Early Days Of Fun free porn video

I’ve been trying to remember how it all started for me. It is all now such a long time ago, I find it hard to believe now that when I was a young teenager, it was 1973, over 45 years ago. Where has all that time gone ? I can barely credit all the things I have done and all the people I have known, and even worse, who must now be dead.

Anyway, I cannot put a date on it, but I do know what happened.

I was in my room, as usual, and probably playing with myself, as usual. My mum shouted up the stairs to me that Steve was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. My school friend Steve, to be honest, one of my few school friends, wanted to know if I wanted to go to the next Chelsea home game with him. It was one of the things we had in common, being Chelsea fans. He used to go regularly, but I hardly ever. Although I was quite independent, I liked my own company, and wasn’t a good mixer. I suppose that was another similarity we had. Anyway, I shouted to mum to ask if it was ok with her, not that I needed to, but that was what I was like, and also if she would give me some money, and it was ‘a date’ as it were.

So the next Saturday we met at the bus stop on Kings Avenue and hopped on the 137 bus to Sloan Square. I forget now which bus took us along the rest of the way, but we met up with some other teens that Steve mixed with, and we had a good time, no hooliganism or anything like that, even though we used to go to The Shed end, and Chelsea had a terrible reputation for it at the time. We steered well clear of any trouble, didn’t really see the attraction of causing trouble, just wanted to watch the game, and enjoy Chelsea winning. Chelsea had a really good team at the time, still many of the 1960’s generation brought through the ranks by Tommy Docherty, but some new faces too.

But still, that isn’t really what this is all about of course. Steve and I got used to the routine of Saturdays going to watch Chelsea, even got to the stage of going to QPR when Chelsea were not at home. We got to know each other really well, became extra good friends. We of course were still mates at school - he was a very good footballer, I was more of a cricketer as far as sporting talent was concerned, even being on the periphery of the school team at one point.
We used to chat about football, cricket, any sports and all sorts of other things. Of course being teenagers we were also getting interested in girls and sex. He was self-confident and said he was quite chatty with his neighbour’s daughter, who was quite a looker, with nice legs and had suddenly sprouted a nice pair of tits. He fancied his chances of at least a grope and admitted he got a hard-on when he was talking to her.

Sex was an awkward subject for k**s at that time. Erections and masturbation were essentially not subjects for discussion, there was a bit of a silent agreement between everyone I know that the only time such things were mentioned were for mockery – calling people ‘wankers’ was literally the ultimate insult, and to even hint that you did wank would have been unthinkable – even though we all knew that we all did it, and lots and lots. I knew I did it, constantly. I had a stack of magazines all a bit tame by today’s standards, but would get my prick pointing at the ceiling in a blink of an eye. I would in no time be wanking hard and cuming in no time. Those were the days – I could wank and cum 4 times in an hour. Every night I would have to have a wank before I could get to sleep. I had a supply of paper towels under the squab of an old armchair in the corner of my room that I would use to mop up the cum, and there was plenty to absorb.

Another friend of mine that I would meet on the tube between Balham and Tooting Bec was Alan, a natural comedian, always regaling me with jokes that were so much funnier than anything that was on the telly, and he was also quite up front about sex. His parents were quite young, in their 30’s I think, his mum a teenager when he was born, while mine were far older, at least mid-50’s. He would tell me that he could often hear his mum and dad having sex in the bedroom next to his. They were apparently quite open about it, not embarrassed at all that their teen son was listening to their nocturnal antics. So after we got to know each other better, he told me that he would get hard listening to all this going on, and couldn’t help but having a wank to it. I couldn’t make my mind up to be shocked or fascinated and excited. He said he had found his dad’s collection of porn magazines and he graphically described the pictures, showing full sex acts, hard penises, actual sexual intercourse, and even women with the men’s hard cocks in their mouths and drinking the cum ! This was all extraordinary to me, I had no idea sex could be like that. Sex education hadn’t mentioned anything like that – actually it hadn’t really mentioned anything at all, it was all about sperm and eggs, not ‘sex’ as such, it had about as much relevance to what people actually did ‘between the sheets’ as gardening.

