Saturday, August 31, 2013

Childhood Friend



Okay people, this story speaks to me so much, and I am sure it is a similar story most of you would profess to….if you had any urgent need to???
 The situations may be slightly different, but stay with us until the end, You will see what I mean!
Thank you author, I love you Man~! Well in a general appreciation kinda way….
-e-

Story: Childhood friend

Author’s Note:
Have I ever run into a childhood friend that I was intimate with, you ask.fantastic timing.
My sister invited "Davy" to my mother's birthday party a few months ago and the encounter
has been on my mind ever since.

Our families were close friends and we were together constantly from infancy. Davy (not his real name)
is a year younger than me, but he was the sexually aggressive one when we were kids, coming up with all sorts of ideas that (in the early years) merely involved getting naked.

Although the first things are fuzzy in my memory, several incidents stand out. Davy had bunk beds in his room. One time when I spent the night, he was in the upper bunk. He rolled his mattress back, pulled his underwear down, and lay on his front with his little dick dangling down through the springs. He told me
I could wiggle it if I wanted to, and when I touched it, told me to tickle it. Next he insisted that we trade places so he could return the favor.

Another time we were watching TV when nobody else was home. Suddenly he slid his pants down so that his dick was exposed as he sat on the couch. After a minute he told me to stand up, and
unfastened my pants and forcibly pulled them down while I was holding onto them, saying "That's more comfortable."

He never wanted me to piss alone, preferring that the two of us go outside and piss together in some hidden location. Sometimes we pissed into empty Coke bottles in the garage.

Little things, you see, between good friends who had not yet reached puberty.

There was an old farm pond with raised embankments near his house. Judging from Davy's next idea, I think he may have been an exhibitionist. As you walked around the rim of the pond, you passed gaps in the trees where you could see a busy highway. Several times we dropped our pants all the way around our ankles
and held our shirts up to our armpits. Then we shuffled around the top of the pond's embankment as best we could, flashing the highway traffic.

In the trees that surrounded the pond he built an outdoor toilet from an old toilet seat and scrap lumber. He often had me sit on the seat while he examined and tickled my dick and balls, trading places with me after a few minutes and giving me detailed instructions on how to tickle him. One time he wanted to know
if I needed to dump a load, and then got down on his knees to look under the seat and watch the turds coming out of my butt.

Perhaps we got erections as little boys; I don't know. My first memory of boners was at maybe eleven or twelve when he was tickling me while I laid naked on my bed. He said "It's standing up!" Sure enough, my dick was stiff and perfectly vertical above my groin.

This marked a change in our relationship because my dick started to mature before his. His little dick got stiffies of its own, but his attention was completely focused on my larger dick. He constantly wanted to play with it and make me feel good. My dick became the focus of our entire friendship.

During this phase he wanted me to tell him every place I had pissed and how many times my dick had been hard. Now that I was big but he was still little, he took it as a great favor whenever I touched his dick. He would say "Can you tickle me today if you don't mind?" Meanwhile he was fully engaged in playing
with my erect cock and cuddling my balls while ignoring his own little stiffie.

Then puberty hit and I discovered masturbation. It's surprising that I didn't shoot my first wad while playing with Davy, but it happened in complete privacy. I couldn't wait to show Davy.

I picked a hell of a place to show him what I'd learned, the restroom of a video arcade with other guys going in and out all the time. He stood at the sink and watched me jack off at a urinal. The process was interrupted several times, but eventually I climaxed and accidentally sprayed my immature little cumshots
onto the wall above the urinal. Davy was astounded. The best way I can describe it is that he was deeply proud of me.

The relationship shifted again. Now all Davy wanted to do was jack me off. I think he was embarrassed that he hadn't reached what somebody has called "the magic moment." He was happy to let me to tickle him and and hold onto his dick while he stroked me, but he knew he couldn't shoot and didn't try.

Then things got really odd. Since Davy and I couldn't see each other every day, sometimes I had to jack off alone. Davy was somehow sad or hurt if he discovered that I had shot my wad without his help. He sent me notes in the mail that said stuff like "Don't do anything until I can help you."

