Actors : by (c)   Lady Joyce Hamilton    Mm

I know everyone remembers his first time.

I was a strange boy, introspective and secretive. And yet I was a good-looking 
lad. I have that photograph on the screen in front of me now, on the beach in 
my white underpants. It shows a lad not tall, but quite well built. Not yet at all 
muscular, I was after all only thirteen that summer, but certainly neither 
skinny nor plump. It was a period when men wore their hair long, in imitation 
of the pop stars of the time, and mine was nearly down to my shoulders, dark 
black and rather wind-blown. That hair, my deep dark eyes, my full lips and 
customary sulky expression made me look not only handsome but sexy. I 
stood facing the camera, my head turned slightly to profile, my eyes looking 
out to the sea beyond.

I was tanned and the white of my underpants made a contrast with my 
bronzed skin. 

I had no real friends, either male or female. My classmates, all boys as I went 
to a single sex school, were beginning to talk about their real or imagined 
experiences with girls. That seemed to be a hopelessly remote possibility for 
me. For a couple of years I had been clipping corset advertisements out of the 
womens magazines my mother discarded, and using them for masturbating. 
So I certainly have a heterosexual streak somewhere in me. Sometimes my 
fantasies at night in bed would involve men from a body-building magazine I 
had found, so I had a homosexual side too. Occasionally my imagination 
would dress one of those men in the corsets, and that was probably my 
favourite even then. 

A solitary boy, my passion was bird-watching, an excuse for countless hours 
by myself. That important morning I got on my bicycle and rode over to 
Juggs Strand, where a two-mile long shelf of pebbles separated the sea from a 
lagoon. It was a great place for watching birds.

There was even then a wooden hide, and I was disappointed to find it already 
occupied. But I entered in any case. 

'Morning. Nothing very exciting today. Pair of pochards diving over there 
towards the old jetty.'

I took out my bins and could see them. I looked at the guy with his telescope. 
He was not much taller than me, but quite old. At least twenty-five, I thought, 
an old guy(!) It was strange, he had ragged old denim shorts and t-shirt, but 
his hands were immaculate, manicured. I could not help noticing how fine 
and long his fingers were, how shaped and clean his nails.  His hair was long 
even by the standards of that time, and tied in a blonde pony-tail down to his 
shoulders. The same blonde hair, short and curly, made his strong legs look 
very sexy to me, almost like some of my secret photos. My favourite pictures 
were of men with no hair on their chests, but golden, furry hair on their thighs 
and calves. 

We watched the birds in silence for at least half an hour.

'Half term holiday?'

'Yes. Till next Monday. You on holiday?'

'I'm an actor, at The Arts Theatre, so I get most of the day off unless we've 
got a matinee or are rehearsing.'

'You're doing Hamlet at the moment.'

'Yes. I play the ghost and a couple of other parts too.'

'I like to act, at school. We're rehearsing Twelfth Night.'

'Who are you playing?'

I blushed. 'Viola. They always make me play the girls.'

'Big part. Have you learned it?'

'Oh yes. I learn lines very quickly. I know them inside out already and it's 
still two months away.'

'I do too. You have to! Care for a look through my telescope. There's a 
couple of grebes performing well.'

As I looked through the eyepiece he held my hand, the first time he touched 
me. I felt a frisson, which surprised me. 'If you need to fine-tune it, it's 
there.' He held my hand over the small wheel, and for a second or two longer 
than he really needed to.

'It's much clearer. I must get one of these.'

'I'm going to have lunch now.  Care to share it? I've got far too many cheese 
sandwiches, and my flask has got two cups.'

I was beginning to feel hungry and thirsty and had brought nothing myself. 
And I found I was attracted to this well-spoken and obviously well-educated 
man. He was handsome too! 'May I? Just a bite, please.'

'I like to go down to the beach, have a break. It's a bit gloomy in here.'

He folded up his telescope and picked up a scruffy green canvas bag, and I 
followed him the short stroll up the bank of the mere, over the scrub at the 
top, and down to the shingle beach. We chose a place where the pebbles were 
not too big to be uncomfortable, or so small they would get into everything, 
and sat down.

You could see a mile in each direction, and this Tuesday it was completely 
deserted.

'My name's Ralph.'

'I'm Cecil.' 

