Thursday, November 30, 2017

OOTS4U - Passes 100,000 Hits

The blog has surpassed a huge milestone of 100,000 visits. I thank our authors and guests for this laudable event. I especially want to mention my appreciation for our team of dedicated authors who return regularly with interesting works for our enjoyment. I will soon add a link list for the author's Bio and their list of works featured here.

I also want to mention that any guest can submit and share their story from youth. So if you have an idea, or complete story please type it into a comment box and I will work up a post for you. If you have any detailed questions about ts review the FAQ page. I feel confident that everyone has something unique from long ago that would be of interest to our readers, so Please tell it.

Kind Thanks,

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

"Where you been?"

I was in middle school, actually the Fall of eighth grade, when I discovered what my dick could do if I
stimulated it in a certain way. I was immediately hooked. My body demanded a cumshot every day. I lived from one climax to the next.

In contrast to what some of the other guys have said on here, I never shot my load at school. It was just too risky. The same went for my home situation. Nobody had any privacy. So where could I wank?

I solved that problem by walking through a park on my way home from school. The park included a stinky cinder-block Men's restroom with two toilet stalls (plywood walls; no doors) and a long trough-type urinal mounted on the wall. That foul disgusting bathroom became my masturbation heaven.

The high school was nearby and some of the HS guys also walked through the park. I'm well aware "now" that certain HS boys were looking for jacking buddies, but at my age in the park I was flushed with complete naivete back then..... I just was looking for privacy, not companionship. I didn't even know that two boys might collaborate on a wank. So I would hang around at the picnic tables until everybody else cleared out.

One day I apparently miscounted. Walking into the restroom, I saw an instrument case on the floor at one of the stalls. Some guy was STILL in the stall! I guess he plays in one of the bands, either middle school or high school.

I was in a hurry to do my daily pump job, and decided to go ahead. The other guy could not see me from the stall. I'd wiggle my worm quickly and hurry home.

But something peculiar happened. As I was pumping myself I kept an eye trained on the stalls. Suddenly a head could be seen at the edge of the stall, apparently watching me. Every cell of my brain ordered me to run! But I couldn't move. I was petrified.

Meanwhile, the dude in the other stall changed positions. He stepped forward just enough to reveal his own hand pumping his own peter, just like I'd been doing. I was hypnotized. What would happen next? Will he keep doing it now that he knows I'm here? Will I see him squirt? How did I ever get myself into this?

I was badly scared but also very intrigued. Another boy was doing it! Doing it right there! And I can't stop!

As I peeked at the action, the other boy's dick discharged a sudden stream of cum that shot from his stall across the filthy concrete floor, leaving strings and puddles and globs of ejaculate.

That did it. I was cumming. And Holy Cow....cumming in record time. My shot splattered onto the wall above the pee trough.I dunno if it dribbled down the wall, or crusted there until eternity. Faster than it takes to say "zip up," I was gone, hurrying away from the restroom and the park and asking myself what had just happened.

 I'd seen only two glimpses of the other guy. First a narrow glimpse of his face as he sized me up and second a look at his busy hand arousing his erect dick. He was older than me, a high school dude, and yet he seemed as frightened of seeing me as I'd been of him.

That'll never happen again, I told myself as I walked home.

But it did. Every few days I'd walk into the restroom and see the instrument case.  (I Grinned). I tell myself with a funny kind of goose-bump thrill. "He's here." The next few times we met, the scene was a repeat of the first time. I shot into (or above) the trough. He shot out into the room. Then I hurried away.

But we developed a strange kind of friendship. He would step farther out of his stall, bare crotch fully visible as he jacked. I would turn toward him as I did the same. In the few seconds that it takes for horny boys to climax, we watched intensely, never saying a word, never coming close to one another, but fully intent on letting each other see.

Sometimes I got bold and aimed my cumshot across the floor for his benefit. Sometimes he pulled his pants totally down and his shirt fully up and gave me a look of his naked body and hard boner while he jacked.

If the instrument case wasn't there I was disappointed. I fired my peter without much enthusiasm wishing for my anonymous buddy. The need to wank required a cumshot, but how disappointing when my counter-part was missing.

Once an entire week went past without him. But gladly, he and his instrument case were waiting for me after the sad hiatus. I got brave. "Where you been?" I asked softly while we entertained each other. "Got sick," he answered.

That short exchange was our only conversation, and we never got even close to touching each other. We continued watching each other masturbate all through the rest of my eighth grade. When school started the next August, my buddy never showed up.

 But thanks to him I had learned that "two is better than one" and found the confidence to make a couple of jerking friends who came closer and shared space with me at the park's pee-trough after school.

Totally Anonymous

Monday, November 27, 2017

Lap Sitting

(Happy Thanksgiving, Eric. Here's something you might be able to post.)
Sorry Guys, I was away all week-end, however I am proud to present this one from Regi.

I had an experience in sixth grade that made my junk tingle. It's my earliest memory of something sort of raunchy (yet sexually pleasant) happening to me.

It was at a family gathering at my grandparents' in another town. Could have been Thanksgiving, which is why I'm posting it this weekend.

