The Last Ride of a Virgin
by David Heulfryn

 

I spent the morning lazing in bed. I was bored and fed up. Both my mates were on holiday, and I was alone. I never made friends easily, and I was grateful I had the two I had. Mum was cleaning downstairs, and the sound from the vacuum cleaner prevented me from going back to sleep.

“Simon! Are you going to get up? I’m not having you staying in bed all day through the summer!” My mum shouted up the stairs.

“I’m getting up, Mum!” I shouted back.

When I dressed and went downstairs, I got the familiar lecture from my mother. It was always the same. Why don’t I go out more? Why don’t I find a summer job before going to university? Why don’t you help around the house more?

After I ate a slice of toast and drank a mug of coffee, I told my mother I was going out for a bike ride.

Upstairs and in my bedroom, I stripped naked and rummaged in my chest of drawers. I found my blue cycling shorts and slipped them up my slender legs and slim hips, my hand delving inside and arranging my dick into a comfortable position. After pulling my hand free, I gave my package an appreciative squeeze through my shorts. If I were alone, I would have had a wank; my hand was the only action my cock had ever received. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin and had little to offer. I was slim and scrawny, with no muscles, no six-pack, just skin and bone. I pulled my cycling jersey over my flat chest as I stomped downstairs.

I shouted to my mother that I was off and slammed the door shut.

The weather was warm, and the traffic was light. I quickly moved from the built-up area where I lived to the countryside.

I was sweating, and my heart beating fast. It was times like this that I felt alive, alone and concentrating on the way ahead. Everything else disappeared. All my worries vanished as I pedalled. It was at these moments that I could see clarity.

Ahead, there was an opening to a canal tow-path. I’d been along it many times and knew it was suitable for my bike. I passed the occasional solitary fisherman holding his rod and would need to slow down to pass the occasional dog-walker. The path forked off. One way would follow the canal; the other would follow the river that fed the canal. I rarely went the river route, but I wanted a change today.

The path followed the river, then inclined, taking me higher above the river. I thought this was better than the canal route as I didn’t pass anybody.

Then it happened.

A duck flew into me as it was heading for the river. It pitched me off my bike, and I rolled down the river bank. I heard a splash as the duck landed badly on the water.

As I rolled toward the river, my body bowled through bramble and other weeds. The adrenaline stopped me from hurting as the bramble tore at my clothes and exposed skin. My head bounced off a rock, and even though I wore a helmet, I was dazed and concussed. I came to a halt with my legs in the water.

“Fucking hell!” I heard a deep voice exclaim.

I saw the blurred outline of a middle-aged man.

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me out of the water.

“Shit, Mate! You came a cropper.” He spoke in a strong northern accent.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and I began to ache. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at my ripped and bloodied clothes.

“Stay still, Mate. You landed on my tackle box and have a few hooks in you.” The man lifted my jersey and tugged at a hook in my side. I grimaced in pain. “Sorry, Mate.” The hook came out, and he showed it to me, “One down, three to go.”

There was another hook on my flank and two on my hip.

The man was reticent when it came to the hooks in my hip.

“I’m going to need to pull your shorts down a little. Do you mind?”

“Whatever, just get those damn things out of me.” I winced.

The man grabbed the elastic waistband and pulled it away from my skin. He tried to pull them down but found it tricky because I was sitting, and lifting my backside was too much effort. He gave it up as a lost cause.

“I’ll try something else,” the man said, pulling some of the torn Lycra. It ripped even more, but it gave him access to my skin to pull out the fish hooks. “All done.” He declared. I looked down and could see one of my testicles and some pubic hair. If I hadn’t positioned my cock to the left, that would now be on display. I felt too woozy to care and flopped back down, lying on the river bank, looking at the blue sky.

My body ached, and the man left me to recover as he picked up his tackle and put it back in the box. He then looked back at me. I felt his eyes roam along my body, his eyes lingering on my crotch and my exposed testicle.

“I should rinse out your cuts and grazes.” He held a bottle of water and poured a little on my bloodied skin.

I let the man do what he wanted; my mind was still foggy.

“What’s your name?” He asked me as he cleaned me up.

“Simon.” I croaked.

“I’m Phil. What happened?”

“A bloody duck flew into me.” I looked up the river bank and saw my bike resting on a bramble bush. The front wheel looked buckled. I hope that was all that was wrong. I needed my bike for university.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he rubbed my grazed hip with a damp cloth. I felt the back of his hand knock against my exposed testicle.

“Better, thanks.” For the first time, I looked at the man. It was his eyes that captured me. They were a vivid shade of blue.