So between Alan giving me a third hand by proxy sex education, and Steve telling me all about his so far fruitless attempts to get his hand into his neighbour’s daughter’s knickers, never mind anything else, it seemed I was getting left out of first or even second hand sex. The only hand involved was my own, and I couldn’t see that changing. I didn’t know any girls, as our school was a single sex third rate inner London grammar school, and none of my school friends, neighbours or my parent’s friends had any daughters my age, either ten years older or younger. My shyness and contentedness with my own company didn’t exactly encourage me to actively seek out any new friends, either male or female.

So it was a bit of a bolt out of the blue, not what I was expecting at all.

I got to know Simon as one of the circle of pals we met up with at The Shed on a Saturday, and as the game finished we all said our goodbyes, same time same place, next match. Then as Simon and I were waiting for the 137 bus home, I saw Simon walking along the other side of the road. I waved to him, and he saw us, and came over to say hi. It seemed he usually got a lift home, but today he had got delayed and missed meeting up so was facing a long walk back, as he had no money on him ; we hadn’t realised that he was also from our part of the world, Streatham, it had never really come up in conversation somehow. So we said we would pay his fare and he gratefully took up our offer. From then on, we were a threesome – as far as Saturday trips to Chelsea were concerned – and we got to know Simon a lot better. A medium build good looking lad, it seemed that Simon was from a difficult background, single mum, which wasn’t common then, and occasionally in trouble with the police, not for football hooliganism stuff, just decent honest criminal stuff, but nothing heavy, just petty stuff he was honestly trying to get away from, realising it wasn’t going to help him in the long run, being naturally really intelligent.

So one day during the holidays I met Simon outside Streatham High Road Odeon, as he said he would like to go to the pictures, but felt daft going on his own, and I said I’d go with him. As far as I remember it was a Burt Reynolds film called White Lightning. To say it wasn’t busy is one of the understatements of the century. It was before the days of multi-screen cinemas, and it was just a vast cavern with one picture showing at a time and being a Tuesday afternoon, or whatever, we were the only two in the whole place. With nobody to disturb we were chatting away all through the film and when the love interest appeared on screen we freely gave our advice to the leading male about what he should be doing to the female lead. Simon was quite graphic and started to mimic thrusting his hard prick down the woman’s throat, “that’d shut her up, she’s talking crap anyway” he laughed and rubbed his prick through his jeans. I laughed, half nervously, half encouragingly, as by now I was getting a hard-on, which generally only happened about twenty times a day. The next thing I noticed, Simon was looking at me and grinning.” Come on, there’s no-one here and I won’t tell anyone if you won’t” I had a vague idea what he meant, but was too frozen with apprehension to move.

He pulled down his loose fitting jeans and y fronts to his knees and out leapt his hard prick. Now I had been in enough changing rooms at school and was familiar with naked teenagers but not with rock hard penises, and certainly not wrapped in a fast moving hand. I swallowed hard, and thought, what the fuck; sure, there was no-one about, no cinema staff, and it was dark, only lit by the noisy car based action on the screen perhaps 100 feet away. So I pulled down my zip, and with difficulty prized my stiff prick out. I wasn’t so brazen as to pull my jeans down just yet. So we sat there gently giggling and wanking in Streatham Odeon on a Tuesday afternoon in July 1973 – all dates and times approximate – for my first sexual experience with another human being – well perhaps not with, but in association. So I wasn’t sure where we were going with this. I thought, do we go on, do we continue to the natural conclusion, or is this just a demonstration of our excitement. It didn’t take long before I got an answer when, Simon stretched out and wanked hard, and spurted cum over this tummy and hand. Thankfully, I knew this was the green light and I could do the same, so I pulled down my jeans and decided in the gloom to kick them down to my ankles, and for ease to remove one trouser leg. Stretching my legs out as far as I could with the row of seats in front getting in the way, I grasped my prick pulled up and down from root to helmet as fast as I could and within thirty seconds I came with a loud gasp like I had never before. I spurted cum over the back of the seat in front and managed not to get too much on my legs and balls. Fortunately I did have a clean handkerchief with me and I cleaned myself up as best I could. Simon said he’d be back in a minute and hobbled to the toilet. A couple of minutes later her came back and suggested we sit somewhere else to watch the rest of the movie, as it was a bit messy where we were – I don’t know how that happened !

