Friday, June 29, 2018

My Young Friend Giovanni

I had a young friend that I met when I was working for a day camp. He was 6 years old when I met him, he had long hair that was kept in a ponytail most of the time. For this tale, I call him Giovanni, his mom jokingly described him as a mutt. He was Mexican because his dad came straight from Mexico and his mother was White and a quarter Black. Giovanni had a Black grandparent.

Giovanni quickly took a liking to me and became my constant shadow at the day camp. He'd walk around holding my hand and sometimes sit in my lap. If he was upset the women that worked with me would come and find me to talk him down however Giovanni was rarely upset. He was usually smiling, typically in a good mood.

He used to ask if I could come to his house and play. I wanted to but I feared how it would look and what his mother would say about a then 22 year old guy wanting to play army guys with a 6 year old. Giovanni came to the camp one week and announced on a Monday that Friday would be his last day at the camp. He was never picked up by his mom but by another relative who'd hurry in and make Giovanni rush to get going. I was feeling very sad that I would not get to see Giovanni day after day. The ladies that I worked with me thought I would be relieved to have this kid that followed me everywhere leaving but I wanted him there.

Giovanni begged me to exchange phone numbers with him but I didn't really know his family and I feared what they would think if he had my phone number or if I called. I could have talked to Giovanni all day but as a young man I knew how it could be perceived.

An entire month goes by after Giovanni leaves the program and I still missed him greatly. One day I was in the grocery store and I heard a voice ring out and feet pattering towards me. "I thought I'd never see you again!" it was Giovanni, he ran to me and hugged me around the waist. It was a tight hug, I hugged him back and when he finally let go I could see that he was beaming from ear to ear with his winsome smile. "Mom, mom this is him!" "Well, I have heard quite a lot about you. He's been begging me to take him to the camp just to visit you."

His mother and I shook hands, I told her that I really enjoyed having her son in the camp and I missed him. "Can he come over for dinner tonight!?" Giovanni interrupted. "Not tonight but if we exchange phone numbers maybe he can come next week. "Maa-uumm!" Giovanni whined. We exchanged phone numbers and his mom gave me their address as well. Giovanni was a little disappointed that I wasn't coming that very night but excited that I would be coming over. I was elated.

Sooner than I thought I got a call from Giovanni's mom, only a day had passed. "Giovanni is really looking forward to this are you free Friday?" "Yeah, let me check and call you right back." I was free but I didn't want to seem as eager as I actually was. I literally put on a timer and called back 30 minutes later to say that I was free and would love to come.

Giovanni lived alone with his mom in a small one bedroom apartment. His mom slept on a fold out bed in the living room. Giovanni had a nice little bedroom. The apartment was very clean. His mom apologized over and over that that she was cooking leftovers and TV dinners. We had Mac and Cheese, some really crispy Bacon and Hungry Man meals. I can't forget that first time, all the details are etched into my memory. "My mom makes the best bacon!" Giovanni was like a tornado running around the small apartment wanting to show me his toys, he even wanted to make me coffee.He pounced up in my lap and quizzed me if it was a good pot of coffee. I assured him it masterful. We ate dinner and then Giovanni invited me to his room to play.

"Well, I don't mind but it has to be okay with your mom"

She was happy to let me play. We went in his room and played together for over an hour. I got on the floor and really got into role playing with the action figures. I was leaving and Giovanni did not want me to leave. "He has to go, he's coming back don't worry." his Mom said.

End Part 1

Anonymous

(Submitted using Guerrillamail.com)

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Troy's Peter Juice

I've mentioned "Troy" several times in posts to this blog. He was a couple of years older than me but we became good friends, particularly in private matters. I was lucky to have a couple other pals that liked to wank, but Troy was tops.

I met Troy when I was in ninth grade. In another post I describe my technique for determining whether a guy might like to get horny together. I would tell the dude that I needed to get some paper towels (or a lost book or whatever) from a janitor's closet at the back of the auditorium balcony. The closet was always unlocked but the custodians never used it during school hours.