I was around eleven and still uninformed about life. One of my aunts had a fancy new digital camera. She constantly took pictures, eventually calling me and "Tony," a cousin of mine, to pose for her. He was maybe two or even three years older than I was.

She had Tony sit in a big chair and then told me to sit in his lap. That was kind of awkward. We tried various positions while "Aunt Lee" clicked away, but we couldn't settle down. The two of us kept wiggling around, trying to get comfortable with me sitting on his legs

Tony said, "Quit squirming." He put both of his hands in front of my stomach to hold me still. Soon his hands migrated downward. He cupped his fingers around my package and whispered, "I'm checking for alien life forms."

When Aunt Lee was satisfied, we got out of the chair. Due to Tony groping me, I was acutely aware  of having a stiffie that made a point in the front of my pants. Apparently Tony noticed it too and wanted a replay.

People began to leave and it got quiet in the house. Those who were left were in the kitchen. Tony found me and said, "Let's do that chair thing again." There was nobody else in the room. I got in his lap. He put both of his hands on my crotch again. This time he located my little weenie in my pants and wiggled his fingers on it, telling me "It's alive!" as it became stiff. My whole groin tingled.

"Now you," Tony said. We traded places. He sat on my legs and I reached around him to see what I could feel. I was highly curious and soon located his boner, which felt quite large to my exploring hand. He said "Ooh! Ooh!" For some reason we quit. Maybe we heard people coming.

Later in the evening we went out back and sat in a patio chair, Tony's butt in my lap. He was stiff again and encouraged me to feel all I wanted to. I squeezed, rubbed, mashed, tickled -- did all the things that came to mind. After several minutes he told me, "That feels good but you better stop now."

Since I was not yet aware of ejaculations, my pay-off for fumbling around with Tony was pretty simple. I got a boner, experienced odd tingling sensations in my junk, and felt the size and condition of Tony's stiffie.

 Tony, on the other hand... When I think about the encounter years later, I really don't know how far he let it go. His advice "Better stop now" seems to mean that he was close to firing a load but stopped me in time.

But maybe, just maybe, he was so horny that he let me keep manipulating his hard-on until his peter reached a climax and scored a goal inside his pants. That would mean he stopped me after cumming, not before. Maybe he actually let me make him climax. 

The next time I saw Tony it was a couple years later, another holiday dinner. For reasons that I couldn't understand at the time, he stayed completely away from me, wouldn't even talk to me. So what might have happened in his pants on that previous holiday weekend is a little mystery that I'll never know the answer to.


Saturday, November 18, 2017

Observing the Seminarian

Speaking of Catholic camps, my mother sent me to a sports camp at a parochial high school for a week. In addition to athletics, the camp also gave us a big dose of religion. It was a day-camp, meaning we did not sleep there but rode a bus every morning. We arrived in street clothes and immediately went to the locker room to change into athletic gear. Before going home in the evenings we showered and got dressed again. The counselors/coaches were seminarians, meaning college guys that were learning how to be priests.

The young priests showered with us. One of them had a long, thin penis that swayed around when he walked. After showering he tucked his snake into strange white underwear that had elastic around the legs as well as the waist. Some of us talked about that young priest, speculating that he was forced to wear those strange underpants in penance for having a big dick. Being so indoctrinated with things like the Latin names of saints we secretly made up funny names for him like Dickus Maximus and Pissus Longus.

A student priest probably would not be allowed to shower with boys today, but we took it in stride. Observing a seminarian's dick was a little extra bit of our education that week.


Thursday, November 16, 2017

Getting away with IT!!

I know this topic is months and months old, but after reading it, I'll state that I do believe I got away with secretly masturbating every night at camp.

 You know every kid does it, but who the heck can manage to without the other guys busting you for it. Pretty much everyone is guilty, but usually nobody wants anyone to know it, especially at camps like this.

  Read on.......

I attended a Catholic camp when I was 13, 14 and 15. My strategy was to perform the act as slowly as possible and be completely aware of what was going on around me. I folded a lot of toilet paper and hid it inside my boxers when getting in bed. We slept in sleeping bags on top of the mattresses of bunk beds. I always had a top bunk.

By the time the other boys calmed down I was seriously erect due to knowing what I was planning to do, as well as guessing which of the other boys were also planning to do it.

When it was time to begin I carefully raised the front of my sleeping bag and spread the fly of my boxers. Then lifted my boner through the slot. Without raising the sleeping bag any further, I started an extremely slow wank, careful not to shake the bed or call attention to my activity in any way. I continued as slow as possible. Back, forth. Back, forth. Just slightly moving the fingers my right hand. My boner loved the slow strokes and I remained totally hard.

Meanwhile I supported the slight tent in the sleeping bag on the back of my left wrist. My left fingers held the toilet paper in readiness. Sometimes I had to stop pumping when something happened in the cabin, but I didn't lower the sleeping bag because that might attract attention. Part of the thrill was to continue jacking off while guys went to the restroom or whispered together. I knew I was getting away with it.