When we left the cinema, he thanked me for ‘coming’ with him and winked. He invited me to come to tea at his house, which I took him up on the next day. Not sure what sort of domestic arrangements I would find, I was pleasantly surprised. He lived with him mum and her new boyfriend in a ground floor flat near Stratham common, nicely furnished, neat and tidy. His mum was lovely, pretty and petite with nice legs and a great figure – the sorts of things I noticed about any woman I encountered, and frankly still do - and her boyfriend friendly with Simon, nice to me and affectionate with her. It was clear to me that if he had a difficult early c***dhood, things were certainly on the up. His mum had got a job managing a restaurant and the boyfriend had a nice car outside. I later found out he was an estate agent.

So after tea, Simon and I went to his room and listened to some music while we chatted and looked through magazines. His mum and her boyfriend said they were going out and left us to it. I called home to tell mum I’d be home later and we watched tv, I think The Sweeney was on, the best cop show of the time. Simon asked me if I wanted a beer, and we opened a tin. After a while Simon asked me what I’d thought of the film we’d been to see. I said it was OK, too much like all the other Burt Reynolds films, but I’d lost track of the story half way though, couldn’t think why ! We both laughed. He asked if I’d enjoyed what we’d done and I had to admit that I had, very much. He asked me to be honest and tell me if I had ever done anything like that before. I hadn’t of course. He knew that as I’d accepted the invitation to tea that I hadn’t been offended, or scared off being a friend. He said they hadn’t long moved into the area, previously they lived in Battersea. When they lived there, he had tried to do something similar with a lad he thought was a friend, got his prick out in front of him, but it had gone badly, he hadn’t appreciated it at all and made life very difficult, had a bad time at school so he was very pleased to have moved away very soon afterwards. As he had got to know me in the previous weeks, he had kind of worked me out, guessed from some of the conversations that we had had, the type of things teenage boys always talk about, and the way I in particular talked about sex and some of the jokes I told that I would be completely fine about what we did, and he was right, I was. Not only was I fine about it, frankly I was ecstatic. Here was actually a friend after my own image, horny, football mad, a bit of a loner, and apparently an enthusiastic committed ‘wanker’. I suppose the thing I was still to naive to twig at that time was he was at least bi-sexual if not actually gay, but I wasn’t worried about that, or even aware of it. As far as I was concerned he did like girls, nearly as much as I did – nobody liked girls as much as I did and I manifested this by wanking lots – it seemed he did the same. I felt bold enough to tell him all this. Clearly by being so open with me, it emboldened me to be equally open with him about what I liked, and what I did. We found we were comfortable with each other.

So began what could only be described as a special friendship. A day or two later it was a warm sunny day, and he phoned me to ask if I wanted to come around in the afternoon – of course I jumped at the invitation. So hopping on a 109 bus made my way down to Streatham Common and there he was waiting outside the ice rink. We decided to go for a walk on the common and soon found our way up at the rockery an elegant pleasant enclosed garden at the top of the common. Again our chatting soon turned from football and cricket and other mundane stuff the more exciting subjects of girls generally and sex. At that age only the slightest of mentions of sex would inevitably lead to a bulging crotch and I wondered if Simon had the same condition, so I sneaked a look down to the area in question, but I couldn’t honestly tell. So I asked him if he was hard, and he grinned and grabbed the affected part and said sure, and that he’d love to get rid of it. He said there was a part of the common behind the rockery that was very secluded where he went often and that he’d never seen anyone else go there. He asked if I wanted to go there and relieve ourselves. With a dry mouth and an ever hardening prick making walking awkward I nodded. There was a back gate to the rockery and a path surrounded by a thicket of trees and large bushes. Within about 50 yards Simon found a small gap in the undergrowth and making sure nobody else was about, I followed him through and we were plunged into an area that resembled a rain forest, you could hardly see 5 feet around you, We pressed on, and I assumed Simon knew where he was going and sure enough after a minute we emerged into a small clearing, perhaps 15 foot in circumference and for all you knew you could have been in the middle of the countryside miles from civilization.