Whether we looked for my book or not was immaterial. I would mention kind of apologetically while standing around in the closet that I needed to pee and then say, as if I'd just thought of it, "What if I just do it in the mop sink?" Based on how a guy reacted, I might go ahead and piss in the sink, or not. I made a few "pissin' pals" thanks to the mop sink, and an occasional jacking bud.

Troy started out as a mop-closet friend. He was large but easy-going and quiet, just the most pleasant companion you can imagine despite some academic difficulties.


One day during lunch break I was looking for somebody to go to the janitor's closet with me. To tell the truth, I had begun evaluating every boy I knew, eliminating the tough guys and bullies, and asking myself whether any of the remaining boys might enjoy mop-sink pissing and possibly something more interesting. On this particular day my eyes landed on Troy.

I called to Troy and told him I'd lost a book. He was so sympathetic that I was ashamed of the lie.. Then I proceeded with my "line," saying that the janitor might have found my book and put it in a certain closet with other lost-and-found items. Troy was immediately ready to go with me.

Of course we did not find any lost books in the closet, but the stage was set. I expressed my need to pee. Troy thought the idea of pissing into the big sink was funny. He offered to leave so I would have privacy, but I asked him to stay and hold the door closed. I unzipped my pants and pee'd, making sure Troy had a good line of vision in case he wanted to cop a peek.

By the time I finished pissing Troy was constantly flicking his eyes at my weenie, just like most any guy would. I asked him if he needed to piss, but he turned down the opportunity. As we left the closet I assumed that Troy, although interested in seeing my peter, was not going to be an intimate friend.

I couldn't have been more wrong. A couple of days later we saw each other in the hall during lunch break and he asked if I'd ever found my lost book. I told him no. He suggested that the janitor might have found it by now. Maybe we should go look in the closet again.

We headed for the balcony and entered the closet. Without ever looking for a book, Troy immediately asked if I needed to pee, offering to hold the door again. I was sort of surprised, but lost no time getting my peter out while Troy held tight to the doorknob and stared straight at my dick.

I finished peeing, but it seemed like Troy was not finished watching me. I shook my dick a few times, feeling it beginning to expand. With Troy openly staring I rapidly got hard. After a moment Troy seemed to realize he was gawking. "Through?" he asked, and we hurried to our classes.

This little show was repeated every few days. Troy stared at my dick, which was now hard before I ever took it out. I wiggled it around for him. He would stand with his mouth slightly open, his eyes fixed on my erection. I would give him a good show, wiggling my boner around.

On one of those trips to the balcony I was exhibiting my stiffie when Troy seemed to make a major decision. He stepped up to the mop sink and unzipped his pants. What he pried out of his fly made my eyes pop. He had a big boner that pointed up about 45 degrees above horizontal. Troy's boner was not just longer than mine, but also wider. Without either one of us saying anything, we began to slowly pump ourselves. After just a few strokes Troy was making soft noises.

He climaxed rapidly and without any warning. His large shots splattered again and again into the sink. He whispered the words "Peter juice!" several times as he ejaculated. Meanwhile I delivered my own spurting cum on top of his load.

When we were both empty Troy seemed embarrassed. "I won't tell," he said.

I told him I wouldn't tell either.

Troy avoided me for several days. I suppose he felt guilty about what we had done. But then he came up to me at my locker and sort of hesitantly asked: "Want to go to the closet again?"

We did go to the janitor's closet. Troy immediately told me that if I needed to do anything to my peter it would be okay. He was extremely nervous, sort of hesitant and also squeezing his fly from time to time. The dude was very self-conscious about what he was suggesting, deeply embarrassed yet I could tell he needed to make a shot. He was obviously determined to try for another hook-up with me. I guessed that he didn't have any other jacking friends and was badly horny..

I pulled out my boner and slid my hand back and forth for a few strokes.

Troy's eyes focused on my moving hand, He opened his zipper and popped his thick hard-on out. Within seconds both of us were steadily pumping.

