Encounter at the Bowling Alley
 by: Hankster

© 2014 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

(Dedicated to my buddy, John Sullivan) 

Authors Note:  This story is a work of fiction.  It is based on my first awareness of wishful thinking about enjoying sex with a man.  The encounter was real.  The subsequent tale is a figment of the imagination, and yearnings, of a fifteen year old boy.  Actually, it was what the boy wished had resulted from the encounter.  All the names in the story are fictitious.  HWB

Part One

Close Encounters of the First Kind

(Reality) 

It was the winter of 1945.  I had just turned fifteen.  World War II was raging full force, but we had the Germans on the run.  The atom bombs had not yet been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, so there was no good reason to believe that the war with Japan would end any time soon.

Back then, bowling alleys did not have mechanical pin setters.  Setting pins was a high-demand, after school job for a high school boy to have.  The house got twenty-five cents a line, and the pin boy got a nickel a line.  I was lucky enough to have a job as a pin setter in a local bowling alley.  I worked three nights a week.  I couldn’t work on weekends because on Saturdays I had to help my dad in his tobacco shop in downtown Brooklyn.  He didn’t pay me, but I averaged about $14 a week as a pin setter; big money for a fifteen year old boy in those days.

Most of us boys “hopped” the alleys, and managed to set two lanes at a time.  I was so agile and adept, that I could handle three.  I didn’t know I had that ability until the day Lt. Frankel came into my life.

One night I was hopping two alleys.  There were two open lanes to my left.  The boss waved me over, and told me that he had a single bowler, and could I hop the third alley so the customer could bowl before closing time.  I said I would try, and learned to my delight, that I didn’t slow down at all.  In fact, after that night, I often hopped three lanes in a pinch.

After a while I only had one alley to set anyway, as the single bowler was the only one left.  It was almost closing time.  He bowled six games, and I went up to him to collect my thirty-cent tip.  Imagine my delight when he gave me a dollar.  As he wiped his bowling ball, and removed his bowling shoes, he informed me that he was a Lieutenant, Junior Grade, in the Navy, and he had recently been stationed at Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn, NY.  We both lived near the airfield, which was a naval base during the war.  The Bowling Alley was also nearby.

He told me that he intended to come to bowl after work as often as possible, and he would try to get me as his pinsetter.  I was really pleased, and now I had a chance to get a good look at him.  He was average height, black hair, brown eyes, and he had a small mustache, which I hated.  It wasn’t Hitler like, but it disturbed me.  He was a little overweight, but he was very friendly and he smiled a lot.  I figured he was in his early thirties, but he was probably younger.  To a teen-ager everyone looks older.

“I’m Mike Frankel,” he said as he stuck out his hand to shake mine.  “Call me Mike.”  Hell, I was only fifteen.  I hadn’t shaken too many grown men’s hands yet, and he made me feel so very adult. 

“Henry Barron,” I mumbled back.  “Everyone calls me, Hank.”

Over the next few weeks, Mike became my regular customer.  Depending on what time he arrived, he either bowled six or eight games.  He always tipped me at least a dollar; two, if he bowled eight games.  After each of his sessions, we would chat for a bit before going our separate ways.  I loved those chats.  I loved the smell of him.  He always smelled of Brylcreem hair gel, and his civilian clothing had a faint aroma of stale tobacco.  He was never without a cigarette in his hand when he wasn’t actually bowling. 

Early on, he asked me how I got home.  I told him that I commuted by bus, and he asked how often the busses ran this late at night.  I admitted that I sometimes had to wait as long as forty-five minutes.  After that, he insisted on driving me home.  In those days, cars did not have consoles.  They had what were called bench seats.  I don’t know why I did it, but I sat closer to Mike than was necessary.  He seemed to like it.

Part Two

Close Encounters of the Second Kind

(Fantasy) 

The first couple of times he drove me straight home, but before I got out of the car, he leaned over and gave me a hug.  I was really surprised, but I loved how it felt.  You see, I had already figured out that I was queer, (I don’t think anyone used the term ‘gay’ until years later) and his hug felt really nice.

The third time, he said he had a stop to make, and he surprised me by taking us to an ice cream parlor which was open until midnight.  We parked in the parking area behind the store.  It was late, and we were the only car there.  The lot was dark, and it seemed a little eerie to me.  We got out of the car, and he smiled, put his arm around my shoulder, and said, “My treat.”

Mike had a sundae, and I had an ice cream soda.  The treat was wonderful, but I was delighted that I could spend extra time with Mike.  I didn’t realize it then, but I had fallen in love with him.  In my bed at night, I would imagine all sorts of perverted acts that he and I would perform together.  My cock would stiffen and I would be happy to relieve it of its stress. 

