Bi Friends: Chesapeake Bay Rumpus

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Is naked wrestling sports, too?
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Part 6 of the 10 part series

Updated 08/31/2017
Created 06/29/2002
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If you are under 18, you should not read this. If reading stories of a sexual nature are illegal where you are, then don't goddam read this. Get out and vote!

This story is true, and is from a moment in my life where I was developing my sexual identity. I am a straight adult, but I was a voraciously bi youth. It was all very natural and incredibly fun, and I'm not in the least bit ashamed or unhappy about it. Since then, I tucked it all neatly away on a shelf until the past six months, when writing about it on Literotica, The Kristen Archives, and Nifty, brought it roaring back to my senses. I can taste the moment, feel it, smell it all over again, just by writing. This, in itself, is a new experience, and I'm really enjoying it.

If you like the story, feel free to e-mail me, at the link below. Getting feedback is cool, especially from those with similar experiences! Don't be shy!

Time: Mid 1970s

Place: A Summer Camp On The Chesapeake Bay

When Glen walked in, it was clear that the three of us had just finished a total suck fest. The bunks were pushed together and we were on them together, still naked, all twisted all over each other with our hands on each other's poles and our faces laying across legs or mid sections.

It was also perfectly natural and normal for Glen to walk in, being that this bunk room over the kitchen was his for the summer. I was just surprised that we didn't hear him until he opened the door. The radio was playing, but it was playing loud music quietly!

Paul and Jerry froze. They knew that Glen and I had been jerk buddies, but they had no idea how much time we'd spent 69ing already that summer, so when Glen looked at us with a huge smile and said "Cool!" in a boisterous, friendly guy way, and I answered back "Hey", with a big grin, they were relieved, to put it mildly! Then I froze........

Looming out of the shadows of the doorway came 'Capt'n' Mike, assistant director of the whole summer camp. Mike basically ran the camp and, at 22, was older, wiser, tougher, faster and more worldly than all of us. He was a nice guy, and we all liked him, but he was definitely part of the grown up world, and we were still kids compared to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend who drove a brand new Triumph convertible and visited him from Baltimore every week, and it was common knowledge that they were to get some undisturbed time together during those visits.

"Cheeezus, you guys", Mike said with a big, disarmingly friendly smile, then shook his head and told us to just go on back to our cabins, and added, in a theatrically responsible tone, that we shouldn't really be up here in the first place. We scrambled to get back into our shorts and t-shirts and sneakers, and tore passed them and down the stairs. Halfway across the playing fields I started to howl with laughter, and the other two did, too. Then Paul and Jerry headed to their cabin and I headed to mine.

When I got there, I half opened the door and told the Counselor In Charge that I still had some putting away to help with over at the kitchen. Everyone was nearly asleep, and he mumbled some sort of OK, so I dashed back to the scene of the crime. There was no moon, and I ran like I was in the 100 yard dash.

When I got to the mess hall, I darted around back and quietly opened the gate into Glen's little enclosed yard, looked up, and saw that his inner door was shut. This was a first, and now I HAD to have a look.

The kitchen bunk house had been built in the early 60s, in a rustic style, over the flat roofed kitchen that dated from the 50s. There was a nearly 3 foot wide ledge outside the door and windows on 2 sides, and I slid up the stairs, still smiling and more than a little short of breath, and carefully knelt out onto the ledge along the window side and peeked in through the screen and the slatted wooden interior shutters.

Glen was sitting on the end of the single bunk, feet on the floor, and Mike was standing in front of him. Both of them were plenty naked, and so close to me that I could have reached out and touched either of them. I was so excited my chest was completely constricted. Glen, a friendly, muscular kid with a comically tough edge, straight like me, and like Paul, and like Jerry, and like Mike, I guess (?!), was holding Mike's dick like he had just caught it while applauding. It was absolutely slathered in vegetable shortening from the kitchen, so much that it looked like icing, and Glen's open, extended hands were sliding up and down along the sides of it.

They were talking, quietly, and the tone and cadence sounded like one shy kid trying to talk another shy kid into asking a pretty girl to dance. "Say it", Mike said.

"Can't we just do it", Glen asked?

