This story is true and happened in the very early 1980's.
Growing up in rural, central New England there was no shortage of exciting activities for young boys who enjoyed being outdoors. Of course, one of our favorite pastimes was hiking into the woods with a few friends and a stolen erotic magazine, raging hormones and every intention of masturbating together and experimenting with oral sex. Next to sylvan sex play with the neighbor boys, the activity I enjoyed most was cycling.
I really began to bicycle in earnest the summer after I turned 12. By this time I was quite a bit ahead of most of my friends in my puberty (I was already ejaculating)and had begun to develop interest in improving my body. I had always been rather pudgy as a child and detested most team sports, so I decided that cycling in the summer and autumn would help me to tone up my body and self esteem while allowing me to be alone with my thoughts--far away from the taunting and jeering of the athletic types who reveled in baseball and soccer and with whom I never seemed to get along. Because I was always an excellent ice skater, I further resolved to continue my exercise in winter by joining the neighborhood boys in our region's winter obsession--hockey.
With my self-improvement plan in place, I began to take two long rides each day through the narrow, hilly, winding and maple-covered byways which spread out like tentacles from our town's Great Road. (That's the New England equivalent of Middle-America's 'Main Street' or Britian's 'High Street'). Almost immediately I discovered that excercise made me very, very horny. So, towards the end of my ride I would park my bicycle on the sandy shoulder of some secluded road, gingerly make my way over one of the crumbling, poison ivy covered stone walls which lined most of our back roads and head into the woods for a quick but intense orgasm. Using this as my 'cool-down' period, I would then pedal home at a leisurely pace to go off to outdoor chores or play.
One day, towards the end of my morning tour, I found myself nearing my house and thinking about having my wank at home instead of in the woods. Just then, I saw a man in a convertable sports car approaching from the opposite direction. He slowed as he approached, and as I thought he must have lost his way (the town was so small I actually recognized every automobile in the village and he was obviously 'from away') so I stopped to meet him. 'Do you know how to get to Hawthorne Crescent?' he asked. He was about 35, I'd say, and driving a mid-70's vintage Triumph. He was wearing sunglasses--the kind air force pilots used to wear which were so popular in the '70's and early '80's. 'Of course I do', I answered, 'just drive up about half a mile, bear right at the fork in the road and you'll see it on your right'. He hesitated for a moment, thanked me, then put his car in gear and continued on his way. As he pulled away, I began to pedal casually in the direction of home, and didn't give the stranger another thought.
About five minutes later, I heard the unmistakable hum of that Triumph approaching from behind me. Soon, he was pacing me. I looked over at him. He was smiling. I pulled over to the shoulder and stopped, and he stopped with me. Before I could ask him how he could have possibly missed Hawthorne Crescent, he asked 'How would you like to earn ten Dollars?'. I may have been only 12 years old, but my instinct released a colony of butterflies in my gut. 'What do I have to do?' I queried. 'Let me suck your dick', he stated in a casual, matter-of-fact manner.
All at once I was shocked, appalled, repulsed, aroused. No adult had ever suggested such a thing to me. I was on a public street--secluded, to be sure--but public. There was a silence which seemed like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, during which I became aware that I had a raging erection. 'No', I replied, 'I don't think so. But watch this'. I looked both ways and listened carefully for the sounds of approaching traffic (many rustic boys develop the ability to hear automobile traffic several miles away). Confident in our privacy, I yanked down my athletic shorts and underpants to my knees, spit in my right palm and began to masturbate. Now, I think that my rather advanced state of maturity shocked him a little bit, but nonetheless he looked on in earnest. In about 30 seconds I was ready to climax, and moved closer to the passenger door of his Triumph and shot my load on his car. After I came, he leaned over, gathered some of my spunk from the outside of the door with his index finger, put it to his mouth and licked it off. Before I knew it, he put his car in gear and, tires screaching and dust trailing, sped away. Several seconds later I realized that I was standing on the side of the road with my pants around my knees and my youthful erection still bobbing up and down, leaking the last of my semen onto the road. Heart racing, face flushed, I pulled myself together and raced home--feeling exhilerated, embarrassed, but not ashamed. I never did receive my ten bucks, but I did have a rather unusual experience to masturbate to for many years to come.
Some time later, I realized how smart I had been to decline this man's offer of oral sex. It appears that soon after my encounter with him this man was placed under arrest by the local constabulary, accused of having temporarily abducted and molesting a young girl in our town. While I have never felt shame about what I had done, I never told anyone about this encounter and even today I feel both fear and arousal when I think about it, but never guilt--it was one of the best orgasms I ever had.
As for my sexual exploits during Hockey season--that is another story altogether......................
(Please note that this submission is not intended to endorse statuatory rape or child molestation)