Friends Reunited

By 

Matt Corton

(Story Codes, MM, mm, anal, 1st)

“Drink up, I’ll get you another,” I encouraged George. The bar 
was busy, so it was a few minutes before I returned with a 
lager for me and a G and T for my friend.

“Cheers Joe,” he said, tilting his glass towards me. “There’s 
something I want to tell you. Just to, you know, put the record 
straight. I mean – I don’t want any misunderstandings between 
us.”

“OK, what is it?” I asked.

“Well, I think I should tell you that I’m gay.”

Well, to be honest I was quite shocked. Although I hadn’t set 
eyes on George for twenty-something years, I had spent the 
last three hours in his company and it simply hadn’t occurred 
to me. I mean, there was nothing overtly different about him. 
Not that I would have necessarily have known the signs. I 
guess I’ve led a sheltered life – the usual school, university, 
job, marriage, mortgage, kids – and this was the first time I 
have ever become consciously aware that a friend or 
acquaintance was gay.

But I should go back a month or two to explain. I mean, it’s 
simply not normal for me to be sitting in a hotel bar at 
midnight with another man telling me of his sexual orientation. 
I would have given you long odds against it, in fact. So what 
started me on this adventure, I hear you wonder? Well, this 
story has a fairly common beginning in this electronic age, I 
guess. Someone had sent me a web link to the Friends 
Reunited web site – you know, the one where you enter details 
of where and when you went to school, and if anyone 
remembers you they can get in touch by email, or you can 
instigate the communication yourself. Anyway, I registered 
and promptly forgot all about it. 

A couple of weeks later, I received a mail from George 
MacDonald, a fellow class member back in 1978. We had 
never been particularly close.  I was one of the sporty types – 
football team, athletics and so on, and he was one of those 
studious, quiet chaps with whom you could spend years in the 
same classroom without ever really noticing that he was there. 
Nevertheless, we began to exchange emails. It seems that we 
have a lot more in common now, both having developed 
careers in accountancy. And although I was doing very well 
for myself, thank you, George’s career had outstripped mine. 
He was one of these global jet-setters you hear about, advising 
huge corporations on takeovers and mergers.

A month later, George was visiting clients in my home city for 
a couple of nights, and he suggested that we meet up for a meal 
and a drink. I accepted eagerly, relishing the chance to get 
away from the wife and kids for the evening. Not that I don’t 
love them, of course. It’s just that opportunities to get out on 
my own don’t come too often, and it would be fascinating to 
see George again and talk over old times.

That’s how I came to meet him again. He was looking really 
well. In fact he was in excellent shape with the physique of 
someone who trains regularly. I, on the other hand, had 
probably not worn quite so well. I was a good couple of waist 
sizes up from when I was in my twenties. A complete reversal 
from when we were kids in school, where I was the athlete and 
he was, not to put too fine a point on it, a nerd.

We spent a really good evening, starting out at my favourite 
Chinese restaurant then moving from bar to bar, eventually 
returning to the hotel where he was spending the night. And it 
was here that he had just told me that he was gay.

George’s announcement had a strange effect on me. I found 
myself looking at him in a completely different light, 
examining his face and body as if estimating his attractiveness 
to other men. He noticed my perusal.

“Is that a problem at all, Joe?” he asked. “Being gay, I mean.”

“Of course not, mate,” I replied quickly. “I’m just a little 
surprised. You look quite, er, I mean, you appear…”

“Normal?” he suggested helpfully, smiling.

“Yes,” I grinned back. “I mean that I would never have 
known.”

“We don’t all go about in tight leather gear and makeup, you 
know.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m being stupid. Forgive me.”

“Is it a problem?” he asked, “I mean I’d really like to meet up 
with you again when I pass through next time.”

“No, of course it isn’t.” I reassured him. And it wasn’t. “Have 
you always known you were gay?”

“Yes,” he replied unhesitatingly. “Girls have never interest me 
at all. From the age of ten or eleven I knew that I was turned 
on by male bodies. God, school was both heaven and hell. I 
mean, can you imagine the thrills I used to get from being with 
the other boys when we changed for sports and showered 
together and so on? But of course the downside was that I had 
to be very, very careful that the objects of my lusting didn’t 
notice, or they’d have kicked my head in!”