Finally, more than a year later, Davy hit his own magic moment. He showed me proudly how he could jack off. He allowed me to stroke him from time to time, but clearly preferred doing his own job.

Davy's puberty, strangely, was the peak of our relationship and the beginning of its decline.  After he began to masturbate, he lost interest in me. We occasionally jacked off together whenever we ran into each other, but it became increasingly infrequent and gradually we went our separate ways.

So my sister invited Davy to the big birthday bash. Awkward is indeed a good word. I shook his hand and smiled and then hauled my butt out of the room. Davy is married and has four children. He, who initiated almost all the contact between us as boys, appears to be a completely satisfied heterosexual husband.
And I, because I chose a career that would disappear into smoke and ashes if I came out, am firmly in the closet.

Yep, awkward.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Super Powers of my Stiffie

The Super Powers of my Stiffie
(Back-to School Special!)

My entrance into puberty was kind of weird. It happened in the sixth grade at twelve years old. My groin had no pubes, my dick was only about 1-1/2" long, I didn't know what my balls were, kids picked on me, and my ignorance of sex was absolute. I was a nerdy little boy. But despite those indicators of immaturity, my body began producing sperm.

While examining my stiffy one day I accidentally discovered that my penis had what seemed to be magic powers. If I played with it repeatedly while it stuck straight out, it got stiffer and stiffer and my skin felt increasingly odd like getting fever. And then, after feeling like I couldn't bear the feelings any longer, my whole body experienced a huge unexplainable sensation right at the same time that several squirts of jet-propelled stuff sprayed out of my hard little peter.
Magic was my only explanation for all of this, possibly because Harry Potter was big at the time, and maybe also because of the influence of super hero shows. Of course I knew that those things were not real, but in my na├»ve and innocent condition I could only understand what was going on with my penis by believing I had discovered super powers that other boys did not have. Getting hard turned my dick into a wand and the stuff that sprayed out was obviously a magic potion.

Having "powers" was exciting, but also frightening because (due to the influence of the Potter books and movies) I was scared of the dark side and I did not want to accidentally do something evil.

One of the first times that I tried to use my powers was when a bully knocked me down on the playground and put his foot on my head. Asking to go to the restroom, I stood over a toilet and wiggled my little dick until it got hard. Previously I had masturbated only when an erection got my attention by occurring spontaneously, and only if there was plenty of privacy and time. Never at school, never in a public restroom, never starting with a soft dick. But on this occasion I was determined to make my dick stick out on purpose and then force it to do its magic thing right in the stall of a school bathroom.

When my little peter was sufficiently erect I began sliding my thumb and middle finger rapidly back and forth along its short length. I had experimented enough to know several ways of stimulating my penis, some slow and some fast, and this seemed to be the most reliable method. After a minute or two of jiggling myself with my fingers, the feelings started arriving, just as I hoped they would. I believed I had summoned my powers by causing my dick to get stiff. Then I triggered the magic by rubbing it. As the sexual feelings grew more pronounced I repeatedly thought over and over in my mind: "Jason, leave me alone!"
Approaching a climax, I concentrated more intensely on my wish. When I could feel that the squirt was definitely about to happen I packed all my frustration at the bully into the instant of orgasm and ejaculation. Inside my mind I silently shouted again and again "You will leave me alone! You will leave me alone!" -- accompanied by a frightening spew of potion from my stiff "wand". The potion squirted out and sprayed into the toilet and onto the seat with more intense feelings than ever before. I considered whether to clean up the ejaculate but left it there as evidence of what I'd done. I believed that I had harnessed my powers and focused them to control my enemy. 
As I further developed this theory about magic powers and my special penis, I never jacked off just for pleasure, even though the moment of ejaculation made me feel excellent. I believed I had been given an awesome responsibility and must not misuse it. Sometimes weeks would pass during which my dick would get inflexible boners again and again, but I would resist temptation until there was some reason to unleash my powers, such as jerking in thanks for somebody that had been nice to me, casting a "spell" over one of the teachers to give me good grades or easy questions, or squirting my potion to ensure good luck before asking my mother to let me do something. It was rare for me to release my potion more than once every couple of weeks; the rest of the time I forced myself to simply endure my erections.

