Double or Nothing

It was 1974, and the streaking craze that had inexplicably swept the whole country was in full swing. Everybody had heard about it and seen stories -- tastefully covered up in the films -- on the news. There was even a song about it that they played every day on the radio back then. But for me it was still something that only happened to other people. I mean, I had never for a moment thought about streaking myself, taking off all of my clothes and running naked through a crowd, since I had always been told by my Mom that my body was a sacred, secret thing that I had to save for the right person and the right time; and it was just my luck that I had never seen anybody else go streaking in front of me.

So, it was 1974 and it was a Sunday afternoon, I remember, pretty late in the afternoon. I had driven over to pick up my younger brother, who was then 19 years old, from his summer job at a roller skating rink in the next town over from where we lived.

The road that connected the two towns wound through mostly woods along side of a stream that shared a name with the road. On a Sunday afternoon, the two-lane road was deserted, and the most you had to look out for were deer crossing from the woods on one side of the road to the other.

As I drove home with my little brother that afternoon, up ahead I thought I saw a jogger, which was strange, because we were far from any houses or buildings in either direction. I don't think I had ever seen a jogger on this part of the road before. He was coming towards us, on our side of the road, and as we came around onto a long, straight stretch of the road and approached him it very quickly became clear that it was a totally naked man! At last, my first streaker!

"Look, Jordan, a streaker!" I squealed. "Oh Jesus," was his response. I think little bro felt more than a little bit uncomfortable looking at a naked man along with his big sister. "That is so funny," I exclaimed, and it truly was nothing short of hilarious how the man's penis -- apparently somewhat aroused, judging by its length and thickness, but by no means fully erect -- flopped and flailed around as he ran. I myself was a little bit embarrassed at being there with my kid brother seeing this, or I probably would have rolled down the car window and waved at him, or slowed down and honked the horn, or something.

The runner was young, I would guess in his early twenties, close to my own age, and he was slender and fit. No belly bulge and no love handles on this one. His hair was almost shoulder-length, in the style of the time, and it, too, flopped around as he jogged nude, okay, "streaked," on the side of the wooded road toward our approaching car. He had just the lightest bit of hair on his chest and belly, blending down to a full bush that topped his flopping, turgid thing. I looked right at his face, but he didn't return my gaze, instead seeming to focus somewhere off in the distance. I didn't recognize him, but I have to say he wasn't hard to look at.

We passed the naked runner, and I looked in the rearview mirror to get a view of his rear, pumping rhythmically and almost comically as he jogged along the berm of the road away from us in the broad daylight. Pretty firm, I thought to myself, as his nude backside finally passed out of view.

My brother caught my glance at the mirror. "Look at you, checking out his butt," he teased me. "You're a pervert!" I felt my cheeks redden, but he was right. I had just checked out the butt of a nude man I didn't know from Adam. And to make matters worse, I had done it while my own younger brother was sitting right there beside me in the family car.

About a quarter of a mile ahead of us there was a side road that ran up the hill to our right, and at the intersection there was a patch of grass. There was a car parked there -- no doubt belonging to the streaker; either that, or this man we had seen running along the road in the nude was out for a very, very long naked run, incredibly far from where he had left his car and, presumably, his clothing.

The side road ahead of us climbed up a little ways to a three-hole municipal golf course, and there was a little gravel parking lot there, with nothing between the parking lot and the road we were now driving on except those woods, and the stream, and of course the naked running guy, wherever he had gotten off to by now.

I don't know what got into me just then, but I flicked on the turn signal at the last moment and made the right turn to head up to the golf course. "Let's go have a little fun," I said to my brother, who still seemed to be a little uncomfortable at having shared an eyeful of nude male with his own big sister. He didn't say a thing. But because I was always coming up with crazy ideas of things for us to do together, I don't think he quite knew yet what it was that I had in mind.

I parked the car in the little gravel lot for the golf course and got out and swung the driver's side door closed. I could just barely make out the road where the streaker had been, down across the woods and through the trees. My little brother was still in the passenger's seat of the car, showing no signs of moving. "Come on, bro, let's go for a little walk," I urged him.

