My name is Richard Walton. I grew up in a southern Wisconsin town large enough to have its own high school but not the size of Madison or Milwaukee. We were the kind of town where everyone knew each other and most folks didn’t bother to lock their doors when they were away. Like most mid-sized towns in America, we had a few who were called the “rich” people and others that were just getting by. Most of us were somewhere in the middle and of course, that included my family.
I got interested in girls around junior high age. Before that it was all about sports … baseball, football, and basketball. My friends and I didn’t abandon our interest in sports when girl awareness became a pandemic among us. Girls just added one more sport to the list. Most of us had no idea about women but it was already clear that just the hint of female sexuality inflamed our adolescent cocks. School books served as excellent cover for the embarrassing bulge in our jeans while going from class to class. Night time was the right time for relief as we discovered how to sooth our jangled nerves from our growing problem.
Becky was my first girl friend and that was in junior high. “Girlfriend” at 14 means mostly phone calls. A date was usually at McDonald’s or at the local movie theater. Oh yes, we did our homework together just as an excuse to see each other and occasionally we met at the library but books and studying were not my interests. Every Friday night after basketball games, there was a “dance” at the school gym but no one danced. It was just a place to hook up … not in sexual sense, but more of a social event. Of course, the guys would brag the next day about how they got a little tit but that seemed to be ridiculous. First, there wasn’t much there to begin with and second, none of my friends were brave enough to try any thing more than holding hands. I was by far the most innocent, naïve, and timid of them all.
Basketball was my game and by the time I was a junior in high school, I made the varsity as a reserve point guard. We were known as the Trojans as in “Trounce ’em Trojans.” It wasn’t points on the scoreboard that brought me recognition but it was elsewhere that I scored. The team shower room is a great measure of men. I suppose that’s why males shower openly together while women tend to shower more privately. Anyway, my teammates were clearly envious of my “hose” for that is what it was affectionately called. Those who have been around athletes know that good natured ribbing is a mainstay of the culture and believe me, I got plenty of sports “culture,” if you know what I mean. The thing was, in a relatively modest size town, there are no secrets that last more than few hours. So, the news of my “hose” was out and had already circulated among the girls at school. In fact, teams in our conference had gotten word of my anatomy which made for some humorous trash talkin’ during a game. Once I was at the foul line shooting a one and one and just as I was ready to shoot, a big dumb ox yelled, “Hey Dick, ya got a Trojan on the hosen?” People were laughing so hard the coach called time out. Oh ya, I missed the front end of the one and one. We lost that game by a point!
I had a reputation by then that wasn’t easy to live down. Yet, what seems to be a disaster often turns into good fortune. Becky and I were still friends. Like me, she had changed physically and now had a woman’s body. It wasn’t the sexiest body in town but nice and comfortable. Some of the girls showed off their new equipment wearing tight fitting clothes but not Becky. She dressed conservatively but always with a sophisticated style. Her father ran the hardware store so her family was closer to the wealthy side of town and they could afford buying her nice clothes. We ran around with a group made up of our basketball team and our girlfriends. Most “dates” meant going to Stan’s house to watch videos. Stan’s real name is Stanley but the girls called him “Johnny” because of his resemblance to Johnny Depp. Stan had a special way with the girls and living in an upscale neighborhood didn’t hurt. Stan’s folks were the wealthiest people in town. They had an indoor swimming pool and the most fantastic entertainment center imaginable. Sometimes there were fifteen to twenty kids laying around watching movies on their large screen projection TV. By that stage in high school, our hormones were raging but mostly under control for fear of making fools of ourselves. Other than Nolan, our center, no one openly said they had sex with a girl and he only fucked a girl at the community college because she thought he was older. The rest of us got off watching porno movies and fantasizing in our bedrooms. One thing was for sure, when I ejaculated, there was enough spunk to populate a city the size of Milwaukee!
On Thursday before the game with our biggest rival, I opened my math book and noticed a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I opened it and it read, “Go Trojans” but what was really weird was a little icon drawing of a penis. It wasn’t signed and I wondered who was playing a joke on me. The next week we were doing the kadıköy escort second half of a home and home series with our rival and another sheet of paper appeared but this time in my science book. It was different. This time it said, “Get it on, Trojans” and the drawing was larger and more detailed but it was definitely a stiff cock. Now I was getting hyper. This was both exciting and scary. Who was doing this and why? I just couldn’t just go around the school and ask, “Who is the cock artist?”