But as the sixth grade ended and summer began I had more time on my hands and it was difficult to ignore the  stiff boners. My dick seemed to constantly need attention and I couldn't keep my hands away from it. I rationalized, telling myself that it would be a good idea to regularly practice my magic skills in case I suddenly needed my powers; that I ought to refine my technique and learn more about the capabilities of my super penis. Summer had barely begun until I was masturbating my little stiffie twice a week to keep in practice. That led to three or four times a week. Before a month had passed I was hiding in the cellar to pump myself to a wonderful climax every single day, careful to keep my mind empty of desires or "spells" while ejaculating for pleasure. I carefully spermed into paper towels which I folded and hid in the trash so that there would be nothing to explain to my mother.

I felt guilty about making my penis squirt its magic potion so often. What if I used it all up? But despite that I kept jacking off and knew I was doing it just because it made me so unexplainably good.

During this time I dropped the idea that my penis was a wand, and began to think of it as a magical gun that shot powerful rays disguised as squirting liquid. My masturbations became more complex because of the awkward way I gripped my super gun. To do the job properly I had to drop my pants rather than simply pull my dick out through my fly. Using the palm of my hand, I surrounded my balls which I thought of as the grip of the ray gun. While holding my balls, I extended my thumb and a couple of fingers upward to slide the outer sheath of skin back and forth on the stiff inner core of my little erections. I squeezed my balls while working on my stiff erection and heading for one of my magic squirts..

I wasn't always nice about my powers. Several times I aroused myself on purpose and knowingly shot my potion as an attack; an offensive move against someone rather than a defensive one to protect myself. A neighborhood boy frequently made fun of me and called me a sissy. After one of those incidents I snuck along the alley until I was behind his house and could hide in the bushes to masturbate. I was angry. As I jerked myself I focused evil on him -- the dark powers I'd originally tried to avoid. At the moment of ejaculation I thought "Take that!" as my magic load sprayed through the fence into his backyard. I think I expected the grass to wither where my squirt landed.

My fantasy of super powers was crushed in a single day that summer. I was playing with Clark, a friend that I had become slightly raunchy with. We somehow got to be piss buddies, peeing together secretly in outdoor locations. He was a little older than me and a lot better informed than I was. I was frightened about my nasty relationship with Clark at first. It was something that nice kids shouldn't do, but on the other hand I felt like Clark had been sent into my life as a result of me taking proper care of my magical powers.

Our urinations made it possible for us to look at each other's dicks. We became comfortable enough together that we usually bared everything to piss, dropping our pants and holding our shirts up while peeing . He even let me feel his dick -- and of course I reciprocated. It became routine for us to play with each other after we pissed. Both of us would become erect and he would compliment me on the way I touched his penis.

I was so grateful for this boy's friendship, and felt such a special bond with him, that I knew I was going to have to demonstrate my powers for him, which I had kept secret so far. It took a while to get up the courage, but finally I was ready. After one of our urinations I stood wiggling my stiffy. Shaking inside, I told Clark, "I want to show you something."

He watched me slide my fingers along my dick. My magic procedure had barely begun when he began doing the same thing: "Can you cum? I didn't know you jacked off!"
Clark's boner was large enough for him to pump his whole hand up and down on it. Soon he was making happy noises and telling me he was going to shoot.

Not much more to tell. I had enough sense not to mention magic or potions or super powers. Over the next few days I learned from things Clark said that he knew other boys who did the same thing. We began assisting each other to jack off almost every day. I lost my silly little-boy fantasies but gained my first masturbation partner.

Friday, August 23, 2013

A good boy Locks the Door



Author’s Note-
(To the editor: This is just a random memory. I don't know what made me think of it -- it has nothing to do with any of the current stories.)