When we left the store, and went around the back to get back in the car, I told Mike that I had to pee.  “Me too,” he said, and without further ado, he dropped his trousers to his ankles, whipped out his cock, and proceeded to spray the back brick wall of the parking lot.  Of course, I did the same.  I was standing very close to him, and we peed together, he with his big thing, and me with my smaller one.  I accidentally splashed some pee on his leg, and he howled.  Then he returned the favor by aiming his spray at me.  I tried to run away with my pants around my ankle.  We both laughed like hyenas.

Spring was just around the corner.  The days were warming, and we began to visit the ice cream parlor almost every time he drove me home.  When we would stop for a traffic light, Mike would lean over and gently rub my knee and my inner thigh.  I guess he wanted to show his affection for me.  I wondered if he could tell that I was getting an erection.  I never said anything, but I never stopped him either.  After a while, I felt I had to let him know how much I liked it, when he touched me so intimately.  The next time he put his hand on my thigh, I sighed loudly, and said, “It feels so good when you touch me like that.”

“I kind of thought so.  I wouldn’t mind if you touched me like that,” he said.  I didn’t need to be told twice.  I began to run my hand along his inner thigh.  That’s all we did that night.

The next time he caressed my leg, he went almost to my cock.  I moved forward a little, and spread my legs to give him better access.  Hell, my fantasy was coming true.  Unfortunately the light changed and he removed his hand.  That didn’t stop me.  While he was driving, I put my hand high up his leg, and actually had the nerve to touch his package. 

“Oh God,” he murmured.  “That feels so good.  Please don’t stop, Hank.”  He fumbled with his fly, and took his cock out.  I don’t know what possessed me, but I started to jerk him off.  He had a big, cut dick, and I was barely able to wrap my fist around it.  He pulled the car over on a very dark street, and he begged me to take him all the way.  He tried to suppress his scream when he came, but he still growled pretty loud.  He made quite a mess, but he took a box of tissues out of the glove compartment, and cleaned both of us up as best he could.

“Take your cock out,” he ordered kindly.  I whipped it out, thinking he was going to whack me off, but he leaned over and enveloped me into his mouth.  I didn’t mind his mustache at all for a change.  His tongue bathed my prick, as he sucked me like a lolly-pop.  It was my first blow job, and I was floating somewhere in outer space.  I whispered that I was near, and he began to play with my balls. 

There was no mess this time.  He swallowed everything I gave him. 

“God, you taste so sweet,” he whispered to me.  I had often tasted my own cum, and I was jealous, so I asked him, “Can I do that to you, please?”

“Sure, but not tonight.  We’ve got to get you home.”

“He stopped in front of my house.  The street was pitch black.  He leaned over and kissed me.  He parted my lips with his tongue and gave me my first wet kiss.

“What are your weekends like?” he asked.

“I work Saturdays, but I’m free all day Sunday.”

“Can you get away this Sunday?”

“Sure, my folks don’t question me anymore.”

“Can you be at the corner of Seventeenth Avenue and Sixtieth Street at nine on Sunday morning?  We’ll spend the day together.”

I answered him by grabbing his package and kissing him with an open mouth.  I don’t know how I got so bold.

Part Three

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

(Fantasy) 

I was at our rendezvous corner at 8:30.  Mike arrived at 8:45.  I guess he was as anxious as I was.  He drove us to a quiet tree lined street, and he pulled into the driveway of a townhouse cramped in the middle of a long stretch of row houses.  I don’t know why, but I expected Mike to be living in an apartment.  I think he could see the confusion on my face, because he was prompted to explain, “I shared this place with my lover.  He was killed at Anzio last year.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Forget it.  There’s nothing any of us can do about it.  Promise me that all we’ll think about today is having a good time.”

I smiled, and Mike enveloped me in his arms.  “Have you had breakfast?” he asked. 

“Sure.”

“Let’s get up to my bedroom.” He took my hand and we bounded up the stairs to his bedroom.  At my home, I shared a bedroom with my kid brother, and slept on a twin bed.  Mike had a standard-sized bed, and it looked huge to me.

He began to undress.  He was only wearing a pair of slacks and a tee shirt, so he was naked in no time.  I just stood there staring at him.

“Come on, sweetie (I was shocked when he said that), get undressed.  As I stripped I had a good chance to examine his body.  He was about five feet, ten inches tall.  I was about five/seven at the time, but I grew to five/nine.  I hadn’t realized how muscular he was.  Originally, I thought he was a little overweight under his clothes, but he was pure muscle.   His cock was cut, and it was huge.  He was already hard and it had to be about eight inches, but it was the thickness that got me.  I knew it would be a struggle for me to do to him what he had done to me.  I wasn’t fully developed yet, but he didn’t seem to care.

