Sunday, August 24, 2014

Playing Doctor with a Buddy

Many of the stories here are about boys starting off by playing with their little friend’s dick.

Maybe me and my friend were sort of strange, we didn’t show our dicks. We got started as kids by showing each other our butt, not our dicks. Going back to when we were around third or fourth grade we started playing doctor by spreading our cracks and letting the other guy see our anus. Then a little more brave, using something to tickle the other guy’s hole. (A paint brush did a good job.) I guess we felt like our butts were funny whereas our dicks were just for piss. When pulling down our pants to bare our asses, we kept our dicks hid. I don’t think we even tried to look at the other guy’s peter.

There was a storeroom behind his garage. We had found things out there to tickle our bums with, and even to stick into the other guy’s rear end a little way. One of us got on his knees and put his arms and head on the floor with his ass up in the air to be doctored. One thing we used was the eraser end of a pencil because we figured it was a safe thing to stick in. It gave me real funky feelings if my buddy wiggled it while it was in my butt.

That was how I first noticed my dick getting hard when I was around eleven. When we played doctor and my pal stuck something into my rear end I would feel my dick getting longer and feeling stiff. I was real conscious of it but I kept it hidden. I liked “doctor” even more after that and we kept doing it when we were really too old. We would do it to each other for a while and then I went around for what seemed like a long time very much aware that I had a real solid boner in my pants (didn’t have a name for it though). When it was hard I would walk around and bump the front of my pants against things on purpose. We had a big tree in our back yard. I would climb up and stand on some branches and bump or rub my boner against the trunk. This was a couple years before getting my first cum. I liked getting a hard-on in my pants as a result of my friend tickling my butt. The stiff feeling gave me a kind of strange satisfaction.


This story might have unique message catching a few of our readers off-guard. I believe most guys go through a period of anal intrigue. At least in a sense of self exploration, or perhaps a few as these two did.


Sunday, August 17, 2014

Tutoring Akram


Our school had a volunteer tutoring program that my counselor recommended me for. One kid that I worked with stands out in my mind. He was an undersized seventh-grader, a small dark-skinned boy from India who was extremely polite to me as if I was a teacher. He was a smart little dude but needed help with long division.

The tutoring sessions took place in the middle-school cafeteria where teams of high school tutors and middle-school kids were scattered around the lunch tables. I quickly noticed something pretty obvious about Akram. He could not keep his hand off of his crotch. We sat side-by-side on the bench. While I was explaining problems to him, he kept a hand tightly wrapped around his package. I would explain a problem and jot figures down, and he would be busy squeezing or digging at his crotch while looking at my figures. Sometimes his knees would rapidly swing open and closed while he gripped himself. Or one leg would jiggle up and down. To give him credit, he paid attention to what we were doing, but at the same time, any guy could tell he was preoccupied with something else.

It was hard to keep my mind on math because Akram was so busy adjusting himself. He was right-handed and kept that hand on top of the table to do problems in the workbook. His left hand enclosed the private organs, fingers jammed down under his balls. When Akram stood up after our session I would sometimes catch sight of a small but well-defined diagonal ridge in the front of his jeans.

To keep you from wondering, I did not get fresh with the boy. However, he had a definite effect on me when I unloaded my ammunition every night.

Akram delivered a surprise once. He arrived for his tutoring session with “evidence” on his clothes, a half-inch circle of dried gray stuff. It was perfectly obvious on the leg of his jeans, located about halfway between his crotch and his knee. He was more concerned about
the spot than about squeezing his junk that day. He kept rubbing the stain, dabbing a little saliva on it from time to time and scratching at it with a fingernail.

The blot on his pants gave me the answer to something I’d been wondering. Apparently little Akram, knew how to take care of his situation. I couldn’t help hoping for his sake that he had a special friend and that the two of them had reached relief together.

