Tuesday, January 27, 2015

The Darkness of Wolf

Me and a couple of close friends did private things together around the time we were freshmen and sophomores. My friends were pretty much like me - same age, interests, etc. Very middle-class and conventional.

But I knew another guy that went by the name of Wolf and was substantially different from me and my buddies. “Wolf” was not his real name. That was part of an act like almost everything about him. Wolf was a goth and a loner and a constant prick at school. The only part of school he cared about was art and drama. He dressed in nothing but black, including a long black overcoat in winter. His hair was dyed black. He
had to keep the hair combed at school but shook it forward to hang over his face the rest of the time. Wolf seldom talked to anybody, just hung around sulking and flashing the finger at everybody.

 It would take an entire story to explain how two people so different found we had somewhat interlocking sexualities. Rather than going through all of that, I’ll start at the point where our relationship had settled into a routine after I found I didn't have to be afraid of him.

For privacy we used a junked bus in an abandoned wrecking yard where there was little chance of being disturbed. The bus was overgrown with vines and bushes.

We would meet at the forsaken junkyard a couple times a week. Wolf was usually there ahead of me, sitting on a rotten seat with his long legs stuck out into the aisle and his hands jammed sullenly into his pockets. When I would get there he always asked a single word: “Safe?”

If we agreed that we were safe, Wolf then began the entertainment that brought us together. He slowly and artfully unfastened his clothing while swaying to unheard music. On our first few encounters his pants remained around his ankles and his unbuttoned shirt hung on his shoulders in case he needed to get dressed in a hurry. But that was too tame for Wolf. He soon began upping the risk by removing every stitch including his black shoes and socks. The only remaining garment when he began his performance was his underwear. The skivvies bulged with evidence of his obviously erect asset which he was preparing to reveal in an artistic exhibition.

Wolf's underwear, unlike the rest of his clothes, were white. Tightie whities on an angry goth - go figure. By the time his outer clothes were neatly folded on a seat, the diagonal and slightly curved ridge of his boner was fully visible in his Fruit of the Looms.

And then Wolf, looking out the window or up at the roof -- but not at me -- began the day’s erotic drama. He touched his bulge with exaggerated motions to dramatize his arousal. He squeezed and adjusted the hidden erection. He fingered his nipples, stroked his chest with his fingertips and undulated his pelvis. Sometimes he pushed his tongue in and out of his lips with a sexual rhythm. He lifted, squeezed and rotated the ball pouch of his briefs. Then, very very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he gradually slid the white underwear down, first exposing the tiniest glimpse of his pee slit and then little by little revealing all of his big hard-on.

When he was fully ready Wolf stepped out of his underwear, folded them, and set them aside.

Now Wolf, completely naked, began masturbating. But not simply jacking off. For him it was an artistic expression as much as a sexual act. As he stroked himself he moved in and out of various positions. He performed acrobatics in the aisle while slowly pumping his boner. Or he perched on the back of a couple of seats in some sort of double-jointed pose, apparently lost in a completely different world while he sensuously handled his hardness. He sometimes stood and pranced back and forth in a dance while provocatively manipulating the stiff cock. Sometimes he simulated coition, pressing his dick against the back of a seat while repeatedly raising and lowering his butt. One time he brought along a length of blue styrofoam pipe insulation and slid his erection back and forth into it while dancing.

Wolf avoided looking at me while he worked on himself, as if my presence was of no interest to him. And yet I know that he calculated his act to make sure I got the best possible view of what he was doing. And he never started anything until I arrived and began watching, never unfastened a single button before he had my attention.

I always joined Wolf in pursuing an ejaculation of my own. But even when I exposed my boner he didn’t look at me. He stared somewhere else while theatrically wanking for my benefit.

Watching Wolf jack off in his dramatic way made me intensely horny, so I guess I would be called a voyeur. That would make Wolf an exhibitionist. Whatever we were, however, we were never buddies in any sense of the word. Even when I was jacking right in his line of sight he didn’t offer to touch me. Nor did he invite me to touch him. Really, he seemed unaware of what I was doing, often closing his eyes while he progressed toward his climax. I was simply the audience. All his energy went into performance and none into relationship.

Wolf prolonged his dramatic masturbation sessions as much as possible. Despite seeming to ignore me, he always made sure he had my full attention at his moment of climax by whispering "Now, now!”

When the guy ejaculated he emitted a faint whimper or two and shot huge streams of cum that arced through the air and
landed far along the dirty aisle of the old bus. That was the only moment when his eyes searched my face from behind the curtain of black hair -- to make sure I was watching at his critical instant.

