Thursday, April 27, 2017

Finding Hunter and his Suits of Discovery



By the time I was in ninth grade I had a regular jack-off buddy, a fellow-student at the American school in Mexico where my father's job took us.

Hunter was Canadian. He was more muscular than I was, a little heavier, and had more body hair. He also had a larger, more mature dick compared to mine. We wanked together in the gym restroom nearly every school day, but with a peculiar twist: We did not touch each other. We simply pumped out our individual loads together. Usually we stood facing each other in order to watch the action while we jacked. Occasionally one of us would sit on a toilet  with his pants down and his shirt up, providing a more erotic vision for the other guy. We used grunts and sighs to communicate our impending climaxes. But Hunter had an unspoken rule that kept us from trying to feel of each other's junk.

Aside from our mutual masturbation routine, Hunter and I had little in common. It was as if that single need to experience a daily climax pulled us together for a few minutes and then sent us on our separate ways after our joint ejaculations. He was athletic, hard-muscled and outspoken while I was a relatively gentle bookworm. The only thing we had in common was jacking off.

So it was unusual when Hunter asked me if I'd like to go home with him some afternoon. We worked it out with our parents and the school administration. A driver from the Canadian consulate picked Hunter up and delivered him home after school every day. I went along on the day that we'd agreed on.

It was soon clear why Hunter was so muscular. He had a two-room suite that was full of body-building equipment from weights to an elaborate workout bike and a rugged-looking thing that he called a home gym. He also had a closet full of sports outfits and team uniforms for every Canadian team you could think of. And the suite featured its own bathroom.

At Hunter's suggestion we changed from our school uniforms into athletic gear. First came basketball jerseys. We went outside to shoot a few hoops. Then we changed into hockey outfits and messed with a couple of sticks. He seemed to become aroused by each of the uniforms, frequently adjusting his junk and asking me if the gear fit my crotch okay.

Next Hunter pulled out a couple of wrestling singlets, one-piece stretchy garments. "You can't wear your shorts under these," he told me, pointing to my boxers. As we changed into the singlets in front of each other it was clear that Hunter's prick was in a sort of half-hard state, appearing thick and heavy but not yet actually erect.

I wiggled into a bright blue singlet, a lustrous sheen of thin fabric. Hunter's was shiny orange. We faced off and squirmed around on his floor, trying to put moves on each other. Apparently he didn't know much more about wrestling than I did, except that we were supposed to get our opponent's shoulders pinned. I seemed to have an advantage, being lighter and quicker. Hunter spent more time adjusting the front of his singlet than actually grappling with me.

Soon Hunter crawled away, panting. . He sat on the floor in his one-piece orange outfit and leaned against his bed getting his breath. He became preoccupied with his privates. The outfits were skin-tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. Hunter tucked and re-tucked the suit's crotch around his balls. He prodded his stiffening peter to various angles, eventually settling on a totally vertical position. He squeezed his bulge several times and spread his knees as if exhibiting the unmistakable penis-shaped lump in his singlet as a work of art.

Meanwhile I'd caught a boner myself.

"That's a nice look," Hunter told me, staring at my bulge while squeezing his own linear lump. We watched each other, both of us babying our concealed erections.

"You want to do something for me?" Hunter asked. His voice was a little constrained, containing a hint of nervousness.

"What?"

"Give me a little squeeze?"

"Sure." This was abnormal, since Hunter had been the one who balked at us ever touching anything that was off-limits. The guy that had jacked with me dozens of times seemed transported to a different world now that our stiff peters were trapped in the tight, clingy singlets. I felt my own dick rising to its final stiffness, inflexible to its full extent as I reached for Hunter's clearly outlined boner.  "How's that?"

"Oh! Good! Do it again?"

I gave him a couple more squeezes and wondered if Hunter played with these singlets when he was alone. Obviously he didn't really wrestle; it seemed that he just enjoyed the feel of the satin-like material on the critical parts of his body. As for me, those singlets were the most revealing gear I'd ever seen. The sensuous fabric that stretched across my crotch gave me strange tingles and horny sensations.

Now, starting with a loose grip, Hunter began masturbating his dick. Or rather, he began masturbating the lump of Lycra that contained his dick. His hand was on the outside of the garment while his dick was on the inside. He moved the hand back and forth at a slow pace, back and forth on the big lump, encouraging his cum-shooter to become more and more aroused.

I did the same, knowing that I would soon climax if we kept this up. I looked around the room for tissues or towels but saw none.

"I'm gonna shoot in a minute," I told Hunter. "Need something to cum in."

Hunter was now leaning back against the bed, dragging his finger tips slowly back and forth along his clearly-defined bulge. The outline of his large dickhead was clearly recognizable at the top of his shaft. The Lycra displayed every curve of his erect organ plus the softer rounded mass of his balls. His mouth was partway open, his eyes closed, his fingers on auto-pilot.

"In the bathroom," he said. But then he added "Just do it in the suit. It's cool that way."