I looked forward to my sessions with Akram more than with any of the other kids. I never made a false move while working with him, but I still remember him sitting next to me with his hand jammed in his crotch, forever squeezing himself.


Wednesday, August 13, 2014

I didn't know that was gonna happen!

A readers reply to It takes a Lotta Boys

 I was remembering something that happened with me and one of my friends, and I want to ask a question. Were you ever with a kid at the very time he shot his first load? What did he do? How did he act. Scared or happy or what?

When I was 13 and was telling my friend (10 months younger than me) about this really great feeling I discovered. We went down to my basement and I pulled down my pants and let him watch me masturbate and squirt. I tried to get him to try it but he refused. It was several days later, he asked me to rub his cock and show him how to do it. We were standing facing each other, with our shorts and underpants pulled down to our ankles (it was summertime). After a while with me stroking him, and without him saying anything or showing any special expression, I felt my bare leg get wet. He was squirting cum on me! I asked him why he didn't tell me he was gonna cum! He said to me, quite logically and somewhat embarrassed about what had just happened, "I didn't know that was gonna happen! You didn't tell me you couldn't make it stop!"

He was a lot more embarrassed than upset. He still thought he had pissed on me, but I showed him what it was on my leg and then he realized that was not piss that squirted out of him. It was very different. And it was his very first time that stuff ever came out of him, and it was also his very first orgasm.

(When we pulled our pants back up I got surprised to feel wetness against my balls from inside my underpants. Some of his jiz had landed in my underpants too. I had to walk around the rest of the day with the weird feeling of damp underpants against my balls.)


Friday, August 8, 2014

The Library Aide

This is the story of how another guy finally got my attention when I was too naïve to realize what we had in common.

In the tenth grade I did a research assignment that required a lot of library time. For two or three weeks I went to the reference department of the city library almost every day after school to take notes and make photocopies. I had to sign in and enter a separate restricted room where the local history files were kept.

I was usually the only visitor in the room. Whenever I finished with one file and needed another one, I pushed a button by one of the doors. A library aide would respond to help me.

The aide was a kid himself, a senior at a different school and therefore a couple of years older than I was. Often he was the only person I would see once I got past the main desk.

On my first day, Dale helped me get familiar with the files. After he showed me around that part of the library he told me something like this: "Let me know if you need to use the restroom. We have a little private restroom back there that's a lot more convenient than going out to the one in the lobby."

You are already reading "overtones" into that offer. But I was such an innocent, dumb nerd at the age of 15 that his words meant nothing more to me than a helpful statement. Yes, I was a daily masturbator who thoroughly enjoyed the delight of every good climax. I also had a couple of friends that sometimes shared that pleasure with me. But I'd already been buddies with those friends before discovering the joy of ejaculation, so our sexual experiences were an extension of friendships that already existed. The possibility of having a sexual experience with somebody I didn't already know had never entered my mind, nor had the concept of public restroom encounters. What you're thinking skimmed right past me without making an impression.

But apparently I had made an impression on Dale. Dale must have recognized something in me that I didn't yet know about myself. During every visit to the library he would remind me of the private restroom. It became a mental game with me: How long would I be there until Dale offered to take me to the restroom?

 One time he was standing close to me while I leafed through a book. I realized that he had bent his knees slightly so that his fly was at the same level as the table top, and he was rubbing the front of his pants back and forth on the corner of the table. There was no question that he was rubbing his dick, but I attributed it to nothing more than an unconscious act on his part.

Other things happened. We were talking about something and I noticed him moving his fingers back and forth in a certain spot. I wondered the rest of the afternoon whether I'd seen a bulge under his fingers, or if my mind was playing a trick on me.

I was intrigued by what I considered Dale's unconscious touching of himself. I began watching him more closely. The day I really picked up that he was having erections, he was holding a book in his hands and using it to constantly bump and rub his zipper. Dumb though I was, it was clear that the aide thought we were good enough friends that he didn't care if I noticed when he got hard. However, I still did not understand that he was delivering me an engraved invitation. His erections and his attention to his boner did make me horny, but I kept that to myself. I would leave the library with a hard dick in my pants thanks to Dale, looking forward to shooting my load at home.

