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After the Rehearsal

Posted by: Author: Age: Twenties (then) Posted on: 0 comments
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Never expected this to happen when it did


Wind the clock forward a few years from my adolescent years. As I said in 'On the Train (Again)' the teenage mutual wanking, which was so exciting at the time, ran its course, and for a long time afterwards I had no sexual contact with other guys. Solo masturbation was of course another matter, not many of us can live without it, can we? whatever age we are. (Good job they invented tissues!)

In my twenties, after numerous frustrating attempts, I finally lost my virginity and experienced the delights of full-blown sex with a number of attractive girls. I adored those experiences you just can't have with a guy. Like placing your cock between a woman's breasts but that's a story for another time, and as regards some activities, another site. The fun I'd had with other boys in my teenage years rather faded into history and I thought same-sex experiences were a thing of the past. Until one evening ...

I lived then in South-East London and was a member of a light operatic group that put on performances of Rogers and Hammerstein, Ivor Novello, and the like, hugely enjoyable. After our rehearsals there was a pub we all went to for a couple of pints and some conversation before going home. One evening I found myself in the company of a chap called Johnny, tall, dark brown close cropped hair, charming smile, a few years younger than me. Other friends drifted off home and we ended up just the two of us, chatting about the production and mutual friends, and almost inevitably, as any two young men, we turned to girls and sex. The conversation got quite intense and I started feeling horny. I sensed he was too. 'I'm really in need tonight', I blurted out. Something about the way he looked at me encouraged me, and I admitted to him, 'I'm getting urges, and they're directed at... you!'. Then I felt hugely embarrassed. I expected a rebuff. But instead, he replied: 'I feel the same way'.

I offered him a lift home. On the way we said very little. I wanted to check out whether he really did 'feel the same way'. We stopped the car in a quiet dimly-lit area near his home, and picked up the conversation about our feelings. I was beginning to lose control.

Tentatively, I ran my fingers from his knee up his thigh and down again. He spread his legs just a little wider, as if to encourage me. Eventually, I got bold enough to reach for his crotch. Sure enough, I found the evidence of his arousal. Through the cloth I felt the contours of his swollen penis, fully stiff, and responding to my touch with a little pulse. He grinned. He didn't feel mine, but he must have sensed my excitement. My cock was straining against my trousers, and I could feel my underwear getting wet. If he had touched me at that point, I think I would have come in my pants. For a while we both said nothing. We were both waiting for each other to make the next move. Eventually he said, quite casually, 'Why don't we go back to your place for a cup of coffee?'. 'Aren't your folks waiting for you?' I asked, hesitantly. 'They're not bothered', he said, 'I'd like to carry on the conversation somewhere more comfortable'. So back we drove to my terraced house. We both knew that at that late hour, once we got back to my home, there was very little chance that we'd make the journey back to his again that night. The sense of anticipation was palpable.

We had coffee, listened to some music, made small talk, sat close together on the sofa. We both knew what we each so badly wanted. I made the first move, reaching for his hard-on through the trousers. He readily co-operated, helping me unbuckle his belt and unzip the fly. Soon I had my first sight of an adult fully erect penis. It looked fantastic, long and very, very hard. I had mental images of how he would use it to pleasure a girl. It felt beautiful in my hand. I was more focussed on him than on myself, but of course I opened up as well, and we sat for a few moments just staring at each other's aching cocks.

Eventually, he suggested that we go upstairs. We undressed each other slowly and lay down on the bed. Impulsively, I kissed him on the lips. But somewhat to my disappointment, he said this was something he really didn't like from another guy. So I gave up on that, and instead ...

I slid my hand down the underside of his shaft, gently fondled his balls, then moved behind them, to that lovely super-sensitive spot which gives us such pleasure, gently massaging, and playing with his curly hairs.

Then I slowly caressed the small of his back and moved my hands down to his backside. I love feeling the contours of another guy's bum. I gently stroked his cheeks, enjoying the feel of the firm tense muscles, the fine down, the sweat in the crack. Then I dug my fingertips into the flesh and gently pulled him towards me, so his throbbing penis was in line with my face. He uttered no words, but his eyes said 'please ...'. I cannot describe on this site how I responded.

Let us just say, very shortly afterwards he cried out 'I'm cumming !', his penis pulsed several times, and his load shot out vigorously in a series of jets. He fell back, emotionally and physically exhausted. Usually in these stories your partner then takes his turn, but it didn't quite work that way with us. Sure, he did play with my cock and balls for a bit, but he seemed spent. He lay with his back to me and seemed like he wanted to sleep.

This was a totally new experience for me, having another guy in bed with me for the night. I did what came naturally, got into a 'spoons' position, put my arms around him, kissed his neck, and nestled my hard-on against his bum. The feeling of closeness was gorgeous. I didn't sleep too well, there was too much going on in my mind. At some stage during the night, I had to relieve myself, but I came quietly and Johnny slumbered on.

The next morning I had to get up really early to catch my train into London to work. So it was rush, rush, rush! No time for leisurely reflection or any more intimacy. Johnny and I did see a lot more of each other that year, but that's material for another story. I'm married now and haven't seen him in ages.

I found the experience of that night awesome but a little disturbing. I'd been convinced I was at least 90% hetero, and that my experiences with other boys had been just teenage experimentation. But now as an adult, I'd had a guy in my bed for the night, and enjoyed it. Where was this leading? Has anyone reading this been there too?

I get a real kick out of contributing to this site and enjoy exchanging comments. So I'd welcome any feedback.



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