I felt my cock lurch. I’d never had this reaction before when I looked at a man. Come to think of it, I’d never had that reaction when I looked at a woman. It was at this moment that I finally accepted that I was gay.

“Are you alright, Simon?” Phil looked at my crotch, “It seems you have a swelling.”

I blushed, embarrassed by my reaction to the man.

“Would you like me to check you are alright?” Phil grinned at me.

I knew what he meant. It was a big step for me. I was the only person ever to have touched my cock, and definitely the only person to see it hard. The cogs in my brain whirred; I had to make a decision. I could turn him down and remain afraid of sex. Or I could say yes and see where it might lead. I could still say no later if he wanted to do something I didn’t.

I gave myself over to the stranger. “Yes, you’d better check that my swelling isn’t serious.”

I felt a bolt of electricity shoot along my body, which caused my cock to sell harder than I’d ever felt it before.

Phil reached over and delicately pulled down my Lycra shorts. My cock glistened in the sun as it wept precum. He wrapped his fingers around my shaft and pulled it away from my belly. He pulled back my foreskin and leant forward to suck on my moist knob.

The sensation overwhelmed me, and my body became rigid. “I’m gonna cum.” I groaned.

Phil released my cock from his mouth and squeezed it just under my knob with his finger and thumb. It brought me back from the edge. “Have you ever done this before?” He asked, and I shook my head. “You’re a virgin?” I nodded my head. “I’ll take it slow then.”

I sat up and took off my torn cycle jersey.

“There’s no need to look so scared.” He noticed my frightened look.

He raised a finger to my lips and traced around them. He poked inside, and I slackened my jaw. I sucked on his finger; it tasted salty. I licked his fingertip with my tongue. He pushed a second finger into my mouth, and he was careful not to push too far back and choke me.

Phil pulled his finger from my mouth and leaned in to kiss me. It was a short, gentle kiss to start with, then something more aggressive. I felt his lips press firmly against mine, his tongue forcing its way inside me.

I groaned as his tongue rubbed against mine. My arms were limp by my side. I didn’t know what to do. Phil held my head between his hands as I let him do all the work. He pulled away when he was getting no response from me.

“You’re like a bunny in the headlights.” He grinned at me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Just do what feels right. If you want to touch me, then touch me.”

I raised my hand and traced a finger along his lips and then let him suck it. I looked down at my crotch; my cock had gone soft but still glistened with his saliva.

Phil pulled my finger from his mouth and took off his shirt. He took my finger and pulled it to his chest. He made me touch his stiff nipple with my fingertip. He let go, and I traced a route through his sparse chest hair and down to his belly button. I stuck my finger in, and Phil giggled.

My finger followed the hair from his navel down to the waistband of his fishing trousers. I grew in confidence, unbuckled his belt and unclasped the button. I gingerly delved inside, and I felt his stiff bulge through his underwear. I traced my hand along his rigid shaft. It seemed to go on forever. I continued to stroke Phil as he kissed me again, his tongue back in my mouth. This time, I used my tongue to play with his.

My cock reacted and became hard again. Phil reached for it and stroked me as I stroked him. I gasped in his mouth as I felt my balls twitch. Phil released my cock; he knew I was about to blow again.

Phil severed our contact and stood up. I watched as he stripped. His underwear looked old and baggy, but I didn’t care. I was eager to see what was inside them. I didn’t have a long wait.

As he stood naked in front of me, I jumped into his crotch. I held his hard six-inch cock and pushed my face into his pubes. I inhaled deeply and smelt the musk. I gave his cock a few strokes and then looked at it. He was patient with me and looked on as I peeled down his foreskin and ran my fingertips over his piss slit. I watched a pearl of precum emerge. I picked it up on my fingertip.

“Suck it,” Phil whispered encouragement.

I did. I sucked my finger. It didn’t taste of anything. I looked back at his gleaming cock. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip. It made Phil shudder. I placed the tip in my mouth. I sucked and licked the underside with my tongue. I could now taste the salt and musk. I swallowed some more but stopped before it hit the back of my throat. I did what was expected of me and pressed my lips and tongue against his cock as I pulled it in and out of my mouth.

My head was screaming. I had a cock in my mouth. My first cock. My first blow-job. My excitement grew and went down too far, choking myself. I didn’t like it, and I spat his cock out.

“You’ll get used to it in time. You just need practice. Now lie back.” Phil pushed my shoulder so I was flat on my back again.

He grabbed my cock and sucked it into his mouth. I watched as it slowly disappeared between his lips, and his nose was buried in my pubes. I couldn’t understand how he wasn’t choking, but he showed me it was possible. Then I felt him swallow, and his throat undulated around my knob. His hand cupped my balls, rolling them around his fingers and squeezing them gently.

