A Boy Advertizing

It is risky to judge a person based on their physical appearance. But I saw a guy yesterday at lunch that seemed to emit an unspoken orientation. The dude was about 15 (possibly a self-confident 14). The first thing I noticed was his thick black hair . He had combed it carefully straight down on both sides, hiding his ears.
 But more than that, his body language. The way he unfolded his napkin, the way he handled his silverware, the way he looked around and let his glance fall on other young males in the restaurant. Then his family's meal ended. The boy walked from his table to the cashier's stand with a pronounced oscillation of skinny butt cheeks inside tight pants. Every indicator led to one conclusion: Here is a boy who may not know yet what role nature had assigned him. But he is definitely preoccupied with one constant fantasy: Any boy here want to be my next masturbation partner? It was almost like he was taking applications.


Anonymous

What's Young Jacker Gonna Do?

Something that struck me earlier today. Suppose you were an adolescent boy, a typical boy of anywhere from 12 to 16. You are in the habit of running a manual performance check on your ejaculatory system every day or so. How would the COVID-19 lockdown affect you? Every relatively private location in the US is shut down. Add to that, your parents are home all day. I'm grateful this crisis did not occur when I was a teen.

Using Tickles for Fun

A lot of us broke the barriers by tickling. I did it a few times (guys that stayed the night).

 Also with a younger boy. He had footlockers stacked in his garage. He got me to lay down on the footlockers. Then using a paint brush (no paint) he tickled me till my dick got so hard it hurt. I had that boner all the rest of the day. We did not know about jacking yet. I bet if we did I would of shot a prize of a load. I had all the feelings but not the climax.

Anonymous

Massaging My Babysitter

My parents continued to get a babysitter for my sister and me when I was already 12 and 13. My sister was only 7 so they justified it due to her being so young. The truth was that I was sort of irresponsible. Our sitter for several years was Freddie, a boy we knew from church, two or three years older than me. Freddie and I had seen each other's privates from time to time when we changed clothes, so we were sort of relaxed in that department.

I discovered sperm production during seventh grade and eased into a jacking schedule of three times a week. There was one peculiar thing: now that I was shooting loads of cum I occasionally had dreams involving Freddie and his nude crotch. These dreams had a sexual component and frequently ended with me waking up with an intense erection in my pajamas.


On this particular occasion my sister was already sleep. Freddie and I had been wrestling but were winding down. The wrestling had given me a boner and if I wasn't mistaken, Freddie had one also. Completely out of nowhere I heard myself say "Let me give you a massage." This was not planned, it just popped out.

Freddie was agreeable. He lay on my bed in nothing but his boxers and I rubbed him from head to toe, except for that unmistakable lump in his underwear. I had never had any sort of physical relationship with him or anybody else, but now I knew without a doubt that I was going to give Freddie a treat.

I rubbed closer and closer to his groin. He made a sort of "Hmmm" sound. Did that mean "go ahead" or "get your damn hands off of me?" I had no idea. Soon it was too late to stop. I was tickling the bulge where his dick made a ridge in hs boxers. "Hmmm" he said again.

Now I went for broke, surrounding his bulge with my entire hand and slowly sliding back and forth. He stretched out a little straighter in the bed.

Now he voiced a question: "Do you know what you're doing?" I told him yes and kept the rhythm going. Back and forth, back and forth. My hand was separated from his dick by a single layer of cloth. I told him I was going to get his thing out so I could massage it better. He asked if I was sure I wanted to. Again I said yes.

It took a little fishing to get his erection out through the slot. Then I was stroking him hands-on. I was so aroused that I could feel cum seeping out of my own dick.

Freddie was making noises by then, the peculiar high-pitched sounds of an adolescent male heading for a climax. I didn't rush, didn't hurry him, just kept my hand moving at a steady speed. I was 13, I'd never done this to anybody else. Freddie was totally into it and I was trying to keep my hand steady. I was thinking all those thoughts when Freddie whispered "Coming!"

A second or two later he produced the only ejaculation I'd ever seen besides my own. His first load of jism landed high on his chest and then his body pulsed again, releasing a second load. And then a third.
He raised up in the bed, reached inside my underpants and pumped my stiffie. I was so horny that I began to feel the climax while he was still reaching for my dick. Then I exploded beyond any of the orgasms I'd had alone.

