Summer First Time

The Megastore's sound system dragged my memory back 50 years.

The moment I heard that song again, I was instantly transported back to that magical summer of 1973.

David Bowie singing Time from his hit album Aladdin Sane produced an immediate, embarrassing and slightly discomforting rock hard, raging boner surrounding my crotch area, leaving my trousers somewhat misshapen..

What a trigger!

It felt like everybody was staring at my stiffy. As I stood in the queue at the checkout with the items I'd chosen for my evening meal. I attempted to strategically place my carrier bag to hide my embarrassment.

Once I'd finally managed to successfully negotiate my purchase and make my way outside, I uncomfortably hobbled to my car.

It was quite fortuitous that I had selected a nice dark, secluded area of the car park.

Furiously masturbating into a hastily snatched tissue from my glove compartment, I satisfied my sudden urge for relief.

All the while my mind re-lived the very real sensation that I had felt all those years ago - the first time somebody had had my cock in their mouth.

I sat there in my car -- now flaccid cock in hand -- and I was whisked back all those years ago to the weekend that awakened my first sexual experiences with another person.

It all tied in with the music of the time.

Bowie's Ziggy Stardust was the musical masterpiece of the moment and I was, and still am, a massive fan of all things glam rock.

It was not long since I had turned 18 years of age, and really was still just a confused teenager.

What I loved to do, or thought I was doing, was being outrageous and shocking everybody.

I would wear dark eye make-up. I was small enough at the time to fit easily into women's clothes. All my spare time was spent trawling thrift shops for retro garments.

Up until that point my raging hormones had only ever produced copious amount of semen through self-produced imaginings.

As I sat in my car that evening, which was quite warm for the time of year, memories of the events surrounding Bowie's visit to my hometown started to stiffen my prick once again.

Every male teenager who is negotiating and passing through puberty more or else follows the same pattern. We awaken every morning with an erection that is almost painful. A hopeful, erotically imagined scenario and a minute or two of vigorous pounding produces much stickiness and temporary relief.

That familiar process is practically the law. This daily ritual will I'm sure resonate with about 50% of readers, and greatly amuse the other roughly 50%.

I was an only child. A single product of an Irish, (lapsed) catholic, family, which at the time had caused questions to be asked and tongues to wag. This was not how Irish Catholics behaved!

A single child with a quasi-religious rearing was enough to produce the usual amount of guilt and repression to confuse my sexual awakening.

I had 2 close friends who were not much older than me, and we all really loved the music scene of the time. All the dressing-up, make-up, and outrageous behavior made us feel as though we were rebels, but also part of a tribe.

We all heavily bought into the look, feel and sound of our chosen form of expression. But up until that point, that was all. Never once did we speak of sexual feelings, practices or any deeper analyses of what our young personas were experiencing.

I did catch one of my friends choking his chicken once though. I called at his house one Saturday morning when he was alone. As there was no answer to my knocking on his front door, I went around back.

As I glimpsed through a rear window, I was excited by the spectacle of my friend furiously jerking off. I was transfixed by the size my best friend's rather large penis, which I had never seen before.

Blaring out from his record player was the song Time, from David Bowie's album Aladdin Sane. The section where Bowie sings '...falls wanking to the floor..", was when my friend spectacularly climaxed, spraying an enormous load onto the wall next to him.

I waited for what seemed to be a reasonable amount of time before returning to the front of the house and knocking again.

This time he answered and ushered me in.

I remember us manically commenting on how great we thought Bowie's Aladdin Sane sounded, whilst trying to ignore the clearly visible, massive, glistening semen globules dribbling down the wall. next to us

On the July 20th 1974 David Bowie and the Spiders From Mars, on the final date of their Diamond Dogs tour, played at New York's Maddison Square Gardens. Myself and my 2 best friends managed to secure tickets to see our hero.

Myself and my 2 close friends had excitedly been waiting for this moment since we had first bought our tickets months previously.

The show was everything I had hoped it would be. I, and my friends were excited and transfixed by the glorious, glamorous, professionalism of the whole spectacle.

We all sat next to each other to begin with, 3 rows away from where our heroes performed. By the end of the set though, we were separated by the uncontrolled, manic movements of the crowd. We didn't meet again until late the next day.

Somewhat dazed and still in a state of euphoria I meandered outside the music theater following the performance, and wandered into a local bar next door.

I was extremely proud of my appearance that particular evening. I was wearing unisex, androgynous black slacks that I couldn't believe I had managed to find in a local charity shop, for next to nothing. I was also wearing a red satin bomber jacket that looked expensive, and had similarly been acquired. My make-up was very understated and highlighted by a touch off just enough black eyeliner. I wore just one long dangling earring.

"What are you drinking?" Asked a nice looking, more mature version of myself, who had a lovely smile, and was perched on a stool at the crowded bar.

"Whatever you're having", I nonchalantly replied with a grin. Not feeling anything like as cool as I hoped I looked and sounded. It turned out my new friend Frank was a mechanic. He was nearly 3 years older than me, 12 centimeters taller than me, and he didn't live with his parents.

