Chapter 3 - Kevin

My parents had been talking about a move to America for a few months. To me, it seemed like such a remote possibility that I never worried about it seriously, until we were packing. We stayed in New York for three weeks before moving on to California where my father had work. I was to start school as a junior in high school. I hated California. It was getting closer to summer, and it was extremely hot and dry. I missed the moisture of London, and most of all, I missed my mates. Making friends here was difficult. Girls seemed to have an immediate distrust of me, seemingly because of my body, and the fact that boys at school seemed particularly interested. They seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I had no intention of fucking anyone's boyfriend. The boys in high school were immature, and quite boring compared with my new neighbor. Kevin was in his mid-thirties, living in a flat next to ours. He was married, but we would often hear the two of them fighting through the walls. Occasionally, I would hear them fucking at night. For an hour! During those rare times, I would touch myself, imagining that I was the one being fucked like that. 
Kevin was very nice, he always smiled at me when we saw each other. He must have worked from home, because in the mornings I would see his wife leaving when I was going to school, and he'd spend the day out on the porch with coffee and his laptop. Most days he was still there when I got home. I started chatting to him for a little bit every afternoon. Eventually, I would spend all afternoon on his porch with him, drinking coffee. One afternoon he asked if I wanted to come inside while he printed off some work. Maybe I could brew another pot. I accepted. His flat was extremely feminine. I didn't think he'd had much of a hand in it. There was a flowery sofa, a matching chair. I set the coffee to brew and sat on the sofa. I heard him cluttering about in the other room. He came out with some sheets of papers and set them on the counter. When the coffee was ready, he refilled our cups and brought them over to the couch. I reached for my cup, letting my hand linger over his. I looked him straight in the eyes, sat my coffee on the table and started working his belt. He didn't try to stop me as I pulled down his trousers. His cock was thick, the head round and pink. I looked up at him as I pulled it toward my mouth and licked his cock from base to tip. I started sucking it, trying to take it deeper and deeper down my throat. I was getting wet, soaking through my smalls as I worked my mouth and hand at the same time. I couldn't stop myself from moaning, the sound was muffled by his thick, beautiful cock. It was unbelievably large, and seemed to keep growing the more I sucked it. I pulled on his balls, gently massaging them with my fingers. His fingers wound in my hair, and he rocked slightly back and forth, as if he was fucking my mouth. My insides seemed to turn to jelly and melt out from between my legs as I opened my mouth wider to take as much of his cock as I could. He moaned, his cock throbbed in my mouth as his cum splashed down my throat in three spurts. I swallowed it, loving the feel and taste of it coating my throat. I pulled his spent dick from my mouth and kissed the tip of it, a small bead of cum sticking to my lips as I pulled back, turning into a string connecting his cock to my mouth. I licked my lips to break it, got up from the sofa, said thank you, and went back to my flat. I visited Kevin almost every afternoon for six months, until we moved to a townhouse in a different part of town. Kevin is the one that was the first to make me come, and my first experience with anal. But that comes later.