We were wiping off our dicks when Freddie gave me an amused look and said "Hell of a massage!"

The experience put a whole new meaning on "Babysitter." Any time my parents called Freddie I knew what the high point of the evening would be.

Anonymous

Tales of Boy's Choir (A Proctors Choice)

Boys Choir part 2

Each of our dorm rooms had bunk beds for eight or ten boys plus a single bed for the room proctor. Proctors were ex-choir boys, high school guys as described in part 1 whose voices had become too low for the choir, typically juniors or seniors but some precocious 9th and 10th graders as well. Each proctor made his own rules for the boys in his room. I had one proctor in the 7th grade who openly discussed masturbation and encouraged boys to "release their stress" at bedtime. Everybody jacked at the same time right after lights-out, keeping it hidden under the covers per the proctor's instructions. That proctor kept boxes of tissues in the cubbies and would ask if everybody was ready. Then he said "You know what to do" and we all got busy waxing our woodies. As soon as it was over a designated boy would walk around with a wastebasket and collect all the tissues. I think that proctor felt like everybody was going to do it anyway, and if we did it all at the same time we would not be horsing around with each other at other times. The proctor himself also jacked, but he never made a move on a boy.


 That particular proctor was the exception in keeping his hands off the boys. A lot of other proctors made (or attempted) outright contact with boys in their room. They used the typical pickup lines to attract action, such as inviting a boy to help warm up the proctor's bed or to rub a strained muscle. Some proctors liked to jerk the boys, others wanted the boys to jerk them. Everybody in the room knew what was going on and most of us jacked along while the proctor and his chosen boy bumped around in bed.

 Dick-play was not limited to dorms nor night-times. I told you in part 1 about Crocker who was my voice coach for a while. Most of the time during voice lessons there was just me and Crocker and maybe the piano player (Tony, a mid-teen, older than me but younger than Crocker), all three of us in a small practice room. Once we got used to each other Crocker developed a technique of wrapping his hand around my boner and giving me a series of squeezes or rubs while I sang. Always in time to the music. Crocker let Tony see what he was doing, kind of like he was displaying a trophy; apparently they knew each other on a very private level. Tony would try to play while manipulating the front of his pants. One day piano boy just quit playing and began rubbing his crotch real fast while he stared at us. Within a minute or so he was making little "almost there" noises, rubbing faster and apparently reaching ejaculation with a breathy whisper of "Holy Mary!" When that was over he wrapped both hands around his fly and just sat there holding onto his own dick. Crocker's eyes were popping out. He accused the guy very dramatically, "You shot one, didn't you! And right in your pants!" The guy admitted it. "Nasty, nasty!" Crocker told him. "What will this nice choir boy think of us?"

Anonymous Choir Boy

Tales of Boys Choir (First Movement)

  Many, many years ago, fourth grade through eighth grade, I sang in a highly professional boys choir associated with the symphony orchestra in a major city. I have many memories of my choir days.

 A little background: There were about a hundred boys in various stages of training and performance. We lived in a dorm and went to private school together. A board of mature (straight) musicians ran the organization with help from a staff of hand-picked teenage guys whose voices had become too deep to sing in a treble choir. Those older boys were in general a horny bunch who were surrounded by a sea of "artsy" pubertal boys. My awareness of the sexual undertones began when I was about twelve.

  One of my first erotic memories is of a choral rehearsal conducted by one of the big boys. We were working on a piece called "Open the Gates of the Temple." The conductor told us we sounded really wimpy on the opening note of the song. He wanted a strong emphasis on that note, the letter "O" at the beginning of the word "Open." He called a boy to come stand facing him and demonstrated how weak the boy's attack was. Giving him some musical mumbo-jumbo, he then instructed the kid to try it again. This time when the downbeat came for "O," just as the boy got his mouth open for the syllable, the teen conductor darted his hand out and grabbed the boy's crotch and apparently gave his junk a definite twist. The kid belted out "O" like never before. The student conductor then announced that he was available for any boy who wanted to experience his method of vocal attack. I was new and declined. One of the boys who accepted said the conductor gave his entire package several very nice exploratory squeezes and encouraged the boy to have a feel of the director's prick as well.

