Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Bus Stop Kid

I was hanging out at our local bus plaza one morning, waiting like I did every day for the high school bus. Kids of all ages waited there for the various buses.

There was not much to do at the bus plaza; however I got kind of a kick out of observing the kids who waited for the middle school bus, wondering what kind of silly stuff they were going to do that day. Sometimes they rewarded my vigilance in unexpected ways (from time to time I saw boys slip behind the hedges to urinate, occasionally in pairs).

On that particular morning one of them gave me a different sort of start to my day. He was a curly-haired skinny boy dressed in the elementary and middle school "uniform" of khaki pants and a light blue polo shirt. He was standing apart from the others, behind a bench. The row of hedges was at his back.

This guy was holding his backpack alongside his hip, apparently trying to hide what was going on. He was also constantly looking around with a sort of furtive look on his face, a curious sign that I interpreted as "I hope nobody's watching."

Here is what got my attention: he stood with his crotch up against the concrete frame that supports the boards that form bench's back. While standing there and cautiously looking around, he was slowly rubbing his dick back and forth on the upright concrete piece! At one point he leaned away from the bench just long enough to adjust the front of his khakis with his free hand, seeming to move his dick to a fully upright position.

Then he resumed moving his pelvis ever so slightly right and left, rubbing what had to be a hard stiffie against the bench, constantly grinding his dick not more than two inches from side to side. He varied his act once by leaning back and then repeatedly bumping the fly of his khakis on the concrete frame: bump, bump, bump, bouncing back away from the bench after each bump.

As one who was at the age to fully appreciate such things, I went out of my way not to stare but to stand behind a kiosk in a position where I could keep tabs on the poor kid's progress and appreciate his predicament. I was placing bets in my imagination as to whether he would continue rubbing and/or bumping long enough to fully complete the operation. Would I see him treat himself to an orgasm, unloading his nuts right there at the bus plaza, intentionally starting his day with a gooey load in his pants? 

But the middle school bus arrived and he hurried away from the bench, holding his backpack in front of his crotch.

Although there was no climax to his activity, the brief little performance was a nice piece of unexpected entertainment, and it resulted in me holding my own backpack in a strategic position until I could get a seat on the high school bus.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Bobby - Vetted in the Lockers

This story continues the shower theme with a funny incident that occurred in my 7th grade gym class.


Like most schools at the time, my junior high school required all boys to shower in a communal shower room after gym class. This rule was enforced by the gym teacher, whom we called, of course, "Coach". After every class he would stand at the archway between the locker room and the showers with a pile of towels and his clipboard, and as each wet, naked kid emerged from the showers Coach would hand him a towel and check his name on the class roster. So nobody could ditch taking a shower, and after a few weeks almost everyone was used to the idea of being naked around his classmates.

In my 7th grade gym class there was a small, skinny, black-haired, olive-skinned Hispanic kid we called Bobby. Bobby was very quiet and shy, and since in those days Hispanic people were very rare in our part of the country, he was sometimes teased a little - mostly about his faint but noticeable mustache, which, according to kids from his elementary school, he had had since at least the first grade. Bobby would strip and shower with the rest of us, since he had to, but he was careful to undress and dress facing into a tight corner near his locker, and he would walk to and from the shower, and take his shower, with one or both hands or a towel firmly covering his groin. Naturally this behavior drew attention, and some kids took it as a challenge; they would try to bat or pull Bobby's hands away from his jewels as he walked to or from his locker; but Bobby always managed to squirm away, and no one wanted to make too much of a ruckus with the gym teacher right there in the locker room.

One day, late in the fall, our gym class was outside doing football drills. It was way too cold to be outside in our skimpy uniforms, and the class was almost mutinous - kids were deliberately dropping the ball or letting it get away from them. Some few kids were actively disruptive. Finally Coach had enough, and about fifteen minutes before we should have headed inside he called the class together, harangued us for a few minutes, and told us to get showered and dressed and get out of his sight. When we got back to the building he grabbed the two worst offenders and took them into his office for a further talking-to, and he sent a kid who because he was sick or hurt had sat out the class in Coach's office to do towel and roster duty at the showers.

With Coach out of the way, Bobby was toast. Bobby took his shower as he usually did, but as soon as he turned the corner into his row of lockers some of the bigger boys grabbed him, ripped his towel away, and with two guys on each limb held him up like rug merchants holding out a carpet for inspection. They then carried him, struggling and bawling, around the locker room for everyone to see.

