Friday, May 29, 2015

First Camping Trip

 When I was 11, my very first Boy Scout camping trip, I was sharing a tent with two of my friends. I was faking like I was asleep after lights out. It was all too exciting and amusingly strange  to be camping outdoors with my buddies, sleeping in  our undies with wild creatures probably nearby.

 I just couldn't to go to sleep. Maybe I was restless thinking of all the cool stuff we would be doing the next day. The too,  decidedly worried who might die in the night, ripped to shreds by a wild forest beast or just who might piss in the tent.

Then the tent door flap suddenly opened, the over-protective Dad of one of my friends stuck his head in our tent,  he lightly shook his son to wake him up. He then asked him in a whisper, "Did you go wee wee?"

 I was still pretending to be asleep, but I almost started laughing. Gladly I didn't. My friend just whispered back, "Daaaad!...... yeah, I did. Please get outa here, okay??

The intruding Dad slipped away without another word.

The other boys were lost in slumber, but I was condemned with sleep depriving curiosity. Suddenly thoughts about my sleepy pals wiener as he was laying next to me, became attracting as something new to ponder. I reckon I studied his undies for a bit, then well assured that my business to wee wee out my wiener was all bout the same, and I did not need to go. I finally fell soundly asleep in the deep dark woods.

 I had no idea at the time that in a year or so our wieners and some certain special abilities would be the topic we would shudder if any Dad mentioned it. 

Happy Camping,
Scout 13


I Felt Strangely Close to Him

"Using it up" was never an issue with me.

 I can't remember ever thinking about depleting my supply of sperm. I did notice that the volume of ejaculate was reduced if I did it several times in a single day. I took that to mean that I was putting a strain on my system and that a person shouldn't jack (nor screw) more than once a day.

While trying to get physical with a certain friend, we never went beyond a somewhat clinical conversation about our jerking habits. He was a year or so older than me and said he limited himself to four times a week. (*See note below.) Since he was older and presumably wiser I looked up to him and tried to set limits for myself like he did........... It didn't work. I jacked every single day or night.

(*I never even got to see his dick, yet I felt strangely close to him as a result of us talking about jacking off. He said he did it on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights.)

Anonymous

Thursday, May 28, 2015

He Looked at Me Like I was Crazy


This is completely silly, but maybe worth posting just for a laugh.

My grandmother used to count our toes when we kids were little, using the old nursery rhyme that ends "This little piggy cried wee-wee-wee all the way home."

The phrase wee-wee-wee got mixed up in my mind with the term wee-wee meaning urination, plus the term pee-pee for a penis. From about age four on up into elementary school, when anybody mentioned the little piggies I thought not of a little pig squealing, but of piss streaming out of my pee-pee.

At about seven or eight years old me and a pal were playing and we secretly pissed together in the back yard. As we pee'd, the nursery rhyme came into my mind and I wiggled my peter around while telling my little buddy, "this little piggy made wee-wee-wee out of his pee-pee-pee!" He looked at me like I was crazy. Except for one more time, I never spoke those words again.

  Skip forward to the age of 13. Me and a buddy were masturbating together and "helping" each other while we did it. It was either my first time to do it with somebody else, or pretty near the first time. I ejaculated while my friend was pumping me and it felt like a really major event because of the aspect of us jacking together and him making me cum. My mind did some kind of a flip and went involuntary back to that old rhyme. Maybe I was fishing for something to say at that crazy moment when you have just ejaculated with a friend and you seem tongue tied. I told my jacking partner in a sorta baby-talk way, "My pee-pee-pee went wee-wee-wee!" That guy also looked at me as if I was crazy, just like the little buddy so many years earlier. The puzzled look on his face made me snicker and we both had a good laugh. It became a challenge each time to see who could come up with something ridiculous after we'd shot our loads together, but that first time we cracked up about Pee Pee - went Wee Wee was never equaled..

This blog is the first time I have dared mention pee-pee-pee and wee-wee-wee to anybody else!