Hunter rearranged his dick again. Now it stuck out, straining against the restraint of the singlet. It made an unmistakable tent, holding the fabric up in a rounded cone. Hunter wrapped his hand around the cone, pulling the fabric tightly around his erect dick. His hand began to jiggle, sort of vibrating the hidden dick without really pumping it.

"I love singlets," he whispered, continuously jiggling himself.

I was still looking for something to cum in. Shooting a load inside the singlet didn't appeal to me, but I didn't want to miss Hunter's action by leaving him and going to the bathroom. Hunter continued to stimulate his orange-clad erection, now taking traditional strokes on it. The bright point of his dickhead become visible with every downstroke and disappeared into his fist on each upstroke.

He began to make strange unarticulated noises, sort of "Huh, huh, hah."

"Watch," he told me, jiggling a little faster. "Watch! Huh! Huh!"

The tip of Hunter's Lycra cone turned a darker orange as if a couple of drops of water had been released. The dark spot became wider and wider, obviously wet. Then, suddenly, as Hunter exhaled noisily, a flood of white cum oozed completely through the stretchy orange material and into the outside world. "It's cumming", he said, a little late. He tensed up. More cum oozed out. It ran slowly across Hunter's singlet, white globs leaving thick trails behind. Still more white stuff appeared through the saturated fabric. He was breathing sort of raggedly, making sounds but not words.


Hunter's ejaculation pushed me to the brink. I rubbed my hand back and forth on the bump in my singlet, looking forward to a good orgasm but wishing I had my hand on my dick instead of the singlet. When my climax came I felt the warm goosh of a major load of semen enveloping my dick while only a few drops came through the material. Maybe I didn't hold the singlet as tightly around my dick as Hunter did.

Hunter and I continued to jack off in the gym restroom at school. We still did not touch each other during those encounters, but looked all we wanted. From time to time I went home with him and we masturbated in various sports gear such as baggy basketball shorts, designer jockstraps, tight swimsuits and even simple gray warm-ups.

Hunter's favorite was clearly the singlets and he would almost apologetically ask me to squeeze him when he was erect in a shiny, bright colored wrestling outfit. "Heh!" he would whisper as the sensations gripped him. Then he'd jiggle himself to a climax and his cum would ooze thickly right through the fabric and make runny white trails across the neon suit.

AS

Monday, April 24, 2017

Victory and Pain of Paintball Battles

I recently had a work trip that was quite close to some of my relatives whom I had not seen in a couple of years. So I took the opportunity to spend the remainder of the week-end with them. They are very social with all of their neighbors and apparently there are house guests from the neighborhood almost every night for a beer or just to chat. It was Friday night with a few of the regulars on hand. One lady's son came by to pick up money to go out with his buddies.

 I noticed he showed up alone, he introduced himself as Daniel. Sadly he was only there a short while and left in about 5 minutes, with his cash.  He was dressed a little typical to country boys. Tight jeans, Boots and the essential cowboy hat. His body was very lean. He looked 14 in his face, still very smooth with slightly rosy cheeks, full lips, light brown hair and dark eyes. However but he was fairly tall. I suspected that perhaps he had driven himself, so maybe he was older.  My cousin later told me a bit more about those neighbors as they come over to visit often. He said the boy was driving age, they had bought him a truck, so he would be at least 16. Although he was kind of a country bump-kin, I secretly thought he was cute.

Well, that same woman came back Saturday afternoon with her husband (the Dad of the boy). A short while later their boy stopped-in also. This time I saw him drive up in his Pick-up truck, he was without the Cowboy hat and wearing more common attire and a fishing cap.
 Daniel stayed longer and was happily talking about his day. He had gone to play paint-ball with some friends, of which he was the victor. The buddies were beat, but stayed after they left, to play another round of paint-ball with some older guys (whom he said were like pro's). He said those guys were vary tactical. His reward for staying on, was a few bruises where he had been hit. He first showed us the cherry on his side, it was a decent little whelp and the rosy red tender-spot. It looked painful against his smooth lightly padded muscles. He mentioned that he received a pink splatter on the seat of his pants, right below his belt line. Hrmm, right between the cheeks. I was thinking he might pull down his pants slightly and show us that,  but he said it was not really bruised and didn't even feel that hit. Damn Bravery.....


 However all hope was not lost, a few minutes later we were all in the house, he mentioned to his parents he had also had a tender spot on the thigh. Then Bam!! he just unsnaps his pants, unzips then drops his jeans to his knees to show us the quarter sized bruise on a very rail-thin but smooth pale boy thigh. I noticed of course that he was wearing boxers, and I could see a slight bulge of his soft cock as he maneuvered his hand lower to point out the bruise. Aside from the length of his legs, he still resembled a 14 year old to me. I was a little shocked how brazen he was since I was virtually a stranger, and here he is down to his skivvies right in the living room of his neighbor's house. He slowly lifted up his jeans after everyone had a good look at his injury, He reached in his jeans to straighten out the boxer legs, buttoned his pants, arranged his shirt and the show was over as suddenly as it began. I was speechless.

