CockHummer
Jul 23, 2022, 5:39 AM
I don't know why this came back to me recently. I hadn't thought about it for a long time. Once it popped into my head it made me stop to think, this is an interesting area potentially for discussion here. I will start with the personal memory that made me think of bringing the question up about people's potential experience of having ever been seduced. I always start out by apologizing, because I have a tendency to use a lot of words, but I have tried to write it so it reads like a story.
I was perhaps 18 at the time. I worked in a large, inner city pharmacy, where I tried to hook up with all the gals that worked there. I fantasized about cock, but I didn't generally find guys attractive, and the ones where I worked were both unattractive and notedly macho, so there would be no hooking up there. I was a hard worker and caught onto things fast, so the management were grooming me, while I took a pretty passive role, to become an assistant manager--a job that really did not interest me in the least for the long haul.
It was at a time when the economy was far worse even than people fear it is getting now, and I had no idea as yet what I wanted to do with my future. The one thing I had learned from doing that job, though, was that I was not interested in any sort of retail management position. I was truly clueless but at an age where I had to be thinking about what I would do with my future, so that very issue was on my mind a lot when this experience occurred.
I was done with my workday this one summer afternoon. It was a crazy time when I didn't yet have a car, so I would generally thumb a ride the fifteen miles from where I lived to the store in the morning and back home in the evening. As such, it made sense for me to wait until the evening traffic rush slowed down a bit, so that people would be more likely to pull over and pick me up. For that reason I was hanging out at the magazine rack in the front of the store, checking things out while I allowed some time to pass. It was a big drugstore in a busy part of town, so we sold magazines about practically anything in the world, and the managers were pigs, so they had all sorts of porn mags on the shelves right out in the open, where even young children could see them. We had a couple of magazines that always had pictures of gorgeous fat cocks on the front cover. For all I know, I started out gazing at one of those from a distance, but I don't know that. It was not something I did every day.
There's this other fellow there looking at a totally different sort of magazine, though, and it caught my eye--not the guy but the magazine. I've always loved the ocean and beaches, and he was looking at a magazine about yachts. It's a long time ago now, so I'm not sure, but I don't think I'd been standing there gawking at this guy's sailing magazine for much time at all. I'd probably looked over his shoulder for only a few seconds, barely having noticed it.
Out of nowhere, though, he suddenly turned to me, remarked on noticing me look at the mag he was holding, and asked me if I was interested in boats. I answered honestly, that I had had no experience with boats on the ocean but I loved the sea, and the boats in the magazine looked beautiful. Somehow, and I must think it might have been his intention for standing there looking at that particular periodical from the start, he asked me if I might like to work on a ship. I can no longer recall if it even occurred to me that he might be seducing me or if I might have even hoped he was. All I can say is the next thing I knew I was following this fellow that was possibly twice my age, like maybe in his mid-thirties, to his apartment, so that we could talk about me working as first mate on his boat. I had never seen that coming!
His apartment was only a block or two from the store. It was the lower floor of a small, two story building with one apartment set up on each floor. We walked up a small flight of stairs and in through his front door, and he directed me to sit in a simple wooden chair, like what one would ordinarily have set around the dinner table, but instead it was out in the middle of the large multi-purpose room that made up most of his apartment. I sat as instructed, and he disappeared for a moment to gather his photo album. I no longer recall any of the details of the boat depicted in the photos, but he claimed it was his boat and that he used it to pitch trips to women down in the Caribbean, and they paid good money for a special trip with a lot of extra attention from a captain and his first mate that were both men. He somehow needed a new first mate to assist him in his business, and I allowed myself to believe that my simply having been interested enough to gaze at the photos of boats in the magazine he had been looking in back at the store made me a good candidate for that position. Right? I was all ears.
I was also na?ve and stupid, at least in this context. I was not yet old enough to drink alcohol legally, and while I had had an occasional beer, I was not at all tolerant of alcohol, and he started feeding me beers, one after the other. Of course, I was happy to have this adult treating me "like an adult." I think he gave me four 12-ounce cans in about half an hour or so, and I was fairly tanked.
