Like Old Times

“Another cold one, Mike?”

“You’re reading my mind.”

I poured another pair of porters, thankful that Americans had rediscovered good beer. Not
only are there local and regional breweries with some good varieties, but you can even get Sams, Blue Moons or Leinies just about anywhere.

“OK bud, how are American beers like making love in a canoe?”

Mike thought for a second, then gave up. I finished, “Both are fucking close to water.”

We both took a good draw on the porters. Mike smiled, which was good to see; he was
slowly recovering from the loss of his wife of thirty years – a stroke took her last year. I was in the same boat, but mine died in a car accident five years ago.

Mike said, “Hey, did you see that blonde walking down the street when we got here? Holy
shit, man…”.

“Yeah, she lives around the corner, and you should see the dipshit husband she has. Go
figure. He must be good in bed or something, he sure isn’t rich. Actually he looks like
a guy I knew from high school, except younger.” Another pause, longer this time, while I
thought of that guy.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh that guy I knew from high school.”

“Good friend?”

I hesistated, trying to decide how much of the story I was going to tell. I figured that
I could tell Mike anything. “Guy’s name was Mark. More than a friend, actually. Did you
ever experiment with other boys?”

Mike replied, “Didn’t every boy? Or almost all of us?”

“Yeah, until we got access to pussy.” That was good for a good laugh from both of us.

“Well, Mark was the last boy I messed around with. We kinda kept in touch for a while,
but faded apart in time.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to confess. “I had a regular thing going for a while with my
brother, then with a neighbor.”

For me, “I didn’t do stuff with other boys often, or a lot of them. But we did almost
everything that was doable.”

Mike told me their progression. He and his brother had played with themselves, then each
other, for a year or so. “It really was just experimentation, seeing what felt good,
maybe a bit of doing something we weren’t supposed to do. We’d take our pants down and
look at each other’s stiffies. I was about 13 and he was 11, and I had just started to
have orgasms, but not with him.”

I offered, “Similar with me. A friend invited me for a sleepover, and he introduced me to
playing around. He had a little dick, maybe about 3″, but he liked to do oral. So he
taught me to do blowjobs. Neither of us had orgasms, hell, not even any pubic hair, but
it was fun anyway.”

Mike went on with his tale. “Well, one time my brother and I were playing with each
other, and I lost it and came in his hand. I think that was a tad too involved for him,
he didn’t want to do anything sexual after that.”

Curiosity was gettting the best of me. “Did he have a littler dick than you?”

“Yeah, but it was nice; smooth, hard, nice color, just a little bit curved. Mine was
bigger, but pretty normal for a 13-year old – almost adult sized.”

It was similar with me, and I reminisced about my friend thinking I was so big, when I was
really just normal sized.