Monday, March 31, 2014

Pinched By the Curlies

This is a follow-up to the ‘Spots on Sheets’ disclosure that some may find interesting. The way I had discovered to pleasure myself before going to sleep at night was to pull my underwear down and lie on my belly on the sheets. I would then move my hips from side to side, rolling my penis as I did so. This worked fine. I had no concept of thrusting back and forth, I had never thought of the fact that my penis might be inserted into something else. This method worked fine until I started growing hair down there. When the hair got to a certain length, it would get wound up on my penis with this rolling side to side motion and get pulled and cause pain. I was thus forced to change my motion, resulting in a more normal fore and aft method. I can’t remember the timing, whether the spots or the hair came first. 

Friday, March 28, 2014

A Good Soaping-off

 I saw back in the older stories how some guys told about early experiences that seemed to predict their later sexual preferences. Maybe this was one of those experiences.

 I was about 12 when my mother and my aunt went off somewhere and left me in charge of my little cousin. He was in primary school but I don't know what grade or how old.

 There had been a lot of rain and everything outside was muddy. We were playing in the mud out front and another boy joined us. He was the bad little boy of the neighborhood, mean to other kids. I wished he would go away because there was always trouble when he showed up.

 While we were playing he grabbed my cousin's pants by the waist and put a couple of big handfuls of mud inside. Then he ran away. My cousin started crying.

 I must have had a mature streak somewhere in me because I knew I had to clean him up and help him stop crying. We headed for the house. I had him stop on the porch and take off all his clothes. Then I took him to the bathroom and started a warm bath. I got in the water with him and soaped him up for a real good bath. I had already begun doing this when it hit me that that I was going to have to touch his naked privates. The area that mud was most applied to. I washed the rest of him first. Finally it was time to soap up his penis and testicles. I had him get up on his knees in the water so I could wash his junior junk very kindly and gently, not wanting to further upset him.

  While I soaped his privates, something totally unexpected happened. His dick rose up and stuck out with a definite erection. I was astounded at that development and at my body's own response - I got a boner myself.

 Although he was already squeaky clean, I couldn't help myself - had to soap up his balls and dick again and carefully rub my hand around on his entire crotch area. I cupped his balls in my hand for a good soaping, and ran my soapy fingers along the length of his little stiffie and around its head. I asked him if I was hurting him and he said no. I carefully rinsed him off but then started over and washed his little boner a third time. When I got through he was still on his knees with his stiffie pointing out like he was waiting for more.

 I was not old enough to masturbate, which is probably a good thing. Otherwise I might have gone over the line and involved him in something abusive.

When the ladies got home he told his mother that I gave him a bath because he got muddy. That's all anybody ever said about it, so hopefully he was not traumatized.

 That was the first time I felt an attraction to male organs, and as far as I know it happened before puberty because I did not have an inkling about sperm or masturbation until I got older.

Submitted Anonymous

Three Times-A Good Soaping

I saw back in the older stories how some guys told about early experiences that seemed to predict their later sexual preferences. Maybe this was one of those experiences.

I was about 12 when my mother and my aunt went off somewhere and left me in charge of my little cousin. He was in primary school but I don't know what grade or how old.

There had been a lot of rain and everything outside was muddy. We were playing in the mud out front and another boy joined us. He was the bad little boy of the neighborhood, mean to other kids. I wished he would go away because there was always trouble when he showed up.

While we were playing he grabbed my cousin's pants by the waist and put a couple of big handfuls of mud inside. Then he ran away. My cousin started crying.

I must have had a mature streak somewhere in me because I knew I had to clean him up and help him stop crying. We headed for the house. I had him stop on the porch and take off all his clothes. Then I took him to the bathroom and started a warm bath. I got him in the water and soaped him up for a real good bath. I had already begun doing this when it hit me that that I was going to have to touch his naked privates. I washed the rest of him first. Finally it was time to soap up his penis and testicles. I had him get up on his knees in the water so I could wash his junior junk very kindly and gently, not wanting to further upset him.

While I soaped his privates, something totally unexpected happened. His dick rose up and stuck out with a definite erection. I was astounded at that development and at my body's own response - I got a boner myself.

Although he was already squeaky clean, I couldn't help myself - had to soap up his balls and dick again and carefully rub my hand around on his entire crotch area. I cupped his balls in my hand for a good soaping, and ran my soapy fingers along the length of his little stiffie and around its head. I asked him if I was hurting him and he said no. I carefully rinsed him off but then started over and washed his little boner a third time. When I got through he was still on his knees with his stiffie pointing out like he was waiting for more.

