Friday, February 28, 2014

The Speakers at Scout Camp - A Dreamscape

I had a dream last night that might interest the readers. I repeat, it was a dream..

I was sent by my employer to meet with a potential client. In order to get to his house (a weird mansion, but that's not part of the story) I had to park a long distance away and walk through a vacant Girl Scouts camp. When I got there the customer was irate because I came several hours (or maybe an entire day) ahead of the appointment. He kicked me out and I had to walk back through the camp.

The camp was now fully occupied, but not by girls. All the cabins and tents were filled with a mob of boys. An inter-school organization had rented the girls camp for an intense preparation in a boys' debate competition. There were hundreds of boys, all 14 years old. They hung out in small groups all over the camp - outside, in the buildings and in their tents, all of them busy comparing their note cards, checking their laptops and making speeches to each other. Very earnest, clean, motivated boys, not your run of the mill dudes. They wore white dress shirts and neckties. Some wore dark slacks and others wore khakis.

I wandered around taking in the sights, no longer heading for my car. In every group at least one boy had an erection making a bulge in his pants. I went into one of the restrooms and found a dozen or more boys comparing their hard penises. They discussed each other's stiffies with the same seriousness they rehearsed their debate skills. My role seemed to change into one of their sponsors instead of an outsider. I told the boys, "You don't have time to waste. Hurry up and jack off and get back to work."

I continued walking through the camp and visiting restrooms. Everybody was jacking off. Some boys were masturbating alone at urinals or in stalls. Others were helping each other. A few pairs or trios were standing together behind shrubs to jerk in the great outdoors. In one of the restrooms three boys stood at a lavatory to masturbate together. One of them asked me if he was doing it right. I told him "Yes, just fine," and continued standing with that group. A boy asked me to hold his necktie up to keep from getting cum on it. They all ejaculated into the lavatory while I watched.

In another restroom a boy wearing glasses was sitting on a toilet wanking by himself. When he saw me he continued pumping his dick and said very seriously that he would be finished right away and get back to his group.

There was lots more, but you get the idea. Before the dream was finished I woke up with an enormous erection plus an uncomfortably full bladder. Had to get out of bed and go sit on the pot and wait for my boner to go down. Then I pissed a gallon. 

Getting up this morning, all the details were still vivid and I thought maybe the rest of you might like to marvel at what the subconscious mind can create.


Thursday, February 27, 2014

It was a BAD Thing

When I was 11 years old and a Boy Scout, I remember hearing the older Scouts on camping trips making jokes about "wacking off". But usually it was accusing some other scout of "wacking off" in his tent last night, or being late for something because he was "wacking off" in the woods. But it was always something the other boy would totally deny doing. 

I got the feeling, that whatever this was....... It was a BAD thing!!

So when it first happened to me and I now realized what "wacking off" really was, I so badly wanted to tell some of my friends about it, but I was too afraid to. Because I did NOT want to ever be accused of being a boy who others knew "wacked off".


Aww, it's okay you can tell us, we all "wack off"!!!
:) Eric

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

What are friends for!!

A readers comment caught my eye, I  believe that it needed to be properly posted for you guys to enjoy.

I have already cast my vote, stating that I discovered wanking completely on my own. Like many others here, my first time at a naïve age 13 scared me.

Now, here is a different perspective (sort of a proxy vote). As soon as I got over being scared and masturbated a couple more times, I felt like I had to share my discovery with my best friend as soon as possible. We went into a restroom at church and he stood watching me as I jacked off into a urinal.

He did not try it right then, but told me several days later that he had done it at home and that it was wonderful. That made me feel good, sort of like I had a done a Boy Scout "good deed," only one that I couldn't talk about. So if my friend was voting on this poll (I don't even know where he is today) it would be a vote that the procedure was demonstrated to him before he tried it.