We are always open to new threads or random thoughts by our readers. This is “on topic” for this blog.
-E-

When I was growing up we lived a couple blocks from a shopping center. Not a mall, just a strip of stores on a main street. All us kids in the neighborhood would walk there and spend our allowances, or go on errands for our parents.

One of my friends was with me one day. We had to pee and went into the men's room at the Texaco station on the corner. It was an old-fashioned kind of gas station with restrooms accessible from the outside. Like a good little boy, I locked the door.

The man that ran the station got real mad because he tried to open the door and it was locked. He started yelling at us when we came out and said something to us that made absolutely no sense. What he said was kind of like this: "If you're doing something in there that you've got to lock the door to do, you've got no business in my restroom."

We were only about 10 and couldn't make any sense out of it - weren't you supposed to lock the door when you used a public bathroom? I figured he was the kind of grouchy person that was just mean to kids. Whenever I went to the shopping center after that I stayed well away from the Texaco station.

It wasn't until I was in junior high and had been jacking for a while that it dawned on me what he thought we were doing in his restroom - although how he thought two ten-year-olds could be doing it is still a mystery.
Anonymous

A good boy Locks the Door



Author’s Note-
(To the editor: This is just a random memory. I don't know what made me think of it -- it has nothing to do with any of the current stories.)

We are always open to new threads or random thoughts by our readers. This is “on topic” for this blog.
-Eric-

When I was growing up we lived a couple blocks from a shopping center. Not a mall, just a strip of stores on a main street. All us kids in the neighborhood would walk there and spend our allowances, or go on errands for our parents.

One of my friends was with me one day. We had to pee and went into the men's room at the Texaco station on the corner. It was an old-fashioned kind of gas station with restrooms accessible from the outside. Like a good little boy, I locked the door.

The man that ran the station got real mad because he tried to open the door and it was locked. He started yelling at us when we came out and said something to us that made absolutely no sense. What he said was kind of like this: "If you're doing something in there that you've got to lock the door to do, you've got no business in my restroom."

We were only about 10 and couldn't make any sense out of it - weren't you supposed to lock the door when you used a public bathroom? I figured he was the kind of grouchy person that was just mean to kids. Whenever I went to the shopping center after that I stayed well away from the Texaco station.

It wasn't until I was in junior high and had been jacking for a while that it dawned on me what he thought we were doing in his restroom - although how he thought two ten-year-olds could be doing it is still a mystery.
Anonymous

Thursday, August 22, 2013

High School Pal


 
Author’s Note~

I got a kick out of a comment about a boy that shot while his friend was only feeling of him, which happened to me too.

When I was 13 I just found out how to do it and probably shot my stuff a total of not more than two or three times. It made me real proud but of course I had to keep it quiet. But I got the idea I wanted to show somebody that would understand I was a man now (as I thought).
There was a big high school boy in the neighborhood that I was pretty good friends with. I got the idea he could keep that kind of a secret and not be mean to me. We got alone together and I told him to watch me. I dropped my pants and skivvies. I never even started to jerk till he said to me, that's a hell of a hard-on. He took hold of my balls and started tickling them (I never thought of him touching me). My dick was just sticking up, neither one of us jerking it. All of a sudden I knew it was happening and my shot squirted out, a full load streaking out of my dick. Without any jacking. Right away he pulled out his own pole and pumped out a load. It turned out he liked to do it too and we got to be buddies, him in high school and me just a kid. He was real nice to me about it.

Norman

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Best Friends

My father was in the Air Force when I was growing up (many years back!), so my friendships were fairly brief compared to civilians who lived in one place for years. We moved to a new assignment every few months, leaving all of my buddies behind. Or if we stayed put for a while, my friends moved on, leaving me behind.

My folks told me that military people had a saying: Never tell anybody goodbye, just tell them "See you at the next assignment." I didn't think it would ever work that way for me, but all of a sudden it happened. We moved to Lackland AFB in San Antonio. And there, right in the same block of base housing with us, was Connor, a guy I had been very good friends with three or four years earlier when we were in Arizona.