As soon as he climaxed he became anxious to get dressed. In seconds he transformed from aroused naked performer back to sullen black-clad misfit. Then he hurried off through the junkyard at a fast walk while I was still getting my pants buttoned and zipped..

He might softly say “Thursday after school?” as he left. Or I would find a note stuffed through the vent of my locker requesting an appointment. (He never spoke to me at school, never even appeared to recognize me. Yet he knew where my locker was.).

I think Wolf appreciated me, although it was in a strange way. He would sometimes hand me a chocolate bar or coke when I showed up for his performance. Only twice did he ever say anything vaguely conversational. One time was on a day when he put on a more dramatic show for me
than usual, including intricate balance tricks on the old bus seats while he masturbated. When he climaxed and ejected his cum onto the sticks and leaves on the floor I said “Good one today, man.” He looked at me, seeming to wonder where I’d come from. Then he replied “Don’t make me cry.”

The second time he did something unusual was when I shot a load in his sight just as he was getting into his clothes (my ejaculation usually took place between a couple of seats, out of his glance). Seeing cum spew out of my stiff peter seemed to totally surprise him. He stared for a second at my dripping dick and then said one word: “Rockin’.”

Wolf’s performances gave me that extra charge that transforms a good wank into an excellent wank. It was a strange thing that the two of did together, but we each benefited in our own way. I never told my “normal” friends about Wolf and me.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

I Asked for it (Part II)

I Asked for it - the follow up to I asked for it Part I
Part 2

(My Naughty Deed)
A couple months later we were all out at an outdoor free concert. It was some guys Ian knew that were playing. We stayed until late. I got permission to ride home after the show with Trent. On the way to my house, he wanted to stop by his place to use the rest room, and feed his cat. He said everyone was gone, and he had not fed the cat all day. We went in his room, I had never been there before. He had band posters and busted drum sticks hanging from strings on the wall, it was definitely a drummers room. 

I dunno why I but asked him,
"Hey where's all your Porno's?"
He looked at me a little strange, then went directly to his closet and dug out 3 of the waxy covered magazines. 2 Hustler and 1 Penthouse. He tossed them on the bed, and said.
"Hope that does not warp your little mind."

He went into the Restroom and closed the door. After a few minutes he came out and went to the kitchen where I heard a can opener and the tinkle sound of pet food pouring into a bowl. I decided to go see his cat. I had a boner but did not care. Trent said
"Hey Dude, did you see anything you like?"
Instead of an answer I did something crazy, I dropped my shorts below my crotch and showed him my erect 4-1/2 inch cock.
He said,
"Well I guess you did!" As he stepped from one counter to the sink to drop a spoon in. He reached down and touched my hard-on, but only for a bit then said,
"Nice and HARD too!"

I let my shorts pop back up, he placed the food bowl on the floor and turned to me saying,
"Now let me get a better look this time."

This time I pulled my shorts even further down. He dropped to his knees and was directly in front of my erection. He inspected me and said I was getting some nice equipment. He walked away to his room. I released my shorts again, and followed. We both sat on the bed, and I went back to studying the pornos some more.
I felt Trent's hand slowly following the bottom of my T-shirt from the side and then to the front.  His hand was trembling and inching towards my crotch. He was going to touch me, this time without me asking for it?

I just told him, " You can touch it. It's okay…. hey if you want…you can even Suck it.
 Umm ...So Then I'll know what it feels like!"

In a flash he stood up, shut the door and turned out the light. In the dark, I was laying across his bed with my feet dangling above the floor. He rested himself between my open legs, as my shorts were swept down to my ankles. He began licking the head and down the shaft of my dick. I was already rock hard and the warmth of lips and mouth was so inviting. He stopped and actually licked my ball-sac. It was a crazy feeling and I like that he did it so gently and careful.  I wanted him back on my cock.  I reached to move his head there as my other hand pointed my rod into his mouth. I just reset my head on my hands while a warmness enveloped from my middle and made me feel all relaxed.
 It might have been 2 minutes or as much as 10 minutes, I lost track of time. I was mesmerized in this feeling, I wanted him to bring me to my orgasm. But suddenly everything stopped. He lifted off my dick, and clearly said,
"I can't do this, I don't do this."

I didn't know what to say.He went on,
"We are friends and having respect is the most important thing!"

I repeated myself from earlier and said but “I’d like to know how it feels fully, all the way.”