Eventually I got closer and closer to a climax. When the feelings washed over me I was even more careful than ever, moving my fingers in the tiniest, slowest strokes you can imagine. The toilet paper was ready and I hovered at the brink of sexual explosiveness for several unbearable seconds due to stroking so slowly. Then my whole body climaxed and my cum fired repeatedly into the paper. At this moment I often found myself hyper-aware of the other boys that were also jacking. I think those careless jackers gave me an extra dose of horny adrenaline. I seemed to shoot more juice during those slow camp wanks than I did at home.

At last reached fulfillment. I held the paper around my dickhead until every drop had oozed out. Then I wadded up the soaked paper and hid it inside my boxers where it remained until I went to the restroom.

I'm sure I got away with it. I'm also aware that many other boys did not get away with it, including the boys who had the bunk under me all three years. Their obvious stroking and bumping communicated their jerking to me and enhanced my own complete secrecy.


A readers thoughts on Size

The following was a readers comment which seemed quite worthy of a post for everyone to enjoy reading,

Maybe it's too late to comment on this story and on the poll which asked about little dicks. 

What I wanted to report is that I can't remember the size of my dick as a young kid. I don't know if I had a little one or not. Is that strange? I know that another neighbor boy and me played with our dicks together quite a bit at around the age of 9 but do not remember its size at all. 

The earliest memory of the size of my dick was when I let some younger boys see it (we were hiding in one boy's garage) and I was 13. I remember having a hard-on and pulling down the front of my shorts and underwear to show how it stuck up in the air and was hard to move. I remember getting my whole hand around it and the head sticking out at the top. You may laugh, but I am sure my dick was already its adult size at 13. The other guys touched my dick and played with it, except one boy got scared and ran away when he saw it.

 That was before learning how to jerk but I liked it a lot to get the boys to feel it on Two Fingers for Thrills

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Are You Ready?

Starting in the sixth grade I was a "latchkey kid," home alone for two hours every afternoon. There was a neighbor boy who came over almost every day and watched cartoons with me.

Somehow we began getting our little pricks out while looking at TV. I don't remember how it got started, but after while it was a regular thing. We would sit or lay around looking at the TV. In a few minutes one of us would say "Are you ready?" We said that in a loud voice of challenge, like announcing an act at a circus. Then fast as we could, we buzzed down our zippers and pulled-out our little weenies. It was a race to see who could do it the fastest.

When this crazy thing first started, we did not play with each other's prick. We just wiggled our own and got our kicks from this little act of rebellion. For the rest of the afternoon our dicks hung out free and feeling slightly devilish. If we wanted to got a Coke out of the refrigerator, our dicks led the way. If we went to the bathroom to piss (both of us at the same time) we walked along with our dicks hanging in front of us. Snickering along the way.

I think we had our unspoken limits in the early days. We did not show our balls and didn't touch each other. But one day I had a hard-on. I was 12 then and it probably was not my first boner, but it got my attention.

 "Hey, look at this," I said.

 My friend looked at it. "Is something wrong?"

Then the big question, "Can I feel it?"

We started both having boners every afternoon. We played with each other and with ourselves. But honestly we did not know what the hell was going on with our dicks.

One day my friend said "You gotta see something."

 He got some toilet paper and got on his knees in front of me. His stiff dick sticking out of his pants.

 "Watch this." He is holding his dick with his hand and sliding his hand up and down on it. "Look!" he told me.

 Some stuff came out and landed in the toilet paper. It was a big mystery to me. "Now you try it."

I did it but started getting scared.

 "Keep going" he said."

 "I can't stand it."

 "Yes you can. You will like it."

 I got a climax and the cum blasted out.
 "Wasn't that fun?"

So now we would jack off every day and got daring enough to pull down our pants and play with the other guy's junk while he jacked off.


Monday, November 13, 2017

Pushing the Limits

In regards to What Stuff Coach

Well guys, if you are asking for true confessions, I am one of those who jacked nearly every day or night, starting at age 13. I tried to ration it, telling myself that it was a bad habit. By bad habit, I don't mean that I thought masturbation was harmful. I thought it was bad because I feared how awful it would be if people I respected found out that I did it. Such as my grandmother, my counselor at school, my pastor, etc. I was scared to death of getting caught. But it wasn't until years later that I had the self discipline to skip more than a single day without taking care of business.

Sometimes I lost control of myself and went beyond my once-a-day routine. One year at camp I nearly wore my dick out. I had a sort of infatuation for a slightly younger boy. I kept my eye on him and hung out near him as much as possible, trying to catch him masturbating, or trying at least to discover signs that he did it. I did not want him to know that I did the nasty deed, but I was determined to catch him doing it in order to satisfy my strange curiosity. I obsessed about him so much that I was constantly horny, making me jack several times every day. I never did confirm that he knew how to get a load out, but due to thinking about him all the time I pounded myself that week much more than once-a-day. 


