Wrestling

I remember standing outside the window of Jon’s house, I remember doing that often, looking into the ground-floor and
seeing  him  there  lifting  weights,  stripped  to  his  supporter,  usually,  on those hot summer days in the Texas
Pan Handle. Jon was my brother’s friend – pretty much his best friend, and they were both 17, three years older than I
was.  Jon  was  strong  and  well built and handsome, devoted to his wrestling, his weight lifting, and his looks. At
fourteen  I  wasn’t  much  on  any  of  those things, but my brother was, and they were inseparable partners in their
workouts.

But,  sometimes Jon would be alone, working out in the Recreation Room of his family’s split/level ranch house in the
town  in  which  I  grew  up,  and  on  those  days, walking by on my way from no-place to no-place in the hot summer
afternoon,  I would creep up to his window and look. His torso would be stripped and sweating, beads of sweat turning
into  little  streams  as they ran unhindered by any hair down his smooth chest. His chest and legs were hairless, as
was his buttocks which I could tell because of his preference for working out wearing only his jockstrap. Houses were
not  so  commonly  air  conditioned  where we were, and while his was, he didn’t turn it on his workouts, leaving the
windows  open  and  letting  himself  work  up a good sweat. My brother had hair on some of those parts, most heavily
around  his buttocks and on his legs and arms, though he did have some on his back, too, even then, at the age of 17.
But Jon didn’t he was as smooth as I was, and I was very smooth, even for 14.

He  would  strip in that room, also, before his workouts, and sometimes I would be early enough to see that too. That
would excite me, though I didn’t really have much experience to relate it to, having only learned about masturbating,
jacking/off,  earlier  that  year  from  my cousin, Dave. But I would arrive sometimes and see Jon come into the room
wearing  his  sweat-suit, a gym suit from school, or his jeans and a t-shirt, and he would sit on his bench press and
take  off  his  sneakers, then pull his t-shirt off over his head, and then slowly untie his drawstring gym pants and
slip  them  down  over  his  buttocks, thighs, and legs, pulling them off each foot at a time, since they had elastic
around  the ankles. He did it what I would now consider to be sensuously, although then I didn’t know that, just knew
that it got me excited to see it.

The  sensuousness of the way he undressed stopped with the jockstrap. Jon was tremendously hung and big of balls, and
the  bulge  in his jock was large. Since he was always kind of soft/hard, (he had that kind of dick), the jock always
looked  very  full.  He seemed to like the feeling of his bare butt hugged by the straps, he would adjust them a lot,
pulling  the  jock  around,  fitting  his  dick  and balls in a number of different positions, and then adjusting the
ass/straps, then starting all over again.

He would do much of this adjusting and fiddling with his parts sitting on his bench, rubbing his bare butt up against
the  cool surface of the wood. It was an old bench, not vinyl covered like the new ones, but polished smooth by years
of  his  body  rubbing against it, and I supposed of his older brother’s before him and maybe his father’s too. After
that,  he  would  straddle the bench, his legs on either side, and slide around a little, getting his position on the
bench. That would open up his ass a little, so that his lower crotch and groin would be pressed up against the bench.
This  must have gotten him a little excited, because his jock would always swell a little in the pouch at this point,
and I tried never to miss that moment, right before he would lie down on his back and begin to press the weights.

Jon  was  the  wrestling team captain of the local high school, and was a hero to all of us boys, especially jr. high
schoolers  who were on their way to high school. He was my brother’s best friend, which, in the neighborhood, made me
a  hero  by  association. I wasn’t particularly athletic in nature, but was wiry and strong and wrestled around a lot
with  my  friends,  as much for the sexual contact amongst us as for the sport. I think we all did at that age, there
was a lot of groping and grappling and grabbing, and many more times a hand grabbed a crotch than was necessary for a
pin. And speaking of pins, it was hard to tell, sometimes, what constituted winning, pinning someone or being pinned,
since  the  most common position in which to be pinned was someone’s chest grinding into your crotch. We all got hard
doing it, and no one ever stopped, so I guess we all did it for that. There was some good natured kidding around, and
some  of the guys would catcall to others, saying “Hey, Bob, that your dick or do you have a pencil in your pocket?”,
or  “that  a  pencil in your pocket or do you love me that much?”, things like that, but everyone got hard, so nobody
was so embarrassed that he stopped.