"No, thanks," was his firm reply. He folded his arms across his chest and shifted in his seat to avoid my eye. He was catching on.

"Oh come on, silly."

He showed no sign of moving.

I upped the ante. "I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes if you come with me. Come on, it'll be fun. He has to come back to his car eventually and we'll just watch from the woods to see what happens. Come on, this is the first streaker we've ever actually seen."

He thought about my offer for a moment. "Cigarettes, and a Coke," he bargained.

"That's a deal, little brother," I agreed, "come on, let's go."

Together, we headed off from the parking lot toward the woods and the little stream at the bottom of the hill, angling roughly for the area where we had passed the streaker on the side of the road below. It was quiet: there were no cars within our hearing on this Sunday afternoon -- it was probably dinner time for most people, I thought, and there were not even any birds chirping as we walked.

Once we reached the end of the parking lot and crossed a corner of the golf course, the woods ahead of us stretched out even wider. We headed into the trees along a faint path through the underbrush. This part of the woods in general was a popular place for teenaged kids to go and hide in the summer time and drink beer and smoke cigarettes. The woods were dense enough as you moved farther into them that you couldn't see very far at all, and sounds didn't seem to carry very far. We couldn't even hear the stream until we were almost there on its banks. And since this area was right on the border between the two neighboring towns, the cops rarely if ever drove on the stretch of road on the other side of the stream, the same stretch of road where we had first spotted the streaker. Undoubtedly, that was the reason this unknown man had chosen that stretch of road for his naughty, obscene little display.

The place in the woods where we saw him was also very near the place where I had performed my first blowjob. I would hardly call him a boyfriend, but in the summer after our senior year in high school that particular boy and I had played around a little bit together. I had let him touch my boobs a few times while we made out, and one time he unbuttoned my jeans and rubbed me through the pink cotton panties I was wearing that day. It really didn't do that much for me, but at the same time that he was touching me between my legs, I reached down between his thighs and discovered to my young, innocent shock that he was very big and hard down there. So I moved my head down to his waist and tugged his jeans down to his knees, along with his tighty whitey underwear, and taking a quick look at my first hard boy, I leaned forward and took him tentatively into my inexperienced mouth, there in the secluded woods. He placed his hand on the back of my head and pushed me towards him, setting a rhythm that I quickly followed. He had a musky, sweaty smell, and I used my hand to brush his curly pubes away from my lips and nose. There was already a taste of something salty and slightly bitter about him.

I tried my best to swirl my tongue around his erect penis as it slid in and out of my mouth, but I remember thinking that it was so big that it was all I that could do to open my jaw wide enough to let anything more than just the purple, mushroomy-shaped head of it inside. I remember thinking that my mouth must be unnaturally small because it would simply not be possible for me to fit all of that big thing inside of me. I wondered if I would be able to pleasure him sufficiently with my tiny little mouth, but he said some nasty, dirty things like "Oh, God," and "Oh, shit" and "Oh, fuck, baby," and then suddenly I felt these spurts of his warm, acidy salty liquid squirting into me and against the roof of my mouth. I gagged and coughed and some of it came back out of my mouth and even up into my nose, and it tasted really gross. I held onto his throbbing penis with one hand and let it shoot its stuff into me, swallowing as best as I could. When it was over, I wiped my face with my hand, and while I swallowed what was in my throat and my mouth, I looked around and wiped the stuff that was now on my hand onto some leaves. My eyes were watering badly, and even I could not quite tell if I was truly crying right then or just having a reaction to the nasty stuff he had just sent all up inside my mouth and nose and throat.

Meanwhile, the boy I had just totally sucked off and swallowed was breathing heavily and lying back on his elbows there in the woods, his shrinking penis still hanging out from the jeans around his knees, and he had this look on his face like he had just seen Heaven.

I swallowed again a few times to try to get the taste of his sperm out of my mouth, and I smiled inwardly knowing that at last I had given my first blowjob to a boy. I guessed, despite my lack of experience, that I had done just fine.

