Thursday, April 26, 2018

Lessons in the Recreation Center Restroom

As a kid I use to spend a lot of time at the recreation building in our city park. The main attraction was not sports or games. It was a small peep hole in the restroom.

Here was my play, I sat on the pot waiting for a guy to come in. Then I scrunched down to look through the hole and watch him piss. If I was lucky I got to see his penis which was the whole point of hanging out in the restroom. One day a boy pissed but didn't immediately leave. He kept standing at the urinal. He was wiggling his dick around. While I watched, it got hard. In a minute he began sliding his hand back and forth on it. I became painfully hard myself. While I peeked through the hole at the jacking boy, I constantly played with my own dick. Within seconds the other boy appeared to produce another stream of urine. I was too dumb to know that he had reached a climax and ejaculated. After he left I kept playing with my stiffie. A strange feverish feeling came over me. It was so frightening that I quickly pulled up my pants and went straight home. My dick remained hard.

Sometime later an involuntary load of unknown stuff oozed into my briefs. That was scary. I made myself promise that I would never play with my penis again. However, I kept remembering the boy pumping his boner in the restroom. Just thinking about the boy's moving hand and stiff dick made me hard. After resisting temptation for several days, I went back to the rec center. No one jacked off while I was in the restroom, but I remained totally stiff while watching boys come in to piss. I could not keep my hand away from my erection. After I'd been in the stall for quite a while I found myself jiggling my dick very gently. Once again the feeling grew alarming and I hurried home.

This time I went into our bathroom at home, locked the door, and examined my erection. Every time I touched it, the frightening feeling got more intense. I reached a point where I could not leave my penis alone. I kept jiggling and wiggling it until the feeling seemed to explode inside of me. At the same time a strange blast of thick piss (my interpretation) shot out of my dick. I thought I was going to die. I was so scared that I pledged once again never to play with my stiffie. But, just like before, I was drawn back to the rec center to observe penises through the peep hole. I promised myself that I would not "upset" my own dick.

But one day while watching all the pissers I found myself jiggling my little stiffie while a guy stood with his prick exposed. And this time I knew that I was not going to be able to stop. As the boy stood pissing, my second ejaculation fired all over me and my clothes and the stall. However, I realized that I knew what was going to happen, and instead of being scared I accurately predicted my climax by telling myself "Here it comes!"

After that I became a frequent jacker, deliberately masturbating while watching other boys pee and occasionally getting a real thrill when a boy would pump out his own load at the urinals. I was always aware of getting closer, closer, closer to ejaculation, telling myself in my mind, "Here... it... COMES!"


Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Scrub-up, Soap-em, and Squirt

This story makes me think the overnight guest from Church was slightly older than the author whom that kid stayed with, or maybe the same age but a little more mature.

I remember spending the night at a family reunion with a cousin that was somewhat older. I was thirteen. When we were getting ready to shower he asked me if I wanted to shower together. He said we could scrub each other. He was very low-key about it, not pushy.

Well, we did shower together. From the moment he took his boxers off, throughout the whole shower, his dick was hard. We scrubbed each other real good except for our privates. He washed his own dick himself like I washed mine. He was so hard that it stuck straight out and looked to me like it was stretched out to its max. Mine was smaller but I got a bone too while he was soaping me.

The second night we showered together again. After a little while he said if I wanted to I could go ahead and wash his thing for him and he would do mine. So of course we were both boned up again. He said he would do me first. He soaped up his washcloth and washed my balls and my dick real good. I got so hard that I knew I would have to jack off pretty soon but wasn't thinking about both of us doing it together.

When I started washing his junk he told me to scrub his peter back and forth with my washcloth. Pretty soon he is telling me how good it feels. He wanted to wash mine some more. My dick was straining like crazy. He asked if I wanted to do him again. Right away we were both sliding our soapy wash-cloths back and forth on each others boners.

It didn't take long until he was asking me whether I ever made stuff squirt when I was playing with my dick. I told him yes. He said good and that it was about to happen to him. He told me to keep rubbing his boner kind of slow with the soapy washcloth and then said it was coming.

He shot first and then he jacked me with his bare fingers until I came. We did it again the next night and also once in bed where he gave me a major tickling. He was a very nice dude and I never thought about him being more advanced.


Bad Boys and Brothers

This experience took place around the time that I was in third and fourth and fifth grade and living with my parents in a seedy neighborhood of unpaved streets. All us little kids were cautioned to stay away from certain "bad boys" who lived in the middle of our block.

