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.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Jocks, Bullies and the Big Funk Revenge



It seems the more I think, the more memories I recall about horny and dastardly things I did with my accomplice known as dick.

"How to get back at a bully"


It was my sophomore year of high school, so I must have been 16 at the time. I was on the JV basketball team, and both wrestling and basketball were winter sports. The guys from each sport would argue who had to be more athletic, wrestlers or b-ball players. Well, there was this one varsity wrestler who was a real, uh, a-hole. A real jerk who thought he was better than everyone. His locker in the team room wasn’t too far from mine. Most of us on the basketball teams disliked him, but I’ll admit that he bullied me especially at times. I pretty much hated him.
 

One day, I ended up staying over after practice to work out and to try refining some of my moves. By the time I was showered and ready to leave, I realized I was the only one left in the locker room. Even the coaches had left. So except for the school janitors I was totally alone in the building. So I’m walking around the locker room, buck naked, all by myself and I start getting an erection. So I started doing a little wanking. It was feeling really nice and I realized I was getting close to firing my load. So I walked over to this guy’s locker and as soon as I felt my orgasm starting to build I stuck the piss-hole of my dick right between the metal vent spaces in his locker door. I shot my entire load of cum, squirt after squirt, right into his locker, landing all over whatever happened to be on top or in front, inside his locker!

The next day, I heard he opened his locker and put on his suit, and…WTF!!! IT WAS DAMP IN SPOTS AND IT STUNK LIKE HELL! Well, he had no choice but to wear it! I heard nobody wanted to wrestle with him or touch him!

Nobody had any idea what had happened, and I was smart enough to not let anyone know that I might have been involved. When I heard about it I acted just as surprised as everyone else. I asked people what it smelled like, or if anyone knew what it might have been. What I heard was that is “smelled like shit”, but one guy did say that he thought it smelled like he “came in his suit”! 

That was many years ago, and I’ve only told that story once before. I’m guessing I’m safe now, after all these years!

===========================

THERE YOU GO. IT'S NOW "OUT OF THE SHADOWS”

SP

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Returning to the Bridge




This is part II, following up Bridge of Sighs

For several months after learning how to jack off under "my" bridge, I practiced my new skill on a slow schedule, producing my magnificent spurts of cum two or three times a week. I masturbated while laying down, while kneeling, and while standing. But there was no thought of involving anybody else. It was just me and my incredibly stiff dick. I don't think I ever thought of another guy doing what I did. My masturbations were a personal activity that gave me great pleasure as I felt my body become more and more "ready" until it reached that awesome point that so thrills a boy just before his ejaculation.

 I was in love with jacking off, and yet I did not do it every day.  I limited myself to masturbating about twice a week, or three times at the most. Maybe I just hadn't hit my stride yet, but I was strict with myself and made a rule that I would never wank myself two days in a row. Kind of like my form to ration a good thing.

 However, after school began the next fall, an experience happened that made me break my rule.

 Sitting in a class, I was right next to another boy. One day I saw something astounding that got my attention. The boy next to me had a textbook in his hands. The bottom edge of his book was resting in his lap, and he was holding the book by its top edge just in front of the writing surface of his desk. Every few seconds he pushed the book down. At first I was completely dumb, but it did not take long to realize that he was mashing his dick with the book!  This was confirmed after several minutes when he lifted the book for a moment and reached down with one hand to reposition his dick in his pants.

 The other kid resumed pushing the edge of his book onto his dick while sitting just three or four feet away from me. I was absolutely fascinated, unable to concentrate on anything else. Was he trying to jack off using the book? Or just helping himself to pleasant feelings while sitting in class? I didn't know. But whatever was in his mind, he was sending a crazy signal to MY dick. His book did not move more than half an inch up and down, but it moved continuously. Press. Release. Press. Release. I could see the denim of his jeans go down and rise back up as he operated the book. My dick lengthened and hardened inside my pants. Press. Release. Press. Release. I got horny all over. Press. Release. Press. Release. His rhythm  translated into a very familiar pattern in my mind: Down. Up. Down. Up. Jack. Jack. Jack.