Simon said that he had some great fun in this spot, and he was desperate to share it with a friend. He knew I would be up for it and he was right, I was ‘up’ for it and I rubbed up and down on my iron hard cock through my jeans for him to see.
“Oh yeah”, Simon said,” that’s what I was hoping for”. With that he unbuckled his jeans and slid them and his pants down off his slim hips, in one go. Up sprung his rock hard prick and for the first time I noticed what a long penis he had. He pulled up his tee-shirt and grabbed his cock. “Come on then, don’t be shy” he laughed and so I pulled down my jeans and pants threw off my shirt and stood there naked with my hard prick pointing at the sky. It dawned on me we were standing naked with erections effectively in the middle of Streatham Common, and I said, “Are you sure we are ok here ?”
“Oh yeah, I have done this loads of times. You do hear people walking past, but the path is miles away and nobody can see through to here. Any anyway, if someone else knew about here and wanted to come through, we’d hear them approaching in plenty of time to scarper, out that way” . Simon pointed behind me to a slight gap in the bushes.
“That’s the emergency exit” he laughed, “that leads to another pathway, and that’s even further away and even more overgrown, and eventually down a steep banking to the main road”. I realised that as he was telling me this he had started stroking his long cock. I also noticed for the first time that he had very short pubes. I had wondered about trimming mine as the long hairs sometimes got caught up in my foreskin when my prick was limp and it became quite awkward when I started to go hard, with my pubes being caught up by my prick. I now saw that Simon clearly trimmed his so I resolved to do the same when I got the chance.

Simon knelt down and leant back and looked at my prick. I walked over a couple of paces and joined him, and began wanking my prick. He asked me if I’d wanked already that day, and I hadn’t, even though I’d been stoking that morning before getting up. He said he hadn’t wanked and cum since our joint effort in the Odeon, so he reckoned he was due a ‘big one’, a real good orgasm and lots of spunk. I said that the one thing I could always manage was lots of spunk, even if I came twice a day. He grinned and licked his lips and said he couldn’t wait to see, as it was too dark in the Odeon to get a good look at me and my cum. He said he liked what he was seeing, and wanted me to shoot my spunk as far as I could. He appeared to suggest that he wanted me to cum and splash some over his legs.

“Tell you what, I’ll cum, and then you cum after me, alright ?” I didn’t really get a chance to agree or not, as with that, he started to rub up and down pulling his foreskin right back down and up over his helmet faster and faster. I could see he was trying to cum quickly. He bit his lip and started to gasp, and his hand slowed down. He arched his back, cried out, “fuck – yeah” and a jet of hot white thick spunk erupted from his prick and landed next to my foot. He continued wanking and more spunk shot out, arcing up in the air and splashing around my feet.

“Phew” he exclaimed with a deep breathe. “Now you !” It was all I could do to wait for him to stop cuming so that I could show him my wanking expertise. I rubbed my prick a few times, and within seconds could feel the semen deep in my prick ready to fountain out, and sure enough with a strangulated “ Fuck, fuck, I’m cuming – take this” spurted my cum like I did a couple of days before, this time in broad daylight and in front of my new pal, my wank buddy. I few great jets of cum shot out, and I saw that Simon had moved in front of me, and made sure some of my spunk landed on his leg. I finished cuming, and Simon said that he couldn’t tell which was my cum and which was his. He then said “You know, I often lick my cum off my hand after I’ve cum – have you ever done that ?” I said after I found out about oral sex and that girls swallow guy’s spunk, I had tried it. He asked if I liked that taste, and I said that I didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t so tasty that it made me want to do it all the time. So Simon licked his hand where he had covered it in his spunk. He then looked at me and pointed to his leg where there was a streak of my cum running down it. He scooped some of it up and played with it on his fingers. He winked at me and then sucked it off them. I was a bit taken aback. “Hmm, that’s funny, it does taste a bit different to mine – not bad, just different “ and laughed. “So did you like that ?” has asked, and I had to admit I found it exhilarating.