Nobody Showed Me How

For me, my first time happened while spending the night at my great-grandmother's house. I think she dried her sheets on a clothes line, not in a dryer. anyway I liked the way the sheets felt. Also they smelled good. This one time I stripped and got in bed nude. The sheets got me hard (figure that out). I laid in the bed playing with my boner. In a minute I felt some funky feelings but did not know what they were. I was wiggling my dick back and forth not jacking it. Holding the sheet up and swinging my dick real fast toward my head and then toward my feet and back again. Totally unexpected it all happened suddenly, The crazy climax scared the everlasting shit out of me. It was like having a firecracker go off somewhere inside you.
 At first I did not know about the cum because my dick was under the sheet. Then I felt wet spots all over me and pulled back the covers which showed a real mess. I slept in the wet cum thinking it was piss and not knowing what to do about it. In the morning I rolled up my sheets and told her I spilled milk in bed. After that every time I spent the night at her house I slept nude and jacked off. But used a wash cloth to keep from making a mess. Always loved doing it between those sheets.

(I was in seventh grade, kind of a clueless dork. Nobody showed me how to do it or even told me anything about it.)


Saturday, February 22, 2014

How to Have a Heart Attack at Age 13

(A true account)

1. Turn on TV after school.
2. Sit in father's recliner to watch shows.
3. Notice that your dick is doing that stupid stiff thing.
4. Stretch out in the recliner to squeeze your hard dick and watch TV at the same time.
5. Still watching TV, open fly and bring dick out for examination and hands-on attention.
6. Continue watching TV while unconsciously playing with dick.
7. Without knowing why, settle into gentle up and down strokes.
8. Still watching TV, realize dick is becoming harder than it has ever been.
9. Realize hand is going faster, but remain focused on TV.
10. Pumping hand and totally stiffened dick meld together into a single unit and feel kind of funky.
11. Strange sensations now taking place somewhere inside me. Entire body feels kind of crazy. What the...?
12. Trying to remain focused on TV but starting to freak.
13. Maybe I should let go of dick? But how could that make any difference?
14. Hand going faster. Dick very hard. Can't stop. I feel like stroking my dick is my one and only goal in life, an urgent imperative.
15. Dick hard as iron. Entire body has gone weird.
16. SOMETHING is happening to me. Am I dying? Having a stroke?
17. A kind of deep itch takes control, apparently concentrated in the base of my dick.
18. The sensations absolutely take over. My body convulses in a huge spasm. I am paralyzed with fright.
19. Some kind of stuff suddenly jets upward out of my dick, Completely surprised, I involuntarily yell "Eeee" as it squirts out of my stiffie.
20. The stuff sprays up in the air and down on me, my father's recliner, my clothes, the rug. The stuff is all over the place.....
21. WHAT just happened to me? Am I okay? Was it bad or good?
22. (Cleaning chair frantically with a wet rag) I'm alive! I'll never do THAT again, never, never, never!

23. (Next day, same time, same place) Uh-oh, a boner. Remember what happened? Leave it alone!
24. (A few minutes pass) Hm... What if I try just a little bit of that thing I did yesterday, just as an experiment.....?

Friday, February 21, 2014

Ball Bruised, Broody, and Embarrassed

When I was 11, I was out riding my bike all by myself, and all of a sudden, while in that "standing up off the seat" position in order to push the pedals really hard and fast, the chain came off the back sprocket and I literally fell on my bicycle crossbar. Slammed my young little nuts REALLY hard. I quickly became really nauseous (as we all know what getting "kicked in the nuts" feels like, and this was my worst experience ever). I got off my bike, and even felt like I was going to vomit. I sat there for maybe 15 minutes before I even tried to walk, then I got back on my bike and carefully pedaled back home.
I told my mom I wasn't feeling well, and I was gonna go lie on my bed. (I was either too afraid or too embarrassed to tell her what was really wrong with me.) When I got on my bed, my nuts still hurt real bad, so I pulled down my pants and cupped and massaged my young scrotum with my hand, and that made it feel a little better. Then, after a while I guess I drifted off to sleep.