I was torn away from this memory when my brother whispered, "hey, look, there he is!" I saw the nude figure of the streaker coming toward us in the woods and I hissed, "quick, get down!" and laid myself down behind an old fallen log, peeking around it to see where our little streaker was now. He was still as naked as the day he was born, but I was surprised to see that he wasn't running any more and he wasn't on the side of the road, either. Instead, he was just walking along the far bank of the little stream, well inside the woods at that point and completely out of sight of the road. Whatever it was he was up to now, it had nothing to do with the flashing exposure of his nude body to strangers that streaking was all about. Right now, he was just walking about in the woods in broad daylight without a stitch of clothing on. I have to admit, I was intrigued.

I imagined what he must have felt, walking totally nude like that in the middle of the woods on a warm Sunday afternoon. It gave me a strong tingle inside and I blushed when I remembered that my own little brother was stretched out on the ground just inches away from me there as these naughty feelings washed over me and I lay there beside him, trying to pretend that I wasn't completely sopping wet watching this display.

Eventually, the naked man reached a little clearing next to the stream no more than twenty feet from where my brother and I were hiding. He stopped and looked around and then his right hand casually brushed against his exposed penis, making it jump a little bit and start to swell even more, until it looked like it was almost hard. His hand motion then went from a casual touch, a touch that might have been accidental, to actually brazenly holding his man-thing and slowly stroking it, pulling it until at last he had a full-blown erection as he stood there in the middle of the woods. This was no accident I was seeing. The man in the clearing was deliberately touching his own penis and he was getting an erection because of his touch.

I could hear my brother stirring in the weeds beside me and I reached out silently to "shush" him. He looked at me and rolled his eyes, and then made a show of hiding his face in his hands, not wanting to watch the scene of this grown man in front of us, fully nude, giving himself an erection out in the middle of the woods in broad daylight.

The naked man we were watching turned towards the road and stood there, spreading his feet apart a little and arching his back and stroking his engorged penis obscenely in the direction of the road, probably fantasizing just then that someone on the road could see him touching himself like that, but clearly unaware that someone, that is to say, me, really was watching him doing these indecent things.

Without taking his hand away from its business, he turned back toward the stream, facing almost exactly in my direction, and sat down in the clearing. Letting his hand play slowly along the underside of his hard member, he laid down on the ground and drew his knees up, spreading them out wide apart in the most shameful display you can imagine, and proceeded to masturbate himself in earnest. Stretched out the way he was now, I got a clear view of his testicles and I even thought, from this distance, that I could see them move in response to the things he was doing to his hard penis with his hand.

I was surprised at how long he took with himself, sometimes gripping his thing in his fist and stroking it in long, slow strokes, sometimes barely running a finger from the base of his balls to just beneath the tip, and then lightly around the ridge of his swollen head. Once, when he had been going at it for a while, he stopped his rhythmic stroking and instead touched his finger to the very tip of his penis and then drew that finger up to his mouth and wiped it on his tongue.

Even at that age, I knew about pre-cum and I knew what a nasty, dirty thing he had just done.

I glanced at my brother, whose eyes were firmly fixed on me, one arm stretched above his head as if to prevent him from accidentally seeing the nude man, the masturbating man that I was so raptly watching. Seeing me looking at that man, my brother rolled his eyes and gave me a look of disgust. I wasn't sure, but I thought he was blushing a little bit, too.

I wasn't sure what the blushing was all about.

Was he wondering if I was lying there thinking that my little brother probably masturbated, too, when he was alone in his room? That he held himself in his hand, taking pleasure from himself, or even that he tasted his own pre-cum like this man had just done? Or did he realize that I was getting aroused by the sight of a strange man who had taken off all of his clothes and was masturbating outdoors in plain view of me, beside a stream in the woods, on a Sunday afternoon? The fact of the matter is that all of those things were swirling through my mind just then.

Either way, it didn't matter, and I turned to continue watching this little secret show.

