Back when I was younger, long before the days of the Internet, the only porn available was on the top shelf at the newsagents. Even then, it was pretty tame by today's standards, and only straight. The nearest thing to gay mags were publications like Health and Efficiency.
My parents used the local shop, so I went to the newsagents on the other side of town. Mr. Smyth, the proprietor, was a kindly, if somewhat lecherous man, in his 40s (That seemed ancient to me at the time). Being very nervous, I went in several times, daring myself to buy one, and coming away with chocolate.
One day, I was in there just as he was about to close. He saw me looking at the magazines and came over. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he said, "Don't be shy, they wouldn't be there if people didn't buy them". To my horror, he reached up and handed me a copy of Men Only. I flicked through the pages of girls with big breasts and shaved cunts, and the looked back at Health and Efficiency. Mr. Smythe followed my eyeline, winked at me, and handed me a copy. I thanked him, tucked it inside my jacket, and left quickly.
At home, I raced upstairs and stared at the pictures of handsome men in Speedos and short shorts. The centrefold was a guy, completely naked. I masturbated furiously. Over the next week I got to know every picture by heart, and could wank just thinking about them. I returned to the shop again at closing time. This time, my nerves had gone, Mr. Smythe knew my guilty secret. "Hello, young man, I have a surprise for you. Wait till I've locked up". He took me through to the store room, where, from a drawer in a desk, he pulled out a different publication and handed it to me. "I imported this from Amsterdam". My face reddened as I looked at the centrefold, a completely naked man with an erection twice as big as mine. "You can have it, if you want. Do you want to look at it now, or take it home?" My penis was fighting in my Y-fronts, and I knew if I looked at it much longer, I'd make a mess of them. "I'll take it home, please, maybe next time". He looked a little disappointed, but said, "No worries, don't let your parents catch you. By the way, call me Ted. " I couldn't wait to get home, so went into a public toilet and beat off in a stall.
-------
I hid the mags amongst my college stuff, though the pages were getting stuck together. Each night, as I beat off, I wondered what Ted Smythe had in mind, and fantasised about his penis. Lecher he may be, but my hormones ran ragged. I waited two weeks, hoping he'd have some new mags in, and I found myself heading to the shop with nervous anticipation. "Hi Ted", I said, trying to act normal, and browsed the publications, and waited for the shop to empty. "I'm glad you've come back, I have something special for you". He locked up and ushered me through to the rear.
From the drawer, he pulled out a different mag and opened it on the desk. On the first two pages, two naked men were making out. The final picture was of one guy cumming on the other's chest. I was instantly hard. Ted patted me on the bum, and said, "Why don't you make yourself more comfortable?", and with that, pulled what seemed to be an enormous dick out of his flies. I didn't know whether to look at the pictures or Ted. "Why don't you do the same?, he asked hoarsely. Shaking, I dropped my shorts, exposing my tighty-whities. He put his thumbs in the waistband and eased them over my bum, and my dick sprang out. "You have a lovely willy, show me what you do when you look at the pictures". My balls were aching, so I started to toss. He did the same. It was the first time I'd seen another man's erect penis, let alone one being jerked. It was all too much, and I spilled my juices over the floor. I stared as he carried on, going faster and faster, until huge globs of cum mixed with mine. He let me hold it as it softened. I don't usually swear, but I blurted out, "Fuck me, that was incredible". We tidied ourselves up, and he gave me the mag to add to my collection.
Back home, I hid the book until bedtime. The contents became raunchier as the pages went on. The centrefold was two guys fucking. I beat off again, cumming on the tighy-whities I wore earlier. They were to become my wank pants. I kept them at the back of the drawer and never washed them.
I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't keep away from Ted. The next time, he let me hold his hard cock. It was much bigger than mine (I still had some growing to do). With a little encouragement, I wanked him off. I caught some of it in my hand. For some reason, I tasted it. Gooey, slightly salty, I thought I'd taste mine later.
Some nights I dream of Ted, and what we may do, other times I pore over the books. My cum isn't as thick, or as salty as Ted's. I quite like it .