Then MY MOM came in my room. I was asleep, my pants down, and I had my hand on my nutsack! I was startled awake by her almost yelling, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" I started to cry, and I then told her what had happened to me and that I was too embarrassed to tell her what happened to me. Then she wanted to take me to the doctor..."NO!!!!!" I convinced her I was gonna be okay, and eventually it did stop hurting, But I was so embarrassed having my mom see me naked that way. 

Thursday, February 20, 2014

The Beginning of Modesty

One time when pissing into a tin can with a friend I cut the side of my dick. We were still in about grade 4. My friend got real upset and wanted to run and get his mother. I didn't want anybody to know and made him promise not to tell. I told him to go in the house and bring me a lot of toilet paper in his pocket. I wrapped the paper around it until it stopped bleeding. However you could still see the cut.
  Up to then my mother saw me naked a lot when I showered or got dressed. I decided not to let her see my dick until the cut healed. That was the beginning of my modesty and once I started closing doors, I never let her see me naked again. 

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Band-Aided Boner

Author's Note-
At the risk of breaking into a serious discussion, can I change the mood a little?

When I was having erections all the time as a boy (before puberty) I always had urges to stick my stiffie into things and see how they fit or how they felt. I tried plastic bottles, looking for just the right size to fit onto my little boner. Hoses of various types, the spring-loaded roller from toilet-paper holders, pill bottles, etc. Also a certain wrench from my dad's workbench, which had a hole in the handle. I'm sure I was not pretending to have intercourse with any of those gadgets because my knowledge of sex was a flat zero. I just liked to stick my dick into things. It would became harder while I played around like that.

One time I was taking a bath and scooted up to the front of the tub so the warm water coming out of the faucet would run directly on my dick. It felt good. I kept elevating my crotch until the tip of my hard peter was right under the faucet. I balanced myself in a crazy position and stuck my dick right into the spigot. That really gave me a good feeling with the water spraying out of the square corners at the edges of my round dick. I would get a stiffie every time I took a bath and always stick it into the faucet. If I had been old enough to cum, I would probably have ejaculated due to the pleasure my dick felt.

However there was scratchy dried stuff on the metal spigot where the water had corroded the opening of the faucet. My dick must have been growing because it fit tighter and tighter into the tap over a period of time. One day I cut a big scratch on the side of my dick head while inserting it into the faucet.

That was not something to ask my parents to take care of! I got out of the tub and dabbed it with peroxide, then fixed it with some kind of ointment plus a Band-Aid. If you have never tried to keep a bandage around the head of your dick, just imagine how your dick is always shrinking or expanding during the day, and think of the bandaid getting caught up in all those boners and deflations! It was constantly uncomfortable. I gave it up after one day, just wrapping toilet paper around the cut after that. That cured me of putting my dick in the faucet to make it get harder!


Thanks you Author, I was searching for a story to do just that, break the seriousness.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

A Boy's Benchmarks

I have been thinking back on the ages of guys that were my friends or buddies over the years. One in particular seems really strange to me, and makes me worry about myself.

Did anybody else go through a period of liking somebody who was (to be blunt) older, but feeling perfectly at ease with them for a while?

Here is how things have worked for me so far:

Age 10 - my friend who lived in the house behind us was the first guy I did nasty things with.

Age 14 - I learned how to jack off. The same friend was my buddy for a while but he started liking girls.

Age 18 - Graduated from HS (private school, all grades) with few friends and “no” sex partners of my own age. During HS I had "masturbation encounters" only with boys younger than me (boys from school and church who had not yet discovered girls). You see, my best friend during high school was a middle-age elementary teacher at my school, an overweight and effeminate single man. We hung out together a lot but there was no sexual element.

College - tried to make buddies with young teens (as before, the ones who were not quite at the age of discovering heterosexuality). Not comfortable about the age difference and was basically a sexual loner.