Sunday, November 12, 2017

Special Lessons at Green School

At the time I attended high school, it was also quite popular for kids to attend Green Schools. Which included short, two to three day excursions out of the city, into rural nature scapes, where we would walk in forests, meadows, or hills. Our lunches were meager and handy foods we could carry in back-packs then cook over an open fire, it was usually sausages and we baked potatoes in ashes and so on. No museums, theatres, cinemas, and that kind of boring shit.

A Few weeks after beginning my second year of high school, my class and others in our year, were allowed to organize such an escapade which is loved by all pupils.

After two hours bus drive we reached a small country village surrounded by gorgeous landscapes od, green fields, a forest and a peaceful lake. Our accommodation was a large country house converted into a motel with homey restaurant, which served delicious, home-made tasting meals.

We were split by gender, all the boys from two classes were mixed in the rooms, and so were the girls. I got a room with two boys, Andrew and Mirek I barely knew them from school, but we got along pretty good.

During the day the group helped doing farmer’s work for two or three families. We experienced collecting hay from fields, using horse driven wagons.

Of the Fifty city boys and girls doing these chores, I am sure it was the first time in their lives to handle rakes and forks. Of course we fooled around like idiots, but we managed not to harm anybody. We did the work peasants for one full week. The families were very grateful and invited us for big campfire and provided us with several sacks of potatoes, home-made sausages to be grilled, and fresh vegetables.

Our teachers were kind enough to pretend not to see the bottles of spiked lemonade some kids had crafted. Our lemonade was composed of 50% juice and 50% of vodka. While the bottles circulated among us all, it happened that one teacher got herself a portion of “pupils lemonade”.

“Hmm, never tried before this brand of lemonade” she said with a big grin on her face.

Two boys had guitars and played popular scouts songs while most of the teens sang along. After a while, “pupils lemonade” presented us all the courage to sing the songs of pre-war cavalry. They were very popular, but absolutely forbidden, because they glorified Polish heroes giving a rebellious kick to the Soviet invaders.

I love music, but never sing, as I warble terribly in and out of Key. That evening I sang quite well. Apparently lemonade offered perfect pitch to my singing voice, or my ears?

Long after the midnight we finally returned to our Rural motel. The Teachers had been tolerant of our “pupils lemonade”, but that did not translate into the allowing any intimate male-female student relationships. Taking turns, they staged hall monitors in the corridors to prevent boys sneaking into girls rooms.

Back in our room, drunken from lemonade, plus sweaty and dirty after a day working in the fields, Mirek, Andrew and I we each had stripped naked, wearing only towels only wrapped around our waists. We all needed to take a shower, so we all migrated past the hall monitor to the bathroom. In this wing of the house the shower was very small, only for a single person, but we managed to get us all three in there. Seeing two boys naked, I was getting boner, so I turned back to them. I didn’t know them well and was a bit afraid of their reaction. While washing my hair I felt suddenly someone’s hand stroking my dick! Just a few strokes were enough to make me rock hard. I rinsed my hair, turned round front to them and with a less than pleasant voice I asked

“Which one of you did it?” they were a bit confused by my reaction and said nothing. I noticed they got boners too.

“Fuck! If you started something, then finish it!” I said and laughed loudly, then I grabbed Andrew’s dick. He took in his hand Mirek’s, so Mirek took mine. Laughing we jerked off each other, but it didn’t last long. Other boys were knocking on the bathroom door. We rinse, put towels at our waist towels and returned to our room.

“Shall we finish what we have started?” asked Andrew as he dropped his towel. Now I could see them well instead of cramped in that tiny shower stall…. I liked the view.

“You are right, it’s unhealthy to interrupt” I said and dropped my towel. Mirek joined us and we wanked each other.

“Are you a good skier Carlo?” Asked Mirek.

“Not at all. I only saw skiers in TV” I answered wandering what he meant.

“Okay yeah, we will teach you. Sit on the bed” I did so.

They sat on my left and right side.

“Now take our sticks in your hands and move like the skiers do” instructed me Mirek.

I laughed, as I never heard about “skier’s wanking”. I took both dicks in my hands and moved slowly, speeding up a bit.

“Oh yes! You are quite good skier!” said Andrew and grabbed my dick. Our hands speeded and Andrew passed my dick to Mirek’s hand.

“Fuck! Faster! Faster, I am close to FINISH!” moaned Mirek. He exploded with huge shot, covering his chest, belly and my hand with his cum. Andrew watched him and shortly erupted. We looked at each other and laughed.

“Nice skiing” said Andrew. We breathed heavily and smiled.

Luckily we had a washbasin in our room, so we cleaned the mess and Andrew withdraw from his bag another bottle of “lemonade”.

I sat on my bed with glass in hand, they sat on the opposite bad and we laughed, talked and sipped our drinks. I was never a big fan of vodka, so they finished a second glass before my first glass was half empty. Finally we decided to get some sleep, or we all passed out.

I woke up at the first of dawn, but didn’t want to move, keeping my eyes closed, trying to have some more sleep. Then in my lazy slumber I heard some whispering between Mirek and Andrew.

“What happens if see us?”

“He won’t. He sleeps deeply”

“Are you sure?”

“Carlo? Carlo?” I heard my name whispered, but pretended to sleep.

“Come on, he is sleeping”.