What impressed me most at the moment was the smell of him.  The odor of stale tobacco was mixed with the aroma of a mildly sweaty body, and his hair gel added to the mix.  His scent made me a little dizzy with anticipation.

He picked me up and kissed me, as he laid me gently on his bed.  He had removed the covers, or they had never been put on that day.  The sheet felt cool to my naked butt.  He laid his body gently on top of me, and I marveled that I didn’t feel any weight at all.  Maybe it was because I was so scared.  We kissed with open mouths and feather-tickling tongues for what seemed like hours.  I could feel his hard manhood rubbing against mine.  My cut cock was probably stretched to about five inches now.

He stopped kissing me for a moment and started to tousle my brown, curly hair.  He stared longingly at my green eyes, and smiled.  “Please,” I finally had a chance to whisper, “You promised I could suck your cock.”

“Patience, my little virgin.  We are both going to suck cock, but we aren’t going to cum.  When we feel we can’t hold back any longer, we’ll fuck each other.”

I actually shivered at the thought of his monster cock invading me, but at the same time, I wanted it badly.  He felt me shudder, and the sweet, sensitive man said, “Don’t worry.  I’ll prepare you so that you won’t feel any pain, only pleasure.”

I was reassured, and I smiled at him.  Again I pleaded, “Please let me suck your cock.” 

“Me first,” he said.  He was already lying on top of me.  He started to kiss his way down my body.  He kissed me inside my ears, and nipped gently at my nipples.  I felt sensations entirely new to me, and found myself purring. 

He tickled my innie with his tongue.  My pubic hair was sparse, and he licked my pubic area until I wanted to faint.  Finally he took my cut, not quite fully developed cock, into his mouth.  But he only teased me for a few moments, and then stopped.

He smiled and rolled over on his back.   “Your turn,” he said.  I intended to savor the moment.  I fondled and stroked his cock and his balls.

“Nice,” he kept repeating over and over.  Finally, I leaned over, opened wide, and got about two-thirds of him into my mouth.  I tried to do everything he had done to me a couple of minutes ago.  My tongue ran up and down his shaft, and tickled his crown.  My lips gently pumped his rod.  I was just getting into the swing of it when he stopped me.

“I don’t want to stop,” I protested.

“Hush, lover.  I told you that I didn’t want to cum in your mouth, but in your ass.  We’ll have another session this afternoon after lunch.  OK?” 

I did remember what he said, and I smiled at him.  He leaned over, and began to suck my cock again.   I felt the stirring in my groin even quicker than he had when I had sucked him, and I was compelled to stop him.  Much to my chagrin, he got out of bed, and retrieved something from his bathroom.  It was an oversized jar of Vaseline.  The use of condoms between two men was unheard of in those days.  The only time they were used was when fucking a prostitute, or for birth control.

“I’ll let you fuck me first,” he said.  It’ll be easy.  Then we’ll spend some time getting you ready for me.”

“All I could muster was an “Uh huh.” 

Mike coated my stiff prick with Vaseline.  He didn’t bother to put any up his ass.  He lay down on his back, slid to the edge of the bed, and raised his knees to his chest.  I could clearly see his puckered, pink asshole.  He pulled his cheeks apart and bade me enter.  In fact, thinking back on it, he pleaded for me to enter.

“Go slow,” he said.  I entered him a centimeter at a time, and when I was all the way in, I was stopped by his bubbly ass cheeks.

“Ah,” he sighed, “that feels so good.  It’s been so long.  Neither of us moved.  Then Mike instructed me to pump, just like I was fucking a woman.  I had never fucked a woman, but I got the picture.

I began to pump slowly, and it didn’t matter.  I immediately felt like I was going to cum.  I stopped to let it subside.  Mike smiled at me.  He knew what I was going through.  “Let yourself go,” he instructed.  “I told you we’ll do it again after lunch.” 

I began to pump again, and Mike yelled, “Harder, harder.”  I didn’t know how to pump harder, so I pumped faster.  That seemed to do the trick.  I came gushing up his ass, and I collapsed on top of him.  He threw his arms around me and held me tight.

“I almost came,” he said, “but I would much prefer to cum inside of you.  How was your first time, mate?”