“Christ,” I said. “It must have been hard…”

“Oh it was,” he said. “It was hard most of the time!”

Both of us burst out laughing. “It wasn’t so bad,” he continued. 
“I wasn’t the only one like me in our class. There was Billy 
Smith and Jim Donnelly as well. And I’m fairly sure about Jed 
Kinsey as well, but he would never admit it.”

“My God,” I burst out, “You mean Billy was…? And Jim?” 
This took me by surprise. Billy and I had been very close 
friends, and had stayed over at each other’s houses several 
times, sharing a bedroom on each occasion. I explained this to 
George.

“Well, that just goes to prove that just because we’re gay we’re 
not sex monsters. Billy would have known that you were 
straight and so it wouldn’t have entered into his head to make a 
pass at you.”

Now, you will have guessed that George and I had imbibed a 
few drinks. I guess this was why I found the courage to 
question him in such a personal manner. I can’t imagine me 
doing it otherwise. 

“George, can I ask you question?” 

“Of course Joe,” he replied.

“When we were at school and you, well, looked at the boys 
getting changed and in the shower. Did you ever look at me 
like that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” He laughed. I laughed back, 
amazed at my forwardness in asking the question. And not 
really understanding why I did so.

“Here’s one for you Joe,” he said, leaning forward on his 
barstool so that I could hear his whisper. “Did you ever sneak a 
glance? Can you honestly tell me that you were never 
interested in how the other boys looked? Didn’t you ever get a 
tiny, secret thrill that you were parading around naked in a 
room with other naked boys?”

I must have blushed. Or perhaps some other body language 
gave it away. Otherwise how could he have known? 

“Not exactly,” I replied quietly. “But there was a sort of, well, 
an incident. My first ever, in fact, if you know what I mean.”

“Tell me all about it,” he coaxed.

****

We were in the fourth year of secondary school, so that would 
have made me fourteen or fifteen. I can’t remember if it 
happened before or after my fifteenth birthday in mid 
December. It was definitely winter though, as I recall the 
swimming pool changing rooms being bloody freezing. 
Something had gone wrong with the heating again.

Once a fortnight the school bussed our class to the municipal 
pool for swimming lessons. We really looked forward to it, as 
we got the chance to ogle the girls in their swimwear. The boys 
would make it obvious that they were leering and the girls 
would pretend not to notice. I’ve often thought it strange that 
the female of the species will happily cavort in the skimpiest of 
swimming garments, and yet take such care not to be seen in 
their underwear which is often much less revealing. Not that 
I’m complaining, of course.

We shared our pool time with kids of the same age from 
another school in the town, to make the numbers viable, I 
suppose. This particular afternoon our instructor must have 
blown his whistle to get us out of the water and into the 
changing rooms too late, because most of the cubicles were 
already occupied by boys getting ready for the next lesson. 
Consequently, me and another thirty or so boys were left 
standing shivering in the passages. Our teachers consulted with 
their opposite numbers from the other school and came to a 
decision.

“Listen up,” one of them shouted. ”We’re going to have to 
double up in the changing rooms.” And so they began to herd 
us into the available cubicles. Before I knew it, I was pushed 
inside a vacant partition along with a boy from the other 
school. I pulled the bolt over to lock the door.

He was slightly smaller than me, with less developed muscles. 
He gave me a quick grin and took off his swimming trunks, 
turning around to face me.

I had never been in such close proximity with a naked person 
of either gender. I couldn’t help but look down. He had a thick 
bush of pubic hair – much more fully developed than my own. 
His penis, though, appeared tiny until I realised it had simply 
shrunk from being cold in the water.

I was amazed at his self-confidence, stripping naked so readily 
in front of a total stranger. I was much more shy at that age. I 
wrapped my towel around my middle and pulled my trunks 
down, preserving my modesty.

“God, look at my cock,” he said with a laugh in his voice. “It’s 
shrunk!” And with that he proceeded to pull on his foreskin, 
massaging it back and forth, back and forth. “Never mind. 
Soon have the old codger back to normal!” I was totally 
fascinated, watching his penis slowly emerge seemingly from 
within his abdomen. At the same time his testicles began to 
materialise and pushed his scrotum downwards and outwards.

