Kpop band members find enjoyment in each other on a band trip over night

Goddammit how I hated guns! That sounds strange coming
from a boy in Tennessee. I hated all guns… especially
M-1 rifles. In the sophomore and junior years of high
school, it was required that all male students take
ROTC. This meant an hour class every day, and the
wearing of wool Army uniforms every Monday and Tuesday,
which meant we had to march or do exercise, mostly
push-ups, no matter what the weather.

From December through March, it was so fucking cold,
your hands could drop off carrying an M-1 in ten degree
temperatures, without gloves. Your platoon leader would
make you stand at attention and come by for rifle
inspection, which meant you had to click that bolt back
on the count of “two”, hand him the rifle to check for
dirt, and push the automatic spring bolt closer down
with your frozen blue fingers, hoping against all odds
you could get your thumb out in time, before it slammed
shut and you lost a finger. Fridays were always spent
cleaning the goddamned thing, taking it apart,
reassembling, followed by another inspection.

There was no way in God’s world that you could get out
taking Rotsie for two years, your senior year, if you
weren’t a candidate of to becoming an officer, it was
an elective and you could opt for gym class. I was not
too popular with my ROTC class officers or army
supervised instructors. I never seemed to pass
inspection, which meant, my platoon was deprived of
getting medals and they were forced to do extra
pushups, due to my lack of army discipline. I was
yelled at and screamed at constantly, and loathed by
the guys in “G” platoon.

One day during, third period English, I got stomach
cramps and had to run to the bathroom to escape a
diarrhea accident. I couldn’t stop “going”, and I
stayed sitting on the john, missing half of my fourth
period ROTC class (I was so sorry, ha, ha, ha). I went
to the First Aid Nurse to get a swig of Kaopectate and
a pass to get to class. When I arrived at F.A., the
nurse asked how I was feeling and I said not so good.
She told me to go into the back room and lie down for
the rest of fourth period and she would send a note to
my ROTC instructor.

This was the first in a long series of chronic diarrhea
attacks, that (for some reason) always hit me right
before fourth period… I spent a lot of time lying on
that cot. Needless to say, I got a “D” in the course. I
would have flunked completely had it not been for the
“A”‘s I made on the manual tests on Wednesdays and
Thursdays. I don’t know how I survived nine months of
this figurative and literal shit, but I made it through
sophomore ROTC. Just short of suicide, I would have
done ANYTHING to escape the junior year requirement.

My best friend had found a way to escape, he played
trombone in the marching and concert band. They were
considered the ROTC band, and the only marching they
had to do was the routines for Friday night football
games, and two annual parades. The band NEVER saw a
rifle or NEVER had to do pushups. I had a big problem.
The only instrument I played was the piano and you sure
as hell couldn’t march with one of those strapped under
your chin or to your back.

Then I heard that two of the four band “managers” had
graduated and the band director was looking for
replacements. I had no idea what the duties were, but I
would kill myself trying to fulfill the duties. I found
out that a band manager was a glorified “water boy” or
“gofor”. You carried instruments, making sure that the
one’s belonging to the school, were always, shiny and
clean. You had to keep the band members supplied with
uniforms, music, and equipment.

Hell, I would have taken 64 uniforms home and washed
them by hand, weekly, to get out of junior ROTC… you
see, that was the deal… it you were in the BAND, you
were exempt from ROTC… and that’s how my daily
uniform consisted of white coveralls instead of army
green pants, that scratched your legs so severely when
you sweated and marched, in hot or cold weather, that
you quite often bled from the chaffing you received
daily. So I officially, became a band manager. I was so
happy, you’d have thought I was the band captain… no
more M-1’s!!!

The duties weren’t difficult. The band’s focal point
was on the Tri-State Band Festival, held each year in
Bristol, Tennessee. Our band had been No.1, in the
state for years, so another superior rating was
expected in this competition. It would be a four day
trip. Via Greyhound bus. We would be sleeping in
private homes, furnished by residents in Bristol,
housing two, four, or six, whichever they could
accommodate.

