Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Cooling off my Stiffie

I found an old email from one of our contributing authors Thunder Cloud. The following story was not published. Immediately, I  knew it should be posted.

Most of my sixth grade year and on into all of the seventh, we were stationed at Laughlin AFB on the Mexican border. The only reason for mentioning Laughlin is because that particular base had a very nice housing area with the homes grouped into several compact neighborhoods with large, well-equipped playgrounds in the middle of each neighborhood.

Not long before moving to Laughlin I had become aware of my boners, but not much else (see "Man, You've Got It Bad" which our friend Eric has posted on this site).

Every time I caught an erection it bugged me. I had to constantly rearrange my junk and my tightie-whities in hopes of making my boner feel better. I also worried about keeping the bulge from becoming visible. I just did not like to get hard. Whenever I felt my cock growing I would silently curse: "That @#% thing is getting big again." The only time that I felt good about my pisser becoming large was when a situation happened to work out where another guy and I could do a little friendly comparing.

The playground was just across our back fence. It was basically a large circular field surrounded by a ring of homes. Parents could look out their back windows and see the entire area.

I was a little too old for most of the playground equipment, but I kept hanging out in the playground with some other kids my age. One of my favorite things was a set of swings. They were "big kid" swings, thick rubber seats suspended by chains from a tall frame. Built to military specs and tough enough to last until Doomsday. Some of us older kids would swing as high as we dared. Then we'd lift our butts off of the seats and hang onto the chains, unsupported except by our grip on the chains, almost flying. Some of the more daring guys would let go completely and figure a vector as they went into free-fall and try to hit the ground standing on their feet.

One evening when things were starting to get dark and most of the kids had gone home, I had one of the wildest inspirations of my life. My confounded penis was stiff and rigid and chubby. I had been moving it from place to place behind my zipper for hours. It was as uncomfortable as hell because of being confined in my pants.

I was the only one swinging. Nobody else nearby. Why not do something absolutely crazy? Get the damn thing out and let it stick up naked while soaring back and forth in the swing?

I unzipped my pants and pried my erection out. It was hot and sweaty. I got a running start in my favorite swing and flew as high as I dared Back and forth, back and forth, breakneck airspeed.

The summer air was dry and comfortable. It blew gently around my bare stiffie as I swung as high and as fast as I could. My dick was still stiff but it felt so much better thanks to the moving air. I felt almost like soft fingers were touching my boner, but it was only the air currents caressing my hard-on. In a word, it was heavenly.

Swinging with my bare erection sticking up from my lap became my favorite playground activity. I could hardly wait for the sun to set each evening so that it would get dark enough to pull my boner out. I let my naked dick enjoy the breeze almost every night, staying on the swings until I heard my dad standing at the back door yelling for me to come home.

One of my friends had played a slightly dirty game with me from time to time. As one of us slid down the largest slide on our back, the other guy would reach out and try to honk his balls as he zipped by. After discovering boner-swinging, I inducted him into that game. He would swing with his peter exposed, but as far as I could tell he never got hard.

He did add a neat twist to the game, though. Whenever I landed after a wild, erect ride, he would hustle over and  say "Ground support. Is everything still there?" while squeezing and fingering my stiff cock. I liked that very much and started thinking that boners weren't so bad after all.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Johnny Draws Judgment

Guys, I have been thinking about whether to post a comment. Now that this story is no longer the lead topic, I will mention something that happened to me.

A boy that I knew at church went with me into the restroom one day. I was still sexually naïve and about 13. The other boy was close to the same age. He came right into the stall with me (there was not a urinal in the little room). It was obvious to me that he wanted to see my dick. While I pissed he stood looking straight at my penis. I began to get a hard-on and he continued looking while I flopped my stiffie around. Nobody said anything. He kept staring at my growing boner.

This was before I learned about wanking, so I wasn't "doing" anything. I had a couple of other friends that I enjoyed peter-play with, but this boy was not one of them. My dick became completely erect and the other boy stood staring at it. I thought I had found another pal who would like to to play around. So I reached over and gave the front of his pants a little touch.

I completely misjudged him. The instant I put my fingers on him he yelled "THAT'S PRIVATE!" Then he went running out of the restroom, slamming the door behind him.

Several days later the boy's mother drew me aside and said "Johnny" had told her what I did to him. She said she wasn't going to tell my parents, but I had better leave other boys alone. This was a terrible rebuke to me, maybe the most embarrassing thing that I ever endured.

