Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

Los Angeles-- My most memorable ongoing scene when I was a teenager was with my twin brother's best friend, Scott.

He was part Indian, which accounts for his huge fat nine-inch cock. He always bragged about how big his dick was. At first, things weren't sexual between us, but one day I walked into his bedroom after school and caught him face down, humping himself against the sheets while looking at a spread in Playboy. I remember the girl had red hair and green eyes.

He seemed shocked at first but then wanted me to hide in the closet and watch, silently, while he jacked himself on the bed, shooting a huge thick load of cream all over the sheets.

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I will always get off on the image of his big humpy bubble butt pumping up and down over and over.

From the very start I wanted to get my face in that ass crack and lick his jock asshole, but that wouldn't come until later on.

We soon progressed from there and things got more intense. We'd be swimming in his pool in the backyard on the weekend when his parents weren't around and I asked him, very seriously, "Do you want a blow job?"

He tried to laugh it off, but I knew he was hooked the moment I mentioned it. So I bobbed underwater and put my mouth on the big mushroom head of his now rock-hard cock.

Soon we moved from the pool to his bedroom. We always had the same routine: he would draw the drapes and put a chair underneath the doorknob so he felt safe and no one could come in to catch us.

After that, I must have sucked him off virtually every other day for about three years, all through high school until our senior year. He was a total oversexed ladies' man who needed to get off often. I don't think he thought of himself as gay. We never talked about it. We just did it. He liked to get on his side and fuck my face for like a half an hour at a time until my lips and mouth and throat would go numb. He told me that he would be thinking about plowing some hot girl at school. But it was always my mouth he used to dump his load into.

Then he got bolder. He soon wanted to tie me up to a chair. He used either a bandanna or a belt or some fishing line from his Dad's toolbox. He would tie it really tight so it almost hurt and then blindfold me and then tease me with that fat pole of his, the thick head dripping. He would put just the head in my mouth and then when I was sucking on it, pull it out and slap my face with it. I couldn't see a thing so I became a bit disoriented. He would alternate between shoving his cock in my mouth and slapping it on my eyes, cheeks, etc. Then he would back up and shove his big ass into my face until my nose and mouth were around his hole. He wasn't always that clean-- in fact he always had a bit of BO and musty/shitty smell, but that turned me on more.

He would always whimper and pant when my tongue hit his asshole and worked its way inside. Soon he was shoving his ass against my face, smothering me with his ass.

Then he would jack off and shoot all over my face, telling me to eat it all. Things like, "Yeah, eat that fucking load, cocksucker," or "How does that load taste?"

Other times he would get into things like food-- once he made me drizzle honey all over his dick and then lap it off; the same thing with Hershey's chocolate syrup.

Then he wanted to shove his Bic pen into my asshole. I didn't like it but I got off on the fact that he was into it.

We used to swap porno movies and get all turned on, but I wasn't really into the movies-- I only waited until he got so worked up he would pull his cock out of his jeans and guide my head onto it.

One time after he had fucked my face (he was doing push-ups over me, his dick sliding in and out of my wide open mouth), Scott asked me to fuck him. I was stunned and kind of laughed it off, but to this day I wish I would have pushed it more. I think he wanted to try more stuff but was afraid he might be turning faggot or something. I didn't care what he thought as long as I got his cock all to myself. I think I am the only guy he ever had sex with.

Another time he would have me take a warm washcloth and lovingly wash his dick and then this would lead to another blow job or me eating his ass, with him bracing his body against the shower door.

At school he was kind of dumb, with a conceited ego, and I thought he was a total asshole, but I stayed pals with him only so I could have that steady supply of dick.

Sometimes we would drive around the hills and he would pretend like he was kidnapping me, tie up my body, and then fuck my face in the back seat of his Mom's Cadillac.

I remember he always had this really strong crotch smell. Not bad, just intense. The kind of smell you think a dock worker or construction worker might have.

The most memorable blow job I ever gave him was when I coaxed him into walking into the fig orchards by our house. We climbed up into a tree and found a branch to sit on. I pulled his already hard cock | out of his pants and began to suck. I would look up at his face-- the head cocked back, the mouth hung open, the eyes glazed over in lust. Sometimes he squeezed his eyes shut. He was so into getting his dick sucked, nothing else mattered.

One time when we were in the middle of it, his Mom barged in and we made up some lame excuse about we were arm-wrestling or working out or something. Total bullshit, but somehow she believed us. I think she knew something was up between us cause soon after Scott stopped calling me. For awhile I kept calling him, hoping I would get another taste of that fat nine-inch cock down my throat, but no such luck.

I moved away and went to college in L.A., and he stayed at home, joined a fraternity, and I don't have a clue where he is now.

At least I have the memory of that huge uncut dong plugging my throat.

Even at a younger age I always seemed to be getting into stuff beyond my years. When I was about 12, I started getting these crank sex calls on my phone. The guy on the other end just called one day and asked me in a low, husky voice, "So you want your cock sucked?"

Even though I was kind of afraid, there was no denying that I wanted to play along. Instead of hanging up, I asked him about himself. He said he was 25, beefy, and married. Said he had a thick eight-inch dick and big, low-hanging balls.

Sometimes he would call me during the day after school and it sounded like it was coming from his car phone. He was some kind of TV repairman or phone company guy.

The first time we met in his car, I told my parents I was going over to a friend's house but I really walked down the block, waited for him to drive by, and got into his car. Thinking back, this was pretty stupid. I didn't know what this guy was like. I didn't think about it, I just did it.

Anyway, I went down on him. He had a really fat cock and wiry hairy balls he loved to have sucked. He wanted me to chew on his pecs, which I did for a long long time while he jacked off until he came all over the back seat upholstery.

His body was wet with sweat and he smelled like a real macho bulldozer of a guy. Me being only a teenager made him seem even bigger, older.

Then he sucked me off. He gagged on my load but didn't let up until I fully unloaded into his mouth.

Another time he called and said to meet him at Round Table Pizza. I did. He was waiting in the bathroom.

I walked in, he locked the stall door, knelt down and pulled out my dick, immediately going down on it to the root. I was really nervous about some guy walking in.

I guess the tension made things hotter. I shot off quickly and he took every drop. He didn't come, though. Said he had to get back to work.

After awhile, we stopped seeing each other.

Editor's Note: Excerpted from Scum, Boyd McDonald's 13th volume of true sex histories.

Author Profile:  Boyd McDonald

Born in 1925 in South Dakota, Boyd McDonald entered Harvard as a high-school dropout after serving in the army in World War II. Jobs with Time, IBM, and several Wall Street firms preceded Boyd's career as a chronicler of gay sex. He was the founder and editor of Straight to Hell (alternatively the Manhattan Review of Cocksucking), and later published a number of anthologies of true sex histories. Boyd died in September 1993, two months after completing his final book, Scum.