Friday, December 27, 2013

A Vacation Post

Your host has taken some much needed Holidays to rest up and perhaps re-invigorate with hopes for a few sightings of cuteness for motivation. Which in fact this post is precisely just that, a selected description from the trenches.
In a certain beachside city with generous attraction to tourists and families from around the globe, I find many fresh faces and often pause to imagine just what stories might be told. Perhaps of events gathered up from a night of random folly or inquisitive discovery and with ultimate boyish delight.....Meh sorry bout the high brow tone. I'd rather this story be told for what I feel most readers will appreciate,  but please allow some room for imagination to take hold and you might have to guess the finishing paragraph. My mate suggests that this story describes characters who could be the very same fellows who will eventually be just like you and I longing for a brief revisit to days of the last. These could be future story tellers for OOTS.

So let's tell you about the night-
It was just coming into dusk, my Mate and I came upon a playful pair of boys having some fun climbing on a old ship anchor set up as a memorial of some kind at the beach park. Dressed casual in shorts and singlet tops, but clearly they were drenched from a day of sea swimming, sun and fun. We guessed they must have been either 13 or 14 at the time. Their breaking voices were joined in conversation or in the midst of a challenging scuffle between this pair. Apparently the silly angst was stirred as one had grabbed the others phone and was busily perusing his pals pics with some playful protesting from the boy whom the phone belonged to;
"Hey! give it"....
"No!"
"Wait.. look at you here"
We can imagine why he didn't want his friend to sift through his gallery but I think we all know what a boy and his camera phone can get up to when alone! All this dialogue was sprinkled with giggles and eventually a sudden chase across the lawn past the grannies and camera laden tourists, the two scamper straight down the full length of the jetty.


We enjoyed their joyful exchange and thought it was all done.
However as we meandered down the Jetty, we found the two had completed the chase, resumed as pals and ending in a pleasant pair of youngsters, sat at the very end of the jetty with legs dangling off the edge freely towards the sea. The sight was just so cute, seeing them side by side, so close that their shoulders were touching. Their play was now one boy jamming his flip flop shoe under his buddies bum. The giggles and folly had settled down to this pair of buddies, now chatting quietly. Just as the sun was setting the brilliant sky quilted a peach orange sunset over two lads bathed in the warmth of boyhood trust, friendship and a sure measure of dedication to each other. I knew I just had to capture this sight of beauty and here I share it with all of you. Beyond the pictures and this story, we can only guess what the night held for this pair of tethered friends......
I invite comments if any of you can estimate the remainder of this fine evening for these guys.


Eric & MG


Saturday, December 21, 2013

Are we gonna be friends?


A reader recently submitted an interesting story on Why they locked door
He has now kindly provided these interesting details as we requested and his note below.
-e-

Author's Note -
Our host asked how I discovered my first jacking buddy at the church camp.

The summer I was fourteen I had already been masturbating for more than a year, always alone and in great secrecy. I knew that the real term we "jacking off," not "chaffing off" which was the way I thought somebody said it when I was just a kid.

I did it mostly while sitting on toilets. Jacking off while lying in bed at night seems to be the most common way for neo-pubertal boys to release their sexuality. Not me. My cum shot all over the place when it was triggered. I was scared that I would attract my mother's attention by accidentally shooting the messy stuff on my sheets or clothes. Therefore, although my dick gave me plenty of night-time erections, I always got out of bed and went to the bathroom to do the deed.

At camp that summer I had an upper bunk next to a boy from another town. We were strangers to each other. At bedtime on the first night the counselor turned off the lights but we could still see in a dim sort of way because of floodlights outside. A lot of talking and whispering and laughing went on for a while. Knowing camps as I do now, there was probably also a lot of hidden solo and duet jacking.   Finally it began to get quiet.

Almost as if we had agreed to do it, when things quieted down I realized that I and the boy next to me were both doing something really odd. We were laying there in our top bunks watching each other and -- (wait for it!) -- rubbing and squeezing the bulges in our underwear. It embarrassed me to be caught touching myself, and I immediately stopped.