Okay it would have been way better if he was wearing jocks, or boxer briefs, but hey I still got to see the outline of his 16-er noodle. It was about the size of a 14-er as well.

 Apparently he likes to spend loads of time with his Buddy Travis, and another friend often too. Actually we all know that hanging out with buds is typical of that age teen. However, that doesn't hinder my naughty imagination....just think maybe they wank together or perhaps other sexy stuff.

Eric

Sunday, April 23, 2017

What would you have done?

I had a real good friend during the years I was in junior high. We sometimes rode the bus or sometimes walked to the mall on Saturdays. One time when we went to the restroom at the mall my friend kept standing at the urinal longer than usual. I zipped up and waited for him. After a moment he said, "I can't get my thing to go down." He said it very soft and sounded worried. Another minute and he told me to look at it.

We were not dick buddies, just good friends. I had not yet learned about jacking off and I'm sure he hadn't either. I stepped next to him and looked. His dick was sticking straight out. He wiggled it and repeated to me, "I can't get it to go down."

I didn't know what to say or do. Soon he put his boner away and we went back to the arcade. I guess it stayed stiff for a while.

It was hours later when we were back at his house. I asked if his thing ever went down. He told me yes without any further details.

That was the only time anything remotely sexy happened between us. The sight of his hard dick stayed on my mind. I wanted to see it again, or maybe let him see mine. But I was afraid he would get bad vibes. I was insecure about how he might react. We kept on being good friends but nothing sexy ever happened again.

What would you have done?

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Madame Mayhem and The Boys Shower Incident

Years ago when we still had an open campus and parents could walk in and out whenever they wanted to.
A student in one of my classes was being raised by his grandmother. He had little regard for rules and other students alike.  The grandmother seemed in denial of the hellion she was responsible for. She was well-known for trying to run everything she was involved in, keeping the city council and school board stirred up among other things.

If the kid got in trouble at school or earned a bad grade, she would make an appointment and come striding through the halls looking for that particular teacher. She always said that she'd come to "Get this injustice straightened-out." I had the joy of crossing swords with her a couple of times. It was often that we had to referee incidents of him harassing other kids, which he denied fault, blaming even smaller kids for attacking him. The kid was a lazy party-boy with plenty of money, armed with distracting gadgets and a complete absence of restrictions. It was rare for him to hand in homework or participate in class.

On one occasion, the little jerk earned an F in Phys Ed. The old lady went hunting the coach and marched right into a locker room full of naked boys at shower time. Based on amused conversation in the faculty lounge, she screamed and ran out the nearest exit, without any opportunity to scold the coach in her flight of copious embarrassment.

Wish I could say the experience cured her of stirring things up at school, but she still showed up every few days to defend her useless grandson.

A number of years later the old woman died and her name came up in conversation again, including the locker room episode. The coach laughed and said,
 "Who do you think told her when and where to show up for that appointment?"

Anonymous

Sunday, April 16, 2017

5 Boys in the Care of Uncle Carlo

Summer 2015 -

The summer of 2015 was extremely hot in Poland. It was hard to survive in the city, but my holiday plans lied in ruins. I planned to go for two weeks with my girlfriend to the lake region, but unexpectedly she was sent by her office abroad for long three weeks. We promised each other to postpone our vacations.

A couple of days later I received a random phone call. It was a wife of my friend, who died in car accident three years before. I used to call her every Christmas and birthday with best wishes and usual chitchat, nothing special. That evening she called for help. She was a freelance landscape architecture and needed to go to another city for a week to take care of new, profitable project. She asked me to come to her house for that period to take care of her two twin sons.

Goodness! The last thing I dreamed of was taking care of two kids! But she insisted and tempted me by a forest full of native fruits and mushrooms. She knew that I like walking in the woods. I packed my bag and drove to the rural wooded region of her home. I arrived after the midnight. The home is a nice, quite big cottage-style house. She showed me the kitchen and huge fridge, which was almost empty.
- Sorry, I learned about the confirmation of the project so late that I had no time to do any shopping. You can buy whatever you and boys need, in that shop you passed by coming here. She left me quite thick envelope with money, and a sheet of paper with written instructions.
- You can use my van, it has seven seats.
- I can use my car, it’s not that big, but should be good for three of us – I said
- Oh, I didn’t tell you. My boys agreed to stay without me, but forced me to invite their  friends from Soccer. The three of them arrived one hour before you did. They are sleeping upstairs.
Nice! I was perfidiously framed in the care of five kids!
She saw my face and laughed
- Don’t worry, they are all good kids. Just do not let them question your decisions. They are told to obey your orders!
She showed me my room, a kiss on the cheek and left. I saw another car, which arrived to pick her up.