My young friends and I were so sheltered that we didn't know exactly what the brothers did that gave them a bad reputation. They were a little older than we were and they made life miserable for us (and everybody else) whenever they got a chance.  We knew there was more to their meanness than we could understand, something that only the adults really grasped.

Years later it became known that the boys' father was in jail and the mother was alcoholic. There was also a hunch that the boys (at least the two older ones) had bi-polar swings in personality that were sometimes violent. From what we kids observed, the boys were cruel to people's pets. They often snuck out of their windows at night, making the cops suspicious because they were loitering around way after dark. For that reason they were sometimes escorted home in a police car which they seemed to enjoy. I know now that they also engaged in shoplifting, burglary, racial bullying and criminal mischief.

I didn't know those details as a kid, though, just that the boys were "bad." I was cautious to stay on the public sidewalk when I passed their house on the way to see one of my friends. If the bad boys were at home they would yell and mock as I passed. Once they doused me with the hose. Sometimes they followed me or shouted at me to come in and play with them. That frightened me. I was afraid that they would haul me kicking and screaming into their house and I would never get out alive.

Sometimes I took the alley to my friend's house instead of the front sidewalk. This route was dangerous also. The little delinquents once chased me down the alley until I ran gasping and crying up to my friend's back door. His mother saw it all from the kitchen window and yelled at the brothers that she never wanted them near her house again. The next day her car had four flats.

Today the boys would probably be called psychopathic.

There came a time when the two older ones were convicted of auto theft. Fourteen and fifteen -- and already had a criminal record. They were sent away to detention. Jimbo, their younger brother who was somewhat close to my age, was left behind. Now lacking the older guys' influence, he appeared lost but no longer a threat, sort of useless without his brothers to back him up.

One day he was out in his backyard when I passed along the alley.

"Hey, come here!" he called to me. "I need some help."

He was trying to repair a bicycle whose chain had come off the sprockets, and needed another pair of hands. The two of us together fixed the bike, and then Jimbo said he needed to piss but didn't want to go in the house. I was embarrassed by the word "piss" and astonished at the idea of urinating outside, but of course we were soon peeing together at the back fence.

One thing led to another and we became frequent piss pals, revealing only a brief glimpse of our peters as we daringly let them poke out of our open zippers for a quick pee and then cramming them right back again.

Then one day Jimbo said rather proudly that he wanted to show me something. He pulled his pants way down to exhibit his entire package and said, "Look! Hair!"

He did indeed have a few little filaments above his dick. I was completely stunned by the incident. Not just by Jimbo showing off his entire prick and balls, but also by the discovery that he wore no underpants.

"You can tickle my hair if you want to," he confided. We entered a phase of touching and massaging each other. Jimbo always became erect. Soon I was growing stiffies also, but neither one of us was far enough into puberty to have an ejaculation. The massages always ended with each of us generously playing with the other guy's stiff business.

Once I got over my guilt at us touching each other's off-limits spots, Jimbo became my most important friend. I felt like I was doing him a favor because nobody else would hang out with him. Besides that I was sorry for him because he apparently couldn't afford underwear. And, face it, I enjoyed the mutual tickling and touching that we gave each other.

Our friendship lasted about six months. That's when the older brothers returned. A black curtain instantly descended between Jimbo and me. The older brothers were bitter about their incarceration, and their jail buddies had taught them a new bag of tricks. They were more angry and more violent than before. Every family in the neighborhood was their target. Jimbo sometimes gave me a wistful look when we happened to see each other, as if he was apologizing for turning against me. I think maybe he wanted me to understand that he had no choice. To me he seemed pitiful, cussing and stealing and threatening kids along with his brothers -- and yet wearing no underpants.

The boys were playing with a stolen gun one night and accidentally fired it through a wall, striking their mother in the arm. Jimbo came running to our house for help (my mother was a nurse). He stayed on our front porch, crying, until a policeman came looking for him.  All three boys were sent off to a mysterious "clinic" that I suppose was a juvenile mental health facility. After release they each went to separate foster homes.

