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.
Eric  

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...]

2 comments:

  1. what a beautiful story. i am looking forward to more of this wonderful story. thank you for sharing it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "...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."
    Wow, I personally never had a dry orgasm. I didn't realize such things happened to a boy's body until it happened to me when I was 13, far enough into puberty to squirt from my very first time. But I love this description of what a dry onw was like for you.

    ReplyDelete