Sunday, January 31, 2016

It Still Needed Relief

This topic seems strange for here, but it is true that witnessing straight sexual activity can trigger a horny response in a non-straight person. Maybe the reverse is also true, I don't know.


I am thinking about an incident when I was flying home from my grandparents years ago. I must have been 14, maybe 15. There was an older teenage couple in the same boarding area with me. The boy was leaving and his girlfriend was there to see him off. They hugged/kissed constantly and went off into corners to hang onto each other. After while I noticed something that blew me away: I remember being completely stunned to see an obvious diagonal ridge in his pants. She had gotten him hard! They continued roaming around the area and looking for places to hide while making out. While they hugged she would be rubbing his boner with her hand or pressing her pelvis tightly against his groin. Me being very aware of other guys' dicks, I couldn't take my eyes off his big lump of an erection and her messing with it. Just a guess, I'd give 50-50 odds that she made him cum.

My point, and it is a peculiar one since I am not straight, is that thanks to the hetero teen couple I had a hard-on of my own and had to go to the restroom and lock myself into a stall so I could respond to their stimulus and shoot a load of my own.

On the flight the guy sat a few rows in front of me. I kept staring at the back of his head and wondering whether he was sitting there with cum in his pants, or with an erect dick that still needed relief.

Anonymous

Friday, January 29, 2016

Popular Topic and Link

This topic is the basis of many stories on your blog. I thought you may want to post the link? To read about other boys real experiences.


MG


http://www.virtualteen.org/forums/showthread.php?t=222380


Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Yours is Longer than Mine (Linked Story)

My laugh for the day:

 Guy at work told this. He is divorced. The ex has custody of their 7 year old boy but he gets the kid on alternate weekends.

Saturday night they invited another boy to go along for a movie and dinner at a restaurant. For dessert they were eating ice cream when suddenly the son says to his friend, Read the rest of the story at Tell Us Your BS-
"Yours is longer than mine."


Saturday, January 23, 2016

Little Clayton

This comment seems off-topic from the story. But it made me recall something.

When I was in 9th grade there were just two boys in my class who still had almost no puberty development. I actually felt sorry for them, but it didn't seem to outwardly bother them and lucky for them, nobody openly joked them about it either.

One of the boys, we can call him Clayton. Well he and I were both 9th grade wrestlers. We all had to line up naked every day before practice for weigh-in. Compared to every other boy in line, his whole cock was clearly still tiny, and Clayton had only about as much pubic hair as I once had...back in the middle of 6th grade. Poor Dude!

I am sure just about every one of us remembers an unfortunate kid just like little Clayton.

Anonymous

Friday, January 22, 2016

Grady Was Always So Grateful

When I was in about ninth grade I had a younger friend named Grady who seemed to always be thinking about his dick. Mind you, being 14 I thought about mine a lot, and played with it too. But my pal would make reference to his peter when we were doing totally non-sexual things. He was a couple of grades younger than me.

One day he told me to pretend that he needed his physical exam for starting the school year, and to pretend that I was the doctor. Up until he came up with that "line" I had not actually seen his bare dick. We were playing under the porch of an old feed store that had been closed as long as I could remember.

"Start with my pants," Grady said. So I unfastened the top button and then worked the zipper down. He lifted his butt a little so the pants could slide down. Now I was looking at his whitie tighties which had a distinct bump sticking up. I'd seen other boys' dicks in the showers and occasionally when a couple of us would have a little secret pump-time together. But never Grady.

I must have been squatting next to him and staring at the bump in his underwear. He said "Go on, you've gotta give me a physical." So down went the briefs.

He had a really small dick which was sticking straight up from his groin. It was uncircumcised, the first uncut penis I had ever seen. It had a funny little nozzle of constricted skin at its tip.

He's hard, I told myself. The thought crossed my mind that Grady was too young for me to play with him in this way. But the whole thing was his idea, not mine.