We had a bye the next week and no drawing appeared but at the beginning of March, the playoffs started. Our first game was Wednesday night with the Red Demons that were known for upsets and we were by far the prohibitive favorite in the regionals. I had almost forgotten the messages from earlier until my English book contained a new note on Wednesday morning. This time the message was, “Trojans … Give me ecstasy.” The drawing was more like a detailed painting because it was a massive cock showing veins and a nice cap on the end with a hint of a pee hole at the tip. It might have been my imagination but there seemed to be a little moisture oozing from the orifice with a shape like the letters bj. Was someone trying to encourage me or upset me? “BJ” could mean only mean one thing and if I could find the artist, I could get to the bottom of this mystery.
Our basketball season ended abruptly as we unexpectedly lost to the Demons in overtime although I had my best game. Our starting point guard had fouled out early giving me a chance to score some points. After the game we took the bus back to school where I met Becky. Our group met at Stan’s but no one was in the mood for a video. I took Becky home early but not before we enjoyed a little romance. We had moved onto having a more physical relationship. Becky didn’t mind me feeling her up and she liked being touched. This night she even removed her bra and let see her nicely protruding tits. Her breasts were firm and her nipples were still at the puffy stage but seeing them drove me wild. It surprised me when she began panting like a dog in heat each time I touched her tits. When I began sucking on them, she let out a little yelp that startled me. I got the nerve to take her hand and move it over to my hard cock but that was as far as she was willing to go. I couldn’t hold back as streams of cum filled my pants. Becky could feel the wet spot on my jeans but said nothing. We kissed goodnight and said how sorry she was about the game. That’s when she said, “I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
April 12th was my 18th birthday. The guys gave the Hose a “bachelor” party on Friday night at Stan’s. We used the pool, watched some porn flicks and snuck a few beers from the stash located in the garage frig. Stan was already 18 and bought a couple of cases of Old Style for the occasion. I’m not a drinker so two beers were fine. We all had a good time and decided since the party was in honor of the Hose, we should be skinny dipping. That’s what we did until 1:00 AM and by that time we were either tired, drunk or both. Driving home, I thought about Becky’s surprise. She said Saturday night was bowling night for her parents and to come over around seven. It was kind of hard sleeping while fantasizing about her intentions. Hopefully, she was going to let me fuck her and pop that delectable cherry. It was something I had imagined doing all year.
Saturday night we had unusual weather. The temperature had dipped down to 28 degrees and it was snowing. When I rang Becky’s doorbell, I was shivering. Was it from anticipation or the cold? Becky opened the door flashing her dazzling smile punctuated by a pair of killer dimples. She was dressed nicely with a lavender button-down blouse and jeans. She wore no shoes but had little pink bows on either side of her head holding two tiny blond pigtails. She looked so Barbie doll cute and smelled delicious! “I have a surprise for you birthday boy,” she said smiling.
“Oh, what is it?” I replied in my manliest voice.
“Look in the refrigerator. There’s something to help us celebrate!”
Sure enough, a nice bottle of French Champagne was chilled with two identical flute shaped glasses painted with “Happy Birthday, Hose!”
“Where did you get those?” I blurted out.
“Oh, they came from the Party Store in town. Do you like ’em?”
“I LOVE ’em!!! Do ya want a glass now?”
“Sure, let’s do it.”
I’m no sommelier but I had tasted champagne during New Years Eve parties and I knew how to open champagne bottles. It was a good thing that it wasn’t Chardonnay where I had to use a corkscrew. That would have been a sure way to illustrate my inexperience. The cork made a loud pop startling Becky and she made a little hop at the sound making both jugs jiggle. The scene got me thinking of last night’s porn flick where a lady’s boobs jiggled while giving a guy a well lubricated hand job and blow job. Cum slowly cascaded down his dick just like the tasty bubbly was oozing over the neck of the bottle. It was so sexy and suggestive; I had to bite my tongue to keep me from kartal escort laughing.