But Jon would sometimes give me pointers and lessons. He was, after all, my brother’s best friend and would be at our
house  at  least  as  often  as  he  hung  around  anywhere else, and a lot of times he and my brother would work out
together,  either  at  our  place  or his, and they would go through move, throws, positions, etc. And, as often as I
could  arrange to be, I would hang out with them and watch, bring them things they wanted, like a soda, or a piece of
pie,  or  a towel, and sometimes Jon would say to me, “Hey, Glen, you want me to show you a new fall?”, or “Glen, you
want  me  to  work on that pin with you?”, and I would be there, my body up against his now sweat covered body, then,
suddenly, pinned under his greater size and weight. Being thrown by Jon was always like that, we would wrestle around
for  a  couple  of minutes, then, suddenly, without having any idea of how it happened, there I would be, on my back,
with his body pressing into mine and pinned to the ground. At those time, unlike with my friends, I would try to keep
his  weight  off  of my crotch, because I didn’t want him to know that I was hard. With other guys my own age, it was
ok,  after  all,  we were all hard, and we all jacked off together at some time or another, or more than once, all us
friends.  But  Jon  was my big brother’s friend, my hero, my love. I didn’t want him to start to call me queer, or to
get  turned  off to working out with me and in front of me, so I tried to keep him from seeing the fact that my dick,
which  had just become a full sized tool that year, was swelling. Sometimes, I would have to ask him to get up off of
me  and  let me go to the bathroom, I would tell him I had to go and was going to wet my pants. I was going to wet my
pants  all right, but not with piss. I would rush off to the bathroom and whack my meat off in about 10 seconds, wash
it  up  and  come back. I don’t know how he could have missed my hard-on pressing against my pants, but he never said
anything about it.

Sometimes  Jon  would  come over to our house and my brother wouldn’t be there. Most of the time he would just leave,
telling  me  to  tell  Dave  that he would be at someplace or another, and that he should catch up with him, but this
particular  summer,  the summer of my 14th year and his summer before college, he would, sometimes, come in when Dave
wasn’t  there  and  hang around me for a while. Maybe because our house was air conditioned, and it was very hot that
summer,  or  maybe  because  my mom, knowing that she had two very hungry boys in the house and also all our friends,
always  left  the  refrigerator  and  the kitchen pantry well stocked with snacks, pies, ice cream, drinks, and other
goodies. A couple of very hot days he just came in and watched a little television with me, sitting in our den in the
air  conditioned comfort, and during the commercials he would wrestle around with me a bit, throwing his big arm over
my  shoulder  and  pressing  me into the couch. This was what he and my brother would do when they were just “sitting
around” and “hanging out”, and I thought it was great to be considered ok in this way.

Well,  this  summer  was  his  last,  he was on his way to college the next year, accepted both because he was a good
student  and  on  a scholarship for his wrestling. He was going to be going to school in the East, to Penn State, and
wouldn’t  be  home  much  after  that, so he and my brother, who was going into the Navy, were spending a lot of time
together.  And  this  was  a  hot  summer, very hot, and when he wasn’t at our house, he was in his workroom at home,
stripped  to  those  comfortable,  familiar, and well stretched jock straps, and working out. So, most of my mornings
were spent hanging around his house, waiting for the workout to begin.

This  particular  morning  was  close to the end of summer, late in August, I don’t remember the exact date, but I do
remember  that  there  wasn’t much time before both Jon and Dave left, maybe the last week or so before they went. It
was hot, very hot, the air dead, no breeze, the dust floating as if it would never come down, not a cloud, no sign of
any  relief.  Dave  was  away for a couple of days to get everything set for his entrance to the Navy-College program
that  he was entering at Oklahoma State, and I was walking down the street in front of Jon’s house, hoping that I had
timed  my  stroll right, and that he would be coming down to begin his workout just about now. In the bright sunlight
it was hard to see into the house, and, since it was so hot and bright out, Jon didn’t turn the lights on in the den,
so  that I had to go right up to the window to see in. I went over to the house as quietly as I was able and began to
watch from a crouching position outside his window.