"You better start your examination, Doctor," he told me. So I reached out to give him a quick feel. I brushed his little boner with the back of my fingers. "All in good shape," I told him.

"Is that all you're gonna do?" Grady complained. "Check it some more."

I felt it and gently rubbed it and gave it a few little flips so I could watch it pop back to its vertical position. It was clear that Grady enjoyed the attention. He told me to wiggle it, to squeeze it, to slide the skin back and forth.

After a few minutes of me playing with Grady's little dick, he started getting kind of antsy. He moved his legs around, crossing his ankles. He bumped his butt up and down while I held his stiffie. And then he said a few oh's in a funny voice. “That’s good,” he told me as I aroused him.
“It feels so good when you... Oh! Good!”

 I was blown away. The kid had to be working up to a climax while only telling me that he wanted me to play like it was a physical exam. What he wanted all along was to be masturbated.
"Everything all right?" I asked him.
"Yeah..." he said in a breathy sort of way. "Keep doing... Do some more ups and downs, huh?"

Grady, twelve and in seventh grade, had arranged things so that I was jacking him off!

I had been getting stiffer and stiffer while stimulating Grady's little peter. "Just a minute," I told him. "I'm gonna get mine out too."

"Hurry, hurry," Grady told me anxiously. "You need to finish my exam."

I popped my boner out and gave it a couple of wiggles. "Gaw!" Grady told me. "It's big! Let me give you a little exam too."

He put his hand around my hard-on and felt me up real good. "Keep doing me," he told me urgently. When I complied and got my fingers on his intensely stiff little prod he really started wiggling around. Within seconds we were jacking each other. He pumped back and forth on my boner while I slid a thumb and two fingers up and down on his.

"Oh!" he said, poking his dick tighter into my moving hand. "Oh! I'm gonna spray! Are you gonna spray? Little more... little more... little... NOW!"

Grady's small uncircumcised dick spurted a fountain of ejaculate into the air. Meanwhile he held my dick in a tight grip and breathed hard. "Oh," he said for the nth time. “Thank you, thank you!” Then adding, "Now you."

He got up on his knees and masturbated me to a nice cumshot, pumping with one hand and massaging my
balls with the other. "Now!" I told him, and a deep orgasm shot my cum across the dry dirt under the old porch.

Every so often Grady would tell me that he needed a physical exam. I was glad to jack him because he
was always so grateful. The funny thing is, he never jacked himself. Sometimes he jacked me; sometimes I jacked myself. I suppose he masturbated himself when he was alone, but whenever we were together he only climaxed as a result of me pumping his stiff little uncircumcised peter.

From my experiences with Grady I got the idea into my mind that boys with that funny looking nozzle on the end of their dicks preferred for other guys to jack them off instead of doing it themselves.

Anonymous

Monday, January 18, 2016

So Who is Really Normal?

The current controversy whether or not Ted Cruz can run for US President because he was born in Canada has been interesting to me since I, too, was born in Canada to US parents. My dad was working for a company that assigned him to a Canadian office for a couple of years, and it was during that time that I was both conceived and born. Even though I have a Canadian birth certificate, there has never been a question that I was a US citizen. I had no trouble getting a driver’s license or registering to vote.

So, why I’m I writing to this blog? The summer after 3rd grade I was playing outside with three friends and we all decided we needed to pee. We all dropped our pants, and the three other boys began staring at my penis. They asked me what was “wrong” with it? I looked at all of theirs, and mine was definitely different, and I had no idea why.

 That night, I sheepishly asked my dad what was wrong with my wiener? He asked why I thought there was something wrong with it, and I explained how all the other boys’ wieners were different than mine. He had me pull down my pants, and he carefully pushed back my foreskin and asked me if this was how all the other boys’ wieners looked, and I said yes. He then explained to me that when I was born, in Canada they didn’t “snip off” this part of a boy-baby’s wiener, but that in the United States almost all baby boys have that part of their wiener cut off. It was hard for me to understand why anyone would want to cut that off, but at least now I knew why I was different-looking than all the other boys.