 My dick became not only hard, but so aroused that it was ready for action. And at the next desk the book keeps going. Press. Release. Press. Release. I was staring out of the corner of my eye, totally involved in what he was doing

 Eventually the other guy quit pushing his book onto his dick. For the first time in my life I wondered something sexual about another person. Did he squirt? Is he sitting there with the stuff in his pants? Or does he even know how to cum? Maybe he's just at the "exercise" stage like I went through, not yet at the squirting stage.

 After careful observation it seemed to me that he just stopped without reaching a climax. From time to time he reached down and mashed or rearranged his dick, which seemed to still be hard.

 I managed to get through the rest of the day somehow. After school I hurried to the bridge, intent on jacking my horny self, even though it meant breaking my rule about not doing it two days in a row. My dick had never been completely soft after the book-pushing incident, remaining fatter and longer than usual. Now I quickly got into my favorite position, laying on my left side at the top of the embankment under the bridge. I unzipped my jeans, but my dick was so stiff by now that I went ahead and unfastened my belt and unbuttoned the waist rather than trying to get my prod out through the fly. In a second I was laying on my ledge with my jeans and shorts down around my thighs and my mega-erection ready for action and pointing over the sloping embankment.

 As I began to deal with the erection, all Hell broke loose in my system. In hardly half a dozen strokes I reached full sensory involvement. Each touch, each little stroke, each squeeze, they all made me shiver with sexual energy.

 Curiously something else was happening. My mind was fixed on the memory of the other boy mashing his book down onto his dick. By some trick of my mind, I was mentally jacking off at the same time that he was stimulating himself. In my fantasy I was anxious for him to squirt, seeing him mash the ridge in his lap, encouraging him to keep going and "get there." And at the same time, wondering what his dick looked like, how hard it got, how long, how.....?

 On that afternoon under the bridge I had the most profound climax that I'd experienced so far. My ejaculation was massive, and so were the feelings that went with it. Spurt after spurt of thick, jet-propelled semen shot out of my dick and landed on the cement embankment, slowly oozing down the rough surface to join the many trails of cum I'd already left there.

 That day was a turning point for me, the realization that my jacking life could be enhanced by somebody else's participation, even if (as in this case) they didn't know they were helping me have a fantastic squirt.

BK

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Good Son- or Fear of the Frock

This is a comment told as a readers inspiration by OOTS .

About the poll, one question asked, having guilt only when wanking with a buddy. 

It was the preacher's boy at church that was my best friend from about age 10 to 14.. We did naughty things together before puberty, like giving each other rubdowns and would end up rubbing everything if you know what I mean, and giving each other's dick a close examination and play with it real good. It always made me a little scared that my friend would feel bad about what we did and would tell his father. 

I thought there was probabaly a lot of religious pressure on him, being the preacher's boy, you know. And if he told his father, then his father would tell my parents. But we kept on doing stuff together and then he found out how to wank before I did and believe it or not it was the preacher's boy that showed me how to do it. 

We did it together all the time but wanking made me scared worse that he might feel sinful and tell. I guess you can call it guilt. I didn't feel worried like that if I wanked with any other friend, but always felt funny about me and the preacher's kid taking care of each other's dicks all the time. I felt like maybe I was a bad influence on him, and even felt like I should quit doing it with him. But we kept doing it together nearly every day until his family went to another town. 

Anonymous

Sunday, November 10, 2013

A story of Quitting



Author’s Note
I previously contributed a story about my masturbation guilt when I was a young boy. This, perhaps, is a continuation about the guilt I felt, but also a turning point in my emotional feelings about my own masturbation “habit”.

My birthday is in January. When I was 13 and it was approaching the end of the year I made myself a New Year’s resolution that I was going to stop masturbating. As much as I enjoyed it I also knew it was “bad for me”. I very much wanted to stop doing it, and I made this my resolution.