Anonymous

Puberty Messed up My Studies

I blame Puberty as the main reason my grades dropped in 9th grade.

 In middle school I got almost straight "A's", and my parents were rather upset that I was no longer doing nearly as well and wanted to know why. The main reason was because I could no longer concentrate on (and consequently, finish) my homework! I seemed to be so horny all the time, and my young dick would pretty much continually distract me by demanding to be masturbated. Then I'd go lie on my bed, have a good wank, and then be so relaxed that I'd fall asleep. This was a daily problem for me, and my grades suffered because of it.

Was this something that messed with other guys grades also?

Anonmous

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Arithmatic of Wanking


A few months after my 14th birthday I began to seriously worry that I was probably masturbating “way too much”. I was admittedly kind of a geeky kid, good in school, especially in math and science. I clearly knew that what was coming out of me was my sperm and I knew that someday I was going to need that stuff if I was ever going to have children. I first discovered masturbation very shortly before my 13th birthday, and I was immediately hooked on the tremendous rush that it gave me. I immediately began masturbating at least once every day, twice on many days, and occasionally if I was really horny, perhaps three times. So, as I said at the beginning of the story, by my 14th birthday I was seriously worrying that I was wasting my sperm, and concerned that I might not have enough left by the time I got married and wanted to have kids. I tried meditating and used this as my method to convince myself I shouldn't wank so much. I used my deepest centered self, but that self lost out to the self that wanted to feel good shooting a load. So, being the geeky kid that I was, I did the math to extrapolate how much was being wasted, and if I'd still be able to conceive.


I had heard that married adults, on average had intercourse three times a week. I also figured that once guys were married and could have sex regularly, they would logically completely stop having to masturbate. Looking around at all the families I knew, they all seemed to stop having kids after no more than 10 or 12 years of marriage. So I figured that was probably pretty much when the man started to run out of sperm. So I calculated: 3 times a week, times 52 weeks/year, times 12 years equals 1,872 and. So I figured, at most, guys ran out of sperm definitely after not more than doing it 2,000 times. Then I estimated how many times I probably had already masturbated and squirted out some of my sperm. Holy crap! I figured that by the time I turned 15 I likely would have already done it close to 1000 times! At that rate I might use it all up before I even graduate from high school!

This all took place a long time ago, and it was at a time when parents and society and especially the church put a lot of guilt on us young boys, telling us that masturbation was sinful and maybe even harmful. Now thinking that I had likely already used up close to half my lifetime sperm supply, I remember trying to cut back to save my “remaining supply”, but it was futile. No matter how hard I tried, I could not resist the constant daily urge to whack off.

When I became a married adult, I was both pleased and happily relieved when my wife got pregnant without us having much difficulty at all. It made me feel much more comfortable that the many thousands of times that I had masturbated as a kid indeed did not use up all of my good sperm!

Someone Anonymous

Monday, May 25, 2015

He offered to "DO" me!

In my case I had an enormous guilt problem when I started jacking off. Or maybe I should say when I started trying not to jack off. I grew up in a religion that was hostile to boys' sexuality. I will not name it, but the readers will probably figure it out.

As soon as I experienced my first wank I was in a terrible predicament. It was against everything I had been taught to touch my penis at all, much less pump it like that until it shot stuff out. However, playing with my erect little stiffie produced the most wonderful sensations I had ever felt and I kept needing to do it again and again. Each time my cum spurted out I was in heaven. But at the same time I knew it was an unforgivable sin every time I did it and therefore I felt awful for enjoying myself.

I tried using my will power and was sometimes able to go nearly two weeks without masturbating. Usually I could only bear three or four days until I had to jack off.

At that time I had a close friend of the same religion that I'm going to call Sean. One day in desperation I told Sean that I was doing a certain sinful thing, and doing it not once but pretty often. He admitted that he did the same thing and that he was scared of going to hell as well as scared of getting caught.


