More Summer Heat

10 Jul

The heat and humidity are already oppressive this morning, so much that I kinda blanked out for a moment, giving my brain a chance to remind me of another such day back when I was quite the younger man.

One of the fellas and I went to a friend’s house to see what he was up to and to find out if he wanted to hang out with us, the plan being for us to scour the neighborhood looking for bottles so we could cash them in and get enough for us to go the pool at Kruse’s, over on the east side.  It only cost a quarter to get in but when you’re between allowance money, well, you do what you gotta do to get that quarter.

We got there and the friend’s older brother, known to us as Jock, told us he had gone to the store for him and that we could wait for him to return.  Jock was one scary dude, big and muscular and with a neighborhood rep of being a badass; we once saw him punch a guy in the face for accidentally bumping into him so sitting there with him while he talked to someone on the phone had us both pretty nervous.

Then Jock pulled out his dick and started stroking it until it was very long and hard; I wasn’t sure about the guy sitting next to me but my mouth started to water the moment he took it in his hand.  We looked at each other then back at Jock, who was busy talking and stroking himself and I know we were both thinking, “Wow, he’s got a really big one!”

While we had both earned some money having sex of some kind with other men in our ‘hood, Jock’s cock was, at least for me, the biggest one seen to that point.  It was much darker than the rest of his body, like a huge stick of ebony, so majestic that my own dick throbbed strongly as it was trapped inside my shorts.  Seeing it was making me nervous, had me quite excited; my friend was squirming uncomfortably as he sat next to me; a quick peek told me that he had his eyes riveted to Jock’s dick, appearing to be hypnotized in the same way cobras hypnotize their prey before striking.

“Come over here and suck my dick,” Jock suddenly said, still stroking himself as he looked at us.

“Who?” I asked nervously.

“Not you – him,” Jock said, pointing at my friend.

My friend started stuttering nervously, trying to say something like he didn’t do that… but I knew it was a lie and, apparently, Jock knew it, too.

“I know you like this shit, so get over here… NOW!” Jock growled menacingly.

I was frozen in place – this guy was just plain scary!  My friend, who I thought was equally scared, crossed the distance between us and Jock so fast he appeared to be a blur, falling to his knees and allowing Jock to stuff that big-assed dick into his mouth… and all I could do was watch and, yeah, even with a lot of envy because I realized that in the back of my mind, I had been trying to figure out just how I would suck that huge thing.

I even found myself wishing that he’d tell me to get over there as I watched Jock fucking my friend’s mouth and if any of you think he was being victimized or abused, well, you’d be wrong; if I thought that I was a huge cock whore back then, this kid made me look tame by comparison.  My friend was working on that dick as if his life depended on it, clearly enjoying himself and by the dreamy look Jock had on his face, he was enjoying it as well.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the scene before me.  I do remember wondering where the friend we came looking for was and why he hadn’t come back from the store yet (I’ll tell you why in a moment) and more so since the store wasn’t even a block away – but it was just a passing thought.  I wanted to suck that dick, too, but I wasn’t even going to move from where I was sitting… but Jock had another idea.

“Take your dick out and jerk off,” he said to me, his voice containing a lot less menace than before.  “Let me see you do it…”

It seems as if I blinked – and then my dick was in my hand and I was going for the gusto.

“Hmm,” Jock said as he nodded.  “For a young dude, you got a nice-sized dick – I like that.”

His praise flowed over me like warm honey; any time an older dude gave you some props, that was a big deal.

I’m watching Jock getting his monstrous cock sucked and he’s watching me spank my monkey and, whoops, my release hit me hard, sending a jet of spunk arching into the air and had me whimpering under the powerfully good feeling.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jock said, smiling at me.  “I need to do that, too…”

He stopped my friend from blowing him – I could tell my friend was very unhappy about that just from his body language and Jock saw it as well – he just laughed for a moment and told my friend to take his pants off; hell, my friend lost his shorts and underwear so fast you would have thought he never had them on to begin with!

Still recovering from my manual release, I watched with amazement as Jock applied a lot of spit to his dick and my friend’s ass – and gasped as the older guy shoved quite a bit of dick into my friend’s butt; my own butt puckered just to think about how much that had to hurt going in and I wasn’t feeling all that sorry for him at that moment.  My friend, however, just smiled as Jock began to fuck him slowly; he never even uttered a sound as he was being penetrated.

I’m sitting here remembering what happened that day (minus the excitement of that moment) and thinking a few conflicting thoughts.  The adult me realizes that, back then, it was what it was; it wasn’t all that unusual for what I had been watching to happen even if, in the here and now, it’s something I wouldn’t approve of… but to reverse a popular saying, this is now… that was then.  It happened and I accept that it did – just one of the facts of life learned.

My friend’s moaning happily now, encouraging Jock to stick more into him – and Jock was more than happy to oblige; my dick was hard again and I was about to put my hand to use again when Jock waved me over.  I’m not even sure how I managed to walk over to him but I did; he said for me to hold still and, yeah, you bet your ass I held still!  He was still in my friend’s ass but unmoving as he put his hands around my waist, picked me up as if I weighed nothing, and swallowed my cock and balls in one gulp.

I shot my young load immediately – to this day I remain impressed that he did it like that.  Jock set me back on my feet, smiled at me, and said, “Yeah, that tasted good – thanks!” and went back to cornholing my friend as if  nothing had happened.

I pulled my gear back up and just stood there and watched this huge cock going in and out my friend’s butt; Jock started to grunt and move faster – even I knew that he was about to shoot his stuff.  I swear to you that I actually saw Jock’s dick get bigger just before I saw it convulse; Jock was cursing, my friend was actually laughing as the older man creamed my friend’s butt.