We shook hands. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. His chest 
was bare of all hair, but nicely muscular. Then he slipped his sandals off and 
undid the button on his shorts. They fell to his ankles and he kicked them 
aside. I knew his legs were good, but so was his butt. He was wearing garish 
union-jack underpants, made from some silky fabric, so they were very tight 
indeed. I could see he had a hard, muscular little arse, and there was a nice-
looking bulge at the front.

'Come on. Get some sun on you.'

I took off my shirt and shorts, and lay on the shingle in my y-fronts.

I had two of his sandwiches and a cup of tea. We chatted about acting, and 
bird-watching. 

I've a camera here. Would you take a couple of me, please Cecil. And then 
I'll take some of you. They were polaroids, and he gave two to me, one of 
each of us and kept two himself.  Later I transferred them to digital, and 
looking at the pic of Ralph on the screen in front of me as I write this brings it 
all back.

We were laying on the beach, on our sides, facing each other. I could not 
keep my eyes off that bulge, so clear under the silky fabric. As I watched I 
could see it swelling, until the hard outline of the straight shaft and rounded 
knob could be seen, bent down under him, trapped by the tight trunks. I 
thought it must be painful to have it confined like that. I could feel my own 
cock getting hard, and absent-mindedly stuck my hand in my pants to lift it so 
it was straight up against my belly.

'If I did that it would stick out the top.' But he did it all the same, and the 
pink knob of his cock peeped out of the top of his slip. I looked at it, 
entranced. I had never seen anything so exciting, so beautiful, so mysterious.
My own cock was throbbing and twitching. I gazed at it entranced.

He laughed. 'You can feel it if you want. It won't mind!'

I reached out, and as my hand touched his pants he placed his on top of it, 
pressing down so I was encouraged to grasp him.  I rubbed it gently. Now my 
hand was grasping it firmly he removed his and I felt it resting on my thigh, 
nearly on my hip. 

'I can't believe I'm doing this.'

'Kiss it, Cecil, kiss it for me.'

The knob was poking out of the top of his pants. I could see the shape of his 
shaft and balls so clearly. There was a little drop of liquid in the eye of his 
knob, and when I pursed my lips to kiss him there it stuck to my lip. I felt the 
shape of his balls with the palm of my hand.

'Pull my pants down and you can see the whole of it. I know you want to.'

This was too marvellous to be true. I pulled his skimpy pants down over his 
thighs and his cock scarcely moved. It was so powerfully erect it stood nearly 
vertical, parallel with his flat belly. He might have had no chest hair but 
round his cock was a mass of golden hair, a deeper reddish-gold than his 
pony-tail. As I looked in awe at his cock, which must have been twice as long 
as my own boyish four inches, and more than twice as broad, it twitched and 
another, larger drop of clear liquid appeared in its eye. This was wonderful 
and mysterious to me as, although for nearly a year I had been producing cum 
when I jerked off I did not yet make any precum. I thought it looked like a 
teardrop, and bent over him to kiss it: only this time, on an impulse, I took the 
whole of his knob between my lips.  

He groaned in pleasure. But almost as soon as I had tasted cock for the first 
time, he had pulled from my mouth, and was feeling inside my y-fronts. I felt 
his hand on my cock, and then he was pulling them down. His own pants 
landed on the shingle next to mine and we were naked. He leaned over me, 
and the whole of my cock was in his mouth. I could feel his chin and lips 
touching my pubic hair, and I knew he had managed to get my whole cock 
inside. The feeling was delicious and I thought I would come.

I held his head between my two hands, feeling his fine blonde hair round and 
between my fingers.

But he took his mouth away, and reached for his battered canvas bag. I 
watched as he squeezed from a tube, and put the jelly into the crease of his 
arse.

'Put some of this on your cock, Cecil.'

'You want me to stick it in you? In your bottom?'

I was doing as he instructed, and my cock glistened as I spread grease over it. 
I ran my hand up and down the shaft, but stopped because I was afraid of 
coming.

'I want that more than anything.' He knelt on the shingle, his head on his 
hands, his arse in the air. I knelt behind him: he had the same golden hair 
round his arsehole, but finer. It glistened where he had put the lubricant. 
Entering him was easy. Luckily I found the correct angle immediately, and 
with a shove, my knob was inside.

'Gentle, boy! Firm, but gentle.' 

