DOOLEY DAYS

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted 2016 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted.

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After reading stories on your site for several years, I finally read the preamble to the main index page and what it said about the early homosexual experiences of many men, men who put it behind them as they matured and lived their lives as heterosexuals. It hit very close to home, as it nearly perfectly described me. I've been married twice and have grown children and stepchildren, as well a slew of grandkids.� Despite my early relationship with a neighbor and older gentlemen. I've led my life as a straight heterosexual.� That is until recently.

I took a solo trip down to Key West to get in some deep water fishing, while my wife went to visit her daughter and her family.� I made contact with a fishing captain who suggested that I team up and split the cost with another older gentleman.� Tim and I hit it off big time, not only out on the Gulf Stream, but back at his hotel where we had sex daily for the week or so that we were deep sea fishing.� It was great.� I'd forgotten how much fun another guy could be. �But, I digress...� This is about me, as a boy...

I grew up living next door to the Donan's.� They were older than my parents, but they were also best of friends with my mom and dad.� Mr. Donan, who I affectionately called Dooley, was in the same business as my dad, property management.� But whereas my dad's company managed residential properties such as apartment complexes, Dooley's company managed commercial properties, a few of which were his own.�

Nearly every Friday evening, the Donans and my folks got together for cocktails and cards. While they played cards, I was looked after by the Donan's youngest daughter, Carla, until she went off to college.� Carla, who was a Red Cross certified instructor, had also taught me how to swim in their backyard pool.� I adored Carla, but that's not what this is about.� I was probably about eight years old when Carla went off to school.

Dad and Dooley were both members at a country club and played golf together every other Saturday, as well as sometimes during the work week.� Mr. Donan, who was more like family than just the next door neighbor, let me hang out with him and swim in his pool whenever I wanted.� All I had to do was telephone first.� If he was home and would be staying home, I was good to go.

A year or so after Carla went off to college, Mr. Donan sold his management business to my Dad and semi-retired.� Shortly thereafter, Mrs. Donan died in an automobile accident. Everyone was very upset about that, including me; she was like a third grandmother to me.

That next summer, my dad went to a convention and took my mom with him.� I was ten years old then, and rather large for my age, not fat, just a big kid. Mom had arranged for her mother to come stay with me while they were gone, and then stay with us for a few weeks after they returned.� However, just days before they were to leave, my grandmother had to cancel as she had gotten very sick, not sick enough to be hospitalized, but too sick to travel and too sick to watch after the likes of me.

Dooley came to the rescue, volunteering to watch after me, as he wasn't working (or at least not at a nine-to-five job).� The morning they left for the airport, my mom packed me a bag for the four days they would be gone, gave me a box of my favorite cereal for breakfast, kissed me goodbye and sent me next door.�

It was only after my folks had left for the airport that I discovered that my mom had forgotten to pack my swimsuit. Being a kid, I naturally got rather upset that I wouldn't be able to go swimming because I didn't have a bathing suit.�

Dooley told me, �Now, quit the damned whining.� It's not all that bad.� Hell, you don't need a bathing suit to go swimming, at least not here.� Look, it's just you and me here, so if you want, you can just swim without it.�� I wasn't sure what he meant, thinking that I would just wear my shorts or something.� That's not what he meant.

"Hell, boy, just go in the pool naked."�

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but Dooley assured me that he didn't care one wit if I swam in his pool bare butt naked.� To show me that he was serious and not just trying to pull one over me, he added, �To show you it's not a big deal, I'll swim naked too,� and stripped.� I was some surprised by these turn of events, but I soon got over whatever inhibitions I may have harbored.�

Skinny dipping with Dooley was the most fun I'd ever had!� He played games with me like he always did, but being naked made it all the more fun. We were in and out of the pool all day and soon I was as comfortable being nude with him as he was comfortable being nude with me.� We never bothered to get dressed again.

In the afternoon, Dooley said we both needed to rest for while and that he needed to take a nap.� So, he went into his bedroom and sprawled out naked on his bed.� Not having anything else to do, I joined him.� Within minutes he was out, snoring away.

Thinking back, I'm certain that what happened next would have never happened had Mom packed my swim suit, but... it did.

I wasn't sleepy, but I was curious.� Dooley was one of those men blessed� with a rather large cock and it had been in plain view and an object of my curiosity all day. I'd seen my dad's cock a time or two and it wasn't nearly as long or as thick as Dooley's. I was fascinated by Dooley's big dick.� As he slept, I studied it and the accompanying large set of testicles.� Eventually I touched it.� Soft, it felt so different than my own little pecker. My touches became bolder and it began to harden in my hand until he was fully erect.

�That feels really nice,� he said in a soft voice.�

Busted!� I yanked my hand away like I'd been scalded.� Fearing I was in big trouble, I looked up at him.� He had one eye open looking at me.

�It's okay,� he said. �You can touch it if you want.� You're not hurting anything.�

When I didn't touch him again, he reached down, took my hand and placed it on his cock.� It was apparent to me that he wasn't angry or anything and that I had his permission to explore, and explore I did.�

He began seeping pre-cum which I found to be quite slippery and kind of gooey.� I didn't know what it was, but the more I played in it, the more he seeped.� I asked him about it and in a rather matter of fact manner, he told me what it was; that it was a lubricant so that a man's cock could more easily penetrate a woman.� Of course I had questions and straight forwardly, he answered them as I continued playing with his dick. Now, I'd heard the word �fuck� at school, but other than it being a dirty word, I didn't understand what it meant until he told me in graphic terms.� He explained the sex act in sufficient detail and how a man's sperm fertilize a woman's egg to make a baby inside the woman.�

�Want to see what sperm looks like?� he asked me.