 We all had individual voice lessons as well as choir sessions. A guy named Crocker was my voice coach and he was assisted by another guy who played piano for the lessons. Crocker had a habit of resting his right hand on my belly while I sang. He claimed that he did it so he could judge the tension of my diaphragm. His hand remained where it was supposed to during our first couple of lessons. But once we had gotten used to each other his hand gradually moved downward until he could wrap his fingers around my bulge (my dick was hard by then), giving my stiffie a gentle squeeze. "Contact," he told the piano player, who flashed his eyes toward my crotch.

 Each voice lesson contained a little more groping and soon he "assisted" me with every song by giving my stiffie back-and-forth strokes corresponding to the beat of the music. The pianist watched us, often missing notes and making mistakes because he was trying to rearrange his dick and play the piano at the same time.

More to come.

Anonymous Choir Boy

"Make sure you go wee wee!"

My very first Boy Scout overnight camping trip, me and two of my also 11 year old friends were sharing a tent.

 Well after lights out and everything is quiet, Kevin's dad stuck his head into our tent, woke up his son, and quietly asked him,

  "Did you go wee wee?"

  It woke all of us up, but we didn't say anything and pretended we were still asleep. Kevin angrily told his dad that, yes he did, and to get out of our tent!

 The next night, and for several camping trips to follow, me and my friend always teased Kevin,
"Make sure you go wee wee!" and after, once in the tent, "You did you go wee wee, didn't you?"

Poor Kevin, not only was he embarrassed, but other Scouts heard about it, and Kevin got the nickname "Wee Wee" from that point forward.

Anonymous

A Reader's Nice Comments on OOTS

To the esteemed moderator: This is for you. If you choose to publish it, you have my encouragement. If you wish to keep it to yourself, by all means do so.

I want to say a personal "Thank You" for the blog. This lockdown has given me plenty of free time. A lot of that time has gone toward relaxing with the OOTS archives. I'm grateful for the escapades, grateful for the comments, grateful for the characters who appear in the stories.

 
Beyond that, I'm thankful to you personally Mr. Moderator because your blog has brought together a crowd of people who wouldn't otherwise have interacted. I've discovered stories that closely mirror my own experiences. I've read comments that entertained or educated me. I've grinned and looked the other way when you've dressed up your fiction in the Sunday suit of fact and given us a look at your dreams.

I rode along with the guy who pitched papers in his underwear. I felt "at home" in that classy old locker room with half the shower heads blocked off. I laid in a bunk bed and watched a roomful of campers doing their thing. I watched you deal with soap, deodorant and shampoo. I attended your sleepovers. I secretly watched you rubbing your stiffie on the chalk tray beneath the blackboard.

More than anything else, I've enjoyed remembering things that were so important to generations of kids dealing with hormones, erections and friendships.

So, all you writers and commentators, keep it up! Keep writing. Keep commenting. Keep reminding me of besties, of seventh-grade showers, of self-discovery, of summer camps, of funny little escapades that no other group would appreciate like we do.

Thank you.
Uber Anon

"You want it tickled?"

Changing the subject, may I tell how my friend and I discovered sexual companionship? I had a bestie named Jeff when I was in middle school. We were incredible friends who did everything together with one important exception: we were not yet sexually aware.

One thing we really loved was to have sleepovers with each other.

So one night we were in bed together. As usual we had nothing on but briefs. Jeff asked me just as innocent as anything, if I wanted him to tickle me. We had done quite a bit of tickling in the past, gently touching every area of skin except an unspoken limit - no tickling what was hidden in our underwear.


On this night we took turns as usual and raised goosebumps all over our tender bodies. After a while we seemed finished - we had tickled everything that wasn't off limits. But in some unexplainable way I think both of us realized for the first time that maybe there was more.

I was wondering what might happen if... if... and then I realized that I couldn't complete the thought because doing what I was thinking about might ruin our friendship. Mustn't let Jeff know, I swore.

At that very moment a miracle occurred. Jeff whispered to me "How's your weenie?"

This was something we had never talked about. I gave him a generic answer: "Fine."

We lay together in silence. My heart was pounding and I imagine his was also. I decided to ask another question: "You want it tickled?"