The other boy continued, though, and before many seconds passed I was so stiff from watching him that I had to reach down and squeeze myself again. For a couple of moments that's all we did: rub, mash, squeeze, look. We were primarily focused on each other's crotches but occasionally locked eyes and then quickly looked away.

Then the other guy raised the waistband of his shorts, put a hand inside, and adjusted what was hidden there. Almost automatically I did the same. This encounter was a first for me and I was very surprised at my own behavior, having never before had the slightest sexual contact with anyone.

But take note of what was going on: Without leaving our bunks and without speaking a word, the two of us silently informed each other of a forbidden fact: that our penises were hard. That simple communication was staggering new territory for me.

While I watched, the other guy got under his blanket and briefly squirmed around. Then he rolled onto his side under the blanket so that he was facing me. I watched him carefully while still squeezing and rubbing my hard-on. He slowly raised the edge of the blanket until there was just enough gap for me see his hard dick which was completely exposed under his covers. I realized that what he had done while moving around under the blanket was to slide his underwear down in order to expose himself -- to expose himself for me to see! This entire event was absolutely unbelievable to a (previously!) nice guy like me, and yet so compelling that I was fully engaged in it.

As soon as the other guy could tell that I'd seen his boner he dropped the blanket and lay still, looking my direction.

Obviously we were playing a game and I was now "it." I'm not sure we even knew each other's names yet, however I felt that it was extremely important for me to reciprocate and show my own erect dick to the amazing new friend who had just astounded me.

I was wearing both pajamas and underwear. I quickly got under my blanket and slid them down. then rolled onto my side and lifted my own blanket inch by slow inch. He looked! He looked at my bare, naked, erect penis and then looked me right in the eye, kind of nodding his approval! Soon both blankets were raised so we could display our entire crotches while still lying on our sides and facing each other. We wiggled and squeezed our erect dicks.

These things all happened quickly, probably taking less than three or four minutes to move from utter strangers to fellow exhibitionists. 

In that short period of time I reached extreme sexual arousal and knew that I had to immediately shoot a load to relieve the stiffness of my dick and the arousal of my senses. But remember, I had conditioned myself not to jack off in bed. Besides, the room was full of boys in other beds. I had to get to a toilet as fast as possible. So, pulling up my shorts and pajamas, I climbed out of the bunk. My new friend whispered "Where you going?"

"Bathroom," I answered.

Wait for me?" he requested.

It was darker in the toilet building than in the cabin. I locked myself in the stall and proceeded to manipulate my needy hard-on while waiting to see if my new friend was actually coming -- and also trying to speculate on what might happen if he did come. Would we look at each other's penises some more? Would he be grossed out if I couldn't stop playing with myself and shot a load while he watched? Had I misread all the signs, and he was bringing a counselor to get me in trouble?

Soon there were footsteps on the concrete floor. "Are you in here?" a voice whispered.

"Yeah, on the pot," I answered.

"I'm at a pisser," he told me. "You wouldn't believe how hard I am."

For several seconds there was silence.

"I've gotta do something," he said. "You too?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

A little more silence and then he asked: "Want to come out here with me?"

Having never experienced such a situation before, I didn't realize what a lovely invitation he was giving me. I responded with a very stupid answer: "I'm real busy taking care of something in here."

"Me, too," he said. "Real busy doing something out here."

And so on our first adventure together we jacked within three or four feet of each other, knowing without question that both of us were masturbating and yet completely  separated by the stall door, unable to see what was going on, and carefully calling our mutual action "something." Despite the separation, the knowledge that my friend must be pumping his stiff penis had taken control of my entire body. I can guarantee you that I'd never had such an intense erection.

After a few more seconds my buddy began making a series of quiet noises that softly informed me of his progress. He whispered the syllable "Oh!" a lot, interspersed with bumpy-sounding breathing. Every sound made me more erect and more horny, speeding up my impending ejaculation.

While he was making his sounds I tried to visualize something I'd never seen -- another boy pumping his hard dick. Quicker than ever before, I reached a climax and shot a huge stream of ejaculate that felt like it just kept coming. 

While I contemplated my unbelievable ejaculation and the heightened feelings that accompanied it, the other boy's breathing reached me, kind of a soft, mournful, sudden gasp.

