Students have fun (we were 19 and 22years old)

Peter was 19 and I was 22. Our first time.

I was 22 when something happened that allowed my suppressed love for other young men to unfold.
I was studying at the time and lived on campus with about 60 other blokes whose ages ranged from 18 to about 30. A small handful of those were my closest friends who I’d drink and spend free time with. One of those in particular was Peter who was 3 years younger than me. I remember the first time we met on the campus; our eyes locked and the connection we experienced was palpable. It was the kind of energy that brings people together as good friends.

It was early February when we first met and that time of year is still very hot and humid in Brisbane. I came from a small inland town not far from the coast so as well as helping out on my parent’s farm I spent free time at the beach. The consequence was my collar length blond hair had a sun-bleached look and my skinny body was well tanned. I remember I was so thin that people joked I could hide behind a telegraph pole and not be seen. Peter on the other hand was more toned and had well-groomed jet-black hair to compliment his handsome features.

Our friendship grew over the months and Peter and I often studied together. In hindsight we did this more to be in each other’s company rather than either of us needing any academic support from the other.

Those four or five months that passed since meeting meant the weather was cold. The campus style building had little design to keep its occupants warm because the majority of the months were mild or hot in this city. All we needed to do was wear an extra layer of warm clothes for the short winter.

The particular night that changed my life was much colder because of a southerly breeze. I was lying on Peter’s bed reading the required text while Peter sat at his desk making notes. A simple shiver is all it took. Peter grabbed a blanket and jumped on the bed beside me throwing it over us in one motion. He joked that we can’t study if we were cold and shivering. I had put down the study book as the blanket settled and I ran my hand vigorously over Peter’s arms and legs to warm him up. We both laughed nervously how nice it was and I used that as a signal to keep going. When we were both warm I was lying on my right side facing Peter who was lying on his back. I had conveniently kept my left hand on his stomach as we discussed something irrelevant which was a distraction to what was happening under the blanket.

As we talked I moved my hand slowly in a circular motion over his stomach yet still on top of his jumper. It turns out that during the vigorous warm up Peter’s jumper and shirt had moved up his body so there was an area of skin exposed below his belly button yet still hidden from site under the blanket. It was my fingers that found this skin as the circular motion of my massaging hand got larger. I was getting braver with my actions so rather than pull my hand away in fright I gently and more slowly moved my fingers over the skin of his belly. I detected a slight groan as we continued talking; both of us pretending that what was happening under the blanket wasn’t actually happening.

I knew from our time in the swimming pool a few months earlier that Peter had a black velvety snail trail that stopped at his belly button. I was nervous about what I was doing but I was really enjoying the feel of my fingers running through the trail. I slowly pushed my fingers further down until they were caressing the bit of skin near the top section of Peter’s pants. That’s when it was confirmed that Peter was enjoying this as much as I was. My fingers had found a slightly moist sensation and I intuitively knew his cock was hard and the head was poking at his waist band. I’ve never been a big producer of pre-cum so I enjoyed the new sensation that allowed my fingers to slide easily back and forth over his narrow snail trail.
I concentrated my attention on his skin near the waist band and slowly moved my fingers under the band to “accidentally” touch the tip of his cock with each passing of my fingers. By this stage Peter had gone quiet and had his eyes closed. This made me even braver as I hovered in the moist area that was beginning to get quite wet. I made sure my fingertips collected some of his wetness and slid them further under the waist band to caress his swollen cock head for the first time. This made his cock stand to attention and gave me the opportunity to get more of my hand into his pants. My fingers were able to move up and down his nob, stopping at the rim of the head and returning back up towards the slit. I also moved my fingers in a twisting motion so the nob was getting a good silky caressing. During this time I was deliberately ensuring the shaft was getting ignored.

I know what I like when I play with myself so I did the same to Peter. I moved my fingers off his nob and ran my fingernails very slowly down his erection. The skin was very tight which told me his cock was full mast. This was confirmed by the pulsing movement of his cock rising and falling as I continued the slow movement up and down the shaft with my nails. I resisted the temptation to take hold of his cock and then concentrated my gentle nail scratching movements on his sack. As I moved them around the free moving pouch it was unavoidable that the skin of my fingers actually caressed the skin of his ball sack so I gave up on the nail massage. I sensuously caressed the lightly haired skin and rolled both pills around in my fingers. As I did this I could feel Peter’s involuntary pulling of his nuts closer to his body as his cock pulsed harder.

Time to go back to the shaft I thought. It was here that I finally took the matter in hand. Taking a grip of his cock allowed me to tell that his shaft was much thinner than mine. I knew my cock was thick but this cock was significantly narrower and I was enjoying moving my closed fist up and down a cock so different to mine. I hate dry wanks so I made sure to gather as much of the pre-cum off Peter’s belly so he too could enjoy the pleasure of a lubricated session.

I’m sure I only completed about ten strokes of a proper full-length wanking motion when I identified some signs in Peter that I have when I’m about to cum. The shaft of his cock was taut, his balls were pulled up close to the base of his shaft, his legs were stretched, and his belly was pulled in. Stroke eleven found my hand covered in a slather of a warm, wet silky goo. I eased off on the wanking motion and a few seconds later his orgasmic spasms were over.

Peter appeared to feel awkward as the sex haze left him and I definitely had a sense of guilt. My god, what if he hates me for what I just did? I moved my hand out from under the blanket still not knowing what his cock looked like but I certainly knew what his cum felt like because it was webbed between my fingers. As much as I wanted to I didn’t dare taste or smell it in front of him. He moved off the bed and I sat up and caught the pair of his dirty undies he threw at me to wipe my hand clean. At that point I stood up and moved to the door of his room. The only words spoken was a good night farewell from each of us. I went straight to my room full of fear and guilt rather than joy at my first gay experience.

It was the next day when we saw each other that I knew things were ok between us because I was asked if I wanted to study together again that night. I instantly smiled, gave an affirming nod, and fantasised about what that thin shaft would be like in my tight arse. In twelve hours I’d potentially have the opportunity to find out.