I waited a bit and slightly opened my eyes.

I was sleeping on my belly with my face turned left, so I could see the opposite bed with Mirek and Adam there laying in a 69 sucking their dicks!

Fuck! My peter jumped immediately up and I wanted to join them. I watched as my dick ached with a monster boner poking into the mattress. I couldn’t hold back any more, I decided to whisper.

“May I join?” My voice did not comply with my intent, but asked loudly, with the energy of my dick. They jumped up scared-like, their faces twisted with horror.

“You are a bad, selfish pair. I also like *ice cream” I said laughing.

“You bastard!” Andrew was mad. “You frightened me deadly”.

“Don’t talk too much, just suck my dick” I pushed my boner closer. He smiled and took my peter into his mouth. The bed was a single, quite narrow, but somehow we manage to lay in triangle. Andrew sucked me, I sucked Mirek and he sucked Andrew.

We were sucking each other, trying not to moan loudly for several minutes, then progressively about 15 seconds apart we each cummed.

“You bloody selfish cocksuckers! You wanted to deprive me of *ice cream?”

“Sorry, Carlo. We wanted *ice cream, but we were afraid of your reaction.” said Mirek.

“I see that you both are good wanking and sucking buddies. Do you fuck each other too?”

“No! We don’t. do you?

“My ass is still virgin and will remain so. How long you guys been playing around together?”

“We know each other since we were little. We are neighbors and our families are all friends. W e went to the same kindergarten, primary school, now to high school. We spent our summer holidays together” explained Andrew.

“Did you guys fuck any girls?” They hesitated for a moment, then admitted that they kissed and touched only, but nothing else.

“We dream to get one girl and to fuck her together” Andrew smiled.

“When you find such girl, call me. I will join you with great pleasure” I said.

Our lusty and wishful thinking was interrupted by loud door knocking and shouting

“Wake up! Breakfast in ten minutes!”

Breakfast served in that motel was delicious. Everything was homemade, like white cheese, hot rolls, fantastic sausages, fresh tomatoes and so on. Every kid ate a full stomach of this excellent meal. I think the girls ate more food than us boys.

That morning for three or four hours we spent exploring in a forest, collecting different mushrooms, eating blueberries, wild raspberries, blackberries and wild strawberries. Our hands and faces were black, red and may other colors from sun, wind, and natures spoils.

After the lunch we went to have fun at the lake. The water was shallow, only up to our chests, so it was difficult to swim. Instead we had fun splashing water on the girls, bouncing a big water ball and so on. Seeing all those young girls in their small bikinis caused a lot of boners, so most of us stayed with our waists under the water.

After our delicious dinner finished, we were offered sweets. Some of girls choose ice lolly’s, and had great fun teasing us. They pretended not to look at us boys, but gave us a horny show of slowly licking and sucking their ice creams.

As soon as we entered our room, we stripped naked, Andrew and Mirek pushed two beds together, and we all stripped and sucked each other. We were so excited by the girls show, that within two, three minutes of sucking we cummed.

“Fucking pervert bitches! I almost cumed in my pants watching them!” said Andrew.

We rested a bit, cleaned up our cum peckers, had some “lemonade” and talked about girls.

As I looked at those two young dicks with low hanging balls, I gathered them side by side. So I could lick and suck them both in turns. I had two sweet soft dicks and balls, eventually making them both rock hard.

“Oh yeah Carlo. You are a fucking good cocksucker” Andrew moaned loudly.

“Shut up stupid! The teachers walk the corridor” warned Mirek.

I proceeded with licking and sucking, peering up to see their faces. By their grimaces and moaning they confirmed that I was really good sucker. I didn’t hurry, I remained stationed at their tasty crotches a prolonging the play. The musky smell of his earlier cum spray lingered on Andrews balls and Mirek was oozing pre-cum. I lavished in their warm thighs as I swapped my service from dick to dick. In my indulgence they both begged for faster action, but it was my perverted pleasure to make it as long as possible It took more than fifteen minutes before I allowed them to cum..

After they shot their loads, the laid exhausted, breathing heavily.

“Wow! That was amazing! We have to do this back in Warsaw” said Andrew.

“With pleasure. If you want, I can have my other wanking and sucking buddies join in” I proposed.

“How do you know them?” Mirek wanted to know

“I know them from my class”
“Sorry man, we’d prefer not to increase circle of boys knowing our sweet secret. We are afraid someone would spread a rumor that we are gays” said Mirek.

“Are you?”

“No, we aren’t. We can’t wait to fuck girls, but in a meantime we like to experiment.”

We talked for a while, had some more “lemonade”, finally they took care of my dick and balls, licking and sucking it together. They paid me back doing it slowly and driving me crazy.

We met together several times in Warsaw for wanking, sucking, and sometimes cumming between ass-cheeks. I asked them again to meet with my other buddies, buy the refused.

* Ice Cream is also Polish slang meaning "to give a blow job".


Little Monkeys Hanging out

One time at camp, there was a funny thing which happened in our cabin. The counselor was not in the cabin at the time, so us guys were all acting goofy.

