Thursday, March 24, 2016

Coming Out Young (A Scarey Option)

Wonder why nobody has commented on this question? Here's my 2-cents worth:

It is very possible for a young boy to be mistaken about being gay. Many (probably most) boys experiment with their friends before being attracted to girls. Those early years (11, 12, 13, maybe even up to 15) are a time of sharing sexual intimacy with best friends and even slight acquaintances.

Many boys are so horny at that age that they wonder about every boy they know-

Does he do it?
Does he do it with other guys?
Is there a chance he'll do it with me?
 How can I find out?

At the same time, girls are still very mysterious and frightening to them.

My feeling is that a young straight boy may erroneously believe himself to be gay because his only experiences so far have been with other males.

When the hormones really kick in and he begins to be comfortable socializing with the other sex, he will see girls in a completely different way. And if he has made the "gay announcement" he will have a lot of backtracking to do.

A number of comments on this site have mentioned masturbation pals who suddenly discover the other side of the street and abandon their jacking buddies. That's normal for straight boys.

If it was up to me to counsel a boy (which it isn't, thank goodness) I would tell him to keep his mouth shut until his late teens.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

How Every Boy's The Same (Part II)

 Part II- continued from Part I

 In the shower room I pulled my underwear off, feeling extremely embarrassed while waiting my turn. I was frightened that I might see something that would get me in trouble. I kept my eyes tightly focused on my own little segment of the bench. One of the older boys who was a shower monitor for us little dudes yelled “Next!” I was scared to move. “Hey, you, you with the blue towel! Your turn!”

With my embarrassed little dick trying to shrink into my body, I trudged self-consciously to the shower where the monitor was holding the curtain back. There were naked boys all around us. I was using every ounce of my will-power not to look at them, meanwhile wondering if they were looking at me.

By the second night I was a little more relaxed. I’d been thinking about the different sizes of underwear and trying to figure the correlation between penises and the small-medium-large designations. While waiting my turn to shower I dared to flash my eyes around a little although keeping my head aimed at the floor. Yep, some penises were larger or smaller than others. How did mine measure up? I was too mortified at my nakedness to make any comparisons.

When the lights went off that night some of the kids started a commotion. It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on. They were removing the underpants off of a boy! And then off of more boys! They called it “de-pantsing.” Pretty soon the whole cabin was in an uproar. Several boys were de-pantsed, mostly on the side of the cabin where the bigger boys slept. Underwear was tossed across the room from one boy to another. Somebody’s briefs landed right next to me. I picked them up and furtively looked at the size. "--Large--"......Hrmm, Using my immature line of reasoning, I deduced that somewhere out in the room was a boy with a large penis and no underwear.

We were quieted by the counselor but I still had that pair of large whitie-tighties. What should I do with them? Clearly I needed to get them back to their owner, but who was he? That problem was solved when a big boy came walking from bed to bed asking “Who’s got my shorts?” He was holding his T-shirt down with both hands to cover his crotch.

“Are these them?” I asked.

“Thank you,” he said in a funny way like an animated character on TV. Then, standing right by my bed, he released his hold on the shirt. What I saw astounded me. The shirt slid up making his penis visible. I stared. Instead of hanging down it stuck straight out from his body and bobbed around while he moved. What’s more, there was some curly hair visible above it. He shook the briefs out and stepped into them with first one leg and then the other, his stiff-looking penis making all sorts of waving and poking motions while he moved. As he pulled the undies around his butt, he reached into them and repositioned his protruding penis. It made a bulging diagonal ridge in his underpants.

“Thank you,” he said again, dodging his eyes and headed for the other side of the room while rubbing the ridge in his underpants.