“Not that you’ve got that problem, mate,” he said. “Have 
you?”

Indeed I didn’t. I was embarrassed to notice that I was 
developing an erection. The very presence of his naked body, 
and the knowledge that I too was naked under my towel had 
caused the blood to flow from my head into my penis, leaving 
me light headed, confused and – I cannot deny – excited 
beyond anything I had ever experienced before.

I was quite unworldly about sex. Although I knew all about the 
birds and bees, and was quite used to getting hard-ons, I had 
not yet been capable of masturbating myself to ejaculation. 
Every time I tried to do so - secretly, furtively, waiting until 
the middle of the night until I was absolutely sure the house 
was asleep – I had enjoyed very pleasant sensations, but my 
erection had always disappeared just as it seemed that I was 
getting near to something wonderful, but as yet unattainable. 
However, my arousal that afternoon in the changing room was 
reaching a hitherto unattained level. 


My erection was pushing out forcibly against the towel causing 
it to point outwards in a very evident peak. I let out a muffled 
groan of embarrassment. At the same time the curious 
excitement that was flooding through me left me trembling 
with a desire I didn’t recognise. I only knew that I wanted, 
needed, something more to happen.

“That looks like a cracker you’ve got there,” my companion 
said. “Let me see it,” he asked. “Please.”

I looked into his eyes. I could see a longing, a craving that I 
recognised as mirroring my own. I let out a low groan and 
released the towel. It fell about my feet, leaving me naked, 
fully exposed for his inspection.

“That’s a beauty,” he whispered after a few moments, almost 
reverentially. “You can’t go about like that, though. Can I fix it 
for you?”

I didn’t really know what he meant. All I knew was that I 
needed something else. I nodded in agreement.

He reached forward with his left hand and placed his fingers 
gently around the engorged tip of my penis. His fingers danced 
gently, tenderly caressing the sensitive glans. My knees 
weakened and I reached out to take hold of a coat hook to 
steady myself. He shifted his fingers, moving his hand down 
my shaft before taking a good grip of my organ, from the 
foreskin to about half way down its length. His hand rested 
there for a few moments. I could feel the blood pulse through 
the large vein in my penis against his fingers. He lowered his 
right hand and gently cupped my testicles in his palm. Slowly, 
very slowly, he began to move his left hand up and down, up 
and down, pulling the skin gently over the sensitive tissue. At 
the same time and to the same rhythm he began to softly 
bounce my testicles onto his other palm, lightly squeezing and 
releasing them with each motion.

My groin was on fire. I felt a heat, a raging fire build up from 
somewhere deep inside me. I felt a pressure begin to swell up, 
surging through my testicles in waves of pure bliss. My 
companion increased his pace, stroking my penis and fondling 
my testicles faster and faster. I started to rock back and forth in 
time with his motions but in the opposite direction. The 
pressure within me grew and grew until suddenly I knew that 
something was about to happen to me, that I had reached a 
point of no return. 

I closed my eyes and let out a loud moan as a wave of pure 
sexual ecstasy surged through me. The pressure in my testicles 
peaked and I started to ejaculate, pumping stream after stream 
of white semen all over my companion’s stomach and chest. A 
last final surge pumped even higher, hitting him in his face. 

I had just experienced my first ever orgasm, and it was 
wonderful. 

When I had finished he gave a short laugh, picked up his towel 
and began to wipe the semen from his body. I smiled back at 
him. I looked down and saw that he too was now sporting an 
iron-hard erection. I knew that I should return the favour – in 
fact I wanted to return the favour. At that exact moment I 
wanted nothing else than to hold his erect penis, stroking and 
caressing it until he too experienced the bliss that I had just 
known.
“Your turn,” I said, reaching out for his organ. At that moment 
however, a teacher banged on the door and shouted for us to 
hurry up. 

My new friend gave me a sorrowful smile, “Damn!” he said. 
We hurriedly dressed, left the cubicle and went our separate 
ways.