Just then we did hear some laughter in the distance but Simon that was quite normal and nothing to worry about. He delved into his jeans pocket and found some tissues and began wiping his hand and leg; I somehow had managed to only have a little bit of cum on the back of my hand. “Hey, Simon” I said and as he looked at me, I licked the cum off it. “Oh, wow” he said, impressed. “I’ll get another hard-on if you do that again” he laughed.

We both gathered our things and got dressed, and then made our way down the escape route. It was an awkward trek through they undergrowth, but after about 10 minutes we did find ourselves at the road side, back to the normal everyday world and laughed to each other, knowing what we’d been up to and knowing that the people we were walking past had no idea that they were in the presence of two dedicated secret wankers with empty balls.

Well, not that empty. We decided to walk back to Simon’s for a drink, as it wasn’t far. About 15 minutes later Simon turned the key in the front door and we walked in. Simon shouted out to announced we were home, and then saw a note cello-taped to the telephone. It seemed that his mum and her boyfriend had decided to go up to London for the day, and they wouldn’t be back until late. There was a 5 pound note in the biscuit tin for him to get some fish and chips for his tea.
“Seems we have the place to ourselves” Simon said. “Now you’re here and we are alone I can show you those mags” he said. He was referring to some porno magazines he had found while rummaging in his mum’s dresser and that he’d told me about; these were much harder-core than anything I had ever seen before, from Holland and Germany. He disappeared into his mum’s bedroom and I sat on the couch. A couple of minutes later I realised Simon had moved from his mum’s bedroom and had gone to his, and heard him call “Come and look at this”. I got up and walked into his bedroom. I had already removed my bomber jacket and shoes, but Simon was way ahead of me.
He was now standing next to his bed with three or four magazines open on the floor and bed. The pictures were like nothing I had seen before, girls on all fours, pussies wide open, but also featured muscular guys with big hard cocks either in the girls cunts or mouths, some with semen on their faces and dripping from the hard cocks. But as much as I was looking at these photos , I was also looking at Simon. Just like an hour before, he was stark naked with his own stiff cock in his hand. “Always get me going, these do” he commented almost by way of explanation. “I can’t help it, always get a raging hard-on, and just have to wank” he added a bit needlessly. Again I felt a bit left out, and in any event I noticed by prick was bulging in my straining jeans. I had little option, and didn’t want to be left out of the fun, so within a moment I had divested myself of my clothes and was kneeling down peering at the pornography spread out on the floor, cock bouncing as I moved.

“Fantastic, aren’t they” Simon said, slightly trembley. He was stroking his prick. “I know I only came earlier, but I can easily cum again. Do you reckon you could ?” he asked. I said I sure could and told him I had once tried to see how many times I could wank and cum in one hour and I managed 4 times, actually 5 in 66 minutes. He laughed and said he hadn’t tried that, and that he would soon. I said the first three times I came as usual, but after that the 4th cum was just a dribble and the 5th was hardly anything, just the orgasm. “Wow, must try that” he said. “Come on then, let’s get on the bed”. He cleared the magazines off the bed and propped them up on his chest of drawers so that we could see them open at the horniest pages, and then we had one each, holding the mag open with one hand while stroking our cocks with the other. I lay on the right side of the bed, and being left handed it meant my wanking had was against Simon, who was wanking right next to me with his right hand. Although we had now done this together a few times, this was the closest proximity we had ever been, not just naked, but tossing our cocks too. We were having a real close up encounter. We stroked away, commenting on what we were looking at.

Simon showed me a sequence of photos of a girl giving a guy a hand job and the cum shooting out over her tits. “That’s fab, isn’t it” he said and I agreed, and I said it was really horny, not just the pictures, but the whole experience, both of us lying on his bed naked, wanking. There was a moment of quiet, and in fact we stopped wanking for a moment, throbbing cocks, crimson helmets bursting with imminent orgasmic explosion.