When the next morning arrived and it was time to get up, I felt too mortified to look at the other boy. People just didn't do that thing together that we had done last night. But as we got out of bed he said a quick, quiet "Hi." I mumbled something like "Yeah." The glances that we traded delivered a couple of unspoken questions: "Did we really do you-know-what together last night?" and "Are we gonna be friends?" I was so apprehensive that I was almost sick.

But things brightened up. That afternoon my new buddy pulled me off to the side and suggested we skip a class so he could show me a trail he'd found in the woods. We both knew what we really intended to do. My dick was already hard while we walked, and I kept squeezing it, noticing that the other guy was doing the same. We went far enough into the woods to be invisible from the trail.

We stood side-by-side and masturbated without hesitation, each guy taking care of his own business. No talking, no touching, just a few oh's and wow's when our ejaculations hit.

On the morning of the next day we hid in the woods again and took a daring new step: He wiggled his dick toward me and asked if I wanted to "trade things" for a little while. So we investigated each other's stiff penises, cupped warm hands around tight balls drawn up by the mountain chill, and generally helped each other achieve fulfillment. We were fully at ease together.

My buddy was probably more experienced than I was on that first night, but to this day I don't know whether he was intentionally cruising me from the next bed or whether two horny boys just discovered each other by luck.

Regi

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The Tight Jock

The earliest memory I have of my penis is something that happened in seventh grade PE. 
I was late getting my gym uniform on one day. Everybody else was already on the field except me and a much larger boy. He had his shorts and T-shirt on but was just sitting on the bench in front of the lockers some distance away. There was a towel over his lap and one hand under the towel. Every so often I would peek at him because of the way the towel was bumping around. I didn't know about masturbation yet or anything else connected with sex. However, I was sure that he was doing something to his penis under that towel. 
 
When I got out to the field I discovered that my jock strap was very uncomfortable and realized that my dick had become stiff. It is the first time I can remember having a boner. 

Friday, December 13, 2013

Why They Locked the Cabin Door



Author's note:
One of the stories about a guy who jacked off at camp reminded me of a different sort of camp experience also involving masturbation, although I had no idea what was going on at the time.

 Why They Locked the Door-

I went off to a church camp for a week when I was nine. It was not only my first camp, but also the first time I was separated from my family. I knew absolutely zilch about sex or the human body and was seriously naïve in every aspect of life.

There were two bunk=rooms in each cabin. We were divided by age, younger guys in one room and bigger boys in the other one. On the very first night the older boys made a big deal of locking the door between the rooms to keep us little guys out. We had only one counselor for the whole cabin, and he slept in the room with the younger guys.

During the night one of our kids went outside to the toilet building. He came back all upset and said he'd looked in the windows of the big boys' room and some of them were doing something evil. (Remember, this was a church camp and we were used to Bible words.)

Several of us crowded around him in a corner bunk and he described seeing boys without any underwear on, letting other boys shine flashlights on their "peenies" and even touch them! He said their peenies were very big and some of the boys were rubbing them a lot.

It sounded awful to me and probably to most of the other good little church boys like me, but one boy apparently knew more than the rest of us and whispered a question that didn't make any sense to me. It sounded like "Are they chaffing off in there?" Another kid said "So that's why they locked the door." Not understanding any of this at all, I had a half-assed mental picture of boys shining each other's penises with dust rags.

Soon the counselor got wind of what was going on and went banging on the big boys' door. He moved kids around until boys of all ages were spread equally among both rooms.

If I needed any proof that what the big boys had been doing was wicked and evil, it was delivered when the counselor told them he would pray for them to be "pure" all week. Exactly what it all meant was a mystery, but I kept my mouth shut for fear of appearing dumb.

I went to that camp every summer for eight years. Each year I learned a little more about boys' bodies and began to look forward to camp as the highlight of my year. By the time I was thirteen I enjoyed my own "chaffing off" (privately, in the toilet). And at fourteen I discovered for the first time the thrill of masturbating with a buddy -- at the church camp!

Regi

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Two Fingers for Thrills

A quick read, but probably a story some of us can relate to in our past
-e-.

Doing it with Two Fingers-

I knew this dude that jacked off at camp with me, he only put two fingers on his dick like holding a cigarette.