I was not old enough to masturbate, which is probably a good thing. Otherwise I might have gone over the line and involved him in something abusive.

When the ladies got home he told his mother that I gave him a bath because he got muddy. That's all anybody ever said about it, so hopefully he was not traumatized.

That was the first time I felt an attraction to male organs, and as far as I know it happened before puberty because I did not have an inkling about sperm or masturbation until I got older.

Submitted Anonymous

Spots on the Sheets

I am sure not everyone has the same first-time experience described here, though that does
 sound like a neat but scary experience. For me it was different. I had apparently been having dry orgasms for some time by rubbing against my bed sheets every night before going to sleep. I knew nothing about what was happening so I did not expect an ejaculation of anything. My first clue of this was when my mother one day made a remark about spots appearing on my bed sheets. I quickly went to look and sure enough, there they were, right where I was rubbing every night. I had no idea of why it was happening but I made sure no more spots showed up for her to see, by putting something else there for them to get on that I could then hide. I guess it was sometime after that before I learned to do it "by hand". 

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

The Logic behind Shacking Off

Okay, here it is. It's really just straighforward. I was 14. It was the spring semester of eighth grade. I'd been having relentless erections since sometime in seventh grade. I had also found small deposits of a thick liquid in my underwear a few times when I got up in the mornings. I assumed the liquid was urine that became thick because of having to pee real bad but putting off a trip to the bathroom during the night.

One day after school I was sitting on the toilet at home for the innocent purpose of producing a BM. I was/am an only child, so the door was not closed. (My mother closed the door when she used the bathroom but my father and I did not.) After my BM I stayed on the toilet because my penis was extremely hard and I was messing with it. I think I was trying to get it to become soft, but also I sometimes liked to play with it when it was hard, even though the erections aggravated me.


Still with the bathroom door open, I wrapped my hand around my erection and began repeatedly moving the hand up and down. As far as I can remember, I'd never done that particular thing to it before. After some rapid strokes I got up and closed the door because, although I didn't know anything about what I was doing, I still realized that playing with my penis was not something for my mother to see if she should happen to walk down the hall.

Other people have said the same thing about what happened next: Once I started pumping my erection, I couldn't stop. Oh, yes, I did try to stop. When I felt the unfamiliar sensation of my body preparing to climax, I quit pumping and sat there wondering what was going on. But within a few seconds my hand went to auto-pilot and resumed pumping. At the instant before my climax my body felt uncommonly wierd all over, really scary. I thought "You shouldn't have done this." And then the climax hit me and wiped everything out of my mind. I thought I was blacking out. The sight of my ejaculation flying through the air in various directions got my attention because that stuff had to have come out of my penis, and yet that didn't make any sense.


Then it was over and I was sitting there in a panic, looking at the cum on the bathmat, tub and floor - and holding my penis while I thought WHAT THE HELL just happened - which was out of character because I didn't cuss.

Then I realized it was that mysterious thing other guys had hinted at, only I interpreted their words as "shacking off." I had my own form of logic for explaining the strange phrase "shacking off." I assumed that the pumping procedure was something you did only in the bathroom. Bathrooms used to be outhouses, and outhouses were shacks. Therefore it was "shacking off."


Despite all the fear and fright, I masturbated again just two days later and immediately became an enthusiastic practitioner of that skill. 

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Reader comments - OOTS Addiction

Mr. Moderator, I'm addicted to this site. I drop in a couple times every day even when things seem dull, in hopes something new has been posted. The times that I REALLY enjoy it is when we get a conversation going about some point in a story. Sometimes that happens and sometimes it doesn't. Who knows why!

So here's what I'm posting. This is not a story, just a statement of a topic in hopes that people will respond with comments and personal experiences:

Agree, disagree, or state an opinion: "Your first ejaculation as a surprised boy was the best climax you will ever have." 