And what we saw was - not very interesting. Bobby's privates weren't huge, but they weren't small either. Like all but one or two of us, he was circumcised; but unlike most of us at that point, he actually had some pubic hair, perhaps a half-dozen wiry half-inch black ones sticking up from around the base of his cock. I distinctly remember wondering why the hell the kid was so crazed about anyone seeing his stuff, especially since he knew that all the rest of us looked pretty much like him in that department.

But that wasn't the end of the story.

While Bobby was being carried around like a plucked turkey, the two bad actors returned from Coach's office and said that we should all get at least our shorts on right away, because Coach was coming in to give us another lecture. Bobby's captors, panicked, put him down and tried to get him to promise to keep quiet, but he was still blubbering and either couldn't or wouldn't answer. So, in a fit of inspiration, they stuffed him in a locker and closed the door.

Within a minute Coach entered the locker room and took up position immediately in front of the locker where Bobby was hidden. We gathered around and waited for the inevitable discovery, but by this time Bobby had quieted down. Coach began his rant and after a minute or two was really getting worked up when there came a small, squeaky voice from somewhere behind him: "Help." Coach stopped, not sure he'd heard anything, and when he saw us all keep our stone faces he started his yelling again. After another minute the voice sounded again, but louder and firmer: "HELP." This time Coach knew he'd heard something; he turned around and looked over the row of lockers behind him, and one of the doors began to rattle. Coach opened the locker, and out tumbled naked Bobby.

We all thought we would now get a real tongue-lashing, and we could see that Coach knew he should give it to us; but we could also see that he was trying very hard not to laugh. After a few seconds he just told Bobby to get dressed and come to his office, and the rest of us to get to our next classes.

Despite a lot of pressure from Coach and the principal, and I imagine from his parents also, Bobby never gave up the names of the kids who'd stripped him. That earned him a lot of respect, and from then on he was "one of the boys." He started coming out of his shell, too, and by the end of the year was one of the better-liked and more popular kids in the class. And he stopped, for good and all, trying to cover himself up with his hands in the shower.
Author - FS

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

What I remember bout School Showers

What I remember bout School Showers
I remember the initial horror of Middle School P.E.  firstly we had been issued incredibly short shorts, which we had to wear even in front of the girls who sometimes shared our gym. However that pales compared to the peer analysis of the locker rooms. Emphasized by the coach’s requirement that every kid had to shower after our workout.

The Coach roamed the locker area detecting smelly offenders to march into the steamy showers of shame. We all knew, he might catch one of us or he might not. Some kids were shy and somewhat sly, lingering around their locker in white underwear representing a juxtaposed condition of either just showered or about to. If they played the ruse well they could suit up in street clothes before coach's enforcement.
  I was not much of a contender for odds, so I swallowed my pride, discovered I had about the same equipment as every other kid in class and life was normal after a couple of weeks of self display. The no-shower kids knew that if they dressed out too quickly and stood by the exit door, they were most likely to get sniffed out by coach, so it was a delicate balance of daringly chatting and appearing showered at your locker, and determining the exact moment to dress in street clothes.

I told all of that to lead you guys up to this part. One particular day, it seemed everyone had finished and guys were all lining up at the door waiting for the buzzer to sound indicating time to go to the next class. So we're gathered near the door in a line, then out of the showers comes Adam Holt wrapped in a towel. His white towel must have gone round him at least 3 times, since he was the skinniest boy in our P.E. Class. However despite the odds, he was a popular kid, probably because he was very cute. He had Brown hair, long curled eyelashes and gleaming white teeth which he displayed often. He was a friendly and happy dude.

 He proceeds to his locker which is directly across from the full line of all us guys. He casually unwraps the yards of terry cloth around him, lays it down as he is striking up convo with us guys. He slowly pulls out his clothes, lays them out as he is preparing for a date or something momentous. All the while he is full nude in front of the entire class. Does he turn away and expose only his bare Bum? Heck NO!

 It was the oddest moment of my time. I was already fully aware of boys and somewhat my attraction to them too. So this was every bit the divine treat for my eyes. His chest was like any slim kid- a little flat. On down lower, his legs had noticeably  nice definition, even where the thighs meet the body. Then of course the middle part, albeit typical 13 year-old. I was caught off guard, how freely he allowed us to know him…. Well it seemed an invite to all 30 of us. Therefore, making this different from a moment where you should divert your eyes whilst meeting someone else nude in the showers.

This was more of a display for pleasure. Adam’s Anatomical Artwork as it seemed. I carefully took in how the shards of straight brown hairs surrounded the finesse of the boy centerpiece. Certainly, he was not displaying the largest one in the room, but at the moment it was the single delicate Rose in a vase created by the master. Examining his young circumcised Pièce de résistance , a darker gathered fold seemed to frame the light pink knob, as it separated away from the superb paleness of  the thumb-length shaft. The sprouts enveloped and migrated casually to a sporty crop of semi-straight hairs, then ceded to smooth forbidden skin of his quaint torso. All imaged a fascinating picture that lingered in my mind, well into that evening, and many more there after.  
I think the bell sounded and Adam was still getting his clothes on. I can’t remember anything else that happened that day, nor should I.