It  was very bright outside, and consequently it was dim inside by comparison. I had to get up close to the window to
be  able  to see in. But I was in luck. Jon was already down, sitting with his back to me and to the open window, his
t-shirt  already  off  and  just pulling the second of his two slippers off his foot. I watched as he started to pull
down his pants, pulling them off each leg, and then as he turned to face the bottom of the bench, sideways to me, and
began his ritual of adjusting his massive equipment inside his jock. His chest and legs and buns were already covered
with a sheen of sweat, even though he hadn’t started his workout. It was that hot. His body was so sweaty that it got
the  wood  of  the  bench  wet, and as he lay down to begin his presses, his skin and flesh slid on it, then made the
sucking noises which happen when the skin is wet enough to act like a suction cup against the hard wood of the bench.
I  watched  for a while as he began his presses. Each time he would arch his back, his buttocks would cup against the
bench  and  make  that  slurping sound as they pulled away. As he increased his effort, he sweated more, and he stuck
more.  After his sets, he rolled over off the bench for his towel, and I noticed that his jock was more stretched and
full in front than usual, as if his dick was harder than usual.

He  took  his  towel  and  dried  his arms, chest, face, and thighs, and then rubbed between his legs and up into his
sweating  crotch.  Just  then  he  looked  up,  and I guess I wasn’t careful enough, because he saw me standing there
looking  in.  “Hey,  Glen,”  he  called  out  to  me,  laughing,  “what are you doing out there? You a peeping tom or
something?”  I  was  going to blush and run away, but I couldn’t do that. I was too close to Jon, he was my brother’s
best friend. “Nope, just trying to get in out of the heat, and … well, you know….” I finished rather lamely.

“Come  on  in, you can spot for me.” Jon turned back to the bench and draped the towel around his shoulders. “After I
have done my presses, I will show you some new moves I am working on. Bet you can even pin me with one if I show them
to  you.”  He  dried  off  the bench and laid the towel down on the wood, to keep himself from sticking to it when he
sweated.  I  guess  it was uncomfortable for him, even though it had been very exciting for me. I liked the sound and
the look of his buns sticking to the wood.

I  just  climbed  into the room through the window. It was there and open, and it was the way we did things then. Jon
was  getting ready for his next set. His body was sweated up, his muscles standing out against his tight skin. “Here,
come over here. You know how to ‘spot’ for me, don’t you?” Jon asked me as he started to pump himself up for his next
set.  “Sure,”  I  told  him, “I’ve done it a lot for Dave.” And I had, too. My brother often asked me to spot for him
when  he  was  lifting  weights,  and  a couple of times I had saved him from hurting himself when he went beyond his
limits. I went over by the head of the bench and put my hands on the barbell and helped Jon to guide it straight over
his  chest.  He  did his presses and a couple extra, I guess he was showing off for me, and then had a little trouble
getting  it  back  to the stand. I helped him, and when we were done, I helped him to sit up and pulled the towel out
from  under  his  naked  buns  and  started to dry his back. “Hey,” Jon said to me, “just like a trainer in the gyms.
You’re  good.”  I  dried  his  back  and  his  chest off. They were so clean, so smooth, so muscular. I could feel my
recently jacked-off dick swelling a little.

(I should digress here to say that when I say recently jacked-off dick, I mean really recently. I was a the beginning
of  a very active adolescence, and my juices were really starting to flow that summer. I must have beat myself off on
average  3  or 4 times a day. I didn’t realize it then, but part of that was my growing attraction to guys. There was
so  much opportunity to see half naked guys, naked guys, and rub around with guys, that I was hot pretty much all the
time.  I had beat off that morning when I got up, and once just before leaving home to spy through Jon’s window. And,
as  usual  then, was ready to do it again, and my balls were really full of juice again. I have always had big balls,
and then they were always full, ready to shoot.)

