I never expected my first sexual escapade to take place on a windswept bluff overlooking a remote Pacific beach.

Nor did I expect it to be with a guy.

You could hardly imagine a more spectacular setting for your first time. Washington's Olympic National Park is perhaps best known for the Olympic mountain range - the jagged gray peaks of its eastern wall that form the sunset skyline of Seattle, the glistening icecap of Mount Olympus, the rainforests that envelop everything on its western slopes in a thick coating of vibrant green moss, and the many sparkling-clear lakes and rivers. But Pete and I aren't in the mountains. Rather, we are exploring one of Olympic's long and equally spectacular stretches of remote Wilderness coastline, reachable only on foot.

And only with difficulty. Walking these beaches is, in fact, the furthest thing from what most people think of as a walk on the beach. Sure, there are sandy stretches, but also many rocky beaches, and stretches that are not really beaches at all, but unforgiving jumbles of slippery moss-covered boulders. The hardest part, though, is that at frequent intervals, you must either wade through tidepools around the feet of headlands (if the tide is low enough), or use fixed ropes that have been placed to help you clamber up and down treacherous cliffs. Or, sometimes when the tide is in, you have to simply wait a few hours. The Park Service warns hikers they'll be lucky to average one mile per hour traversing this coastline. If they're strong.

At least the weather has been good, and that's why we're here now. Usually, early April brings wet downpours to the Twilight coast, but today we've got unseasonable warmth and sunshine. It certainly makes the exhaustion more tolerable. Even better, the timing of the tides is ideal this week: out for much of the day, with the low peak coming just past noon.

Having long yearned to put together a backpacking trip here, my friend Pete saw the sunny forecast for the week of Spring Break and started calling friends to find someone who might be willing to join him. It's a hell of a commitment, though, and I turned out to be the only taker.

Now we are on our second day out, having left our tent behind so we could travel light today, get a few miles up the coast and come back to the same spot tonight. The sense of solitude is unlike anything I've ever felt, having seen absolutely no one else on this Tuesday other than the thousands of birds swirling around the sea stacks offshore, the many brightly colored starfish in the tidepools, and the occasional octopus crawling amongst the rocks. There are also bears in the woods just above, and sea lions in the water just below, though we don't see any of either.

Traversing this Wilderness where the sheer beauty is almost overpowering, where merely making forward progress is an ordeal, where the chance of injury is real, and where help is hours - if not days - away, has created a strong connection between me and Pete. Over the course of the day, we have talked about our hopes and dreams and ideas about the world in ways that usually only happen late at night, and after smoking a few joints.

It is only on the home stretch back towards our camp, the tide higher than this morning and forcing us to climb over the final headland, that the conversation turns to relationships. I have zero experience here, but Pete has recently broken up with his girlfriend and seems willing to talk about it.

"We had a lot of good times together, but we both knew it wasn't going to last beyond Graduation anyway. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but ... oh, what the hell, we've talked about everything else. Cathy and I had some ... uh, incompatibilities. Sexually."

"Like what?" I ask, looking back down at Pete just below me as I scale the bluff.

"Well, we made out all the time, which was great, but we never got very far fooling around. Ultimately, I think she's just not ready to do anything sexual. I'm not saying I want to go all the way with a girl yet, but I think I am ready to have some kind of sex. With a person who wants to have sex with me. Does that make sense?"

"Perfectly. If you'd stayed together, you might have ended up putting more pressure on her, plus you wouldn't be available if someone who is ready comes along."

I have to admit I'm suddenly intrigued, given that he said "a person" and not "a girl." Especially in light of what happened last December: We were at a big Christmas party at someone's house, where anytime two people happened to pass underneath a strategically hung sprig of mistletoe, crowds would cheer them on, yelling "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Often the two people in question wouldn't kiss, but sometimes they would, especially if it was a boy and a girl. One time, two girls gave everyone a real show and open-mouth kissed for several seconds, prompting a genuine roar of approval.

Unsurprisingly, when it was two guys under the mistletoe, they usually refused to indulge the mob. But Pete played along when it happened to us, planting a big smack on my lips. This prompted huge cheers, a couple of girls even yelling "Tongue! Tongue!"

Tongue did not happen, but I've often wondered what that would have been like. Maybe not in front of the crowd, but what if we'd found a quiet spot and kissed more intensely? What else might we have done? In fact, those imaginings have brought me to orgasm a few times.

Now I'm hard as a rock myself as I surmount the top rock, asking, "So, if you don't mind my asking, what do you picture as 'some kind of sex?'"

"If you must know, what I really want is more than just messing around, but giving each other actual orgasms. I would love to know what it's like to make someone cum, knowing that I did that. And for that person to do the same for me. Could just be with our hands" - something he just happens to say at the moment I grab his hand to pull him up on top next to me - "but lips and mouths would be nicer. I would absolutely love to try oral sex. Giving and receiving."

From the small flat spot atop the headland, we survey the stretch of beach below: a full mile of beautiful sand, empty except for our tent far below. Enraptured both by the scenery and by the ideas Pete is sharing, I suggest, "Speaking of lips ..."

