Kevin Armstrong - Burmese Boy

This time, going up in the ancient elevator, I found myself alone with a very cute Chinese young guy. He had the most luscious lips and I wasn’t so worried about the jolting of the elevator. If it jammed and ground to halt I knew how I would be spending my time until rescued! As the door opened the young guy turned and cheekily gave my package a squeeze. A good start.

Again in the dark I felt probing hands. Very soon I was in a small room (no chub audience this time) in the arms of a beautiful young Chinese guy called Paul. Again he was fine-boned and tall and brimming over with good health. Bless that British heritage. As he cuddled me and wanked my cock Paul suggested that we could meet up later. Perhaps he could come back to my hotel tonight? Where was I saying? We could have dinner and we could spend the whole night fucking. Paul would be my friend for ever, he would be my Hong Kong boy and maybe one day…? He said he would leave his phone number at my locker. This was all sounding rather familiar.

Paul was such a glorious fuck that I really wasn’t interested in anyone else so I went through and listened to the Chinese opera before having a shower. Then I went to my locker, looking forward to getting Paul’s phone number. When I arrived I looked at the rows and rows of lockers. How was the boy supposed to leave a number outside my locker? I turned around and saw Paul standing at the bar. He looked right through me as if we’d never met let alone fucked. I started to consider that with both Eric and Paul I’d been taking part in some sort of Hong Kong gay fantasy. It is their way of conjuring up a kind of relationship while in fact they are having sex with a complete stranger.

Of course, whether we are gay or straight we all have a “first-time” unless we are out-and-out virgins. It’s a monumental step for all and I’ve sometimes wondered if it is not even more so for gay boys. There are often issues crowding around. Does the boy know that he’s gay before it happens? Is he really straight but just experimenting? Is this a ‘phase’ that he will grow out of? Is he bi? Will he ever be able to go with girls? Will he ever want to go with girls? And of course there are the other issues – “Will I have to come out? Who will I come out to? Will I keep it a secret in case it’s a passing phase? Will the other boy tell? My God, will the story go round my school?”

Then of course, there are the young boys who don’t really have a choice about their “first time.” Perhaps they are wards of the state and living in orphanages… prey to the groping hands and raping cocks of disgusting “brothers”, priests and social workers. With all of the judicial enquiries and Royal Commissions at the moment looking into the activities of these creeps and the way in which many of their churches and charities chose to cover up their activities – it’s a wonder that they are not deemed to be criminal organizations.

My first time came when I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I think I’ve mentioned before in these memoirs that I grew up in a very isolated city. When I was in my early teens I’d never heard of homosexuality let alone ‘gay’ sex. My friends and I had it dinned into us at school and the Boys Scouts that it was filthy and indecent to even think of touching girls. I’d only recently discovered wanking.

Anyway one morning I was strolling through the suburb of Applecross with my best friend Jason. He came from an Anglo-Indian family and had thick, black swept-back hair in the fashion of the time. I suppose you would say that he was incredibly handsome although I hadn’t yet reached the age where I thought about such distinctions. Jason came from a wealthier family than mine. He went to a private school on the other side of the river whilst I attended the local high school. We lived around the corner from each other and of course, we belonged to the same Boy Scout troop. Jason’s dad worked in insurance and after hours he had a second career – singing and playing guitar and presenting his “Rock Around the Clock” act in pubs. In this respect Jason was taking after his father and loved to replicate the soppier ballads of Elvis Presley. This made him incredibly popular at parties.

It was a Saturday morning so we weren’t wearing our school uniforms, just shorts and tee shirts. We were passing the Boy Scout hall. He looked at the adjoining toilet block and said he wanted to take a leak. I was feeling a bit of a twinge myself so I said I’d go along with him. We went into the male toilet, stood next to each other at the stainless steel urinal and started pissing. I couldn’t help myself – I looked down and was surprised to see that his very dark cock was hard. It jutted like a pole out of his flies as he hosed the steel. I couldn’t help myself, my own cock started to pulse and rise. Of course Jason was aware of this – he reached over and took hold of my cock with his left hand. I was amazed. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched my cock. As he squeezed my foreskin and started to wank he took my right hand and placed it on his own cock. Of course I started to reciprocate. I delighted in pulling his skin forward so that the head disappeared and then jerking it back. I discovered during my first time that it definitely feels a lot sexier if you have someone else to wank your cock for you.

I felt the pressure building. Jason seemed to sense this and his stroking became more vigorous. There was no holding back and I splashed great dollops of cum into the urinal. This was incredible. I’d shot more spunk than ever before. Was this because I had a friend wanking my cock for me I wondered? Jason seemed to admire the jets and even after the last drops he continued to wank my skin furiously. I had to gently remove his hand because my organ was sensitive and it suddenly felt very fragile. However Jason was still as hard as a pole so I kept on wanking his cock. Although I now felt satisfied and the urge had gone I somehow knew that it would be very bad mannered of me if I stopped wanking my friend before he’d blown his load.

Soon enough he was squirting his spurts of cum. I shook the end of Jason’s cock for him and he hastily started to stow it away in his shorts. We both looked around. What would we have done if someone, an older guy had walked into the dunny while we were in the middle of our wank? Well, you don’t think of such things in the heat of the moment.

We hadn’t uttered a word during the whole incident. Jason looked at me and I knew that our first time certainly wouldn’t be our last.

After that most weekends we would find ourselves walking past the toilet block and of course within moments we were tugging on each other’s weapons. After the first few times I also released Jason’s balls from his shorts so I could play with them and he did the same to me. Incredibly, over weeks of wanking we were never interrupted.

Eventually we became more adventurous and rode our bikes out into the country side. Here in a thicket, or in the middle of a field we felt secure enough to take off all of our clothes so we could admire each other.

Looking back over the years I can still see Jason grinning and looking down at himself and saying:

“Very big cock.”

It was an inch bigger than my own pale cock but I was chuffed when he told me he loved the look of it. We never graduated to anything like cock sucking or arse playing but we became fairly virtuosic at wanking – changing rhythm regularly, fingering the inside of the foreskin, stroking the ultra-sensitive region behind the head, gently squeezing the balls. I especially loved it when Jason would wrap one hand around the base of my cock and firmly wank the foreskin with the other until it seemed as if I would blow to the heavens.