My Own Adventures in Paradise

By: Pete Bruno
(© 2013 by the author)
 

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My story begins at the dawn of time—well actually it was in the first years of the great ‘Baby Boom.’  Thinking back, I seem to recall always being fascinated by men.  My earliest memories are all of men; my dad, my uncles.  Even my older brother, he of course was one of my particular heroes, but being ten years older than me he was soon out of high school and off to college.  So I quickly transferred my attention to my Uncle Nick, he was the youngest of my mother’s brothers, and very good-looking.  He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was handsome, with a muscular build and lots of dark hair

When I eight we moved to the suburbs like thousands of other American families, escaping the congestion and heat of the city.  Of course I was furious with my parents; I was leaving the only life I ever knew.  Everything I wanted could be found on my block, from ice cream to penny candy and comic books and baseball cards.  Then there was the issue of my friends: how could they be so cruel, I would be out in the suburbs all alone?  Thankfully I wasn’t alone in my outrage, my grandmother was horrified that my parents were taking us ‘out into the country’; my father’s answer was, “Come on Ma, for heaven’s sake, it’s only five miles from your house!” 

So there I was, in the hot August of ’58 in a new house, having to make new friends.  That wasn’t such a hard thing to do; the still unpaved streets were filled with kids my age.  Starting school in September I had already become part of group of boys and in less than a month I forgot about my friends in the city.  The school year flew by and before I knew it we were turning in our books and picking up our report cards. 

Summer at last.  This was my favorite time of the year.  I loved going to the shore with my parents on the weekends.  The fresh ocean breezes were wonderful, but getting to play on the beach all day was really cool, not to mention getting to look at the men in their bathing suits which strangely was starting becoming more of an obsession with me.  Why, I didn’t know, but I took every opportunity to catch a glimpse.  And then there were those special nights when we go to go to the “boards” to ride the rides and play a few games; they were the cherry on top!

My grandparent’s home had a large living and dining room where at night mattresses were brought down from the attic and we all got to sleep on the floor.  It also meant more chances to see my father, uncles, and male cousins in their underwear.  During one of our weekend visits I went to go use the outdoor shower.  I opened the door and there was my uncle, just pulling up his shorts, I got a quick glimpse of his cock. 

I just said, “Sorry, Uncle Nick,” and ran out of the stall.  The quick glimpse was burned into my memory and I stored it away for the times when I was alone and could indulge in my favorite activity at home, rubbing my cock against my mattress until my body tingled down to my toes.  But just as I was reliving the sight of his hairy body and his uncircumcised cock he came out of the shower and called me over.  

“Hey Jerry, you want to go crabbing with me today?” he asked

“Sure Uncle Nick,” I enthused.  Holy crap! A day out on the bay in a boat with my handsome uncle, it would be just like my favorite TV show, Adventures in Paradise, where Adam Troy sailed the South Seas on the Tiki,  I thought, as I ran to tell my dad where I was going.  

A short time later we were out on the bay in our rented boat.  I sat facing Uncle Nick while he tied chicken backs to the end of the many spools of line that we would use to catch the crabs.  As he sat, legs spread wide, his shorts were gapped and I could see the tip of his cock resting against his leg.  The sight made my heart race he looked up at me and must have noticed that I was flustered.  He didn’t say anything; he just spread his legs further and gave me a better view.  For four hours we gently pulled the baited lines up and quickly caught the clinging, unsuspecting crabs into the net.  It took all of my concentration because my main interest lay between his hairy legs.  In between pulling up the baited lines I would try and steal looks between down there, and was lucky enough to get quite a few good glimpses.  At one point I thought I would pass out: Uncle Nick was squatting in the boat and his balls slipped out of his shorts. 

When we got home we were hailed as heroes because we caught almost a full bushel of crabs.  Once we put our equipment in the shed Uncle Nick said, “Come on Jerry, you come take a shower with me.”

I froze in my tracks: I would be in the same shower with him naked! 