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Shower Hook-Up

I attended Catholic grade school, with my parents switching me to public junior high beginning in seventh grade. The reason for this was the many more programs and opportunities that public junior high offered me versus what were available in Catholic school. One of those programs was physical education, or “gym” as it was called. This all took place in the late 1960s.

Gym was scheduled three days a week, and on the very first day coach told us his expectations. We were required to wear a white T-shirt, uniform school gym shorts, white socks, good sneakers, and a jock. We were also told that we would be required to shower after each class, and he gave us slips to take home telling our parents that a towel service was available for a small fee. My mom liked the fact that I could get a clean dry towel each day versus keeping a damp smelly one in my gym locker, so she signed me up.

Both the beginning and the end of the first gym class were extremely embarrassing for me, as it probably was for all the boys. I had never worn a jock before, and I don’t think most of the other boys had either. Plus, putting on a jock meant that you had to get completely naked. I had never been naked around boys I didn’t know before. Then, after gym class came the required showers. Again, it was extremely embarrassing at first, stripping naked and going to the showers with all these other boys. But since we all had to get naked and shower, I made the best of it and pretended it didn’t bother me. But after two or three classes, I found myself secretly looking forward to shower time because it gave me a chance to see all the other boys naked.

The shower room was designed with one round pole in the middle, off of which sprayed eight showerheads in a circle. So eight boys would shower at once, and we would all be positioned facing one another, so it was easy to see the cocks on all the other boys. At the beginning of seventh grade, I had not yet ever masturbated, nor had I ever had an orgasm or ever ejaculated. But I found myself going home after school, lying on my bed, putting my hand in my pants and fondling myself while thinking about the naked images and beautiful cocks on some of the boys in my gym class. I did not realize this was my evolving sexual arousal, but it certainly was. I began to really look forward to the days when I had gym class because of the showers. I began to pick out my favorite boys I wanted to shower near, some I just loved to see naked all over, and others I just loved the looks of their developing young cocks. (Mine at the time had some hair growing around it, but from a distance it didn’t look like I had any. Some of the boys already had dark little bushes, and I found those most exciting to look at and dream about.)

It was in February of seventh grade that while showering at home I was thinking about the cock one boy in particular from my gym class. Those thoughts caused me to get an erection. And then I started washing it with my soapy hand and discovered that it felt really nice. So I kept stroking it with my soapy hand. Then, something very strange started to happen that had never happened before. There in the shower, I experienced my first orgasm and a little bit of something strange also squirted out of it.

Once I discovered how to masturbate, those gym showers became even more exciting for me. I learned how to time myself so that I arrived in the shower room too late to be among the first group of eight boys. So I had no choice but to stand there, naked and outside the circle until there was an opening so I could shower. I also tried to time it so I would actually be showering at the same time as some boys whose naked bodies turned me on the most. I had also learned that what I was doing at home was called whacking off or jerking off, and I became consumed with curiosity if some of the cutest boys in my gym class were also whacking off their young cocks.

I began selectively trying to befriend boys who turned me on the most in the showers. Friendships gave the opportunity for sleepovers, and sleepovers made the opportunity to possibly do things together, and I’m sure the readers will know exactly what I mean by that.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Best Wanking Friend

a Reader/Author Martin had a similar story and his thoughts on a recent post.

The best wanking friend I had as a boy was a guy that was two years older than me around the time I was 14-15. He was a very quiet person. At school he was kind of a loner and the last person you would guess ever did anything sexual. But he was a great jacking buddy, very thoughtful and kind. Just a real nice friend. He took care of my stiffie for me every time we had a chance and let me do the same for him which I loved doing. He would tell me how good I made him feel. We did our best jacking when we spent the night together. We would get real hard and then lay there together getting more and more erect and fired up. Then jack a little bit or feel each other a little bit or maybe do some tickling. At last heading for our climaxes, wishing it was not over yet. And sometimes we would get horny again before time to get up. There is something very wonderful about two boys laying up against their best friend and helping each other have a great experience despite a couple years difference.

I enjoyed the story but have something to say: The writer said that he and the younger neighbor boy were not big buddies. I think he missed out on a good friendship by being so secret about his own masturbation and not following up on his discovery about the other boy. After learning that the neighbor boy liked to wank he could have gone on to cautiously find out whether something might develop. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Reason To Wank - On the Bottom Bunk

My family was real good friends with the people across the street. Ever so often they would go out of town and their kids (a boy and a girl) would sleep over at our house. The boy was younger than me. Him and me were friends of course but not big buddies because of the age difference.