Why tell this story? It still haunts me and there's no other forum where I could tell all the details. I believe that I knew the "real" Jimbo for six months. The two of us enjoyed our private activities with each other, loving our tickling fingers and stiffening boners. We never talked about the mean stuff he used to do with his brothers. But once the two big boys were released from detention Jimbo relapsed and they all became hard-core little petty criminals. Sometimes I flatter myself into thinking that having me for a friend over the long haul could have changed Jimbo.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

The Problem with AJ's Upward Pointer

I visited my grandmother quite frequently when I was growing up, I was at her house every other weekend and during most school holidays.  When Summer vacation would start I'd stay up to two weeks at a time come home for a few days and go back. My grandmother always spoiled me even with the extended stays, I had my own room at her house that had everything a kid could want. The latest and best action figures everything from Stretch Armstrong to Andre the Giant, complete Lego sets, board games, video games like Sega Genesis and later without even asking for it she bought me a Super Nintendo, I had a TV with a VCR and VHS library to go with it - speaking of libraries I liked to read so my room had a shelf full of young adult fiction; some of my favorite titles were Scary Stories to Tell in The Dark, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and my very guilty pleasure The Baby Sitters Club which was a series of books aimed at preteen girls.
With all of that you would think that I'd be completely content, I was definitely happy I enjoyed the toys and games but there were no children my age that lived near my grandmother. All the kids I saw were either teenagers who were already driving and wouldn't want anything to do with me anyway or much younger kids who were barely out of diapers. I took after my extroverted grandmother she always had friends over at her house but of course none of them were my age. It wasn't as much fun playing by myself, no matter how many things I decided to do I'd eventually be bored. I never complained to my grandmother because she already did so much to keep me entertained aside from all of the toys and games she bought, she spent quality time with me.  We went to parks, museums, libraries, we even did a few art projects and science experiements. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or seem ungrateful.
It was the early part of Summer vacation and I was getting ready for a two week stay at my grandmother's house. I suppose that my mother recognized some reluctance in me to spend such a long time with my grandmother. My mother said "I thought you liked going to grandma's".
"I do it's just that-" I paused abruptly I was silent while trying to find the most diplomatic way to say what I wanted to say but instead my mom encouraged me to speak freely. "There are no kids" the words burst through my lips as if pressure had built up behind them. It was that simple there were no people in my age range not even in the neighborhood and none of her friends ever brought kids that were close to my age. At home, I had toys and friends, that was my one and only issue with grandma's house but I didn't want my mom to say anything but I think she did because the first day I went to grandma's she showed me a photo of a smiling boy with messy brown hair, the boy looked about 10 years old. She explained that the boy in the photo was the grandson of her friend from the senior center and she thought a boy my age should have fun with another boy the same age. I was embarassed because I was certain my mom told her what I said but I was also grateful because I really did want to play with another kid.
Early the next morning at my grandmother's house, I heard her let some people in. One of the voices was from another child and I got up and got dressed. I was on my way out to meet this other boy when I encountered him coming into my room.  I was a little startled to open the door and see him right in front of me but I quickly got over that and introduced myself right away; I'm not shy at all. "My name is Roman" He wasn't shy either "My name is Alex but I go by AJ". Introductions out of the way, we went into my room. The first thing he saw was the babysitters club book. "I like these books too". Already, we found something in common.
I liked AJ we had so much fun that after just a couple of hours I felt like I had known him just as long as I had known the friends I grew up with in my neighborhood. I didn't want AJ to leave and he didn't want to leave so our respective grandparents arranged for us to have a sleepover that very night. We didn't do anything out of the norm for boys our age at a sleepover, we just stayed up late, microwaved some Hot Pockets and watched a video.
 Fast Forward: AJ and I hang out daily for two weeks, his grandmother brings him everyday and occasionaly lets him sleep over. When I went home I was looking forward to spending time with him, at this point nothing unusual has taken place or has been thought of we just became really good friends in a short amount of time. One of the days that I was at home with my mom she took me and a friend to see Batman Returns and AJ also happened to see the same movie. When I went back to my grandmother's house, my grandma and AJ's decided to let us see a movie by ourselves and we would be picked up afterwards. It was a big deal to us to be allowed to be in the theater without an adult even if for just a couple of hours. We both chose to see Batman Returns for the second time and I think it was rated PG 13 but nobody said anything to us. It was also a matinee, the movie had been out for a few weeks by this point and it was just a slow day at the theater. As the previews started I got up and AJ asked where I was going," to the bathroom" I whispered. "I gotta go too" AJ said.
We went to the restroom which was empty and took the urinals right next to each other. "I can't go when my weiner is like this" AJ said as he pointed down. I looked down and his penis was erect and curved upward and without waiting for me to say anything he said "It's stiff" and he moved it to show me that it was inflexible. I whispered "mine gets like that too but it points straight out", AJ asked if he could see but I was flaccid. "It's soft right now" I said as I turned towards him so that he could see it limp and hanging there. "Feel how stiff mine is" I reached over and felt AJ's penis. It was stiff but the skin was warm and soft and suddenly my penis began to expand rapidly and I let him see it go from hanging to pointing straight out. "Can I feel it?" AJ asked. I let him and his hand on my bare dick for only a few seconds was like electricty shooting through my body.
As for his problem I told AJ to just pee because someone would clean it up. AJ urinated out of his upward facing boner and the pee went up high like a fountain and landed on the wall. Luckily, nobody came in the restroom. We went back in the theater but about 15 minutes into the movie I asked AJ if he needed to use the restroom again. We went again, by that time AJ's pee had ran down onto the floor into a wide puddle. We went to a different set of urinals. I took my erect boner out and told AJ he could touch it again, AJ did the same thing and we stood side by side in that movie theater's restroom touching each other's erections until we heard the door swing open. We went back in the theater and decided to sit in the far back on a row by ourseleves. I slid my hand down his pants and he slid his hand down my pants, we went back to the restroom a few more times. We both had a new addiction that day, our sleepovers took on a different tone from that point forward.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Learning About My Stiffie