Sean and I, being 13 then, were "mature" enough to discuss our problem from a religious standpoint. However, our discussion of our sexual situation involved descriptions of our erections and our pumping experiences and caused us to become stiff and horny. And that led to showing each other our erections, perhaps as a way of sharing our problem and sympathizing with each other.

Sean then had a brilliant idea. He offered to "do" me if I would just lie still and pretend nothing was happening. Then, if I was willing, I could "do" him. Neither one of us would touch our own penises. The squirt would be something that just happened without us playing with ourselves.

 I think we knew that we were rationalizing, but we sealed the deal. I pulled my pants down and lay in the woods and bushes just out of sight of the jogging trail near the Railroad track. Sean said I ought to close my eyes to keep from even seeing what was going to happen. When I was ready, he put his hand around my straining boner. That by itself made my entire body convulse the instant his fingers touched my penis. Then Sean began pumping me. The feeling started happening right away. I quickly arrived at an explosive climax while telling myself again and again, "I am not doing this. It's not my fault. I am innocent."

As soon as I spurted, Sean was ready for his turn. I had never touched another boy before, yet it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do, plus a way of showing my appreciation for what he did for me. He laid very still, not talking, not showing the slightest reaction to what I was doing to his penis. His shot arrived just as quick as mine had. After we pulled our pants back up we kind of thanked each other without actually mentioning what had happened.

That was how it began. Up until we were juniors in high school we masturbated each other twice a week and pretended that we believed we weren't sinning. Even after Sean discovered girls we continued to "do" each other because he didn't have the guts to approach any of the girls we knew.

And I kept telling myself that I wasn't doing it to my own dick and was therefore innocent.

Anonymous

Spots on the Garage Floor


I buddy of mine had a back yard pool, and we used to change into and out of our trunks inside his garage.

One time, the garage door was up and he was too lazy to go close it, so he just pulled off his trunks standing in front of his mom's car. (Nobody could see us really, but with the door open we could see the whole neighborhood.)

Quickly, it became our 'wicked' habit to change with the door open. That led to us getting boners when we changed, and soon we were jerking off together in front of the car. It was exciting because there was always the possibility of getting caught. But we never did.

 We sure left enough of our cum on that garage floor that summer.

Anonymous

Thursday, May 21, 2015

We Met at the Outhouse




The first six years of my schooling I was in a one room school house. There was only one teacher for all eight grades.  For our human needs, there was a outhouse up on the hill away from the school. We actually used the outhouse for more than peeing or pooping.
  When I started school I was already eight years old. I was already playing and sucking with other boys peters. My cousins taught me well, so I was a little ahead of some guys.
  By 13, all it  took was for me to suck  one of the boys peter, then all of the boys knew that I would suck or play with their peter.
  I also had  a peeing problem. I couldn't hold my pee for very long. When I had to go I had to go right away. Because of my frequent  urinary needs, I had to sit in the back of the school room with all the big boys.  I would sit and watch to see if any boys would raise there hand with one finger in the air. Which meant  he had to go to the outhouse. As soon as the teacher said yes, the guys got up and walked by my desk and would smile at me. That meant ” follow me”. I was sitting there watching to see if any boys would raise their hand. No one did but I had to pee, So I got up and went to the outhouse.
   I was standing there peeing when in-walks Joe. He stood beside me watching me pee. He started to unbuckled his belt. then unbuttons, and unzips his jeans. He pulled his jeans down past his underwear. I could see his peter was getting hard inside his underwear. Then he invites,
Go ahead and touch it if you want to.
I reached over and touch his peter. Then he said,
"That's  enough for now.".
 So he reached over and started to play with my peter.
 "You like this don't you?"
 "Oh Yes!"
  "So hey,  umm....School is just about over with for the day, Do you want to meet me after school? I have something very special planned for you."
"Sure I’ll meet you."
  We both put our junk back in our jeans, and went back to class. I was sitting there thinking about what Joe had planned for me. I looked over at him, and he just smiled at me.

A half hour before the end of the day. It just seems like forever. finally it was the end of the day. We waited until everyone had left for home. Once we were inside the outhouse. Joe looked at me,
"Lets take all of our clothes off."
He didn't have to ask again. Clothes were on the floor in seconds.