Nothing nasty or abusive happened to me at camp, but I went home a lot wiser and more curious than before. In the space of a few brief days camp had become the focal point of life for me. I waited impatiently through all the weeks and months from one year to the next, year after year. Each camp was more educational than the one before. Somewhere around age 12 I graduated to “large” underwear and developed nice stiffies of my own which required secret attention when other guys de-pantsed me, as well as when I helped de-pants somebody else. It was the normal progression of a boy’s discovery of himself, and I pin its beginnings to staring at an underwear rack before my first camp.

The End


How Every Boy's the Same

First Part-

 I came across a box of old snapshots recently while cleaning out my grandmother’s apartment. Two of the photos took me back many years, and they are the background for what you’re about to read. The pictures were snaps of us young boys lined up in front of cedar bushes at a church camp. I was nine and had just completed the third grade. We were all friends, all first-time campers. We look like we were having the time of our lives - happy grins, big smiles, a little mischief in our hearts.

What really surprises me is how immature and “little-boyish” we obviously were at that age. Face it, we were nothing but little dweebs. That’s funny, because I thought of myself back then as big stuff for going to camp.

Getting ready for camp had already given me a strange “learning experience” that made me conscious of my anatomy in a new way. My mother wanted to make sure I had enough clothes for the week. We went shopping and stocked up on T-shirts, shorts, socks. The basics. While in line at the checkout counter, Mom turned to me and whispered, “Underwear! Run back to the boys’ department and get yourself a package of three underwear!”

I had no experience shopping and was confronted by a whole rack of packaged boys’ skivvies. And as I looked at the display of so many boys’ underpants, plus the pictures of boys modeling them, something strange clicked in my mind. Not just me, but EVERY BOY wore these underpants! I was staring at package after package of Y-fronts, boxers, you name it. An unimaginable variety of underwear that set me thinking: some boy is going to wear these, going to put them on, and his PENIS will be inside them! Every boy has a penis! It was an amazing thought that I couldn’t shake. I became conscious of my own penis even though it was properly tucked away inside my clothes.

Not knowing the size or brand that I wore, I had to hurry back to my mother and get further instructions. There were people all around. She bent down and whispered, “Boys Small. Fruit of the Loom.” Back to the underwear display. Boys Large. Boys Medium. Boys Small. Boys Extra Small. Did that mean boys’ penises were large, medium, small, extra small? Is mine small? Is that why I wear small underpants? Was that a defect? Was there anything I should do about it?

When we got to camp and I found out that everybody slept in one big room full of bunk beds, I was on the verge of panic. It was not only the bunk-room that made me nervous, but also the wide open bathroom. I had a private bedroom at home. Where would I change clothes here? How could  pull my underwear off in front of everybody else? And then a desperate thought: maybe I could just wear the same clothes all week.

It came time to shower that first evening. The counselor explained our routine. We would strip to our underwear at our bunk. We would take our soap, towel and clean underwear to the shower room. We would place everything on the bench in the middle of the room. Then we would take off our old underwear, pick up our soap, keep our eyes off of other people, and enter a shower stall. After the shower we returned to the bench where we toweled off and put on our fresh undies.

There were about 20 or 25 boys in the cabin. They were quickly bare except for their underpants, and I was staring at them. Not at their underpants, but at their chests. Their navels were visible. Their two little male nipples were visible. Their entire upper bodies were bare - and so was mine. Things that were not supposed to be seen! So many bare tummies. So many sets of boy-tits. So many elastic waistbands where their tummies ended and their - their - whatever was below - began! I felt bad about looking and forced myself to keep my eyes on my own business.