While we showered together, Uncle Nick chatted away about how well I did crabbing while I memorized every inch of his body, from his thick hairy legs, to his bulging chest, to his thick cock.  It is a memory I would carry with me for the rest of my life; his naked masculine body, and the day we spent in the boat.

The summer cooled to fall and all too soon it was time to go back to school.  A big change this year was that I would be starting fifth grade at a new school.  Our parish had opened its own school and about half of our neighborhood was attending, which made me very happy, although I was going to have to spend all day with Sister Regina Agnes, my extremely stern catechism teacher from the previous year, but at least I would have a few buddies to make it bearable. 

Leaving the public school where I was one of forty-five kids crammed into a classroom I was going to one with only eighteen others; that was a big change.  The other was the very life-like thirty-six inch crucifix that hung in the center of the wall just above the black board.  It was extremely graphic, right down to the bright red blood dripping off of Jesus’ head where the crown of thorns sat.  Sister Regina-Agnes told us that first day that every time we lied or sinned we would drive the thorns deeper into Jesus’ head.  That was a powerful image that haunted my life as well as those of my friends through puberty.  For every boy, who basically sinned every thirty seconds or so, whether he was thinking of the girl with the budding breasts or what his buddies cock looked like, the next thought was always of Sister pointing to the cross! 

Then on a quiet Saturday, late in September of 1959, life at ten was about to change forever, but the funny thing was I didn’t know it at the time.  My friend Robert (Robbie to me only) and I were going door to door selling Christmas cards and wrapping paper, a fundraiser for our fledgling new school.  As we made our way around, peddling our wares, Robbie and I would take turns making the sales pitch.  When we got to the Morgan’s house it was his turn.  We hoped we were the first there and could make an easy sale.  The Morgan’s had only just moved into the neighborhood, and we knew from hearing our mothers talking over coffee that they were Irish but not Catholics.  They were a very young couple, having just turned twenty-one (which seemed old to Robbie and me) and, while they didn’t yet have any school-aged children, they did have two little girls, one just over a year old and another only three months.  Our mothers laughed at that, calling them Irish twins.  Robbie and I didn’t understand what that meant, but we couldn’t ask because we would reprimanded for eavesdropping, so we just let it go.   

Robert rang the doorbell and Mrs. Morgan appeared.  Robbie explained why we were there and she invited us in to look over the samples.  Leading us into the living room, she sat on the sofa and Robert sat next to her, I just stood next to Robert.  As he was going over our pre-arranged sales pitch while showing the samples I stood by looking around the living room and happen to look down the hallway towards the bedrooms.  Our new suburban neighborhood had only three styles of houses endlessly duplicated; Bi-Level, Split-Level and Colonial.  The Morgan’s house was a Bi-Level, which was sometimes called a ‘Raised Ranch’, having the three bedrooms and a bath on the same level as the kitchen, living, and dining rooms.  The lower level had another bedroom with a large family room and another bath.

Looking down the hallway, I was lucky enough to catch Mr. Morgan crossing from the bedroom to the bathroom in just his underwear, not the regular boxers like my dad wore, but tight white briefs like mine.  He stopped and looked at me, I’m sure he must have noticed me staring because he kind of just stood there for a minute.  He looked just like my absolute favorite TV star, Gardner McKay, and just like Gardner he was tall and handsome.  As I was staring he winked at me and then walked into the bedroom.  I stood there imagining Adam Troy/Gardner McKay forever sailing around the South Seas on board the Tiki in my favorite TV show, Adventures in Paradise, and now I knew from then on I would always be thinking of Mr. Morgan instead; standing in his briefs, with his hairy chest and the line of hair that went down over his tight stomach and the big bulge in the front. 

Robert hitting my leg brought me back to the world; he was thanking Mrs. Morgan who had ordered three boxes of cards and five packs of wrapping paper, our biggest sale yet.  We thanked her again and were on our way out the door, with me looking back hoping that Mr. Morgan would reappear.  For the rest of the day I kept picturing Mr. Morgan and me on a sailboat, a fantasy that was replayed quite a bit over the next couple of years. 