I assumed I would be staying in a home with my best
friend and “jerk-off” buddy, the trombone player. We
had had many sexual encounters, jerking and sucking,
since we were fourteen. These sessions helped me come
to grips with the fact that I was queer and liked guys.
It didn’t work out that way with him. He enjoyed having
sex with me, his best friend, but only because he was
unable to find a girl to have sex with. But now that he
was going steady, he didn’t need me the way I needed
him. He was my one and only and up until Delores came
along, I had been his.

I kept feeling that being surrounded by all these “blow
boys”, there must be one of them that had “queer”
feelings such, as I. I looked at each boy in the band,
daily, for that “look” that “movement” or clue… that
“mating” call.

I thought I had found one, a cute tall junior, slim
build, beautiful blue eyes, encompassed by long black
lashes, named Ernie. He played French horn in the
concert band and “E” trumpet in the marching band. He
was a cross between Richard Long and Sal Mineo.

I, being a blonde, was always attracted to brunettes. I
wasn’t bad looking myself… I was six feet, trim,
rather masculine… no one would have ever guessed what
turned me on in my private masturbatory sessions. I
mean, I was popular, dated girls on the weekend (for
appearance sake), and showed a date a good time. I
always took them to a fancy restaurant, followed by a
movie or school dance. I always settled for a quick
peck of a kiss at the door, NEVER opting to cop-a-feel,
or making her feel uncomfortable. I would usually drive
by my best friend’s house to “get off” after I took my
female date home. No one and I mean ‘no one’ ever
suspected anything unusual about me.

I tested my private waters by jerking off while
thinking about Ernie, to see if he could make me
excited. Now if I could only find some way to get him
to reciprocate the feelings… if I could only find a
way to get him, alone. I wondered if he had a roommate
for the band trip. I would ask. I did. He didn’t… and
guess who signed up to share a room together?

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The band was ready and set to go. We had practiced a
routine that couldn’t be topped by any competition. The
band would conclude its routine with the “1812
Overture” and it was the manager’s job to fire small
cannons on the end of the marching field during the
climax. We were all excited. The one thing we hadn’t
planned on was the weather.

The temperature was to drop to around 10 degrees. This
left a lot to be desired for those guys blowing in the
mouthpiece of a brass instrument. God, it was cold!
When we arrived, we got our rooming assignments. Ernie
and I were to stay at the home of an Episcopal priest
and his family; a wife, a teenage son and daughter. The
son was a freshman in college, also studying for the
priesthood. He was the perfect specimen of all good-
looking six-foot, blue-eyed, flat-top blonde. His name
was Jim. He should have spelled his name “Gym”, because
he was muscles personified.

Ernie and I were to share Jim’s bedroom, giving us, his
double-sized bed. He would sleep in a study on a couch
in the study on the second floor to their manse. It
adjoined the “our” bedroom. The family was terrific to
us; feeding us a prepared family banquet.

Jim asked Ernie and me if we were going to shower
before bedtime, and if so, could he shower first, as he
had to get up early and drive back to college. That
suited us. We sat in the living room talking to the
parents, when Jim entered the room stark naked, on his
way to the bathroom. No one, the father, the mother,
nor the sister, seemed to notice his nakedness.

Ernie and I looked at each other in total amazement, as
we had never seen a family so liberal. It would never
occur to either of us to even let our dads see us nude,
much less the whole family. It was such an “openness”,
we had never encountered. We presumed that the whole
family was use to each other’s privacy. But looking at
Jim, standing their in all his glory, caused a pained
boner in my pants that I knew would never go down all
night, without assistance. His perfect face had the
perfect body to match.

He had only come in the room to remind his mother, to
get him up early. I, cautiously, glanced at Ernie to
see if he was crotch-watching. His eyes were glued on
that religious icon, that I wanted to drop to my knees
and worship. When Jim left, the conversation got
burdensome, as I couldn’t concentrate on what to say…
neither could Ernie.