 My experience of how I learned about jacking happened like this. A boy from church spent the night with me, it was because his mother went somewhere out of town. So he had to have a place to stay two nights. My room had twin beds of which one was mine and one for company. But he was the first guy to stay over. He had on pajamas to sleep in.

 After while he started banging his dick under his covers. He raised the covers up and jacked real bumpy. Then it stopped. Next night he did it again. How dumb was I? Without knowing what was really happening . It was very obvious where his hands were, and working busily about his privates. I pretty much knew he was playing with his dick But what was to gain by all that effort?

 After he went home to his own house, the very next night I tried some different ways to play with my stiffie. In a minute I went to pumping it with my hand (which some guys say is built in to your nature). I pumped a lot. All of a sudden I was sweating and feeling crazy. Then the stuff came out. It got all over my sheets and pajamas and I felt real freaky. The other boy must of shot into TP or something. I did not know to catch the cum. That was the way I learned about it. If that boy did not jack off I wonder how long it would take for me to learn about it. PS He did it all under the covers, not where I could see.


Saturday, April 14, 2018

Firefighter Wizzer Game

I wrote this earlier and accidentally erased it but second time is the charm...

 I don't consider a Kindergarten game that I played with other boys a sexual experience so I still maintain that I did not start until 10 years old. I used to play a game in kindergarten that certainly had an element of "fun times" specifically I'm talking about exposed penises. The only way you could play the game was with an exposed "weenie" or "wiener" as we used to call them. It was called Firefighter and 2, 3, 4 or 5 sometimes more of us boys would use the same urinal or go into the stall and stand around the toilet sometimes we'd even use the trash can. We'd try combine our urine streams while pissing into the toilet bowl or urinal there was really no point in the game but some boys would start and stop there urine stream releasing in short blasts while saying "fire one, fire two, fire three" and so on. If an unfortunate insect or spider was in the restroom that poor creature would be the target of Kindergarten boys piss.

  We stopped using the trash can after the school's custodian went around to every class and lecturing the boys about finding pee in the trash. I don't think he thought that the kindergartners did it. In order to play Firefighter using the trashcan somebody had to tilt it down. The custodian likely didn't believe a bunch of 5 year old kids put that much effort into pissing in the waste receptacle. Instead he probably thought it was the older kids who did it since they were proven responsible for dried paper towels on the ceiling that looked like stalagmites. It was the courtesy of the Kindergarten class that the trash probably smelled like a street on skid row (urine). I figure that it smelled if not I wonder how the custodian found out. The receptacle was taken out of the boys restroom and left outside in the hallway.

 Firefighter was sometimes played outside and I was never interested in joining in, it was just much too risky. The playground monitors were always looking for trouble and a bunch of Kindergartners standing in a circle was worthy of at least an investigation. I know that my friends were almost caught. I don't consider this a sexual experience because yes, I did see penises but I didn't look at them. Seeing and looking are two different things. I didn't get interested in seeing anyone in particular, didn't look at anyone in a different way after I had seen their penis and I certainly do not remember being particularly aroused. The game was just naughty and fun but not in a sexual way. One kid, always followed other kids into the restroom including myself whether he had to pee or not so maybe for him it might count as an experience. The Firefighter game to me just does not rank like that but it is a fun little thing that had potential to be something more but definitely wasn't.


