Newquay

As I slowly walked through, more curious than aroused by what was going on all around me, I tried to work out if the people around me were, as I suspected, all men or if I was making the potentially embarrassing mistake of intruding on the secretive fumblings of young heterosexual courting couples. The further I walked, though, the more convinced I became, that this was a gay area. The gentle moans and gasps which came from unseen encounters behind the bushes all seemed to be male in origin. The fleeting glimpses of activity that I got from between the trees seemed to be of hands and mouths on erect cocks, with no female equivalents. The one sexual act I saw for any significant length of time involved a cock sliding in and out of an arse: it could have been a woman's arse, of course, but the cheeks were muscular and the grunts accompanying each thrust were gruff.

I had almost reached the far end of the park, another set of gates leading out onto a deserted 1950s street, when a guy stepped out in front of me from behind a bush, his erect cock poking out from his open trousers. Until that moment I had been ready to return to the hotel, having seen what I had set out to see, perhaps replaying in my mind some of the encounters I'd witnessed as I lay on the hotel bed. But the sight of the guy ahead of me changed all that.

He was tall, with short brown hair, and was wearing a black shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his chest, and black trousers. His cock was six or seven inches long with a clearly-defined head fully exposed at the tip of it. He raised his right hand and gently masturbated himself in front of me, making the head swell bulbously between his finger and thumb as he eased his foreskin back and forth across it.

He whispered, "You wanna do somethin'?"

Although that night was my first experience of gay cruising and I'd regard myself as being more or less straight, I'd had plenty of practice at playing around with other guys and his invitation seemed quite appealing.

I asked, "Is it safe?"

He smiled and it made his face look warm and handsome. "As it gets..."

So I nodded and he gestured for me to follow him into a small space between a group of bushes just a few feet from the path. Then he yanked his jeans and underwear down around his ankles and I did the same. He glanced at my cock, half-stiff, poking outwards from my balls and nodded approvingly.

We masturbated ourselves for a few seconds and then he pushed my hand away and took over the job for me.

He whispered, "What do you like doin'?"

I shrugged. "I dunno... I'll suck you, if you wanna do me."

He asked, as he squeezed my cock and gently jerked the foreskin up and down, "Do you like fuckin'?"

I was more hesitant. "I've fucked a couple of guys... but I've never been fucked..."

"D'you wanna try?"

"I dunno... not here..."

"I've got condoms," he insisted.

"That's not the problem... I've never done it... I don't wanna start in a bush..."

He threw me a look as if to say, "Ooh, hark at Lady Muck" and then said, impatiently, "We'll just suck then... unless you change your mind..."

As he went down on me a couple more guys pushed their way into our small clearing and started kissing and playing with each others' cocks alongside us.

By the time it was my turn to take him, the other two were following our example and sucking each other in quick succession, taking brief but enthusiastic turns at each other.

The guy in the black shirt was the first to suggest we swap partners and couple up in different ways. He seemed to have his hopes pinned on getting to fuck someone and preferred his chances at getting into the arse the shorter of the two guys standing next to us. The other men readily accepted and I got the tall blonde one, who turned out to suck cock like he'd done it as a degree. He did things with my knob that I hadn't thought were possible until that night in the park at Newquay: he played with my foreskin with his teeth; he milked my piss-slit for precum with his tongue; he seemed to wrap his tonsils around my bell-end and would gently squeeze it; he caressed my balls with his lower lip. All this without missing a beat as his mouth slid up and down my shaft.

When I came to suck his cock, I felt a little inadequate. Not only was his dick at least two inches longer than mine, my technique was workmanlike at best. Whereas I kind of know my way around a girl's pussy, I've always gone through the motions of giving a blow job to a guy simply to encourage him to get to work on me. Although I tried to make things a little more interesting for him by playing with his cock inside my mouth with my tongue, I was afraid that I might accidentally bite him, and so I tended to keep things pretty simple.

After about thirty seconds of my fairly basic 'in, out, lick, in, out, lick' technique, that I must admit even I would have been a bit bored by, he pulled out and gestured for me to stand up. He smirked and whispered, "This is your first time?" I nodded, even though it wasn't, and his smile became broader.

He said, "I'll suck you, okay? Don't worry about doing anything to me..." and his eyes looked across, perhaps a little enviously, at the guy in the black shirt rimming his former partner, deftly and expertly. I could see him thinking, "So that's why he was so eager to change places..."