So after a few pregnant pauses, we said we were a bit
tired from the bus trip and would like to settle in for
the night. We thanked them for the hospitality and the
meal, and trudged up the stairway to the bedroom. We
had just opened our suitcases to pull out our pajamas
when the naked god got out of the shower and came into
our room.

“Anything I can get you guys before you go to bed?” he
asked.

“No, no, we’re fine… how about you, Ernie?”

“Err, no, I’m fine… fine… we’re both just fine.”

“Okay, you dudes have a good band festival, and I’ll
see you Friday night. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Jim left.

“Do you believe that?” I asked Ernie. “I mean could you
ever walk around your house, naked, in front of your
parents and sister?”

“No way! My mom would have me arrested, after she came
to.”

“Have you ever seen a more beautiful body in your
life?”

“I wouldn’t say he was beautiful,” Ernie replied. “Guys
are beautiful, but he certainly is built.”

I thought, Uh oh. I had better drop the subject rather
than drop a few hair pins. I didn’t know anything about
Ernie’s sexuality, but he had just hinted “homophobe”.
This meant that pajamas were in order.

I turned my back to him on one side of the bed and
began taking off my clothes. He did likewise. We donned
our PJ’s and crawled into bed, covering ourselves with
a sheet, a quilt, two comforters, and a bedspread. I
was around 5 degrees outside, and the room had a
psychological chill in it, even though the house was
well heated. We clicked off the light and lay there
quietly.

Then, from the study were heard a steady rhythmical
thumping.

“What’s that?” Ernie asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe Jim is doing some exercises before
going to bed.”

We listened closely to identify the movement by the
sound.

“I think Jim is beating off!” Ernie whispered.

“I think you’re right.”

The image of that Adonis body I had seen jerking off in
the next room made me tent my sheet, a quilt, two
comforters, and a bedspread.

I grabbed my penis, trying to force it down… all the
while, listening for more sound effects from the study.
Maybe two minutes passed and we heard a moan, and a few
gasps… Jim was cumming… all by himself. Jesus, what
a waste of holy fluids.

Then, a minute later, we heard his bare footprints
heading toward the bathroom. When he got to the door,
he reached his hand into the bathroom to turn on the
light before he entered. Our door was cracked, and we
could see the bathroom light spill across his body. He
was clutching his crotch, covered by a handful of
tissues. Ernie and I lay there watching and listening
as Jim peed, flushed, turned out the light and tiptoed
back into the study.

“I wonder if he does that in front of his family, too?”
I asked in a low voice.

“Probably.”

The time was right for some probing.

“Ernie, do you jerk-off?”

“Occasionally, but I don’t make a habit out of it…
How about you?”

“I-I… make a habit out of it.”

“Shit, man, you horny bastard, stay on your side of the
bed,” he joked.

“I can’t. My feet are cold, and I was going to ask you
if I could warm them up next to yours.”

“I bet mine are colder than yours.”

“Let’s see, stick out your right foot and touch my
left.”

He slowly slid it over. Our feet touched. Damn, his
WERE colder than mine.

“OK, dammit, you win. Leave it there and maybe the body
temperatures will warm them up.”

He left it touching mine. I took this as an invitation
to allow the side of my calf and knee make additional
contacts. Innocently, he responded by moving closer to
me, so that the side of his thigh was now touching
mine, through the pajamas. Once again we lay there,
quietly, until he said, “Hey, are you hard?”

“Like a rock.”

“Me too, but don’t get any ideas… OK?”

“OK.”