Once again Troy climaxed before I did. This time he warned me that he was cumming, whispering "Gonna make peter juice. Peter juice on the way!". He rose onto tiptoes and aimed his erection into the sink. His ejaculations fired like shots from a water blaster.

"Had to do peter juice," he told me while he caught his breath, not exactly apologizing this time but apparently wanting to explain his actions.

As our relationship grew I learned that until we became jacking partners, he allowed himself to jack off only once a week. Now that we'd discovered each other, he masturbated every time we could get together - but he refrained from jerking when he was alone. If we missed a few days he would be in misery to fire a load.


Several weeks into our partnership Troy reached toward my straining stiffie and asked whether I needed any help. He became the best boy-buddy you can imagine, very concerned about making me feel good and always thanking me for helping him fire his loads, which he continued to call "peter juice."

I was not as disciplined as Troy; I pumped my stiffie whenever the mood hit me. But Troy was so deeply into our friendship that he only shot his peter juice when we were together.

Summer came and we no longer had the mop closet to play in. But that wasn't the end for us. We lived in Albuquerque, the only real city in New Mexico. Along dirt lanes and undeveloped blocks the city is dotted with ruined old mud-brick (adobe) shacks. We found a decrepit adobe shed facing an alley in a forgotten block of prickly-pear and weeds. The doors and windows were empty holes and the roof had partially caved in. But that mud shack was heaven for a couple of horny boys.

Martin Davis

Friday, June 22, 2018

Incredible Pedal Power

This is a story, that's about a very strange way that I shot a load.

Because of being from a big family I was not able to jerk as much as I needed to. For one thing, my aunt lived with us. She was home all the time even if my own family was gone so there was no privacy. I would have to wait days without playing with myself then try to find a place and jerk one out. I was out riding my bike one day and my dick got hard. It was not just a quick on and off boner but a real horny hard-on.

While I was pedaling around the streets I got harder and harder. Then the sexual sensations began. I didn't think I would cum but all of a sudden I could feel my thighs rubbing my dick. Then it was happening.
Oh shit, oh shit!
 Coming!
 Coming in my underpants!!
 I got a freakin' huge climax and the stuff made a bunch of blasts over and over. It was a big load all over my junk.

 I guess I was 14. I tried a few times to make it happen again but it never did.

Anonymous

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

I Scared Him Away

When I was 17, I had a friend who was 15. I was a little slow at sexual encounters and at that time hadn't had any. I knew in my mind that I liked boys but had never openly admitted it to anyone. I had a secret crush on my younger friend but he never ever knew. Me and my friend would get drunk occasionally and be silly.

 One night we were both drunk. I cannot remember how it started but we ended up talking about cocks and sex and it ended up with us both sitting there exposed. I was surprised at how much more developed I was than my friend, he was small for a 15 year old. We played with our dicks a bit. I vaguely remember touching him and him getting a bit freaked. I remember climaxing with him sitting next to me but I don't remember him finishing.

The next day we never spoke a word of what happened but looked at each other coy. It was the beginning of the end. Our friendship was never the same. Soon my friend didn't call or come knocking for me. I scared him away.

Anonymous

Monday, June 18, 2018

"Why did you let me do that?"

I think many guys might have experienced a similar let-down, like the reaction of "Pleasure receiving boy" in the recent story "Would You Rather?" Dare Game.

I know there can be any type of rejection based on how a partner accepts, or fails to accept a given shared activity. I truly welcome you guys to weigh in on the topic. Perhaps my own story of rejection applies as well.

Some of you are familiar that I was with Evan (a younger teen) when I was an upper-classman in HS. Our relationship was unique in the fact we had a deep emotional bond and I guess we began as friends, then oddly crushing on each other, and it eventually developed into a full-on intimate relationship lasting almost 3 years.