He took my hand and stroked it slowly, then he said okay little buddy just this once. He went back to work on my dick, which had remained hard even during our talk. In the next minute or so he licked swallowed, bobbed and treated me to a luxury, unlike anything I had ever felt in my life. I felt something tense building at the base of my cock, I gasped in a deep breathe, then launched the cherry out of me. I felt my pleasure erupted into his warm mouth. I have no idea how much it was, but it felt like a lot. I was in euphoria as I mashed my hands into his hair pressing upward pumping my hips for my first experience with someone else.

He left the room to the bathroom, perhaps to spit or rinse his mouth.

We quietly put on our clothing and left to my house. I went straight to my room. Trent hung out with Ian in the basement. Later, Trent came upstairs to the restroom, he peeked in my room to say good night. I was in the middle of jacking off, so I rolled over on my stomach to hide it. He asked if I was all right with everything, and I said I was. Well I guess I was.

 That night was the first time anyone ever touched my erect penis, or actually any of that stuff. I was a little ashamed after wards somehow cause he got the presence of mind to stop, even though it was like stopping a speeding train. It was too late. I had convinced him to finish me.

In the next week I saw Trent 2 more times, He was obviously trying to be near me whenever he could at Dad’s house. At one point he was rubbing my shoulders and I like him touching me, again, I never could be sure if he wanted to try again with me. I guess that he was just trying to be nice to me because what we had done was really naughty. I later felt loads of guilt thinking about the possibility of what could have happened to him if we had been caught. We never did any more sexy stuff again, and I didn’t try messing with Boys or Guys again either.

(Fast forward to Today)
 Trent is my friend on Facebook. We do not talk often, but he asks nice stuff about me and my three great kids. I am happily married, and love all that I have now. I'd thank Trent for keeping this all discreet, we did not talk about that event, and glad I’m cool still with him.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The Clincher of Connor's Bed

I was two years younger than Connor who lived next door. He was somewhat nice to me, such as inviting me to swim in their pool from time to time. But his real friends were his own age or older and I was never included when a bunch of the bigger guys swam. At the time of this incident I was 13 and had only recently entered the magical realm of stroking, climaxing and ejaculating.

Usually I changed at home before and after swimming. For some reason I took my swim stuff over to Connor's this time and the two of us changed together. As we began undressing I was suddenly overcome with trembling anticipation. I'd never thought about Connor like this before, but I was just seconds away from seeing his bare manhood. Totally unexpected, I was going to see his naked dick! Any minute now! He's gonna be totally bare!

But Connor was wearing a jock strap which he did not remove, pulling his bathing suit on over the jock. That was one of my young life's terribly frustrating disappointments. Not only did I fail to view Connor's junk, but the situation went the other way. He saw me, saw my naked little shooter displayed while I stripped -- but I didn't see him.

We swam for a while and then some of his buds showed up. Before long I got out of the pool and went home. I was griped the rest of the day by the way things had turned out.

That night something peculiar happened. As I got ready to do the secret ritual to my stiff dick I kept thinking about Connor and his jock. Even though I hadn't seen anything, the glimpse of his near-nakedness stayed with me. I tried to imagine what was hidden in the jock. was it big? Did it get hard like mine? Did he have a lot of hair? Again and again I relived the few moments during which we had changed. Could I have said something that would have altered the outcome? Maybe "Aren't you going to take that off too?" No, that was clearly stupid.

I kept telling myself "I was THIS close to seeing him! THIS close!"

Meanwhile I worked on my erection. My stiffie grew beyond its usual limits. The feelings of approaching orgasm swept over me quicker and more intensely than usual. Too soon I was climaxing, thinking "Not yet, not yet!" But I was already there and the evidence blasted into my washcloth.

Night after night Connor was my fantasy partner while I shot wonderful loads. But gradually the memory receded. There was not much chance that I would ever see Connor naked, little hope that we would ever change together again.

But fate did something really funny. Connor went off to camp for a few days. His mother was divorced and with Connor gone she was alone in the house. She asked my parents if I could spend the nights there just to give her some peace of mind.

 It was okay with me. Kind of like "whatever." But then came the bonus: I was going to sleep in Connor's room, in Connor's bed!

 I spent four nights in Connor's bed. Again he entered my brain wearing nothing but his jock. In my imagination he slid the jock down. In my imagination he told me "Look all you want to." And then the clincher: This is the bed that he jacks off in! This is where he lays while he pumps his boner. This is the exact place where his crotch is naked so he can pump one out!

I was as erect as a tree trunk, as primed as a horny boy could ever be.