I was thirteen years old when I discovered masturbating, well kind of.  I had my first orgasm when I was twelve, but it was an accident.  Waking up with my twelve year-old cock pressed into the mattress, I began to think of Mr. Morgan, as I had done so many times.  Rubbing it back and forth however brought forth a new sensation: my body started to tingle, my heart started to pound and I felt like I had to pee.  Then it happened; my first load of boy juice flooded my shorts.  The sticky wetness heightened my pleasure.  Even though it felt fantastic, as soon as I stopped shaking and looked in my shorts, I panicked.  I had no idea what just happened, I knew it felt great, but what was I going to do with the mess in my shorts?  This was something I repeated as often as I could, once I learned how to hide the evidence.  Of course I told my best friend Robbie about it and he was anxious to try it himself. 

Soon after our thirteenth birthday in the spring of ’63, Robbie and I learned a really cool way to do it.  He found it out by catching his older brother one day when he thought he was home alone. His brother was lying on his bed in the room they shared with his pants around his ankles.  His legs were spread and he was stroking his hard cock up and down, really fast. 

As Robbie explained it, his brother kept moaning and then with a grunt he shot his load of cum all the way up to his chin.  Of course he had to share this knowledge with me and we began to practice ourselves.  We had a few of my older brother’s Playboys that I had managed to liberate from his vast collection without being caught, which I stashed in the loft of an old barn just behind the new 7-11 a few blocks from our house.  The two of us began jerking off on a regular basis, but that was all we knew to do, except sometimes we would jerk each other while looking at the pictures.  Robbie was really into the big tits on the girls in the pictures, while I was more interested in his cock and pretending it was Mr. Morgan. 

Just after school was out in June, my parents had taken my brother and sisters into the city to see my Grandparents.  I was allowed to stay behind because I had a paper route and I was now fifteen.  It was an afternoon paper and they were dropped off at two p.m. on a corner two blocks over.  It took me at least an hour to fold and rubber-band them and then stuff them into the basket on my bike. 

The Morgan’s were one of my customers and I always hoped it would be Mr. Morgan there when I collected on Fridays, but sadly he never was home from work in time.  But today I was hoping fortune would smile upon me; there had been no answer when I rang the bell to collect the day before, so I was hoping that he would be there today. 

When I got to the house I saw him in the side yard mowing the lawn.  He was wearing very short cut-off shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt that clung to his well-defined pecs and showed his impressive arms, not to mention the exciting hair showing above the neckline.  Again, I was imagining him and me sailing around the Coral Sea just like Adam Troy. 

Riding up the drive I came to a sharp stop in front of him and told him I was collecting.  He was very friendly and smiled a lot while we talked. It was almost comical; me this awkward fifteen year-old boy and him—the young twenty-six year old father of now three.  He told me that Mrs. Morgan was away for the weekend with the children visiting her sister, and he was getting caught up on chores.  He asked me about school, sports and my hobbies.  I was over the moon having an adult take such interest in me.  It was funny that he seemed to me to be so adult, when in reality he was just a year older than my brother.  It was during this conversation that we discovered our mutual love of trains.  He invited me to come over the next afternoon around one and he would show me his set-up.  Then he paid me for that week’s papers and gave me a fifty cent tip, which was huge, considering the week’s papers only cost a $1.10! 

Racing through my route, I got home and my parents were still not in, so I rushed to my room and stripped off my shorts.  Lying on the bed on my back, I grabbed my cock and began to beat off, dreaming of floating around the Pacific with Mr. Morgan, just the two of us naked on the deck of the Tiki floating on the ocean blue.  The next thing I knew my cock was throbbing and I shot my stuff all the way up to my chest.  Before the day was over I had jerked off two more times, once while dreaming of another boat trip and another when Robbie came over.

