The Summer of 1981

Although I'm now 51 years old and happily married with 7 years into my second marriage, the summer of 1981 was a lot different. This is a totally true story. I was 17 at the time and I'd not had full sex with anyone, just groping, fingering with various girlfriends, the odd handjob when both were drunk, but then when we were both sober next day pretending nothing had happened. Then, in May 1981, I kept seeing this lad who was roughly the same age as me, usually as I walked home from work during the dinner break, while he was messing around on a rope swing on the tree near the start of the footpath or just generally dossing around with his mates. A couple of weeks later, I noticed he was in the bus queue in the city centre and we got chatting, mainly due to the bus, which was the last one, being very late. His name was Steve, also 17, and it turned out he lived close to me, on the council estate and we were both into the same music. We decided to get a taxi home and share the fare but just as we were going for a taxi, the bus turned up. We chatted on the bus and I mentioned I had some tapes of a band he liked and he could have them so he came back to my house (my mum's) and I gave him them and he walked home (his mum and dad's) on his own. A couple of days later, he called round to see if I wanted to hang out on the park, get some cider, some cigs. We became the best of friends after that and did everything together, went to see bands, picked up, or tried to pick up, girls, usual stuff teen lads do. One day he told me his mum and dad were moving home but just to a larger house on the same estate. I helped him move and the house which his family had moved from was now empty. A couple of days later, we went out drinking, locally this time and we got drunk. He said his mum would be angry if he went home like that and I know mine wouldn't be pleased either so he said why not sleep at the old house as he still had his set of keys? I agreed and we went back there. Luckily, the bedrooms were still carpeted and it was a warm night and we both crashed out quickly. I woke a little cold and I heard a familiar sound just as it was getting light. Could I be sure? It was, Steve was having a sly wank, or was it sly? He was laid on the floor with his back to me and his jacket over him. My cock instantly stiffened and I couldn't help it and I got my cock out and started to stroke it but only slowly and quietly hoping he wouldn't hear. Not quiet enough, he turned to face me and smiled and said, "You as well?" I said nothing, just quickened the speed and he continued while staring at my cock and I stared at his. I'd never have believed this happening at all, I'd never in a million years believed I'd be laid on the floor of an empty house wanking away while staring at my best friend doing exactly the same thing. I was dying to get up and go over and feel his cock but something told me I shouldn't. Then I came, three spurts of cum went across the old carpet as he kept pumping away and then he came a couple of minutes later as I stared intently, waiting for him to cum. I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes. Usually, any thoughts about any form of sex would have left my head now I had cum but all I could think about was his cock and what I would like to do to it. Over the next couple of weeks, it got to where one of us would announce that he felt like a wank and if there were just the two of us, we'd just get our cocks out and start wanking away. On other occasions we'd whisper to each other what we were going to do and just go to the toilet in whoever's house we were in, sometimes in mine, sometimes in his, his grandma's, my aunt's, anywhere. Still no physical contact at all though. Then came the day of a concert in Leeds where we'd not be able to get the last bus back to Bradford, too expensive for a taxi. We could only get one tent between us so we both decided to use that. It was supposedly 2-man but it was still very small and we left the concert about midnight and decided to pitch up on some spare land near some woods. In the night I woke up with a right boner to the sound of Steve pumping away and decided to join in. Then, it happened, Steve's hand reached over and he put his hand on my cock and said, "You do me and I'll do you." I reached over and put my hand on his cock and started wanking him as he did the same to me. After about two minutes I could feel that I was nearing climax and he must have realised the same as his hand started moving faster and then I came and splattered spunk all over the side of the tent. I continued to wank Steve but he knew I wouldn't be as enthusiastic since I had cum and he moved my hand and continued jerking himself, coming a minute or so later. We drifted off to sleep and awoke shortly after dawn to find Steve's hand around my cock. I reached out for him and took hold of his stiff cock and started wanking again. After about five minutes a thought went into my head and I suddenly sat up to Steve's surprise and he asked me what was wrong. I didn't answer, I just leaned over and took his cock into my mouth. I felt it stiffen even more in my mouth as I sucked and bobbed my head up and down on his pulsating cock while he made little moaning noises. I used my tongue, licking up the side of his shaft, tonguing his cock head, which was much more bulbous than mine, as his groans grew louder and then, like a torrent, a flood of semen gushed into my mouth. I swallowed some but the rest just poured out, all over my shirt and on the tent floor. After that, we groped, wanked, and sucked (in my case) where we could. Only once did I persuade Steve to let me put my cock in his mouth but he pulled his head away after a few seconds and he started to vomit so I never tried that again but I think, all in all that summer, we wanked each other off over thirty times and I sucked him off about a dozen times, always swallowing after the first couple. Thing was, neither of us felt gay, we both still lusted after girls and there was no thoughts of anal sex. Then it all stopped. We both got steady girlfriends on the same night, in the same pub, and we were still mates for quite a while but then Steve got a job out of town, he moved about 15 miles away and we lost touch. Not many people even had phones in their homes in those days and there were no mobile phones or internet of course. I last saw Steve about 1985 but not to talk to, I was on a bus and I saw him walking with a woman of about the same age and he was pushing a toddler in a push chair on the street in Wakefield as I went by. I went on to have kids of my own and always thought I was straight but over the last few years I've started watching gay porn, especially trannies giving straight males bjs and I often wear a pair of silky knickers under my jeans, my wife loves that, she chooses them for me to wear. I'm now into my second marriage but not with any kids this time and a lovely sexy wife in her early 40s who is as kinky as hell, loves sex with me, and for me in all ways, with her sucking me in public places, it's almost perfect, but I will never forget that summer of 1981 and the feel, taste and sensation of a rock hard cock in my mouth, the feel of warm spunk trickling down my throat. I've tried sucking my wife's toes and her strap-on but it just isn't the same.