Why I am writing is because my mom passed away this past year, and in emptying her house I came across some papers from my childhood. I discovered my physical for Boy Scout camp, and there was a column of various body parts with two more columns for the doctor to check mark “normal”, or “abnormal”.

 To my complete surprise, at age 12 the doctor had check marked that my “genitalia” was “abnormal”. All I can figure, was that it was because I was not circumcised like all the other boys. I don’t recall ever having any sort of a medical problem or issue with my private parts as a boy. But then I thought, I was actually the only “normal” one. All the other boys had been snipped and made “abnormal”. I’m still surprised that any doctor would consider an uncircumcised penis to be “abnormal”.

 But that was a long time ago, when it seems almost every US baby boy was circumcised at birth.

Anonymous

Sunday, January 17, 2016

My First was not my Own (Part 2)

I watched him apply a little to his very erect penis, he began rubbing it in with an up and down motion, and told me how good it felt. I then tired putting a little of his lotion onto my dick, but it was totally soft and I was still nervous and self-conscious as well. He then looked over at me and said that I looked like I needed a little help. He then said “let me help” and he reached over and grabbed my soft dick! He started rubbing the lotion on it and squeezing it in ways and places that I guess I had never done, and pretty quickly I felt myself starting to get really stiff. I soon became rock hard and the sensations were very nice. He kept rubbing me with a little more intensity, and then he asked me if I wanted him to make me jizz. What could I say? I really didn’t know what that meant! So, to save me from any further embarrassment, I told him that was okay.

  He started stroking me a little harder and faster, and my whole body seemed to be reacting in ways that were almost scaring me. I could feel my heart beating faster, I was breathing faster, all my stomach muscles were flexed tight and with the new sensations in my penis I couldn’t even seem to relax all my muscles. I then got this strange feeling like one of my nuts had pulled up inside my body. I reached down, and sure enough, it had! I took my hand and massaged it back down, but I could tell both of my nuts seemed to be pulled up real tight. Then the tip of my penis began feeling REALLY strange and sensitive. And then it started to happen! The first time that fantastic feeling had ever come over my body, and I could tell I was uncontrollably “peeing” a little bit, too.


My new friend, still stroking my now VERY sensitive cock, asked me why I didn’t tell him I was about to jizz? I sheepishly apologized, and told him, “it happened so quick”. I was still catching my breath, and he went back into his pack and pulled out a small towel. He handed it to me and told me I could clean myself up with his “jizz towel” if I wanted to.


Once I was cleaned up, he asked me since he made me jizz, if I wanted to try making him jizz, too? Again, what could I say? I agreed to try. So, the very first cock that I ever jacked off in my life ended up to be not even my own. I guess I was pretty good at it, because even though I was just trying to mimic what he had done to me, I made him cum pretty quick. (After what had just happened to me I found it impossible to get to sleep.


About a half-hour later, I had gotten hard again. I was so confused but also so curious. My new friend was still awake too, so I asked him if I could use a little more of his lotion, because I “felt like I needed to jizz again”. He gave me the bottle, and this time I successfully made myself cum for the very first time.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

My First was not my Own (Part 1)

I was very active in Boy Scouts. For this one weekend campout, in tents in September of 7th seventh grade, that Friday in school my friend and tent mate started running a fever and could no longer go on the trip. I decided since he couldn’t go, I didn’t want to go either, but my dad strongly suggested that I go and at least see if there was another boy who was also in need of a tent mate. So, reluctantly, I did. When we got there, I found out that there was another boy, also in my class but older than me, who likewise had his tent mate cancel out at the last minute. He was agreeable to tenting with me, and my dad thought it was a great idea, so reluctantly, I agreed.