**** 

“I saw him at the pool once or twice after that,” I told George. 
“But we were always with our own pals and we never got the 
chance to even talk, never mind meet again in private. It was 
the end of term a couple of weeks later and that was the end of 
our swimming lessons. I never saw him at all after that.”

George had listened to my story intently, interrupting me with 
questions, especially about the exact details of the sexual 
encounter. I think he became slightly aroused as he shifted 
about on his stool a few times and eventually took a menu 
from the bar and held it casually above his lap.

“You know, Joe,” he said, “I’ve always believed that people, 
straight and gay, can achieve sexual pleasure from all sorts of 
experiences, not just the ones they are used to. Your story 
proves my point. I know you’re not gay, but the person who 
masturbated you until you had your first orgasm just happened 
to be another boy. You’d be amazed to learn how many 
straight men’s first sexual experiences were with other boys.”

“God, and I thought I was really unusual,” I responded. “In 
fact it’s always worried me that I got turned on by him, as if I 
was – you know - I mean...”

“You mean that maybe you’re not as straight as you think you 
think you are?” He had picked on my most secret, innermost 
fear. My encounter in the swimming pool had left me 
confused. How could I have responded to another boy like 
that? For a time I was concerned that I was somehow turning 
gay, and so made a point of acting like “macho man” in front 
of my friends. My anxieties were relieved a few months 
afterwards when I met my first girlfriend and we began to 
experiment and it was with relief I confirmed that I did indeed 
like girls! But a lingering doubt had always remained. Talking 
it over with George helped me finally to understand that my 
response was quite normal for a fourteen year old boy. 

“I believe that most, if not all, men have the ability to enjoy 
sexual experiences with other men,” he said. “And women 
with women. It’s just people’s upbringings and neuroses that 
lead them to feel that such sexual contacts are dirty and 
immoral,  preventing them from enjoying what is, I think, a 
perfectly natural activity. So please don’t have any more 
worries about your encounter at the swimming pool.”

I made my way home a short while later after arranging to 
meet up again when he next visited my home town, in about 
four weeks time. 

I often thought about our conversation over the next few 
weeks. Was he right? Could most straight men really enjoy 
sexual experiences with other men? I began to look at my male 
colleagues and friends in a new light, wondering if they had 
ever indulged in gay sexual encounters. 

One morning I awoke early and realised I had been dreaming 
about that time in the swimming pool. Instead of my 
anonymous companion, however, it was a fourteen year old 
George who brought me to a shuddering climax. I awoke from 
this dream in such a state of arousal that I had to go to the 
bathroom and masturbate, something I hadn’t done in years. 
As I reached my climax it was a naked George, no longer 
fourteen but as he now was, who entered into my fantasy, 
stroking and fondling my penis and testicles, as I did the same 
to him….

****

“Hi George. I’m in the bar.” I had arrived at his hotel and 
called him on his mobile phone as we had arranged. All day 
long I had felt curiously excited about meeting George again, a 
mixture of anticipation and trepidation. I wasn’t even sure that 
I was going to turn up. In the end I rationalised that we were 
just going to have a meal and a drink, and some conversation 
about old times. What was there to worry about? 

“Hi Joe,” he answered. He continued casually, “I’m running a 
bit late, I’m afraid. Do you want to wait in the bar, or would 
you like to come up here while I’m getting ready? You can 
have a drink from the mini-bar if you like.”

My stomach turned somersaults and my legs turned to jelly. 
My God! He was inviting me up to his room! Was he…? 
Could he be…? Surely not! What should I say? I took a deep 
breath and replied in as calm a voice as I could muster. “The 
bar’s a bit boring. I think I’ll come up, if that’s OK.”

“Great. Fourth floor, room four-eleven.”

He answered the door wearing a thick cotton dressing gown, 
rubbing a towel over his freshly showered hair. “Sorry I’m a 
bit behind, Joe,” he apologised. “Help yourself to a drink while 
I get ready.” He returned to the bathroom, from where I could 
hear the sounds of teeth being brushed.

I took a bottle of lager from the mini-bar, opened it and began 
to drink. George emerged from the bathroom and walked 
slowly across the room and took out a bottle of beer for 
himself. He had removed the dressing gown and was now 
wearing just a pair of white cotton briefs that clung to his 
buttocks, clearly defining the crack between the cheeks. When 
he turned I could see a bulge in the fabric that precisely 
mapped the length of his penis and the spheres of his testicles. 
His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow and his legs firm 
and well muscled. He really was a good looking man.