I  moved  around  in  front of him and dried his legs and thighs, but I didn’t get anywhere near his crotch. I didn’t
want  him to move away, and I was scared. He was my brother’s best friend, and I didn’t want any trouble with Dave. I
finished  by  drying  off his feet, which tickled him, and he started to swat at me and hit me away, laughing all the
time.  Then  he stood up, and said: “Well, Dave is away and I don’t have anyone to work out with. You want me to show
you  these  new  throws  I have, and teach them to you. Maybe you can really learn them, and if they are as good as I
think they are, you could even pin me. Want to try?”

“Sure,”  I  told  him. “I am always ready to learn something. Anyway, I could throw you and pin you without them.” He
laughed.  I  had  said that to him before, it was so much bullshit, but it was a joke between us. Like I said before,
when he wanted to, he could throw me and pin me so fast that I really didn’t know what hit me.

Jon,  remember,  was stripped to his bare butt and jock strap, and nothing else except a film of sweat which was back
on  his skin in this heat, even though I had just toweled him. I was dressed in cotton gym shorts, and a t-shirt, and
sneakers  without  socks,  and  nothing else. (It was that time of the decade and my life when wearing shorts with no
under  pants or briefs was the thing to do, and I did the thing to do. It was hot, I liked the air around my dick and
balls,  and  I  thought  it was sexy and daring.) I pulled off my t-shirt and my sneakers, and helped Jon to pull the
heavy  bench  and  stand  out  of  the middle of the floor and out of the way, over by the wall. He took down a heavy
wrestling  mat  which  was rolled up and standing in the corner, and the two of us unrolled it and centered it in the
middle  of  the  floor.  I  was wearing only my shorts. Only my shorts, nothing underneath. “You get down, assume the
bottom  position.” Jon said to me, and as I did get down on my hands and knees, he knelt beside me and took the upper
position.  Down  like that on my hands and knees, my dick, which had no briefs to hold it, showed clearly through the
material  of  my shorts. When Jon put his big hands on my arms and straddled me, I could feel the slick sweatiness of
his skin on by back, and some of his sweat soaked through the cotton of my shorts, wetting my buns. My dick swelled a
little, but not so much that it was embarrassing.

“Now watch this,” Jon said, and before I knew what happened I was lying on my stomach on the mat, my face in the mat,
Jon’s  weight  pressing  me  down,  his  jock  strap covered crotch grinding into my butt, his chest sweetly pressing
heavily  on  my  back. He was pressing me down, so that my dick was ground into the mat, and it was almost impossible
for me to breathe.

“Now,  pay  attention,” Jon said again, and before I knew what had happened, he had moved his forearm under my chest,
and  his  other hand went down across my abdomen and then past my dick and under my crotch, and in less than a second
he  had flipped me over and was pinning me to the mat on my back, with his naked, sweaty, smooth slick chest pressing
against  mine. He was much bigger than I, so that his nipples spanned from my chest to just above my dick, the tip of
my  dick  flipped  upwards and brushing his nipple. The sweaty suction of his chest now gripped my stomach, so that I
could feel his body sticking to mine. He looked around into my face, his lips so close to mine that I could smell his
breath, which was sweet and smooth, and I could see every feature of his smooth face, which had no blemishes on it at
all. Jon was a very healthy young man, and it showed in his skin, in everything.

“I  can  get  out  of this,” I said to him, somewhat out of breath, and I began to struggle, pushing up with my heels
against  the  mat  for  leverage  and using the strength of my upper legs. This forced Jon to bear down and shift his
weight  more  evenly  over  my  body,  so that now his chest was over mine, his stomach over my stomach. Since he was
taller,  his dick was down between my thighs, but his abdomen pressed hard into my crotch and dick. I was starting to
get a little hard, which was something that happened to me about every thirty minutes or so, at least, but I couldn’t
feel his dick since the jock pouch was down below my crotch.