Now, I'm not sure what I thought when the next thing started unfolding. I mean, the clearest thought I had was that I must look absolutely ridiculous, but he insisted that he wanted to see what I would look like dressed as I would be in my costume on the boat, down in the Caribbean, with some colorful, flowered shirt unbuttoned down the front and wearing short, short pants, which were the rage at that time--well, at least as close as we could get to that under the circumstances. Of course, the best we could do was for me to untuck my shirt, unbutton it, and roll up the sleeves--it would have been an ordinary dress shirt and would not at all have resembled what he described we would be wearing for the sake of our all female clientele. Of course, the closest I could come to wearing short-shorts was to be wearing nothing but my undershorts, and my pants came off. I'm sitting there thinking I must look stupid as hell, pretending to be dressed as first mate on this ship, while I'm pretty well tanked and this stranger is talking about the services we would be providing to our all female clientele on his amazing ship. I was buying it. I mean, I don't think I felt I could be certain what he was telling me was true, but helping sale a ship in the Caribbean would beat the shit out of working as an assistant manager at the fricking drugstore in a New England city. I allowed myself to believe the story he was feeding me, and it sounded like it would be a lot of fun.
So, now I'm drunk and half-naked. I can no longer recall for sure about this, but it had been two years or so since I had had sex with my male best friend in the neighborhood back home, and I had taken to fantasizing a lot about having sex with other men when I jerked off. This guy did not turn me off like the other guys I worked with, and I have to suspect that it wasn't long before I got horny and I was sitting there with a boner, hoping that this would turn into something more than what we had discussed up to that point, at the same time I felt silly sitting there dressed as I was and knowing my erection was obvious. Let's just say it wasn't long before my hope was at least partially fulfilled.
This is where it went. The next thing I know, he changes the subject and tells me he's been working on a massage that he wants to perform on his girlfriend, but he wonders if I would allow him to practice it on me, so he'd be really prepared when he gets to do it for her. I honestly don't recall how likely I thought it was that this was going to turn out to be something sexual, but it did, and it was GOOD. In fact, he only jerked me off, but it was the most intense masturbation I have ever experienced. He had me lie down on the floor on my back and lift up my butt so he could pull my briefs off. The next thing I know, he is massaging my cock while barely touching it. It was like instead of feeling actual contact, for the most part I was just feeling the heat emanating from the skin of his hand, and it was intense. He had me close my eyes, and I could feel his hand encircling my erect cock and running up and down its full length, slowly and somehow intensely, without there being more than the most subtle and occasional direct contact whatsoever. In all honesty, I don't even know if the intensity of it had anything to do with the unusual technique (although I suspect it did, or else why would he do it like that?) or if it was just me being on an erotic high because I was finally sexually involved with another man.
Things went downhill from there, though. I was plainly sexually excited and had made up my mind that I was going to allow myself to go through with it. I thought for sure he would end up naked, too, and I would get to play with and suck his cock, and I couldn't wait to see it and feel it and suck it. I wanted to see what his balls were like, how he smelled, and how he tasted. I wondered if he was going to want to fuck me in the ass, and just the idea of seeing what that was all about got me yet more excited.
As it turned out, none of that happened. It started with a really unusual experience that I have never otherwise had in my life, where with some distraction after he stopped the "massage," my erection went limp, but I was still so excited in my mind, that he took hold of my cock and started stroking it again, and I was so turned on that I came within a couple of seconds, before I even became erect again. That is the only time in my life that has ever happened to me. I was young enough that that would not have been the end of things, though. At least I'd not have expected so. Back then, my refractory period was so short that there were days when I could jerk off like seven times, and having a partner with a cock would likely have gotten me excited again even faster than usual, or at least I thought so.
No, the fact that I had already cum was not what brought it to an end. It was something that he did that scared me. I don't even know if it should have, but it confused me and I didn't get it. He had spread out a couple of blankets on the floor, and it was clear that the plan was for us to fuck right there, protected from the hard wood floor of his large, multipurpose room only by just a couple of thicknesses of heavy blanket, but I was okay with that. I couldn't wait for the two of us to be naked together on the floor and playing with each other's genitals. I knew that once I saw his cock standing at attention, I would be going crazy erotically! I was so happy to have had his magazine catch my eye, only to end up with the two of us together, horny and on the verge of fucking.