That sleepover changed our lives. I tickled Jeff's crotch. He tickled mine. We zeroed in on our balls and then our dicks. For the longest time we gave each other the feelies, becoming more and more horny without knowing what was happening.

It would another year before we ejaculated, but our little stiffies loved all the pre-pubertal attention that we learned to give each other. Tickling our weenies and balls became a major focus of our young lives.

Anonymous

Waiting for God to Act

A friend was explaining sex to me. We were in grade 6 so I must have been 11 or 12. However, I was a socially delayed kid and not ready (I guess) to accept what he was saying. Anyway I told my friend that God decided when it was time for a husband and wife to have a baby. When they had lived together long enough he would make it happen. I also told him that what he was suggesting sounded nasty.

As time went on I picked up hints that he had been correct, but I wasn't immediately ready to let go of the God concept. I decided that intercourse was an artificial way to make a woman get pregnant if she and her husband were not willing to wait for God to act.

 It was not until I was 14 and had been masturbating for a year that I figured everything out.

Anonymous

Pete and the Mysteries of Puberty

From toddler-hood through High School I was best friends with a boy named Pete. Pete was six months older than me, but from as far back as we could remember I was always very much taller than he. We were an inseparable pair, and because of the difference in our heights, and the contrast in our coloring – I had pale skin, blue eyes, and white-blond hair, while Pete had black hair, brown eyes, and skin that verged on olive – we were often tagged by the grown-ups around us with that word despised by all red-blooded boys: “cute”.


 Like most young kids Pete and I were pretty shy about our bodies, although because we so often changed, bathed and slept together from such an early age, there was never any question of modesty between us. We sometimes did “naughty” things together, like sneaking a skinny-dip in the neighbors’ pool, but aside from some comparing when we were very young – Pete was circumcised, and I am not – and one or two solemn, scientific discussions of the possible reasons for and mechanics of our occasional morning erections, we never as kids did anything that could be even remotely described as sexual. And why would we? We had no idea people could do such things, and had we known, we would have been at a complete loss to understand why anyone would want to.

I was on the late side of average in reaching puberty. My first hairs didn’t sprout until I was almost thirteen, and I didn’t ejaculate until about six months after my birthday. But Pete was really late. At the start of ninth grade, when he was already fourteen, except for him being a bit taller his body looked different than it had when he was ten.


Two years before that, during the first part of seventh grade, another boy told me about masturbation. I tried it that very night, with spectacularly gratifying results. Naturally I told my best friend about it on the very next day. But on the following day Pete reported back to me that, although he’d followed my instructions exactly, he hadn’t experienced any of the wonderful sensations I’d described.

There followed a period of three or four weeks during which we strove manfully (boyfully?) to get Pete off. I critiqued his technique and demonstrated my own; he tried different grips and rhythms, and rubbing his little dink on the bedclothes, a pillow, me; I even gave him some “hands-on” assistance. But the same thing always happened: Pete’s little peter would at first stiffen and stand up, but then, no matter how, or how vigorously, or how gently it was stimulated, it would slowly shrink back to its usual worm-like state.

After about a month of this Pete quite understandably refused to try any more. I learned not even to mention jacking off to him, because it only made him mad. If a bunch of us boys were standing around trading jokes and stories, and the topic of masturbation came up, Pete would go silent; and if the subject didn’t change quickly, he’d quietly walk away. As for myself, at about this time I became friends with a new kid in our neighborhood who became my regular jacking buddy. But I never ceased to think of Pete as my best and closest friend.

Over the course of ninth grade Pete finally went through puberty. At the very end of the school year, days before his fifteenth birthday, he proudly informed me that he’d finally managed to give himself an orgasm – and that he’d ejaculated, too!

Now he was keen for us to do stuff together. I should have been receptive; my other friend, an Army brat, was about to move away; but I was coming up on fifteen too, and I had conceived the idea that such boy-boy activity was childish stuff, unworthy of men or older boys. Pete and I did fool around about a dozen times that summer, but once we started high school in the fall I flatly refused to do it any more.

Anonymous

"How can you pee-pee in that thing!"

 When I was just a little dude, my grandfather took me along to a high school football game. One of my older cousins was on the local team.