The nude man in the clearing was continuing to pleasure himself on the ground, and his hips now were beginning to roll and thrust in time with the ministrations of his hand. Then, all at once, he stopped, and removed his hand to his side. His head shot up, eyes wide, and he looked straight in my direction, as if he had some sense that someone else was here. I ducked even lower behind the old fallen log that was my hiding place, and held my breath, my heart pounding wildly. I waited a moment and then dared to peek back toward the little clearing.

The man, still stretched out naked on the bare ground, was starting to relax. He moved his hand slowly across his thigh and then drew his fingers from the bottom of his testicles, along his naked shaft and right to the head of his erect penis. His man thing twitched as his fingers made contact with the spot just below the purple head. He made a fist and stroked himself vigorously, then thrusting his hips against his hand, he finally climaxed, shooting several spurts of white fluid out of his dick and into the air, landing eventually in the light hair that covered his chest. His head was slightly raised off of the ground as he watched himself have his climax.

His body then relaxed, and he straightened his legs and lay flat in the little clearing for a while, not making any move to clean up the sperm that he had just splashed on himself in his orgasm.

All in all, it was just about the filthiest, dirtiest, hottest thing I had ever seen in my young life, and it was just a shame that my little brother was there with me at the time leading up to those splashes of the streaker's liquid, because if little brother hadn't been there, I'll bet I would have pulled my own pants down and rubbed myself secretly while I watched the show I had been treated to. I had no doubt that touching myself furiously to my own release was something that I was eventually going to do anyway once I got my little brother home. Watching this stranger please himself until he shot his warm semen onto his own chest had me nearly panting and wanting to have my own orgasm right then and there.

Eventually, the nude man lying there in the clearing with fresh sperm on his chest and belly, stirred, looking around furtively, and then stretched and pulled himself to his feet. Standing there, his penis was no longer fully hard, but it stood out from his body with a lingering thickness that wasn't fully soft, either. He put his hands on his hips and arched his back, and then, looking around again, he set off walking casually through the woods, along side the little stream, in the direction of the car that we had seen parked by the road. I hadn't seen him do anything to clean himself off, so I assumed that he was now outside walking naked in the woods in broad daylight with a load of cum sitting, sparkling in the daylight, on his chest.

When he was completely out of sight, I poked my little brother in the ribs and we both sat up, brushing leaves and dirt from our clothes. I giggled and poked him again. He moved his arms to protect himself and gave me that disgusted look again and said "I can't believe you watched that. I'll bet you actually enjoyed it. Did he... you know... did he do it all the way...?"

"Ohhh yeah!" I said enthusiastically, making no secret of the fact that I had enjoyed what I had seen. "He shot his little load onto himself and he's walking out there somewhere right now with it still on his chest where it landed," I added, relishing my little brother's obvious discomfort at hearing his big sister talking in those kind of terms about male masturbation.

"What a pervert," my little brother said, not making it entirely clear whether he was referring to the naked man we had seen streaking by the side of the road and stroking at the side of the stream and who had walked away with his own ejaculate on his chest, or if he was referring to me, who had hidden here in the weeds not twenty feet away and watched the man do those nasty things.

"Oh, come on," I chided him. "I know you do it, too." At this, my little brother blushed a deep red; I had struck a nerve!

Sensing my advantage, I pressed on. "Come on, Jordan, we know that all you boys are little dick-stroking perverts. You might as well just admit it."

He looked as though he was going to deny this, which would have caused me to laugh in his crimson face. Instead, he just muttered, uncomfortably, "So what?"

"So what," I mimicked him, and made as if I was going to grab his crotch. He moved to protect himself, but I couldn't help noticing as I did so that he had a bulge in his pants, a bulge that wasn't there before. "Little brother!" I nearly squealed, "what is that all about?" He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his arousal from his big sister. I didn't want to deal with the thought that he was aroused because his big sister sitting beside him was aroused, so I said, "Little hard boy, I know you're not gay, so... you must have gotten that," and I gestured toward his crotch," from imagining yourself doing what he just did!"