Connor and I knew each other for only a few months in AZ. He was less than a year older than me and was in fourth grade. I was in third. Our friendship was the only one I'd ever had that branched into doing naughty things. We first met in a school restroom. I went in because I had to pee, and Connor was sitting on one of the toilets dumping a load. There were no doors on the stalls.

Maybe it was a matter of us picking up identical vibes from each other. At any rate, one thing led to another and after a few minutes we were performing a sort of exhibitionist rite, each of us letting the other guy glimpse his dick for a heartbeat and then acting like it had been an accident. After several minutes of this, Connor stood up with his pants down around his ankles and swiveled his hips rapidly back and forth, letting his dick flop from side to side while I pretended not to look.

We immediately started hanging out together. We groped each other whenever there was a chance. We would squeeze the other guy's balls a couple of times and say "beep-beep." We helped each other pee by aiming the other guy's dick for him. One time we each pee'd into little bottles and took home the other guy's piss. We went to the movies together and frequently tickled or squeezed our buddy's crotch in the dark theater. Sometimes at a movie we secretly pulled our dicks out so we could touch the real thing.

That was the background that the two of us brought to our reunion in Texas, with the important difference that whereas we had been little dudes when we were peeing together and playing with each other's pinkers, now we were thirteen. I wanted to ask him, "How's your weenie?" Or "Do you still want to feel my prick, it's bigger now and gets stiff," but it was beyond reason to actually say anything like that.

There was a difference between us, one that I did not know about until later, and could not have completely understood if I did know it.  Connor was now over the hump. He was a fully functional adolescent, while I was still on the uphill side of puberty.

We hung out together like we used to do, but there were no gropes exchanged in movies and no dicks exhibited in restrooms. The sexual part of our friendship was what had drawn us together as kids, but it wasn't happening now.
 
However, after several weeks Connor invited me to spend the night at his house. He had a little brother and there were twin beds in the room. His brother made a big scene about staying in the room with us, but Connor's parents ruled in favor of the two of us having our privacy. Connor locked the bedroom door and his brother had to sleep in the den.

We played and wrestled and told dirty jokes and finally got into the separate beds.  As soon as we turned off the light, Connor pounded himself in the bed next to me. I hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on, except I knew that he was doing something very strange under the covers. He said nothing and made no effort to include me.

The next time we had a sleepover, Connor whispered "God, I'm hard!" after getting in bed. Soon he asked if I would mind for him to get into bed with me because of us being good friends.  I moved over to give him room.

 While settling under the covers with me, I felt him slide his shorts down. Then I could feel him messing around with his dick.

"You ever think about stuff we used to do?" he asked me after a minute.

"Yeah," I answered.

"My dick gets hard a lot. Does yours?

"Yeah."

"Are you hard now?"

"Yes."

"Can I check it out? Just feel it?"

I raised the covers and turned partway toward Connor. He felt of me through my briefs, squeezing and rubbing my dick and playing with my balls.

He said things like "Oh, yeah, you're hard. Nice and hard. Good stiffie. Do you jack off?"

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing. You'll know when you're ready. Does the tickling feel good?"

"Yeah. Makes me harder. Lots harder."

"Good.  Here comes my hand again."

What I expected in return for him feeling me was that he would offer to let me feel of his own hard-on. Instead, he removed his hand from my crotch and went back to playing with his own boner. His body began vibrating in a way that was very strange to me. I could feel his arm moving and the mattress shaking, but I was clueless as to exactly what he was doing.  (Remember that I had not climbed the magic mountain for myself yet.)

Every minute or so he would tell me that he wanted to see if I was still hard, and he would thoroughly feel me up, eventually working his hand inside my underwear and touching me skin-on-skin. Then he would withdraw his hand from my extremely stiff prod and resume making everything shake.

After several minutes of alternately feeling me and masturbating himself (obviously that's what he was doing, even though I was dumb about it), he told me he'd better get back in the other bed.