Our intimacy was heavily based on me satisfying him. Sure we made-out for a while, gaining our understanding of each other's bodies and building on the teen-age formulated pleasure methods: Petting, then kissing, and wild silliness of spanking, stripping teasing, coy temptation, refusal, uncontrolled laughter.... but eventually I was servicing him, and well, it just worked for us. Often an initial BJ, climax.... then a slow relax session in our undies luxuriating in each other's arms cuddling in a sweet state of bliss. It was in these delicate and precious moments in time that we hugged and comforted in cherished appreciation for each other, fully immersed in the wanton joys we shared together. He indeed thanked me, and plainly told me how much he loved me, in turn I devoted the same tenderness to him.



Eventually hormones would regenerate and we went at it again. Many times I would just blow him again, but occasionally I suppose a chance for new excitement, resulted.....the cuddle led to a boner and body heat led to the desire for full bodily contact. Eventually his penis would be aiming towards my bum cheeks.

With the dribbling resource of our combined pre-cum, I was quickly lubed and he would begin to enter me. I turned face down, then he would take over driving. He was gentle and went slow, but it only took a minute or two of his hips pulsing, then he launched a mighty climax pumping his cum inside me. I remember his heavy breathing as he pressed downward his full might, coupled with intense orgasmic release. Instead of the normal cooing and love. He retorted, "Why did you let me do that?"

Afterwards there was no tenderness, and certainly no arms clasped in hugs. He sulked and turned despondent. He was upset, and I couldn't explain why.

Certainly we were in a relationship. Indeed it was entirely private from our friends and families, but we accepted who we were, and that we were two guys in love. We had been together 6-8 months by this time, so what was it about that type of his pleasure that repulsed him?

I deduced that it represented GAY SEX to him. However impossible it might be to deny what we had been doing for the past months was any different. But it seemed this particular element of our sexual expression was completely taboo. I was only allowing him to receive pleasure, and indeed since he cummed so quickly, I knew he well enjoyed it.

Eric

Carefree Kid


I was enrolled in swimming lessons at a neighborhood pool when still a pre-schooler, maybe Four or Five years old. On the first day the teacher held a meeting with the parents as well as kids. One part of his talk stuck with me. He told the parents to make sure we all showered real good as soon as we got out of the pool, because the chemicals were a little stronger in that pool than in the typical backyard pool. Somebody asked why. The answer: Because when this many kids pee in the pool it screws up the balance. I thought that was funny. I also took it as permission to pee underwater, which I did whenever I needed to. I would also see other boys standing still in the water and know what they were up to.
Anonymous

Thursday, June 14, 2018

"Would You Rather?" Dare Game

We were both 13 years old, playing a game of hypothetical scenarios often called "would you rather?". The game is popular enough that it is marketed as a card game that you can buy. The game however has existed in some form long before a toy company decided to wrap it up in a nice package and sell it. The game is about giving two equal scenarios to choose from. The choices are typically undesirable ones like "What would you rather do burn to death or get ran over by a truck?" Sometimes the scenarios are gross "would you rather drink a glass of spit or eat a piece of poop?"

An important rule is that you can't say "neither" a choice has to be made. My friend and I were playing together and were coming up with some great, twisted scenarios when he asked whether I'd rather lick the homeless guy's butt cheek referring to an a very elderly and smelly transient we had seen earlier that day or suck his dick for 10 seconds. I immediately answered that I'd rather suck my friend's dick for 10 seconds. I even added that I'd rather suck his dick for 10 minutes than to even just smell the homeless guy's butt. The next few would you rather scenarios all included a dick. My dick, his dick would you rather suck it or touch it than do something else.

"Would you rather play this game for 15 hours or let me suck your dick for 10 minutes?"



That was the first time that I phrased it that way "would you rather LET ME suck" it was asking without asking. "Both". I had no idea how to proceed next because I didn't know if we were still talking hypothetically. We both became quiet until he finally said "I dare you" and I asked "what?" and he said "instead of would you rather let's do dares". I knew what was coming and his first and only dare was "10 minutes".