A little champagne goes a long way with me. After the second glass, I was feeling really good and Becky seemed to be feeling no pain as well. She said, “Let’s take our drinks upstairs. I want to show you my latest painting.” Becky planned to be an art major in college and I had seen several of her pieces shown at the art gallery in town. She was that good! I didn’t know that her easel and art supplies were in a corner of her bedroom and that is where we were headed. Again, my imagination got the best of me and I swore Becky was showing a little more cleavage than usual. Once in the room, she closed the door and simply said in a calm voice, “Let me see it.”
“See what?” I stammered.
“Show me your hose,” she replied with a bit of blush on her face.
“I want to paint you.”
That’s when it dawned on me! … “It was YOU!” I croaked.
“Didn’t you know? Maybe you didn’t see my initials hidden in the painting before tournament.”
“I saw it but I thought it meant something else.”
“Like what?” she asked
“Never mind. I just didn’t think that BJ stood for Becky Johansson. I really feel kind of stupid.”
“That’s OK. My art did the job because you were great in that last game. I got hot just thinking about you out there with that bulge in your shorts.”
“Thanks, I think,” was the best I could say.
“So are you going to show me or not?” Becky asked rather forcefully. “I’m going to do you in chalk. My parents will be home in an hour so get going!” sounding too much like my mom.
That’s how I became a male model. You wouldn’t think that a boy of eighteen couldn’t get it up for a teen-age girl asking to see his cock but that’s what happened. I took down my pants but the hose was as soft and limp as a wet dishrag.
“I want to do it hard. How do you get it up?” Becky asked.
“Well, the first thing is I need some encouragement,” I answered with a twinkle in my eyes. “You need to show me your twins for starters.” She hadn’t counted on her participation other than doing a drawing. Becky knew what I meant by her “twins” but acted confused and then said, “OK, you’ve seen me before so I guess it’s OK.”
Becky Johansson removed her lavender blouse and when she took off her bra with her tits flopping out as if they had just been released from captivity. What a sight to behold! I swear her twins had grown since seeing them in my car and they looked more mature. Her nipples were a light brown with a slight upturn. She wasn’t a C-cup but almost. My cock started to twitch and grow like a balloon filling with helium. I knew I didn’t need it but said, “Hey Beck … if you want it really hard, you have to come here and touch it. Hurry, your parents will be home soon.”
Again she hesitated but she walked over and gave the hose a nice hand hug. “Do it a few more times and I’ll be ready!” I pleaded. She did.
Basically, an artist makes sketches before doing a finished painting. So during the half hour we had together, she sketched my dick making a half dozen renderings from different angles. Of course she had to hug the hose from time to time to keep it stiff. When we heard her parent’s car coming up the driveway, we quickly got dressed. She slipped the sketches in her art folder and we went down to the kitchen to say, “Hi” to Mr. and Mrs. Johansson. They, of course, wanted to know about the champagne but were OK with it when hearing about my birthday. Becky would be 18 in May so it was no big deal.
As I left, Becky asked, “So what do you think of my birthday surprise?”
“Delicious!” I replied.
I think by our junior year, most of the guys had seen their girlfriend’s tits and maybe felt a little pussy. A few might even have gotten laid but I was always a late bloomer. Saturday nights with Becky were about as good as it got for me … at least at first. Bowling season for the Johansson’s was ending in June. May was fast approaching. A few more Saturday night “modeling” sessions and the painting was finished. The private showing or undraping, as it were, showed a large but shapely circumcised penis in natural colors with a hint of testicles but the big surprise was a seeing a tiny hand surrounding the fully erect organ. The fingers were drawn to resemble lips. Only an artist can take something … well ordinary … and make it unusual or special, i.e., something artistic. She signed it, “BJ.”
“I want to do an oil,” she said one late afternoon. Come to my house on Saturday night and I’ll make some sketches.”
That sounded fine but then I had an idea. I was getting used to modeling, however that wasn’t what motivated me. I wanted to fuck that girl’s juicy cunt. The next time I went into Becky’s bedroom, she drew me completely in the nude. There was no pretense at this stage so I just removed all of my clothes standing stark naked in front of the artist and she accommodated me by painting topless. It seemed clear we were ready for the next step.