His dick was little, maybe that is the best way he could do it. He used his first finger and the next one which is the middle or bird flipping finger. He made his fingers go real fast on his dick, more like a vibrator than regular jacking. Sometimes he changed to only his middle finger and thumb and went slower but always back to the two fingers and real fast.

He let me feel it, He was good and hard but real little. I think he was sixth grade and both of us jacked off a few times together in the woods. He sprayed out his cum on a tree. One time he told me that nobody knew he jacked but me because he kept it a secret. He said it very serious but I thought it was kind of funny because everybody keeps it a secret, not just him.

I hope his dick got bigger before he started phys ed class.

Draco

Monday, December 9, 2013

The Razor's Edge



THE RAZOR’S EDGE -

As far as I know, nobody has mentioned this curious “rite of passage,” but it MUST have happened to other guys.

The summer before I was 13 my family moved to a different neighborhood. Among the changes that I had to get used to was going to a different barbershop a short walk from home. The first time the new barber cut my hair, he did something that I’d never experienced before. He lathered up the back of my neck and shaved my neck with a straight razor.

As the razor’s sharp edge slid along my sensitive young neck something crazy happened. I felt an almost unbearable tingling sensation in the small of my back. Each time the razor made a new stroke I felt my back (and sometimes my sides) shiver.
I felt something else too……………... I felt my dick get unmistakably hard while the razor sliced off my neck hair and my spine tingled.

On the way home I walked down alleys and through parking lots so I could dodge behind a dumpster or fence because my erection was so hard that I kept needing to squeeze it. Hard-ons were nothing new, but I’d never noticed a specific action triggering them before.

This went on for months. Every time the barber shaved my neck I got spasms in my lower back and a rigid boner in my pants. After several months this weird thing entered the next phase. I not only got a “barbershop boner” but would also discover wet stuff in my underwear later. Sometimes I could feel the wet stuff happening. It might leak out while I was right there in the barber chair, giving me strange shivers that coincided with a stoke of the razor. Or while I was walking home the stuff might leak out of my stiff
erection. Or maybe it would wait until later in the day.

At first I thought I was peeing in my pants, but the stuff was too slimy. I learned how to masturbate in a completely unrelated situation, after that I no longer made wet-spots in my underwear while having my neck shaved. The tingling in the small of my back continued for a while but I must have gotten used to the razor because the sensation became less noticeable and gradually disappeared.

Anonymous Author

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Gonna Make a Shot Tonight?


 Comment Featured as Short Story, yeah it's a good one.
-e-

 Here is my experience with a step-brother. During the years that I was about 10 through 15, my step-brother lived with us (my step-father's son). Me and him shared a bedroom. We were almost the same age, just a few months apart. Naturally we messed with each other's junk while pretending to wrestle or tickle. He was the first to find out how his dick worked, and right away showed me. We immediately got hyped on it and did it as a regular thing. After we started jacking, it was like having a ready-made masturbation buddy in the next bed.

 Odd thing, we didn't hang out together away from home. I had my personal friends and jerked occasionally with a couple of them, so I got off with other guys, not just the step-brother. Same with him, he had his friends and his own life, which included other jackers. So some nights one of us had already jerked during the day and might not want to do it again. If he didn't need to jerk, I usually would not do it alone. We both always knew we had each other whenever we wanted some action. Going to bed, one of us would ask, "Gonna make a shot tonight?" If the answer was "Yeah," the next question would be "Need a helping hand?" While we jacked and helped each other feel good we sometimes talked about the other boys we did it with, describing their dicks or their masturbation technique for each other. But we were never a threesome with any of those other guys.

Submitted Anonymous

Need a helping hand?

 Comment Featured as Short Story, yeah it's a good one.
-e-

I found the mention of brothers interesting (in a comment on http://oots4u.blogspot.com/2013/12/repost-from-rw-cousin-reflection.html). The writer of the comment @  December 2, 2013 at 6:00 AM was talking about biological brothers, I'm sure. 