There was a box of Kleenex on the nightstand and as he changed beds he pulled a handful of tissues out. He completed his masturbation in the other bed while I wondered what the hell was going on.

We had several more sleepovers that took a similar course. At my house I had a double bed, so he couldn't change beds to shoot his load, but he scooted over as far from me as possible to do his jerking once he was on his final approach.

One time at Connor's house his little brother managed to stay in the room with us. Connor and I spent that entire night in one of the twin beds together, first waiting for the kid brother to go to sleep and then making as little motion and noise as possible while Connor felt of me and pumped himself to a climax right next to me.

So far, Connor still had not invited me to feel his dick or touch him in any significant way even though he apparently drew pleasure from feeling me. One night at my house I got enough guts to say something.

 "You think I could check yours out?"

"You want to?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead."

He rolled closer to me and let me feel his inflexible erection and squeeze his tight scrotum. As I touched him he made funny noises and told me "You're gonna make me cum, and I'm not ready yet." He might as well have been talking Swahili.

Connor felt me some more and jiggled himself.

"Can I do it again?" I whispered.

"You really want to? You're not just sayin' that?"

In answer I wrapped my hand around his boner and squeezed.

"I was afraid you would think I was queer if I wanted you to feel me," he said.

"Do you think I'm queer for letting you feel me?" I asked him.

"No. It just helps me jack off better, laying here and knowing you're hard."

A few times after that I got to watch Connor obtain his climax. I turned on the bed lamp. He lay on his back holding the Kleenex in front of his dick and sliding his hand back and forth, sometimes speeding up and sometimes slowing down, telling me repeatedly that "It's coming." Eventually he stiffened and said "Now!" in a strange voice. Gobs of creamy stuff shot one after another into the Kleenex.

To make a long story short, Connor's dad was transferred out before I reached spermarche in the fall of the eighth grade. I triggered my first ejaculation while showering and soaping my dick. Some guys say it took them a while to settle into a daily schedule. Not me. From the day of my first shot, I started doing it every night while laying in bed, thinking of Connor and wishing I could show him.

After I discovered masturbation, I was able to cultivate at least one jack-off buddy at every assignment we moved to. Every one of them was unique in one way or another. I discovered an interesting thing: In some relationships I was the instigator, feeling needy and actively hunting for a guy who liked mutual stimulation. In others, it seemed that I was the one being courted by a guy who was hunting a partner for himself. I adapted to each partnership, thoroughly enjoying my ejaculatory friendships. But Connor was my best friend and remains my best memory of those years.

I have always felt honored that he said his masturbations were intensified by my closeness.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Ninth Grade



 Ninth grade is the time that I remember always wondering about other boys as to whether they were jackers, and specifically planning ways to see if they would do it together with me. I was an early starter and had been doing it since the sixth grade (I'll try to write about that sometime because I was a little bit of a weirdo about it at first) but all of a sudden at the age of late fourteen and early fifteen I was immensely turned on by having another boy masturbate along with me. There was a distinct horny thrill to have a boy who had never done it with me before, standing next to me with an obvious hard-on in his pants. It made me humongously hard when he unzipped and revealed his boner. We would look at each other's stiffies and rapidly progress to masturbation. Sharing this secret moment was the biggest turn-on in my life.

  Although I scoped every boy and wondered whether they wanked, I didn't want a sexual relationship with all of them. The rough type of boys scared me, and there were others that I felt would likely tell on me. I didn't like the ones who talked about sex with girls, either.

 I had a favorite way of gradually leading up to the possibility of masturbation. There was a janitor's closet off the balcony of the school auditorium. I would ask a boy to go with me to look for something I had lost (or possibly borrow a broom or get some paper towels; whatever seemed like a good line at the moment). Once we were in the closet I would say that while we were there I needed to piss and ask the guy if he would mind for me to just piss into the mop sink. We locked the door and almost always the other guy would watch me piss, which was the first step in my plan. Some of them would piss along with me or maybe after I did. Almost all boys would try to sneak a look at my dick while trying to be cool about it. But there were a few that didn't like it and I eliminated those who were clearly uncomfortable.