That evening in camp, we got to know each other and got along really well. After campfire and hot chocolate, we all went to our tents for the night. We were in our sleeping bags, talking about all sorts of things, and then he said to me, “I feel like I gotta jizz real bad. How about you?” (For this boy, I came to realize he used the word “jizz” as both a noun and a verb, to mean any of a number of things. For him, this word could mean masturbate, masturbation, ejaculate, or semen.) My big problem with his question was that I really wasn’t quite sure what “jizz” meant. I had heard it before, but not only had I never masturbated yet, I really wasn’t even sure if such a thing actually existed or if it was just folklore that boys could actually do this thing. Anyway, I told him that I felt like I needed to jizz too, even though I had no idea for sure what it was.
In the dim light I then saw him opening up his sleeping bag and maneuvering to pull down his shorts. He then asked me if I was okay with us doing it together in the tent, and I said that I was. (I had never actually done anything sexual with any of my friends before, and I was admittedly also a little shocked because this was the first time I ever saw a boy with an erection. But I pretended I was okay with all of it.) He noticed that I wasn’t doing anything, not even opening my sleeping bag so he asked me if I changed my mind or if I still needed to jizz, too? Now I felt obligated, so I opened my sleeping bag and pulled down my shorts just like he had. My penis, however, was entirely soft. I was very nervous, self-conscious, and had no idea for sure what it was that I had just agreed to do. He then continued to ask me questions, like how often I did it (I told him “not too often”), if I ever did it with other guys (I told him I’d done it with other guys “a few times”), and if I usually did it with a lube or if I did it dry (I told him, “both ways”). Again, I had no idea what I was talking about. All of these things I had told him, I made up.

He then took out a small bottle out of his pack and said that he liked doing it using some hand lotion. He asked me if I had brought any lube with me, and I said no. He then asked me if I wanted to use some of his, and I said okay.

Anonymous

(Part 2 will be  following soon.)

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Do you want me to scrub you down myself?

Years ago I was a volunteer leader for a boys' organization sponsored by a civic club. Among my guys was a 15-year-old who was irresistible to girls. Up to a point, that is. Gabe was tall and had wind-blown brown hair. His entire body exuded sexy teen masculinity even though he was not yet fully mature.

However, Gabe's "irresistibility" stopped when he got within smelling distance. He had the worst, most sour body odor you can imagine. He was intelligent and should have figured things out for himself, but no. He would show up wearing the same smelly clothes day after day. His aroma was just awful.  People stared at him. Then they got up and moved as far away as possible. Girls tried to like him because he was so handsome, but the odor ruined everything.

I made a project out of Gabe. Brought him to my apartment. Told him we had some important talking to do and that he had to sit still and listen hard.

I started my speech. Almost immediately he interrupted, telling me that he liked sports and that athletes were supposed to smell like men. We argued back and forth for quite a while. Finally I handed him a sack with "gifts" I'd bought him: soap, shampoo, deodorant, package of three boxers and a new shirt.

That made him mad. He told me he was not a "charity case." I said, "Great. Prove that you can clean up and I'll apologize for insulting you."

I expect I could have been arrested for the way I handled it.

We went into the bathroom. I  closed the toilet lid and told him to have a seat. "Since you consider yourself an athlete, think of this as a locker room." I stripped and turned on the shower. Got under the spray and gave him a full demonstration of shampooing, of soaping every inch of the body, of rinsing off. Then got out and applied deodorant to all the critical areas.

"You're next," I told him. I think Gabe knew that was coming. He sad "Aww, man!" But he peeled off his clothes and pretty soon we were joking about the "locker room." Gabe looked at me to see if I was looking at him. I maintained complete objectivity, never staring.

Gabe's idea of showering was to let the water run on him for a minute and then reach for a towel. I told him that wouldn't do the job. "Do you want me to scrub you down myself?" I asked. (I had absolutely no intention of touching him.) "Remember how I did it."

So he lathered up with shampoo. Then I handed him the soap and reminded him that a man's critical areas were his armpits, crotch and feet.