On New Year’s Eve Day (which happens to also be the day I am writing this story), I think I masturbated three times that day. The last time being about 10pm because I wanted to do it and get that nice feeling “just one more time” before I quit doing it. We celebrated New Year’s Eve at home, and we watched the ball drop on TV just as we always did, I kissed my mom and shook my dad’s hand as we celebrated the beginning of the New Year! I was also secretly excited that I had now put this dirty habit behind me.

I remember I was okay for about three days until I really started to get horny again. Of course the erections happened on their own even though I didn’t want them to. I remember it getting really difficult to not do it, and by Jan 5th I was lying in bed with an erection that was driving me crazy. I couldn’t get to sleep, and I was even dripping pre-cum onto myself. Somehow, I managed to eventually fall asleep. I got through January 6 okay, again until I got to bed. Again came the erection and I was horny as hell. But again somehow I got through it and got to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning I was very upset, I mean VERY upset, to discover that I had had a very messy wet dream! I was soaked! But I was also almost terrified because I thought the devil was now tormenting me and I had made my body so that even though I wanted to I was physically UNABLE to make this stop happening! I felt it was because of my many past sins of masturbation that I was now somehow cursed with this happening to my penis all the time!

I remember I made an even stronger resolve and I got through the next two days pretty well. But then the next night I was again lying in bed, horny a ever, and again with a huge throbbing erection. Then I started slightly stroking it hoping that would satisfy me enough. But as we all know, that only makes it worse. It made me want to cum all the more. I think that ended up to be my self-discovery of “edging” because I kept slightly stroking my dick, eventually getting close to cumming and then stopping before I actually came. And, as what often happens when edging, one time you don’t stop fast enough and your body reaches the point where the orgasm starts and can’t be stopped. Well, that happened. I remember it felt glorious and I spewed cum all over myself. I then sort of felt that it really wasn’t my fault because I wasn’t “trying” to jerk off and cum, it just happened all on its own.

After that, I decided to re-set my “quit date” to be my 14th birthday, which would take place pretty soon. I resolved that I would give myself my final good jerk-off on my 14th birthday and then stop doing it. Well, that one lasted just two days before I started jerking off again. I never again in my life tried to stop my terrible “masturbation habit”.

Anonymous

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Huge Lump




A Comment from Bridge of Sighs
Presented now as a short story

For me I started regularly wanking right away and forgot about the first time. I was always working on having a climax, not thinking what happened in the past. If you know what I mean. But I'll add to this thread.

The way my first one came about-
 I went to the restroom at a fast food place, but don't remember which one. I know I was sitting on the toilet in the stall, playing with a stiffy. Mostly rubbing my hand around on its head but not pumping it because I did not know anything about that stuff. I started feeling real high, like when I puffed a little pot that my big brother gave me one time. But I didn't know that rubbing your dick caused you to feel high. It got better and better and also my dick got harder, but when my cum came out I had my hand around the head of my dick and the stuff filled up my hand and ran down my dick. It scared me until I was shaking and got cum all over me. I went from high to flat ass scared out of my mind in a split second. Without knowing it was normal I thought something inside of me had broke.

I wrapped up my dick in a lot of toilet paper, because of thinking more stuff would keep coming out now that it had all started. I had a huge lump of paper in my pants and went back to the table pretending I was all cool. I must have had the lump showing.
 But after a few days I played with my hard on again and figured out what was happening.

Anonymous

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Music Triggers a Special Memory

It's strange how a specific song or artist's music can prompt strong memories to return in full force. This story describes that phenomena which I myself have a few recurring memories tied to songs that spur certain times and sweet friends to my fond memory as well. Read-on and enjoy. 
Eric

I went to see "The Sting" with a friend, my jacking friend. We were about 14, always horny, and in the habit of sitting on the back row of the balcony and masturbating together during movies. As "The Sting" got underway we groped each other, pulled down our zippers, and squeezed each other's half-grown erections. 