Age 20 - Came home for the summer and ran into my friend the old elementary teacher. We hung out together and surprisingly became intimate (I initiated it). We had a relaxed on-and-off relationship for several years whenever I would come back to town, despite the fact that he was getting into his late fifties.

Age 22 - Discovered "cruising" at public restrooms. I tricked with the youngest guys possible - nobody my own age or beyond.

Age 30 - Deeply resented old men who showed up at the places where I cruised.

Age 35 - the old elementary teacher died, in his sixties by then. When I went to his funeral and looked at him in the coffin, I was totally nauseated about having messed with an old troll - despite the fact that we had been very good friends.

Was something wrong with me for having an old man as my partner for several years when I was young? Why does the thought of getting old freak me out so bad?

They call me "X"

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Painful Discoveries -Repost from Early OOTS

I believe our lives are shaped by our experiences and the interactions
with others involved. Our character, morals and even our sense of humor is very much molded by our parents. So then in our formatives years, it is quite possible that our views towards life’s precious gift of sexuality is based on what we are led to understand by our parents and their own set of values on the topic.

Author’s Note
This is something in my life, which I have only told one other person about. Please bear with me; I'm not sure if it will draw great interest, but it's important for me to share with others. This forum provides the anonymity that makes me feel comfortable to share it.

I'm now in my 50's, but for a long time now, I've realized that in some way, I was emotionally and sexually abused by my mother. I'll share the effects
(or what I think were the effects) after I tell you my story.

Out of the Shadows: “Maybe My Darkest Secret”

When I was 4 years old my mom caught me and my “same-age” cousin in a downstairs closet. We both hand our pants down and we were touching each other's private parts. She immediately made us come out and sent my cousin home. As soon as he left my mom got out 'the belt' and chased me upstairs as I was screaming and crying and crawled under my bed. All the time she was yelling at me telling me what a terrible little boy I was. She then grabbed me by the foot, pulled me out from under my bed, and gave me a whipping I will never forget. She then left me there, shaking, trembling, crying, and terrified. I crawled back under my bed and stayed there for the rest of the day and all night long. The next morning she demanded I tell her how sorry I was for what I had done and promise her that I would NEVER do that again.

Now, fast-forward to age 7.
Me and the girl from across the street (age 6) were playing 'house'. Actually, it was her idea that our 'house' had a bathroom and asked me if I needed to pee. I told her I did but I did not want her to watch, so she didn't. Then she peed, and I didn't watch either. Later, she must have told her mother what we did, and her mom told my mom. This time I remember my mom yelling at me and telling me I was a “SICK LITTLE BOY”, and she could never trust me, and that she wasn't sure if she could even love me anymore. I was seven years old and I have never been so terrified as I was at that moment. Then my mom totally did not even speak to me for three days! I couldn't eat without throwing up I was so upset. My own Mommie didn't love me anymore, and it was my fault because I apparently did a very terrible thing!

But then she even made it worse. I was 7, and a little Catholic boy. This was just about a week before my First Communion and my first confession. My mom told me I had to confess it to the priest! "Pleeeeeeze Mommie!!!  Nooooooo!!!!!! Pleeeeeze!!!!!! Don't make me do that!!!!!!" I still remember, after not speaking to me for three days, what I now had to do to make it up to her. Somehow, I negotiated it down to being able to tell the priest, in my very first confession, that I had "done something bad and that I was never going to do it again."

Now let's jump to puberty, my teenage years, and girls.
 I was an absolute total wreck around girls. Always. I was absolutely petrified to touch them (as in holding hands, hugging, anything). This was a thousand times worse that what I think most boys go through at this age with girls. And my mom would always give me warnings about "the kind of boy" I was. So, as a 13 year old filled with hormones, I masturbated several times a day and was disgusted by the dirty thoughts I was having about girls because of the kind of "person" I was.

Authors Closing Notes
I spent those years feeling ashamed, guilty, perverted, and consequently, I missed a lot of great years where I could have developed some nice teenage relationships with girls.