I continued to struggle, which caused him to bear down harder, which made me a little harder, and then, in the course
of struggling, I brought my legs together to try to lift myself up. I was surprised to discover that Jon seemed to be
hard,  also, there in his jock. When my thighs came together, I could feel his dick and it was in a definite boner. I
pressed  up  against  his  body  harder,  and the skin of my smooth thighs encountered the bare tip of his dick head,
which,  his boner being as much bigger than mine as he was taller than I, was sticking up a fraction of an inch above
the  line of the waist band of his jock. I had seen Jon naked once before, in the shower of my house one weekend when
he  had  stayed with Dave, and knew that he had a very massive dick. I hadn’t ever seen it hard, but I was feeling it
now, and it was large.

I  was  a  little  shocked.  I didn’t know what to do. I was hot, but then, I was always hot. I was 14 and would hump
anything  to  get  off, my pillow, my mattress, a rug, a pot holder, the inside of my shorts, the inside of anybody’s
shorts,  etc.  But  I  had never had sex with anybody else, except when my cousin Dave had taught me to jack off, and
then,  we  just  did it together, but not to each other. We had been together for Christmas Vacation, and our parents
had  taken three rooms, one of each of them, and one for the kids. My brother Dave had left early to do something for
his  ROTC,  and  so my cousin Dave and I were left alone in the room for three days at the end. I had never beat off,
but  had  a boner every morning when I woke up, and rubbed it a lot, but didn’t really know anything about getting it
off.

The  first  morning  after  my  brother left, I got up and started for the bathroom with my dick sticking up under my
briefs, a clear flag pole of my state. Dave had noticed this every morning so far, but with my brother there, had not
said  anything.  (My  brother  and  I had both seen each other’s boners in the mornings, but we considered them to be
normal,  what  you  had until you went in to pee.) My brother had told me that, and since we both had them most every
morning  (we  shared  a  room  at  home,  too),  we didn’t think much of it. Except that I liked the way it felt, and
squeezed  it  and  felt  it  before I got out of bed a lot. If my brother noticed that, he never said anything, and I
guess he did the same thing, also.

Anyway,  Dave, my cousin Dave that is, not my brother also called Dave, leaned out of his bed, which was between mine
and  the  bathroom  in the motel room, and put his hand out and took my hard little dick in his hand as I went to the
john.  Actually,  he  didn’t  take it in his hand, he hit it, lightly, with a flick of his fingers and said: “What is
this thing? It’s always sticking out in the mornings like it wants to get whacked off.”

Well,  to  be  truthful,  I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about. It might be hard to believe, but I didn’t
know  what  masturbation  was. I guess I was somewhat innocent, more so than most, but for some reason, I just didn’t
know. And so, in all honesty and innocence, I asked him, “What does that mean?”, and I’m not sure if he thought I was
inviting  him,  knowing  what  was going to happen, or if he believed me, but he played it straight and asked me if I
hadn’t ever jacked off, and I asked him again, what does that mean?

Well,  that  was  all  it  took. Dave was out of bed, out from under the covers in a second, and he was naked when he
stood  up. I don’t know if he had slipped his shorts off under the covers when I stood up, or if he had them off from
before;  I  don’t know if he was beating himself hard under the covers before this started, if he planned to jack off
and  cum  while  I was in the bathroom, or what. (I do know that Dave is now gay and so I presume that this was a big
turn  on for him then.) Anyway, he stood up and was buck naked and was hard, and his dick, which was fully developed,
with  nice  balls  and  some  downy  hair  around  the  base of his dick and his balls, his dick was standing at full
erection,  full  attention, and his hand just went to it naturally and wrapped itself around it, and he leaned over a
little  and  bent  his  head and started to spit on his dick and fist, and got his dick and fist all wet with his own
saliva.

He  started  to  stroke  it very slowly, and said: “Like this, this is beating off. Don’t you know?”, and so I had to
say, “No, I don’t know about it. I never did it.”

He couldn’t believe that my brother hadn’t showed me, but then he thought about my brother Dave, the ROTC cadet, Navy
bound, and I guess he figured the either Dave had never jacked off, or certainly hadn’t wanted to “corrupt his little
brother,” so he start to instruct me.

