Pipe’s whore Part 1

Hello everyone, I’m Andres, a 26 year old, handsome, masculine, with pronounced features, short beard, and somewhat marked gym. This series of stories begins when I was 16 years old, and although there will be several men involved, there is one that to this day remains my greatest sexual desire. I hope that if you like these stories, I can tell you about my more experienced years now in times of pandemic.

The story begins in Santiago de Chile, when I was 16 years old. In those times I was already starting to be somewhat handsome, but I didn’t realize my attractiveness since I was super introverted. I attended extracurricular soccer classes at school, forced by my parents to make me socialize … if it had been up to me I would stay at home and play sports alone, not to say that interacting with other people was my forte, especially with teenagers who only made me notice my lack of sociability.

Of course, the biggest advantage of going to those extracurricular classes was to be able to see my fellow students naked in the locker room, and what better than sweaty and wiggling their dicks between meaty thighs on the way to the showers. Those were times of many hormones, difficult to control, but I was forced to keep myself in line for fear of being caught leering at them, and mainly because I myself did not accept that I liked men. It remains to say that when I got home I would always have long wanking sessions imagining all kinds of fantasies in those locker rooms.

But well, I was a shy boy, with an average dick, with a big ass that promised but whose use I still did not suspect, and a good face that no one would suspect the slut I would become later. On a normal school day, I came home almost straight home to lock myself in my room and jerk off… which one did I think of first? Benja? The dark-haired guy with green eyes, with that hairy and marked ass, that circumcised dick resting on a pair of big balls that made my mouth water just imagining it.

Or Gonza? Another dark-haired, green-eyed, very slim, the most popular guy he had to be, but so unpleasant as a person. With his cocky look he made it clear who was at the top of the pyramid, and well, all my classmates drooling on the floor when he won a game against another school and celebrated by taking off his shirt, showing off his six-pack that really made you want to lick it all up, all sweaty and everything. What memories of that dressing room, Gonza’s cock was incredible… flaccid it looked fat and long, resting on those big balls full of milk. You could tell he shaved them, but he left some hair at the base of the shaft, decorating those veins that promised a championship erection. Ufff how many times had I imagined how big he must have had it hard, or the size of his ejaculation. And to top it all off, her legs were marked and with a fine layer of blonde hair adorning her dark skin. A big muscular ass that made you want to plunge your nose and tongue in there for an eternity.

If I told you about all my hot partners, well, we could go on all day… but the truth is that Benja and Gonza took the prize. I mean, they would take the prize if it wasn’t for Pipe. Pipe was 18 years old at the time, he was a classmate of my older sister’s generation, and he looked handsome beyond description. He had the face of a masculine, white, well marked, hazel eyes and a smile that was to die for. I still remember that time on the bus ride home, when he joked with his classmates: “You guys are still very young, you don’t know what it’s like to have a dick when you’re an adult. And mine, if you saw my balls, you’d shit your pants”. One of his classmates, Pablo, looked at him defiantly and said, “I don’t believe you have so many balls if you don’t show them”.

Pipe: “Oops, this little faggot came out. I don’t have to show anything to an asshole who doesn’t even have a hair on his head”.

Pablo, embarrassed, shuts up and withdraws in his seat. I look at Pipe’s smile with curiosity, admiring the confidence that emanates from his superiority over Pablo. My eyes drift to his arms, scarred, somewhat sweaty from a day of heat and afternoon soccer practice. His eyes meet mine for a second, as if reading my desire, and now his smile seems to mock me from his throne of a macho man who knows he is desired.

I pull back almost imperceptibly, seeking refuge from that look, feeling exposed, but at the same time reassuring myself that he has no way of knowing I’m gay. If I don’t know I’m gay myself, how is he going to know. And with those thoughts the bus arrives at my house and I say goodbye to my friends, and I only see Pipe in the distance, now driving away in that yellow wreck that allowed me to unload my most hidden fantasies.

A few months passed, and in my social isolation I felt exposed. I didn’t have a girlfriend when most of my peers either had or had had one, and also because I didn’t hang out with many people I was considered a freak. I irrationally felt that my peers, seeing me as a freak, identified me as gay, but it was all just part of my internal contradictions and inability to accept my sexuality. I believed that everyone saw in me what I myself was unable to see. And after rationalizing and rationalizing to calm the anxiety of maybe not being heterosexual, I would shrug off those delusions of being the center of the table for others. Why would anyone waste their time guessing about my sexuality? Those looks of suspicion I saw on everyone, had to be looks of pity or weirdness from a little boy who couldn’t find his place in that school.

Except for one look… one look that did bring back all my insecurities to the point of being afraid of being exposed. I don’t know if it was his smile, or those beautiful and penetrating eyes, but every time he looked at me I felt naked in front of him. As if he could do whatever he wanted with me, without me knowing all that that could imply. One day I went to the bathroom during break time, and I was peeing in a urinal when Pipe and a friend of his arrived and went to the urinals next door. I was petrified with fear, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the wall even though every fiber in my body was screaming to turn around and see what that package that had fueled so many dreams and handjobs promised.

I managed to control myself, shake it off, zipper it up and walk to the sink exhaling the tension. It was a row of sinks in front of a large, horizontal mirror. I would glance sideways at the mirror to see when Pipe and his friend would appear behind that curtain of ceramics that hid a treasure of intoxicating masculinity. And so Pipe appeared, approaching the sink and zipping up his zipper, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he pulled it up, and all of a sudden he pulled down the gray school pants that for so long hid that little bundle. His friend says “What’s wrong with you?! Hahahahaha why are you doing that?! I gawk at his prominent package marked in his black boxers. It shows flaccid through the fabric, promising to be thick. It can’t be normal that it looks so big. Maybe you have huge balls…to be continued.

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