My room had bunk beds and when that boy stayed over, he slept in my top bunk. This happened a lot while we were growing up.

I was fifteen the first time something crazy happened. I was laying in bed and thought, why are we shaking? Well, not really shaking, but I could feel the bed kind of vibrating. It was a total surprise to me and I realized in an instant, OMG! the kid is jacking off up there! I don't believe it! When did he get old enough to jack off!

After a little while of feeling what was going on I reached up and touched the bottom of his mattress. I could feel a very gentle shaking motion as he constantly jerked. I was really freaked about it, because of knowing something secret about the kid and thinking about his dick being hard and his hand banging away on it!

I knew that it was "wrong" for me to know what he was doing to himself, but I also got a wild boner. At first I didn't intend to jack off but soon changed my mind because of getting abnormally hard and majorly horny while he jacked. After he jacked for a few minutes he went faster and faster, and I could feel the continuous rapid vibrating of his mattress as he stroked his stiffie!  Then there was kind of a sudden bump and the jacking stopped. After that I could feel him breathing while I touched the mattress, but nothing else.

He was only about twelve, not more than thirteen, but jacking off! I put only my thumb and finger on my dick and stroked my crazy boner in the lightest, slowest way possible so that he would not know I was doing it. Right away I started feeling like I was going to cum, getting the crazy feelings and knowing it was happening real quick and that it was going to be a good one. Not being prepared with anything to shoot cum into, I had to let it squirt into my sheet when I got my humongous ejaculation.

After that I couldn't wait until the next time he spent the night to see whether he would jack off. Every time he stayed over after that, he always masturbated and I got the best jerks of my life by wondering when he would start, then doing it with him at the same time, or right after he finished up! I would try to guess when he was going to cum. Sometimes I would hear his breath exhale in a heavy way, which clearly told me that he came! Always when I jacked while he was there I did it very lightly to keep it private.

Because of getting mega horny from what the other boy did, I always worked up to an awesome climax when he was there. All because of feeling the little dude jacking off in my top bunk.


Sunday, October 13, 2013

Adventures in Public Places

Reading these urinal stories really got me thinking about many special occasions I have had at the urinals. I live in the UK and urinals are normally only one long trough be that in the cinema, the pub public toilets etc. I had an unhealthy interest in men from about the age of twelve. I am sure it began after I had went to see the football (Soccer to Americans ) team which I supported in those days if an adult could lift a youngster over the turnstiles then the child did not have to pay. So me and my mates would wait outside the ground asking the men going to the game to lift us over the turnstiles most men would be happy to help a young supporter they had probably been that youngster at some point in their lives.

It was in that Football ground that my interest in men’s cocks if not began it certainly flourished. I don’t think it was sexual desire at that time I just liked looking at all the shapes sizes and thicknesses you could see at the urinals think about 30 sometimes 40 thousand men packed into a football stadium most would have been drinking before the game a whole lot of piss is sent down the drains and a lot of cocks would be on show. I would spend almost the whole game going in an out of the toilets my eyes darting up and down the urinals as men of all shapes and sizes pissed.

By the time I was 13-14 I was a regular visitor to the public toilets all around the city I would spend hours wandering from one toilet to the next reading the stories on the cubicle walls often getting hard and wanking off as I read. If the toilets were empty I would hang around at the urinal waiting on the next man coming in then pretend I was pissing to get a look at his cock. Most men pissed and went the odd one would give you a show sometimes even getting it hard I loved watching these guys grow in their hand beside me but best of all where the men who would take me into a cubical and let me play with their massive cocks often these guys would also play with mine then suck me off. Back then I was not a great one for bathing and being uncut I often had build up of smeg behind my foreskin some men would clean it away with a finger others used their mouth to clean it away not only was the feeling great but most of these men would slip you some money usually a pound note but sometimes as much as a fiver.

By the time I was 15 I was sucking them as well as wanking them. I loved the feel and taste of a cock in my mouth but the most exciting thing for me was to see a man with a really big cock pissing I got as much of a thrill watching the men who were only there to pee as I did the ones who wanted to play and pay. Until the age of about 20 I earned a lot of cash and saw thousands and thousands of cocks at the urinals.

My interest waned when I got into girls. I got married and now have my own family. Even to this day although I would not touch another man’s cock I often have a quick look when I am at a urinal and if I have a wank it is normally thinking of my younger days and a man’s big cock hanging from his jeans and piss streaming out.