Thursday, April 12, 2018

Helping to Do an Exercise

 When I was around 12 I was very interested in other boys dicks. I didn't know about masturbation and had no clue about anything related to sex. I made an "outdoor restroom" behind some big bushes in the alley. I would invite other boys to pee there. In that way I got to see their dicks and also showed off mine to certain boys that I thought were not likely to tell.

A boy about a year older than me came over to play ever so often and after we got to know each other I asked him if he wanted to see my restroom. I had pipes and funnels and hoses and a lot of junk for boys to pee into. He not only wanted to see it, he immediately got his own dick out and also wanted me to get mine out. Every time he got his dick out it was erect. I thought that was its natural condition. He felt my little dickie while he wiggled his boner.

 His dick was the first erection I ever saw. It amazed me that a dick could be so stiff. we would feel each other for a while and then he would tell me it was time to exercise his dick. The first time I saw him do his exercise I was blown away. Exercise meant putting his hand around his dick and pumping back and forth a whole lot. He told me he was making his dick get stronger by exercising it. The first time I saw him climax I was amazed at the stuff firing out of his dick. Whenever he reached fulfillment I thought the exercise caused him to piss unusually thick urine. He pumped for a while and then let me feel for a minute and then pumped some more. When he ejaculated, the stuff that I thought was thick piss shot into the bushes.

 He would tell me that I helped him real good. I was very careful about that guy. I did not want my other friends to know about him because I was afraid they might all start playing together and leave me out while helping him exercise his dick.


Wednesday, April 11, 2018

The Church Basement Rituals

I remembered this after reading "My Bad Habit"

I was 11 at the time and every Sunday during church I usually  had to go pee. Of course I am hoping another boy would follow me to the bathroom in the basement. It had those big urinals this started at the floor and went up about as tall as a boy like me stands. Once a boy did follow me in, he was older than me.

"I been watching you." he said.
I was frozen as I stood at the urinal with a hard dick. Daringly, he stood beside me also with a hard dick. He just looked over at me, smiled and nodded. I reached over to grab his dick. His was a lot longer than mine. I felt his balls, and thought, Wow these are big balls. I noticed they had a few hairs randomly sprouting. But I liked feeling his longer dick. He let out a moan as I did a stroke or two. It seemed he liked it. I jacked his dick until he shot his cum.

He reached over and grab my hard dick, and feeling around on my balls. He says,
"Nice dick and balls, no hair..."
He jacked on my dick until I had my clear cum

Without a word, we put our dicks back in our jean, he smiled and I smiled back and we left. We had a jacking ritual every Sunday. No one ever caught on to us. I kind of liked going to church for that.

Farm Boy

Punching My Class Clown

  Was there ever a kid that did not sprout a stiffie in class!  I'm not proud of it, but I sat with my hand in my pocket and fingered my hard peter one time in a Speech class. If the slight tingle when you first touch it through your pants, sends a jolt through you, then you just have to keep caressing it. A simple accidental touch turns into something that overshadows everything around you. In seconds my dick's hard and demands more adjustments, two finger strokes and finally the thumb comes to the party. The life of the party is standing tall and holding court for any finger who will nudge or prod the jocular host.

 You guessed it, I am full-on wanking in class....So I got faster and faster and more anxious to force a climax. Finally I came in my pants. That was pretty gross. All this while people read paragraphs at the front of the room. My lap must have been really bumping. When the cum spurted out I felt like everybody in the room knew what I was up to. But nobody looked at me and nobody ever said anything.


Monday, April 9, 2018

My Secret Tree

 I do not many comments on here, but try to post something. Everybody has many memories, which is different for ever body.

Okay here goes-
When I was a wee guy, maybe four and five, we lived a few blocks from my grandmother. My mother walk me to the bus stop and waited for the bus. She put me on the bus and told the driver to let me get off at Clifford street, which is where my grandmother was waiting at the bus stop. I get off the bus and walk to her house with her. That happened a lot of times for me to get to her house.

When I get a little bigger maybe in school I walked by myself to wait for the bus. Not with my mother or grandmother. At the corner of our street is a big ever-green tree in someone's side yard. Right where you wait for the bus. One day I had to piss, so I go behind the tree and piss.