On typical afternoons my mother picked me up from the library. As we rode home my mind was not on my assignment, but on Dale dealing with his obviously stiff dick in my presence. I would be erect in my pants but unable to touch myself while riding in the car with my mother. As soon as we hit the house I would go to the bathroom and have a jacking session on the toilet while I thought about Dale.

This had gone on for days when Dale brought up the private restroom again, saying "I ought to show you where that restroom is, just in case you ever need it." The thought went through my head that if I let him show me where it was, he'd quit mentioning it.

So I said okay. He led me through a back corridor and up to the door of a small men's room with one stall, one urinal and one lavatory. I thought, "Great. Now I know where it is. I can get back to work." But Dale was holding the door open for me to enter.

I wish I had been paying more attention to Dale at that moment. I'd bet anything that he was about to hyperventilate now that he'd gotten me that far.

Dale said, "Do you want the stall or the pisser?" Of course I didn't give a damn. I still had not connected his boners with the fact that we were now entering a private restroom with a locking door.

I ended up at the urinal, figuring I might as well piss since we were there. Dale went into the stall and I suppose he stood in front of the toilet. Soon he began soft sound effects, just barely whispering: "Ooh. Ooh." He paused a few seconds and then continued whispering: "Oh, man!" And then "Hard, hard, god it's hard!"

At that moment I knew without a doubt that Dale was either jacking off or was playing with his stiff dick. There was a brief silence while I entertained a thought that was absolutely foreign to me: I wondered whether there was any way I could get a look at what Dale was doing. My dick sprang forcefully to attention.

Then came his voice: "Are you doing okay out there?"

Now that I'd realized what Dale was doing, I couldn't stop wiggling and squeezing my boner.

"Yeah," I answered.

"If you want to come in here with me, it's okay. The door's not locked."

I had begun to stroke my straining erection and I wasn't about to stop jacking off to go join Dale. What's more, I didn't think it would be polite to enter Dale's stall knowing what he was doing. So I said the first thing that came to mind: "I'm busy out here."

"Oh," he answered. "Busy? Maybe I should come out there?"

That's when I first grasped what was in Dale's mind. Either I could go into the stall with him, or he could come out and stand at the urinal with me. He was giving me a choice, but no matter which answer I chose, the result would be the same: we would be erect and horny side-by-side with our dicks exposed in front of each other.

Dale then spoke a line that I've never heard anybody else use: "Listen, I'm gonna make a lot of it. You won't believe how much I'm gonna make. You've gotta see how much it's gonna be! Come on and watch."

When I didn't answer he went on: "I'll hold the door open."

I thought maybe I could just tiptoe over to the stall and take a quick peek, maybe without Dale knowing that I was looking. I moved quietly and slowly. But Dale was watching.

"Come on quick," he told me. "It won't be long."

Dale was standing sideways in the stall, his back holding the open door against the wall. His moving hand and fully expanded dick were directly in my line of vision.

"Let me check you," he whispered, reaching toward me.

The library aide felt my dick, squeezed my balls and gave me several strokes. Then he said "You can have a feel if you want to. Go ahead."

He quit stroking and turned slightly in my direction. It seemed only polite to give him a grope in return for him feeling me.

I had barely touched him when he said "Wow, you're good! A little more. You're wonderful!" Then he resumed slowly masturbating, telling me "Okay, watch. Watch now! Now!"

And while I watched and jacked, Dale stiffened, gasped, and fired a series of thick knots of cum that hit the opposite partition, expanding and running in slow trails down the wall. He caught his breath and whispered "Good one, good one!"

I hurried back to the urinal and climaxed in a spray of my own ejaculate.

"Did you do it too?" he wanted to know.


"Good for you, stud."

