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In Exchange

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This will be the first of, hopefully, a successful series of partially embellished true experiences. As far as I can remember I had always wanted to be an exchange student. The closest I came to that was when a French boy came to stay with us for a few months during which my budding sexuality found a very welcome outlet!


Julian was 17 and was everything that I wasn't. He was taller than me, stronger than me, fairer than me, and got to travel around the world, which was something that I have always wanted to do. Now I have this attraction for fair skinned boys. And J was the whitest white boy that you had ever seen. He wasn't pasty white either but his skin exuded a creamy, pearly iridescence and was smooth and supple over his finely toned muscles. He was about 180cm tall whereas I was only 179 when we first met. His knees stuck out a cm further when we sat next to each other, his fingers easily enclosed mine when we were palm to palm. He wore size 44 shoes and myself 43. And his awesomely shaped cock was 21 cm to my 20. Its taut purple veins running along his uncut penis. And adorned by very large low hanging nuts. But more on that later in the story.

For myself, aside from being one cm shorter than J in every way, I have been described to be lithe and agile. I was fair skinned too but tended to tan quite quickly. My dark mop of wavy hair blended with my brooding hazel eyes. J had greenish amber eyes which entranced anyone that he spoke with. I was rather athletic although didn't make it to any of the school teams. At 16, I was always horny and because I had limited access to girls, my tolerance for sexual connections extended to certain boys.

Julian was a dream. He moved in a very sensual way, not feminine and certainly not with brute arrogance; but almost like a slow motion scene in the movies. When he walked into a room, everyone stopped and looked at him. He never seemed to be aware of his effect on people and just went about his business while the world seemed to stand still.

The first time we ever met was at the airport. My first thought of him was that he would do well as a runway model. I did not want to appear to eager to meet him so I held back while the others welcomed him. When he looked my way and offered his hand I took it without hesitation and the shock of our skin touching just confirmed to me that I wanted all of this guy. I wondered what his cock would feel like in my hands. His package looked substantial in his skinny leg jeans. And I was feeling a stirring in my loins and forgot that I still held his hand in mine. He didn't pull away but I started to feel heat rising from my nape to my ears, slightly embarrassed to have kept the handshake longer than normal.

In the car on the way home I kept glancing over to his groin area, now a bit more prominent because of everything being bunched up while he sat admiring the view outside as we drove past. He was friendly enough, I thought. I had to hatch a plan to get him and myself close enough and alone to mess around with each other. I was lucky to have had some of his stuff on my lap which conveniently covered my now fully enraged boner.

That night in bed all I could think of was his smooth skin and his well toned body. I was touching myself with deliberate slowness and savoring the feel of my hands on my crotch, imagining it was him massaging me. I don't usually enjoy slow wanks but this was too much of a thrill and the potential of him wanting to do things with me only excited me more. There was only a wall dividing our bedrooms and I wondered if he was touching himself as well. I shot my load and spread it over my chest and belly, sleeping in the nude, and letting the night breeze dry my cum, waiting for dreams of a naked Julian to fill my sleep.


There is more to this story, and I will share them in segments if there is enough interest among readers. The second part would be about our first mutual masturbation and how that led to other wonderful times spent jacking off together.



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