“Like this,” he said, and opened his fist so I could see his hard dick with the veins swelling out on the sides, “you
grab  it like this and get it wet, because it feels much better that way than if it is all dry, and you let your fist
close  around  it not too tight at first, and stroke it, letting the skin of your palm slide against the skin of your
dick,  like this, slowly, then harder and faster as you go on.” And he showed me, very carefully and in great detail,
how you went about beating off, until finally his dick exploded in gobs of wet, white, creamy cum.

Well,  I  was  hard as could be watching this, and after Dave came he smeared his cum all over his dick and fist, and
started  right  in again. “I can cum three or four times in a row, in about 5 to 6 minutes,” he told me as he started
to  whack off again. “You try yours now, do what you saw me do.” And so, of course, I did what Dave had done, and the
results  were  about the same, an explosion of white, hot, creamy, steaming cum, but not as much as his, and thinner.
I’ve  been  told  since then by a lot of guys and a couple of doctors, too, that the first time is always thinner and
less than it gets to be later on, but, the feeling, ah, the feeling.

Dave  shot  his second load about 15 seconds after I shot mine, and we both sat down on his bed. He reached under his
pillow  and  pulled  out  his underpants, which he used to wipe the cum off of his dick and his hand, and then passed
them  to  me  for  the same purpose. I cleaned up, and we both lay there and talked, and he told me all about beating
off,  that  everybody  does  it, how he had learned from a counselor in Boy Scout Camp who had him share his tent one
night  on  an  overnight, what else had happened that night, all that kind of stuff. We didn’t touch each other, just
talked,  and  then  at  the  end we both got up and took showers, pissed, got dressed and went to breakfast just like
nothing  had  happened.  Except  we seemed to need to rest and spend a good bit of time lying down the next couple of
days,  and  our parents couldn’t figure out if we were sick or just tired or lazy or what, but what we were doing was
beating off, about five times a day.

Anyway,  this  is  a  digression. These memories only took about two seconds to flash before me as I lay pinned under
Jon,  his hard dick pressing into my thighs, my own hard dick pressing into his abdomen, and then he rolled off of me
very  fast  and was up and walking away before I could look at his crotch and let my eyes confirm what I had felt. He
went  and  sat  on  his bench in such a way that I couldn’t really see his crotch, and started to dry with his towel,
letting  it  hang down over his lap. The only thing I could be sure of was that I had been hard under him, and that I
still was. What if I had imagined his hard-on because I wanted it to be there?

“Pretty good, huh?” Jon said to me, dropping the towel into his lap. “Bet you didn’t even know what hit you with that
one.”

“That’s  true,” I answered, “but you’re much bigger and stronger than I am. I don’t know if the hold is so good or if
you just overpower me.”

“I’ll teach it to you, then,” Jon replied. “If you can use it to flip and pin me, then it is great.”

Jon  got  down  in the down position. When he stood up to come to the mat, I noticed that his crotch seemed to be its
normal,  large,  filled jock state, and didn’t see any sign of a hard on or a dick tip above his waist band. I didn’t
know  if it had gone down, or if it had never been there. I went over and got down over him, and put my arms over his
body and my hands in the right positions. I could feel my own nipples sticking to his smooth back.

“Now,  slide  your  weight  up and over me, and at the same time dig your heels in and press your shoulder against my
side,”  Jon  began,  and  he  instructed me slowly a couple of times through the complex motions of the throw and pin
which  he  had  worked  out. It was hard to learn, and the first couple of attempts I couldn’t budge him, but after a
while  it  seemed  that  it was getting easier, and that I could use my weight and leverage to throw him over and pin
him. He showed me carefully how to slide my hand down across his belly, moving over his crotch, between his legs, and
the to use my forearm as a lever and flip him over. He wasn’t wearing anything but his jock, remember, so each time I
moved  my  hand,  I encountered first his dick and balls, and then the smooth, bare skin of his ass cheeks. To do the
flip  I had to hold onto something, so I found myself holding onto his ass, my fingers closing around the bun, and my
finger  tips  sliding  into  the  crack of his cheeks. Jon continued to show me patiently. He didn’t seem to mind the
squeezing on his ass.