Jock finally pulled himself out, a flood of spunk oozing out as well and it was as if the spell had been broken; I was aware of how hot and steamy the room was because I was now sweating as if I’d gone swimming with my clothes on and I was strangely happy that while I got to bust two nuts, I hadn’t been on the receiving end of that very grown up dick.

The moment everyone got settled back into their original positions, the friend we came looking for walked in the door with a bag in his hand… and I smelled a rat and especially when I saw the little sly grin on his face that told me that he had set us up and that he was the one who told his big brother about what we liked to do when we hung out.

You gotta know that we pretty much kicked his ass when we left the house because he broke a rule of being in our ‘club’ – he told a grown-up about what we liked to do and other than getting a little beaten up, well, you can probably guess what the rest of his punishment was.  Today I think about his punishment and how he – and everyone who participated in administering it – enjoyed it and, again, the adult that I am now can only shake his head in wonderment at some of the shit we used to do when summer’s heat was upon us.

There are times when I really do wonder what I would have been like had I not experienced the things I did during those hot, muggy, summer days.  I know that I can’t act like it never happened – well, I could but then I’d just be lying to myself so there’s no point in denying it.  That I can’t deny it feels… right, even though I realize that some folks would find all of this pretty sordid.  And, perhaps it was – but it’s easy to say that in retrospect and, of course, it doesn’t change the fact that it happened.

If the weather wasn’t the way it is right now, I probably would have never recalled this moment from my past and I continue to be amazed at how something as innocuous as a hot summer day can trigger memories that I thought were buried or lost…

Stand by for a follow-up blog on this…


Posted by on 10 July 2013 in Life, Living and Loving


Tags: , , , ,

2 responses to “More Summer Heat

  1. lifeofalovergirl

    10 July 2013 at 17:47

    I was reluctant to comment on this post before you wrote the other one. It is well written and from your side of the story sounds hot! Only then my logical brain took over and said hey, this is an adult with a child and that isn’t right. Yet what matters now, that it is long since over, is your perception of what happened and how it affected you.

    On one hand, I would never, ever want to encourage pedophiles, but on the other I think it is great that your experiences did not affect you negatively in the long run. They COULD have, but they didn’t and in that you are fortunate.

    I’ve had similar experiences that would have other people going, wait, this is horrifying, but to ME they were not and I don’t want anyone’s pity. I’m not upset about them and am able to draw out the good from what could have been a negative experience for many but for me simply just was a part of my sexual past. I think it’s good for us to be able to write about things in the way WE experienced them and not have to be so careful of our audience or how it obviously COULD have affected us, but DIDN’T.

    Like if I tell people I was gang raped and they feel sorry for me, it’s like, no, don’t feel sorry for me because I don’t feel sorry for myself. It was simply something that happened. Yes, it probably affected my sexual tastes and whatever but I don’t hate the people that were a part of it. One was even someone I eventually grew to love. The human experience is not all the same and can’t be put in a box.


    • kdaddy23

      10 July 2013 at 18:14

      Ah, don’t be reluctant; you can’t feel bad about something that probably happened before you were born. Pedophilia? Nah, I couldn’t really call it that; if anything, it was opportunistic sex and in a period of time that when you didn’t have anything to do, you had sex. Trust me, I’ve had many years to analyze my experiences and I never felt like a victim – none of us did, to be honest. As a matter of fact, of all the grown-ups in the ‘hood – and I’m talking about anyone who was, say, 16 and up – I don’t recall anyone ever being preyed upon… just like I don’t remember anyone saying no if propositioned. I talk about these things with the thought in mind to not look at any of it as being a negative – that’s the adult in me talking and not the kid who actually experienced it.

      It’s not about pity or being felt sorry for… because if I didn’t feel bad about any of it – and you can bet your very cute ass that I didn’t – then no one else should feel as if it was a negative. I learned something, not only about myself but about life and how people can behave when it comes to sex; I learned that, yep, boys do have sex with other boys and just because they can and that if they do, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re gay – I got more than my share of pussy during those crazy, buck-wild years of having sex.

      You come to understand, my friend, that logic and common sense isn’t always that great of a shield against being horny; it’s almost safe to assume that there are a lot of people who have had sex with someone and knew that they shouldn’t be doing it with them… yet they did. You can always say – and usually after the fact – that, hmm, I shouldn’t have done this but it is as I said: Telling yourself that you shouldn’t have done it after you’ve done it kinda doesn’t make sense. And, if it was good sex, hmm, what’s the sense in complaining about it?

      All that guy sex I had back in the day? It was about experimentation, opportunity, taking all those taboos and flushing them down the toilet… and all because it was fucking fun and exciting to do the things you were told to never, ever, do… and besides, there wasn’t much else to do. But, you see, some people would turn and look the other way, either angry, ashamed, embarrassed, or whatever to hear about what happened that day; all they’d see is a negative; they’d see victims and crimes being committed. They don’t want to know that, yeah, you bet your ass, THESE KINDA THINGS HAPPENED. We’re taught that if it does happen, we should become all psychotic about it and all that… when, in fact, that’s not always the end result: But we want it to be that way.

      It was what it was; hell, I’m surprised I could remember it given that I know I have holes in my memory because of the stroke so, if nothing else, I’m finding out where those holes are and how badly damaged my other “files” are. I don’t run and hide from my memories; it’s silly because I’m trying to do the impossible – run from myself. I could lie to myself, justify my actions by claiming I was a victim and didn’t know any better…

      And none of that self-deception can change the fact that it did happen.



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