For four nights I filled my washcloth with massive ejaculations while unloading my smoking gun in Connor's bed. They were arguably the best four nights of my entire young masturbation career.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Strip Poker with the Sitter

 When I was a pre-teen, my regular babysitter was an older boy from up the street named Bryan. He watched me about once a month or so. He had long hair and an earring—not your usual babysitter but my parents knew his family and they trusted him.

 I always looked forward to Bryan coming over. We had a pretty solid routine. We'd eat, he’d make sure I’d done my homework, and then we'd watch TV and play cards. One night he brought his girlfriend from school with him. I don’t remember her name but do remember thinking she had huge breasts. I was a little irritated at this intrusion to our time together, but not overly so because a third person meant we could play better card games.

  When it came time for bed I pleaded to stay up for a few more games and Bryan told me to change into my pajamas and brush my teeth and maybe we could play another half hour. When I returned, changed into my usual sleepwear of a t-shirt and boxers, they were kissing on the couch, but when they saw me standing there they offered to play a few more hands of gin rummy.

 Sometime over the next few minutes, the girlfriend started giggling. I asked what was so funny but she said it was nothing. We played some more and she laughed a little more. I saw her lean over to Bryan and whispered in his ear and he smirked.  I was getting annoyed at being left out and demanded that they tell me what was so funny. Bryan said that it was time for bed. I was pissed off, but gathered up the cards and stalked off to my room.

 Bryan came into my room a couple minutes later to make sure I was in bed and to turn off the light... I told him that he only sent me to bed because he wanted to make out with his girlfriend. He came true and told me it was because, sitting in my boxers on the floor, my wiener had been hanging out the whole time and that’s what she had been laughing about it... and anyway it was well past my bedtime.

 I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I don't think I cried, but I probably looked like I might. He saw I was upset, then hugged me and told me it was no big deal and smoothed things over saying how she had little brothers and had seen boys naked before. He turned off the light and shut the door. I didn’t sleep. Instead I lay in bed, absentmindedly playing with my boner and having complicated feelings about Bryan and his girlfriend until after I heard my parents come home.

 The next time Bryan was back, he came alone. We stuck to our normal routine, only this time when my parents were gone, I changed into my sleep clothes right after dinner. When we played cards I sat on the floor and sat with my legs spread apart, trying to give him a good view. Pretty quickly he said something about how I was being pretty bold after what happened last time. I just kinda shrugged. He asked me if I was trying to show him my wiener on purpose and I shrugged again. That was when he suggested if I was so cavalier about my body, we should be playing strip poker.

 That night he taught me how to play poker. With no experience and only two items of clothing, I was naked very quickly, but he let me continue playing anyway. I only got him out of his shoes and socks but I was thrilled.

 Every time Bryan sat for me after that we played strip poker or occasionally strip gin or even strip chess to mix it up. We’d play until someone was naked. He was much better than I was so, even though after that first night we started with the name number of clothes on, I almost always ended up naked. Because.... well I enjoyed it, I’d usually stay that way until bedtime. 

 He never touched me sexually and he never really talked about anything sexual except for one night, after I’d lost and after I’d proudly pointed out to him that I was growing pubic hair, he thought a few seconds, then asked me if I thought I was gay.  I remember being embarrassed by the question and thinking that the answer was probably yes, but I told him "I didn't know". He said “that’s fine” and told me not to worry about it.

 When I turned 13 my parents decided I was old enough that I didn’t need a babysitter, and anyways, Bryan was getting ready to leave for college. I was disappointed to lose that time with him but also had started wondering if it was kinda weird that I wanted so badly for my babysitter to see me naked.

 Bryan went away for college and I didn’t really see him for a few years. I didn’t talk to him until after he’d graduated and I was in high school. I saw him washing his car and we talked for maybe 5 or 10 minutes about everything that had happened in the recent 4 or 5 years in between.

 At the time I fantasized about him frequently—and even kept a (fully-clothed) picture of him in my desk drawer that I would look at while I jerked off—but I’m okay with the fact he never tried anything with me. He was an only child himself and I think he saw me a something of a younger brother whose bold games he was happy to play along with.  Whatever his motives, his relaxed, accepting attitude to my wanting to show off went a long way to making me feel comfortable with my body and myself.


Tuesday, January 13, 2015

My Periscope

 My mother thought tub baths got a person cleaner than showers, so throughout our childhood my brothers and I soaked and scrubbed in tubs of warm water.