Finally,  after  we  had  done  it  about twenty times, and were both covered with sweat, I had him over and down and
flipped  in  on  fluid  motion, my chest pressing against his chest,my crotch digging into his abdomen (he was taller
than  I,  remember),  and  my thighs pressing hard into his crotch. I looked around at him the way that he had at me,
earlier,  and as I looked over into his eyes, I could feel his dick starting to swell again, against the inside of my
thighs,  until  the  smooth flesh of the head and tip came up out of the jock. My own dick was hard, and with all the
moving  around,  my  shorts had kind of gotten pushed down a little, so most of it, about the last inch of the shaft,
and  the  head,  swelled up and stood out of the waist band of my shorts and pressed into the sweaty, gripping smooth
flesh of his abdomen and my crotch pressed together.

In  one  fluid  motion  Jon  slid  his  arm  between our bodies, the lubricant of the sweat helping, and down past my
hardness and up into my crotch, around past my balls and up under my shorts to the flesh of my ass buns, and grabbing
me  as I had been grabbing him, with his fingers moving into the crack between the cheeks, he leveraged me up off his
chest,  threw  his weight into his heels, and flipped me onto my back, pinning me. In that move my shorts came almost
completely  off,  they  were  too  loose and big anyway, (I told you I like the airy quality of loose clothing in the
summer), and my dick and balls came into full contact with the sweaty flesh of his belly.

Jon had me pinned, completely pinned. He was pressing his full weight down onto my body, his stomach pressing into my
crotch,  his nipples on my chest. I couldn’t budge, except to breathe, and to get harder in my dick. That was all the
movement  that  would  happen. I was very excited, that was for sure. The most attractive person to me in my life was
Jon.  He  was the captain of the wrestling team, he was my older brothers best friend, he was the best looking boy in
town,  he had my body pinned under his, I was mostly naked, my dick was hard and pressed against him, and he knew it.
And,  so,  I  brought  my  legs together, and the smooth, silky flesh of my inner thighs, that flesh which never gets
hard, which always has a smooth texture, and is always soft and welcoming, that smooth warmth between my legs wrapped
itself around his completely hard and free dick. Hard. Free.

Somehow,  in  the  turn  and  throw,  his jock had come loose. I don’t know to this day if he did it so fast I didn’t
notice,  or  if  in  all  the wrestling around it just got pulled down, but what I found with my thighs was his dick,
definitely hard, definitely free of his jock, and definitely pressed between my two legs which were pressed together,
and definitely he was humping me.

It  was  that  simple.  Jon  was humping me. I looked up into his face and it was clear, he was going to hump my legs
until  he  came,  and  I was welcome to cum, too, if I wanted to, cause every time he moved up and down to thrust his
dick  in  and  out of my leg clamp, every time he fucked my inner thighs, the smooth, slick, sweaty skin of his belly
fucked my dick.

I  didn’t  know  what  to do. I couldn’t say anything. Didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t want to fight him off, I
loved  it.  But  I  didn’t  want  to take a chance that we would think something bad of me. So I just wrapped my legs
tighter, squeezed his dick harder, wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my face into the nape of his sweaty neck,
quietly  tasting  the salt of his skin on my lips, and began to hump back. Shit, if he could actually hump my thighs,
then, fuck, I could hump his stomach back!

As  soon  as  Jon realized that I was responding, that he wasn’t fucking a mattress or a pillow, but a living boy who
was  fucking back, he began to really get into it. His big hands slid under my sweaty back and down to my buns, where
they  began  to  knead my cheeks. That lifted my legs up slightly, which gave me a better crevice for him to fuck. He
shifted  his  angle  a little, so that his dick was now in my thighs parallel to my legs instead of pushing down into
them  and  to the floor. His dick head was now actually rubbing against the bottom of my crotch, between my balls and
ball sack and my ass crack. I lifted up just a fraction of an inch more, and the tip of his dick head slid right into
the  crack  of  my  ass cheeks, the shaft embedded between my thighs, the cum slit pointing straight as my asshole. A
hard shot would drive his shaft right up my anus, except that at that angle it wasn’t possible.