Friday, October 11, 2013

Pretending to be Straight

At camp one year some guys made a hole to secretly look in the girls shower. It was not made real good and maybe nobody ever really saw a naked girl. But the sex hungry boys sure got boners. Mostly due to teen hormones and imagination, I think. Sometimes they jacked off in the closet where the peeking hole was. I didn't give a shit about seeing any girls, but I did some very good jacking just by going along with them.

Also I had fun telling other boys about the hole and going with them to see it...... and of course them!!

Sometimes straight boys jacking-off would get so horny that they wanted people to take turns feeling everybody! I would get to feel straight guys dicks and jack them a little. Straight boys would even feel me! It was super horny!

The boys jacked because of the girls and I jacked because of the boys. You gotta make your own chances.


Thursday, October 10, 2013

The Painted Tee Tee

When I was real little I called my penis my "tee-tee." My mother loved to tell what she thought was a funny story about the time I was painting with finger paints and had to go to the bathroom. She said I came running out of the bathroom holding my penis and sobbing, "Paint on my tee-tee! Paint on my tee-tee!"

My brother (three years older than me) brought up that story all the time when he was making fun of me. Whenever anything upset me he would ask in a sarcastic voice, "What's the matter? Got paint on your tee-tee?"

I believe that every one of us guys had some cutesy name for our pre-mature Pecker at some point.
I  invite guys to comment on this post if you care to share your adolescent or toddler name for it.
Also notice the poll at the right for when you graduated from this playful nomenclature. 

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Repost from R*W -First Time Getting and Giving.....

R*W: “First Time Giving and Receiving Oral Sex”

When I was 13 I spent a lot of time with my friend Mike. He was a little younger
than me but not by much (like a few months). We were hanging out playing Xbox
and making cock jokes. We were kids and that was hilarious to us. The jokes
started deteriorating to
“My dick is so big…” type of stuff and all of a sudden he gets this grin on his face says,
“Prove it.”
 I thought he was kidding at first so I just laughed.
“No really,” he says.
“Prove it. I bet my dick is bigger than yours.”

“No!” I say. “Why do you want to see my cock?”

“I don’t WANT to see it I just think mine is bigger. How bout we make a bet?
Whose ever is smaller has to suck the other off.”

At first I really didn’t want to but after I thought about it I figured that
when I win I could just pretend it was this girl I had a crush on (at this point I didn’t know I was gay yet). Besides, I was an early bloomer and my penis was pretty big for a 13 year olds then (about 5”soft) so I sort of convinced myself that I was going to win anyway.

So we both stand up and turn our backs to each other. I take off my pants and
turn back around. We both stare at each other’s junk and I feel a knot form in
my stomach. He was huge! His penis was almost an inch longer than mine and much thicker. He was also uncut which was new to me being Jewish and circumcised. At first he doesn’t say anything and I think he might have thought I was the biggest, but then he smirks and says,
“Well…go on. Suck IT!”

He sits down on his bed and starts playing with himself trying to get hard. I
frantically run through all of the pornos I’d watched in my mind trying to
remember how the girls always did it. I get down on my knees in front of him and
start playing with his penis and jerking him off.
“Quit stalling,” he says and actually pushes my head down onto his dick.

 I start to move my head up and down and I hear him make a little moaning sound. He leans back and sort of trusts his hips up a little. I could feel him trembling. He didn’t last to long. I felt him start to twitch and he weakly pushed me up with one hand. I watched his cum dribble out of his head and I felt this strong urge to lick it up like they do in the pornos. Instead I stood up and turned around to go get my boxers. But before I could bend over to get them I heard the bedsprings creak and he was behind me. He grabs my limp cock and starts playing with me. Sort of rubbing and fondling. I stiffen and feel his wet dick softly brushing up against my naked butt. I start getting hard and he tightens his grip. He starts to rub my chest with his other hand and he whispers in my ear,
“I’ve wanted to do this for a while. It’s my turn..”

He turns me around and gets down on his knees sliding his hands down my sides. His hands came to rest on my butt and he started to lick the side of my penis. On of his hands crept down and he grabbed my balls really tightly.
(I know what your thinking…it’s like he’s done hid before. Well, as it
turned out, he had.)
I closed my eyes and tried to keep standing. Suddenly, my legs felt very weak. And then it was in is mouth. He grabbed my balls even tighter and started moving his head up and down. It was really hot in his mouth and kept moving his tongue around inside. His other hand was still on my ass and I felt him squeeze and move one finger onto my asshole.  I made a little noise as he slowly slid his finger in. It hurt a lot. But it also felt kind of good. He kept moving his head faster and faster and when I was about to climax and I tried to tell him, but I couldn’t move. With a little cry I came in his mouth. For a moment he stopped and looked up at me. He had a very confused look on his face. Then he very visibly swallowed and then smiled. He stood up and our cocks brushed up against each other. We didn’t go any further than that even though I think he wanted to.
We went back to playing Xbox, but didn’t bother putting our clothes back on…it seemed pointless somehow. I still remember him walking around his room doing stuff. His big, uncut cock swinging a little.
 I think that is why I have a thing for uncut boys today.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Reprint from early R*W - The Opportunity I Missed