His right hand brushed my left thigh as he reached down
to grab hold of himself. I was still grasping mine for
dear life. I was making slow movements with my hand,
not big enough to draw his attention. By the slight
fanning of the covers, I sensed he was doing the same.
I was about to burst inside with confined excitement
until I flung the covers down to my knees and said,
“Hell, Ernie, if we don’t beat off, neither one of us
is going to get to sleep.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He raised his
hips to pull his pajama bottoms down to his ankles. I
did the same. We both grabbed out cocks and started
jerking them forcefully. The main difference was that
our “bare” legs were now touching from foot to hip. His
right-hand stroking was causing his elbow to bump into
my side. This let me monitor the speed of his stroking.
I had no place to put my left arm and hand. During the
movement, my hand was resting on the left side of his
pelvis.

Once again, I got the courage to pry, “What are you
thinking about?”

“Cumming. What are you thinking about?” he asked.

I waited about ten strokes before I blatantly said, “I
was thinking about Jim’s naked body.”

“Hey, hey, do guys turn you on?”

“This is a helluva time to say it, but, yes, at times.”

He stopped his hand thrusts to pursue the topic.

“All guys? Some guys? Or just one guy in particular,
say, like, “Jim”.

“Most guys, I guess Ernie.”

“Are you queer?”

“Sometimes.” (Well with my best friend any way). I
thought about him and suddenly wished he were here so
that I could “get off” properly.

“Do I turn you on? Or just Jim?”

“I’m not in the bed with Jim, right now, so I guess you
can say that you turn me on. But don’t worry, I won’t
do anything, that is… anything that you don’t want me
to.”

“Have you ever had sex with a guy?”

“Several times… well, with one guy, several times.”

“Do I know him?”

“Yes, he’s in the band.”

“Who is he?”

“Oh no, I don’t kiss and tell. Have you ever done
anything with a guy?”

“No, never.”

There was a pregnant silence. I didn’t know whether to
start masturbating again, or wait for him to continue
his query.

He continued, “Suppose we were to do something, would
you tell?”

“I told you… I don’t tell anything.”

“Would you like to touch me? I mean just touch?”

“Only if you want me to.”

He waited about ten seconds and grabbed my hand and
placed it on his swollen phallus. As soon as I touched
him, his penis throbbed.

“Jerk it, just a little.”

I grasped it and started a slow movement.

“Oh, man, that feels good.”

My hand grew tighter and I started a steady beat. On
the up slides, I could feel his pre-cum covering his
glans. I took the side of my forefinger to catch some
of the fluid and began using it to wet his entire
shaft. He sighed and moaned, and I reached with my
other hand to cup his balls. As soon as I did, they
began to contract as his ball sac tightened. Without
saying a word…he edged his hand over toward my crotch
and let his hand envelop me. His hand was cold, but I
knew that my cock heat would soon warm it. He started
pumping me, matching me stroke for stroke.

“Oh God, this feels wonderful…” he whispered.

“Are you about ready to shoot?” I asked.

“I’m almost there.”

“Don’t cum, just yet. Let’s play a little bit first.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Trust me.”

“OK.”

I finished removing my pajama bottoms and straddled his
thighs so that our balls and cocks were nestled
together. I reached down and grabbed both our dicks and
began to masturbate them together.

“Oh, God, this is TOO much.”

“Now let me know when you get close… so that we don’t
get any semen on the sheets.”

“I’m ready now… do you have some Kleenex or a
handkerchief?”

“No, but I have something better.”

“Well, you better get it because, here it comes.” His
hips began to jerk.

With that, I quickly lowered my head and engulfed his
entire cock in my mouth. He came in jetting spurts. I
caught the first one and swallowed it… then
another… and another… seven, in all. His legs and
toes flexed as his back stiffened and the back of his
head pushed down into his pillow.

I continued feeding on him until I felt his body begin
to relax. My mouth was still filled with his cum, mixed
with my saliva. I kept thinking, I’ve gone this far. I
touched him, jerked him, gone down on him, swallowed
his most intimate treasure, I might as well go a little
farther and risk the whole deal.

I had nothing to lose, so I raised my head toward his
and searched for his lips. I kissed him, tight-lipped,
at first, and then I let just the tip of my tongue try
to gain entrance into his mouth.