This went on for a while. Then, out of the blue, he asked me if I wanted to be sucked, which apparently he had learned recently. It was my first time of getting a blow job. I sat in the movie seat with my legs spread so he could get down on the floor between them. We had already got ourselves real horny, and when his mouth went down around my stiff peter I was like OMG  I was immediately ready to cum. Then he went up and down on me a few times and I thought I better warn him so he could get his mouth off of my dick before I ejaculated. I whispered "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm CUMMING!" He jerked away from me saying "Keep your f---ing voice down!" I grabbed my wet dick, gave myself a final stroke or two and climaxed. My initial load shot straight onto the back of the seat ahead of me and then more squirted down on the floor. It was an eye-opening experience.

While we screwed around like that, the ragtime piano music of the movie was constantly playing, a piece called the Maple Leaf Rag. When I hear the song today the memory of that incident comes flooding back, specifically my friend down between my legs with his warm, wet mouth surrounding my erection. And yes, I do get stiff at the memory. 

Anonymous

Monday, November 4, 2013

A Purr and the Private Adjustment



The first time another boy and I got horny together, it was because of his cat. When it started happening I was taken by surprise. I guess I had never realized that jacking was something that could be shared. It was absolutely my first experience of mutual arousal and it kind of had me freaking out.

The cat came into my friend's room while we were playing games. I thought it was a female but my friend said no, it was a boy cat. He said he would show me how to tell the difference. I'm like okay. He went and locked the door and got the cat up on the bed on its back. We squatted on our knees next to the bed. He started feeling around in the hair between its legs. Then he said look, and told me the cat's little dickie was inside the skin he was touching, and then pointed out the cat's balls (my friend called them his nutsack).

Right away he asked if I wanted to see something funny. He wiggled the part that the dick was hidden in. Really played with it. Then he pulled down the skin thing and there was the cat's tiny little pink dick. He said the cat needed some help! And he started making the skin go up and down near the pink part. I was thinking holy crap! That's how I jack off (I knew how to do it already but not with any other boy). I guess it made the cat feel good because he really started purring.

So while that was going on, my friend said, excuse me, I've got to fix something private. He reached down and squeezed the front of his pants and moved his dick to a different position. Without ever thinking about it, I knew he was hard. I couldn't believe he had accidentally let me guess that he was hard. I felt real crazy about what was happening.

What made me feel even more freaky, I could feel myself getting hard too and would have liked to squeeze my dick but did not want my friend to see me touch my dick, even though I already figured out that he had a boner.
He squeezed the front of his pants more and more after we played with the cat's peter. Then he told me he was going to have to give himself a private adjustment and asked me if I needed one.

I don't think I said anything, feeling very strange about what was happening and yet also somehow wanting to know more about his hard dick without making a fool of myself. In a minute my friend told me….. see I needed a private adjustment too. Of course by now my dick was stone hard in the presence of another boy, which was very unsettling.

When he put his hand on my pants to check my dick out, it was like a bolt of electricity flashing through my body! He told me that I had the same problem that he did and I better give myself a private adjustment before things got too cramped in my pants.

That was the very first time I ever had any kind of sexual contact. I wasn't sure about what was happening. I was thinking, does he mean what I think he does? Is he talking about getting hard and about jacking off? Should I go to the bathroom and do it by myself? Or does he want to come along with me? Or should I offer to check him out like he checked me? Would that be a good idea or would he get mad? Just a head full of unanswered questions hitting me all at the same time, and the knowledge that we both had hard dicks. I was guessing at what he meant, but I was also scared of being wrong about it and then getting embarrassed and maybe losing him as a friend.