His hand still in mine, Pete pulls himself up against me, whispering hot into my right ear, "... Ours have met before." I turn my head so they meet again, this time parting so our tongues can meet, just as the crowd had been encouraging.

As we continue making out and our hands find their way to each other's shorts, I ask, "You said you wanted to have sex with someone who wants to have sex with you, right Pete?"

"I didn't say it had to be with a girl," he giggles. "Did I?"

"No. Nice loophole. And while it would be nice to find out what it’s like to make a girl cum, both of us can make a man cum right now." I lick his ear and breathe, "And believe me, I want to try oral sex as much as you do. Giving and receiving."

We mash our mouths for several more minutes as we peel off our sweaty shirts, drop our shorts and bring our bodies together. We hold and stroke each other's warm, tender penises, marveling at both the feel of another's in our hand, and the feel of our own in another's hand. His is smaller than mine, but I am aware that his size absolutely does not fucking matter. I am transfixed by the velvety feel of the outer skin, the squishy cap, the hardness of the shaft within.

"Oh my God, your cock feels so great in my hand," I gasp to express these thoughts, my finger finding the drop of precum oozing out, then smearing it around the crown and rim of Pete's glans. Well, that does it for him. He suddenly tenses up, starting to squirt cum all over my hand.

"Oh shit, Joe, I'm so sorry! I didn't know I'd cum so fast!"

My knees hit the uneven ground before he even finishes his apology, as I envelop his entire five-incher in my mouth to catch his last few spurts. It tastes so fucking wonderful, I hardly have words for it. I would like to have been able to take my time examining him close up and savoring my first-ever cock-slurp, but I'll get my chance.

Pete throws back his head. "Oh my God," he exclaims, loudly enough for people down on the beach to hear, if there were any. "That feels so fucking good I could pass out and fall off this cliff!"

"Well, don't, because I want you alive down on that beach, so I can make you cum again from a true and proper blowjob." I continue licking and sucking his still-twitching prick, rubbing my hands on his buttocks and his back while he continues to gently rock his hips.

Finally, he suggests, "Maybe we should have taken that kiss further. I almost feel like I wasted all that time with Cathy."

"I've thought back on that too," I counter, standing and looking into his eyes, "but I don't think you should see that time as wasted. You had a great time with her, and I'm glad for you. I'm also glad that right now, you're with me and not her."

"I guess you're right, but you've already made me cum more times than she ever did. This is exactly what I'm ready for," he shares, getting on his knees and learning to suck. Oh my God. Nothing I've done to myself - and I've played with myself a lot - can remotely compare to the pleasure of my cock disappearing inside a warm, wet mouth. It is incredible. Now that I've experienced it, I don't know how I'll ever go back to not experiencing it. I sure hope Pete will be open to more get-togethers after we return from this trip.

I don't last a whole lot longer than Pete did, partly because the very prospect of regular sex with him gets my essence welling up from within me, and then delivering it. He does a great job of clamping his lips around my manhood and taking all of my produce. Cumming in my friend's mouth while overlooking miles of beautiful beach almost gives me vertigo. I'm still panting as he stands up, his hand stroking my slick sensitized member, and starts kissing me again, delivering back some of my own flavor. Yes, I will need more of this. Again and again. But maybe not on top of this windy cliff.

"Wow, Joe, that was so amazing, feeling your body tense up, your pecker start twitching, your balls pump out your delicious cum into my mouth." Proudly, he adds, "But the most incredible part was knowing that I fucking did that to you."

We suck each other's tongues for a couple more minutes, then shoulder our packs and scramble down the other side of the headland, still naked. I tease, "So, were you already thinking about having sex with me when you kissed me at that party? Was that part of some long-term plan of yours?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'd never thought of you sexually before that. It really was just an impulse."

"A damned good one."

"But your lips made quite an impression, Joe. Since then, I have thought about you sexually a lot."

"I have thought about you sexually a lot too. So let me ask you this. When you were making out with Cathy and trying to squeeze her tits," I challenge, "were you actually thinking about making out with me and squeezing my cock?"

"Sometimes," he admits as he makes his final step back down onto the flat sand, looking up at me, licking his lips. "Except more sucking than squeezing."

Rather than hop down to the sand from the lowest rock, I sit on it, my erection close to Pete's head level. "More sucking is just what we both need." Grinning, I provoke, "What would happen when you got home, frustrated and blue-balled from a date with her? Did you always jerk off thinking about her? Or sometimes me?"

"Well, sometimes I'd cum remembering how great it was to cop a quick feel of those boobs. But especially on the nights when tasting Cathy's cunt seemed unattainable, what really made me spew was thoughts of tasting your dick. And apparently, your dick is more attainable." At this, he takes my prick in his hand and licks off the drop of precum that has re-formed, so soon after I squirted actual cum out the same hole.

"You're right, dude, you can attain my dick any fucking time," I reply as he sets to work on a long, slow, intentional blowjob.

Our tent is just a couple hundred yards down the beach, but we've got all afternoon to get back there. And it will take all afternoon.