But here is my experience with a step-brother. During the years that I was about 10 to 15 my step-brother lived with us (my step-father's son). Me and him shared a bedroom. We were almost the same age, just a few months apart. Naturally we messed with each other's junk while pretending to wrestle or tickle. He was the first to find out how his dick worked, and right away showed me. We immediately got hyped on it and did it as a regular thing. After we started jacking, it was like having a ready-made masturbation buddy in the next bed.
 Odd thing, we didn't hang out together away from home. I had my personal friends and jerked occasionally with a couple of them, so I got off with other guys, not just the step-brother. Same with him, he had his friends and his own life, which included other jackers. So some nights one of us had already jerked during the day and might not want to do it again. If he didn't need to jerk, I usually would not do it alone. We both always knew we had each other whenever we wanted some action. Going to bed, one of us would ask, "Gonna make a shot tonight?" If the answer was "Yeah," the next question would be "Need a helping hand?" While we jacked and helped each other feel good we sometimes talked about the other boys we did it with, describing their dicks or their masturbation technique for each other. But we were never a threesome with any of those other guys.

Submitted Anonymous

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Repost R*W Experience:” Right in my Mom's Car”



R*W Experience:” Right in my Mom's Car”

 What happened, my mom picked me up at the swimming pool.  I was still wearing
my speedo but dried off with my towel.  She says, we gotta go to Wal-Mart.  I will just
sit in the car to wait for her.


 She drives through one space and into the next one, and she goes in.  The car
is facing one of the lanes where all the cars are looking for places and all the
people walking along.  It was on a busy afternoon in the summer with lots of
people.

You know how you sometimes accidentally get horny after swimming, and before
you know it, you got to jack off.  All I was doing, I put my hand around my
balls because my balls are cold, and they got real tight and feel funny.  In a
minute my dick pokes out and gets hard while I was squeezing my balls.  You know
how you think about the condition of your dick, and in a minute you know, what I
got here is a jacking off hard-on, not just a swimming pool hard-on!

 It was real easy to conceal.  By putting my towel over my speedo I can pull it down
enough to take care of my dick.  It was extremely crazy, people walking along
and cars driving by.  Nobody sees what I am doing but I see them.  I made a
little cave under my towel just big enough for my dick and my hand, and looked
at people at the same time my hand is busy going up down up down up down!

 I was thinking funny things, like talking to people.  Hey, you, skinny boy in
the shorts and flip flops!  When was the last time you jacked off?  I'm doing it
right here in this car while you walk by!

 Kid with the mirror sunglasses, trying to look so cool!  I bet your dick gets
hard and you know what to do with it.  If you knew what I'm doing.....

 One time a guy goes by that I know at school.  Yo!  Cameron!  How's your dick
which I remember from seventh grade PE?  Guess what, I am pumping my humongous
hard-on right this minute and looking at you walk by!

 You know how you sometime decide to slow down and make the good feeling last
a while.  I quit going fast when I started feeling like I would cum.

 Hey over there wearing a tank top and cargo shorts, are you horny?  I am
sitting in this car and going to cum any second!!! I went real slow then and got
 very awesome feelings, and a most excellent climax that shot a bunch of
good cum-shots in the towel one right after the other and was totally outstanding.
In Wal Mart's parking lot. 

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Repost from R*W - Cousin Reflection



R*W Experience: Making a pass at my cousin

 Growing up I had a same-age male cousin who lived one town away and I'd see
maybe once a month. One weekend when we were 14 he spent the night at my house.
It was the one and only time we ever spent the night together. At that age I was
admittedly very horny for other boys, so in bed I convinced him to let me touch
him. It was in the dark and under the covers, so I never actually saw his stuff.
He was very reluctant, but I was very horny. I was surprised when I touched him
to find that he had an erection going on! It was nice and stiff! So I figured he
was more interested than I thought. But no, it didn't seem so because after
barely 30 seconds he said, "Okay, that's enough." Somehow, I got him to touch
mine (I was also stiff). He grabbed it around my shaft and sort of gave it maybe
10 strokes and that was it. We went to sleep and we never did anything like that
ever again.

 The significance of this story is that my cousin as an adult
TURNED OUT TO BE GAY!

 Once high school was over, he went to college out of state.Then later moved
several states away. I never saw him or any pictures of him until we were in our
30's, and just looking at pictures of him and his friends the "gaydar" pinned
the meter!