We stood facing each other naked. In seconds, he put his arms around me and pulled me close to him. I felt his peter touching mine. It felt so good having him hold me like this. He asked me if I ever been kissed?

"Yes, I have kissed other boys, just only on the check is all. Why do you ask?

 "I mean on the lips and putting your tongue  inside another boys  mouth."
 "No I have never kissed like that."

He told me if we kissed that way it would make me feel like I never felt before.
"How do we do it? “ I asked him.

"We put our lips on each other lips. Then we open our mouth just so we can stick our tong inside each other mouth. You want to try it?"

"Yes"
 It sure did make me feel so much different. My peter even acted different with the kissing.


 "Get up on top of the toilet seat. I want to suck your peter." I did as he asked me to do. He looked at my peter for a little while. Then he took my balls in his hand and started to play with them. With his other hand he started to play with my peter. My peter got so hard like it never had before.  He started to lick the head of my peter. He licked all around the head and sucked on just the head. It felt so good. Then he got my whole peter in one gulp, at the same time was still playing with my balls. He reached around with his other hand and started to play with my ass. He continued to suck on my pecker and play with my balls and my ass hole. I looked down at him and told him that my peter was feeling sort of tingly. I also could feel it getting harder. He just nodded his head yes.

Then all at once my peter got real hard and I started jerking. I knew what that meet as that is what the other boys did before they would cum.
 I was jerking a lot and could not stop. I could feel my peter getting harder. I could feel something starting to rise up inside my peter. Just then I felt the cum starting to flow out of my peter. He took one swallow of my cum, then he let me see the rest of my cum going into his hand. When I had finished cumming. he took my peter back into his mouth to suck on it some more. He pulled off my peter. Then he took the cum that was in his hand. He licked his hand clean of my cum.

  He asked me to jump down in front of him. I jumped down and stood in front of him. He grab my face and started to kiss me like we did before. I could taste my own cum while we kissed.

  I asked him how he knew how to make me cum? How did he know I was ready to cum?

 "I was just hoping you were ready to cum. My brother and his friends taught me everything I know about making boys feel real good."
  I reached down and took a hold of his peter. It was really hard.

"You want to suck it?"

 "I sure would like to. Will you cum?"

 "Yes I will."

 "Will you swallow my cum?"

 "Yes I will. I have swallowed lots of boys cum."

 "I know you have........"

I knelt in front of him to suck his peter. Right away it got harder. It did not take him long to have a jerking reflex and was breathing heavier.

I felt his peter getting harder. I kept right on sucking. Then he grabs my head and held me still, as he is starting to cum. He pushed it in deep I was trying to swallow fast I could. When I had gotten the last drop of cum, I pulled off and stood up. 

 "Was it okay?"

 "Hell, it was Perfect!! I never ever cum that fast before."

We kissed some more. Then we got dressed and walked home.

JZ

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Boy in a Tux


One of my nieces is quite a musician, a violinist. Starting early, she was in the orchestra all the way through school. By high school she was always selected for the area youth orchestra which put on several performances every year. Everybody in the extended family went to the concerts, including me.

The girls in the orchestra wore fancy long black dresses, typical dress-up stuff. The boys--- I am laughing as I write this--- those poor adolescent boys wore tuxedos, cummerbunds, frilly-fronted shirts, black shoes and socks, and big black bow-ties. The guys were a surreal scene, clearly uncomfortable, completely out of their element. Yes, they cleaned-up nice and looked elegant, but it was obvious that inside the soul of every tuxxed-up male performer was a kid who would give anything to be hanging out in flip-flops and shorts.

That's the background for a hilarious observation in the restroom before one of those performances.

