Teaching a New Dog ld Tricks

It was two weeks before my twenty second birthday when it had all started. I had always had a hunch that my grandfather and his close friend Connor weren't the hard drinking, hard working, hard fighting Irish men they tried to pretend they were. They definitely had a softer side and showed it quite often.

It all started innocently enough. A ruffling of my hair when Connor walked past me. He would occasionally squeeze my rosy cheeks after imbibing a few drinks on a Sunday afternoon. Connor also liked to Innocently massage my shoulders a lot.

This graduated to a few tickles here and there, frequent furtive leg fondling, and the squeezing of my butt at every opportune moment.

THE GAME - for in reality that was what it was - was enacted by my grandfather's best friend Connor, who was nearing his mid 60's at the time. I called him my 'uncle', even though he was in no way related to me.

My guardian and grandfather, who I referred to as Grad, had bought me up as his own since I had been ten years of age after my parents had been killed in a car accident. I am an only child, so it was either Grad or foster care.

Grad was completely oblivious to the increasing sexually charged activities afforded me, often not far from his presence, and in his house. Still Grad was blissfully unaware of what was occurring on a regular basis.

I am certainly not scarred in any way by my experiences. In fact I am and will always be eternally grateful for the opportunities, guidance and pleasure I received at the hands of my 'tutor'. I admit I was a late bloomer, and I want to thank my 'Uncle' for pointing me in the right direction.

I had always been fascinated by electronics and computing. As IT was starting to become a big thing, and I had the right skills, I had a thriving business operating from my home. I was milking it for all it was worth, as I suspected that one day quite soon the bubble would burst.

These fleeting, increasingly heightened moments of sexually charged sudden occurrences, stepped up a gear late one Sunday evening as I was grilling some bacon on toast.

As I stood attentively at the cooker grill monitoring my sizzling bacon, Connor approached me from behind and silently but firmly pressed himself against my buttocks. His hardness immediately produced a throbbing erection of my own.

Connor calmly grasped said stiffy through the contours of my track-suit bottoms and gently squeezed and rubbed repeatedly.

This all too fleeting moment only lasted about a minute. However, the memory was carefully filed in my jerk-off bank. It was retrieved and put to good use about 30 minutes later, as it has been on a regular basis ever since.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't seem to grasp the rules of THE GAME. I became more emboldened as time passed. Whenever I was alone with Connor in the kitchen, I tried to grab at his crotch, or fondle his butt.

This always resulted in either a rap on the knuckles or a slap across my face.

It appeared that he could touch but I couldn't. This seemed a little unfair to me. I wasn't too despondent as I was still amassing many scenarios for my jerk-off bank, and belatedly discovering my sexual preferences.

One rainy Sunday afternoon Grad had his heart set on sorting out the years of junk that had been collected and stored in our cellar. I had been roped in to help. It had been years since I had been in the cellar. The dim light was the same. The musty smell was the same.

In effect what happened was we just moved stuff from one pile to another, which would probably stay there untouched for another ten years.

Grad sat at an old table, with his back to Connor and myself, conducting operations, We both unearthed trash unenthusiastically and moved it from one pile to another.

After moving a heavy sideboard Connor and I were both temporarily pinned in a corner. I decided to chance my luck and l leaned heavily against Connor grasping for his crotch.

Connor didn't retract or chasten my impetus.

Emboldened by this non-repudiation, I maneuvered my hand down the front of Connor's trousers and cupped his rapidly hardening cock.

Still no further resistance.

I froze, not daring to move. Not daring to breathe. I could feel Connor's nice warm, throbbing, dick -- and it was wonderful.

I realized my next move was make or break. I reasoned I had already gotten further with Connor than I thought I ever would, and the boner I currently had was testament to where I'd gotten to date.

With that in mind I began to gently masturbate Connor, and give to him what he given to me so many times.

Connor succumbed and I was in heaven.

All thoughts of Grad, clearing the cellar, and work, was forgotten.

I am not unashamed to admit that the experience of tossing off Connor made me cum in my pants. As soon as a respectably decent amount of time had passed I fled from the cellar and headed for the bathroom to clean up.

Later that evening I had a greater surprise in store for me. Connor stayed for dinner, where no mention or allusion was made about our tryst. In fact, Grad chided Connor for not taking their cellar clearing enterprise seriously enough.

I was later instructed to retrieve Connor's bicycle from our garden shed when he was leaving, in order for him to cycle home.

To my great surprise and delight Connor gently pushed me back into the shed. I knew that something special was about to occur judging by the glint in his eyes.

Before I was fully unzipped I was rock hard again.

Pulling back my foreskin, Connor took my throbbing cock in his mouth and quite expertly gave me my first ever mind-blowing, blowjob. Like a professional, he swallowed the lot.

In his soft Irish brogue, Connor advised me over his shoulder as he pedaled away that I could do worse than to work on my hand-job technique.