Monday, March 17, 2014

We Boys Can Handle This By Ourselves



I think I was similar to you. When I was just starting to wank, around 12 and in sixth grade, I had a huge number of nerf toys and sponge toys left over from being little. I would use them as the object of my sexual arousal, tearing or cutting a hole in them and then cramming my dick into them and screwing them. I knew just enough about sex to know that I was supposed to ram my peter back and forth into a girl. Therefore pumping it by hand was not the right way. I had a large nerf football that I made holes in with a kitchen knife. It was my first sex toy. I would hold it against the wall, plunge my dick into the hole, and pump my pelvis back and forth while the funky feelings got stronger and stronger. Then slow down, just barely moving, and wait for the sudden ejaculation to squirt inside the ball. 
I tried to imagine that the ball was a girl, but the truth was, the thought of inserting my penis into a girl was horrible to me. I had to make new holes in the ball all the time because the old cum was nasty if I used a hole that was still wet. The ball got so gross that I had to throw it away and start a new target. Normal masturbation was much more efficient but at that early stage I felt like I was cheating if I wasn't screwing a substitute for a girl.
 That hang-up lasted for about two years until a friend and I discovered mutual jacking. After that I felt like "To hell with girls, we boys can handle this by ourselves"

Anonymous.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Show Must go On

Author's Note-
 I posted a comment about seventh grade boys not realizing anybody has to clean up their messes. It reminded me of a certain episode when I was that age.


The Show Must go On - (But Pretend NOT to Watch)

I was a techie geek in school, member of the multimedia club. The teachers would assign two of us to go check out whatever equipment they wanted, and then set it up and run it. Usually my partner was an equally-geeky guy my own age. One day, the principal assigned a ninth grade boy and me to set up the microphones for an assembly in the gym. I had never worked with the older boy, but we both knew what we were doing. We quickly got the PA system and all the mics and speakers in place well before the assembly began.

The older boy told me he had to go to the bathroom and asked me to come along to a restroom that I'd never been in before. It was small, containing only a commode and sink. No urinal, no stall. It was meant for only one person at a time, but the other guy waved me in and told me to make sure the door was locked.

He immediately began unfastening his belt, saying to make sure again that the door was locked. He said he had to get his pants down in a hurry. I guessed he was going to dump a load. He lowered his butt onto the seat while still dropping his pants.

As his boxers went down below his crotch, I was astonished - I found myself looking right at his obviously hard dick sticking way up into the air. That embarrassed me and I looked away. Meanwhile the ninth grader was saying "Oh, it's so hard! I had to get it out."

He was leaning forward and his head was bent down so that he was looking at the floor while sitting on the pot, not at me. With his right hand he touched his boner a few times and then began slowly stroking himself. He kept mentioning that it was hard and that he had to do this, still not looking at me.

This was my first encounter with another guy. I was freaked about what was happening, but at the same time my little weenie had grown real stiff and I was trying to figure out whether he expected me to do the same thing he was doing, or just stand there trying to pretend everything was cool.

Throughout his entire masturbation he never lifted his head to look at me, almost like I was not there. I could clearly see his hand moving back and forth along the length of his stiff dick. Within a couple of minutes he was going faster and making noises. Then he slid back on the seat, pulled his feet under the commode, and attempted to ejaculate into the bowl - still avoiding looking at me. When he came, most of his shot fired past the rim and onto the floor.

"Now you," he told me as he stood up and wiped his dick with toilet paper. I totally surprised myself by taking his place on the seat and pumping my little stiffie in his presence. I felt like it was a real compliment that he was treating me as an equal, not a younger kid.

The dude tried to pretend that he wasn't looking, but I knew he was watching every stroke I took.

After I climaxed and squirted an unusually large load, he said we had to wipe up the mess because the janitors knew exactly what that stuff was. It had never occurred to me that cum would be recognizable to an adult.

Walking back to the gym, he said he hoped we would work together some more. And we did have several more similar encounters, with one difference. After that first one, he wanted me to jack off before he did. One thing stayed the same, though. He always looked at the floor while he masturbated, apparently pretending to both of us that he was completely ignorant of me watching him while he stroked himself.
Anonymous

Multi-Media, What you guys think?

MG and I have been enjoying this vid lately, comparing notes on the interaction between the Uber-Popular Benjamin Lasnier and his best mate Tobias Neergaard. The embedded vid is a YT upload of the boys answering fan-mail questions. We both noticed how kind they are to each other, and a certain degree of infatuation sneaks in very subtle-like by Tobias. Pay attention to 5:17, 5:28, 6:47 and especially 6:57.
I think their relationship is reminiscent of what many teen guys go through where it becomes very comfortable to show a slight bit of affection to their best buddy.
I relish how their hugs candidly displayed on-screen, are a clear sign that they find a high degree of trust and companionship in each other. Generally they are very straight acting in this (decrying "No Homo" a number of times too), so I am not suggesting anything out of the ordinary, only that they are a cute pair of friends.
-E-

Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Best Seat on the Bus

As a college job I drove school buses for the local public schools for three years. Besides driving and keeping an eye on the kids, drivers had to sweep out the bus at the end of the day, gather up the lost and found stuff, and clean up messes, such as a child barfing in the bus. It was not an upscale job.