 So then I began thinking... What was it about ME, when we were 14 and
I was so hellbent horny on HIM, and he didn't want to do anything with me!
(BTW, I turned out straight, became attracted to women, got married, had a family,
etc.)

 Now the very sad part. I found out a few months ago that my cousin is HIV+ and
also hepatitis C positive. So I guess he's been a whole lot more promiscuous
with others than he was with me back when we were 14. I feel bad for him.

We all accept this blog as a sounding board for our experiences, and sometimes
a frustration. Indeed this story merited the author to pen it and submit, Hmmmm.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

A need for Observation (Part III of the Bridge Series)



 A continuation of the Bridge Series. 


 On the Saturday that we moved I stood under the bridge in a howling winter wind, my legs locked stiffly in hopes of maintaining a hard-on, my hand savagely pounding my dick to a lame climax.  I hated my dick, my hand, myself, the whole world -- and I didn't even give a shit that the wind whipped my sad little spurt of cum right onto the front of my pants.

 Too soon it was Monday.  My first day at the new school was every bit as bad as I dreaded.  By stepping across the state line, we moved to a place with substantially more rigorous educational requirements.  Some of my credits did not transfer, and I was missing subjects that the other kids had previously completed, some as far back as seventh grade.  I was mad, embarrassed, "behind," and deprived of a satisfactory place to jerk out a load.


Despite all this. The move that I hated would give me something I had not even imagined existed: a friend as horny as me.  I would discover a genuine buddy who would be my hands-on soul-mate, somebody to share my passion for pumping a stiff dick.

 I'd never had PE before but was thrust into it my first day.  It was a schizophrenic experience, both bad and good at the same time.  Bad: I was deeply embarrassed about exposing myself while changing and showering, so self-conscious that I sometimes risked detention by skipping a shower.  Good: the locker room surrounded me with naked boys for the first time in my life.  I was absolutely intrigued by what was on display there, fascinated by the amazing variety of penises, testicles, and pubic hair.   Not wanting to stare, I developed a technique of peeking sideways while pretending to keep my eyes on my own business.  Every crotch was different and each one needed observation.  Some guys still had the face and body of little boys, yet their penises were well developed and surrounded by a substantial amount of hair.  Some balls hung loose, while others were tightly drawn up.  Dicks were skinny, dicks were fat. Dicks were long, dicks were short. Some were curved, which led me to a conclusion: the curved dicks very likely got the kind of workouts from their owners that I subjected my dick to.  Wow imagine a trend going around?

One result of what I saw in PE was that my balls gave me tingling sensations at unexpected times during the day, meaning that my dick was about to get hard and would need attention in the next few minutes.  I found it necessary to disappear into restrooms between bells and take care of the problem, even though I was scared shitless by jacking off at school. But the restroom urge led immediately to an interesting discovery: No matter what toilet I went into to perform an emergency masturbation on my stiff boner, there were dried scales and rivulets of stuff on the walls, stuff that I recognized as petrified cum, from having seen so much of my own dried sperm back at the bridge. 

 The first time I saw blooms of sperm in a stall, I hadn't jerked in three days because there was flat-out no place safe enough to do it.  My brain freaked.  It's cum, I told myself. CUM!  I kept repeating the idea silently, meanwhile unlimbering my alert tool.  Suddenly I had the best erection I'd enjoyed in a month or more.  My hand and my stiff dick molded into a coordinated pumping unit with a well-defined ejaculatory goal.  The sight of the cum so aroused me that my senses and perceptions quickly peaked and I actually enjoyed jacking off again, wanking silently in a stall that others had decorated with their ejaculate, and begging fate for no one to open the door until I was through.  My hand was on auto-pilot performing the hypnotizingly repetitive strokes: Jack it, jack it, jack it!  While I was thumping back and forth on my nicely hard dick, I wondered about the unknown boy or boys who had already used this stall for the same purpose.  What if it was one of my PE classmates, and I'd seen his dick in the locker room!


