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.