One year I had a rural route serving kids out in the boonies. In doing my afternoon clean-up, from time to time I found drops and trails of a pearly, viscous substance on the floor between seats. Sometimes it remained where it had been shot; other times somebody stepped in it and tracked it out into the center aisle. It was obviously cum.

I immediately knew I had a wanker on board and of course was interested in identifying him. I began closely watching the boys on the route, determined to find out which of them was my phantom masturbator.

The route included children ranging from kindergarten through high school. My prime suspects at first were the older teen boys. But I was wrong.

After each afternoon stop there were fewer and fewer kids on the bus. I soon pegged my masturbating boy as the next-to-the-last kid to exit, the one who rode almost to the end of the route. The little girl who stayed until the final stop sat up front right behind me. My horny dude always remained about three-quarters of the way toward the back of the bus by himself. On the days that I would find a spray of ejaculate in the bus, it was always on the floor in front of the seat where that particular boy sat.

I started watching him as much as I could in the big convex mirror that showed me the interior of my bus. I could not see his lap, but I knew without a doubt that he was my jacker. He was fair-skinned, thin, and blessed with intensely black hair. On the days that the little dude jacked off, his eyes were tilted downward so he could look at his hand and his dick. On the non-jacking days he just stared out the window.

A few times I tried messing with his mind. When I figured he was right in the middle of stroking up and down on his stiff little boner I would call to him and invite him to come sit on the front seat so we could talk. He would gather his stuff (and zip his fly, of course) and come down the aisle, sometimes with a clearly visible boner in his pants. I learned that he was in seventh grade. I could sometimes catch a glimpse of him rearrangiing his half-jacked stiffie while he sat in the front seat.

Once I asked him as he boarded the bus, "Hey, Jeff, want to sit up front today?" He sat in one of the front seats, but in the confusion of kids getting off at each stop, he moved to his regular seat. Obviously he wanted to be in position to jack himself as soon as the bus was nearly empty.

While the school year went on my wanking passenger seemed to become more and more horny. Unless I invited him to come up front and talk to me, he ejaculated a load onto the floor every single day. Sometimes his aim would be a little careless and there would also be cum on the back of the seat ahead of him.

While driving the gravel roads to his mailbox and simultaneously keeping an eye on my big mirror, I watched him masturbate day after day. Even though the "action" was hidden from sight, I knew exactly what he was doing. I pinpointed the moment at which my climaxing little seventh-grader slid forward to aim his stiff peter toward the floor.

He delivered a beautiful rain of cum that always gave me a private kick when I mopped it up half an hour after it sprayed out of his erect little stiffie. As soon as I got the bus parked I would walk back to Jeff's seat and admire his work.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Puberty- The Corruption of a Scholar

During those young teen years, our male bodies begin demanding from us regular opportunities to release semen. I honestly think that is one of the big unspoken reasons why we see many boys who are very good students in grade school all of a sudden become "C" students in middle school. I remember by 8th and 9th grade I had a tremendous new difficulty concentrating on my homework, because I was so goddamn HORNY all the time!! I'd TRY to concentrate, especially if I had a lot of reading to do, but before long I'd be getting an unwanted erection, and that would be it. I'd try to concentrate on my reading but I just couldn't. My mind kept screaming, "You need to jerk off! You need to jerk off!" Up until early 8th grade, I never had that problem concentrating. I could sit down and complete my homework without any of this new and truly annoying distraction going on in my head and in my genitals.

Then, I'd often succumb, get up from my desk and get on my bed, pull down my pants and jerk the damn thing off. And after I would cum, I'd then get all relaxed and sleepy!! Then I STILL couldn't concentrate on my homework! I was now too tired!

I wish that back then somebody had actually explained all of this to me. My dad, a teacher, whomever. I thought it was just me who had this incessant NEED to masturbate so often, and as much as I tried to fight it, those feelings seemed to dominate my daily life in ways that I wished they did not.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Looking But NOT Touching

I was around 15 when I learned that secretly watching another aroused guy would get me mega hard and trigger an ejaculation despite the fact that we did not physically connect.