The problem was this. We got down on the floor next to each other fully dressed. I figured we might help each other undress--not that either of us would need help, but there would be something especially horny about actively working on stripping another guy to get his cock out in the open, where I could take full advantage of it. I wanted to strip him.
Then, out of nowhere, he asked me to turn away from him and to not look back at what he was doing. It was just that. I didn't know what it meant, but even moderately intoxicated, something didn't seem right about a guy I'm about to have sex with wanting me to not see anything he is doing. On some level, it even scared me a bit. I really don't know for sure just what I feared, but it ruined the whole thing. I think I was so disappointed I even started crying! But I got up onto my knees and then onto my feet, and I told him I didn't want to do it anymore. I don't think we discussed it. I might have used the excuse that I wanted to be straight, so I didn't want to get started having sex with other men, but that was not exactly true. It was an excuse I offered rather than to be honest about what had just happened and how it affected me. In any event, I got my clothing arranged promptly, I apologized, and I was out the door. I recall, once things had settled down in my head, passing a few days wishing I could get a second chance with him, and we would have sex after all, whether the boat and the business existed or not, but I never saw him again, in the store or in his apartment.
I walked back to the store to gather my stuff, and then walked to where I could thumb a ride home, as usual. Of all the crazy things, I got picked up fairly promptly by this really weird looking guy who gave me these goofy looks and appeared to be jerking off, with his hand hidden behind a bulky sweater. He went as far as getting off the highway at the other end of the trip and even went out of his way a couple of miles off the highway, to drop me off near my house. He would have brought me all the way there, but I didn't want him to know just where I lived, because I was afraid to even get in his car at the outset, with his appearance and how openly he was jerking off, while apparently thinking I wouldn't know. Neither of us said a word during the roughly twenty-minute ride, aside from me thanking him (for not raping or killing me, as well as for the ride) when he dropped me off. It was so bizarre to have had two older men get their eyes on me that same day. It never happened again, at least that I know of.
The one good, lasting thing I got from the experience was the idea of masturbating the same way that "the sailor" had stroked my cock while barely touching it (purportedly in preparation for giving his girlfriend a massage?), and it felt every bit as good when after that experience I did it like that for myself. Of course, part of what made it feel especially exciting was that I would fantasize that it was him jerking me off like that again, whenever I did it that way.
I was perhaps 18 at the time. I worked in a large, inner city pharmacy, where I tried to hook up with all the gals that worked there. I fantasized about cock, but I didn't generally find guys attractive, and the ones where I worked were both unattractive and notedly macho, so there would be no hooking up there. I was a hard worker and caught onto things fast, so the management were grooming me, while I took a pretty passive role, to become an assistant manager--a job that really did not interest me in the least for the long haul.
It was at a time when the economy was far worse even than people fear it is getting now, and I had no idea as yet what I wanted to do with my future. The one thing I had learned from doing that job, though, was that I was not interested in any sort of retail management position. I was truly clueless but at an age where I had to be thinking about what I would do with my future, so that very issue was on my mind a lot when this experience occurred.
I was done with my workday this one summer afternoon. It was a crazy time when I didn't yet have a car, so I would generally thumb a ride the fifteen miles from where I lived to the store in the morning and back home in the evening. As such, it made sense for me to wait until the evening traffic rush slowed down a bit, so that people would be more likely to pull over and pick me up. For that reason I was hanging out at the magazine rack in the front of the store, checking things out while I allowed some time to pass. It was a big drugstore in a busy part of town, so we sold magazines about practically anything in the world, and the managers were pigs, so they had all sorts of porn mags on the shelves right out in the open, where even young children could see them. We had a couple of magazines that always had pictures of gorgeous fat cocks on the front cover. For all I know, I started out gazing at one of those from a distance, but I don't know that. It was not something I did every day.
There's this other fellow there looking at a totally different sort of magazine, though, and it caught my eye--not the guy but the magazine. I've always loved the ocean and beaches, and he was looking at a magazine about yachts. It's a long time ago now, so I'm not sure, but I don't think I'd been standing there gawking at this guy's sailing magazine for much time at all. I'd probably looked over his shoulder for only a few seconds, barely having noticed it.