 Eighth grade Phys Ed classes gave me the ammunition to put an end to tub baths for me. I told her if I was big enough to shower at school, I was big enough to shower at home. But I have good memories of what I did in my tub full of water.

  One of the advantages of a tub bath was the bubbles. We didn’t call it “bubble bath,” which sounded sissy. We just called it foam or suds. We added liquid soap to the water while the tub filled. If my mother was supervising, my bath water might have only a thin film of suds. But if I was running my own bath it would have a large mound of bubbles billowing above the rim of the tub.

 Whenever there was enough foam to hide my skinny bod, I’d go completely underwater and pretend I was a submarine. As the submarine gradually surfaced, its periscope was the first thing to break water…..And the periscope was - you guessed it - my wee little peter. I would hold it in position so that it poked through the water and even through the suds. And when it came into view I would greet it with a silly

 As I got older I continued to enjoy a mountain of foam in the bathtub. I also enjoyed playing with my periscope. I didn’t know what erections were but I knew that sometimes my periscope stuck up through the water by itself, without my assistance. When it got long like that, I couldn’t hide it completely under water. I tried holding it against my belly but it popped back up as soon as I let go of it. I did funny things with it, like swirl it around in the bubbles so that it cleared a crater in the foam. There would be this hole down through the suds with a few inches of erect penis sticking up in the middle.

 I got used to playing with my dick while I bathed. As soon as I learned how to jack off I started doing that in the tub. I felt horny in the warm sudsy water. Often I was sitting on the toilet while the water ran. I would fiddle with my equipment and give myself a boner in anticipation of getting into the water. When I jerked in other situations I often pounded my little Willie real fast. But in the tub it was different. A few minutes of relaxed, slow strokes while I wiggled and jiggled myself brought me to the peak of delight. I never did it fast in the tub. For one reason, I didn’t want my mother to hear any slosh-slosh-slosh sounds.

 Now my periscope took on the additional duty of torpedo launcher. When the pre-ejaculatory sensations reached the critical level I started counting down (which was not an exact science). I would clear the foam out of the way with my left hand while slowly pumping with my right and whispering five... four... three... two... one... The count sped up or slowed down depending on the impending cumshots. When the feelings peaked and told me it was going to happen, I whispered “Launch torpedoes!” and watched the loads shoot wherever I aimed my rigid stiffie - sometimes straight up into the air, sometimes under water, sometimes onto the tile wall next to the tub. I loved climaxing in my ocean of water and bubbles.

 Cleanup was a bit of a downer; I made sure all the stuff went down the drain or got wiped off the tile.

 Showering never gave me the turn-on that playing with my periscope in the tub did - I rarely ever jacked off in the shower. After giving up tub baths my scheduled daily masturbation took place under my covers in the dead of night when everybody was asleep.



Saturday, January 10, 2015

A Horny Blast on the Band Bus

Ya know it makes sense for the guys that are newbies and still shooting out kinda small loads in their undies.
However........(true confession time)

I remember occasionally doing it on up into high school, (and there are probably a lot of other guys just like me.) Notice I said occasionally. Not as a regular thing like the recent stories here.

One time in particular we were on a Band trip and I was standing in the aisle of the bus talking to people. I leaned my package against the frame of one of the seats. A purely accidental thing but the vibration from the bus gave me a boner that got more and more sensitive and touchy the longer I let it go on. I got hugely horny. You guys know how it is when a boner just won't go away unless it gets to toss a much needed squirt.

 Bottom line, I sat in one of the back seats surrounded by instrument cases and worked on myself through my clothes. The pressure was so immense as I felt the sensitive urge tingling from deep inside my dick that kept begging me to shoot off.
In my semi-safe instrument cave, I slowly rubbed discreetly until I spewed a massive load in my pants. It was nasty on my skin, you guys must know I was uncomfortable whole the rest of the day.

Maybe it was immature for a 16-year-old guy. But at the time it was happening.... FUCK IT......I HAD to do it, or I'd go insane!


Thursday, January 8, 2015

Nakey Lego Gang

On the subject of the laundry room, I had a friend whose grandmother was a very salty old woman. Everybody did whatever she said. A bunch of us were playing with water blasters in the yard at their house one day. We got each other thoroughly soaked through and through.

The old lady insisted on putting everybody's clothes through the dryer before she'd let anybody go home.

She shooed us off to my friend's room to peel out of our clothes, saying,
"I reckon, You-all can stand each other naked for 15 or 20 minutes."

