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I was eighteen, let’s say, the first time I tasted cock. I dropped to my knees, fumbled nervously with the zip, glanced up for a second at his face, and then pulled his soft cock out into the air. I stared at it and I thought: I must be gay. It looked amazing. Maybe four inches long, not so soft anymore, with a tuft of light brown hair above it, a few wisps around the top of the shaft, and then two big, hairy, low-hanging balls below. My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I leaned forward and kissed the smooth skin of his cock. It was so warm. I heard a small gasp above me, and I was a little braver. I stuck out my tongue and licked slowly up along the shaft. Fuck. My heart hammered. We weren’t supposed to be doing this. I brought my hands up to cup his ass. Goose-pimpled skin against my hands, and then I leaned forward and took the head totally into my mouth.

It was warm and heavy on my tongue. There was the taste of his skin, and the brand new taste of pre-cum, slowly seeping into my mouth. I sucked hungrily, and felt a rough hand in my hair, drawing me closer, pulling more and more hard cock into my mouth. And I loved it. I held his ass in my hands and moved my mouth back and forth, dragging my tongue against the underside of the shaft, leaving it wet and shiny with my spit. I brought my head back until the head was sitting on my lips, and I kissed the tip, gently sucking out the flavour of his cock. It was new to me, and delicious. I sucked him for a while like this, my lips parting over the fat, thick head, before I sank all the way to his balls, bumping the head against my throat, and making gagging, gulping noises as I tried to swallow this new cock whole. Hard, it was just over five inches long, but wonderfully thick. It curved upwards, and slightly to the left. It was mine.

I don’t really know how it started. We had been friends for a couple of years, his mother knew my mother, and I had seen his older brothers in school. That summer we had started playing golf together, heading out in the evening when the course was quiet, usually with his father in tow, but more often just the two of us. We were 18, and constantly horny. I think now canlı bahis şirketleri that it all began with a bet. The loser on this hole has to drop his pants and streak for twenty yards. Out loud, we were both so innocent about it — “it’s only a dare, don’t be a coward” — but the undercurrent of nakedness made my heart pound. I lost, and pushed my trousers to the ground. I lifted my t-shirt and half ran, half stumbled, with my pants around my ankles, for twenty yards. My soft cock was bouncing as I went, and I could feel his eyes on my bare, smooth ass. We laughed and moved on, but it was different. Our hungry, desperate horniness had bubbled up the surface.

Two or three holes later we were at it again. The loser on this hole has to shake his cock in the air for 30 seconds. I lost once more, and this time we went into the trees. There was a small wood behind the green, with a gravel path only the green-keepers used. We walked up, pulling our golf carts behind us, innocently talking, about anything and everything. You could hear the nervousness in our voices. Around a bend or two we came to a stop. There was awkward stop-start conversation, before I said “I suppose I’ll just pull it out and do it, and you can see?” He nodded. I dropped my trousers again, pushing my underwear down with them, and stood in front of him with my cock out. I lifted my t-shirt with one hand, and with my heart beating, I started twirling my soft cock in the other. I could see him staring. Standing out in the open, with a soft cold breeze touching me, I loved it. My cock grew harder in my hand, and the 30 seconds was up. I stood there, gently touching myself, and didn’t bother with my pants. The dares were over and we both knew it. I tugged softly on the shaft, and my cock hardened fully. It hung out in front of me, much longer than his, but not half as thick. “Nice cock,” he said. Then he unbuttoned his pants, shoved them down, and gave me the first look at his. That afternoon we stayed in the trees and masturbated for each other, stroking our hard cocks until we shot warm, sticky cum all over the gravel path.

The day after that, we were back, hurrying through the first 6 holes canlı kaçak iddaa in nervous excitement, before we came to the trees on the seventh. We didn’t have to say much this time; he just followed me up the path. Less than 24 hours after I had seen my first hard cock, and less than an hour after we had said goodbye to his father on the first tee, I was on my knees sucking.

From then on, that was how we played golf. Sometimes we didn’t even get as far as the seventh. On the third hole, there was another group of trees, and it was there one summer evening I got my cock sucked for the first time. My friend dropped to his knees quickly – there was no nervousness between us now, only hungry, dirty horniness — and took me into his warm, wet mouth. It was absolutely fantastic. Five minutes of steady sucking, and I was on my tip-toes, arching my back, clenching my ass cheeks in his hands, and shooting thick hot cum down his throat. He swallowed it all. Neither of us said it out loud, but both of us loved sucking cock more than being sucked. I thought it was maybe a little strange, but neither of us thought of checking the internet, or searching for a name. We didn’t know it, but we were both horny little bottoms.

The summer continued the same way. We waved innocently goodbye to his father in the golf course car park, before rushing around the course, and into the trees. Our pants came off, and we took turns on our knees, sucking delicious cock. It didn’t take us long to discover the 69, and our first time was on the ninth hole, half in the trees, and half out. I lay on my back and waited impatiently for him to settle himself on top of me. He knelt either side of my head, and I reached up for his cock, pulling it down and into my mouth. I loved his taste. I let his cock sit on my tongue, or push deep into my throat. Then there were his balls, which were big and soft, and could be swirled around in my mouth, one by one, or licked slowly, while I played with him. I also discovered his ass. I loved to run my hands over it, gently squeezing each cheek, or even kneeling behind him and kissing them. When I was horny as hell, I would spend ages just licking him, rolling canlı kaçak bahis my tongue up and down the cheeks, and delving between them to taste the top of his crack. I wasn’t brave enough yet for his pink, winking asshole. Some days we would hide in the trees, taking turns at slow sucking, and watching through the gaps as middle-aged men played golf only twenty yards away.

As horny as we were, we didn’t always play on the course. Now and then, when we were mad for cock, and a little reckless, we would suck each other off in the golf club locker room. There were two doors, each with a large pane of frosted glass, which gave us about 5 seconds warning if somebody was about to walk in. We took turns sitting on the benches, or kneeling on the floor, greedily sucking cock until our mouths were filled with cum. It wasn’t said out loud, but I knew we were becoming addicted. We were two shy bi boys, and it was so much easier to suck each other, than chase after girls. More than once, we had a close call; somebody walking lightly on their feet would come in almost unawares, but we always had time to twist away from one another, lift our pants, or hold a towel in front of ourselves and walk into the showers. Looking back on these days I can’t believe we took so many risks. I don’t think we cared. We had nowhere else to suck cock, and we loved it.

The biggest risk we ever took was with his father. In winter, the nights were shorter, and any game of golf had to be straight after school, usually with his father playing too. We were both hungry for cock, desperately horny, and in the mood for taking a risk. One evening on the way home, when it was already dark, we sat in the back of the car, with a golf bag across our laps, and talked absentmindedly with his father. At the same time, with our minds racing, we opened our pants, and secretly stroked each other’s cocks. Now and then, with his father watching the road, we would take turns to duck down, our hearts roaring in our heads, and suck each other. That was the only time I received a mouthful of the son’s cum a few minutes before I said goodbye and thanks to the father.

By November, the golf had come to a close, with the Irish wind and rain beating us off the course, and closing the clubhouse when we wanted somewhere to sit. We were finished, but just for now. Both of us had a taste for it, and there was still a question hanging between us: when were we going to fuck?

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