I went in to drain my radiator prior to the concert. While I stood at a urinal, an absolutely wonderful event unfolded. Across the room in the nearest stall was a pair of black-clad legs with the unmistakable satiny line of tux pants ending in highly-polished black shoes. What really got my attention was the shadow of repetitious motion which any guy over the age of 12 could have identified. The shadow jiggled constantly while I watched. After a few seconds the black shoes pulled back several inches and turned on their edges so that the soles were pressed together. The shaking shadow picked up speed: jackety-jackety-jackety! And then there was a sudden sighing noise and everything came to a complete stop, followed after a brief pause by the sound of toilet paper unrolling.

I could read the poor kid's mind: "Damn the tuxes! Gotta get one out before we start!"

 Standing in the lobby, I watched the guy hurry out of the restroom, every button properly fastened and not a wrinkle visible. He was lovely,  about 15, earnest-looking young dude, no zits on his cheeks, his hair shaped and combed to perfection. Not the slightest sign that he'd been panting and abusing himself,  taking care of personal business for the last few minutes.

When the orchestra filed in I identified him in the trombone section and had a great evening focusing on him throughout the concert.

Anonymous


Sunday, May 17, 2015

A Boy's Special Camping Trip Lesson

The author in this Story says he knew about masturbation from hearing other boys talk about it, yet he had never tried it. I would like to say that you can hear people talk about something (and even watch them make motions with their hands) and still not know what the hell it all means. Probably every boy I knew started jacking off at the age of twelve or thirteen, yet the whole thing totally went over my head. When I finally got the message I was almost fifteen. it was because a younger boy on a camp-out jacked off in his sleeping bag right next to me. Yes, he was younger than me, maybe two years younger. he knew what to do, and what the heck this kid knew how to pleasure himself and I was not even a novice yet.

The first night I tried to ignore what he was doing. I knew he was playing with his weenie but (whatever he was doing to it) it would not be nice for me to "notice" what he was doing. I was also embarrassed because my own weenie got real stiff while he was playing with his.

We sort of made friends the next day hanging out in the woods and learning stuff bout camping, but through that whole day I kept thinking bout what stuff he knew about playing with weenies. I was older and should know more than this little guy. he had come onto something I hadn't yet. I was not sure how to ask, that's for sure.

That night I was really sleepy, however he managed to get my attention again with his movements. Even though I knew it was not nice for us to touch each other "there," it roused up a strange feeling of excitement in me. My boner was exceptionally stiff and I needed to do something to soothe it. I started pumping it like my friend was doing to his. We didn't say a word, but there was a harmonious connection exploding each boys need to relieve.

When I climaxed and ejaculated (before he did) I was shaking and almost in tears due to fear of what was happening. But I could not let my buddy know that it had NEVER happened to me before. Then he squirted and acted happy about it. That was a relief to me because he seemed to expect it, so maybe that was what was supposed to happen. I felt he had just given me an extraordinary gift.

I immediately made up for lost time and began jacking myself every day with no hesitation at all. I could have started a couple of years earlier if I hadn't been too dumb to know what everybody else was talking about.

Anonymous

My Special Camping Trip

The author in this one says he knew about masturbation from hearing other boys talk about it, yet he had never tried it. I would like to say that you can hear people talk about something (and even watch them make motions with their hands) and still not know what the hell it all means. Probably every boy I knew started jacking off at the age of twelve or thirteen, yet the whole thing totally went over my head. When I finally got the message I was almost fifteen. it was because a younger boy on a camp-out jacked off in his sleeping bag right next to me. Yes, he was younger than me, maybe two years younger.

The first night I tried to ignore what he was doing. I knew he was playing with his weenie but (whatever he was doing to it) it would not be nice for me to "notice" what he was doing. I was also embarrassed because my own weenie got real stiff while he was playing with his.

We sort of made friends the next day hanging out in the woods and learning stuff bout camping, but through that whole day I kept thinking bout what stuff he knew about playing with weenies. I was older and should know more than this little guy. he had come onto something I hadn't yet. I was not sure how to ask, that's for sure.