I was speechless, so I just smiled at him as my cock fell out of his ass.  We switched positions, and I got myself ready just as he had.  What happened next, was a shocker, a complete surprise.  He went down on his knees and started to lick up and down my crack.  He tried valiantly to put the tip of his tongue up my ass, but I was so tight that he couldn’t manage.  I didn’t learn until much later that what he was doing was called rimming.  I vowed to do that to him next time.  Then it began.  He greased my ass hole with his middle finger, swabbing it inside and all around.  I screamed out to let him know how wonderful it felt.

“Stay happy and relaxed,” he advised me as he inserted another greased finger.  The brief pain I felt subsided quickly.  Mike gently massaged my ass hole with the two greased fingers, and reamed around the edge like he was cleaning out a chimney.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Just great.  When will you really fuck me?”

“Patience, young man.  We have to do at least one more finger.”  He pushed a third finger in, and I winced with pain.

“Stay relaxed, honey.  It always hurts at first, but the results are worth it.”

Suddenly, he withdrew all his fingers.  My ass felt empty and cold.  I felt another strange sensation.  Mike had pushed his well-greased cock-head against my asshole opening.  Again he warned me, “This is going to hurt at first.  Grin and bear it.  You’ll be glad you did.”  With that he pushed in about an inch.  I put my fists in my mouth to keep from screaming.  He stopped, let me get used to him thus far, and he went in a little more.

When he stopped, I said, “It’s not bad.  Please keep going.”  So he pushed a little more, and penetrated my virgin sphincter.  I screamed with pain, but once he went through the resistant muscle, he kept going in easily.  When he was all the way in, he leaned over me.  He kissed me and stroked my forehead and my chin, and begged me to relax.  I tried hard to do that, and little by little the pain disappeared.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I informed him, and he took a tentative stroke out about an inch. Then he pushed in again.  He stopped to ask me how that felt. “Like a million bucks,” I answered.  “I think you can pump now,” and he did.  He must have been rubbing on my prostate, because suddenly, I felt like I was in heaven.  Before I knew what happened, I had another orgasm.  It wasn’t as intense as the other one, but it was great.

Suddenly, Mike started to breathe heavily.  I could no longer feel his balls slapping against my butt.  They had hardened and constricted, and he came high up my ass.  He growled eerily, as I could feel his seed shooting inside of me.  Once again I was transported to another realm.  He stayed in me as long as he could, but as he softened he began to fall out.  I begged him not to leave me, but nature had other ideas.

Mike whispered in my ear, “We’ll do this again after lunch, my handsome little boy.  Don’t imagine that I am anywhere near done with you.”

Mike picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.  We showered together, and I had to ask him how I was able to cum, when neither of us touched my cock.  That’s when he taught me about the prostate gland.

He made us tuna salad sandwiches for lunch, and we didn’t bother to dress.  He enjoyed a cigarette with lunch, and offered me a puff.  I accepted, and immediately began to cough.  He laughed, and told me that smoking was another thing I would learn to enjoy.

Later when we were back in bed, I begged him to fuck me first, because I hated when he fell out of me when he fucked me for the first time.  Before he did, I gave him a sensuous, very slow blow job, and got him good and hard.  He greased me up again, and this time he entered me doggie style, without all the preliminaries.  It hurt for a little while, but he entered much more easily.   I couldn’t wait to feel his spunk bathe my insides.  It took him longer to cum this second time, and I told him that I appreciated that.

He did the same to me.  He sucked me until I was as hard as I would ever get.  Being so close to the object of all my desires, enhanced my arousal beyond my wildest dreams.  First I rimmed him.  I had not had the pleasure the first time.  It must have been wonderful, because Mike never stopped saying how nice I made him feel.

Finally, I fucked him, also doggie style.  I fear that I came as fast as I did the first time.  Mike laughed, and said that he couldn’t wait to teach me how to delay my orgasm.  He said it was a process called ‘edging.’  By mid-afternoon, we had exhausted each other.  We showered again, and Mike said, “Let’s get you home, young man.”

For the next few weeks, we managed to go down on each other in the car in the darkness of my street.  I was also able to share a few more glorious Sundays with him, and then one happy day, we were celebrating VE Day.

Mike was suddenly transferred to the Pacific Theater of Operations.  We had one last Sunday together, and we both cried a lot.  When the war ended, I waited patiently for him to visit the bowling alley, but he never did.  Was he killed in the final days of the war? Did he move out of the area?  Mike never contacted me, so I would never know.

All I knew was that Mike had turned me into an experienced, first class homosexual.  Over the next few years, as I met others of my kind, I was able to teach them everything Mike had taught me.  Whatever happened to him, and wherever he may be, his gay glory lives on in me. 

Posted: 06/06/14