By the time he finished and got his new shirt on he would have been welcome at any party in town.

"This is an every-day thing," I told him. "Without fail. Twice a day if you are really active. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Gabe told me, like he was dismissing the whole thing. But he began showing up wearing clean clothes and smelling reasonably fresh.

That was about fifteen years ago. I still run into Gabe from time to time. He became a local policeman and is really handsome in uniform. He's married and has two little girls.

Martin

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Irish Spring eu de Naturale

I guess this is handled different at each school. In 7th and 8th grade my supply list included a section for those taking gym. In addition to gym clothes, we all had to bring a bar of soap, a stick of solid deodorant, and shampoo in an unbreakable container. Each of us kept our own deodorant and shampoo which we had to bring back and forth to class every day. The bars of soap were pooled, all dumped together in a box in the towel room. The towel monitor in each class was responsible for having enough soap in every soap dish in the showers.

My brother, who is three and a half years older than me, really razzed me about needing all that stuff. He called me "stinky" and would say things like "Don't forget to perfume your pecker" when I got out of the car at my school.

Most parents sent a bar of the cheapest store-brand soap they could find. However some sent brand names. Irish Spring was in high demand because guys liked the way it smelled. If there was Irish Spring in one of the soap dishes on any given day, everybody would get into a big tussle in the showers, trying to grab the soap away from each other. Once a guy told me I was "next." Then he ran the Irish Spring up and down his butt crack before offering it to me. I got in trouble because the coach heard me yelling "I don't want it after it's been in your butt!"

The Kind Barber

I wish my dad have even done that much for me! I was an only-child, and it wasn't just the sexual part of puberty that I was clueless about.

Gosh, it was my barber of all people who told me I needed to start washing my hair more often, because it was dirty and oily. I asked him why, and he told me it was because I was "maturing". Then he told me I needed to use some "deodorant", too. I walked out of that haircut REALLY confused, to say the least.

 I was still 12 years old, and this was many months before I had my first climax. The only thing that I realized at the time was different about my body was that I was growing a very little bit of hair down there.
It was in 7th grade PE that I actually learned many different ways how to use that stick of deodorant, by observing several of the 8th grade boys when they would be getting dressed after showering. Yes, it was a discovery that I could apply it when I still had a shirt on, by sticking my arm and the container up inside my shirt. First one side, then the other. Or, put my arm through the neck-hole of the shirt and apply it that way. I also observed that I didn't have to stick my arm all the way straight up in the air to apply it. Some boys barely spread their arms more than a few inches from their body to apply that stuff. I guess I never realized you could do it that way, either.
(I also learned by observation the different ways the 8th grade boys pulled up their underpants and then carefully positioned and adjusted and tucked their long penises inside of them as they'd be getting dressed. That became a learned skill, too.)

Sunday, January 10, 2016

Smelly Boys

In all these stories and comments, nobody has mentioned starting to use deodorant in middle school or junior hi as a mark of passing into puberty.

I went all through sixth grade with no thoughts of deodorant. I'm not even sure I knew what BO was. My friends and I got kind of smelly when we played but it was a running and jumping boy smell, not a putrid body odor smell.

When I was getting my stuff together to start seventh grade my dad handed me a tube of stick deodorant. I looked at it, not sure what to do or say. "Keep that in your locker," he said. "Use it after you shower in PE every day."

I asked why. He said "Haven't you noticed? You're starting to get hair in your armpits." He walked away real fast like he had no intention of discussing it any further. I suspect it was my mother's idea.

Dare Ya to Drop 'em Here

The other David story I wanted to add was a time when his mom dropped the two of us off at the mall.

  We went in this one store because he did want to get a new pair of jeans. We were looking at all of them on the rack and he pulls out a pair in his size and says, "Dare me to try these on?" I looked at him kinda dumb, as to what the big deal was about that being a dare. So I asked him why that would be a dare? "Are you gonna try them on with no underpants on?" He replied to me, "No. Dare me to try them on...RIGHT HERE?"

