My Next Young Adventure Part 1
As with my other stories so far, I've pretty much just changed the names. I did have to obscure some details about the seminary and the trip, to prevent identification.
I stayed busy the rest of the school year and summer, exploring with my friends (that's for another post) and beyond giving a hand job to a very old, and very soft Father Murray after school one afternoon to keep my math grade up, I didn't have any further contact with teachers. And I kept my confessions to the routine sins… Otoh, I still have a thing for soft cocks ejaculating…
Things changed the following year with the appearance of Brother Joe (I know, I know -- BJ -- remember this was 50 years ago). He was 23 -- much younger than either Coach Adams or Father Bonair -- and he had an easygoing way about him -- always calm and cheerful. He was a little shorter than me at 5'9" and was trim and energetic. I thought we got along well, and would hang around after class and school to talk -- he was always receptive, and unlike Bonair, didn't make any moves on me sexually, which I appreciated. We spoke at great length about how he wasn't sure if he should take vows (you'll see why this conflict later on) and why he felt being a Brother was the right place for him.
As the weeks went on, I noticed a change in my grading from him -- I started getting A's, he would leave comments like, "This is wonderful, George!" and "I couldn't have said it better myself" on my essays and papers. For an attention-starved puppy like me, the comments and time were music to my ears -- BJ really knew what he was doing. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was falling for him hard and sexual thoughts about him started dominating my thinking.
We then started "private confession" sessions two or three times a week where we were free to discuss anything without fear of it being spread around. I really didn't want to advertise anything about Bonair or Adams, but I do remember things gradually moving towards the more sexual, as he probed about "bad thoughts" and the like and while I might put my hand on his thigh while we spoke, there was nothing physical. The ice breaker for me was the afternoon he asked me about the boner he'd seen tenting my uniform trousers during class earlier in the day. "Were you thinking about girls, George?" "No, Brother Joe." I stared down at my shoes. "Were you thinking about your classmates?" "No, Brother Joe…I…was thinking about kissing you and it happened." I still don't know where the chutzpah to tell him the truth came from, but although he returned with a calm, "Oh, I see," the wheels must have been turning in his head. He quickly changed the subject.
That night, I came to the realization that BJ had been secretly checking me out. Although not intentionally, my affection for him began to express itself in flirty behaviors, that, looking back were inappropriate at best. I stopped wearing underwear and just before his class would unzip my fly and grab a desk in front. I made sure he could get a nice view, which was quite a bit more dangerous than it sounds here -- not because of him, but if anyone else caught my shenanigans in class, I would have been hounded out of the school by my classmates. The edginess of all this simply added to the intensity of the experience. My first forbidden love...
He did spot what I was up to and our "Confession" sessions became much more direct. I begged him to take me into a bathroom stall and let me "put my mouth on your penis." "Pleeeze!" He steadfastly refused, saying he didn't want to get caught, and things pretty much stalled out there for quite a while. Then, one day, he asked if I wanted to accompany him to the seminary over Christmas break so that I could explore a possible vocation. Getting away from the parents for a couple weeks seemed like a huge win -- I didn't think about it in any other terms.
BJ clearly had other ideas. As we settled into a seat near the back of the Greyhound, he put a blanket across our laps. After the drive started, his right forearm went under the blanket, and I could feel it slide over my thigh to my crotch. Now, you'd think I'd be jumping for joy, but no, I firmly moved his hand away with my left -- and then every other time he tried it. Still not sure what I was thinking -- frustrated at having to wait for so long? Who knows. At first, he seemed surprised, but as I continued, his face grew darker and angrier and he stopped speaking. Half hour later, we hit our first stop, and I told him I had to use the toilet. He followed me into the men's room, which was surprisingly almost empty. As I turned to close the stall door behind me, he pushed it open, and I will never forget the look on his face -- I'd never really seen him upset at all, and what I saw that evening was pure fury. He pushed his way in; closed the door behind us; pushed me down on the toilet; and swiftly unzipped his trousers and stuck his cock in my face and then my mouth, pushing my face into the black fabric of his shirt and pants with both hands. He didn't say a word, just kept up a steady, quiet rhythm with my head bobbing back and forth. Fortunately for both of us, he wasn't too well endowed -- maybe 4-5 inches, with a small, pointed head and I was able to handle things physically.
Mentally was something else -- I had no idea what was going on. I was sexually quite aroused, but very lost, and a couple of minutes later, after he grunted and let rip a torrent down my throat (he must not have been masturbating for quite a few days prior), I'd had my first face fuck and full cum swallow. Again, without a word, he stuffed his cock back in his pants; zipped up and walked out of the stall, leaving me to finish my business. I've often wondered how many people heard and saw a cleric go in and out of an occupied stall in a small-town bus station that evening. Given his prior caution, I'm guessing he really must have lost his temper. As I sat there, trying to manage my thoughts, my hardon, pissing and trying to take a dump, I resolved to not make promises I couldn't keep, and to do whatever Brother Joe asked in the future.
When I returned to our seat, he was back to his normal cheery self, and this time when he put the blanket down and let his right hand start wandering, I didn't resist -- tbh, at this point, I needed the relief. He undid the button on my jeans, unzipped me and maybe 30 seconds later, I exploded inside my jeans and all over his hand. I felt a handkerchief dabbing around a bit, and he left it there. It was an 11-hour bus ride, and I think I brought him off a couple times, and he me, like three. It was messy, but we cleaned up in the restrooms at stops.