It was a good multi-spurt climax, an ejaculation to be proud of.  And it gave me hope that I could resurrect the thrill of masturbating.  Above all, it helped me discipline myself from punishing my dick, teaching me that waiting two or three days between jerks would pay off in enhanced pleasure. I paced myself to an every-other-day masturbation schedule, letting my fertile imagination combine the dicks from PE and the cum from the partitions and weave outlandish fantasies in my head as I stood feeling the old sensations again.  Against all my expectations I was enjoying at least one thing about my new school, my amped-up jerking life.  I got confident enough to begin depositing my ejaculate on the walls instead of in the toilet, adding another layer to the history that previous dicks had already written there.


PE continued to fuel me and make me horny.  Some of the boys in the locker room went out of their way to show off, walking to and from the shower with no towel wrapped around them.  Most of us were lowly ninth-graders, but there were a number of upper-class jocks working as the coach's assistants.  The older boys paraded their well-developed crotches as a way of intimidating us.


A watershed incident happened several weeks into the class.  One day there was a commotion at the far end of the lockers.  A glance past all the naked butts and crotches showed that one of the jocks had sprouted an erection.  His dick stuck straight out in front of him as he headed for the showers.  The boner was not particularly long, but it was stiffly horizontal.  One of his friends ran over and hung a towel on it.  The older guys laughed.  One told him he'd better "get some" pretty quick.  Another told him he wasn't jerking enough.  I kept an eye on him for days after that, but his dick behaved itself as far as I could tell, and except for what his one moment of hardness prompted between me and Danny, he doesn't have anything to do with the rest of the story.


I guess I haven't mentioned Danny's name yet, kind of keeping him under wraps.  We became total dick-buddies almost overnight thanks to the jock getting hard.  Danny was a skinny kid with red hair who shared several classes with me and had a PE locker close to mine.  What caught my attention about him on my first day in PE was the fact that the bush around his dick was as red as the hair on his head, something that had never occurred to me.  It was like a frizzly orange wreath framing his dick.  And the dick itself was unusual, the only uncircumcised penis in the class.  I vaguely knew that his dickhead was hidden inside his peculiar sheath, which extended down to a tight nipple of wrinkled skin.  The way Danny's odd dick hung in front of his balls made me think of an elephant's trunk.

End of part 3
BK

Stop the Groovy Feeling



So many stories about boys jerking, here is one
.
 It first happened for me when I was 12. I did not know to pump it, was just playing with it a lot and it fired stuff all over me! I thought I was dead, no kidding, scared so bad.

 Then messed with it some more times. The way it felt before a shot was groovy, but making a shot scared me every time. Maybe it was bad for the stuff to come out - you know, maybe it was bad for my peter…...
 So I played with it when it got hard but tried to quit before it would come. I wanted to feel the groovy high but not shoot the scary stuff out.
I Forced myself to stop just in time, but then a lot of times it would come in my pants later because of staying hard even after I stopped. A lot of times I didn't stop soon enough and told myself
“Shit, you messed up and that stuff is getting ready to come out.”
 It would get all over me which was gross, besides scary. I guess I was kind of klutzy until figuring out it was okay to like it.

Author Anonymous

Monday, November 25, 2013

I'M GOING TO HELL!



The title alone grabbed me here. What follows is a well told account of an evening spent by a young man, alone yet discovering a few of the mysteries of his gender.
E-G

 I'M GOING TO HELL!

Maybe some of you who come here to read these articles were like me, growing up in ignorance. The times were not as open then, and information about what was happening to us was not available to boys. You went through puberty absolutely alone, frightened by your wet dreams, silent about your erections, discovering masturbation purely by accident, and feeling guilty because it felt so damn wonderful and you did it every chance you got. No jack-off buddies, no internet porn, just you and your stiff dick all by yourself, reaching a solitary climax with the door locked and the light off.

I was 17 when I learned there was more.  I accidentally stepped into a restroom where people participated in jacking off as a group sport, so to speak. I was so blown away by what was going on that I wore out my dick masturbating again and again that night as the drama unfolded around me.

One of my teachers had given the assignment of going to see a certain movie. For some reason I did not see it when it was playing at the neighborhood cinema. To fulfill my scholastic duty, I rode the bus downtown to one of the large, old-fashioned theaters. The first thing I did after buying my ticket was locate the restroom to take a piss. That act changed my life; it was nearly the ONLY thing I did that night.