It smells all nice like Christmas. My pee it goes on the branches and needles. This became a ritual, every time I ride the bus,  I piss inside that tree.With the thrill of being naughty and almost in public view, sometimes I play with my pecker. Feeling sort of funny to get it out right there, it was very brave.

Lots later I think that might be where I can go jack. But I never did it. It did not feel as safe like when I was little. However, I sure did love to pee in that big ever-green tree.


Weird Fantasies

I don't know who can relate but I used to have horrible thoughts when I was a teenager and sometimes I'd get erect over those thoughts, sometimes I'd masturbate. I always felt guilty afterwards but all I did was fantasize about things I never acted.

 One time when I was 15 years old and at my friend's house. His little sister came in the room wearing nothing but her panties, no shirt, no pants. He starts yelling at her to get out and calling out to his mom but while all that commotion was taking place I was staring at his sister with a very stiff boner. The little sister was only 9 and I felt bad about having those thoughts, I wondered if I was capable of the unthinkable.

 Another time, my young male cousin only 5 was naked and I stared and got a boner I went into the bathroom and blew a tremendous load into the toilet paper. My younger brother's 8 year old little friend was laying back in our room with no shirt on and the shorts were down to the V part of the body. Maybe I wanted to pull them down because I knew that a fraction of an inch below were all his "parts". I tried to think of a way for it to look like an accident but I didn't do it. I did feel very bad though that I wanted to do it. My brother was 8 years younger than I was, I never had fantasies about him but I think it was because I saw him naked every single day, there was no mystery.

I did have a very vivid dream about my brother where I got him and his friend to play with my dick until I cummed. I actually cummed in my bed. It was a wet dream, but also a nightmare because I thought that I really had done it even after waking up. It took a few moments for me to realize that none of that had actually taken place and I looked over at my little brother and his friend who were asleep.

I went into the restroom and thanked my lucky stars that none of that had really happened. I hated my fantasy life as a teenager but I did get it under control and never acted on any of my fantasies. I really wish that when I was in my teen years I had a good friend my age who was fine with jacking off and doing sexual things it might have cut down on the weird fantasies.


Saturday, April 7, 2018

Lance's Captivating Floral Allure

Our newest Author Romes has shared below a few words on some of his nicer experiences, besides the horror event with Jeremy, he had some fun with pals.

 The years that I was active were great, I started at 10 and had a 5 year run. One of my best memories was with a jack off pal when I was 11-13 years old. I used to ride my bike to Lance's house, his neighbor had a flower garden that covered her yard, flowers on the fence, flowers on trellis's. I could smell the flowers when I turned down his block especially on a warm day, but even on colder days I could still faintly smell the flowers. The smell of those flowers always made me excited because I knew I was close to his house. We would do things in his backyard sometimes and we could smell the flowers.The smell of flowers reminds me of having fun with Lance.

We were sometimes joined by another person, either a very chubby kid named Brian who had a fairly tiny penis until it woke up and actually sprang to a decent size or Lance's cousin who at age 11 had the longest, fattest penis out of all of us but by the time we were 13, we both had caught up to him. Sadly we never had any secret play sessions of Brian and Lance's cousin at the same time.


Friday, April 6, 2018

My Bad Habit

 I just read this story. That revival singer coulda been me many, many years ago.

  My grandfather sang in a gospel quartet that traveled far and wide. I went with them whenever I could work it around school. The men introduced me as Angel Boy. I started as a boy soprano and developed into a tenor. I sang with the quartet or as a soloist. I knew every hymn and gospel song from memory. I knew a lot of bible verses.

I enjoyed singing gospel,  but I had one habit that would have ruined me. The most important thing in my life was masturbation. To hear people clap and yell Amen was all well and good but feeling the stirring of my dick and the tingling of my balls when I needed a wank was what I lived for. Sometimes I would go to a church restroom during intermission, lock the door and stand in a stall edging myself until big bursts of cum would blast out. Then go back and sing some more. But I never jacked while staying with a host family.


Thursday, April 5, 2018

The Aftermath of Rejection

This is an additional update by the Author on Jeremy's Rejection.

Jeremy's rejection pretty much ended my special fun times with other boys because I was so afraid that I would be rejected again. It wasn't just rejection but humiliation especially the ongoing humiliation that Jeremy dished out, not just that day but every day when one of his friends would give me strange looks or point at me when I was outside.

