***Sunday***

Being seventeen, it was time to check out a few college campuses. Little did I know, but I was going to begin my higher education with this trip.

I had traveled from home to Fort Worth, about a four-hour drive. That in itself was an adventure because it was the first time my parents let me travel alone that far. They made sure the car was in good working order; required that I called every time I stopped for gas and, of course, called when I arrived at Marion's house.

Marion was my dad's cousin. He was a few years younger than him, around forty, I would guess. He was Italian like us and had thick black hair, an olive complexion, was five foot ten and weighed about 180 pounds. He had a smile that lit up the room with a warm, friendly laugh and an outgoing personality to match. I'm sure everyone wanted to be friends with Marion.

Oh yes, and he was a very handsome bachelor merchant seaman. He would stop by our home usually a few times a year when his ship was in port. He was funny, well-dressed and had a million stories about ship-life and the ports and places he visited. 

I could tell that Mom was taken with him because she was extra talkative when he was around. She always asked him about his girls in port and why one of them hadn't caught him? He always laughed, saying, "It's more fun with all of them chasing me." 

His mom had died, and with Marion being her only child, he inherited her Fort Worth home. It was in an older tree-lined neighborhood, but it had been well-cared for during his lengthy travels. He only stayed there when he took an extended time between cruises.

It was early evening when I arrived. There was a large oak tree that shaded most of the front yard. I had called Marion shortly before my arrival, and he was puttering around in the yard when I pulled up. 

I was greeted with a friendly wave, a charismatic smile, followed by a hardy handshake and a warm hug and this greeting.

"Welcome to Fort Worth."

"Thanks.... Man, it feels good to stretch my legs."

"Can I help you with your bags?"

"No, that's okay. I only have one bag, so it's no trouble. I really appreciate you letting me stay here during my campus visits."

"Hey, you're family, and besides, I'll enjoy the company."

I grabbed my meager overnight bag and Marion showed me to a small bedroom. By today's standards, the house was small - two bedrooms, living and dining rooms, kitchen and one bathroom, but it had a big shower and a tub. Folks back in the old days didn't need a lot of room, just a place to sleep, eat and take care of business.

The place was neatly kept. Marion was used to living in small spaces from his ship-board life, so his home was an expanse by comparison with a huge tree and some terra firma.

After I dropped my stuff in the bedroom, we headed to the back patio to sip on some sweet tea and chat.

"Marion, what is it that you do on the ship, exactly?"

"I'm usually the ship's communication officer."

"So what does that involve?"

"I send messages back and forth to company headquarters, get weather reports, report our position, stuff like that."

"What do you like about your job?"

"Well, I get big chunks of time off, like now. I get to see different places, meet different and sometimes very interesting people. The money is pretty good for a high school diploma."

"Isn't it lonely being away from friends and family for those long stretches?"

"Sometimes, but we're usually only gone for a couple of months at a time, plus we get shore leave when we're in port. So, it's getting a little dark. Why don't we head inside before the mosquitoes find us?"

"That's a good idea."

"I'll tell you what. I'll take my shower so the water heater has a chance to rejuvenate before you take yours."

"Sounds like a plan."

I headed toward the living room, which had a loveseat in front of a TV, an overstuffed chair, a coffee table, and an end table. It did have a highly polished oak hardwood floor that reminded me of my school's gym floor.

Marion returned a short time later in a tan terry cloth bathrobe tied at the waist. It looked like one from a luxury hotel.

We settled in and continued our conversation; I was on the loveseat and Marion in the overstuffed chair.

"What schools are you looking at this week?"

"Well, there's TCU, of course, SMU, Texas Wesleyan and Tarleton State."

"Are you going to visit them all?"

"Yes, I have visits set up with all of them. I'll do Tarleton and Texas Wesleyan tomorrow, then SMU on Tuesday and TCU on Wednesday."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out."

"I had some help from my HS advisor. She's been really helpful. Ugh, not to be nosy, but are there any women on your cruises?"

"Sometimes. There might be, maybe, five percent of those who work on the ships are women, but most of them are, you know."

"No, I don't know."

"Most of them are lesbians, but every now and then, we'll get a slut on board. Why did you ask?"

"I was just wondering about what you did to... you know... relieve tension."

"Oh, that... Well, there's shore leave. Being the Communications Officer, I have a personal cabin. Most of the other men have to share a cabin, and some of the newbies have bunkhouse accommodations with communal bathrooms."

"It must be nice having your own space."

"It does come in handy, if you catch my drift."

"Yes, I think I know what you mean."

"I have a small TV in my cabin, so I will slip in a VCR and imagine I'm in port with someone. However, there are times when I'll share my video with a crewmate. Do you want to watch one?"

I had been feeling a little restless during the drive, which, for me, is a telltale sign of built-up tension, so my response was predetermined.

"Sure, why not?"

Marion got up and rummaged around under the TV cabinet for a few seconds and pulled out a video, saying, "This is one of my favorites."

He started the video and sat down to the left of me on the loveseat.

The video began. It was a dark night, and a man was walking down the sidewalk when he noticed a light turn on in the house he was near. He stopped and looked all around before heading toward the lighted window. When I saw that, I knew this was a "Peeping Tom" video.