At  the same time I increased the force of my arms around his neck, and pulled my body closer to his, the force of my
humping  freeing the rest of my scrotum from my shorts. I rammed my body and dick upward, pressing the full length of
my  dick,  the tip, head, full shaft, and the whole of the bottom of my ball sack, up against his belly. The sweat of
both  our bodies had made our skin so slippery that I was encased in an envelope made by both our bellies, smooth and
slippery,  ideal  for  fucking.  I didn’t know what to make of it. I had only ever beat off before, mostly alone, and
only  for  a few months. And here I was, being fucked by the one boy I had a crush on, the one I only wanted to watch
all the time.

We  were both young. We were both hot, and worked up, and it had been a good workout on the weights, on the wrestling
mat, and we were both ready. It didn’t take long. I felt I couldn’t last any longer, and grabbed the hair at the back
of  Jon’s  head and squeezed everything: my legs together around his dick, my arms around his neck, inside I squeezed
around  my  dick  and  balls,  my  asshole.  I felt his dick suddenly go rigid, then start to move again, the same as
before,  but  harder,  fuller, and his dick started to grow, bigger. I cried out and threw my heels and calves up and
around  behind  him, pressing with the smooth, silky, hairless inside of my thighs against his shaft. I felt his dick
get bigger still, and then slide up this smooth channel made by my inner thighs, and up into the crack of my ass, and
I  felt  the  tip  actually  touch  the outer rim of my asshole, and then I came, and he came, at just about the same
moment, and I came big, bigger than I had ever come, so big that I must have had 12, 15 bursts of orgasmic throbbing.

And  Jon  came  too, very big. The first massive spurt came as he drove his dick with a sudden thrust further than it
had  been  before.  The tip just parted the rim of my asshole, although, as I said, the way we were lying it couldn’t
penetrate.  (It  is  probably  just  as  well.  I  was young and inexperienced, and he was big and inexperienced, and
unlubed,  and if he had pressed inside of me I probably would have 1-screamed, 2- been in pain, and 3-freaked out all
over the place.) As it was, it was just enough of a penetration to get a good bit of that first load of jizz actually
up  into my asshole, without hurting me or me really understanding what was happening. I don’t think he meant to fuck
me, it was just part of what happened in the heat of this sudden moment. (I don’t think any of it was planned).

And  then  Jon really started to cum. I thought I had a lot of spurts and a big load on. He started to really fuck my
crack, and he must have kept it up for at least 2 or 3 minutes, and he was cumming the whole time. To be sure, not as
much  as that first blast, but cumming, noticeably cumming. We were drenched. I was filled with his cum. It was in my
ass, around my ass, in between my legs, under me, I was lying in it, it was under my buns, it was hot, it was cooling
off,  it was slippery, it was drying, it was everywhere and everything at that moment. And between us, caught in that
secret  cave  made  around  my  dick  by our bellies, was my cum, sealing us together like the magic glue it was. Jon
suddenly  relaxed.  His  weight dropped on to me as if he had fallen. I held on tighter, and pressed my face into his
neck.  I  was  frightened. Even though he was the older one, and had started the humping first, what if he told Dave,
what  if he made fun of me? It didn’t occur to me at that moment that he might be afraid of what I would say or do. I
knew  that  I  had wanted this, had waited outside for it to begin, and couldn’t see past that. In my mind, I was the
seducer, had raped him, and he was going to get even.

Jon  reached  around  and  unclasped  my  hands  from behind his neck, and pressed them down onto the mat. He pressed
himself  up  slightly, as in a push up, and looked down into my face. I looked up at him. There was nothing either of
us  could  say. Suddenly, we were both sure. Sure that we would never say anything, to anyone, not even to each other
after today was over. Sure that we had both wanted it, sure that it was finished.

I  don’t  know  how I knew all of that. I was only 14, but even now, looking back, a wisdom came to me that was older
than  that.  I  reached  up  and  took Jon’s face in my hands and pulled it down to me, and kissed him on the cheeks,
that’s all. He tousled my hair like he always did.

We both stood up.

“Some throw, isn’t it?” Jon asked me.

“It sure is,” I said. “Best I ever saw.