To me, this incident has an application to the story about the boy and his sleepover experiences. It says that some people have two different sets of rules, one for themselves and one for others. Johnny felt it was perfectly okay to watch me piss and stare at my erect penis, but he would not tolerate me showing interest in him.

I will also mention that as I grew older all of us kids at church learned something about this "Johnny." He was the kind of kid who would stir up a situation and get other people involved. Then he would disappear and when the mischief was discovered, the rest of us took the blame while Johnny ratted on us, always portraying himself as an innocent party or even a victim.


Sunday, August 13, 2017

A Discovery of Self (Pleasure?): Part Zero

We bring to you a new Author and his first story. He has supplied a Preface (linked below) with some of his early history supporting the story. I invite you to welcome and enjoy the initial work by Author Rory Graxham.

Author's Preface -

Story Begins:

  From a very young age, while there's no question that I realised my willie (penis, Johnson, pecker, prick, phallus, sausage) could be the source of both intense pain and pleasure, it took me a surprisingly long time to figure out exactly how it really worked. It didn't help that such educations weren't encouraged, or that any displays of these pursuits, accidental or otherwise, of said self-enlightenment were met by tortuously harsh interdictions often so euphemised as to render them unintelligible even to fully trained lawyers.

  It wasn't that I couldn't get a rise out of it, but more an inability to skillfully enhance, induce, or suppress its responses as the case may be. The first time I noticed it had to do with another person rather than merely friction or having an overly full bladder was when I became best friends with a small boy from Taiwan who was in my classroom.

  We were in the third grade (8 years old), and both excelled in mathematics and were obsessed with learning as much as we could. NASA's Apollo project was still ongoing and there was an intensely optimistic feeling about what science could help us understand about the Universe.

  I was a tall and strong boy for my age having won of bit of a genetic lottery via my Eastern European grandparents, easily eclipsing many of those a year older than I. Lee was small for his age, like many Asians, and very softly spoken and reserved.

  When I think back on the genesis of our friendship, it was inevitable. I was the biggest kid in the class, but just as shy and introverted as he. We lived in the same apartment "supercomplex" (two large brick complexes of four duplex apartments each), so we spent quite a bit of time together outside of school as well.

  I didn't have too many friends my age, though I wasn't completely devoid of them. It was just unusual to find other boys who didn't care about sports and preferred "internal" things, or books, or things like science or math to tinker with.

  So while we spent most of time outdoors during the good months, during late fall through early spring we spent a great deal of time indoors, mainly in his basement. His basement was less cluttered and had much better light than mine, and his family put very little in theirs, and so it was like a large open space that was large enough to play around pretty well.

  Sometimes we'd read together, sometimes just talk, but often we imagined various games that involved our imagining we were in various fantastical situations. Star Trek was in re-runs, and that provided not a little grist for our "fantasies".

 Our various "adventures" involved figuring out clues, or trying to avert some imagined disaster or threat, etc. One recurring element to our physical play was a kind of bondage and submission role playing, often literally with ropes and even a bicycle chain once or twice. It was he who role played the larger/more powerful role always.

  And while I'd make very credible attempts to escape, a part of me took great care to avoid exceeding that role. I was so much bigger and stronger than he was, I could pick him off the ground with one arm. I sometimes carried him on my shoulders when we walked through the backyard and small wooded areas around our apartments.

  Almost always, these "bondage" scenes involved a great deal of bodily contact and various phases where he would straddle or otherwise grasp me while I was on my back "helpless". The climax of these would sometimes involve him "sparing" me in a last moment of "mercy", and an intensely sparkling tingle flashed down my body from chest to groin. I would spontaneously imagine all very elaborate ways he'd "destroy" me, and it never failed to give me a raging stiffie.

  We would often rest a bit, still on top of me, usually half sprawled with our faces near each other. I could feel his small stiffie, though I don't think he could feel mine since I was so much taller than he was. I'm not sure how long we'd stay like that, but it seemed to be a while.

 Even though we were both the respective "elders" in our families - we each had younger sisters - there was a feeling of fraternal love between us. He was as much drawn to my size and strength as I was to his small and seemingly younger appearance, even though we were both shy and quiet bookworms who just wanted to be left alone with our experiments. Or perhaps both of our wishes that the other was the brother we didn't have. When I think back on it, I was surprised nobody made sport of how close we were physically. I'd spent many afternoons reading with him laying on top of me with his head on a tiny pillow on my chest, while he also read. His parents never seemed fazed by it. If my mother had concerns, she never ventilated them.