R*W : The opportunity I missed

Authors Note -

(This is an excellent website in that if gives adult guys like myself a chance

to talk about and share stories and events in our lives that we have not been

able to share with anyone. Plus, maybe it gives the younger guys reading them

some assurance that "you're not alone, in your thoughts, problems, emotions,


When I was 12, Neal's parents went out of town one weekend so Neal spent the
whole weekend with me. We were very good friends, and it was an exciting
weekend. But I have kicked myself all my life for opportunities I had that I
stupidly passed up.

When we were getting ready for bed the second night my mom said we both needed
to bathe. Neal was very excited and filled the tub with my bubble bath, stripped
naked and got in. All I saw was his bare butt. Well, my mom got very upset that
I was in the bathroom with him and ordered me to leave even though Neal begged
her to let me stay. "No. Neal needs his privacy." So the next time I saw Neal, he
was out, dried off, and in his underpants. Then it was my turn to bathe, which
of course I had to do alone too. (Maybe a good thing because I had a boner Going
on by then anyway.)

Then it was bedtime. I knew Neal was uncircumcised and he was the only boy I
knew who looked like that. I was curious as hell to see it up close. When we got
in bed, Neal started grabbing for my private parts (we had only our underpants on)
and I did everything I could to prevent him from touching me. I was embarrassed
as I could be because, I again had an erection and I did not want him to know ...
For fear he'd think I was a "faggot" by being excited like that. (I had never
yet masturbated, so I had no idea about any of that either.)

So that night, I had Neal WANTING me to be in the bathroom with him while he was
in the bathtub, and then WANTING to touch and play with my dick! But I stupidly
was too shy to let him!

I never did see Neal with an erection or ever get to play with his uncircumcised
Penis. At the time, I did not know that it was just like mine, but covered. How
shocked I woulda been if I could have seen him pull it back and see that his
Penis had a head on it that looked just like mine! I thought his was totally
MISSING a head! To me, that what his uncircumcised cock looked like!

For years I was so mad at myself for blowing that opportunity. We never again
had that private opportunity to possibly share discovery sex play.

We are on a roll now!!

Sunday, October 6, 2013

The Morning Stiffie

 No doubt there are many guys who grew up facing scorn for their self-service. I feel sad for the guys who did struggle with that, since it is obviously so essential for a guy that age.

Masturbation Guilt

As a boy, I felt very guilty about my masturbation habit. I knew that other boys probably masturbated, but I seriously doubted that ANY boy did it every day like I seemed to have to. I also worried that I would use up all my sperm, too, so by the time I was ready to become a father I would not have any good sperm left. I also knew my church considered it to be a sin, and I was especially sure this was true.

Just about every Sunday morning, I’d masturbate before even getting out of bed. I’d wake up with my usual morning stiffie, and I had nothing to do other than get ready for church. But just about every week, while I would be standing in church, my balls would start to slightly ache. I wasn’t thinking that it was normal for my testicles to be a little swollen and tender about an hour or so after having ejaculated. I felt it was God himself giving me a reminder, right there in his church, that he considered ‘self-mutilation’ to be a sinful act. Many months and years earlier, before I discovered masturbation, my young little testicles NEVER ached in church. So it was obvious to me that my nuts aching while in church definitely had to do with the fact I was masturbating and God was letting me know he was pissed about it.

At home, my mother was also by this time in my life always riding my ass to do stuff. She had this phrase, “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”, that she’d yell at me whenever she felt I was doing nothing or being typical teenage lazy. Sometimes, I’d by up in my room “doing nothing” on my bed with my erect dick in my hand (okay, I was jacking off) and my mom would yell that up to me. I thought for sure that “idle hands” and the devil were behind this terrible urge and masturbation habit I seemed to always have. And somehow my mom KNEW I was masturbating and this was her way of reminding me that it was a sinful act perpetrated by the devil himself.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Blog News

Hey Guys,
I've been researching some interesting venues, which sadly kept me fairly busy from our focus here. I am returning with renewed plans to increase readership here, which could generate some readers stories as well.
Thanks to EVERYONE for following us.