The next morning while we serving the ten o’clock Mass, all I could think about was visiting Mr. Morgan.  Off course I wasn’t paying attention, and when it came time for me to ring the bells I forgot, Father Murphy had to clear this throat and shoot an angry glance over his shoulder.  Then he gave me a stern lecture in the sacristy after Mass about the importance of paying attention much to Robbie’s amusement.  Normally this dressing down would have upset me, but not today, I was going to be spending time with Mr. Morgan. 

When I made my way over to his house, I found him in the back yard, dressed the same as the day before and covered in sweat as he trimmed bushes.  He greeted me with a big smile.  He threw down his clippers and told I was just in time; he needed a break.  He stripped off his shirt and wiped his face, then under his arms and finally his hairy chest.  The sight of him doing that caused my cock to twitch in my pants, and my breath to catch in my throat.  I think he noticed, because he just stopped, with one arm behind his head exposing his hairy armpit, the air filled with the scent of sweat and Aqua Velva. 

Then he winked at me and said, “Let’s go look at the trains.” 

Through the back of the house we passed into the lower level family room, and then we moved into what was an unfinished part of the lower level.  Here his enormous platform was set up.  At more than ten feet square, it took up almost half of the room, leaving a margin of eight feet on three sides to move around in. 

It was truly amazing.  He pointed out various details; he had three sets of trains, all ‘O’ gauge.  Then there was a virtual city built from model houses, even bird gravel laid as if it were walkways along with miniature plastic telephone poles with black thread strung from them.  He even had an aluminum pie plate staple under a whole the platform filled with water and a gold fish swimming around.  But the coolest thing was the airport; he had taken a motor from an ‘Erector Set’ and placed under the platform with the crank sticking up.  Then he had pieces of solder metal attached with small plastic planes on the end.  When the motor turned the planes looked as if they were taking off and landing.  And then he said, “Follow me,” as he pulled back the black material and crawled under the platform. 

When we got to the middle, he drew a bolt back and a piece of the platform swung down so we could stand in the middle; from here you could reach the innermost parts of the display.  He hadn’t put his shirt back on and there wasn’t much space so we were touching.  I was trying to memorize what I saw so as to try it at home with my trains, but between rubbing up against him and smelling his scent, I was hard as rock in my shorts and couldn’t concentrate.  All I could think about was, thank God he can’t see the bulge in my pants!

After about fifteen minutes of this sweet torture, he asked if I would like a soda and of course I said yes and so we made our way back out from the middle of the platform.  In the family room he told me to have a seat while he got the Cokes. 

When he returned, he handed me a bottle then sat right next to me.  We continued to talk about trains, then baseball, school and finally he asked if I knew where babies came from.  Of course I told him no.  Then he asked if I masturbated.  I lied and said no.

He gave me one of his sexy smiles and said, “Come on buddy, you don’t have to lie.  You know you do it, let’s see, what, about three times a day?”  I could feel myself blush completely red and I just looked at my feet and nodded.

“Mr. Morgan, please don’t tell my dad,” I said. I had heard enough about jerking-off from him and from the awful book he bought at the church and made me read, “He’d kill me if he found out.”

“Listen buddy, first of all, when were together you can call me Art.  And second, whatever we talk about stays between us, okay?”

He said this as he held out his hand to shake.  When I grabbed it and shook, it felt like the shock you get from the carpet in the winter.  I think he noticed because while still holding my hand he winked again.  But before we could continue our conversation we heard a car horn. Damn that meant Mrs. Morgan was home, so we went to greet her and then I was on my way. 

When I got home, I luckily found the house empty and again raced to my room.  In a flash my shorts were down and I had my hard, teen cock in my hand and my imagination was focused on Art and his hairy body and bulging chest.  I could still smell his scent on my own body. I shot a load of boy cream all over my stomach.  As I lay there panting, I drifted off on my fantasy sailboat with my sailing partner, Art.  After a few minutes reverie, I came to and then I quickly cleaned up my mess so Mom wouldn’t find it.  

The following Saturday luck was once again on my side.  My parents were in the city again, and Art (as I now called him when we were alone) was cutting the lawn in what I now considered his uniform: short cutoffs and a muscle tee.  When I rode up on my bike he gave me a big smile.