I woke up at six o’clock in the morning, as usual. I went to the kitchen hoping that she was not out of coffee. I had luck! There was a coffee machine! Still a bit bleary-eyed, I randomly pressed one button and heard the pleasant sound of a coffee grinder loaded with product, and a minute later I had my espresso. Sipping coffee I looked-out through a big window, and tried to keep calm. What has my deceased friend’s widow talked me into, watching after five young kids!  How old they are? Five, or maybe seven years old? The last time I saw them they were in diapers! My self-pity was suddenly broken by a rumble I heard from upstairs. I rushed into my room, as I was in just skivvies!

When dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, I emerged from my room to see… five teen boys!
- Good morning Uncle Carlo!
- Hi guys! – I answered surveying this group of young fellows.
- You boys have grown up a bit. Last time I saw you,  you were kids were in diapers. Now I see nice, handsome teenagers. They laughed and said
- No, we don’t use diapers since some time. We are fourteen. Mark and Andrew introduced to me their friends Richard, Paul and Dominik. All of them had briefs only and I eventually I got a good look at each of them. Fuck! They looked sixteen years old, well built and really handsome.

- There is nothing to eat, we have to go shopping. Be ready in five minutes – I said.
Waiting for the boys, I cleaned my coffee cup and stepped on something laying on floor close to washing machine. I picked up a boy’s sock, which most probably missed the laundry. The sock had unmistakably evidence of boy’s sexual activity! I throw it into the washing machine and me and the boys left for shopping.
The town’s only shop, half an hour away, wasn’t big, but well stocked with a good variety of needs the rural community might need.

The boys made wise decisions for healthy meals, yet I noticed the cart still included delicious yeast rolls filled with chocolate pudding, and five carefully hidden candy bars in the bottom of the grocery pile. I paid for the whole lot, and we headed to the van. As they were loading the bags, I excused myself a moment, and returned to the shop. I had noticed something in the corner of my eye. I bought ten small soft towels, meant for cleaning car windows. They cost almost nothing. I bagged them and returned to the van of the young gentlemen, all quietly munching on those chocolate yeast rolls. I questioned if the junk-food was to serve as breakfast. All five voices objected, one added that they would cook and eat whatever food I selected to serve on the breakfast plate, joined by the remaining four in agreement.

The sandy road toward the house, led us close to a small lake. Boys convinced me to stop there. They jumped out of the van, pulled their t-shirts and shorts and run into the water in briefs only. For first fifty meters the water was shallow, up to their knees. For more than half an hour, the boys were fooling-about, splashing water at each other and wrestling. I watched them and remember times when I was their age and played with my friends, the only difference that back then we were then totally nude. I was curious if those boys ever skinny dipped. The answer I got later.

They left the water and without any shame pulled down their briefs, squeezed out the water, put on the shorts and huddled around me
- Can we go home for breakfast, uncle Carlo? We are really hungry!
I was amazed watching five fourteen year old boys preparing their breakfast. They worked the kitchen like experienced cooks! The sandwiches and scrambled eggs with ham and tomatoes were delicious.
- How came that five young boys move in a kitchen like professional cooks? – I asked.
- Five times we were all together at scout camps and all boys have to take a turn working in the kitchen. Next month we are going again for two weeks – answered Dominik.
- You like those camps?
- Oh yeah! It’s boys only camp, located in forest close to the lake and we have a lot of fun there – said Mark.
- Also we learn there many things, like open water swimming, volleyball, how to set up tents, build a bonfire, with baked potatoes and sausage buried under stones in foil.
- Most of the time us boys go skinny dipping there – added Andrew.
- I never was at scout’s camp, but with a bunch of my friends we skinny dipped too – I said.
- Uncle Carlo, what for you bought so many rags? – asked Mark pulling out my towelettes from the bag.

- OK. boys. I bought them for all of you. Your Mom’s may not have a clue, but I know what a causes a smelly wet sock. So no more sticky socks, stained bed sheets, or any other signs of your wanking on the floor or furniture. Use those rags, which you have to wash yourself. I looked at the boys with a confident grin on my face. Firstly they flushed red faces, later lower their eyes and kept silent.
- Come on, boys! I was teenager like you are and, all my friends wanked several times a day. It’s absolute normal. Just think about your mother. Perhaps she knows you are jerking off, but it’s not so pleasant for her to touch your stinky and sticking socks or bed sheets, while putting them into the washing machine.

- How would you know, about our mother?
I told them about dirty sock I found that morning.
- Did you watch a porn, when you were young, Mister Carlo? – asked Richard
-First, if you wish you all can call me just Carlo. Uncle makes me feel very old – I smiled.
- Secondly, when I was at your age there was no Internet, computer, even video, and no any sex shop in Poland. It was hard times for young boys. I was lucky, because I smuggled one, a fifteen minute porn movie on 8 mm tape. All my friends wanted to see it and we jerked off like mad watching it.
- You mean that you jerked together? – asked Paul.
- Of course. Don’t tell me that you never jerked together watching porn on your computer.
- We did – admitted Mark with a low voice – we spoke on live cam with nice girl who showed us her tits and wanted to see our dicks. But suddenly she broke off. We were so excited that we wanked to the black monitor. It was a year ago. Since then we wank together some times.