Out of nowhere, though, he suddenly turned to me, remarked on noticing me look at the mag he was holding, and asked me if I was interested in boats. I answered honestly, that I had had no experience with boats on the ocean but I loved the sea, and the boats in the magazine looked beautiful. Somehow, and I must think it might have been his intention for standing there looking at that particular periodical from the start, he asked me if I might like to work on a ship. I can no longer recall if it even occurred to me that he might be seducing me or if I might have even hoped he was. All I can say is the next thing I knew I was following this fellow that was possibly twice my age, like maybe in his mid-thirties, to his apartment, so that we could talk about me working as first mate on his boat. I had never seen that coming!
His apartment was only a block or two from the store. It was the lower floor of a small, two story building with one apartment set up on each floor. We walked up a small flight of stairs and in through his front door, and he directed me to sit in a simple wooden chair, like what one would ordinarily have set around the dinner table, but instead it was out in the middle of the large multi-purpose room that made up most of his apartment. I sat as instructed, and he disappeared for a moment to gather his photo album. I no longer recall any of the details of the boat depicted in the photos, but he claimed it was his boat and that he used it to pitch trips to women down in the Caribbean, and they paid good money for a special trip with a lot of extra attention from a captain and his first mate that were both men. He somehow needed a new first mate to assist him in his business, and I allowed myself to believe that my simply having been interested enough to gaze at the photos of boats in the magazine he had been looking in back at the store made me a good candidate for that position. Right? I was all ears.
I was also na?ve and stupid, at least in this context. I was not yet old enough to drink alcohol legally, and while I had had an occasional beer, I was not at all tolerant of alcohol, and he started feeding me beers, one after the other. Of course, I was happy to have this adult treating me "like an adult." I think he gave me four 12-ounce cans in about half an hour or so, and I was fairly tanked.
Now, I'm not sure what I thought when the next thing started unfolding. I mean, the clearest thought I had was that I must look absolutely ridiculous, but he insisted that he wanted to see what I would look like dressed as I would be in my costume on the boat, down in the Caribbean, with some colorful, flowered shirt unbuttoned down the front and wearing short, short pants, which were the rage at that time--well, at least as close as we could get to that under the circumstances. Of course, the best we could do was for me to untuck my shirt, unbutton it, and roll up the sleeves--it would have been an ordinary dress shirt and would not at all have resembled what he described we would be wearing for the sake of our all female clientele. Of course, the closest I could come to wearing short-shorts was to be wearing nothing but my undershorts, and my pants came off. I'm sitting there thinking I must look stupid as hell, pretending to be dressed as first mate on this ship, while I'm pretty well tanked and this stranger is talking about the services we would be providing to our all female clientele on his amazing ship. I was buying it. I mean, I don't think I felt I could be certain what he was telling me was true, but helping sale a ship in the Caribbean would beat the shit out of working as an assistant manager at the fricking drugstore in a New England city. I allowed myself to believe the story he was feeding me, and it sounded like it would be a lot of fun.
So, now I'm drunk and half-naked. I can no longer recall for sure about this, but it had been two years or so since I had had sex with my male best friend in the neighborhood back home, and I had taken to fantasizing a lot about having sex with other men when I jerked off. This guy did not turn me off like the other guys I worked with, and I have to suspect that it wasn't long before I got horny and I was sitting there with a boner, hoping that this would turn into something more than what we had discussed up to that point, at the same time I felt silly sitting there dressed as I was and knowing my erection was obvious. Let's just say it wasn't long before my hope was at least partially fulfilled.
This is where it went. The next thing I know, he changes the subject and tells me he's been working on a massage that he wants to perform on his girlfriend, but he wonders if I would allow him to practice it on me, so he'd be really prepared when he gets to do it for her. I honestly don't recall how likely I thought it was that this was going to turn out to be something sexual, but it did, and it was GOOD. In fact, he only jerked me off, but it was the most intense masturbation I have ever experienced. He had me lie down on the floor on my back and lift up my butt so he could pull my briefs off. The next thing I know, he is massaging my cock while barely touching it. It was like instead of feeling actual contact, for the most part I was just feeling the heat emanating from the skin of his hand, and it was intense. He had me close my eyes, and I could feel his hand encircling my erect cock and running up and down its full length, slowly and somehow intensely, without there being more than the most subtle and occasional direct contact whatsoever. In all honesty, I don't even know if the intensity of it had anything to do with the unusual technique (although I suspect it did, or else why would he do it like that?) or if it was just me being on an erotic high because I was finally sexually involved with another man.
