Memoirs of Senior Year

by Eros Bastien

6 Nov 2014 3233 readers Score 8.4 (36 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


At school I had the occasional bullying, and was often called faggot. But I was no punk and not afraid to throw-down if pushed to fight. Though I had a girlfriend, it wasn't enough to hide my questionable feminine characteristics, and it didn't help that I was a male cheerleader. My circle of friends consisted of the hottest cheerleaders and the meanest girls in school, and because of them you can say I was popular even though sometimes I was the butt of their jokes.

Because of them I was always surrounded by jocks and thugs. There was one jock in particular who always cause me grief, Paul Kowalski. He was the classic football jock, a typical American teenager of European descent with the perfect hair, intricate features, and solid body. He was popular and liked by everyone, and even though he was my tormentor I did too. When he was around I couldn't keep myself from staring at him, he was gorgeous, and when his blue eyes caught me staring he'd wink and blow kisses at me, especially when his buddies were around. He enjoyed the shock he drew from me whenever he goaded me. In the locker room he would grab his crotch and flash me his pubic hairs, sometimes he'd pull his underwear low enough that I could see part of his dick. It was always a show for others to laugh at my reaction, and like a fool I always over reacted.

But senior year everything changed. It was the 80's, it was a time of fun, freedom, and excess everything. Back then elements of gay fashion exploded into mainstream fashion, which made it easy for a pretty boy like me to bend the norms and break the stereotype of a male "Barbie" figure. I got my ears pierced, started to dress in fashionable retro rage, sported wild and colorful hairstyles, and even wore eyeliner. I became quite the androgynous boy - and thanks to the cheerleading training I had developed a muscular and fit frame, my arms and legs were strong and long, my bum was round and bubbly, my abs were tight and well defined, and my pecs had swelled up nicely. At the tender age of seven-teen, I was at the threshold of manhood yet maintain the boyish features that made me look exotic.

That summer, before the start of senior year, I terminated with my long-term girlfriend. I was tired of having to put up with her problems, because lately it seemed every other boy was trying to get in her pants. And as her boyfriend I always had to act, put a stop to them, defend her honor, and often this lead to physical confrontations. I grew so tired of her; I decided I didn't need the drama and dumped her ass. It didn't take long for her to find someone else to comfort her and give her the attention I never did. She tried to make me jealous, parading her new relationship so that I could see them. But I didn't care. The only thing I missed about her were her blowjobs, which were not that good to begin with.

When school started up again we were completely different people. Rather, I was a completely different person. I was already changing and Paul was the first to notice the big change. I remember how he expressed how much he liked my new style...

I was standing by the urinal taking a blissful piss when the lavatory door opened. I paid no mind, though I should have, and continued to release a hot steady stream of piss. Paul had position himself behind me. He wrapped one arm around my chest and pinned me back against his body. I said, trying to get loose, "Fuck off." But I couldn't break away, he was too strong. I seriously feared he was going to shove my face down a toilet... or something.

It took me by complete surprised, literally froze me still, when I felt his stiff cock against my backside. He reached around and grab my soft cock getting piss all over his hand. He pulled on the velvety foreskin and gave it a nice long stretch. He caressed my penis to arousal. I have a big size cock, almost nine-inches long and three-fingers thick, plus I have one of those needle-head dicks that when fully erect points straight-up, and I was getting hard as a rock in his hand.

I let myself be lead, submissively, to his exploring hands. He felt me up. I moved my hands around the outline of his arms, feeling his muscles flex under the skin. I guided his right hand to my chest, and he pinched my nipple - a breathless moan escaped my lips. I closed my eyes and listened to Paul softly whisper in my ear, "Touch it, come on, touch my cock." My hand finds his cock, and it was as solid as mine (about eight-inches of thick polish cock), and wet with precum. I held his cock just as tight as he held mine. For a moment we both lose our senses in the fever of teenage lust.

But as good as the moment felt I was afraid. I expected some sort of trick from my tormentor; I expected his buddies to burst into the room at any minute. Fearing the worst I suggested we move into a stall, and he agreed. He really wanted to do it, whatever it was we were going to do, but I was afraid and as soon as he entered the stall I ran out of the room.

For the rest of the day I walked sporting semi-boners, and getting fully hard whenever I sniffed my right-hand -- that held the scent of Paul Kowalski's dick. When I got home I masturbated while I sniffed and licked my hand, and ejaculated back to back two of the biggest cum loads ever. I couldn't stop thinking about his cock. His cock was the first, besides my own, I ever touched.

After that event Paul avoided me, he stop teasing me, he wouldn't even look at me, and never stay in the same room with me especially if we were alone. I can't say if he avoided me because he was embarrassed or even hurt by my rejection, I really don't know. He never again showed any interest in me, not even to make fun of me. And I respected the dividing line he drew between us and never questioned it.

What I can say with certainty is that Paul sparked the start of my sexual exploits with other guys. Before Paul, even though we didn't do much, all of my sexual experiences had been with girls. I had seen gay porn, had read a few dirty magazines too, but had never acted on any gay sex. And while Paul never showed any more interest in me another guy did and his name was Jose.


by Eros Bastien

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