Here kurtköy escort is where my idea took shape. Standing in front of Becky nude but with a limp dick, I showed her my digital camera and said, “Rather than sketching, you can take as many pictures of me with or without a hard-on but you have to be completely nude as well.” It seemed like a fair deal and no big deal. Becky thought otherwise. I said, “Look, both of your parents grew up in Sweden. The Swedes look at these things differently and I thought you’d have no problem with this.”
“I was born here and it isn’t the same as with my folks,” she replied without much conviction.
“Well let me show you what I’m getting at here. Turn on your computer and go to Naturist.com”
She said, “OK, but nothing will change my mind.” as she typed in the address. She was really surprised to see totally naked girls and women of all ages walking casually among men and boys. They even had a Junior Miss Pageant like a Miss Nude Sweden contest complete with a bouquet of flowers for the winner. A girl about Becky’s age was the first place winner. The girl’s breasts were on their way to womanhood and I’d say they looked perky. The winner had a nice untrimmed pubic mound but she wasn’t as developed as my girlfriend. Becky replayed the video clip several times before saying, “Hey, I look better than that!”
“OK,” I said, “Let’s see.”
“I promise. I’d never laugh about something like this.”
“OK, but don’t laugh.”
Becky removed her blouse and bra so there was no surprise as those glorious breasts appeared. Her tits were as magnificent as always. I never could get enough of them. After taking down her jeans and tossing them on the bed, she said, “Let me put on my robe and then I’ll take off my panties.”
“Just take ’em off Becky. We don’t have all night.”
She turned her back to me and slipped her pink lace panties over her knees down to her ankles and then kicked the underwear onto the bed. I was left with a magnificent view of two perfectly round lobes separated with a crack making for a perfect tight ass. Quickly I snapped a few pictures before she could say, “Stop.”
“You didn’t,” she yelped.
“We’ve just started so keep you mouth shut,” I replied forcefully.
She was shocked because Becky had never heard me be so aggressive before. She didn’t say a word as I asked her to slowly turn her body as I snapped more pictures.
The profile view of a female body is something that makes women look so wonderfully erotic. Her breasts fell naturally from her shoulders with those tasty upturned nipples. The anticipation of seeing her pussy was just so powerful my dong stood at immediate attention. She noticed.
“Dick, I’ve never seen you get stiff so fast like that. What happened? Are you taking Viagra?”
Click … click …click … then I said, “It’s not Viagra, it’s you, Becky!”
She gave me her sexiest yet shy smile.
Becky’s frontal view gave me my first good look at her pussy. She had it trimmed to fit her bikini but there still was a bush. It was more like what they call a “landing strip.” I imagined how it would look shaved. She kept turning and I kept clicking. I think there were about 20 shots before she said, “My turn.”
She grabbed the camera and asked how to work the zoom. I had no idea what she was planning but it was obvious that she was curious. So, she started taking pictures from different angles asking me to move my “thingy” up or down …sideways, left and right. Finally it became clear that she was more interested in my balls than my “thingy.”
“OK,” she said. “Lay on your back and spread your legs so I can get one more shot and make sure your cock is sticking straight up.”
I had never heard her use the word “cock” before. It was always my “thingy.” It seemed we were making good progress … slow, but progress. Becky was ready for a good reaming.
“Fine with me,” I answered, “but two things. First you have to lick my dick to be sure it stands up like you want and second, you have to lay down and spread your legs so I can get a shot of your pussy.” She blushed beet red.
Biting a finger and giving me a pensive look, she said, “Just one of me and that’s all, OK?” She seemed fine with the licking part.
After a little awkward conversation where both of us were more than a little embarrassed, we got our pictures. I went first. Becky took a couple pictures of my engorged pole accompanied by the family jewels. She was next. Slowly and reluctantly, Becky sat on the bed keeping her legs tightly closed. She laid back onto the bed but still kept her legs together. I gave her a kiss while gently putting my hand on her upper thigh encouraging her to open up. It took some effort to reassure her that she was beautiful and sexy. Finally, there she was, spread-eagle on the bed. I had a front row seat viewing her narrow pubes leading down to nicely rounded pussy lips. It was truly a Kodak moment when I clicked the shutter. The two of us agreed never to show any of the photos to friends. As insurance, Becky insisted that each of us had copies. If one of us let a friend see them, the other would do the same and neither of us wanted that to happen. Becky downloaded the pictures to her computer in a folder called “Homework.” I went home with a heavy duty hard-on.