Things went downhill from there, though. I was plainly sexually excited and had made up my mind that I was going to allow myself to go through with it. I thought for sure he would end up naked, too, and I would get to play with and suck his cock, and I couldn't wait to see it and feel it and suck it. I wanted to see what his balls were like, how he smelled, and how he tasted. I wondered if he was going to want to fuck me in the ass, and just the idea of seeing what that was all about got me yet more excited.
As it turned out, none of that happened. It started with a really unusual experience that I have never otherwise had in my life, where with some distraction after he stopped the "massage," my erection went limp, but I was still so excited in my mind, that he took hold of my cock and started stroking it again, and I was so turned on that I came within a couple of seconds, before I even became erect again. That is the only time in my life that has ever happened to me. I was young enough that that would not have been the end of things, though. At least I'd not have expected so. Back then, my refractory period was so short that there were days when I could jerk off like seven times, and having a partner with a cock would likely have gotten me excited again even faster than usual, or at least I thought so.
No, the fact that I had already cum was not what brought it to an end. It was something that he did that scared me. I don't even know if it should have, but it confused me and I didn't get it. He had spread out a couple of blankets on the floor, and it was clear that the plan was for us to fuck right there, protected from the hard wood floor of his large, multipurpose room only by just a couple of thicknesses of heavy blanket, but I was okay with that. I couldn't wait for the two of us to be naked together on the floor and playing with each other's genitals. I knew that once I saw his cock standing at attention, I would be going crazy erotically! I was so happy to have had his magazine catch my eye, only to end up with the two of us together, horny and on the verge of fucking.
The problem was this. We got down on the floor next to each other fully dressed. I figured we might help each other undress--not that either of us would need help, but there would be something especially horny about actively working on stripping another guy to get his cock out in the open, where I could take full advantage of it. I wanted to strip him.
Then, out of nowhere, he asked me to turn away from him and to not look back at what he was doing. It was just that. I didn't know what it meant, but even moderately intoxicated, something didn't seem right about a guy I'm about to have sex with wanting me to not see anything he is doing. On some level, it even scared me a bit. I really don't know for sure just what I feared, but it ruined the whole thing. I think I was so disappointed I even started crying! But I got up onto my knees and then onto my feet, and I told him I didn't want to do it anymore. I don't think we discussed it. I might have used the excuse that I wanted to be straight, so I didn't want to get started having sex with other men, but that was not exactly true. It was an excuse I offered rather than to be honest about what had just happened and how it affected me. In any event, I got my clothing arranged promptly, I apologized, and I was out the door. I recall, once things had settled down in my head, passing a few days wishing I could get a second chance with him, and we would have sex after all, whether the boat and the business existed or not, but I never saw him again, in the store or in his apartment.
I walked back to the store to gather my stuff, and then walked to where I could thumb a ride home, as usual. Of all the crazy things, I got picked up fairly promptly by this really weird looking guy who gave me these goofy looks and appeared to be jerking off, with his hand hidden behind a bulky sweater. He went as far as getting off the highway at the other end of the trip and even went out of his way a couple of miles off the highway, to drop me off near my house. He would have brought me all the way there, but I didn't want him to know just where I lived, because I was afraid to even get in his car at the outset, with his appearance and how openly he was jerking off, while apparently thinking I wouldn't know. Neither of us said a word during the roughly twenty-minute ride, aside from me thanking him (for not raping or killing me, as well as for the ride) when he dropped me off. It was so bizarre to have had two older men get their eyes on me that same day. It never happened again, at least that I know of.
The one good, lasting thing I got from the experience was the idea of masturbating the same way that "the sailor" had stroked my cock while barely touching it (purportedly in preparation for giving his girlfriend a massage?), and it felt every bit as good when after that experience I did it like that for myself. Of course, part of what made it feel especially exciting was that I would fantasize that it was him jerking me off like that again, whenever I did it that way.