. We all wore fairly tight jeans in those days, and his cock grew quite a bit when it was set free and able to engorge.
I cupped his bum cheeks with my hands and kissed him all over, his belly, his balls, and finally I nuzzled the big cock head. I got it nice and wet by licking him all up the length and then I just sucked him.
I space out a bit when I do this- eyes closed and all very dreamy and yummy. I’m slow- I don’t jack hard or force it down my throat.
Not my style.
I do a kind of sensual worship thing, I like it when they can hold on for a bit, but he was raging.
His cock was pretty big, I’d say almost 8 inches, but the head was a real mushroom, and it filled my mouth completely. Soft, like the lips of a horse, but also backed up in there with hardness. Behind it all, the pressure building up, the semen and fluids beginning to leak.
When he let loose he groaned and swore, and his spurts filled my mouth and I swallowed them.
We were young, and he was virile; his load was probably about ten shots worth, and even when he was spent, his cock stayed hard for a long time.
I briefly considered seeing if he wanted to fuck me, but his legs had been shaking, so we sat down and he held me.
Our breathing soon got quieter again, and I could hear his heartbeat against my face, as I rested against his chest.
He said something, I forget what, it was complement, also a ‘thank you.’
‘Anytime,’ was my sassy response.
We wandered back to the party, and tried to look serious.
I keep saying I didn’t think it was a big deal, and in mind it wasn’t. I also didn’t worry about him telling anybody. That would actually have been unthinkable.
I was with other guys and they stayed quiet about any encounters because they were terrified of being outed as gay, even though they weren’t.
I didn’t make a habit of dallying with attached or married men, or women, for that matter. There were maybe three? One was completely consensual between the three of us, but the others were relationships on the rocks anyway…
And I was the wind that helped blow them straight onto them. Sometimes all you need is some distance....
It all worked out for the best, I’m leaving out some unhappy details. In at least one case the person was being fairly seriously abused, and I’d like to think I helped.
I have no regrets, despite my mature and sober modern self.
3 years ago
