Fun wasn't easy to come by growing up in the inner city. My friends and I were from poor families, so we wouldn’t be playing tennis. There were no basketball courts for us, nor money for expensive baseball and hockey equipment.
Yet we managed to entertain ourselves by hanging out in our basement clubhouse, coaxing older guys to buy us cigarettes, drinking beer stolen from the family fridge. We were Irish, Italian, Jewish and Polish boys -- all different but with one obsession -- beating off in order to make "jizz."
We had heard about jizz from Aaron, the 19-year-old hottie who lived in the neighborhood. He was our idol because he shared his cigarettes with us (points); wore a black leather motorcycle jacket (multi-points); had quit high school (mega points); and rode a black Triumph motorcycle (super mega points). He worked nights at the local bowling alley, so after school we would head to his basement where he sat on an old swivel chair, his feet on a makeshift desk -- an old door placed on two 50-gallon oil drums.
The place was dank, dusty, and stank of oil.
My friend Bernie and I were mesmerized by stories of Aaron's’ sexual conquests. He was currently dating Karen, who would cling to his leather jacket on bike rides to Castle Island in South Boston where guys had sex with their girlfriends in the dark near the fortress there.
We were enthralled by his story of forcing Karen to pull down his jeans and give him a blowjob until he "made jizz.” Karen wouldn’t let him jizz in her mouth because she thought jizz was gross, nor, he complained bitterly, would she let him fuck her because she was afraid of getting pregnant. Bernie and I would get hard in our pants, but that was the extent of any action until one day after school.
Bernie had to take a family trip to Western Massachusetts to visit his aunt. So I went to Aaron's basement alone that day.
He was doing the usual, listening to rock songs on his transistor radio on WMEX, one of Boston's three rock stations. He was deep into a Lucky Strike, his favorite brand. His legs were stretched out, accentuating their length and how well his tight jeans fit. He was wearing his white Marlon Brando T-shirt -- this was the ‘60s before colored T's came out. He was about 5-11, slim-hipped with black hair accentuated by an Elvis Presley DA (duck's ass) in the back. His clear blue eyes sparkled against his white complexion. He looked like Anthony Perkins in Psycho without the pathology.
Without Bernie I had more of a chance to admire Aaron's
physicality without betraying my burgeoning interest in men. I loved the way his jeans hugged his hips and curved promisingly at the crotch. His T-shirt showed off his broad shoulders. Tantalizing sprigs of black hair curled out of his crew neck. His arms were hairy as well. I couldn't take my eyes off his face, with its boy-next-door appeal, full lips, white teeth, dimples and strong black eyebrows. I thought he was a god, but I hadn't connected my lust for him into anything sexual yet. I was 16 and wasn't sure why my dick hardened in his presence.
Aaron looked up and smiled, "Squirt, where's your buddy today?" I explained where Bernie was and Aaron nodded.
"Nice to see you alone for a change. You like listening to my stories, don't you?"
"Yes, I love them."
He became more animated. “Your face lit up when I talked about what Karen and I did at Castle Island.”
"That was amazing, Aaron. I can't believe what you do in the dark with her.”
"Did," he corrected me. Karen's history. I took her there last night and she gave me a lousy blowjob and wouldn't let me fuck her — again. I didn't even shoot jizz, so I dumped her. I need someone who'll give me a lot more than she will, if you know what I mean, and he winked. “You do know what I mean?”
I had no idea what he meant. In truth I was more focused on the fact that I wouldn’t be hearing any more stories about his adventures with Karen at Castle Island.
"You know, Squirt, since she’s no longer in the picture, I need another person to meet my sexual needs.” And he winked again. “I hate jerking myself off, so another person needs to help me out. Are you catching my drift?”
Aaron lay his hand on his crotch, stared into my eyes and fingered the metal tab on his fly.
Unable to look away, I wondered why he kept saying “some other person” to help him out instead of “some other girl.”
"Maybe I shouldn't tell you this,” he said. “I work with a guy at the bowling alley — name is Kenny. I let him blow me right here in this basement. Do you want to hear about it?"
“Really?” I wanted to hear about it more than I wanted to breathe.
"Kenny was always checking out my bulge -- sort of like you’re doing right now. I asked him one night after work if he wanted to come down here for a beer. So I took four cans from my dad's stash and met him here.
"He got a little drunk and his eyes were glued to my crotch. You know what that means.
I finally figured out what he was getting at.
“Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I said, ‘Kenny, do you want to suck my dick?’ He didn’t answer; neither did he stop checking out my crotch.”
"Did Kenny do it?" I stammered, finding this much more exiting than the stories about Karen.
"Waddya think, Squirt?" He was hot for my dick. Ya know, you can tell by a way a guy looks at your package if he wants to suck your cock.”
"More, Aaron. Hard to believe a guy would do that."
"I traced my finger on Kenny’s lips, then pushed it into his mouth. He started sucking my finger. I told him to get on his knees.