I kind of waited to see what he would do. He said his was so hard that he had to get it out in the open to adjust it, and he asked me not to be mad. He started pulling his zipper down and told me don't look. So he got his dick out and of course I was giving it a secret look out of the corner of my eye but being very careful for him not to catch me looking at it. I had seen soft dicks from time to time but never an erection. His stiffie stuck upwards out of his zipper. I was constantly peeking at it and knowing I was getting harder and harder. He wiggled and squeezed it, telling me that he really needed to give himself an adjustment. Peeking at him playing with his stiffie sent strange zings through my own groin.

He told me to get mine out if I wanted to, that he wouldn't mind. All of a sudden I felt like I had to jack off worse than I ever did in my whole life, like I was going to have a huge mess in my pants even without touching myself.

I turned away from and got my boner out, not believing what I was doing. In a second we quit pretending and openly looked at each other's dicks, actually displaying them for examination. And then he reached toward me and asked if he could see how hard mine was. Then we began touching and feeling the other guy's dick and asking if it felt good. I totally did not believe what was happening but at the same time I knew it was the biggest moment of my whole life and that this particular friend was now the best friend I ever had.

He started jacking up and down on his dick, telling me that this was the way he gave himself his private adjustments. He told me that his dick always made a funny squirt when he gave it an adjustment like this. As if he thought I didn't know about cumming and maybe he was teaching me. So I told him, "I know. Mine does too," to let him know that I wasn't totally dumb.

He reached under his mattress and pulled out a rag and said he used the rag to catch his squirt and keep from making a mess. He told me I could use it too if I needed to.

We hadn't been jerking long until I was overcome with what is today called "impending ejaculatory urgency." I had never been that erect as a young boy, nor that horny. Then my friend said that his squirt was about to happen. I had been keeping my mouth shut, not knowing exactly what to say. But I told him mine was close too. He said he never saw another boy squirt, and would I let him watch my stuff come out. He told me several times that his was coming.

So we were both masturbating and looking at each other's stiff dicks and caught in the grip of rapidly approaching orgasms. I had absolutely the hardest, most inflexible boner of my life and was thinking the whole time, this is serious shit, what we're doing, playing with our dicks together and doing private stuff with each other. I loved it but was scared real bad. I wondered if it would ever happen again or if it was a once-in-a-lifetime piece of luck.

Then, bingo, I was getting my peak and my whole body tensed for the climax with this other dude jacking away on his stiffie alongside of me! We shot into his rag about the same time. He made kind of a sudden EEE sound when he came. All I could think, we did this nasty thing together and now that it's over, are we still friends?

The answer of course was that we were now even better friends. After that masturbation, obviously we both know that the two of us liked to jack off. But instead of talking about jacking off, whenever I played at his house he would ask me if I wanted to make the cat purr. While we played with the cat's dick we would get terrible stiffies and feel of each other through our pants until one of us would say we better give ourselves an adjustment right away. And we would immediately start jacking together.

Submitted Anonymous

Related stories are welcome guys, but I have some reservations about animal involvement type stuff. However this one covers our focus very well.
-e-

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Memory of the Mower Motion

A comment on Bus Stop Kid  is featured as a Post

Speaking of that young time of life when hormones make us get stiffies all the time and we discover new ways to make it feel good, like that boy did. This reminds me of a time I was "caught" when I was 13. I was mowing our back lawn when I happened to notice that it felt really nice when the mower handle, vibrating while the engine was running, felt more exciting if I pressed my crotch against it. Well, I guess I started rubbing the handle up and down over my jeans, right over where my very hard penis was inside. Plus, I guess I was "thrusting" against the mower handle a little bit too.
Well, the 15 y.o. neighbor boy apparently saw me and was watching me. The next day he saw me and asked me if I came in my pants while "jerking off with the lawnmower". I was so embarrassed! (When I was done mowing the lawn, I remember I needed it so bad that I ran inside, ran up to my bedroom, I had a big wet pre-cum spot on my shorts, and I DID have a fantastic -and quick- jerk-off session and a big cum. So, he was pretty well right.)

Anonymous