Trying to Disguise it

I still remember a terribly awkward phase of my developing puberty, what it was like to have stiffies all the time at school. I got constant boners in seventh and eighth grade and even later. I was deathly afraid that people could easily see that my dick was hard.

Trying to deal with erections while sitting in class was hell. My dick often got hard while it was in a cramped position. It would become worse and worse as the erection progressed. When I began growing pubic hair it really got bad because the hair might get snarled up in my lengthening peter. Concentrating on the lesson was impossible. I would have to figure out a way to adjust my hard-on in class without people seeing me touch the front of my pants. Sometimes I would put a book in my lap to hide what I was doing. Another thing I did was to put my hand in my pocket to rearrange my dick and whitie tighties, while hoping nobody could see the movement going on inside my pocket.

Worse than having my dick stick up while I was in class, it always seemed to get hard while I was standing or walking. Knowing that I was stiff in the presence of other kids was mortifying. Walking down the hall between classes, it felt like my erection made a humongous bulge that nobody could miss. I thought everybody was looking at my crotch.

Somehow I got a bright idea. I tried to always move my hard peter so that it was straight up and down behind my zipper. I thought the zipper would disguise it.

The reason I liked the straight vertical position was that when I noticed other boys having boners in their pants, their hard dicks made a definite diagonal ridge that was very obvious, especially when they touched themselves. I thought I would die if anybody saw me with a ridge like that. They would certainly figure out that my dick was stiff. I worked overtime to avoid displaying a diagonal ridge.

If I happened to get hard and my dick was in a highly visible position I did everything I could to keep it hidden until I could reposition it. I would hold my jacket or backpack in front of my crotch while adjusting my dick, or stand facing my open locker to deal with it, or go to the restroom (hoping nobody else was there). I remember sitting at a table in the library and sliding way forward in my chair so I could use both hands to make a major re-adjustment of my erection and pants under the table.

It would have been helpful if I could have let my shirt hang out to cover my embarrassing bulge, but our dress code required that shirts be tucked in at all times. As soon as I got some privacy I would frantically claw at my pants, shifting my hard dick until it was completely vertical and hidden (or so I believed) behind my fly, and then feeling of the lump behind my zipper to make sure it was just right. Then carefully adjusting the pants to look as natural as possible.

Even after disguising my erection like that, I would walk down the hall thinking, this is the hardest, longest, stiffest, most pronounced hard-on I have ever had. It gets bigger every time. How can everybody NOT know that I am hard!

I had erections at home, too.. Going to bed at night I nearly always got hard and would play with my stiffie while going to sleep. A lot of mornings I would wake up with my hands still wrapped around my dick and balls. But that was in private and not as bad as pulling a boner in front of hundreds of kids and teachers at school.

.All of this began before I ever had the slightest hint that my dick could do anything more than piss. Those years were a period of agony for me, always hiding my erections, feeling like the bulge was enormous, scared to death that somebody would see my stiffie in my pants and embarrass me by staring at my crotch.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Confession and the Sinner

Author's Note -
I’m writing this anonymously, and I hope by sending this in that I’m not risking getting found out who I am. Because this is still too painful for me to fully deal with, even after so many years. I was one of those boys who was abused by a Priest back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. I have shared this story with almost no one, but it looks like this blog might be a place where people come who might benefit from knowing what happened to me, and the trouble I’ve had dealing with it.

It started when I was 13. I was the only boy in a family with three sisters. My parents were very religious, and we all went to church every Sunday. My parents also insisted that I regularly went to confession, even though I really hated that. Maybe because it was because my voice was starting to change, but one day during my confession the priest asked me if I was sure everything I had told him was all that I needed to confess. That confused me, and I told him yes. Then he asked me if I was sure, and again I said yes. Then he asked me to listen closely to him, and he asked me if I had ever committed “The sin of masturbation”. I was shocked and didn’t know what to say. And the Priest quickly added that especially in confession it was important not to lie. I took a deep breath, and I said to the priest, “Yes, I had “committed the sin of masturbation”. Then he asked me how often I had done that, and I told him “just a couple of times”. He apparently didn’t believe me, and he again reminded me of the importance of being honest and truthful, and that God knew whether or not I was being truthful, and he asked me again if that was a truthful response. By this time I was shaking and I told him, “No, Father, I am very sorry but that was not truthful. I have masturbated more often that that.”  Then he asked me when was the last time I had masturbated. (As I’m writing this, I’m remembering what happened like it just happened yesterday.) I felt I had no choice but to be honest, and I ashamedly told him that I had last masturbated about an hour before coming to church for confession. (In my young life I was already using masturbation sometimes as a coping mechanism to relax me for when I was nervous or anxious or afraid. So I had indeed jacked off right before having to go to church for confession, mostly because I hated confession so much.)