Obviously, he had never done this before, but he unzipped me and fished out my cock. He wanted me to tell him what to do. I told him to wrap his lips around it and suck it. I guess he loved it. He keeps asking me when he can come back. But that’s enough of that story.
"You know, Squirt, I love enticing a newbie who never sucked a dick before to try mine. Initiating him into cocksucking really turns me on. I’m thinking you’ve never sucked a dick before and you always stare at my crotch, so I’ll ask you: Do you want to suck my dick?"
Based on the Kenny story, I knew that was coming, but wasn’t sure if I was ready to try it. At the same time, I was desperate to see his dick.
Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. “Get on your knees, Squirt, and touch my crotch. Now pull my zipper down. Here’s your chance to see my cock. It isn’t small.”
My hands trembled, but how could I resist?
My fingers poked inside his fly and felt his cotton underwear.
“Rub my cock through my Jockey shorts,” he ordered.
I felt as if I was in a haze and moving robotically. His penis was long, hard and warm. I pulled the elastic band of his Jockeys down, but was having trouble getting his dick out.
“Squirt, let’s make things easier. Unbutton my jeans and briefs and pull them down. I loved Aaron telling me what to do.
His dick popped out into my face. As he had said, it wasn’t small. Aaron had a full bush of black hair surrounding his penis. He was not circumcised.
"Go ahead, touch my foreskin. It likes attention. Now, get yourself closer and pull the skin back.”
I moved closer on the cement floor.
I’m going to teach you how to work my dick better than Karen ever did. You have nicer lips anyway.”
The reference to my lips confirmed that Aaron wanted more than my fingers on his dick. I blurted out that I didn't know how to do what he wanted. “Does a blow job mean that I’m supposed to blow on your dick?”
Aaron laughed at my naïveté. “It’s just an expression. You don’t blow on a dick. You lick it, wrap your lips around it, then suck it.”
He pushed the back of my head toward his body and nodded for me to go ahead. After pulling back his foreskin, I tenuously laid my tongue on the head and licked it. It had a flavor I had never tasted before.
Aaron beckoned me to put my whole mouth on his cock as he moved his pelvis back and forth. His foreskin was like velvet. It tasted a little salty and something I couldn’t place. The scent reminded me a little of the provolone that hung at the Italian grocery store where I worked.
I had no idea what precum was, but I could feel something seeping into my mouth. At first I thought it was his pee, but Aaron saw the frightened look on my face and said, "That's not what you think. It's just my jizz seeping out.”
He began to coach me. “Cover your teeth with your lips and go slowly. For now, just suck the head until you’re ready for more. It already feels really good, Squirt. Let’s get more
inside.”
He pushed my head down a few inches and I started to gag, so he retreated. "That's OK, you're still learning. Someday you’ll be able to take the whole thing. But today I want you to get used to part of my cock in your mouth until I’m ready to give you a surprise.”
Karen had refused to let him shoot in her mouth. It seemed that he was planning to shoot in mine. That must have been the surprise he was going to give me.
However, I wasn’t sure I wanted him sperming in my mouth. Yet I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like.
Suddenly, Aaron pulled his dick out and ordered me to lie face up on the cement floor. He pulled off his sneakers and tore off his jeans and Jockeys. What was he going to do now?
I lay supine as he swung one leg around my shoulders as if he were mounting his motorcycle. His balls landed on my face and I could smell the strong scent of sweat as he lowered them onto my lips. “Clean my balls with your spit,” he said.
His naked lower body had pinned me down with his ass sitting on my neck and shoulders and his balls on my lips. I tried to make as much spit as possible and lathered his sack.
While I was concentrating on his nuts, Aaron pushed his foreskin up to my nostrils, pulled back the skin, and ordered me to smell. He slid it back and forth. His scent was making me horny.
Aaron replaced his balls in my mouth with his dick. He mentioned that his dick was "ripe," but not to worry about it. I had no idea what ripe meant in the context of a dick, but he explained that uncircumcised dicks retain a guy's flavors and that I was to clean him up with my mouth.
Slowly at first, he slid his cock in and out of my mouth, but only part of it, and told me to lie still. After several minutes, he went faster. After a couple of more minutes, he began to make loud noises, sort of like a cat purring loudly. My mouth felt several spurts and filled with a syrupy liquid.
Aaron told me that he had "jizzed" and to swallow it. “I’m proud of you, Squirt. You just gave your first blowjob.”
His load tasted sweet and slightly salty. I was so thrilled that I didn't brush my teeth until the next day, even though his flavor disappeared in an hour. I felt like the luckiest guy in the neighborhood.
We repeated this scene many times over the summer, sometimes with him standing and me kneeling; sometimes with him sitting and me leaning onto him; sometimes, he made me unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and briefs with my teeth with my hands tied behind my back. And sometimes, he didn't fuck my mouth at all, just lay back with his hands behind his head while I did all the work.
As the weeks passed, I got better at sucking him off.
(to be continued)