 And now, what you want to do today, except wanking? – I pointed to the huge tent on Paul’s shorts. Boys laughed loudly and asked me to take them back to the lake again soon.
- It’s so hot, that there is nothing else we could do, just cooling-off in the water.

I agreed to take them again. As I felt it would be a good way for those guys to burn some of their youthful energy.

In the next morning, I noticed in the upstairs bathroom, there were a collection of the white towels. Each had been rinsed and hung to dry on towel hooks or along the edge of the tub. However there was not one stray sock around the entire place. This morning I treated the boys to my breakfast specialty of crepes with fresh fruits and cream. Andrew entered into negotiations with me for returning to the lake today. I said that we could do that on the condition they clean up the kitchen, since I had cooked, they could do that task. The boys all nodded as they gulped down their last few bites, and immediately cleared all the dishes and each took a station to; clear,  wash wipe, sweep or put away.

I proceeded to my guest room to put on my swim suit and an over-shirt, and met them at the van, with the boys already waiting to go.

We spent four hours on the lake, swimming and resting on grass. But after about 2 hours I found a shade tree and decided to lounge and dry off some. I also don’t like to be exposed to the sun for long periods, so half sleeping, half observing boys. I allowed them to have fun splashing and shoving each other about. I suppose the boys games became a little boring since Mark approached me and asked,
 - Do you mind we strip naked?  – If you want, you can skinny deep too.

- No, I don’t mind you guys to be naked, and no, I will not strip naked. I don’t have any modesty about you seeing me naked, but being an adult man and kind of your foster-father, I won’t do it. But you guys do not have to worry about me, do what you want.
 Mark turned to the shore, let out a raucous yell, stripped off his undies and ran into the water. Each boy took a turn to do a sillier yell, stripping off their undies then hurling themselves into the lake.
I had a wonderful view of five young boys with slim nice bodies, absolutely shameless, fooling naked around, wrestling and taking a sun bath close to me. We missed our lunch, so after returning I made a big portion of pizza, which they liked very much.

Over the next days we spent most of a time at the lake. I occasionally took walks in the forest while the boys slept late in the mornings. I placed some fresh picked fruit n the bowl each morning. The were keen to grab a piece, as they gathered for breakfast or lunch. Mark and Andrew felt at ease with me as the house master, after showers they walked from the bathroom to their bedroom completely naked. The other boys were no longer embarrassed any more of me and were usually wearing almost nothing, eating breakfast, going to the lake or resting in the large garden.

 They asked me a lot of questions about puberty, experimenting and girls. Hearing my honest answers, they lost any shame left and asked more and more. We had some fun when all five boys were sitting on a big coach, and asking questions. I regaled a few stories of my youth, they were all excited with my stories. Some got huge boners. They laughed at each other, and even teased by foolishly slapping any guy’s obvious boner tents.

Every evening taking the shower I had to ease myself, later I had to go to toilet twice a day.

When my friend asked me to take care of her two sons, I wasn’t happy at all.
But I never regretted those two weeks spent with her sons and their young friends.

Carlo

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Shock and Worry in the Scout Showers

Here is where some can relate to this story about getting a peek.

For me, pretty much the same thing happened at Boy Scout camp when I was 11 and we all had to use the same shower house together at summer camp. At that time, I thought only adult men had hair around their thing, but I was shocked to see pretty much all the Scouts that were even just a little older than us new guys (like those that were just 2 years older then me, at 13) seemed to ALL have hair around their dicks. And some had a LOT of hair.


A young guy is a little shocked at first, and you just wanna keep looking at all the different varieties the bigger guys got. There's long ones with few hairs and short ones that get lost in the mass of dark curly pubes. Then all the new guys are just fresh without any adornment to hide the obvious smaller development. A younger kid gets a little worried if they will ever get to the age where their thing grows and will they compare to other big boys.

Anonymous

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

A Peek Gives A Big Surprise

The kid in the Big guys locker room, that's a genuine learning experience! I had one kind of like that too.

I changed clothes once in the same bathroom with an older boy. I was about 12. Don't even remember now what the reason was for changing. I knew better than to stare but I also knew there was an opportunity about to happen. As he slid his underpants down I kept looking at the floor, but did that little eye-trick where you get a secret peek at the other dude's goods without really looking at him.

 I nearly had a cow. Hair! There was hair around his dick! Blew me away 'cuz MY whole crotch was still bald!!  I never thought about bigger boys having hair.