Through the sheers, a woman fully clothed turned on some music and began to dance a bit in her bedroom. Swaying back and forth, she kicked off her heels, took off her jacket and skirt, and then her slip.

With the music still playing, she gyrated her hips and pushed her tits up as she watched herself in the dresser mirror. She did have nice tits, which were still hidden by her bra.

I was starting to get a bit uncomfortable in my nether region. Things were, let's say, becoming strained.

That bra was the next item removed. She twirled it over her head several times before flinging it into the chair with the other items of her outfit. As she looked in the mirror, she shimmied, which made her tits sway back and forth. They looked succulent, about 36DD, with pronounced nipples looking like twin cherries on mounds of flesh.

She continued swaying to the music as her hand slipped over her boobs and down the twin Vs to her snatch. She pulled her panties up, and you could see her camel toe. She would jerk them up and down like she was trying to jack off. My cock was hard as well.

Finally, she got out of those panties and climbed on her bed and began to masturbate.

The video flashed back to the Peeping Tom, and he was jacking off while watching her.

Just then, Marion, who I'd completely forgotten about, said, "I bet you could use a helping hand."

He placed his hand on my rock-hard stick and squeezed.

"Wait. I..."

"What? Don't you need some relief?"

"It's not that, but..."

"Oh, you think this will make you gay. Is that it?"

"Well, uh, I don't know."

"Touch your arm. Now, touch your hand. What is it?"

"What is what?"

"It's just skin touching skin. Nothing else. Skin touching. You do it all the time. Nothing more than skin touching skin. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"When you put it like that, I guess not."

"Of course not. It's perfectly normal. People touch each other all the time."

I was in no state to deny that I needed relief. I sat there transfixed, watching this woman play with her now wet pussy.

He began rubbing my jean-covered cock. His fingers deftly unbuckled and unzipped them. I felt his hand, separated by only my underwear, squeeze and stroke my titanium cock. I was totally zoning out. In the video, her pussy was slick with her juices, as were her fingers buried deep inside her slit. 

Although I was very familiar with masturbation, I was a virgin when it came to another person. Masturbation is how I have survived so far.

Marion's hand slipped inside my underwear, and now it was skin on skin, just like he said. His hand wrapped around my rock-hard cock and began to stroke it slowly.

"How does that feel?"

"Great!"

He leaned into me as he stroked. I glanced in his direction and noticed that his bathrobe had become untied. His cock was really big, thick and hard. It looked like a lone phone pole on the prairie. 

As he stroked me, I looked at the video, then his cock, the video, his cock, video, cock, video, cock, cock, cock...

I was confused, but my masturbating never felt this good.

Suddenly, a huge load erupted from my loins. Spunk coated his hand, splattered on his robe and my jeans. Marion continued stroking me, using my load as lubricant. Fuck, that felt so good. I didn't want him to stop.

"Have you ever tasted your cum?" he asked.

"No, of course not."

"Why not?"

"I think it would be gross, maybe perverted."

"Do you expect your girlfriend or any woman to let you cum in her mouth without knowing what you're asking them to do? You're not that much of a male chauvinist, are you?"

"To be truthful, I never thought about it. Maybe I am being selfish."

Marion took his cum-coated fingers and licked them, then put them in front of my lips.

"Go ahead. Lick them. It's not poison."

My tongue slithered out, and I licked a small drop from his fingers.

"You can do better than that. Get a real taste."

This time, as my tongue approached his fingers, he wiped a big gob on my tongue.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It's okay."

Running his coated fingers up and down his cock, he reached over and took my hand, placing it around it.

"Now, it's your turn to give me a hand."

I'd never touched another cock. I'd only seen them in the gym showers. His was bigger than mine, about eight inches long and two inches thick. I barely got my fingers around it. It was warm and both hard and soft at the same time. Using his hand to guide mine, I began stroking up and down.

"That's it; go nice and slow."

His cock began leaking precum, which just coated it more and made it slicker. For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I was mesmerized watching his foreskin slide up, pushing my cum toward the tip then collecting it and sliding back down, seeing his head flare with every downstroke, noticing the lines on his head, and looking at the pinkness inside the slit of his tip.

"Faster."

I sped up and noticed his nuts bouncing with my grip. They looked full as they swayed with every stroke. They began to tighten and pulled up to his scrotum. His legs stiffened. His back arched. His cum shot up like a geyser, coating my hand and his robe.

"Don't stop, not yet."

I kept up my rhythmic stroking like the lead percussionist at the symphony. His cum flowed over and between my fingers. It was thicker than mine.

"Phew, I needed that. Thanks."

"No problem."

"Taste it."

"What?"

"Taste it. It's the only polite thing to do. I tasted yours."

I licked a little off my fingers. He tasted different from mine.

"No, really taste it."

I licked a big glob off my fingers and swallowed it.

"So, what college are you going to tomorrow?"

"I'm going to both Tarleton State and Texas Wesleyan tomorrow."

"Well, that will be exciting. I'm sure."

"I need to get cleaned up and get to bed. One of the tours begins at 9 AM."

We said our goodnights and both headed off to our respective bedrooms.