I was watching TV with a younger friend, a kid that was still a "little" boy in my mind, although events would prove that he was not as "little" as I thought. It was winter and we were fully dressed as well as each covered with a blanket, me laying on one couch and him on the other one.

Just out of the corner of my eye I saw him put one hand inside his blanket and feel around where his dick was, maybe just scratching it or getting it in a more comfortable position. Then he brought his hand out and laid it on top of the blanket, right where his dick must be.

As we kept watching TV he continually mashed and rubbed that spot, sometimes using both hands. This was kind of a magical thing to me because it made me get hard and caught my full attention. I'd had only a couple of experiences with other boys, so this was a big deal, just realizing he must be hard. I wanted to watch what he was doing but did not want to move a muscle. My thinking was that if he didn't know I was watching him, he would continue rubbing himself and I would continue getting a good boner.

So I forced myself not to move, not to touch myself, not to let him know that anything was going on with me.
After a few minutes he put one hand back inside the blanket, and then the other one. With both of his hands now under the blanket I watched some bumpy motions that told me he had unzipped his pants and got his dick out through his fly.

For a while not much happened, just some occasional gentle movement above his crotch. He was apprently just feeling of himself, perhaps squeezing or wiggling his stiffie.

Then, almost as if a switch had been turned on in his mind, everything changed. A low mound of blanket suddenly rose above his groin and began to vibrate with the unmistakable rhythm of a pumping hand. I could not believe what I was seeing. I decided he must be so inexperienced at masturbation that he didn't know he was revealing what he was doing. My boner was now painfully hard but I kept absolutely still.

He was clearly so focused on jacking off that he had tuned out everything else and become completely unaware that I was in the room. The blanket would lift up and he would make it shake. He would spend a few seconds jacking, then stop for a moment. The blanket would collapse for a little while. Then it would rise again and he would resume stroking his stiffie and making the blanket shake.

Finally reached a point where he held the blanket higher than before and pumped himself more vigorously than he'd been doing, his hand now hitting the blanket with each stroke as his masturbation gathered momentum and he rounded the final stretch.

I was amazed, hypnotized, astounded - any way you want to say it - that he was jacking off a few feet away from me. As I watched him speed up and shift his jacking into high gear, my unbelievably hard erection fired, sending a gush of warm cum into my boxers and onto my skin. I hated my dick for ejaculating because I'd decided to go to the bathroom and have a nice session of my own as soon as I got to watch my young friend pump himself to his climax. But my dick had already fired its ammunition before the kid was finished.

He was now shaking the entire blanket, pounding toward the finish line. When he came (or perhaps when he had a dry climax) his entire body jerked and a big breath whoosed out of him. Then the mound of blanket descended and he lay there without moving a muscle for several minutes.

Even thought I had already cum, my dick stayed erect for a long time, a sign of how horny the little guy had made me. There was no physical contact, but without ever knowing it he put on a spectacular show that commanded my full attention.


Anonymous

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Misfortune of a Good Boy

This endearing comment comes from a reader in response to The Speakers at Scout Camp
With charming tales like this, I appreciate how kind our readers are, and thankfully wise too.
Eric


Speaking of "good boys," there's a young man in my neighborhood that I've known ever since I moved here when he was about three. I watched him walk to the bus stop when he was in elementary school. Along the way he went through a skater phase and a longhair phase and matured nicely into a polite high school student with a steady girl.

About a year ago he got his driver's license and acquired a pickup truck, an old Ford about 30 years old. I suspect he bought it himself with money he saved. He takes better care of that old truck than anybody with a nice car. He's not a tall kid, and sometimes when I see him driving, he waves at me, and for a moment I think that he's still about twelve - and I ask myself, how can that child be driving at his young age! He takes it easy in the neighborhood and does all the right things such as signaling and watching in every direction.

Well, I headed out yesterday and passed his pickup parked at the curb in front of their house. The left front fender is bashed in. Headlight broken. Bumper bent. Hood warped. Grill all twisted. His pride and joy. I wanted to cry for that kid! I felt like stopping and ringing the bell and giving him a big hug, saying something stupid like "I'm so sorry this has happened to you!"

Then I remembered: "Bachelor" neighbors do not hug 16-year-old boys.

Anonymous