It was already too late. He was kicking his shoes off and unbuckling his belt. He looked around to make sure nobody else was close to us, then down go his pants! Now he's standing there in just a t-shirt, socks, and his blue boxer-briefs! I whispered to him that he was CRAZY! He then walked over to another rack and said, "Maybe I should try on a shirt, too." With that, off comes his t-shirt! Now he's standing there in JUST his socks and underpants! We were out there in public, and it was the first time in my life I seriously thought we were going to get arrested or hauled away by store security. I quietly yelled at him to "Get dressed!" He did try on the jeans, walked around a bit with no shirt on, then took them off and did finally put all his clothes back on.

That night (it was a sleepover night), as we were getting ready for a hot time and he had me pull those blue underpants off of him, he said he was thinking about taking those off in the store, too. I told him I woulda just left him there! With a smile he said, "Maybe next time." (PS - He never did that, thank heaven!)

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Sharing Euphoria and a Wank

I'm enjoying these junior high tales, particularly since my family was transferred around so much during those years. I went to five schools from sixth through eighth grades, some of them civilian schools and others on-base schools operated by the military. Every school was completely different.

The most different of all was the one I attended for most of eighth grade. The base was in a tropical climate where plants and vines and strange trees covered everything. People were constantly pruning and digging out unwanted plants that threatened to take over yards and even houses. Saplings would sprout in the football field overnight. Not only were the plants aggressive, but the atmosphere was so humid it was like breathing swamp air.

Out in the middle of the school campus was a baseball field. There was a normal backstop behind home plate, between the field and the stands, plus a second very tall chain-link backstop screen behind the stands. The gym was located just past that second backstop. The entire chain-link screen was covered with vines and creepers, along with the insects, birds and varmints that lived in the vegetation.

A narrow, weedy, shadowy gap separated the gym from the vine-covered backstop. That gap was beloved by all the boys. If we had to pee during PE or while watching a baseball game, we slid into the gap instead of going to the restroom. We went far enough in to be concealed by the shadows. There we happily pissed without anybody knowing it.

A guy that I knew only slightly, Freddy, got hold of a joint somehow. During PE he asked me if I wanted to try a little puff with him. We slid into the gap and went far enough in to be invisible. I had never smoked so much as a filtered cigarette, and I doubt that Freddy had either. But we were eighth graders willing to try something that might spice up our lives as military dependents.

I liked to have gagged on the first mouthful of smoke, not knowing whether to open my mouth and let it escape, blow it out my nose, or (horrors!) inhale it. We stood watching each other with huge eyes and making Shhh motions with our fingers against our lips. We passed the smoldering joint back and forth. I was amazed at what we were doing but also badly scared because a dependent using any kind of drugs could get a kid's father in serious trouble with the commanding officer.

I kept staring at Freddy to see if anything was happening to him. I didn't know what to expect from the pot. Would I have immediate halucinations? Would I have a "trip?" Would I throw up? Would the two of us pass out?

What actually happened was that after sharing the joint for several minutes, we became so loopy that the slightest thing was absolutely hilarious. We laughed at everything and at nothing. Several minutes into our experiment Freddy said between laughs, "I think I'm gonna wet my pants." We laughed ourselves silly over that possibility. But in a minute he said "Gotta piss. Really. Make sure nobody's coming."

So he pulled down the front of his gym shorts and let a stream fly into the vines. We tried to keep from laughing out loud, but the sight of him with the joint hanging from his mouth and him holding his shorts down while the piss sprayed out of his exposed dick was another trigger for our laughter.

I don't think we'd inhaled enough to make us really stoned, but it was a new experience and our inhibitions had disappeared. We couldn't stop cracking up because everything was so freakin' funny.

We also tried to say very funny things. As Freddy pissed, I stared at his exposed peter and said something fairly stupid like "That's your.. that's your thingie." We nearly fell all over each other.