“Hey buddy, I’m glad you’re here.   When you’re through, would you like to help me run some wire under the platform for street lights?” 

“Sure Mr…” he cocked an eyebrow at me, “I mean sure, Art.  I’ll be done in fifteen minutes,” I said and sped off to finish up my paper route. 

When I returned I found him in the garage working on his car, he looked up and smiled when I came in.  “Perfect timing kiddo, let’s go.”

So into the house we went and under the platform.  While we worked, most of the time I was right up against him smelling that now familiar mix of sweat and Aqua Velva.  We talked about different things.  Then he asked me if I had been jerking off.  I’m sure he couldn’t see it but I could feel myself blush from head to toe.  When I didn’t answer right away he spoke.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I told you all boys your age do it; they just lie about it.”  He went on to explain that not only did all boys do it, but even men like him and my dad did too.  Now that really blew me away.

“Really!” I said with a mixture of astonishment and relief. 

“Sure.  Look, if there is anything you ever want to know you just ask ok?” 

“Thanks, Art,” was all I could manage. 

Forty minutes later and our work complete, I was on the family room sofa while he was off getting Cokes.  When he returned he handed me a bottle and again sat right next to me.  Again he got me excited, and my mind went right to the South Pacific. 

We started talking about masturbating again and then he asked if I knew where babies came from and how men and women had sex.  When I said no, he asked I would like to learn.  Well of course the answer was yes. I mean what horny fifteen-year old wasn’t I?  As I sat next to him he started explaining how a penis fits into a vagina, and how a man moves in and out and eventually shoots his semen into the woman to fertilize her egg.

“Jerry, there is nothing better than sliding your cock in a hot pussy.” 

Hearing those words excited me beyond belief: one because they were grownup words and two because he was saying them to me. 

“Well what about jerking off?” I asked bravely.

“Well, that feels okay, but there is only one other way that a guy can have that same feeling without being with a woman.”

“How?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my seat.

“Well a guy could make his buddy feel that good by sucking on his cock,” Art said with a twinkle in his eye.  Mine was already hard and throbbing in my pants. 

But the fates intervened once again with the ringing of the phone, Art crossed the room to the answer it, and it was clear that his cock was hard too; it was tenting his loose gym shorts obscenely.  He talked for a minute and then covered the mouthpiece with his hand and, “Sorry kiddo, it’s the wife.  We’ll have to pick up our discussion another time.”  That was my signal to leave, so off I went, my hard cock pointing south in the left leg of my shorts.    

It seemed that I was destined never to have that cock sucking lesson with Art; there was always something that happened that prevented us from being alone.  However we still found time to have little discussions about jerking off from time to time.  That led to many enjoyable stroke sessions.  Robbie had moved away and so my only outlet was dreaming of Art and me sailing the South Pacific Seas. 

Then before I knew it I was eighteen and had just graduated from high school.  My parents had a small neighborhood party for me, and of course the Morgan’s were there.  At one point during the party he asked if I was free the following day, he needed help with the train platform. 

Conveniently his wife and kids were going to out of town for the next few days.  He wanted to add another section to his train platform, so I was there at ten ready to work.  Dressed in usual uniform of a tee shirt and shorts, he had my cock was half hard before we even got started.

As we worked on the platform we talked of my plans for the summer, our favorite baseball teams, and then thankfully the conversation worked its way around to sex.  He asked me if I had gotten lucky with any of the girls at school.  He was looking directly in my eyes, it was if he was looking into my soul; of course I couldn’t lie and told him no.  He gave me a small smile and said, “Well then your right arm must be getting quite a work-out.”

“Yeah,” I said and looking down at the floor in embarrassment.   

“Hey buddy, don’t be embarrassed, I’m doing it twice a day myself with the Mrs. pregnant again, whatta ya say, want to help me out?”