I was getting close again. Phil kept sucking me and pulled my balls away from my body. My balls ached, my cock stiffened and throbbed as I came into his mouth.

Phil pulled back and kept the tip between his lips as I continued to spew. He swallowed, then sucked my cock like a lollipop, cleaning me.

“Did you enjoy that?” Phil asked as he licked his lips.

“Uh-huh.” I gasped as I recovered from my orgasm.

“Do you want to try something else?” He smiled at me.

I grunted, which he took as a yes.

Phil lifted my legs and pushed my knees into my chest. I held them as I felt the air on my exposed arse. I flexed my hole as Phil delved between my cheeks, and his tongue connected with my anus. He licked and probed me with his tongue. Saliva smothered my skin and soon sounded like a dog slobbering at his water bowl.

A finger replaced his tongue, and he pressed, invading me.

“Relax, Simon. You’re so tight.”

I tried to relax, but nothing had ever entered my arse before. I never played with my arse as I wanked alone in my room, and I never inserted anything. This was an alien experience.

My arse tightened and gripped Phil’s finger. He started to pull it in and out, and sometimes he would touch something inside me that made my cock lurch. I began to enjoy him fingering me.

Then he added a second finger. I felt the familiar stretch of my sphincter. I didn’t feel any pain, just discomfort, which was alleviated by the gentle thrusting in and out of his fingers as my muscles relaxed.

I moaned every time he touched that magic spot inside me, and my cock would twitch and sometimes would dribble precum.

“Are you ready to take me?” Phil asked as he continued to fuck me with his fingers. I grunted again.

He pulled out his fingers, and I felt his cock connect with my hole.

“It will probably hurt the moment I enter, but I’ll hold it inside, and the pain will quickly go away. Then I’ll take it slow.” Phil told me.

I lay limp, doing nothing to stop him. I was a little scared of being fucked, I heard about the pain, but I needed to try.

Phil gave me no warning as he pushed his knob inside, splitting my arse open. I yelled in pain. It hurt so bad I wanted him to pull out, but Phil placed his hand on my stomach and told me to wait.

We waited. I kept grimacing. My hole throbbed around the invading cock. Phil moved his hand down and wrapped it around my flaccid flesh. He stroked me, trying to stimulate me, but it didn’t work. It couldn’t work, not when I still felt the pain in my hole.

I sensed that Phil was becoming impatient. He imperceptibly thrust in and out. The motion eased my pain, and I relaxed. He pushed another inch inside me.

“Fuuuck!” I groaned. I loved the sensation of his cock filling me. His knob touched that magic place, and my cock woke up. It may have been soft, but a drop of precum emerged and smeared my belly. It started to grow, and Phil held it again. Stroking me as he pushed another inch inside.

My face contorted into a fusion of a grin and grimace.

Phil kept on pushing inside until I felt his pubes tickle my balls.

My body had now accepted the intrusion. Phil knew I was ready, and he slowly started to pull out. Before he cock could pop through my sphincter, he pushed back in. That was the best sensation I had felt so far in my short life. I knew I wanted a cock inside me.

Phil quickened his pace. He was fucking me, and he was soon fucking me hard. Grunts and groans came from my throat. His hand rubbing my cock as he fucked my arse.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” I grunted each time he bottomed out, the sounds reverberating in my chest.

Phil noticed the inane grin on my face and smashed his lips against mine. This was the last thing that sent me over. Arse, cock, lips. The sensations were overwhelming, and my cock erupted, spewing cum between us, covering my belly and his.

I felt my hole clamp down on the invading cock. Phil was now frantically fucking me. He was panting as he pummelled my arse. I was coming down from my orgasm as he slammed into me and came. I felt his cock throb inside me, and I imagined his thick white cum coating my insides.

Phil collapsed on me, exhausted. My cum glued us together. His cock was still inside me.

As we lay together, we panted, catching our breath. I began to feel the weight of his body on mine and a slippery sensation in my arse as his cock slowly deflated. I squeezed my hole, trying to keep him inside me for longer. It didn’t work, and his soft cock slipped free.

I felt a sense of loss.

Phil’s body weight was now suffocating, and I pushed him off me. Without his cock inside me, there was no reason to keep him on me. He collapsed next to me, and I looked at his soft cock, wet and slimy with spit and cum.

I stood up and looked around for my clothes. I glanced across the river and yelped, seeing two fishermen looking at me. I turned to hide my cock from them, but they had already seen everything.

I swiftly dressed in my ripped Lycra shorts and jersey. I rubbed my hands over my buttocks.

Two men had seen me getting fucked. They watched me lose my virginity.

I was no longer a virgin.

 

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