A Secret Shared

S-- was one of those friends who came out of nowhere; he was not a school chum or the child of family friends, and we barely lived in the same neighborhood. I met him one day at a local park, where I was busy hitting tennis balls against a wall near the courts. S-- rode up on his bicycle and asked if I fancied a game, and, rather than continue to play by myself, as was all too often the case, I agreed. I wasn't much of a tennis player to begin with, so he showed me how to improve my serve, and we spent the rest of the afternoon volleying back and forth. We soon became fast friends. We were both about fourteen. Over the next few months S-- and I were inseparable; we played video games together, rode our bikes, had dinner at each other's houses. Since we went to different schools, we each started introducing the other to our respective circles of friends. Of course we talked about girls, feeling our combined way through these new and perplexing intentions towards the opposite sex. Around this same time, naturally, I had discovered masturbation. I remember my first few awkward attempts; I had heard other, older guys joking about something with lube and tissues, and so I tried rubbing lube on a tissue and wrapping it around my dick, to little effect. My first really successful masturbation method was quite unconventional: I found that I loved the feeling of my father's electric razor on the underside of my cock, and so when my parents were out of the house I would take it, turn it on, place a pillow on top of it, and lie on top of the pillow, slowing grinding my dick into it with the vibrations. I had invented a makeshift vibrator! I still remember my surprise at the immense tingling feeling that greeted me one time, as though my penis was going to explode, and the small wet spot on the pillow that greeted me when I was done. I was hooked. I was convinced that what I was doing was must either be unique to me, or something so shameful that it couldn't be shared. I grew up without siblings, so I had no one to tell me that this was perfectly normal, and I'm not sure I would have had the vocabulary to describe what I was doing or why to anyone anyway. I knew that I was masturbating, but I didn't have a social context in which to place it; what could and couldn't be said about it, and to whom. Lying on that vibrating pillow was my own special pleasure, a secret kept just for me. One day, S-- and I were at the local shopping mall, waiting to be picked up by my mother. We got to talking, and I don't remember how we got there but the conversation got dangerously close to the subject of masturbation. As I said, S-- and I were very close at this point; if there was anyone I was going to share this secret with, it would be him. I decided to take the risk, and with a gulp I confessed, "I sometimes use my dad's electric razor to bring myself off, it feels incredible. Do you every do anything like that?"? "Masturbate?"? S-- replied. "Of course I do. Not like that, though? I just use my hand and some lotion. But yeah, all the time, maybe like six times a week."? The enormous weight of my secret was suddenly lifted from my shoulders. I wasn't alone, what I was doing was normal, or at least common, and there was a way to share the knowledge of this pleasure with others. I was so excited; I effusively started asking S-- questions about his technique, the sensations, and what came out at the end. S-- picked up on my excitement and mirrored it back to me; for all of his nonchalance, it was clear this was the first time he had talked about masturbating with a friend as well. Without giving it a second thought, we agreed that we should masturbate together. It didn't occur to us that this might entail some homosexuality that neither of us intended; we were so excited to have shared this secret behaviour, that we wanted to celebrate our pleasure together. The car ride home couldn't go quickly enough. As soon as we got to my house, we jumped on our bikes and rode to S--’s, where we knew the rest of his family would be gone. No sooner had we made it through the door than we headed for the couch, dropped trousers, and started to explore our new found shared interest. S--’s cock was the first besides my own I had ever seen; he was circumcised like me, but his was smaller than mine, with a slight curve upward. The head of his cock had a deep ridge to it. We started stroking, and I'm sure in no time we brought ourselves off together, our loads of cum shooting upward into the air and back down onto our stomachs. As we wiped up with some towels, I was delirious with excitement; my private world of pleasure had another resident, and that afternoon I wanted nothing more than to affirm that, over and over again. In my memory, we masturbated together like that on the couch three times that day; in retrospect, that seems like a lot, even for two teenage boys. But somewhere along the way, after we had just finished a round of jerking off, I suggested, "Hey, next time we can do each other!"? "Good idea!"? S-- concurred. We were going to try stroking each other off. For some reason we decided to do it in his parents sizeable bathtub; maybe we were afraid of the mess we would make. We got completely naked and got into the empty bath. We sat across from one another, Indian style. I reached across and took hold of S--'s cock; with my thumb and forefinger I began to stroke it slowly. S-- wrapped his whole hand around my dick and squeezed considerably. He too started to work his hand up and down along my shaft. We sat there in the bathtub, eyes locked, stroking each other's cocks, unsure of where we were headed or how this would play out. It didn't take long for me. “Oh god, S--, I'm going to cum,” I panted breathlessly, and without much more warning than that I hoisted a warm, sticky gob of white cum directly onto S--'s hand. S-- was surprised and, I think, repulsed. We hadn't really thought about bringing each other off; the plan was just to play with each other's dicks a bit and finish ourselves off. But the feeling of his hand on my cock — my first handjob! — was too much to take and I had broken our agreement. S-- was dismayed, and got out of the bathtub before I could return the favor. I got out too and put my clothes on. I don't remember how we resolved what had just happened, but we did. S-- got over his initial shock and recognized that what we were doing in the tub could only end one way. More than that, he was as excited as I was at the prospect of having a regular jerkoff buddy! And so began our months long experiment with mutual masturbation. We certainly jerked each other off again, and we both got used to the feeling of the other's cum on our hands. Whenever we were alone at one or the other's house, we immediately reach for our cocks, if only to pull off a quick one with a sexy movie or a lingerie catalogue. Eventually, we began experimenting with oral sex as well. I remember taking S--'s cock in my mouth, flicking the deep ridge of the head with my tongue, taking the shaft as far back in my throat as I could. We would get naked and get into a 69 position on his bed, sucking each other's cocks until we were close to orgasm; but then we would always finish ourselves off with our hands. I remember the first time, much to our mutual surprise, that S-- came in my mouth. We were locked in a 69 when, out of nowhere, I felt a jet of warm, salty cum splash the back of my mouth, followed in rapid succession by several smaller bursts. I had no choice but to swallow. I pulled off of S--’s still pulsating cock, wiped my mouth, and exclaimed, "What the hell, S--?! I thought we said no cumming!"? S-- just smiled and shrugged his shoulders with a "aww shucks, what, me?"? look on his face. I made sure he jerked me off to completion that day. We toyed with the idea of anal sex for a while too, but I don't think we knew what we were doing. Those were still the early days of HIV, and we were smart enough to know that we were too young and dumb to understand the disease (and buying condoms would have been too embarrassing), so our attempts were largely unsuccessful. I mostly remember S-- grinding up and down along my butt cheeks, not inserting his penis, just rubbing between the cracks, until he spewed ropes of cum up my back. What I can only call our affair lasted for the better part of a year. As time passed, S-- and I grew apart. We still went to different schools, and became involved in our own social worlds. Eventually, we redirected our sexual energies towards girls, and recognized that what we had been doing could be construed as "gay",? something neither one of us wanted to admit. With our heterosexual awareness came, I think, a sense of shame at what we had done, for all of its innocence and naivety". And so our friendship too withered away. It's a pity, really, but I think what we shared ultimately did us in. But now, more than half a lifetime away, I look back fondly on those exciting, delirious, adventurous moments of blossoming sexuality, and what I wouldn't give for a friend like that today.