Art reached over, took my hand and put it on his crotch.  This was the first time I had felt the cock of a grown man and he felt enormous.  Slowly he unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, allowing me access to his briefs.  Moving my hand around, I could feel the dampness of his shorts and was getting a sense of the size of this cock.  He pulled down his briefs, tucking them under his hairy balls and spread his legs; I continued to play with his cock and balls, completely mesmerized by this married stud. 

Finally, after allowing me time to explore, he stood and removed his shorts.  It was the first time I had ever seen him nude.  He was huge.  His cock was beginning to grow, it was already up to six inches and not fully hard and his balls looked like jawbreakers at the penny candy counter. 

There was a sticky liquid leaking from the head of his cock, when I asked he explained what it was, why it dripped and what it was for.  As I ran my hands all over his body he answered all my questions, just like he was my big brother.

I was still dressed, Art said that I should get undressed as well, “I’ll bet your leaking pre-cum too!”  I started to undress; it was exciting and I was starting to feel like a man.  When I lowered my shorts, I was indeed leaking.  My raging teenaged cock slapped up against my stomach, he smiled at me, then took his finger and rubbed it over the head of my dick, taking his finger covered with my boy juice to lips and licking it clean. 

When he saw my eyes widen, he said it tasted sweet, sort of like honey. 

“Come on buddy,” he said sitting down on the couch, “sit with me.” 

After I sat, he reached over and started to stroke my cock, “Are you okay with this Jerry?”

I answered by reaching over and stroking his huge man cock.  He moaned as I ran my fingers up and down his cock, he began to leak more and more pre-cum and it made his dick slick. 

“That’s it buddy, jerk me off, make me shoot,” he said panting as stroked his slick cock.  It took about five minute, and he began to shoot loads of cum all over his hairy flat stomach and chest.  I had never seen another guy cum so much, and watching this stud unload was hot as hell!

When his breathing returned to normal, he reached under the couch and brought out a rag and wiped up his cum.  Then he asked if I would like to see what it felt like to have my cock sucked.

“Really! You’d do that for me?”

“Sure buddy, you’re almost a man now, consider this a graduation present.”

He spread my legs, and then leaned over and I went stiff all over as I felt the warmth of his mouth envelop my teenaged cock.  This was heaven, and then he stopped!  When he looked up and saw the disappointment on my face he just smiled. 

“Are you enjoying it,” he asked. 

“Yes,” I panted, “please don’t stop.”

“Okay, let me know when you’re going to cum,” he said and sucked me back deep in his throat.  It wasn’t long before I couldn’t take and more and announced that I was going to cum.   He pulled back and sucked harder on the head of my dick and I shot like a cannon!

When he was finished draining my teenage cock, he told me that what I just felt was pretty close to cumming inside a woman.  That bit of information really didn’t matter to me, what I wanted was to suck on his huge man cock and drink his cum. 

“Jerry, listen buddy, this has to be our secret.  Do you understand?”  He said looking at me very seriously.   

“Sure Art, but I have a question.”

“You can ask me anything, anytime buddy.”

“Can we do this again?”

He laughed and hugged me, “Sure buddy, we’ll have lots time to explore each other,” he said stepping back and ruffling my hair.

And so we did….

On a crisp autumn morning more than fifty years later I was exploring the new and exciting world of You Tube.  On a lark I typed in ‘Adventures in Paradise’ and to my amazement up popped one of the long forgotten episodes.  I sat backed and watched the video clip, laughing and crying at the same time.  But more amazing than the video was the erection it caused and the memories that came flooding back: the smell of sweat and Aqua Velva and the handsome Art. 

Not one to waste a good erection, especially at my age, I went off in search of my long-time partner.  We had been together since my senior year in college, quite a feat for men of our age.  He was at the kitchen counter making our lunch.  I walked up behind him and pressed my still hard cock against his ass.  He laughed and asked, “What the hell are you up to Jerry?”

“You can feel what’s up buddy, how about taking a sail on the Tiki with me, Mr. Morgan?” 

He just laughed and pushed back against me, “Only if I get to be Adam Troy!” 

CC Posted: 09/06/13