I never imagined I would like to suck cock.
When I was a teenager, I had a couple of friends who were gay and so I was not repulsed by things queer the way many guys my age were. But I was also firmly heterosexual. I had never even had a fantasy about another guy. That is, until my senior year of college.
One of my friends was what you would call a free spirit. Rob was a tall lanky kid with light brown hair, a wide smile and a happy go lucky nature, always looking for the next party. He dressed almost exclusively in overalls (this was the 1970s after all) and during the summer months he would even dispense with the shirt and shoes. It’s funny now to realize that Rob is now a respectable physician with a wife, three children, and a thriving practice. In 1979 he was just a party boy.
That summer was especially hot and so my friends and I spent much of our free time trying to find ways to cool off. I can’t remember who it was who discovered a particular out of the way farm pond, but once we knew about it, it became our regular escape from the 90 degree heat. We’d sit around on the bank, smoke a few joints, and then jump in and cavort for an hour or so, before returning to town to our various bar jobs.
Rob was the one who started the skinny dipping rule. When he arrived at the pond the first time, he shucked off his overalls and dove in. Encouraged by his blithe disregard for self-exposure, the rest of us did the same. That is was all guys made it a bit easier. While we were paddling around in the brownish water, Rob said we should make it a rule that anyone who wanted to swim at our secret swimming hole would have to agree to get naked. Because this raised the possibility of convincing girls to skinny dip with us, we all agreed.
As we were all clambering out of the water at the end of our swim, I looked over toward Rob and my jaw dropped. His cock was huge. I had never seen one that large before, not even in the few porn films I’d seen. As he walked toward the tree where his overalls hung, it slapped back and forth on his thighs, dangling there like something you would expect to see on a farm animal.
Not wanting anyone to see me staring, I wrenched my gaze away from his crotch and busied myself getting my own clothes back on. I was especially anxious to get dressed because my own cock had begun to stir and I certainly didn’t want anyone to see that.
That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think about what I’d seen. And as I thought about it, my cock began to harden. Tentatively at first, but then with gusto, I stroked myself until I came, shuddering and gasping. Immediately I was torn by conflicting emotions. Did this mean I was gay? Was there something wrong with me? When could I get another glimpse of his cock?
Afraid that I might actually be gay, I avoided Rob for several weeks and did not go swimming with the guys, for fear that I’d get a hard on in front of them. I was really terrified. But, when I found out that some girls had started to go to our swimming hole too and that they were getting naked with the guys, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Only twice more that summer did Rob and I swim on the same day, but both times I made sure to get an eyeful of his cock. And both times I spent happy evenings in my bed stroking my cock as I visualized his. The joy I felt as I fantasized about his cock evaporated as soon as I came, because my fears of being gay would return right after the orgasm subsided.
It never occurred to me that my fantasies about Rob would go any further until the following year when one of my roommates moved out of our group house and Rob asked to move in. I could hardly exercise a veto, given that he was a good friend of mine and of several of the other people in the house. So, in late August Rob moved into the room next to mine.
It was torture.
Night after night I was forced to lie in my bed and think about that cock just a few feet away from me. But even worse was the fact that Rob had a very active sex life and our walls were kind of thin. Even if they were trying to be quiet, I could hear Rob and his various dates—he seemed to have a succession of willing partners—going at it. “Oooh Rob, your cock is so big!” “Baby, I’m gonna cum!” “You fill me up so much!”
Needless to say, if my own girlfriend was not visiting, I masturbated often to the sounds coming through the wall.
By mid-winter, I couldn’t take it any more and concocted a plan that I hoped would result in me having a turn with his cock.
On a weekend when I knew that both of our current girlfriends were going to be unavailable, so I invited him to join me downtown for a few beers. All night I worried that he’d pick up some girl, but to my relief, he did not.
When we got home, I asked whether he wanted to join me in my room for a joint.
“Sure Tom,” he said, smiling a kind of woozy smile he always got when he’d been drinking.
Once we’d fired up the joint and spent a few minutes laughing about various things that had happened in the bar, I made my move.
“Rob, I picked up some incredible porn mags the other day,” I said. “Want to check them out?”
He smiled at me again. “Sure,” he said again.
Pulling them from under my chair, I passed a couple over and lit up another joint. We both began leafing through the magazines, ogling the huge tits, glistening cocks, and crazy positions of the models. My cock was already hard from anticipation, and as I snuck peeks at his, I could see a very large bulge in the crotch of his trademark overalls.
By the time the second joint was gone, I was very stoned and knew he had to be too. So, it was time.
“Rob, I gotta admit, this stuff makes me very horny,” I muttered.
“I can see that,” he laughed, looking at my crotch.
“Would you mind if I pulled out my dick and beat off,” I asked, trying to sound tentative about it.
At that he surprised me, laughing loudly. I wasn’t sure what this meant.
“Tom, I know what you really want,” Rob said. “You want to see my cock, don’t you?”
I was stunned. Was I that transparent? All I could do was nod and stammer, “Well, yeah. How did you know?”
