Studying the Best Adjustments

Regi, I have a similar story to yours called Pencil Tracings,  but this kid was probably about 14. He was sitting at the computer rubbing his crotch, not watching porn if you are curious. I know this because I've spied his computer screen many times, it's usually a game or some innocuous Youtube video but still he likes playing with that bulge of his.


I think he thought he had privacy because all this was happening under the table but if you happen to want books on the bottom shelf and are positioned right...let's just say he had no privacy. I wish he would have just went for it and got into a proper stroke but he just kept mashing and adjusting, mashing and adjusting, mashing and adjusting and eventually left altogether.


 I thought I got lucky that one time but almost every time that kid is in the library and on the computer his hands are constantly under that desk mashing and adjusting. It's hard to say if this is true masturbation or just the natural reflexes of a kid who needs something to do with his hands when he's not typing.


Anonymous

Pencil Tracings

It's a shame, but I seldom go to the public library anymore. Everything that I need for research, news or entertainment is usualy available on the internet. However, yesterday I gathered up some books I wanted to donate and went to the neighborhood branch. Turns out, I'm glad that I did.

After handing over the box of books, I browsed around in the fiction stacks to see if anything appealed to me. The only other people in the building (besides employees) were a mother with a pre-school daughter and a son of maybe 11. The son, wearing khaki's and a dark green polo shirt, was sort of curled up in a large upholstered chair, one leg under his butt, intently reading a book. His mother and sister were busy in the children's department. He himself had that "juvenile-conservative" look due mostly to his side-parted school haircut.

I first noticed him while just walking through the reading room. He had two things going on: Reading his book AND giving his lap some private stimulation. I walked behind a set of shelves so I could look between the books and appreciate the boy without seeming to stare.

He held a pencil in his right hand. As he read, he dragged the pencil along his lap. The eraser of the pencil began its journey somewhat low, near the bottom of his fly. It gradually made its way upwards in a sort of diagonal direction. Then he lifted the pencil from his pants and again placed it on the lower part of his fly. From there it slowly dragged its way along the khaki pants, retracing the previous route.

Ths occurred again and again. The boy was so engrossed in his book that he was unaware of me or anybody else. Meanwhile he continuously dragged the pencil along the length of his hidden manhood.

I watched him from different locations for around fifteen minutes. During that time he never mashed his lap, never rearranged his fly, never went to the restroom. But he continued to slowly drag the pencil along its diagonal line.

The young guy was clearly pre-pubertal. I suspect he had a happy little boner hidden in his pants, but he was not yet old enough to be aware of the procedure for dealing with it. In all innocence and without a single horny thought in his head, he was enjoying tiny stimulating feelings as his eraser tingled his innocent young stiffie and perhaps made it harder and harder. 

I think I'll visit the library more often.

Regi Sharp

Razor Boy Comes to Visit

I see cute boys literally everywhere I go, but in most cases I know that I won't get to interact with them. If I'm lucky I can say "Hi" and get a greeting back even if it's just a smile or a wave.

Not too long ago I saw a gorgeous boy waiting to cross the street with his scooter. I was in my rental car, the cross signal came on and he scooted past my car on what they call a razor scooter. I see a lot of kids riding these types of scooters. Well, of course I don't expect to ever see him again especially since I am out of town visiting relatives.

 Imagine my surprise when the boy on the scooter shows up at my relative's house it turns out he is a good friend of one of my nephews. Imagine how happy I was to take my nephew and scooter boy out to eat and to the movies afterwards. It made my entire week and it made that family visit particularly memorable. The kid on the scooter went from being a stranger that I never expected to see again to someone that was calling me by my first name and telling me that he wishes I could be his uncle.


Anonymous

Whose Missing their Undies?

I feel sorry for this lonely blog. It used to have a new story every few days and now everybody has forgotten it. In hopes of stirring things up, I offer a very minor event that happened at the end of a week-long summer camp.


The counselor in a sixth and seventh grade cabin was looking around to make sure the boys gathered up all their junk. In telling this tale, he noted that the boys had been busy little jackers all week, firing their dragons in unexpected times and places whenever the need hit.


Now he held up a pair of whitie tighties and yelled, "Who's missing some underwear? Count your underpants!" Nobody claimed the briefs, so he took a closer look. "Fruit-of-the Loom! Size medium! Slightly yellow in front!" There was still no answer.


 He turned them inside out, looked at them carefully, and said "OOH! Wet load! Wet load! Who shot one within the last 8 or 12 hours?" All the boys averted their eyes, staring at the floor. "Well," continued the counselor, "If anybody wants to claim this load as a souvenir, your undies will be hanging on the foot of my bunk." Somehow in the confusion of departure, the icky FOTL's
disappeared without anybody ever publicly claiming them. The counselor said he would have got a kick out of knowing which of his young dudes grabbed them, but he never found out.


Anonymous