He knelt down in front of me again and gave me what was possibly the blow job of my life. He set about my cock with such delicacy and finesse that I was unable to stop myself moaning in appreciation, even though I knew that to do so risked being caught. While his mouth did things that my cock had only dreamed of, his slow, gentle fingers played with my balls, tickled the ridge beneath them and even, for a couple of minutes, fingered my arsehole.

About ten minutes into the blonde guy's performance, by which time I was gasping for breath like a fish out of water, the guy in the black shirt finally got his wish and fucked his new partner's arse about two feet away from us with fast, panting thrusts. He held the other man firmly around the hips, slamming his cock in and out between his cheeks with no trace of emotion; like he was merely using the other man's bum as a means of pleasuring himself as an alternative to masturbation. He came very quickly, grunting gutturally as he unloaded his semen into the condom inside the other man's rectum, and then curtly withdrew, flung the condom into the bush, and left, still zipping himself up.

The guy in front of me pulled away from my cock as his former-partner wiped his arse, and said to us both, "D'you guys wanna go over to the pavillion?"

I asked, "Where's that?" I thought he meant a night club or something.

He said, "On the other side of the lawn. It's where most of the guys go..."

I shrugged, noticing that the guy who had just been fucked had an impressive upwardly-curving erection, despite the abruptness and roughness the servicing he'd received. They seemed to be waiting for a more positive response so I nodded at them both. "Okay."

And that's how it took me so long to leave. I must have been wanked by a dozen guys, sucked by six and had my arse rimmed or fingered by four. I fucked two guys, both of whom were okay about the fact that I wasn't prepared to let them fuck me; I think the second of the two was the one who'd been fucked by the guy in the black shirt, but I can't be sure. They were both, as were most of the men I had sex with, about my age and height, and reasonably good-looking, and that was all that seemed to matter.

When I got back to the hotel it was about twelve thirty and the guys weren't back. I took a shower, washing the strong smell of male sex from me, and then went out to find them. I decided, while wandering around the pubs and clubs of Newquay looking for them, that a trip to some of my local cruising areas might well be on the agenda on our return.

But before I get into that, let's move onto my second 'first' which happened at Newquay.

This one involves my younger brother Chaz with whom I'd occasionally meet up with for alcohol-orientated weekends when he and I were at university. Newquay was the place we got so pissed that we ended up 'turning a few tricks together', as Carl would have put it, on one of the twin beds in our hotel room. Fortunately, though, I can call it a 'first' because this isn't a story that ends in guilt, shame and recriminations: the two of us accepted what we'd done together and have had a few intermittent repeats over the years since then.

I used to call Chaz Charlie, like all my family had since he'd been a kid, but when he went off to university, that had to change. He became Chaz and if you called him Charlie he'd either glare at you or ignore you.

The weekend the two of us drove down to Newquay, mainly so that he could have a break from our parents over his long summer break from uni, he was nineteen and I was twenty-two. The official story, to our parents at least, was that we wanted some time together to chat about what Chaz was going to do when he left uni, but really he just desperately needed to get away from them for a couple of days during mid-August before he ended up stabbing one of them. My dad had said, "I'm pleased you guys are getting on so well... this weekend will be great for bringing the two of you together..."

If only he'd known...

The two of us were more like a couple of mates than brothers. Actually, we still are. We don't quarrel much, like most brothers seem to, and we don't get competitive against each other. My relationship with Tom, my older brother, is more traditional - there's the usual mutual sniping and games of one-upmanship - but that between Chaz and I has always been more affectionate and relaxed. Maybe it's because Chaz is the 'baby' of the family, I don't know.

Anyway, the big night happened because, like I said, the two of us ended up getting bladdered. We'd been out most of the afternoon and evening, wandering around the pubs and clubs of Newquay getting progressively more rat-arsed and idiotic together. We must have turned in at about two in the morning, but exact details are kind of difficult.

Chaz had tried, with some initial success, to pull a fit-looking girl in one of the clubs along the seafront. Things had gone rather badly awry when they'd pieced together, in the roundabout way that you do when you're both trying to cop without being too obvious about it, that she couldn't take Chaz back to her place because she lived with her parents, and her coming back with him wasn't exactly ideal because big bro happened to be in the next bed.

He'd apparently tried to rekindle things by telling her I'd be cool with having her stay over, but she'd got all funny about it, saying, "I'm not gonna shag you with your older brother lying next to us... I'm not a complete fuckin' slag..."

So he'd ended up walking home with only me for company at the end of the night, raving drunkenly about her thinking she was all "high and fuckin' mighty" because she wouldn't do something as supposedly commonplace as being screwed while her lover's relatives were in the same room.