The restroom was large, with tile floors and marble partitions. While standing at my urinal and pissing, I was stunned to realize that the sailor at another urinal near me was masturbating and wiggling his dick (we lived in a port city with navy facilities). I was embarrassed for him and also for me, believing that he didn't realize I could see what he was doing. As fast as possible, I left the restroom and found a seat for the movie.

However. (Very likely most of you have experienced a "However" of your own, and you know that something began happening to me at that moment.) However, I acquired a huge erection in my pants, and a terrible, sinful idea in my head. I wanted to watch the sailor finish his masturbation. What if I could see him squirt! I was driven by a force I'd never felt before. I could not remain in my seat, could not ignore the awful impulse. And I felt that I had to hurry. If he got through jacking off before I could get back to the restroom, I would miss the chance of a lifetime, something that I would never witness again. I promised myself that I would not stare at the sailor, I'd just let him go ahead with what he was doing while I stood still at the urinal, minding my own business.

Armed with my foolish determination, I went back to the tiled room and stood once again at the urinal, hoping that the sailor-boy would not notice that I was the same person who had just been there. Several other people were in the room, some at the urinals and some in the stalls. But I ignored them, standing stock still and concentrating on the sailor. He was still masturbating, (actually, he'd probably resumed masturbating when I came back) and by glancing his direction without moving my head, I had a secret view of the whole thing, including his moving hand and, amazingly, his stiff penis, the first erection I had ever seen besides my own.

As he stroked himself, my own penis became harder and more insistent than it had ever been in my life. It had to be jacked. I was going to have to deal with my own raging hard-on, and I was going to have to do it right there in the urinal to keep from missing the incredible event taking place nearby.

And so I stepped as far into the urinal as possible, determined to keep my activity hidden while I obeyed the irresistible impulse to bring my own dick to fulfillment. I wrapped my hand around it and began slowly working on my hard-on.

I was immediately surrounded. The sailor stepped sideways past another urinal to the urinal on my right, and a man materialized from somewhere else and stood at my left. I felt that I should stop masturbating and run out of the restroom, but I was so sexually aroused that I couldn't listen to my guardian angel. Instead, I sped up my strokes. I banged my hand back and forth on my erection as fast as I could while both the sailor and the man on the left worked on their own dicks. Within seconds I arrived at an unprecedented climax, massive beyond what I'd ever felt before, a climax that produced a great splatter of ejaculate that the interested people on each side of me could not help but see as it shot into my urinal.  They were jacking at full speed.

Then, and only then, horrified at what I had done, I hurried back to the movie.

But the evening was not over. After a few minutes I was erect again, wondering naively whether the sailor was still jacking off, and cursing my weakness for shooting my stuff before I could see him climax. And there was also the thought that the sailor might like to look at my dick again, a strange craving indeed. By now I knew I was in the grip of the Devil, and as I got up and headed for the restroom I told myself, "I'm going to hell."

Neither the sailor nor the man who had stood at my left were in the room now. But there were people in the stalls, and in some way that I didn't understand, I was soon standing at the end urinal and watching somebody who had stood up in a stall to give me a clear view of his hard dick through the crack next to the door. Again I quickly climaxed and ejaculated while he exhibited himself and looked at me.

In all, I shot FOUR loads of cum within the space of less than two hours, returning to the restroom as if impelled by forces out of my control, telling myself each time that I was going to hell.

When I got home and lay in bed trying to go to sleep, my dick was sore and aching, worn out from overwork. But it got hard again because I was thinking about everything that had happened. At that point I was finally able to exercise self-control, refusing to jack off a fifth time despite my hard-on.

As I said, that trip to see a movie changed my life. I should tell you that I no longer believe I'm going to hell on the basis of my sexual identity, and I had some wonderful years of restroom cruising before getting old enough that I decided to take myself out of circulation.

Anybody else get their "start" in the restroom of an old movie house?

This was a well written and expertly presented story, (Here’s where I apologize to the Anon Author) I made very few careful word changes only for the purpose of story flow. To the readers, the content remained exactly as told.