 Depending on the boy's reactions and what I sensed about him while we had our dicks out, I might "accidentally" display a glimpse of a boner before zipping up. Sometimes I would say "Oops! Getting a little stiff there." It was rare to proceed to masturbation on a first encounter, although it sometimes did happen. Usually it would take another time or two for us to become relaxed enough together. If a guy seemed like he would be interested, I would suggest "Hey, let's go do something in the mop sink again."

 I had several regular wank partners. Some of the relationships progressed to sleepovers, camp outs, and other opportunities to jerk together.

 One of my buddies had a strange idea. He thought that jacking off was bad because it wasted your sperm. Just before he reached the instant of ejaculation he pressed his fingers on the duct behind his balls and prevented the ejaculate from being released. I tried it a few times but did not like the feeling; it transformed the moment of climax into an ache that stayed with me for hours.

 Some of my jacking friends enjoyed trading dicks; we would pump each other and do whatever the other guy asked.  Others seemed just to like doing it together without any funny business. Most of the time we would tell each other when we were getting close and then announce "It's cumming." Our stiff erections would shoot the result of our happy game into the big mop sink.

 A boy that I remember with a great deal of fondness today was a tall black kid whose little dick had not grown beyond childhood yet. Despite his immature penis, he could shoot large loads of cum, and he reached his orgasms very quickly. He liked to masturbate me to a climax while I fondled him. When I would shoot, his little dick always got harder and stuck out a little more. Then he would say "My turn" and start work on his own little peter and deliver a rapid load of thick wads. He and I became somewhat of best buds. He gave me excellent wanks, the feeling of his hand sliding back and forth on my boner would get me extremely aroused while I felt his balls and little stiffie. One time I was feeling him up while he jerked me and he suddenly got his climax, whispering "Watch out!" He turned to aim into the sink. I had to finish my own wank because he was busy shaking his little dick to get all the cum out.  

  I probably wanked more often than I should have during the ninth grade, but I was constantly horny and constantly on the lookout for jacking buddies.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Stop THAT!!



Last evening I went to a local ice cream shop to get myself an ice cream cone. It is a popular outdoor shop where the customers stand around outside waiting to order their ice cream. Like most hot summer evenings, the shop was very busy last night. Wait times were several minutes to place your order.

While waiting, I noticed in the crowd a mom with her two sons, also waiting. Perhaps she was a single mom with no husband or dad at home. The two boys appeared to be about ages 13 and 10. The older boy was wearing a pair of long, loose, red satin shorts, very similar in style to what basketball players wear. He was very small built and did not look to be into puberty yet, but I did notice his face around his nose looked somewhat oily and he had small dots of acne. So he was definitely well into puberty, but it wasn’t all that obvious.

I then noticed this boy making a quick adjustment to his genitals, of course outside his shorts. Then a few seconds later, he reached down and made another quick hand adjustment. Then again, perhaps just 15 seconds later he sort of reached down under what would be his scrotum and gave his entire package a lift adjustment. All this time I had been carefully and secretly watching this boy, fondly remembering that time in my life when puberty was making my cock grow so much that it sometimes required almost constant adjustments to make it all feel comfortable. Then I saw this boy reached down one more time to re-posture the boys….. but this time his mom grabbed his arm and said in a stern, loud whisper, “Stop that!!” The boy, with a combined look of objection and embarrassment on his innocent face, he simply replied, “What????”

His mom, now somewhat angry and upset, whispered to him, “Stop touching yourself!! You’re embarrassing me!!” To which the boy replied with some anger and apparently some embarrassment of his own, “I’m not!!...... And let go of me!!”