Of course I did!� Taking my hand he showed me how to masturbate him.� Boy, was I surprised when after a few minutes he shot his white goo all over the place!�

I'd never seen cum before, so I studied it. It didn't look like anything that ever came out my little dick, that's for sure.� A minute or so after it was over,� he explained that I wasn't old enough to produce sperm yet, but that I probably could have an orgasm.� He asked me if I ever rubbed myself like I'd just rubbed him, and if I had had a really intense funny feeling.� I told him that I didn't know what he was talking about, which was the truth. Dooley volunteered to show me, but not before he sent me to his bathroom for a towel to clean up with.

After wiping himself clean, he had me lie on my back. I jumped when he took my little dick between his big fingers. No one had ever touched me like that.� Gently he stroked me to my first ever orgasm.� As I climaxed, I thought I was going to die or something, but of course I didn't.� I didn't die, but like smoking crack cocaine, I was instantly addicted to beating off.� From that day until I got married, I think I masturbated at least once every day, sometimes more.

I abused myself mightily over the next few days. Dooley didn't care if I beat off, or how often I beat off or where I beat off.�� Before my folks returned from their trip, he also masturbated me several times and I in turn masturbated him several times. One of his favorites was he'd have me stand on a stool facing away from him. After slathering my ass crack with KY Jelly, he'd snuggle up from behind, reach around me and take me in his slippery hand while sliding his dick along my greased butt crack until he shot off onto my back.� Being a kid, I thought all this was great fun and had no idea that he'd crossed a line.

Except for going out for a pizza or for a hamburger, we stayed nude together the entire time my folks were at the convention. We mostly swam, but we also messed around a lot.� He never forced me to do anything and never suggested that I do anything, but somewhere along the line, just before my parents returned, I got the idea to put his cock in my mouth.� I liked that and so did he.�

He also had me rub his back.� Naturally I rubbed his bare butt too and felt around in his ass crack.� He in turn rubbed my back and my butt, and played with my asshole, penetrating me with his fingers.�

He cautioned me not to say anything to my parents about our nude games, but once my folks were home, he told them about the missing swimsuit and his solution.� Mom was upset, not at Dooley, but at herself for not packing my swimsuit.� My dad thought it was no big deal and that settled the matter.� Dooley had effectively made the issue moot and nothing more was ever said or asked about the nudity.��

Everything was as normal as it could be after my parents returned home from that convention.� My folks and Dooley still got together on Friday evenings, had cocktails and played cards.� He and Dad still played golf together.� Me, I was allowed to hang out with Dooley whenever I wanted and go swimming. Mom always told me to wear my swim suit, but it was an open secret that I never did, unless someone else was there, like my folks or Carla.� If my parents suspected that more than just skinny dipping was taking place when I was with Dooley, they never let on.

Dooley liked to spread his work papers out on the patio table and work on them in the buff while I swam.� In fact he spent most of his time at home naked, a fact that I became well aware of.� But, whenever my dad or someone would come by the house, he had a pair of swim trunks or shorts handy to slip on.�

I say the skinny dipping was an open secret because my dad knew about.� He knew about it and said nothing to me, my mom or to Dooley about it.� He'd drop in to see Dooley about something in the late afternoon when I was swimming.� Of course Dooley slipped on some shorts to answer the door, but I was au naturel, in and out of the water and jumping off the diving board.� He and Dooley would sit around talking, discussing business or golf, maybe having a beer and then Dad would tell me to put my clothes on and come home for supper.� That happened more than a few times.

Dad asked me once if Dooley ever touched me when I was over swimming.� I played dumb and asked him what he meant.� He told me, I lied and I told him no.� That was that and he never asked me again.

Dooley's euphemism for wanting sex with me was, �Let's go take a nap,� or "Let's go lie down for a while." I "napped" with him often over the next several years, both after school or on weekends. When my folks had a party to go to, Dooley was the go-to guy.� When they went out of town for a long weekend, Dooley looked after me.

It wasn't until I was about eleven years old that he first stuck that big dick of his up my butt. I was face down in his bed with a pillow under my hips.� Dooley was sliding his dick along my KY lubricated crack.� He stopped and pried my cheeks apart.� I felt him pressing into me until my asshole gave way. It hurt like the dickens that first penetration.�

Thinking back, it's a wonder he didn't do it earlier, as I trusted him completely and would let him do whatever he wanted with me.� I never objected nor did I ever tell him no.

He didn't just fuck me that first time, but just penetrated me just enough to envelop the head of his cock.� He kept it there for a while asking me if I was okay, pulled it out and pushed the head back in, hold it for a while, pulled out and pushed back in.� Eventually he didn't pull out, but pressed into me deeper, a little at a time.� Other than the initial stretching of my anal muscle, getting fucked in the ass didn't particularly hurt, either that or I just don't remember it hurting. I got ass fucked a lot after that.

The man-boy sex games continued until he was struck with cancer.� We didn't play after he started chemo and he didn't live very long either. I was twelve, almost thirteen, when he passed away, and I keenly felt his loss. It was like losing a grandparent or a best friend, and I suppose that's how I thought of him.� Up until recently, he's the only man or boy I ever had sex with, or wanted to have sex with.� No doubt he took advantage of me, but it was just good old fashioned nasty fun to me.� He never hurt me nor belittled me in any way. I was willing and he was happy to have fun with me.� I still think fondly of him and those bygone halcyon days.