 We were all supposed to be getting ready for bed. One of the big boys jumps into the air and grabs a rafter. He kept hanging from the rafter and swinging back and forth a little. Some of the other teen age boys thinks that's pretty funny and so they did it too. Then us pip-squeak guys wanted to do it too. Only we could not jump to reach the rafter. So the big boys lifted us little boys up. So we're hanging from the rafters by our hands high above our bunks, the big boys call us little Monkeys.

One big guys say to a little one,

 "Oops lil Monkey....your pants are falling off."

Which really was just his undie band showing, but he snatched down the boy's PJ's, also his underoos came off, showing the boys peter! Some other little Monkey guys like me, were still hanging onto the rafters, then the big guys pulled down all our pants too!

We are all laughing and swinging naked. They got the idea to find a ruler and see how long our dicks was. A guy says

 "Wait a minute we'll making a ruler out of card board".

 Another guy start to measure me. It tickles as he touches to measure my peter, and I got me a sudden stiffy.

 The big kid yells,  "Hey, look this Monkey's got a stiff one."

Everbody is laughing ! The bigger boys are all jiggling and tickling them little peters. But, they all say I was the champ. But right then, the counselor comes in. There he sees four boys hanging bare from the rafters and everyone's got boners sticking out!

Counselor told the big boys, "You're a bunch of homos!"


Thursday, November 9, 2017

CAUGHT on the Bus

I was in the late fifth grade when this happened. We lived on-base at the time, but it was a base without schools of its own. So kids rode dark blue Air Force buses to and from civilian schools. As a way of maintaining discipline and guarding against rowdiness, a young airman was assigned to each bus and rode the routes back and forth with us as a calming influence.

A certain kid that I'm going to call Craig always ended up sitting near me on the bus. He was a year ahead of me. Sometimes we shared a seat but usually we sat across the aisle from each other, leaning back and forth to tell jokes or comment on whatever might be happening at the moment.

Our bus was bouncing along one afternoon when Craig slid into the aisle and leaned over to me.

"I'm going to unzip my pants because they're too tight," he told me.

This was something new. I'd had a very small amount of little-boy lookie-feelie contact when I was younger, but I didn't know whether Craig was leading up to something like that or was just giving me advance notice that he would be pulling down his zipper.

Craig got back into his seat, looked all around for any hint of danger, and opened his fly.

Then he just sat there, his pants gaping apart with a patch of white underwear visible. I kept an eye on him. Nothing happened for a little while. Then he began feeling around inside the zipper.

That went on for several minutes. He turned and gave me a look, sort of a wink plus a raised eyebrow. He reached into the open zipper, fumbled around quite a bit, and finally popped a pointed tent of white cloth into view. His little tent stuck up through his zipper, maybe only an inch or so, but very visible. All he was showing me was the straining cotton fabric of his underwear poking up, you understand, not the slightest peek at the dick that was inside that fabric.

He got my eye. "Whew, that's better," he said. From time to time he touched the white bump with his fingers. As we approached the end of the line he tucked his underwear back into his pants and closed the zipper.

Craig's little display of the point sticking up in his underwear began taking place nearly every day unless things didn't seem safe. We kept our eyes open. If there were too many kids nearby or if the airman was watching too closely Craig kept his zipper shut.

After a few days of manipulating his little white bump while I watched, he leaned over to me and said, "You better open your zipper too. We don't want your pants to get too tight."

Call it peer pressure, I guess. Craig pulled the tip of his white rod into view through his open zipper and stared at me to see if I would do the same. So I did it, feeling guilty as hell and yet also loving the forbidden danger of what I was doing.

My white lump seemed to be a trigger for Craig. He took a quick look around the bus. Holding a hand over the telltale white point sticking through his zipper, he hurried across the aisle and slid in next to me. I was feeling of myself, realizing that my thing was having one of its stiff spells.

Things escalated from there. We wiggled our white lumps at each other, snickering and giggling like mad. We had our heads together, looking at each other's rod-shaped lumps. We pulled the fabric tightly against our stiffies. We squeezed ourselves. I was loving this secret way to have fun.

But we were so focused on the white peaks poking out through our zippers that we failed to pay attention to what was going on around us.

I believe Craig and I were on the verge of doing the unthinkable - feeling the bump in the other guy's underwear instead of our own. But something interfered.

"Men!" barked a deep voice right in our ears.

Oh, shit! There stood the airman, imposing in his fatigues and boots and cap, staring down at Craig and me and the conspicuous white bumps poking out of our flies. He had come from the back of the bus and we'd never known it.

You never saw two zippers close so fast. I was unbelievably embarrassed. I could feel the redness spreading from my neck to the top of my head.

Not only embarrassed, but frightened. Craig and I were in very deep doo-doo for military dependents. A brief word from the airman to his CO would work its way up the command chain, and our dads would receive official incident reports that would circulate through the system and then go into their personnel files. I was in sheer panic. This was the thing every family dreaded - a kid getting their father in trouble.

The young airman stood staring down at us for what seemed to be an eternity. I couldn't bear to look at him. Eventually I had to raise my eyes so I could get a feeling for what was about to happen to me.