I don’t know if he was responding or trying to get his
breath, but he opened his mouth and received a gush of
cum, saliva, and hard tongue, all at the same time. He
began to swallow the spunk and twirled his tongue over
mine. I lowered my body, covering his, while giving him
the most passionate kiss I have ever given anyone…
male or female.

He was so into this, that he wrapped both his arms
around my back and pulled me into him. Our bodies,
meshed together, began to roll onto our sides then back
to his back, to the sides, once again, and then, as if,
in a wrestling match, he rolled me onto my back,
putting himself on top me, without ever stopping the
long, long, kiss. The room was still dark, so I never
once could see the expression on his face. Finally, he
unlocked our lips.

“I don’t believe what just happened.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, man, I’ve never felt anything like that in my
life.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Only if you tell.”

“I told you… that’s one thing I won’t do.”

“Swear to God?”

“I swear.”

He still didn’t offer to move. He was still lying on
top of me. He lowered his head to kiss me, once more.
Either I had created a monster or I had unleashed a
demon inside him that had been trying to get out for a
long time.

“You didn’t cum, did you?”

“No.”

“Want me to help?”

“Only if you want.”

“What do you want me to do? I mean, how do you want to
cum?”

“It’s your ball game. I’ll lie here and you can do
anything to me that you want, outside of beating the
shit out of me?”

He laughed. “Just lie back, and let me try a few
things…this is all very new to me.”

“My body is yours, doctor.”

He kissed me again, briefly, and let his tongue start a
saliva trail across my cheek, down my neck to my
sternum. He moved his mouth over to my right nipple and
flicked it with his tongue, then back to the quest. He
went to my left nipple to even the sensation, then a
slow crawl to my navel as he pushed his tongue in and
out. I heard him breathe heavily, trying to dander up
the courage to continue his downward journey. He did a
few quick licks down the path of my pubic hairs leading
to the blonde patch. He nuzzled his nose, at the same
time flutter kissing the top of my shaft at the base.

I locked his lips on the base and slid down toward the
tip. He didn’t take the tip in his mouth, instead, he
continued his movement to slide down the underneath of
my cock where he began kissing my balls. He steadied
the sac with his hand while he took each one in his
mouth separately, and then the entire scrotum. I was so
hard, you could have run a flag up my pole. If he
didn’t suck me soon, I was going to be the only junior
in high school with an enlarged prostate. I soon got my
wish, as he took a plunge and took all of me into his
mouth, down his throat, and gagged, gasping for air.

“Just take a deep breath.” I assured him.

He began bobbing his head up and down with long, tight,
wet, suction. I, suddenly, thought, that if I came in
his mouth, with as much excitement as I had built up
over the past four hours, he would probably choke to
death. I decided to warn him that I was on the brink. I
pushed his head back, but, NOTHING DOING. He had worked
hard for his reward and he wanted it… so I gave it to
him.

It must have been an all time record for me, as I had
never ejaculated as much and as long as this before. He
sputtered, gagged, swallowed, breathed, and dived for
more until I was drained. My well was dry. He copied my
action, like a mother bird. He ascended back to my face
and began to tongue feed me, my own jism. Ernie had
really gotten into this, and I was enjoying every
minute of it. His kisses were so hot and heavy now,
that there was no way I could have heard the footsteps
coming toward the bed.

“Hey!” a voice called.

Ernie and I froze, completely.

“I couldn’t help but hear, what was going on in here? I
just wanted to see if you guys were all right?”

It was Jim, the blonde god.

I waited for a few seconds to get some sort of signal
from Ernie on what to do next. Finally I took the
initiative.

“No Jim, we’re not all right… we were just cold and
were trying to create some body heat.”

“I threw back all the covers and said, “Would you like
to join us?”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to,” he said as he joined us in
bed, all three naked now, facing a cold winter’s night.

Jim leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, as Ernie
lowered his head and joined us in a three-way oral
linkage.