You're probably thinking that I turned out to be a rapist, child molester, or whatever. Thankfully, I did not. I've been happily married for 32 years to the girl I lost my virginity to. My “One-and-only”. (She lost hers to me too).

 Until this moment, my wife was the only other person who knows what I went through.  She helped me a lot, even though I don't think my mom ever accepted her. (My mom died when I was 26, so she's been gone a long time, and I've healed for the most part. But the scars will always be there.)

 It wasn't until just a few years ago that I've come to look on this as having been abused. And even though she didn't do anything physical to me, I do believe it prevented me from developing sexually with girls in a normal healthy way in my early to mid teens. So I believe that she did sexually abuse me. To this day I'm still extremely uncomfortable giving a friendly hug or a kiss to any female other than my wife. In fact, when my wife and I were dating she wondered at first what was wrong with me because I did not want to kiss her. It was hard enough for me to just sit next to her and hug her. Finally, after about a month, she insisted that I kiss her. That's how bad it was for me.

Author’s Name withheld by request.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Snow Writing from a Fan

Okay It is completely irresponsible to post this, but we should have some fun sometimes!!

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Writing in the Snow

(You might want a new story, Eric. The snowstorms brought this incident to mind. Like the other guy's Valet tale, it's a story about a way to find out whether a pal is interested in........ private things.)

For a while we lived in St. Paul, Minnesota, a place where there's plenty of winter and tons of snow to spare. Another 14 year old neighbor and I were horsing around outdoors one winter day when the other guy said he needed to piss. Then he added, "Did you ever write your name in the snow?"

I learned that boys up North piss in the snow all the time, but it was a new experience for a Southern kid like me.

As soon as I realized that I might get a look at his peter I was 100% in favor of pissing in the snow. We slogged around and went behind a large bush where we got our cold little shriveled-up peters out. That was a challenge in itself because we wore gloves and several layers of clothes in the deep snow.

As soon as our peters were exposed we pissed, sending up little vapor trails of steam as the warm pee drilled holes in the snow. We both tried to write our names in the snow using our piss, but quickly ran out of ammunition and ended with a few lingering drops making their last few holes in the snow. I eyed my friend's asset while I had the chance. I was sure he was checking me, too.

Day after day trying to write our names in the snow became one of our favorite games. We scored ourselves based on how many letters we could write, and laughed like girls when our piss sprayed off in the wrong direction. My friend's name was two letters longer than mine so he claimed I had an unfair advantage. It made him mad that I was better at the game than he was. Then he came up with an idea. He would write my name and I would write his. We did that a few times, which evened the score in his mind.

Meanwhile we were happily exposing our penises to each other time after time while we turned a pile of white snow into a piss-riddled mess.

What happened next was a major advance in our friendship. We dared ourselves to hold the other guy's peter and write one of the names. Yes, touch the other guy on his penis! It was at this point that my heart began thumping. Was this really happening? I could feel myself already getting a boner.

My friend took hold of my dick with ice-cold fingers. It should have pulled back into my zipper like a turtle's neck into its shell - but the blood was already circulating inside the tissues, expanding the cold organ. I was scared he would be offended by me getting a boner, afraid I would lose a friend. Instead, he felt of my rising stiffie and said "Well YOU'RE getting thawed out!" With his fingers holding my half-hard peter, I tried to piss. It was a very strange feeling.

When it was my turn to try using my friend's "pen and ink," he was absolutely stiff and sticking straight out before I ever touched him. The second I put my fingers on his erection he jumped and said "I didn't think you would really do it!"

Neither one of us did much of a job of writing names using each others hard dicks. After all, it's hard to piss when you've got a bone going. Instead we sort of automatically started wiggling our fingers on those stiff dicks and giving each other the eye to see whether that kind of thing would be acceptable. Soon we took charge of our own dicks, pumping ourselves toward climaxes, engrossed in the process of masturbating together, our breath steaming out of our mouths, our eyes darting back and forth between the other guy's dick and his eyes. Before long we told each other we were cumming and sent blobs of ejaculate into the snow behind our favorite bush. For me it was one of those memorable climaxes that you don't often have.