To be continued -


(Part I of II)

Friday, March 11, 2016

The Condom Caper

Growing up, I had a sister who was three years older than me. I don’t think we ever got along well. She used to tease me and criticize me, and I pretty much hated her. When I was in ninth grade and she was a senior, both our parents worked so after school we would be home alone. Or, I should say, home and unsupervised. In early November her boyfriend started coming home with her after school, and it didn’t take very long before they started regularly having sex together in her bedroom. They would do it almost every day. I’d hear the noises, the bed rhythmically squeaking and banging against the wall, and my sister making regular little grunting noises, “uh, uh, uh,” apparently with each stroke when he pushed it in. I was dealing with my own developing sexual identity and I knew what another boy looked like when he was about to squirt his load because in seventh and eighth grade I had had a number of mutual experiences like that. The thought of my sister having sex was totally disgusting, but I did wonder what her boyfriend’s erection looked like, how big it was, wondering if he ever masturbated, and what it looked like and felt like when he finally squirted his cum. It used to get me pretty turned on. I started lying on my bed in my room where I could hear them while they were doing it, and I had some fantastic climaxes while imagining mostly her boyfriend’s cock.

But I really got to despise my sister. She pretty well threatened my life if I ever told our parents that she and her boyfriend were having sex, and I was somehow enough intimidated by her that, as much as I hated her, I could never tell my parents what a whore and a slut she was. Her boyfriend was kind of cocky too, and I have burned into my brain the time when I was standing in the bathroom, their door opened, he walked out and directly into the bathroom wearing just his underpants, and very visibly so I could see it, dropped his used condom into the toilet and flushed it away. He didn’t say anything to me, just looked at me and smiled. But I spent most of the time staring at the bulge in his pants, and the fact that I could even see the outline of his penis head. The penis he had just used to bang my sister.

This is when I started to do some pretty nasty things, because I so badly wanted our parents to discover that the two of them were screwing, but without actually telling them. I also wanted to get back at my sister, and maybe make her worry and sweat a little bit, too. Occasionally, after the two of them would leave the house, I started going into her room and masturbating on her bed sheets. They were colored sheets, like mine, and I knew that dried semen on my sheets left white crusty stains and this is exactly what I wanted to be on her sheets as well. I was dearly hoping that mom would discover them, or that my sister would find the wet spots and begin to worry that maybe his condom sometimes had fallen off. I would also search her room, under and around her bed, hoping someday to find a condom wrapper or some other “evidence” of their sexual mischief. And one day, I did find one! A few days later, after their usual routine, after I heard the toilet flush and they left the house, I carefully placed the torn open condom wrapper on the floor in the bathroom right next to the waste can. What luck and what revenge. Later that day, mom found it! Oh what fireworks went on in the house that night. She was denying everything. My dad threatened to kill the boy. She even started accusing me, that it was my condom wrapper or I must have placed it there. I was able to put on a smirky smile, and since my parents knew I clearly did not have a girlfriend, I made the snarky comment, “Ain’t my condom. I don’t even know what they look like.”

Now that we are adults, I have two kids and my sister has two divorces. Our only contact is pretty much an annual Christmas card. Serves her right for how she treated me.


Wednesday, March 9, 2016

A Share and Update

Just a real quick update for State of the Blog address.

February was a wildly popular month here for OOTS4U(.x). We featured 21 new stories, which has not occurred since January of 2014.  In addition to that, our traffic counts are actually higher for the month than ever before at OOTS4U. So I am sure all of you appreciate the frequency of regular stories submitted, and the kind interest and conversation of those who posted comments too. The recent augmentations of the blog show that you may also like the opportunity to tick off the general comment boxes on the bottom of each post. I hope some of you are using the Labels feature if you do searches.

So Yay & Woop-Woop all is good here.

I am going to shelve a recent story that arrived today,  to escalate this post.

Let me briefly introduce that this is about a real boy and the issues he faced when he boldly announced he was GAY at the tender age of 12. I know there are loads of coming-out stories, and some of you may have your own proud moments yourselves. I would be grateful if you share them.

 But for now I ask you to watch this Video put together by none-Other than ESPN themselves. Yes the boy is a Gay athlete. However despite the story being somewhat steeped in sports,  the messages contained in this vid are very moving and inspiring, for youth, coaches and parents alike.

Please watch.

Kind Thanks,

Sunday, March 6, 2016

A Twist on Comics

New Topic: Boys in the comics...