I realised that my mouth was gaping open and my breath was 
laboured. He grinned at me. “Like what your seeing, Joe?” he 
asked. 

I nodded in reply. I did indeed enjoy what I was seeing. Finally 
I had to admit to myself what I had been fighting against for 
the last month - that our conversation about sexual experiences 
with other men had touched me, had reached a part of me I had 
not allowed myself to believe existed. That my encounter with 
that boy all those years ago had left behind a hunger for 
something more, a hunger that had been suppressed, never 
satisfied. 

“You’re… you’re a very handsome man, George,” I said.

“I’m a very handsome man with a hard-on!” he retorted. And 
indeed he was. His penis had become completely erect. It was 
straining against the thin cotton fabric and I could see its tip 
pushing against the elastic waistband. “Would you like to help 
me do something about it?” he inquired.     

This was my moment of truth. My opportunity to pull myself 
together, get out of his room, leave the hotel and never see him 
again. I took a deep breath and replied the only way I possibly 
could.

“Yes,” I said quietly.
 
He walked over to me and ran his finger down the front of my 
shirt, over one nipple, across my stomach and back up over the 
other nipple. I shivered with pleasure.

“I know that you’re new to this,” he said. “So you must tell me 
what you want me to do to you.” 

I opened my mouth but found that I couldn’t speak. “Would 
you like me to undress you?” he asked.

I nodded, but this did not suffice. “Joe, you must tell me what 
you want me to do. If you want me to undress you, you must 
say so.” His tone was changing, oh so slightly! Although his 
voice was not raised or stressed in any way, it was clear now 
that he was in charge and I was to do what I was told.

“Please undress me,” I complied.

“It will be my pleasure.” With that, he started unbuttoning my 
shirt, eventually removing it altogether. He moved behind me 
and caressed my shoulders and back, then returned to the front 
where he ran his fingers over my chest again and again. I 
closed my eyes, gasping with pleasure as he teased my nipples. 
He bent down to remove my socks and shoes, lifting each foot 
in turn, then running his hands up my trouser legs and across 
my groin. He brushed against my throbbing penis as he 
reached up to loosen my belt and unbutton my trousers. He 
pulled these down and took them off completely. All I was left 
wearing was my boxer shorts. He led me to the bed, placed me 
down and lay alongside me. He began to stroke my thighs, his 
fingers just touching my scrotum at the very end of each 
caress.

I was excited beyond belief. My throat was dry and I could feel 
my heart beat loudly against my chest. My penis pulsated 
against my underwear and my testicles felt as if they were 
trying to burst out of my body. 

“Would you like me to take of your pants?” he asked. 

“Yes!” I gasped.

“Tell me!” he ordered.

“Take off my pants. Please, George. Take them off. Make me 
naked. Please!” God I was begging him. Incredible, 
unbelievable, ridiculous, but true nevertheless. I was begging 
another man to strip me naked.

“Of course,” he smiled. His hands slid inside my shorts and he 
eased them down. I raised my hips slightly to allow him to 
remove them completely.

“My God,” I heard myself say. “I’m naked.” He reached over 
me to a bedside table and picked up a tube of something. I 
watched him open it up and spread the substance onto his 
hands. 

“Lubricant,” he explained. His hands moved down and he 
stroked my penis. One hand continued down, underneath my 
testicles and began to massage an area between the base of my 
shaft and my anus. I had never been touched there before. 
Every nerve fibre in my body was on fire. I gasped in surprise 
as he slid a moist finger into my anus.

“Oh! Oh! Oh my God!” I moaned, as he started to move his 
finger in and out, up and down, round and round inside me, 
gently stroking a part of my body that I never imagined could 
deliver such exquisite pleasure. 

I know now of course that this was my prostrate, the gland 
inside the rectum that is the source of the so-called male G-
spot. At the time I knew little about the source of my pleasure 
and I cared even less. All I knew was that I was that I wanted 
him to never stop, never stop, never stop……..