“Are you aware, young man, what a grave sin masturbation is?”

“Yes I am, father.” (No, I did not realize that jacking off was a “grave sin”, but I knew it was something you didn’t tell people that you did. And I also did secretly feel that nobody else probably jacked off as much as I seemed to have to do it. I was doing it pretty much every day already by then. But I didn’t want to tell the priest I did it that often.) The Priest then told me that I needed to say a bunch of prayers, but I also needed to meet with him so that he could further counsel me before he could “fully absolve my sins”. So, there in the confessional, I agreed to come to the church after school on Monday. I remember feeling sick to my stomach as I left confession, and that continued all weekend long. My parents wondered why I wasn’t very hungry, but I told them I felt fine. I also had a lot of trouble trying to sleep that weekend. Finally Monday came and I did what the priest told me to do. I remember my mom was very pleased when I told her that the priest wanted me to come to the church after school. She never questioned why.

I remember I was so scared. The Priest met me, and we went to one of the classrooms in the basement of the church. We were all alone. He explained to me that god loved me but was very disappointed in me because I was being disrespectful with his gift of sexuality to me. But he also told me he understood how difficult it was for young boys like me to obey God’s commands about this, and that he wanted to help me. At that point I started to feel a lot better! Then he told me that he realized how strong the urge to masturbate was, and that I could overcome it with a lot of prayer and with his help. I was eager, actually, to let him help me overcome this.

Then he asked me to stand up in front of him, unbuckle my belt, unzip my pants, and pull them down a little bit. I remember I was totally shocked by what he asked me to do, but because he was my Priest I felt I had to do what he told me to. I remember how strange it felt when he then reached over and touched my testicles. He told me how sacred this part of my body was because it was from here that God would someday use me to create new life. He told me that I had to be very respectful of my sex organs and not abuse them in any way. He touched my penis a little bit too, then he told me I could pull my pants back up and he’d pray with me. After some prayer, he told me that I was not to tell anyone about how he was helping me because he wanted to protect me from anyone else knowing that I had been masturbating. He told me that he needed to meet with me again on Wednesday, and he asked me to promise him that I would “refrain from sinning (masturbating) until we met again. I promised him that I would.

When Wednesday came, we met in the same room. We started with some prayer, and then he asked me if I had refrained from sinning and I proudly told him, “Yes, Father.” He then asked me if I had been having frequent erections. Another question that startled me, but I honestly answered him that, yes, I had been having frequent erections. Then he told me that he realized how difficult it was for boys my age to be able to totally stop masturbating, but that he could help me “transition back to God’s grace”. Then he reached over, undid my trousers, and pulled down my pants and underpants. He then started moving my foreskin back and forth over the head of my penis and it admittedly felt good and I started getting an erection. It had also been four days since I had last jacked off, and my body was used to doing it once or twice every day. He then told me he wanted me to masturbate myself while he prayed for me. I felt totally weird, but I had a full erection by that time. So I took hold of my erect penis and started rubbing it. But I was totally embarrassed because he was there watching me. He also started rubbing my thigh up and down all the way to touching the side of my scrotum. I remember shutting my eyes as tight as I could and jacking myself as hard and fast as I could. He told me to let him know when I was getting close to “ejaculating”. I said, “What?” I had never heard that word. He then explained that was when the fluid was ready to come out.

So I kept going, and it still took me forever, but eventually I started feeling real close, so I opened my eyes and told him. He then put one hand on my bare butt (sort of curling his fingertips slightly inside by buttcrack) and with his other hand he held a linen cloth in front of my penis to catch my semen. I remember I really came quite a bit, and I aimed it all onto the cloth he was holding. He then asked me if I felt better, and I told him that I did. He told me that he understood. Then he wiped any remaining semen off of me and told me I could pull my pants back up. Then he prayed with me. He asked god to forgive me for my need to masturbate, but he also asked God to understand and to forgive me. Then he asked me to pray with him, and then he assured me that God understood my “affliction”, but that he wanted to see me again the following week.

I could go on with more detail, but he continued to meet with me for about a year. Each time either he had me masturbate myself or he’d masturbate me. After not too long I began to feel numb about the whole thing. I also soon started jacking off at home whenever I felt like it, and now even more often than I had ever done it before. I told him that I never masturbated at home, and I really didn’t care that I was lying to him.

Eventually, it came out that there were at least four other boys he was likewise “counseling”, and I tearfully told my parents everything that had been going on. My dad was totally furious and threatened to kill him. He was quickly removed from our church and we never saw him again. We also stopped going to church, ANY church, for the remainder of my childhood.