 I met other boys after Jeremy who I think may have wanted to fool around but I was always second guessing myself so unless a boy was brave enough to tell me in no uncertain terms what he wanted to do then nothing would happen. No boy, ever did that after the Jeremy incident although I can think of two that I believe were dropping strong hints. However, I thought Jeremy was dropping a "strong hint" and I was obviously wrong so you can take that with a grain of salt.


There will be an upcoming post on better times for Romes nicer guys soon on here.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Delayed but NOT Denied

In eighth grade English, last class of the day, I sat in the second desk in the row next to the chalkboard.

From my desk I had an oblique view out the classroom door, giving me a look at the clock mounted on the wall of the corridor. I would steal looks at the clock during class, counting the minutes till the final bell. The second hand slowly dragged around the clock's face, making me wish that I could speed up time.

One afternoon in English I had a problem. There was an insistent erection in my pants that was not going away. Dropping a jacket over my lap, I privately rubbed and mashed my boner, secretly enjoying the sensations. Then I realized that I was making myself dangerously horny. My dick had progressed to a condition of genuine arousal. Now I was in a fine fix. I couldn't leave my boner alone because it constantly called attention to itself. But if I kept on messing with it, I was going to climax in a burst of cum right there at my desk.

I glanced at the clock. Fourteen minutes until the bell. Fourteen minutes! Unbearable!

"Leave yourself alone," I thought. "Get your hand away from your damn dick! Sit here as still and quiet as you can." That was good advice, but hard to follow. Maybe I should pay attention to the teacher. What is he droning on about? Oh, yeah. "Huckleberry Finn."

Time dragged along. By now the bell should be ringing. I was in agony over my boner, yet forcing myself to leave my dick alone and listen to the teacher.

Long enough, I thought. I allowed myself to look at the clock again. Oh, Hell! Only three minutes had passed!

My dick was sort of pulsing now, begging for attention and aching to deliver a cumshot.

What page were we supposed to be on? What is the teacher talking about? Concentrate on the teacher! God! My peter is so petrified, so paralyzed, so stiffly stiff that I can't think, can't pay attention. I am in agony!

Glance at the clock again. I've been sitting here with my hands on top of my desk for an eternity, but the clock says only two minutes have elapsed this time. Nine minutes until the bell!  I can't stand it!

Gotta rearrange my pants. Gotta mash my dick! Gotta make time move faster!

Another attempt to pay attention to the teacher. He's still talking about "Huckleberry Finn." What if I look at the clock again? No! Don't do it! The clock's bewitched! If you look at it, it just goes slower. Don't look, don't look, don't... I looked. One freakin' minute has gone by since the last look. Impossible! Only one minute! Eight to go.

My hand went under the jacket again. My dick is so sensitive, so primed, so ready. Seven minutes to go and I can't quit feeling of myself. Gonna do a three-finger jiggle on my dick. I hate myself  but can't leave it alone. I'm jiggling my fingers against my boner. Not jacking! Not pumping. It won't cum. Will it? Please don't cum! I'm just being nice to my dick, not doing the m-job. Just a friendly jiggle with the fingertips.

My dick is mega-uncomfortable. Slide forward in the desk. scrape the hard dick through an arc until it's in a vertical position behind my zipper. Comfy now? Hell, no. Still intensely erect.

What if I ask to go to the restroom? The teacher would say, "Can't you wait six minutes?" And even if he said yes, I'd have to stand up and walk to the door with my humongous erection making the front of my pants bulge like I had a German sausage behind my fly.

Oh, God! (Jiggle-jiggle). Now it's five minutes (Mash-mash). When the bell rings I'll already have my books in my hands. I'll dodge around the girl in front of me and make a run for the restroom by the stairs. Gotta get there before my climax! Gotta get there before I (Mash-mash) cum in my freakin' pants!

Teacher talking about assigned reading. People gathering up their junk, paying no attention. Everybody set to run for the door. Four minutes. I've gotta be the first one out. Can't let them delay me! Can't let them see that freakin' bulge! It must be as obvious as a piece of radiator hose.

Three minutes. My hand will not leave my erection alone. Rubbing back and forth now. Quit it!  Quit playing with yourself! Three damn minutes! I am so horny, horny, horny (Rub-rub). Oo! That tingles!

Got my legs positioned. The instant the bell rings I am gone! Past the girl and GONE (Squeeze-squeeze). I'll hang a right out the door, books in front of my crotch hiding my horny condition.