I have enjoyed reading the comic strips ever since I was a little thing. As I got bigger (into teenage era) I wondered about the boys in various strips. Perhaps you could call it fantasizing, but I imagined the guys being aware of their sexuality.

Years have gone by and I still wonder. Curtis is only 11 years old, but I wonder if he waits till his little brother is asleep and then enjoys a nice wank. Or maybe at his age he just has to tolerate boners in his pants. And what about his friendship with the strange guy Gunk? Do they ever, you know........ play around?

The guy named Jason in Foxtrot is besties with Marcus. Surely they have a life besides homework and rocket launches and bugging big sister. Maybe they tickle each other during sleepovers? Maybe their scientific experiments take a private turn?

The teen guys ramp the fantasy to a higher level. Does Baldo take care of himself after flirting with that cute chick? Or do he and Cruz have a mutual assistance agreement and a private place to hang out?

And what about Jeremy in Zits? He must be one highly frustrated young male. One of these days his mother is going to stride into his room to get him up, and find his covers pounding up and down like a jackhammer. And while we're talking about Jeremy, how far do he and Hector go? Or Pierce? Likely those guys have been naked together under various circumstances. Are they aware of each other's needs?

Jus' messin' with your head, guys!


Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Damn the Pajamas

This pajama thread-- I've been trying to pin down how old I was for my first sleep-away camp.

 I think maybe seven or eight. I was only gone for one night but it was my first night away from my parents or extended family. It was a major event in my young life. My mother packed pajamas for me. I got them out at bedtime, intending to put them on. But the older and more experienced boys (one or two years older than us little guys) walked around in their whitie tighties. They climbed into bed the same way-- without pajamas.

 I wasn't about to let anybody think I was a baby. After considering the situation for about a second, I crammed the pajamas back in my duffle and stood around making sure everybody saw me in my underpants.

That was the nearest thing to a sexual event that I had at that early age. I felt sly, daring and sinful, all of that. But also "big" as hell for abandoning my pajamas!


Tuesday, March 1, 2016

My Best Basketball Lesson

You guys saying you got started in sixth grade. Reminds me, I was also in sixth and on a Y basketball team.

 We went to a whole day of games out of town. At this one college with a big gym. There were a lot of teams, and many boys. I went in the restroom to crap.

There was a strange hole from the stall, looking directly where you could see the urinals. A kid came in, with a bright green jersey and shorts. I had been looking in the hole every time any guys came in. This Green dude goes to a urinal, just real quick he pulls up his shirt and tucked it up under his chin. Then he pulls out the front of his shorts. I'm thinking WTF because his dick sticks straight out and it is pretty long, which seems funny to me to see that. He grabbed his dick and started doing back and forth movements on it. I am still WTF because my young mind never knowing about jerking off.

  So I get a boner, which I thought was funny because he had one too. He's busy jerking his dick constantly standing a little back from urinal and going at it and sometimes thrusting his hips forward.. Then his body jerks forward even further, and all of a sudden his boner shot this stuff into the pisser and all on the floor too.
 Right away he shakes his dick and he is gone!

 I didn't do anything for a while. A little confused, or maybe amazed I went back to my team. But I still had this bad boner, and it was staying hard all the time.

 It was maybe an hour later, I found myself back in there. Sitting on the can to play with my boner. Thinking about that dude. I thought, what if I do that to my dick. Like a champ, I start stroking like I had seen that kid do. Then it happens all in a hurry. First thing I feel, I think oh-oh, I'm getting sick, maybe I'll pass out. Then I get really scared because of it getting worse. I think, what is this! All of a freakin second it comes!

 My entire body feels bad crazy while stuff is shooting out my dick and squirt all over. That never happened before! I think that for a minute, that was wild! But, I knew it was best not to ever mess with your dick like that again. Stuff running down the wall! Also on myself!

So I sit there a long time until I started feeling better. It is maybe a week later I think what if I do that again. That time it it felt okay and was glad I found out about it.