My friend's suggestion that we write our names in the snow was what got us started, but once we became "that kind" of friends I guarantee we found warm, indoor places for our mutual wanking.

This winter, with all the snow around the country, I've wondered how many boys and their friends are pissing their names into the snow as a way of finding out whether they are destined to become very special companions.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Valet Game

Did anybody else ever play "valet" with another boy? The game was introduced to me by a boy that I spent a couple of nights with. His mother worked with my mother and I stayed with them while my mother was out of town.
He asked me if I wanted to play a funny game called valet, and told me that a valet was a person who got out a king's clothes and dressed him. I knew that. But I never heard of "playing valet." We were getting ready to take our showers and he offered to be my valet first, to show me how it worked.
So I stood still while he undressed me. He stopped short of removing my underwear, which was something I had been wondering about. Then after my shower he put clean clothes on me. I did the same for him. As I unzipped his pants he told me it tickled. Then he scratched his crotch (underwear still on).
We dressed and undressed each other several times during the evening, coming up with various pretend reasons for why we had to change clothes.. As we got used to doing it, he would seem to have trouble getting my pants on or off and would slightly touch my package, saying "Oops" or "Excuse me." Before long we both had erections in our skivvies. As I was removing his pants for the umpteenth time he said "If we're gonna do this, we ought to do the whole thing." And so I carefully pulled down his underwear also, working around his stiffie without actually touching anything. Then he got my shorts off and we were both standing and looking at each other's hard-ons without saying anything, a little embarrassed, maybe kind of feeling that we had crossed a line that we shouldn't have.
But right away he got over his hesitation and told me "Your valet will take care of this for you, if you wish, sir," and reached over to touch my erection with his fingers. He gave me a good tickle and touch job. I was 13. Nobody had ever touched me there before, but it felt good. He played with everything for a minute and then it was my turn to play with him. Then we were feeling each other at the same time, tickling our little ball sacks, wiggling our stiffies, and getting real horny.
We did not perform the obvious next step (masturbation) until after we got in bed and had the lights off. I was pretending to try to go to sleep, but my erection was keeping me awake. He reached over and located my hard dick and said "We've got to do something about this," and started pumping me. After a few strokes he said "We could both be each other's valets at the same time," meaning he wanted me to jack him. As he got close to climaxing he kept whispering to me, "It's gonna happen! The you-know-what is gonna come!" It didn't take but a minute or two of pumping until we climaxed like little volcanoes and ejaculated all over each other and had to get out of bed and clean up the mess.
The second night we already had boners and began jacking one another as soon as we started the valet game. Later we woke up in the night and treated each other to another wank under the covers.
He was my first partner, but I never saw him again after that one time. Also, I have never heard of anybody else playing Valet?

Thunder Cloud

Wow thanks for this TC,  I remember Doctor, and how fun it was to touch someone else, this one really goes to "11"!! What a fun read TC!! 
I too am interested if anyone remembers this game or a similar one from that age.

Monday, February 3, 2014

The Paper Trail

Concerning tissues or toilet paper sticking to your penis due to sticky cum, here's something that still makes me laugh over 20 years later: 

Some kid in gym class started changing and when he slid his boxers down he had scraps of paper stuck around the head of his dick. This was ninth grade, not little guys just starting to wank. Some other guys saw the paper and of course immediately pointed it out. They laughed so much that the whole class knew. 

That was a major lesson to me. I made damn sure to check my dick for paper and pull every bit of it off after masturbating. It was also strange in a wierd way because now I knew the other boy jacked off. They really humiliated that kid. I guess I should have felt sorry for him but I was just fourteen and at that age, we didn't think about his feelings.