That night I was really sleepy, however he managed to get my attention again with his movements. Even though I knew it was not nice for us to touch each other "there," it roused up a strange feeling of excitement in me. My boner was exceptionally stiff and I needed to do something to soothe it. I started pumping it like my friend was doing to his. We didn't say a word, but there was a harmonious connection exploding each boys need to relieve.

When I climaxed and ejaculated (before he did) I was shaking and almost in tears due to fear of what was happening. But I could not let my buddy know that it had NEVER happened to me before. Then he squirted and acted happy about it. That was a relief to me because he seemed to expect it, so maybe that was what was supposed to happen. I felt he had just given me an extraordinary gift.

I immediately made up for lost time and began jacking myself every day with no hesitation at all. I could have started a couple of years earlier if I hadn't been too dumb to know what everybody else was talking about.

Anonymous

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Secrets of the Garden Shed



Talking about "skipping a day or two," my bud and me didn't take turns doing it on alternate days like in this story. But we would promise each other to save up our cum and only do it when we were together. Which sometimes meant waiting a few days and you would have to endure horrible boners that made you think about doing it all the time. Sometimes I would get so horny that I had to fudge and get one out by myself. But mostly I kept my promises. Then when the time came and we were doing it together, the climax would be an event to remember because of putting it off a while.


We were about 13-14. We had a safe place in a garden shed behind his house. We could jack standing up and looking out a dirty window in case anybody was coming. But also some of our best times, one guy would lay on a table with his pants down and his boner standing up. The other guy jacked him while keeping watch out the window.

When we were close to cumming a guy might say to the one jacking, "I'm gonna have a gusher," meaning a huge ejaculation pretended our dicks were like oil wells.. I remember how it felt to be jacking him right at the end and when his dick would stiffen so straight. I would slow down while he was repeating funny things about having a gusher. Then he would shoot while I had my hand firm around his stiffie. It was intense, I could feel him have spasms when the stuff blew out.

Whether standing up or laying on the table, we shot our Jizz into flower pots and mixed it up with the dirt in the pots. I guess to hide it, or us dudes just being boys. Those were some hella times with a very good friend which I will never forget. I don't know how some boys make it through those years without having a jacking pal to share a good wank with. I sure had a good one!

Anonymous

Friday, May 8, 2015

Thank You, Joe



Some boys discover masturbation by accident. Some pursue it before they are ready, attempting to wank again and again until their bodies finally become operational. Others, like me, have it thoughtfully demonstrated by a patient mentor like Joe.

Everybody called him Joe because his real name was too complicated for us. He was originally from Taiwan, a small kid but surprisingly muscular. Joe wore heavy-framed glasses that accentuated his overall studious appearance. He was smart as a whip. But there was another side to Joe that was not revealed in the classroom.

  I had just turned 13 and Joe was 14, both of us in the eighth grade, and on the neighborhood swim team. Antagonized by  being around boys in swimsuits all the time, I was in a constant stage of sexual curiosity and arousal, interested in getting secret looks at the anatomy of all my friends. I went to bed with a boner and woke up with one. At night I sometimes emitted gooey stuff from my penis. I was not as naive as you might think, since I knew from hearing other guys talk about it, that there was a pumping procedure that boys did to their dicks. BUT, and this is a very big BUT, I had never tried that procedure for myself. I had sort of a mental block that kept me from doing anything dangerous to myself. So my only bow to sexuality was arranging to get a peek at dicks whenever I could. My boners and gooey spots continued.

Although we saw each other at swim meets, and in school, Joe and I got to be friends as a result of working on a science project together. We became more and more close, visiting back and forth at each other’s homes. Joe was lying across his bed one day when he said something strange: “Sometimes my pants get too tight.”

I looked at him. He was rubbing his wrist back and forth on his lap. I knew immediately that he had a boner, but I was blown away by him calling attention to it.

“I’ve got to loosen these pants,” he said. He unzipped and slid them down, now rubbing a bulge in his underwear. I could feel myself growing a bulge of my own. All I could think was, “If this works out right I’ll see Joe’s dick!”

