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The Sleepover

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Everything is completely true, and how I remembered it.


I was twelve that summer, entering puberty, and my best friend John was thirteen. We lived in the same neighborhood, and did all the usual neighborhood stuff kids do with the neighborhood gang - play baseball, basketball, football, swimming, etc.
One particularly hot, humid July early evening, I was spending the night at John's house. It would be our first sleepover together. It was probably around seven p.m., the sky was growing dark while John and I threw a football around in his front yard. His dad was out of town, and his mom was out and wouldn't be home until later that night. It was him and me, on our own.
We were dirty and sweaty and when it grew too dark to throw the football, we went inside. We opened his fridge and had a couple of cold cokes. It was John who suggested we should take showers.
'Okay,' I said. 'Wanna go first?'
'Naw,' he said. 'We can take one together.'
That one single statement sent a strange chill up and down my spine, and even at age twelve, I felt a hint of eroticism deep inside my adolescent loins.
John was cute, slender, tanned nicely from the summer sun, with black hair and a killer smile. I was cute too, but with a lighter complexion and reddish hair, slender like him. Little did I realize that that night would charge, and change, my sexual life forever.
We went into the bathroom and closed the door. Without saying a word, we both stripped naked and stepped into the shower. As John turned the water on, I couldn't help but stare, with an odd sense of desire, at his naked body: his perfectly-sculpted young teen body, his slender tummy, smooth, sun-browned chest and back and shoulders and legs, and the small black tuft of pubic hair that sat above his perfect, circumcised penis. I was definitely feeling a stir deep inside myself.
I stood behind him as the shower spray ran over us both. We passed the bar of soap back and forth, getting ourselves all sudsy. I was behind him, and he couldn't see my erection developing.
'Wash my back,' he said, directly, almost like a command. I shuddered a little inside, and then ran the bar of soap over his back, from his tanline just above his round, perfect butt to his shoulders, getting his back all soapy.
Then he turned to face me, and as he said, 'Okay, turn around and I'll wash your back,' I couldn't help but look down at his penis, wet and glistening in the bathroom light. It was hard, pointing out and up. When he saw my own circumcised penis in the same condition, he smiled.
'Looks like we're both a little horny,' he said, kind of softly.
'Yeah,' was all I could mutter. He took hold of my shoulders and turned me around, and the feel of his hands sliding soapily over my back felt wonderful. But what felt even better was when he stepped closer and I felt the length of his erection press along the line of my ass crack.
He moved it up and down for maybe ten seconds, his hands now sliding wetly over my tummy, but it seemed like he was moving it against me forever.
Then he stopped suddenly and said, 'Okay, let's dry off and go to my room.'
A bit awkwardly, we toweled ourselves dry and wrapped the towels around our waists, and went to John's bedroom. It was dark outside by then, and his window was open, and a warm, soft breeze came over us as, without saying a word, we dropped our towels to the floor and climbed into his bed, sliding under the clean-smelling, freshly-washed sheet.
We both laid on our backs, naked and hard under the sheet. It was an amazing feeling to be so close to John like that. I felt our bare hips and hairless legs touching, and my erection grew harder. The only light in the room was from the moonlight outside, yet we could make out one-another just enough. Erotic was yet a word in our vocabulary, but erotic is how the atmosphere was in his room at that moment.
John pulled the sheet down to below our waists, revealing our chests and stomachs. It was clear he had a plan of some sort. I just laid there, feeling dizzy and different and wonderfully new. Then the soft touch of his hand began to caress, gently, my smooth chest. His fingers moved over my nipples a few times. Then his hand went lower, his fingers sliding lightly over my flat tummy, heaving a bit now, as I breathed harder, loving how it all felt.
Then his fingers were in my pubic hair, and my erection was laying against the back of his hand. It wasn't long until his hand ran slowly over my hardness, and then wrapped gently around my young shaft. As he began to stroke it ever so easily, my hand automatically reached for his bare chest, and I repeated what he had done on my body, until my hand was around his penis, and silently we laid there on our backs, slowly stroking one-another.
Our naked shoulders were touching, our faces just inches from each other. Simultaneously we turned toward each other, and pressed our lips together. I don't know about John, but it was my first kiss ever, and when our mouths opened and our damp tongues slid together, our stroking quickened, and I honestly can't remember who came first, but when it was all over, we had both come all over each others' hands and over our own tummies. Then we pulled up the sheet and fell asleep, both left to our own sweet, sweet dreams.
A week later, John and his family moved away, far across the country, and I never saw nor spoke to him again. I missed him badly at first, and have thought about him a lot over the years. I came to realize that I actually loved him that night. He was my first sexual encounter, my first emotion of love I ever felt. I hope he thinks of me as often, and in the same way.
As I grew into my teens, and into my twenties, I had sex with a few girls, but never another guy. I got married at twenty-two and had a couple of kids. The female sex I had was always great, but I never forgot how it was just that much better with John that summer night, how his young teenage erection felt in my hand, how his kiss melted me.
At a point in my life, I realized I had to experience a male again, and, thanks to the Internet, and chat rooms, found a nineteen year old boy who wanted to experience his own first male to male encounter. We met three different times, and had some amazing sex, complete with deep and sensual kissing. I was old enough to be his father, and felt so very fortunate that he wanted to be with me. When Gary moved away (my luck again!), I missed him like I had missed John, but never regretted being with him.
Thanks for giving me this vehicle to finally tell my story in written words. In fact, it's the first time I ever related any of this to anyone, ever. It feels good to express it. And I hope others out there with the same inner desires can somehow have the beautiful experiences I've had.
Thanks again.



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