Two minutes. Watching the second hand now. How can seconds be so slow? There's something wrong with the clock (Mash-mash).  Everybody's ready to run. Can't let them get in my way

One minute. I am feeling the feelings. I am catching the wave! Boner feeling freaky. Whole body on alert. Just another little squeeze (Mash-mash!) to keep my system primed.

>> RING! <<

I'm out of my desk. At the door. Teacher's voice calling after me, "Mr. Davis! Mr. Davis!" I totally ignore him. Out the door ahead of everybody else. Right turn into the hall.

Kids blowing the doors off every room. Some of them get in my way. Bust on through, man, you've gotta get there before nature takes its own course. Left turn across the tide of hurrying bodies! At the restroom! Through the first door! Second door! I'm here! I'm in the boys room! At a urinal! I've just gotta pry my dick out. Zipper resisting because of the swollen dick behind it. Ah, zipper down! I am so hard! So hard, hard, hard. Get hold of the swollen boner and pop it out into the air.

Uh-oh, my boner feels kind of oily, slippery. Did I cum? No, I would have felt it, and there would be a huge load of sperm in my boxers, not just an oily dick. That's only a little preliminary leakage. Go for it!

Stroking, stroking... Genuinely pumping now. Feelings mounting! Fourteen minutes of erect waiting. At last I am doing the up-and-down dance with the solitary soldier!  Jack... jack... Do it! Do it NOW!

Lean into the urinal but don't interrupt the rhythm. Keep up the pace... Jack... jack... Eee... so good, so good! Almost... Now! Now, now, here it comes...

FIRE ONE! (Wow! So good!)

FIRE TWO! (Another good one!)

FIRE THREE! (Awesome to infinity!)

 Three major loads of ball-tingling ejaculate! Each load makes my entire body shiver! So good! So excellent! So absolutely damn wonderful!

A magnificent eighth-grade cumshot delayed but not denied!


Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Funky Stuff in the old Ford

When I was in seventh grade my grandfather was still driving a 1957 Ford. The car had standard shift mounted on the steering column. Beginning as a little kid, I was captivated by the process of shifting gears. My parents' cars were automatics, so riding in Grandpa's Ford was my only chance to watch the cool procedure.

I enjoyed gear-shifting so much that I often went into the garage and sat in the car to pretend that I was driving it. I never started the motor, but sat in the parked car and practiced coordinating clutch, gearshift and accelerator. I "steered" with one hand and kept the other one on the shift lever, ready for a sudden gear change. Both my feet were busy with the three pedals as well.

One memorable day shortly after turning thirteen, I was enjoying the Ford when something freaky happened. As I shifted gears and synchronized the clutch and gas, my stupid dick picked that time to get stiff. This changed my routine. Due to my stiffie I had to remove my left hand from the steering wheel and use it to squeeze my thingie.

In some crazy way I linked driving to the condition of my dick. My pretend driving became faster and more reckless, if such is possible in a parked car behind closed garage doors.

To make a long story short, at the same time I was pretending to drive I was also playing with my dick and feeling odd sensations throughout my body. I was rubbing and squashing my dick while madly zipping up and down through the gears and stomping madly on the pedals.

After several minutes I quit "driving" and concentrated on the peculiar thing that was happening to me. I couldn't shift any longer because I was now using both hands to deal with my erection.

With absolutely no though for what could happen if somebody discovered me, I unzipped my pants and began wiggling my very stiff peter. Apparently I'd already reached the point of no return, because it took only a few moments of wiggling myself until the whole world exploded. Was I scared? You better believe it. But my fright was overshadowed when I realized that I'd made a big mess. My shot had dirtied my pants. both hands and the seat between my legs. Not only that, the peculiar stuff was dripping from the steering wheel and making gooey tracks down the dashboard.

I had to clean everything up first. Then I meditated on what I'd done, but had no answers. The next day at school I got my best friend off in a corner of the library and asked him possibly the most idiotic question of my life: "Did you ever hear of weird sticky stuff coming out of anybody's peter?"

Both of us were ignorant as hell, but that didn't keep me from finally admitting that I was the guy that it had happened to - and later demonstrating for my friend. We gradually learned what was taking place and had many a dual wank together.

Back to the '57 Ford, it seemed to get me horny. I jacked myself in the car many times, "driving" and wanking into a rag at the same time.