  Alas, neither of us knew enough or had the nerve to make overt advances towards the other, but afterwards, I'd masturbate over re-enacted imaginings of what we did many times. Sometimes, he'd say he had to go to the bathroom after a "scene", and while he was upstairs, I'd quickly masturbate keeping one eye on the door at the top of the stairs leading to the ground floor. I wish I could say it was something special, but at the time, it felt like a race... could I finish before he came back? Because nothing scared me more than any thought of him, walking in on me.

  One nice thing about pre-pubescence is that masturbation is relatively clean. After horsing around with Lee, I almost never needed longer than 2-3 minutes before my body would tense and clench with pleasure while my little cock strutted and twitched madly, often making clicking sounds as the peristalsis waves opened and closed a (relatively) dry tube.

  Tragic. I imagined at the time he was doing the same in the solitude of the bathroom during at least some of those times, but it is to my shame (now) that I felt safe to have hidden this part of himself from him.

  We had only a year together before he moved away to another part of town. I did manage to visit him a few times, but the visits were too brief, and the lack of spontaneity made the older kind of play almost impossible.

  Less than a year later, his family moved out of state, and I'd never seen him again, though I often think of the inchoate tenderness we each brought out in each other, even as we were boys being boys. I don't think Lee was (or is) gay, and there wasn't anything necessarily soft or effete about him as a boy. He was just small and unathletic, with a heart as gentle and open as his mind.

Rory Graxham

[To be continued...]

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

How to Embarrass Your Family

 My family had relatives scattered far and wide. We typically drove to some distant town for Thanksgiving.

 One year (I was 8) we were on a narrow road out in the boonies when we encountered two dogs in the ditch. One of the dogs had mounted the other one and was busy doing what dogs do. I had never seen such a thing and rose up in my seat to stare at them as we passed.

Totally innocent, I yelled out, "Look at those dogs!"

My grandmother was up front with my parents. My favorite aunt was in the back seat with me. If I'd had the slightest inkling of what I was talking about, I would certainly have kept my mouth shut.

My mother said, "Hush, Marty."

"Why? What were they doing?"

There was total silence in the car. Finally my father came up with an answer: "Those dogs were getting married to each other."

"Getting married to each other!"

Having been to a few weddings, I tried to picture dogs prancing down the aisle and barking the vows. But that didn't explain the scene in the ditch, one dog gripping another one from behind, thrusting his hindquarters back and forth.

"They're making puppies," my aunt said quietly.

That was the end of the conversation, but I thought about those dogs the rest of the way. Finally we got to our destination, a house full of relatives all greeting each other and talking at once.

"Guess what!" I yelled above the general confusion. "We saw two dogs getting married! They were making puppies!"

Everybody stopped talking. My mother snatched me by the arm and dragged me to another room where she gave my rear end a major swat.

"We don't talk about that," she warned me.

"Why?" I sobbed, but she didn't answer.

Two of my older cousins quizzed me about what I'd seen, but I was full of caution by then and wouldn't answer their questions.

Occasionally through the years I have seen other animals getting with it, and I always remember my dad's effort to explain to an eight-year-old: "They're getting married."


Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Water Park Grab Attack

When I was in high school years ago I was with a group that went to the local water park.

 Two guys caught my attention in the stream that circled all around the attractions. They were floating on big round tubes and at the same time, kind of wrestling with each other. They were younger than me. I would put them at maybe thirteen or fourteen. After I realized what was going on I kept my eyes on them, floating behind at a discreet distance.

One of the guys would lay belly-down across his tube. The other one would float over to him and launch a sneak attack. The exact form of the attack became clear to me after a minute or two. Although no one else probably figured it out. The attacker reached up through the center of the inner tube and grabbed his buddy's junk! They would yell and struggle for a while. Then the other guy would lay face-down on the tube acting cool,  but  really he was all set to be grabbed.
The boys alternated back and forth like that for two or three circuits of the stream. There was no mistake about it, they were good enough friends that they were happily squeezing each other's goods. Sometimes a minute or more would pass while the one on the tube allowed himself to be felt-up real good by his buddy.

It wouldn't surprise me if one or both of them reached ejaculation with all the jock jacking going down. I know I did as soon as I could!