The rest of that day all I could think of when I saw him was his pubic hair! He's still a boy but he's got hair there! Even after I started growing my own crop of pubes, whenever I ran into that guy, the very first thing that I would think of, was the hair I'd seen when we changed together and I was a dumb little dweeb

Anonymous.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Cousin Twice - and My First



A writer does a great follow-up story  on a comment Reply to Scott (The Razor's Edge Comment)


My cousin that was a couple years older let me watch him jack off. There was a weight bench in their garage and he laid on the bench to wank. I remember him making funny noises while he moved his hand back and forth on his dick. When he found out that I’d never done it he offered to teach me, making it sound like masturbation was a complex thing that required careful instruction.

I got on the weight bench with my pants down and my little stiffie sticking up. He knelt on the floor next to me, touching and “examining” my boner and balls. Then he started slowly and gently moving his fingers up and down on my tense stiffie, similar to what he had just done to his own dick, only not so fast. He told me, “This will make you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life.” After while I thought I was getting dizzy and told him to stop but he kept on, saying that everything would be okay and that I would love it. The sensations became very intense, reminding me somewhat of the way I felt when the barber shaved my neck. Only they continued and got a lot stronger. As my cousin worked on my stiffie he kept asking “Is it feeling good yet? Are you getting there?”

And then, Wham! Semen exploded out of my boner and into the towel my cousin was holding. I got my first orgasm and made my virgin shot while my cousin wiggled his thumb and two fingers up and down on my totally erect little pinker. To be honest the ejaculation was scary, but my cousin congratulated me on a nice squirt and immediately unzipped his own pants and vigorously masturbated himself for a second time. Since he obviously enjoyed it....... I decided it was okay now.

We made an appointment to do it again in a few days. For a while I climaxed only in his presence, either as a result of him masturbating me or him watching me do it while he made suggestions. During every lesson he also gave himself a good jerk or invited me do it for him. I was not supposed to jack alone, just when getting a lesson from him. But I soon realized I could do it whenever I wanted to, and started sneaking private wanks between lessons.

Author Anonymous

Monday, April 10, 2017

Visiting the Big Guys' Locker Room


In the latter half of seventh grade back in the Pleistocene era, I attended a school on-base where my Air Force dad was stationed. Grades 6-8 were in one building and 9-12 in a different building. Both buildings were on the same campus.

One period each day I was a runner for the middle school office, taking messages to the various teachers in my own building. Something came up once that had to be delivered to the high school coach. This gave me a great chance to explore the high school. I took my time walking through the other building and staring at all the big kids and their classrooms. Even though I was trying to act cool, I felt really small.
I arrived at the coach's office at the same time that a basketball team double-timed into the locker room. Finding that the coach was not at his desk, I waited at the door for him.

And then it began, something that I was totally unprepared for!

The big guys pulled off their shorts, their shirts, their socks, their... (wait for it!)... JOCKSTRAPS! 

In front of my popping seventh-grade eyes this upperclassmen's team paraded buck-naked to the showers! Suddenly two dozen high school dicks were dangling around in all directions. The players returned to their lockers while drying themselves off and letting it all hang out. Their peters swung around as they walked. There was absolute zero modesty in the locker room. Some of the guys stood and conversed in total nudity, absently touching their dicks or squeezing their balls while they spoke. Others sat on the benches and scratched themselves. A tall, naked blond boy rummaged in his backpack and finally came up with deodorant which he applied to his crotch before his armpits. A black dude took hold of his peter and pulled back its foreskin so he could completely dry his dick. Guys openly arranged their dicks after pulling up their boxers, squeezing and tucking them into place. Then they gave their junk another adjustment or two after getting their pants on.

Everybody had a big patch of crotch hair. Some of it was kinky, some was sort of puffed up and some was straggly. One particular boy's dick seemed to be surrounded by a doughnut-shaped ring of hair with his dick poking out of the hole. Regardless of appearance, they all had unmistakable pubes.

The penises especially appeared large to me. Even the peters that were semi-hidden inside their sheaths or just showed their heads through their hair seemed enormous. Some of the balls were shriveled up, some hung loose, some looked like bags of tanned leather. A few of the boys even had highly-developed nipples on their chests.

All of this caught me totally off guard. I must have been staring with huge eyeballs. I realized that I was "grading" them --  some of the boys were nice-looking when bare, while others were kind of ugly without their clothes.

One of the big dudes noticed me. "Hey, midget!" he yelled. "What circus are you from?"

"A spy!" came another voice.

As the boys became aware of me they all looked my direction. Another guy laughed: "What are you doing? Studying anatomy? Come on over and take a good look."

I made a quick decision and left the coach's message on his desk. As I headed for the door another guy called, "Hey, come back! You didn't have your shower yet! Nobody gets out of here without stripping and showering!"

Somebody else hollered "Grab him so we can look at his little prick.... just like he was looking at ours!" Another voice rang out: "Hey, kid, it's bad manners to keep your clothes on in a locker room!"  "We'll fix that," a different boy promised.

I got safely away from them They were probably joking, but I was genuinely scared.

Out of that experience I learned something that has served me well: If you're going to look, do it discretely, obliquely, cautiously. Do not stare!