The experience made me so incredibly horny that I pumped out three additional loads before the next morning, making four climaxes in twenty-four hours, which still stands as my all-time record.

My project took me back to the library only a few more times. As soon as Dale would see me he would quietly ask "Now or later?"

I always picked "Now," knowing that I would be stiff and horny and unable to concentrate if I put it off.

Several weeks after I'd finished the project I went to the library again for only one purpose, to have a nice mutual wank with Dale. It was the first time in my life that I planned a sexual event in advance, and I was horny all day thinking about what I was going to do.

Monday, August 4, 2014

There's no Crying in Wanking

I was remembering something that happened with me and one of my friends, and I want to ask a question. Were you ever with a kid at the very time he shot his first load? What did he do? How did he act. Scared or happy or what?

I was playing with this guy I knew. We did some dirty stuff together before this. But I found out how to pump my peter before he did. I didn't tell him about that. We played with our dicks together in his attic all the time. If I felt like I might come I stopped playing and waited until I could go in the bathroom and jack one out by myself. This one time, while playing with him, he said he was getting sick and I thought, what if he is about to come. He was holding onto his stiffie and the stuff came out. He starts crying and was very scared. I felt bad for him. I showed him that I could do it too. It took a while before he would play like that again but then he got okay about what his dick would do.


Saturday, August 2, 2014

It Takes a Lotta Boys

When I was in 8th grade, in science lab we were using glycerin in one experiment. We had a 500ml bottle of laboratory-grade glycerin on our bench (about a pint bottle, for anyone not comfortable with metrics) and this one boy working next to me dipped his fingers into the bottle, then nudged me to look at him. He let the clear, gooey glycerin drip off of his fingers and said to me, "It musta taken a lot of boys a long time to fill that bottle!"
At first, I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Then, all of a sudden it came to me! It looked exactly like CUM would look, dripping off his hand right after a jerk-off! My next realization was, "He must be jerking off too, just like me!" (Masturbation was something when I was a young teen you never talked about, and never-ever admitted to doing. I assumed I was one of a very few boys who couldn't help themselves and actually ever did that dirty sinful thing.)

He happened to also be in my Boy Scout troop, and shortly after that discovery I asked him if he wanted to tent together on the next camp-out. He agreed, and we shared a tent on our very next camp-out.
I was so horny, pretty well believing that this boy probably also liked to jerk off at least occasionally. We were lying in our tent that first night, it was dark, and I brought up what he had said in lab. I told him at first I didn't know what he was talking about, but then when I saw it dripping off of his fingers, "You were thinking it looked like, know,... that stuff that comes out of your dick when you, like,... rub it?"
He responded, "Yup. Exactly."

"So I, uh, guess you do that too, huh?"

"Yeah. Once in a while."

{long silent pause.... just thinking about that I started getting a major hard-on...}

"I do too...Sometimes...Not too often though."

I decided to risk it all, and I popped the question...

I whispered to him so nobody in any other tent could possibly hear me, "You it? Like, our tent?"

"I guess so...Do you?"

"Yeah. Kinda, I guess..."

We both pulled open our sleeping bags and pulled down our underpants just far enough to see each other's boners pop out in the dim moonlight. I remember he had a really nice bush too.  I swear I almost came as soon as I first saw his erect dick!

We quietly jerked ourselves off together. I remember he got close first, and whispered to me that simple classic, "I'm gonna cum..."

I looked over and watched him squirt several spurts of a nice load of goo all over himself. I then started wanking myself super-fast, and I also came within seconds. He looked at me and giggled and said, "You made a big mess!" I said to him, "You did too!"

We became very good friends after that weekend, and secret jerk-off buddies too. We enjoyed a few more camping trips together, plus sleepovers. Our relationship lasted well into 9th grade, when it was staring to become apparent to me that far fewer boys seemed interested in doing these things together anymore, and considered this something that only "fags and queers" did together.