Joe suggested that I loosen my own pants to keep him company. From there things progressed rapidly. After bantering back and forth for a few seconds, Joe reached over and gave the lump in my underwear a squeeze. He was the first person to ever touch my dick..... I was glad it happened to be hard. Meanwhile he squeezed and mashed himself and asked if I wanted to feel how hard his was. We had exchanged only a few exploratory gropes when Joe lowered his boxers and his bare erection came into view, poking toward his navel but so stiff that it was raised up over his tummy.

“Can I see?” he asked, staring at my crotch, so my shorts also went down while I stared at Joe’s boner.

This was the best “peek” I’d ever had. Joe was circumcised and equipped with about a 5" stiffie surmounted by a large head. His dick was darker than the rest of his body. His balls were darker still - almost black. He had a small bush of sparse black hair, less than I had. We kept trading touches. In a minute Joe wrapped his hand around his boner and settled into jacking. He looked at me, obviously waiting for me to do the same thing.

Finally he said, “You can do it too if you want to.”

My answer was a lot of stuttering and stumbling. Finally I managed to say
 “Not yet. I don’t do... I never...”

“Watch,” Joe said. He continued stroking himself, telling me “It’s good” and “You’ll like it.” When Joe reached his climax I was absolutely petrified to see the enormous spurts of white stuff that shot out of his dick and landed on his chest.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Perfect,” he replied.

Over the next couple of weeks Joe and I had several more intimate encounters during which we explored each other’s erections and he demonstrated masturbation for me, showing me how he gripped his penis and describing his feelings as he progressed toward an ejaculation. I would put my hand around his dark balls and observe him stroking his hardness while he wanked. Each time, he told me how wonderful it was. Finally he convinced me that I had to get with the program and pump my own boner. He had me lay on his bed, telling me to take my time and enjoy it. While I awkwardly pumped myself, Joe stood by the bed taking care of his own hard-on and encouraging me to keep going.

“Do you feel good yet?” he wanted to know.

“Scared,” I told him, but he just laughed.

My maiden climax occurred with me laying on Joe’s bed and not knowing what the crazy feelings meant. He stood watching through his big glasses and jacking his stiff boner and apparently getting harder and more horny at the sight of me pumping my tool. When my load fired I was totally frightened. It felt like a cannon had gone off somewhere inside my body. I was sure I had ruptured something in my internal organs. But my patient teacher was smiling at me.

“Congratulations,” Joe said, shooting his load into his hand.

Joe and I became a jacking team, performing the fine art of adolescent masturbation together. We discovered purely by accident that skipping a day or two made the climax more awesome the next time we wanked. So we sometimes took turns. Monday might be Joe’s day to cum. I would feel him and arouse him and masturbate him until he delivered his load. Meanwhile I was stiff and horny, but it wasn’t my day so I forced myself to leave my dick alone. For the next twenty-four hours I would be unbearably horny. Then on Tuesday Joe would wank me and all the pressure that had built up would explode in huge sensations and big shots of ejaculate.

But there were many days when we couldn’t resist the need. We lay together absolutely loving what we were doing, slowly stroking one another’s stiff erections, both of us delaying our ejaculations as long as we could until finally climaxing in one gooey mess.

Anonymous

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Locker Room Peeks

At about 11, I used to hang out in the locker room of the local swimming pool. It was a combination of restroom and changing room with the lockers and benches right across from the toilet stalls.


 I knew I was doing something weird. I sat in a toilet stall and waited for boys to change clothes. If I was lucky, they changed at a locker where I could sneak a peek through the slit next to the door of the stall. I waited for them to get naked. Usually I only saw a guy's rear end. That was kind of a charge for me if it was a guy about my age. I truly id not like hairy butts on grown-ups, and not even teens.

Sometimes a guy turned around enough for me to glimpse his package. That didn't happen very often. But when it did, I considered it an awesome day. As far as I remember, I didn't get boners at that age, but a frontal view was always a huge event. At each visit to the pool I looked forward to seeing junk although I rarely did.