“Would you like me to shag you?” George asked. His words 
nearly caused me to orgasm there and them. Shag me? Insert 
his erect penis into my anus? Even in my recent fantasies I had 
never imagined anything like that. There couldn’t be anything 
more depraved, more wanton, more downright dirty – could 
there?

“Tell me then,” he prompted. “Tell me what you want me to 
do.”

“Oh God, George, I can’t… I mean I don’t know...” I was 
muttering incoherently now, incapable of stringing a sentence 
together. Suddenly I felt him insert a second finger into me, 
joining the other in its sensual dance around my most intimate 
passage. I cried out in pain and pleasure as his fingers worked 
deeper and deeper within me. 

“George,” I cried. “Please fuck me. Now. Please!”

I saw him smile. “Since you ask so nicely, Joe, it will be my 
pleasure.” He turned me over onto my stomach, my penis 
squashed into the mattress. Again he reached over to the 
bedside table and picked up two thin cords. Quickly he looped 
one around each of my wrists and tied the other end to the 
posts at the bottom of the headboard.

“You’re just a whore, aren’t you Joe?” he asked in a playful 
voice.

“Yes!” I gasped.

“You’re a slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m a slut. Please fuck me.”

“Alright, my little cunt.” With that, he spread my legs wide 
apart and lay on top of me. He positioned his penis at the 
entrance to my anus, teasing me by rubbing it against me 
without entering my passage. He swayed his hips around and 
around, still playing with me until I thought I would die with 
frustration and excitement. 

He entered me slowly, gently – but completely. He rested there 
deep inside for a minute or two, allowing my rectum to adjust 
to him. At last he began to move his body in and out, up and 
down in a slow, steady rhythm. His penis delicately, tenderly 
rubbed against this new, magical part deep inside me. I could 
feel his testicles bounce against my buttocks. I have never felt 
anything so incredible in my entire life. I was completely, 
absolutely overwhelmed with sexual excitement. As his pace 
increased slightly the sensations became too much to hold in 
and I cried out in ecstasy as I orgasmed, ejaculating my semen 
again and again. all over the bed and my chest and stomach. 

Incredibly, after I finished ejaculating I continued to orgasm. 
Over and over again my body jerked and spasmed as he 
continued to thrust into me, deeper and deeper, harder and 
harder. Eventually I heard him cry out and I felt his penis throb 
and pulsate as he ejaculated his semen into me. His orgasm 
joined mine and we sailed together to a land of bliss and 
harmony and joy, crying and moaning with delicious rapture.

After a while we showered together, laughing and teasing each 
other like schoolboys, splashing each other, flicking each 
others’ bare bottoms with towels and so on. As we began to get 
dressed I noticed with amazement that I was erect again. It 
usually took several hours these days for me to get aroused 
again after sex. George noticed too.

“You really are a horny little boy-slut, aren’t you?” He said, 
laughing. “I may have released a monster tonight!”

“Come over here and release this monster,” I suggested.

“Oh no!” He smiled. “We’ll never get our dinner if I do that. 
You’ll just have to take care of it yourself later.”

And so we went to dinner, had a few drinks, and returned to 
his hotel bar for a nightcap.

“Will I see you again?” I asked as I was preparing to leave.

“Oh yes,” he said. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear. 
“And if you get rid of that spare tyre maybe I’ll let you shag 
me next time!”

“Cheeky bastard,” I retorted, smiling.

“Slut!” He replied.

****
Now, I’m sure there will be men reading this story in disbelief. 
How on earth, I can hear them say, do you expect me to 
believe that a normal, straight man could permit another man 
to enter him this way and to actually enjoy it? All I can say to 
such cynics is – try it. At least once in your life, try it. We all 
have the same anatomy, after all. You may well be missing the 
thrill of your life.

At the office next day I did two things. Firstly, I asked my 
secretary to find a gym near the office that I could join. I 
reckoned I could go there at lunchtimes and lose my flab. My 
wife would be pleased about that as well, I felt sure.

After that I went back onto the Friends Reunited website. His 
name leapt out at me. My old friend Billy Smith, now working 
in a town just an hour’s drive away.

I smiled to myself as I composed my email.