I find it difficult to describe how good that first moment felt, as my thighs 
rested against his bottom and my cock was deep inside him. His arse gripped 
it, relaxed, and gripped again. I felt as if it was enfolded in warmth. I stroked 
his bottom and the small of his back: he was lean and muscular there. 

'That's good. Oh yes! That's good! Now fuck me, as hard as you want.'

I pulled out as far as my knob and pushed in again. I could feel him pushing 
back towards me as I did. Now I was fucking him properly, my slender thighs 
crashing against his more muscular butt. His head rested on his hands. I felt 
under him and found his cock was still hard. Now I was worried I would 
come too soon, but he must have felt my teenage urgency.

'Now, boy, now. Fill me, Cecil. Come in me. Aaaaaaaah! Yes. Come.'

There was a lot more like this, and my pleasure was increased by the pride I 
felt in the pleasure I was giving him. My orgasm built and built until finally it 
exploded. I thrust and thrust as my balls emptied into him. In all my nightly 
wanking I had never felt anything as powerful as this. I guessed I was in fact 
filling him, and that for the first time I was pumping quantities of spunk into 
him.

When I had come I rolled away and lay on my side again. As he rolled onto 
his side too I saw pools of white cum on the shingle where he had been 
kneeling. My pride was increased immeasurably as I realised I had made him 
come, 'no hands', just with my cock. A dribble of my cum leaked from his 
arse, still slightly open where I had left it.

'I want a swim!'

He was up and walking over the shingle towards the sea. I thought how 
handsome he looked with his tanned skin and the masculine triangular shape 
of his shoulders and bottom. He must have sunbathed naked a lot, as his arse 
was nearly the same bronze as his legs. As he waded slowly, painfully into 
the cold, June water, I dashed in with a great splashing as I always do.

He was a poor swimmer, having only a laboured breast-stroke, so I 
showboated with my powerful crawl. Then we floated on our backs side by 
side. It was the first time I had swum naked, and I looked at my cock, limp 
now, bobbing, and then at his, laying on the water. 

He made a grab for me, and we were wrestling in the water. This was really 
just and excuse for a bit of fun, and I felt his hands all over my body, and 
certainly used the opportunity to fondle every part of his. Finally we stood up 
to our waists in the waves, and kissed in a long embrace. 

As we walked up the beach together I looked at his cock. It was transformed. 
Coming, and the icy water, had shrunk it from the massive emblem of 
masculinity to a tiny, wrinkled walnut. His huge balls were now tight in their 
crinkly skin, and looked smaller. I was worse. My cock had nearly 
disappeared, and my balls were tight..

We lay in the sun drying, and talking about acting mainly.

'You're not keen on acting girls' parts?'

'Oh, I like it really. And I do get some other parts too.'

'You don't mind dressing up as a girl, then?'

'Oh no. In fact that's the nice bit.' I paused. Should I tell him? I decided to. 
'I've got a collection of pictures of girls in lingerie, corsets mostly. And I 
sometimes imagine it's me in the pretty undies. I haven't got a corset, but I've 
got a pair of panties I wear sometimes. And I find I act a girl better if I've got 
girly things on underneath. Though I don't tell the producer that! He's the 
English teacher.'

 ' And why not, Cecil? You never know he might find it interesting that 
you've sexy lingerie on. Do a bit of  "The Merchant" for me .'

I did him the bit where Viola tells Olivia that she can never love her. You 
know it "By innocence, I swear, and by my youth"

'Hey! You're good, Cecil. And what a wonderful idea Shakespeare had. A 
girl pretending to be a boy, a woman falling in love with her, and a man 
concerned about his feelings for what seems to be a boy.'

'It's a good plot, isn't it?'

'I think Shakespeare was bisexual, like me. It certainly amused him to mix his 
genders up. Audiences love it too, which says something about people if you 
think about it.'

'I think I'm gay, Ralph. Girls don't do much for me. And I've never known 
anything as good as when you let me come in you, Ralph. This is a special 
day for me. I wondered before. Now I know.'

'You're a very handsome and talented boy.' He took me in his arms and we 
were kissing again. This time I took the opportunity to really get to know his 
body. I felt the muscles in his shoulders, kneaded his buttocks, ran my fingers 
over the fine curly hair on his legs. I could feel his cock harden pressed 
against mine. I kissed a nipple, and found it harden between my lips. His skin 
was salty from the sea.