We sat hiding our junk at first. But after a little while nobody cared. We ended up building a big Lego creation while our dicks and balls bounced around.

When she brought the dry clothes back, it got real funny while we sorted out our underwear.

I was about 10 and got my first good look at other guys stuff.


Monday, January 5, 2015

A Country Rubdown

This stirs up a recollection from long ago......

 I can close my eyes and remember myself at the height of my rural adolescent need, lying on the tailgate of a farm pickup hidden in a grove of trees while a friend from down the road gave my bulge a nice rubdown.

When I came the stuff exploded inside my denim overalls, most times without underwear. I did the same for my buddy. We knew what we were doing to each other.
Why didn't we unbutton the fly and touch the real thing with our hands?
I suppose we felt like that wouldn't be nice but rubbing your friend's clothes until he got relief was okay.


Sunday, January 4, 2015

The Basement Boys Show

When I was a young teen my parents put up a very nice above-ground pool in our back yard.

The summer after 8th grade 9th grades especially, I had a ton of other boys over to swim, pretty much almost daily. Whenever they'd come over I made sure they brought a change of clothes and just didn't show up in their swim trunks, because my mom "absolutely forbid anyone in the house in wet swim-trunks".

She insisted we go down in the basement in the laundry room to change. Nowhere else, because she didn't want any dripping wet trunks in the bathrooms, etc.

 So, almost every boy who swam in my pool I got to see naked! Some boys were shy and would stand facing the wall to change, but I'd try to embarrass them because of their modesty.

"What, are you embarrassed to let anyone see your stuff? Aw, come on, we're all boys. We all got the same stuff. What's the big deal??" With that, I'd get probably two-thirds of them to turn around and then I could see their dicks too!

It was all contrived. Mom had no such rule. The basement laundry room changing rule was MY rule!


Saturday, January 3, 2015

"We'll do it together. Ready, set, go!"

 I was visiting a slightly younger friend when he made some "suggestive" comments. He was in sixth grade and I was in seventh. That day was hot and so we went into his room to cool off. Following his lead, both of us took off our t-shirts..... followed a little later by our shoes/socks and finally our shorts. Out of nowhere he told me,"I don't care if you want to take off your underwear too."

 I suppose I was not ready, as some of the commenters have said on here before.Taking off my briefs didn't appeal to me so I ignored the idea.

 Soon he said, "It won't bother me if you take them off."

 I was thinking how childish he must be. Because I took PE in seventh grade I'd seen plenty of dicks. Obviously he didn't have that opportunity in sixth grade. He wanted me to let him have a look. But I still didn't take my undies off.

 "What if I go first?" he said after a minute or two. Then he added "We'll do it together. Ready, set, go!" Down went his underwear, showing me a small, soft, uncircumcised little peter resting on top of an equally small set of balls.

 Might as well do it, I thought, and reluctantly bared my own junk.

 He stared at my stuff as I pulled off the undies. "I think you've got some dirt right there," he said. Grabbing up a sock, he gave my dick a little wipe. "That's better," he told me. "Let's see if everything else is okay."

He wiped me thoroughly with the sock. Then he said "I just want to check something." Now using his bare fingers and both hands, he explored my crotch. He moved my dick around, cupped my balls, slid back what remained of my circumcised sheath, felt of the length and diameter of my cock, and spread the pee slit for a look.

 While this was taking place I had a complete change of "readiness." His hands felt good and my overall reaction was that I hoped he would keep examining me as long as he wanted to. But something else was happening. I could feel one of those damn hard-ons coming. They were the curse of my life at school; I kept hiding my crotch and praying that people wouldn't notice. I'd better tell the guy to stop so I could get my briefs back on before my dick swelled up completely and embarrassed us both.

 However, that impulse faded. As my friend continued to manipulate my stiffening peter I enjoyed his attention more and more. And then I looked at his crotch. His own little pisser now stuck rigidly out from his body. Its wrinkled end was stretched open with the tip of the head visible. I had to touch it. Had to feel him like he was feeling me.

 We groped and fondled each other for quite a while. My hard-on became so tense that I was afraid it would never shrink back to its normal size.

 It was while my little friend moved my sheath up and down on my erection that he triggered a bunch of odd feelings. They were strange, unusual, magical. I wanted to experience these brand-new feelings and this kind of friendship whenever I could.

 After that first encounter my little buddy and I shared our immature intimacy at every chance. I soon began having wet dreams as a result, and masturbation arrived for both of us a few months later.

 I was not "ready" until the actual event. But when the event arrived, I quickly did become "ready."