That night, having gotten over my fear of the big boys, I found that the memory of all those naked physiques helped me enjoy a private procedure that I'd recently learned.

Even though I had absolutely embarrassed myself that day in the locker room, I kept hoping for another message that would have to be delivered to the high school coach.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Under Water Shooting Spy

Your story about what they guy whose swim suit showed, reminds me of swimming in the summertime in the river that flowed through our city park.

 I was in my early teens and always ready to pump one out. I came up with the idea of sitting in a shallow place with just my neck and head above water. I had a great view of boys in wet trunks as they played around in the water. Their trunks were not transparent but they revealed a lot. I sat in my spot and played with my boner while looking at the wet trunks. Before long I would be ready to go for broke. I kept my hard dick inside my bathing suit and rubbed the front of the suit with my hand. I was careful to keep my arm from moving. Before long I would be ready to shoot and would cum inside my trunks, under water. After my boner got soft I would get up and swim around while rinsing all the cum out of my bathing suit.

Sometime you could sit near the water in a high spot and wait for a few nice ones to show up, then back in the water I'd go.Those wet trunks sure showed me a lot.

Anonymous

Saturday, April 1, 2017

The Private Jayhawk Jiggle

My mother and I were on vacation driving through Kansas when the car broke down (something about the transmission). AAA sent an old man in a dirty truck who towed us to a garage in a tiny town. The "garage" was a grundgy two-bay service station that was run by the old man himself. He had to order everything from another town and wait for it to be delivered.

We got a room in the lone motel. My mother left the room only for meals and to check on the progress of the car. I roamed back and forth between the motel and garage, anxious to get back on the road.

While I watched the old man wrestling with the transmission, a dude showed up. He was the old guy's grandson who had brought his bicycle to get a flat tire fixed. The grandfather did not bother to introduce us (I doubt if he even knew my name), but we sort of acknowledged each other and got into conversation. The boy looked a little younger than me (I was just finished with middle school). He wore denims cut off above the knees, a sleeveless Jayhawks shirt and worn orange sneakers. his hair was blonde, pretty short and gelled up at the very front.

I asked whether there was anything to do in the town. Maybe an arcade or even a Dairy Queen? The boy shook his head, saying that the little cafe across the highway was the entire action. We looked each other over, as guys do when they are thrown together. Then he said, "I'm Ben. You wanna walk around town with me and let me show you some stuff?"

"Marty," I told him, and we shook hands and headed out into the morning sun with him saying that a single basketball goal was the town's entire recreation facility.

Through the open doors came the old man's voice: "Bennie, you keep away from that courthouse, you hear me? It's dangerous."

"Right," Ben said, with a tone in his voice that told me he was offended by his grandfather's warning.

We walked around for a few minutes. The place was an obvious dead end like I had never seen. I was asking myself how Ben could stand it. Meanwhile he pointed out the unused school, a tractor dealership, and not much more.

"What's this about a courthouse?" I asked.

"Over near the railroad tracks," he answered, "In the old part of town." We took off walking again.

As soon as we got past the empty storefronts lining the highway I could see a big three-story brick building out ahead. Ben told me that this town used to be the county seat, but they lost an election a long time ago, maybe a hundred years, and the old courthouse had been abandoned as long as anybody could remember. There were big pillars out front and a broad flight of steps going up to the doors.

Ben obviously knew all about the building. He led me to a basement window where we wiggled in.

"It's not really dangerous," he said. I come here all the time and..." He stopped and started over again. "I like to explore and all that stuff."

He looked at me to see if I understood. I was wondering what he had started to say, wondering if the lil' dude came to this old ruin to take care of personal needs.

Dangerous or not, the place was falling apart. Some of the roof was missing and birds flew in and out. When we were inside we found the stairs rotten and the floor marked by missing boards. Everything that we saw was warped or cracked. The building was full of dirt and had a general feeling of desolation.

After we looked into several rooms Ben said, "Let's go upstairs." We carefully picked our way up the staircase. Right away we entered a big room that was two-stories tall with a balcony around the sides. "This was the courtroom," Ben said, and then he led me to a door near the stairs. "And this was the bathroom," he announced with sort of a little laugh.. "Look at where the shitters used to be. Somebody stole all the pots and sinks and a lot of other stuff. But look at the holes in the floor! The crappers used to be right here, see, and those big holes are the pipes where they flushed the turds down!"

We stood looking at the holes in the restroom floor. All of a sudden Ben said, "Lotta privacy here. Do you need to piss?"

"Not really."

"It's real funny to do it here. You piss into one of those big holes and you can hear the piss echoing back and forth in the drain pipes. I do it all the time before I..." Again he stopped and started over. "Kinda freaky. Go ahead and try it. I won't look. Real private here."

Maybe I'd been thinking something like this might happen. Anyway I opened my fly and stood over one of the holes in the floor and let loose a few ounces of urine. Ben was right; you could hear the hollow echo of splattering drops down in the big pipes.