That was the end of his touching. I felt bad for this young boy. I remember that age very well, and how rapidly developing genitals were continually taking up more and more space in my underpants, plus by growing a small tuft of pubic hairs seemed to always be itchy. I honestly think that between the ages of 13 and 15 my penis was always at least 20% hard raging from above flaccid to almost full-on boned. This poor boy was obviously experiencing this same time in his young life. Like all of us at that age, he’s probably secretly masturbating in his room once or twice every day, not only because he enjoys it but because his developing young body just constantly demands it.

Again, remember that there was no adult male, or dad, in this group. If there was, I’m virtually certain this would have played out different. He would have immediately reminded the mom to leave the boy alone. Like me, this dad would fully understand that this boy is not publicly playing with his cock, but he is at the age where it requires sometimes almost constant adjustment. There is nothing much a boy can do about it.
 SP

Saturday, August 10, 2013

First Time Climax



It's not a big long story, but it was the first time I climaxed.
It all started when I was around 14 years old. While brushing away on my teeth one morning my penis happened to have one of its spontaneous erections that seemed to be occurring with much more frequency lately. Thankfully it decided to happen when I was locked in the bathroom this time. Having an erection while brushing my teeth was not a problem, but my penis kept bumping into the hard sink base and it was mighty uncomfortable. I proceeded to lift it up onto the counter and continued brushing. The act of brushing with my arm movement caused my erection to wiggle and move around on the counter top. To be honest…. it felt very good, so much so that I started moving it in earnest. I continued moving it with more gusto until the most wonderful feeling built up and I came right into the sink. Thankfully the sink counter was there because I had to hold myself steady. My legs went kind of rubbery at the point of climax. How long I stood there is anybody’s guess? But it was a while until I composed myself. Of course I had to check out the mysterious fluid that came rapidly shooting out of me.
We all hear how great sex is, but nothing can prepare you for such an earth shattering experience!!!
I sure hated to go to school that day and just wanted to play with myself all day and repeat that spectacular feeling again. Needless to say when I got home that afternoon there was a repeat performance. My only regret was not doing this sooner, but I think I have made up for it since then. :-)

Smiling Anon Author

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Diluting the Fun

Okay, something else (I'm the guy that just wrote about trying to see which "tube" my cum would shoot from.) Now - new topic: Did anybody else go through a period of discovery where you realized that your climax and the "feelings" of ejaculation were different depending on how full your urinary system was?
 I don't know when it first happened, but there was a definite realization during my early months of masturbation that a full tank of piss prevented me from enjoying my cumshot.

 It was kind of like "Well, THAT sucked!"

 Every so often I experimented, trying to determine whether climaxes were better when I emptied every drop of my piss before jacking off, or possibly a little more enjoyable if I was half full. But it was clear to me that I was wasting what should have been a good wank, if I pumped myself when my tank was full. Sometimes I would stop while partway into a jacking session and go piss before continuing.
Anonymous 

Friday, August 2, 2013

Pressure Relief



Draco Returns with a cute story from some early days.
-e-

Pressure Relief, (Thick Piss)
 
Remember I told you guys about getting my first cum while a bud played with my dong, you know? And it was the only way I knew to cum was to ask him to play with it again anytime I wanted to feel that way, and make a shot. I did not know for a while that you can do it to yourself. And my friend did not know to jack me the way people do with their hand, he just wiggled and tickled and played with my dick until I would get a climax.

Something else about how stupid we were. We did not know what cum was! We did not know that the stuff he was making come out of my dong was sperm and that it was suppose to go in a woman and make babies.

Now can I tell you what we did think about that stuff because thinking back it is funny how dumb we were. We thought that getting my dong hard meant we were making the pressure inside of me get higher and higher. Like in your pee bladder. We thought my pee got real thick because of the pressure and when the pressure got so bad that it had to escape, the thick pee would be forced out like a little explosion. I thought I was peeing in a funny way. The crazy funny feelings, I thought that was the pressure getting to the escape point and a warning the pressure about to escape. When I got to jacking myself off I still thought for a long time I was pumping up the pressure of my piss so I could feel good when there would be a little explosion in my bladder and make real thick piss spray out.

Draco Fan