"You have to say it", Mike said, friendly but firm. "Fuck me", Mike said, looking up sheepishly. "Say the whole thing, or I can't", Mike cajoled back, grinning a giant grin. It was a bizarre exchange... not aggressive, sort of funny, in an endearing way, if that makes any sense.

My eyes were huge, and I had my dick out and was stretching it. I could clearly see where all this was going, and I had never seen two guys screw before, and certainly not two straight guys, one of whom I knew pretty well. This was the 70s, and vid porn didn't exist yet, and we'd never seen ANY guy-guy porn, anywhere.

Glen's palms were still moving up and down and up and down. Mike's dick was so much more fully grown up than mine or Jerry's or Paul's or even Glen's, and Glen had the biggest I'd ever seen up until now. It wasn't fat, but was long and curved up, and sort of oddly pink with a purpley red head. Most of the dicks I'd seen were somehow more on the tannish side in color. "Please fuck me in my ass", Mike said, not in a heavy or tough way, more of a sing song whisper, smiling.

"Please fuck me in the ass", Glen said, looking up, still smiling that huge smile he got when we messed around.

He rolled back and threw his legs up in the air, letting go of the lathered dick and rubbing the goo on his own dick, and reaching further down to massage it into his ass. Mike put Glen's feet over his shoulders, and poked his dick against the opening of Glen's butt. This was all just beyond my nose, and I had never seen such a thing, though I was certainly no stranger to dick play. Mike started to roll his hips, but he didn't seem to go in at all, just rolled them with the head of his dick against Glen's asshole. Glen started to move in a matching rhythm, and they did this together for a little while, both of them letting out sort of tremelous, light moans. Then it almost seemed like Mike just fell forward, slowly, like a tree falling in slow motion. His dick slid into Glen up to the hilt and they both let out a sort of gasp and high, almost worried moans, and then didn't move for what seemed like a full minute or more.

Then Glen started to roll his hips up, just slightly, then did it again, then again. Without pulling out at all, Mike started to match his rolls, barely perceptible at first, just squeezing his ass cheeks together, forcing his dick in to match Glen's slow grind. Then, slowly, I started to see space between them and see his incredible dick, out, then in, then out, then in. Then they picked up the pace and it became a little more forceful, with a little flesh slapping as they met. I could smell it... not shit but sex, fucking, sweat and shortening and balls and butts. The slamming was fanning the scent right into my nostrils.

Glen was sliding both hands all over his own dick and balls, over and over. He was letting go with the most incredible "MMMMMPHS!", and smiling like a dog getting his belly rubbed. On the down slap he started to say "Fuck!" as he exhaled like a loud whisper with the air blasting out, over and over. This seemed to push Mike and he started to really slam and dig forward, raising on his toes, leg muscles all tensed. I was on my knees, with my face crushed against the screen, jerking my pole like crazy.

Glen let go with sounds that I was afraid would be heard by the goddam cabins, though they were way too far away, and shot across his chest and some over his shoulder, groaning and jerking his body while still being pounded. I shot against the wall below the window, making a face print in the screen, and completely visible to both of them if they only turned and looked, and Mike went rigid and started to buck and blast into Glen's ass. The bunk bed was all over the place, square wooden legs sliding and lifting a little and booming down.

They collapsed onto the bunk, and after a minute, Mike said with an exhausted grin, "I LOVE doin' this... I just LOVE it! I love fuckin' my girlfriend, but I LOVE this...What the hell?! " Then he laughed a good laugh...

Glen just groaned a long, smiling groan. I just smiled the smile I'd been wearing all evening and backed down the stairs and headed for my cabin.

It was fun to watch, but you wouldn't put one of those goddam things into my poop chute, no way!

**************

Afterwords...

It always seems to anger a few gay guys and straight guys that I could have had so much dick play growing up, and still consider myself straight. This is just me and who I am. It was a sport, and we were good at it and thought it was rockin' good fun.

Now I've lived since that era as the straight guy that I am, but I know how much fun it is to laugh with a friend who is very much like you are, and suck that crazy rod. Someday I'll meet someone who I share a million other likes and dislikes with, and 69ing will grow out of that... I hope!

Raj Pepper

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