It was the first time he exposed himself to me, laying on the bed he lifted his shirt and lowered the waistband on his shorts to reveal his very stiff circumcised cock. It was about 5 and a half inches or so not incredibly thick but I wouldn't say thin either. It was mostly straight and curved up ever so slightly with a very prominent circumcision scar. I dove in and because I had seen my share of porn by that tender age I gave him what I felt was an expert blowjob. My teeth did not touch him once and my tongue whipped around and around, swirling around his shaft and the head of his penis. I varied the speed, sometimes going fast and then slowing down, I sucked extra hard and I took the pressure off when I felt that I needed to. I also used my hand as my mouth came up so did my fingers, gliding up and down in my own saliva. When he moaned I sucked faster and then I'd slow down, I was really trying to learn what he liked and any expressions that he made I knew that I was on the right track.

When I knew I was getting close I started in for the grand finale, moving my head up and down as fast I could, sucking as hard as I could and whirling my tongue around all simultaneously until he grunted and his back arched. I could taste the cum being deposited into my mouth with every spasm. I underestimated how long it would happen, when I took my mouth off he still had a few more pumps that flowed out of the top. I swiped it up with my finger and tasted it. His breathing calmed down and he turned his face towards me and without any discernible emotion, he dead panned and said "get out".

I was shocked and I asked if I had heard him right. He said "yeah, get out. I'm not sure that we should have done this. I feel bad about it just go home." he was pulling up his pants as he said this. I was still there and he repeated "please just go home". I apologized to him and he said it was cool but dammit that was the last time I ever got to come to his house.

Anonymous Story submitted using  Guerrillamail.com

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Re-Launching the BS Blog

A couple of friends of this blog have recently submitted stories that actually prompted me to re-launch the BS Blog. I had let it go on hiatus due to the low involvement there. It seems the problem might have stemmed from lack of up-keep. Therefore I gave it a fresh summer look, and you can visit to read the first of what I hope is a new beginning for Boy-Sighting (BS) Stories to share. It has a new Header Pic, and slightly modified name. However the format is the same. If you have a short story to tell about a young fellow who you felt was remarkable for any reason, then please share with us some details of the BS. ~ Eric ~


Sunday, June 10, 2018

Top Honors for Class Clown



In the same vein as Regi's post, then Scott’s mention of the hilarious CONGRADULATIONS: 

 The pastor of my church was announcing the names of graduates on a Sunday morning service. They all seemed to have major honors. So he read, 
  “Tommy Smith, Valedictorian, Summa cum laude. Jennifer Riggs, Salutatorian, Magna cum laude. Rafael   Torres, Perfect attendance for twelve years, President of the National Honor Society.”

 Then the pastor paused for a second, looking at the name of a boy who was fully competent as the class clown and had barely squeaked by annually. And now to the great relief of his parents and everyone who knew the family, the pastor sought some manner of praise to the young fellow’s  mere accolade of graduation. There were no honors attached to his name. After a small pause, the pastor cleared his throat and announced,
 “Daniel Whitson... Praise the Lord!”

 The congregation broke into laughter, followed by applause.

Anonymous

Image displayed is only  representing a "Class Clown", Bwah ha ha
Eric

Friday, June 1, 2018

Missing My Special Camping Pal

I want to comment about Eric's mention of guys who "found someone special" while at camp.

 That really did happen for me. I was horny as a stallion the summer I was 14. I was constantly feeling like the inside of my balls was itching. Then I would sprout a boner. If I didn't stop everything and wank, the boner made my life miserable.

 At camp the very first night I saw another boy jacking off in bed. I was too scared to jack right there in my bunk, but I came inside my underwear anyway just by kind of rubbing my boner while I watched the other guy's sleeping bag bumping around.


  I followed that boy around the next day. After while he went into a restroom and I followed. I had never cruised another boy before, but I got my boner out and started slowly pumping right next to him. Within minutes we were best buds, feeling each other and helping with the strokes. We jacked off together twice a day after that.

When camp was over and we went back home in our different towns I didn't know how to handle the separation. I had the most horrible empty feeling for weeks. He was my first jacking bud. When I got home I thought about him all the time. I pretended he was with me whenever I pumped out my bedtime loads My imagination exceeded any actual events of our brief past. It was pretty hot, but also kind of sad that he wasn't there.

Anonymous