'You like that?'

'I love it. Here, I'll lick yours.' I had no idea my nipples could be so 
sensitive. As he sucked and nibbled, I felt my cock getting harder and harder.

' Do you shave your chest?'

'I have it waxed. A young actor doesn't want a hairy chest. Destroys the 
image on stage. And I prefer it.'

'So do I.'

'You're lovely, Cecil. Just enough hair for me, just a little bit round here.' He 
ran his fingers over my pubic hair. 'And nowhere else at all. Kiss me again.'

When our tongues and lips had had enough of exploring each other, He again 
took my cock in his mouth. This time I was positioned beside him so I could 
take his cock in my mouth too. That is one of the most wonderful feelings, to 
have your lover's half-hard cock in your mouth and feel it straighten and 
stiffen as you suck at it. I almost forgot he was sucking at mine in the 
excitement of feeling that smooth, warm, soft as silk but hard as steel prick 
between my lips.

He pulled me over so I was on top of him, and I bobbed my head up and 
down. I could feel his lips and tongue at work on me, and his hands one on 
each of my buttocks, stroking and squeezing me, his fingers often slipping 
into my arse-crease and teasing my anus with tapping and pressing there.

This time it was he who came first, filling my mouth with his silky, slippery 
cum. I remember being surprised it had little taste, but pleased and excited by 
the feel of it, and the suddenness of the gushing in my mouth. I swallowed, 
and the feeling of him coming in me drove me over the edge and I came in his 
mouth too.

                              .

I pushed my bicycle as we walked back to the car-park. 

'Cecil, do you think you could come into the theatre tomorrow. I'd like the 
Director Martin Daventry to hear your Viola.'

His car was an old Ford. I stood there and waved as he drove away dust 
rising.

                                   

I was punctual, at ten, and Ralph listened while Martin Daventry, then not yet 
the star he was to become but still as charming, affable and above all 
handsome as you know him to be, as that great man of the theatre talked to 
me about my school, parts I had played, and my family.

I was not at all nervous: I knew I was good! I chose to do a scene between 
Viola and the Duke, with Ralph reading the Duke's lines. Martin Daventry sat 
in the middle of the front row.

In the scene, Viola dressed as a boy, realises she is in love with the Duke, and 
he is greatly disturbed by his growing feelings for this 'boy'. This is the 
dramatic reality underlying the otherwise innocent lines we were speaking. I 
gave my voice and my body movements all the femininity and flirtatiousness 
I knew, and I could feel the sexual tension between myself and him. It helped, 
of course, that we were already in fact lovers, and I knew he was going to 
have me again just as soon as the audition was completed. 

I was, however, surprised when Martin Daventry applauded us at the end. We 
stepped down from the stage and he stood up to meet us.

'That was good, Cecil. Really good. Mature acting way beyond your age.'
Subject to his talking it over with my parents it was agreed that I would take 
on juvenile parts, boys and girls, in productions, and would begin by reading 
the part in The Glass Menagerie for a production in September. It's a girl, of 
course, but rather a plain one, and ideal for me.

As I hoped, Ralph took me to his dressing room after Martin left us. And it 
was there I lost my virginity, as they say.

'Well, that went splendidly didn't it? How shall we celebrate.'

My answer was to put my arms round his neck and kiss him. 'I'm so happy, 
Ralph. I can't believe this is happening to me. I mean you : and then real 
acting. It's all so wonderful.'

I was wearing shorts, and I felt his hand slip up my thigh, inside the shorts 
and rest on my buttock as we kissed. I had an arm round his neck, and one on 
his arse too.  We stood for a moment. He was feeling me through the black 
satin panties I wore for the audition to help me feel feminine.

'Undress. Let's undress.'

'No keep them on. They're pretty, and won't get in the way at all. 
Mmmmmm'

I was quicker than him, eager for some more of yesterday's delights, but soon 
we were both ready. There was an old nearly broken-backed sofa in the 
corner. He sat on the faded green velvet and I joined him. Now, as we kissed I 
could hold his cock, just as he grasped mine, slipping it out of the leg of my 
knickers. We were both hard. I leaned over and sucked at his knob, and then 
slid the full length into my mouth. I wanted to taste his cum again.