To my amazement, the dude had a funny grin on his face. He seemed to be trying not to laugh.

Finally he spoke, using a soft and pleasant voice completely unlike his first yell: "Not in public places, men. Save it for later. Understood?"

Craig and I must have given him wide eyes of disbelief that he wasn't shouting at us. "Yessir! Yessir! we agreed, using all the military etiquette our families had drilled into us. My dad was a master sergeant and far outranked this airman, but I wasn't about to split hairs. "Yessir, Yessir" both Craig and I kept repeating.

The airman turned and marched up the aisle. I was still jittery but when I got off the bus he nodded pleasantly at me. I never heard a word about my indiscretion with Craig, and I've felt indebted to that young airman ever since.

I was scared to hang out with Craig after that. It wasn't until two or three years later, when I ran into an old friend named Connor, (see Best Friends, posted on Aug. 17, 2013)  that I discovered the delight of an intimate friendship.

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Some Separate Embarrasing Bus incidences.

Back when I was in high school and riding the bus home all the time, there's this little dude that rubbed one out in the seat across from me. Guess he thought he was big shit. He's got a boner in his pants and doing his fingers on it. I can tell. Started slow but after while gets faster and faster. Little dude made me hard but I don't do it coz he might see. Ever day I watch for him to do it some more. Sometimes he would get a bone to mash but did not whack any more.

Anon 1

When you're young you often do things believing naively that nobody knows. I remember being on a bus with a boner, must have been 14 or 15. I had to get up to get off, I remember thinking nobody will notice the tent in my trousers. Haha, everybody on the bus probably saw! oh to be young again.

Anon 2

 The schoolbus gave me many chances to see strange things. Once, when I was too young to know what was going on, I was sitting next to the aisle and an older boy in the same seat was by the window. He put a sweater over his lap. Right away the sweater was bumping up and down. I guess I stared at that bumping motion and the boy saw me looking. He told me to mind my own business so I turned my head but kept watching the bumping sweater with the corner of my eye. At the time, it was a big mystery to me, what he was doing.

I now know, he must have ejaculated in his sweater. You've got to wonder how he explained that mess to his mother.

Anon 3

Thursday, November 2, 2017

He KNEW!!!

My dad went to a business convention for a week every summer. Sometimes the whole family went with him if it was at a good vacation place. The year I was fifteen we went to Las Vegas and stayed at a hotel with a roof-top swimming pool.

Dad had meetings all day. My mother and sister slept-in during the mornings but I would be up kind of early, exploring the hotel and trying to sneak into the gambling hall (never succeeded). I'd often be the first person at the pool for an early swim. One day while swimming I met this terrific guy I’m going to call Carson. He was close to my age (within a year) and like me he liked to swim in the mornings when few people were at the pool. He was a black dude. One of the things that fascinated me about him was how his wet skin would shine in the sun. Carson was real skinny and wore a baggy Caribbean swimsuit. I could see he wore bright undies which appeared sometimes when he moved because of his loose waist-band

A couple of days into the week we were laying on lounges, taking in the sun and shooting the bull. The late-teen lifeguard climbed down and talked to us if nobody else was in the pool. Carson was up on current movies and bands and games. We really became friends.

There was a pause in the conversation. Then Carson said he needed to go to the restroom (a small building near the pool), and did I want to come along?

Carson went into a stall and said he would be busy for a few minutes. We kept talking, me standing and leaning against the wall while waiting for him.

Very quickly I realized that Carson was not dumping a load, he was working on his dick. It was unmistakable. The shadow of his arm could be seen on the floor, shaking with the rhythm of jacking. He moved his feet around. There was no doubt about it.

I’m not going to pretend I was a virgin about masturbation. What Carson was doing immediately triggered a response in my pants. While Carson worked on himself my own peter stretched out and stood up.
The question was, how should I handle the situation? Did Carson think he was giving himself a private wank? Was he strangely naive, unaware of what he was communicating to me? I leaned against the wall and squeezed my hard-on.

Finally I made up my mind and stepped into the other stall. I locked the door, dropped my swimsuit and sat on the pot. I squeezed and wiggled my boner a few times while trying to see if Carson was still pumping himself. A few glances under the wall and I knew the answer was "yes." Conversation had ceased and we were going after it side-by-side, one white guy and one black guy happily jacking off in adjacent stalls on the roof of a Las Vegas hotel.

After what seemed like a long silence, Carson spoke softly: "You doin’ okay over there?"
"Yeah," I answered. "You?"
"Oh yeah," he whispered. "Like you, real good."

We continued jacking. Soon a strange little noise, sort of a stifled and whispered "eep" reached me from the other stall. I knew without a doubt that Carson had completed his mission.
Then came the sound of toilet paper unrolling. Carson pulled up his trunks and said, "I’ll be out at the pool."

"Alright," I told him.

My moment arrived within seconds. I slid back on the seat and ejaculated massively into the pot.
After we got back to the pool the lifeguard wandered over, nodded toward the restroom building, and said, "Everything okay in there?"