We were absolutely convulsing with silent laughter. Then he said, "Well where's yours? Don't you have one too?"

So of course I popped mine out and we laughed some more, leaning together and shaking with hilarity. By then I was thinking, why have I never realized that this guy is the best friend I've ever had? I have to show him how much I like him. There's only one thing to do, and I must do it. I've got to shoot wads with him.

He must have felt the same way because he started wiggling his dick around and letting it get hard. In seconds both of us had boners. We were still laughing as we stared and pointed at each other's erections. "You... you got a hard there," he told me between laughs. I probably responded with something equally inane.

Without any discussion, we began masturbating while poking each other, shaking with silent laughter and continuing to say Shhh. Ever so often one of us would get some halfway funny sentence out, like "You know what you're doin' ... you're jackin'. You, my friend, are jacking off."

Then Freddy had an idea. "Want to help me?" he asked, removing his hand from his dick and turning to face me, his erection pulsing up and down right in my line of sight. It sounded like a funny idea, the most hilarious idea yet. So we gave each other a moment of strokes and feelies, still overcome with laughter.

Freddy was the first one to ejaculate. He made a bunch of noises and told me "Look, look, look" as if he was doing a bike trick or something. His shot flew into the vines while he kept snickering. "Bullseye!" he told me, backing up to lean against the gym building while he shook his dick off.

I made a shot of my own, giggling like a girl while telling Freddy "It's coming! Watch!" and thinking "I never realized how funny jacking off is."

But the euphoria wore of pretty quick. Although Freddy and I occasionally raised an eyebrow at each other in school, we were never more than passing acquaintances who had momentarily lost our inhibitions while sharing a toke and a wank. And yet, all these years later, I remember every detail of that escapade with him.


Thunder Cloud

A Toke and a Wank

I'm enjoying these junior high tales, particularly since my family was transferred around so much during those years. I went to five schools from sixth through eighth grades, some of them civilian schools and others on-base schools operated by the military. Every school was completely different.

The most different of all was the one I attended for most of eighth grade. The base was in a tropical climate where plants and vines and strange trees covered everything. People were constantly pruning and digging out unwanted plants that threatened to take over yards and even houses. Saplings would sprout in the football field overnight. Not only were the plants aggressive, but the atmosphere was so humid it was like breathing swamp air.

Out in the middle of the school campus was a baseball field. There was a normal backstop behind home plate, between the field and the stands, plus a second very tall chain-link backstop screen behind the stands. The gym was located just past that second backstop. The entire chain-link screen was covered with vines and creepers, along with the insects, birds and varmints that lived in the vegetation.

A narrow, weedy, shadowy gap separated the gym from the vine-covered backstop. That gap was beloved by all the boys. If we had to pee during PE or while watching a baseball game, we slid into the gap instead of going to the restroom. We went far enough in to be concealed by the shadows. There we happily pissed without anybody knowing it.

A guy that I knew only slightly, Freddy, got hold of a joint somehow. During PE he asked me if I wanted to try a little puff with him. We slid into the gap and went far enough in to be invisible. I had never smoked so much as a filtered cigarette, and I doubt that Freddy had either. But we were eighth graders willing to try something that might spice up our lives as military dependents.

I liked to have gagged on the first mouthful of smoke, not knowing whether to open my mouth and let it escape, blow it out my nose, or (horrors!) inhale it. We stood watching each other with huge eyes and making Shhh motions with our fingers against our lips. We passed the smoldering joint back and forth. I was amazed at what we were doing but also badly scared because a dependent using any kind of drugs could get a kid's father in serious trouble with the commanding officer. 

I kept staring at Freddy to see if anything was happening to him. I didn't know what to expect from the pot. Would I have immediate halucinations? Would I have a "trip?" Would I throw up? Would the two of us pass out?