The following weekend my cousin and her husband were christening their infant at our local church and I was expected to attend.

I, along with Grad and Connor sat through the an interminably long Catholic church service and actual christening.

Later there was a celebration event at our local social club. It turned out to be worth the agony of my previous hour and fifteen minutes of boredom.

Connor had obviously been at the sherry because as I exited the gentleman's rest room, Connor was waiting outside and single-mindedly pushed me back in, and into a vacant toilet area, slamming the door behind him with a flick of his heal.

I didn't think it at the time, but it was lucky the room was empty.

In anticipation of pleasures to come I was fully hard as Connor unzipped me and attempted to free my cock. When the current center of my world sprang free, a slight intake of breath escaped Connor's countenance.

I liked to think he was impressed with my size. It was probably because of how surreal the situation was becoming, and that we may be discovered at any moment.

Once Connor had control of my member, he played me like a violin. Tentative squeezing escalated into a few full length strokes to show who was in control. I just leaned back and let myself be masturbated to orgasm (this was obviously not the first time Connor had performed this kind of task. Expertly, Connor finished me off with few frantic strokes after building up and slowing down. Connor had successfully interpreted my ooows, aahhhs and moans to perfection, anticipating when I was likely to unload.

Following this 'event' which was conducted without a word being spoken, Connor left the cubicle, rinsed his hands, and sauntered out of the restroom. I leisurely cleaned up.

The next few months were very exciting for me.

We fell into a routine whereby I regularly received a blowjob from Connor -- which was usually in my bed on a Sunday morning when he called in after mass.

Conor would also fiercely masturbate me, or suck me off, in all sorts of inventive places, and in all manner of situations. It seems Connor couldn't wait to get his hands on my stiff cock whenever he could. He would pound it until I sprayed whatever surface happened to be nearby at the time, or he would give me ball-draining blow jobs..

Far from the bubble bursting on my chosen profession, my skills were in greater demand than ever, especially in countries that paid very well. I tentatively applied to a tech start-up in Silicon Valley, just outside San Francisco. They replied with a very generous job offer with relocation costs. I decided it was time to spread my wings and grasp this opportunity. I had learnt and experienced so much in the past eight months I just wanted to grow and grow.

Grad and Connor were both extremely pleased for me and wished me well.

On the evening of Saint Patrick's Day two days later, I heard a loud knocking on our front door. On opening it I encounter a very drunk Connor propping himself upright against the porch lintel. Staggering past me into the warmth of the lounge Connor stumbled in.

"Yer Grandfather'll be another couple of hours," slurred Connor.

With a grin and glint in his blurry eyes, Connor handed me a packet of condoms and announced, "Christmas had come early for you boy".

With that he let his coat slide to the floor. He dragged a high-backed chair towards him with his right hand. With his left hand he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall to the floor. He leaned forward and assumed the position.

I rushed into the kitchen in a state of excitement. Wildly opening cupboards, I finally found what I was looking for in the fridge. A tub of margarine was going to be employed as my emergency lube substitute.

Within seconds I was back readying myself for the event.

I didn't need to be told what to do.

In an instant I whipped out my stiff cock and liberally smothered it with margarine. Then I plunged towards my goal.

I managed to get control of myself and slow down accordingly. With just a little prodding and searching, with and a little assistance from Connor, I slid my boner in as far as it would go.

Having reached my nirvana of the moment, the realization I was actually fucking, plus the intense pleasure my lower parts were experiencing, I wanted it to last forever.

I had previously thought that when my first time did present itself, I would probably spend myself quite quickly. After all, losing your virginity was supposed to be the stuff of premature tales. Or so I'd heard.

Looking back though, I was quite proud of my performance. I found the ability to control my lunges and thrusts by increasing my rhythm as I banged away. We began to assume the characteristics of a horse ride. Connor did his part by moving in sequence to accommodate my timid strokes.

Starting quite slowly, I opted for more of a gradual build up rather than speeding up and slowing down. Connor slurred his encouragement with excited shouts of "That's it my boy," and "Give it to me".

When I did eventually reach the point of my climax, the ending was how I'd read it should be. The final three staccato thrusts were punctuated and underlined by what a good fuck I had just had.

As I slipped my limp cock out of Connor, I whispered "thank you for making this horny young man very happy."

"You're very welcome m'lad", slurred a still very out of it Connor.

In one ungracious move Conner pulled up his trousers and staggered towards the sofa.

I returned to the scene of the recent fulfilment of a long-cherished goal of mine, after putting back the margarine in the fridge. I felt like a man, with thoughts of a possible round two?

Connor lay on the sofa gently snoring.

Two weeks later I set off for San Francisco and never saw Grad or Connor again. I did occasionally write and telephone my 'family' and 'tutor', but we grew apart.

I still have extremely fond memories of my 'education' though.