I stayed busy the rest of the school year and summer, exploring with my friends (that's for another post) and beyond giving a hand job to a very old, and very soft Father Murray after school one afternoon to keep my math grade up, I didn't have any further contact with teachers. And I kept my confessions to the routine sins… Otoh, I still have a thing for soft cocks ejaculating…
Things changed the following year with the appearance of Brother Joe (I know, I know -- BJ -- remember this was 50 years ago). He was 23 -- much younger than either Coach Adams or Father Bonair -- and he had an easygoing way about him -- always calm and cheerful. He was a little shorter than me at 5'9" and was trim and energetic. I thought we got along well, and would hang around after class and school to talk -- he was always receptive, and unlike Bonair, didn't make any moves on me sexually, which I appreciated. We spoke at great length about how he wasn't sure if he should take vows (you'll see why this conflict later on) and why he felt being a Brother was the right place for him.
As the weeks went on, I noticed a change in my grading from him -- I started getting A's, he would leave comments like, "This is wonderful, George!" and "I couldn't have said it better myself" on my essays and papers. For an attention-starved puppy like me, the comments and time were music to my ears -- BJ really knew what he was doing. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was falling for him hard and sexual thoughts about him started dominating my thinking.
We then started "private confession" sessions two or three times a week where we were free to discuss anything without fear of it being spread around. I really didn't want to advertise anything about Bonair or Adams, but I do remember things gradually moving towards the more sexual, as he probed about "bad thoughts" and the like and while I might put my hand on his thigh while we spoke, there was nothing physical. The ice breaker for me was the afternoon he asked me about the boner he'd seen tenting my uniform trousers during class earlier in the day. "Were you thinking about girls, George?" "No, Brother Joe." I stared down at my shoes. "Were you thinking about your classmates?" "No, Brother Joe…I…was thinking about kissing you and it happened." I still don't know where the chutzpah to tell him the truth came from, but although he returned with a calm, "Oh, I see," the wheels must have been turning in his head. He quickly changed the subject.
That night, I came to the realization that BJ had been secretly checking me out. Although not intentionally, my affection for him began to express itself in flirty behaviors, that, looking back were inappropriate at best. I stopped wearing underwear and just before his class would unzip my fly and grab a desk in front. I made sure he could get a nice view, which was quite a bit more dangerous than it sounds here -- not because of him, but if anyone else caught my shenanigans in class, I would have been hounded out of the school by my classmates. The edginess of all this simply added to the intensity of the experience. My first forbidden love...
He did spot what I was up to and our "Confession" sessions became much more direct. I begged him to take me into a bathroom stall and let me "put my mouth on your penis." "Pleeeze!" He steadfastly refused, saying he didn't want to get caught, and things pretty much stalled out there for quite a while. Then, one day, he asked if I wanted to accompany him to the seminary over Christmas break so that I could explore a possible vocation. Getting away from the parents for a couple weeks seemed like a huge win -- I didn't think about it in any other terms.
BJ clearly had other ideas. As we settled into a seat near the back of the Greyhound, he put a blanket across our laps. After the drive started, his right forearm went under the blanket, and I could feel it slide over my thigh to my crotch. Now, you'd think I'd be jumping for joy, but no, I firmly moved his hand away with my left -- and then every other time he tried it. Still not sure what I was thinking -- frustrated at having to wait for so long? Who knows. At first, he seemed surprised, but as I continued, his face grew darker and angrier and he stopped speaking. Half hour later, we hit our first stop, and I told him I had to use the toilet. He followed me into the men's room, which was surprisingly almost empty. As I turned to close the stall door behind me, he pushed it open, and I will never forget the look on his face -- I'd never really seen him upset at all, and what I saw that evening was pure fury. He pushed his way in; closed the door behind us; pushed me down on the toilet; and swiftly unzipped his trousers and stuck his cock in my face and then my mouth, pushing my face into the black fabric of his shirt and pants with both hands. He didn't say a word, just kept up a steady, quiet rhythm with my head bobbing back and forth. Fortunately for both of us, he wasn't too well endowed -- maybe 4-5 inches, with a small, pointed head and I was able to handle things physically.
Mentally was something else -- I had no idea what was going on. I was sexually quite aroused, but very lost, and a couple of minutes later, after he grunted and let rip a torrent down my throat (he must not have been masturbating for quite a few days prior), I'd had my first face fuck and full cum swallow. Again, without a word, he stuffed his cock back in his pants; zipped up and walked out of the stall, leaving me to finish my business. I've often wondered how many people heard and saw a cleric go in and out of an occupied stall in a small-town bus station that evening. Given his prior caution, I'm guessing he really must have lost his temper. As I sat there, trying to manage my thoughts, my hardon, pissing and trying to take a dump, I resolved to not make promises I couldn't keep, and to do whatever Brother Joe asked in the future.
When I returned to our seat, he was back to his normal cheery self, and this time when he put the blanket down and let his right hand start wandering, I didn't resist -- tbh, at this point, I needed the relief. He undid the button on my jeans, unzipped me and maybe 30 seconds later, I exploded inside my jeans and all over his hand. I felt a handkerchief dabbing around a bit, and he left it there. It was an 11-hour bus ride, and I think I brought him off a couple times, and he me, like three. It was messy, but we cleaned up in the restrooms at stops.
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