I looked at Carson. He looked at me. Finally one of us said "I guess."
The lifeguard said "Good" and went back to his perch.

"He knows!" Carson whispered.

"Naah," I said. "You’re paranoid."

We resumed swimming and sunning ourselves. Neither one of us made any reference to what we had just done, although Carson had to know what I did just like I knew what he did. But as we swam, it was as if our pursuit of dual climaxes had never occurred. The lifeguard stayed on his stand, occasionally looking at us.
Not until twenty-four hours later did we acknowledge the previous day’s activity. We had been in and out of the water a few times that next morning, joked with the lifeguard, towelled ourselves off - just normal stuff. We were stretched out on lounges when Carson asked, "You want to go to the bathroom?"

"If you do."

"Might as well, then."

This time I went right into the stall next to him. Soon we were pumping away on our dicks and peeking around to make sure both of us knew exactly what we were up to.

"Did you ever mess with a black guy?" Carson asked in a subdued voice, nearly a whisper.


That seemed to be the end of the conversation. We were still jacking, still moving our feet around, still well aware of what we were doing. Then Carson says, "You can look if you want to. Fine with me. Maybe see what the black dude's got."

Now, how was I supposed to manage that? I was not familiar with the methods of cruising in a public restroom. Should I try to look under the wall? Or pull my Speedo up so I could leave the stall and look through the gap by Carson's door. Or stand on the pot and look over the wall? Since I was the silent majority, I voted for the third option, silently climbing onto the toilet and leaning over the partition. 
Carson was stretched out on his crapper, feet and legs fully extended and torso leaning back against the plumbing. He gave me a brief look and concentrated on showing me "Exhibit A." For several seconds I stared at his impressive tool. I’d never seen one like it. Its head was sort of dark maroonish brown, while the shaft was deepest satin black. The dude slowly pumped it, pausing occasionally to wiggle and squeeze himself.

After a moment Carson said, "My turn?"

So I sat down on my pot and assumed the same stretched-out pose that I’d just observed.
Carson’s head came over the wall.

"Oh, dude!" he said. "Nice one, bro. Nice one."
Carson kept standing, kept watching. "You about to blow your wad, man?"


"I’m gonna watch. Okay? Okay if I watch?"


Within seconds I was into the feelings, slowing down as the moment crept nearer and nearer. Carson’s eyes were fixed on my crotch, his mouth slightly open as he watched me.

What should I do about cumming? Shoot it in the pot again? Or into a wad of butt paper?
Now Carson began shaking while he watched. "I’m doin’ it too!" His quiet voice trembled. "Doin’ it with you, bro!"

I simply let the ejaculation fire into open air. It was a substantial volley of squirts. Some of them landed on my bathing suit. Some fired up into the air and dropped onto the floor or hit the metal partition. Then more stuff came oozing out of my softening prick after the main squirts ended.

Carson was trembling like a two-cycle lawnmower, still staring over the wall while rapidly pumping himself. "Good shot! Good shot! I saw you cum. I’m gonna– I’m gonna–"

I don’t know how to spell the breathy sounds Carson made while he stood on his toilet and reached his climax while watching me get mine. He repeated bursts of breath with words hidden inside them, like all he could get out of his mouth was air: "Almost! Cumming! Now! Now--  Suddenly he swallowed and forced out the words "Gonna cum!" with the enthusiasm of a first-time jacker.

That announcement was followed by a strangely constricted series of whispered "Oh's." Then a noise that wasn't a word at all, something like a repeated series of hard "C....C.....C" sounds that seemed to be an effort to say the word "Cum." Another moment of silence during which he seemed to pound himself at 60 miles an hour. And then a totally screwy exhale noise that sounded kind of like "HOWF!" Having got that word out, he stood still and panted for breath.

After a few seconds he looked down at me. I was still sitting on the pot, watching my dick pull back into its sheath. As if I hadn't figured it out, Carson told me softly, "I came."

When we walked out of the restroom on our way back to the pool, the lifeguard gave us a long funny look.
"He knows!" Carson said again.

"How could he?"

"He knows. I can tell. Did you see him looking at us? He knows, man, he knows!"

Carson and I had one more swim together the next morning. Within a few minutes of meeting each other at the pool we headed to the restroom. Carson demonstrated something that I’d never experienced before, kneeling on the floor and sticking your boner under the partition.

Both of us knew we'd never run into each other again. We went out of our way to make this final rendezvous worthwhile. The dude and I brought each other to jumbo ejaculations, each of us tenderly milking the other and leaving substantial puddles of mingled semen on the floor.

The lifeguard watched every step we took on the way back to our lounges.
"Everything okay, guys?" he yelled at us.

"Yeah," I told him.

"He knows!" Carson said once more.

"Is he gonna turn us in?"

"Naw. Look at him again! He’s maybe a high school guy. He's freakin'  ‘cuz he couldn’t leave his stand and do it with us."

The lifeguard didn’t take his eyes off of us the rest of the morning. He also couldn't get the front of his swim trunks adjusted comfortably despite constant effort.

He did know.