As I finished pissing Ben edged a little closer to me. "Did you aim straight into the pipe?" he wanted to know. At the same time he was holding onto his fly in a kind of strange way. "Are you going to shake it off?" he asked. "Maybe you need to do some more?" All that time he was moving and jockeying around until he had my dick right in his line of sight. "Do you want to try a different pipe?" he suggested.

"Your turn," I told him.

"You want me to?"

"It's only fair. I piss, you piss."

My dick was still exposed and I shook a drop off of it. Ben managed another peek at me, still holding onto his fly.

"What else do you do in here, man?" I asked.

"Oh, I just... sometimes I... it's real private, y'know?"

Ben was squeezing the front of his cut-offs. "Real private," he repeated in a funny voice. I guessed that he was unsure of what he'd started and afraid of rejection.

I stood very still, occasionally lifting and moving my dick. He was about to hyperventilate, now looking straight at my dick and trying to hide his hand while he squeezed the front of his pants.

I decided not to say anything else, just let him decide if things were going any further. I kept on lifting and moving my peter, just my thumb and index finger. It was steadily growing. Ben's eyes were about to pop out of his head. His hand clenched and unclenched whatever he was hiding in those cut-offs.

After a few more moments of staring, Ben's fingers moved to take hold of the tab at the top of his zipper. Slowly the zipper moved downward. It had barely started when he stopped for a moment. Then it went down another inch and another and kept moving. He was taking his time, ogling my now-erect peter.

Once he got the zipper all the way down he stood still for a few more heartbeats. Then his fingers parted the fly and hunted the opening in his underwear. He stopped again. For a moment I thought he was going to chicken-out, and maybe he did too. I stood perfectly still, slightly moving my hard dick, letting him make up his own mind.

All of a sudden he dug around in his pants and pulled out a straining boner that astounded me. The kid had a fully grown tool. It was sticking up halfway between horizontal and vertical. It was so hard that its head was a dark reddish color, a real contrast to the pale shaft. Without a word he began feeling of himself, moving his stiffie around, squeezing, jiggling, and at last turning hesitantly toward me.

"Your thing looks really hard," he told me.

"It is." I turned slightly toward him. "And yours is too, man. Nice one."

Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. "You come here to shoot your load?" I asked.

"Ummm," Ben kind of murmured, not actually saying anything, not really replying.

Mind if I let my pants down?" he asked, betraying a little nervousness.

"Not at all. Go for it."

In another second he had unfastened the brass button at the top of his shorts and let them drop past his knees. "Here's how I do it," he told me, fishing his impressive boner back through his briefs and sliding the briefs down toward his cut-offs. Now his junk was fully exposed, along with a tangle of blond pubes. Ben knelt on the floor above one of the sewer pipes, continuing to jiggle his peter.

"See, the stuff goes in the pipe and nobody sees any evidence on the floor." He was busy wiggling his peter around, apparently having conquered his nervousness. He seemed pleased that I was watching.

"You can do it too," he suggested.

I opened my own pants and knelt down in front of a different hole.

"There used to be fancy walls between the pots but somebody stole them," he told me.

A moment went by while we just jiggled our stiff pricks without saying anything.

Then Ben spoke again: "Yours is nice."

"Yours is a keeper too," I told him.

"A guy at school said I have the biggest one he's ever seen."

Another moment went by. We silently agreed to touch each other's boners and to share strokes. Then we resumed taking care of our own business. Ben was now fully jacking, his hand moving steadily on his stiff peter while he watched me.

"Do you have anybody here to do this with?" I asked.

"Not here. There's no kids here except for a few girls. I've got that one friend at school. We do it when we get a chance." A silent pause and then another thought: "I'm glad you... you..."

"I'm getting ready to cum, dude," I told him. "It's happening fast."

"Me too."

Within another few strokes I climaxed very deeply and spurted an excellent bunch of loads. I didn't have the range exactly right but it went mostly into the drain pipe. Ben was watching me while he jacked himself. Now he, sped up for his orgasm and told me "Watch! Watch! I'm cumming!"

I scooted closer to him, sensing that he craved somebody's approval of what was about to happen. "Here it comes!" he told me.

He rapidly stroked back and forth on his boner, his hand going faster and faster until it was just a blur. Suddenly he gasped "Now!" Several thick knots of ejaculate squirted into the dark cavity. "Very nice," I told him. He shook his dick and got his breath, looking at me with a strange expression, his dick just hanging there with a thread of semen dangling from its tip.

"I wish you lived here!" he blurted out.

What could I say? It would never happen. We both knew we would never see each other again.

That was mid-morning. The car would be ready late that afternoon. We hung out together and made another trip to the courthouse to share a parting wank around 4:00, taking our time and enjoying each other. When we got back to the garage Mom was there, hacked at me because I'd wandered away.

While I was dealing with my mother, Ben disappeared. We never even said goodbye.

Martin