But that was not his idea.

'Kneel down here, Cecil. I want to play with your arse.'

I knelt in front of the sofa, my arms on it, and felt him pull my panties down 
over my thighs. Then his hands parted my cheeks. Then the stubble of his 
chin as he nuzzled his cheek against my thighs and buttocks, and then a kiss 
right on my secret spot. It was a warm, wet, lingering kiss, and culminated in 
his tongue licking round my anus. It was a delightful feeling and I'm sure I 
wiggled my hips in pleasure. Then I felt the tip of his tongue enter me, his 
hands pulling my bottom wide apart. It tickled and I giggled. But it was 
lovely, and I was glad Ralph continued, his tongue probing into me and 
licking round the rim of my anus. He felt under me and stroked my hard little 
cock, gently.

This worship went on, till he got up and went over to the dressing table. I 
watched his cock waving in front of him, and thought how handsome he was, 
how lucky I had gone bird-watching yesterday, and how much I wanted that 
cock.

He had a tube in his hand, that I recognised from yesterday. I had a 
momentary fear as I knew what was going to happen. I had known in my 
heart of hearts that he would fuck me in the arse today, and had even, 
somewhere deep inside my mind, wanted him to. I wanted to be his 
completely, as he had given himself to me. I would be his woman and his boy 
at the same time. And yet I was, of course, afraid. 

He knelt behind me again, and his soft fingers were spreading lubricant into 
my crease. Then I felt his finger enter me. That was not too bad. In fact, I 
decided it was good as he slowly and gently masturbated my arsehole, sliding 
his finger in and out and reaching round and round in a circular motion. I felt 
him add some more lubricant, and the finger slid even easier. This was nice! 
Then I realised it had become tighter, and knew he had two fingers in me. 
This was good, too.

I knelt there in a sort of daze. I forgot even to wank, though my cock was 
hard and demanding attention. Then it was tighter still, and I felt really 
stretched, but still it did not hurt. Better still he seemed to have awoken 
something deep inside me, some centre of pleasure that was communicating 
itself to my cock. I realised it was exactly where you feel, deep inside, just 
before you come. 

'Ralph. If you keep on like that I'll come.'

'Then you're ready, Cecil.'

His fingers left my arse. I imagined it gaping wide for him as his had after I 
pulled out of him. I heard him greasing his cock, and then felt his knob 
pressing against my anus. He seemed to be holding it in one hand, his left 
hand holding my buttock. I felt him push and gave a squeak. It had hurt a bit 
as the knob entered. He paused, and then pushed into me with a long, slow 
thrust. Now that did hurt, and I protested.

'No, please Ralph. That hurts. Please. No.'

'Won't last, and the it'll be good.'

He rested there, fully in me, his thighs against my buttocks, hands on my 
waist holding me firm. I had my face crushed into the green velvet and can 
still smell the musty scent of it in my memory. The pain passed and he slowly 
pulled it out. That was nicer, in fact a good feeling. Now long and slow into 
me again, and I knew I would like it.

'That's nice Ralph.'

He laughed, and the speed and power of his thrusts gradually increased until 
he was fucking me hard. I felt his hand kneading my buttocks, enjoying the 
smoothness there. His balls swung and clipped me underneath, and above all 
that cock filled me and reamed me. It could not last in the excitement of this 
first time. I knew he was coming by the sudden short, sharp thrusts and above 
all his groans and panting. (We never dared really express our passion in that 
dressing room. Too many ears!).  

I came, my cock untouched, spurting into the green velvet.
                            

I like you in those panties, Cecil. Shall we go into town and get you some 
nice teenage girly clothes, and you can try them on at my place. I'd like to see 
you dressed like that. O let's do it.'

                              

All that long summer we made love every day. We sucked and fucked in the 
fields, on the beach, in the theatre, at his apartmenr in my parents' house, and 
in dangerous places like the top of a bus between stops, in and empty church, 
in the toilets of the Mall, in the changing room of a clothing shop. 
Everywhere and often. And we often went out with me dressed as Cecily.

Ralph was my first love, but I have never been faithful for long, all my life. 
Martin Davenport, of course, seduced me, delighted by my female persona 
and male cock;  he was  only the second in a long line of lovers.

                                   ..



 