“Funny you should say that”, he said quietly. “Look, between you and me ? What do you reckon – are you up for it ? I will do it if you want to do it”. I sort of knew what he was suggesting, but I was feeling so turned on, I wanted to hear him say what he meant, so I told him to spell it out. “Can I wank you ? I’ve always wanted to wank another cock, and I would really love it if you tossed me off”.So with that, I let go of my cock and told him that it was free. As he lay on his side facing me he reached out and gently grasped my cock. I told him that he’d either better get on with it, cos I reckoned I was about to shoot my cum, or to be very careful if he wanted this to last, for the same reason. So with that, he ran his finger down by shaft and onto my balls and down my leg and up again, and then onto my tummy. It was too exciting for words, but at least it reduced the expectation that my prick was about to erupt with hot spunk. With a hard dry swallow, I moved my hand and touched his cock. It felt hot and hard, and Simon moaned gently when I wrapped my fingers around it and gently stroked up and down. “Oh, that’s amazing” he whispered, and said that he too would probably cum very soon if I kept doing that. I reached down and grasped his balls, and Simon gave a louder sharper gasp. “Fantastic” he groaned. We lay there tweaking each other’s cocks and teasing each other, and forgot all about the fuck mags. Somehow we managed to keep this up for what seemed ages, all the time moaning and gasping and saying “that’s great” to each other.
Then Simon said he couldn’t stand it any longer, he just had to cum and told me to wank him and make him spurt. So I started to rub with a steady rhythm. After less than a minute, Simon began to tense up and said “Oh fuck, I'm cuming like never before” and a jet of sticky spunk jetting out of his cock, shot high into the air and landed on his tummy, and it continued five or six more spurts, and then dribbled down over my hand. I wiped my hand on his tummy, and he scooped it up and liked it off his fingers.

“Now your turn” he said excitedly and he sat up and knelt next to me. He grasped my cock and asked how I wanted it. I just told him to get on with it, I’d take it how it came. Again he laughed and with wide eyes began stroking my cock. Almost straight away I told him I was going to cum. “Oh good” he said and sure enough I mimicked his performance within a few moments, orgasming hard, shuddering, and semen flew out of my cock over my tummy and Simon’s hand. “That’s so fucking horny” Simon giggled and again licked his hand which now had my cum on it. He offered me his wet finger. “Go on” he dared me. So I did, I licked his finger with a mixture of our cum on it.

So we cleaned up and got dressed and spent the rest of the afternoon just lounging around; eventually I decided I had better go home. I told Simon that I was having to go away for a few days. We had a big family holiday arranged down in Dorset, and we were leaving in a day or two, and I would be in touch the moment I got back. Simon said he was looking forward to hearing all about it.

Well, the holiday lasted a bit longer than I thought it would, in fact it was nearly a fortnight before we got back home. A day or two later I rang Simon’s number but there was no answer. I tried again the next day, and still no body picked up the phone. So the next day I got the bus and went to pay Simon a visit.

I walked up to the house and as I was knocking on the door I realised the front room curtains were different, a bit scruffy looking, and drawn. There was no answer, and I knocked again. At that, the woman who lived next door emerged from her house, and said “Oh hello there. You after the Coopers ? I’m afraid they’ve gone”. “Eh ?” I spluttered; “Gone ? Where ?”
“Oh they left a forwarding address, I’ve got it somewhere” and she scuttled back into her house to come out again a few moments later with a piece of paper with an address on it; I knew Simon and his mum moved about a lot; he’d told me in the last couple of years he’d lived in Battersea, Tooting, Wandsworth, Vauxhall, all in and around south London, so I was expecting it to be perhaps Dulwich of somewhere similar. I can’t now remember the house number and street, but I do recall the next line of the address ; Nottingham. Fuck.

A couple of weeks later my mum called out to me that there was a phone call for me. It was Simon. He sounded slightly glum, but it was good to hear from him. To cut a long conversation short, it seems the day after I last saw him his mum had told him that her boyfriend had asked him to marry her, and she was thrilled. She of course said yes, and Simon was happy too. But the bombshell was that her now fiancé had got a new job, and he started almost immediately, and yes it was in Nottingham. He had already found a house to rent and they were moving within the week. Simon had no time to tell me but he knew I’d find out when I called at the house. So we agreed that it had been fun while it lasted, which wasn’t long at all, and quite simply we agreed that was the end. We said our goodbyes, and hung up.

I never heard from him again.