One of those sightings stuck with me through the years. There were several kids changing at the same time, and they were talking back and forth. The guy in my line of vision turned about 90 degrees toward his friends, giving me an absolutely perfect view of his bare frontage. As their conversation continued, he put a hand around his exposed privates, holding his balls with several fingers. Maybe his balls were cold from just getting out of the pool. His thumb rested on top of his peter. I guess he was totally unaware of what he was doing. For only a few seconds he squeezed his balls and wiggled his soft dick around. Then it was over and he continued changing clothes.

For me, sitting in my observation post in the stall, it was the "moment of a lifetime" to see him touch himself like that.

Anonymous

Saturday, May 2, 2015

A Boy's Pants on Fire



This was not a laughing matter and I'm not posting it for grins. It's an example of how a shared crisis can bond boys together. It was the first time I saw anybody's bare stuff, and it happened under circumstances that could have been disastrous.

We were in a guy's back yard on a Saturday morning, three of us from the same fourth grade class, trying to build a campfire in a ring of rocks. When the wood did not light, the guy that lived there got a can of charcoal lighter fluid and we sloshed it on the wood. We were undoubtedly careless with the lighter fluid (and probably should not have been building a campfire without an adult).


Without us knowing it, some of the fluid got on a boy's pants. When we struck a match, not only did the campfire blaze into flames, but so did that boy's pants. He screamed and started running around the yard while unbuckling his pants and trying to get them off. He could not get his pants past his shoes. He fell to the ground and rolled around while pulling his shoes off. The third boy came running with the hose and soon we were all saturated. That put the flames out but the pants were still smoking. The guy was kicking like mad, trying to get his pants off. I grabbed one of the pant legs and pulled them the rest of the way off of him and threw them as far as I could.

As soon as his pants were off, the guy was so scared that he also wiggled out of his underwear and kicked them away, then his shirt. It was in the Fall, relatively cool, all of us now wet and shivering. The guy lay crying in the grass in a fetal position with not a stitch of clothes on. By then a man and a teenage boy from next door climbed over the fence and the parents of the boy that lived there ran out their back door.

Our friend was actually not burned at all, although the skin of one leg looked red. Everybody got down beside him to talk to him and check him out, rolling him from side to side while they examined him and assured him that EMS was on the way.

What bothered me was that nobody covered his junk during all of this. I was very worried for my friend, but also felt bad because of everybody staring right at his naked dick and balls. I wanted to say, "Quit looking at him!"

Here is the strange thing about my reactions: I felt like it was no big deal that the other boy and I were seeing our friend's privates in an emergency, because we were all pals. But it bothered me that the adults and the teenager were getting a look at him. Then the EMS technicians arrived and they were seeing his dick too. While EMS was examining his legs I got his shirt and laid it over his crotch. The technicians snatched it away and kept him nude until they got him on the gurney and covered him with a sheet.

We were very lucky that day. Our friend's legs were treated with ointment at the hospital and nobody had any after-effects, unless you count the lectures we all got.

The first time we were together after that was a very serious moment. The other two of us asked the guy if he was okay. He responded by sliding his pants down so we could see his legs. He showed us that his legs were fine. Then he flashed his underwear down for a second and told us, "This is okay too." That broke the ice. We made jokes about the guy having a smokin' dick. Or we would ask if he would light a fire with his dick. We threatened to tell girls that he was "hot," not having the slightest clue what it meant. All of that was in bad taste, sure, considering the danger he'd been through. But I think laughing about it was an important part of dealing with what could have been a serious tragedy.

Our jokes and our worry about whether any critical part of his anatomy had been damaged led to the three of us peeing together outdoors fairly often. We made sure each of us got a good look at everybody else. From that we moved on to showing our entire stuff to each other and "measuring" things with our fingers. Our imaginary excuse was that all of us needed to compare our equipment to show the vicitim of the fire that his set of junk had not been damaged.

We were already friends before the crisis, and after that experience we were the best of buddies and very informal about seeing and touching the intimate parts of each other's bodies.