As he talked further It felt as if he was twice my age. He had dropped out of school and gotten a job when his tastes and lifestyle hadn't coincided with what his parents wanted for him. Frank lived in an apartment 5 minutes walk away from where we sat at the bar drinking.

At this juncture in my life I had reached the grand old age of 18 years and 26 days, I was just old enough to to drink the warm beer I was sipping, and not enjoying at all. Frank though drank like a seasoned professional.

The proprietor of the premises was extremely lax and was doing great business due to the many, many music enthusiasts who frequented his bar because of its strategic location.

It was inevitable that I would accompany Frank back to his place. His apartment was small but neat and tidy. The smell of furniture polish was at first a little overpowering. If I closed my eyes I could have been in my Aunty Ethel's retirement home.

Music and more booze were the priority as soon as we had closed the door behind us. The short walk from the bar had highlighted how tipsy I really was after drinking just a couple of bottles of beer. The whisky and lemonade proffered to me was left untouched.

As soon as David Bowie began to serenade us from the speakers of Frank's powerfully home built stereo system, my host switched out the lights and gently but passionately kissed me. This was an altogether brand new experience for me, and not that unpleasant. I just went with the flow, as it were.

The passion, the sweat, the noises made by exploring tongues, along with the smell of our alcohol breath, and polish, was indeed overwhelmingly intoxicating and sensuous.

The familiar downstairs strain of my bulging erection began to feel a little uncomfortable. I wasn't aware of Frank unbuttoning my trousers but he had my throbbing cock in his hand before I had time to properly comprehend what was occurring.

Five gentle strokes later and a hot stream of my semen was making a mess on his sofa. Looking back I am extremely grateful to Frank for not commenting on my lack of control. Instead, Frank just made me feel like it was natural by continuing to slowly massage me, wordlessly insinuating everything was alright.

As soon as I was able to recover my wits somewhat, I felt I had to return the favor. The gentleness was what I remember most. Our tongues gently sucked each other as we caressed. I felt it was time to unbuckle Frank's jeans and unleash what he had obviously been holding back.

I'm not sure if I quite hid my surprise at Frank's size. I had on many occasions after seeing my friend's erect penis have cause to invoke the memory of its enormity. But the size of Frank's cock dwarfed my friend's.

Initially, as soon as I got my hands on Frank's huge, throbbing cock, all my focus was on getting him to climax. I needed to give him as much pleasure as he had given me. After 5 minutes of vigorously masturbating Frank the way I did myself, my arm was starting to ache. Just as I was beginning to run out of strength and ideas, Frank first clenched his buttocks, and then unleashed a torrent of ejaculate high into the air ultimately soaking the back of my hand.

The sight of this amazing spectacle in the faint glow of the lights of Frank's stereo system got me hard once again. More intense kissing followed. This time I lasted about for about 30 strokes from Franks gentle, masturbating fingers before I couldn't stop myself from letting go again.

We lay in each other's arms, gently rubbing our genitals together, for what was probably another 2 automatic replays of the same side of the album. Then, as I unforgivably felt I was just about to fall into a deep slumber, Frank turned over and presented himself to me.

Again rock hard, my cock nestled between his anus cheeks. I wasn't really sure of my next move until Frank shifted slightly forward, reached behind himself and guided my erect cock with gentle backward pressure until I had penetrated him. My size obviously hadn't troubles Frank at all.

Once I was all the way in the thrill and sensation was unbelievable. Gentle movement produced mini orgasms but still I remained hard. Without wishing to cause any discomfort to Frank I slowly began to thrust. With a little more pace and urgency, and with encouragement from Frank - and assertions of his own enjoyment - I was spurned onto greater efforts.

Gradually increasing in ferocity I began to fuck Frank ever more frantically until I did orgasm. I drained myself of all I had. Even by my standards to date I managed to hold back from letting go too quickly, and hopefully afforded Frank some pleasure too. There was however a lot of semen and slightly uncomfortable dribbling to deal with afterwards.

I awoke the next morning in a daze. Still in a state of high excitement and guilt my first thought was to get out and away as quickly as possible, which is what I did.

Fortunately, Frank had made that easy for me. Having to work, even though a Sunday morning, Frank had left me a note and left. I hurriedly got dressed, grabbed the note, and ran.

The way I processed the happenings of the previous night was to pretend they never happened.

It was a number of years before I mentally returned to the events of that night in any depth and analyzed what had occurred, and acknowledged their significance and importance regarding my future sexual preferences and journey.

The car park was deserted by the time I had eventually finished my reverie and returned to the present day. Even though it had started to cool down a little, I still had my cock in my hand grasping a raging hard-on.

My final wank of the evening incorporated the images of Frank kissing me whilst I vigorously masturbated him. My exchange French teacher from all those years ago expertly performed fellatio on me, interspersed with me fucking an indeterminate, only too willing young ex, extremely hard from behind.

All this took place whilst Bowie sang for me personally.