What actually happened was that after sharing the joint for several minutes, we became so loopy that the slightest thing was absolutely hilarious. We laughed at everything and at nothing. Several minutes into our experiment Freddy said between laughs, "I think I'm gonna wet my pants." We laughed ourselves silly over that possibility. But in a minute he said "Gotta piss. Really. Make sure nobody's coming."

So he pulled down the front of his gym shorts and let a stream fly into the vines. We tried to keep from laughing out loud, but the sight of him with the joint hanging from his mouth and him holding his shorts down while the piss sprayed out of his exposed dick was another trigger for our laughter.

I don't think we'd inhaled enough to make us really stoned, but it was a new experience and our inhibitions had disappeared. We couldn't stop cracking up because everything was so freakin' funny.

We also tried to say very funny things. As Freddy pissed, I stared at his exposed peter and said something fairly stupid like "That's your.. that's your thingie." We nearly fell all over each other.
 We were absolutely convulsing with silent laughter. Then he said, "Well where's yours? Don't you have one too?"

So of course I popped mine out and we laughed some more, leaning together and shaking with hilarity. By then I was thinking, why have I never realized that this guy is the best friend I've ever had? I have to show him how much I like him. There's only one thing to do, and I must do it. I've got to shoot wads with him.

He must have felt the same way because he started wiggling his dick around and letting it get hard. In seconds both of us had boners. We were still laughing as we stared and pointed at each other's erections. "You... you got a hard there," he told me between laughs. I probably responded with something equally inane.

Without any discussion, we began masturbating while poking each other, shaking with silent laughter and continuing to say Shhh. Ever so often one of us would get some halfway funny sentence out, like "You know what you're doin' ... you're jackin'. You, my friend, are jacking off."

Then Freddy had an idea. "Want to help me?" he asked, removing his hand from his dick and turning to face me, his erection pulsing up and down right in my line of sight. It sounded like a funny idea, the most hilarious idea yet. So we gave each other a moment of strokes and feelies, still overcome with laughter.

Freddy was the first one to ejaculate. He made a bunch of noises and told me "Look, look, look" as if he was doing a bike trick or something. His shot flew into the vines while he kept snickering. "Bullseye!" he told me, backing up to lean against the gym building while he shook his dick off.

I made a shot of my own, giggling like a girl while telling Freddy "It's coming! Watch!" and thinking "I never realized how funny jacking off is." 

But the euphoria wore of pretty quick. Although Freddy and I occasionally raised an eyebrow at each other in school, we were never more than passing acquaintances who had momentarily lost our inhibitions while sharing a toke and a wank. And yet, all these years later, I remember every detail of that escapade with him.
 

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Featuring Some Nice Comments

Here we are featuring a pair of nice comments, that I liked on this story. Also be sure to post and read other guys comments about those times in the Lockers.
Eric


Comment #1
Concerning the army thread, it was well known at our school (small district with 7th through 12th all in one building) that the coach was a Master Sergeant before he left military service. He was very much a "drop and give me twenty" man who seemed to be everywhere at the same time; gym, locker room, track, etc. He ran the phys ed and sports programs with the precision of basic training. He didn't believe in useless discipline such as staying after school or writing lines. His discipline was productive assignments such as tightening the bolts on the bleachers or scrubbing the grout in the shower walls with toothbrushes. 

Photo by Will McBride




Comment #2
I must have caught the tail end of having to strip naked after PE. I Was year 6 and 7.

 After sports we would be made to strip and the PE Teacher would stand at the entrance to the showers and make sure everyone got naked and showered. Not getting naked was not a choice. I always felt uneasy getting naked in front of the other boys, maybe this was because nudity was not the norm in my family, I never even saw my dad in shorts ever. Anyway this stopped in year 8, which I was glad for. I was a slow developer and then it meant I didn't have to show myself in front of boys who already had a full bush of pubes. 

Years later I found out that the PE teacher who made us strip got caught having sex with a 16 year old boy. I don't know what happened to him.