 When the game was over Grandpa went to get the car and I ran to the locker room to find my cousin. I remember clearly being astonished at all the bare bodies. Then I found my cousin. He was standing at a locker wearing nothing but his jock strap.

According to him I pointed and yelled, "How can you pee-pee in that thing!" He claims that he was teased with "How can you pee-pee in that thing!" for months.

Anonymous

The Glory of Middle School Showers

The writer this story said PE was his laboratory. I never thought of it in that way, but it's really a perfect description for me too.

  I think PE in junior high was the dividing line between little me and big me. I was stunned the first time I saw all the boys naked. Somebody should have told me, but they didn't and I was taken by surprise to see a shower room full of bare penises.

For us,  PE was offered in seventh and eighth grades only. You can see quite a span of maturity in that range of boys, from the smallest little unchanged twelve-year-olds to the near-adult bodies of certain faster maturing fourteen-year-olds.

 At thirteen another boy spent the night with me. We were playing a tickle game which got out of hand and my system came on line for the first time under an experimental guise.

 After that happened I really enjoyed PE because, like others have said, I started putting the guys in mental pigeon holes according to my own subjective guess as to whether they DID or DID NOT do a certain big boy thing to their stiffies.

In junior high the boys were at their handsomest, dicks were at their stiffest, and the assistance of a horny friend was at its peak. I miss those carefree times.

Anonymous

Just Guys Trading Feel-Jobs

 I have posted this before but can't find it. In about the eighth grade another dude and I were checking each other's weenies in a school restroom. He happened to be black. He wanted to know if it bothered me for a black guy to touch my junk. I didn't know what to say.


 It was a stupid question. We were trading feel jobs, and making each other get horny. Skin color had nothing to do with it.


 We went on to be regular jack buddies.


Anonymous

When Nature Calls

Inside dining is closed in our area, so last night I was waiting in the drive-through line at a fast-food operation. Right ahead of me was a small Honda. The line was at a standstill. All of a sudden the back door on the driver's side opened. A very young little dude hopped onto the pavement between the car and the building. He bent over to pull his pants and underwear down around his ankles. When he stood up again, his little nozzle was visible for a second or two. Then he aimed it with a couple of fingers and got down to business. The little guy produced a jet of pee aimed right onto the driveway. Poor boy must have had an urgent need -- he just kept peeing and peeing!. Then he shook his little dickie and for good measure stomped several times in the puddle he had created.

Funny thing -- he never looked at my truck, never looked at me sitting right there in the five-dollar seats, never took his eyes off his business. Totally immersed in his own urgency. He had exactly one goal and he performed it with complete success. Ah, boyhood!


Thunder Cloud

My One BIG Mistake

Okay, thanks to ANON 4:07 on this story,

He replied to these words -
Not me. It was awful. I didn't realize that my sexual interest in other boys would get me a negative reputation that I would have to live with for years. After it happened I went through the rest of middle school wishing that the school would blow up and take all the teachers and kids with it. I went on to high school still identified as a practicing fag due to some friendly jacking in seventh grade.

 Now the story -  I will tell you guys the thing that started it all.
 
 In the eighth grade I jacked occasionally with a boy who mentioned several times that he wanted a blow job. I didn't even know what that meant. I thought it was probably a variant of jacking. He had to explain what a blow job was. I couldn't believe what he was describing, thought it was very nasty-sounding. We were at the gym and went into one of the foyer restrooms. I forced myself to do what he wanted because I had very few jack partners and wanted to hang onto him. He was a year or two younger than me but very pushy and sort of threatening.

 He had a little-boy small dick that got hard without getting much bigger. I hated what I was about to do. Went down on him and within a few cycles he came in my mouth. I felt dirty, obscene, filthy. Spat his cum on the floor and left the restroom at a fast walk while he was still wiping his dick off. As I walked to the middle school building I kept spitting every few steps, trying to rid myself of his taste and the overall awfulness of what I had done. I went straight to a water fountain and washed my mouth out again and again.

 I thought that was the end of it and vowed by everything sacred that I would never, never, never do that again.

  What I didn't know was that the little turd was working hard to become a trouble-maker. He hung out with some ninth-grade bullies of the gang type. Guys who were just plain mean and proud of it. Two of them cornered me one day not long after the humiliating thing I had done for the little jerk. They said -X- had told them that I was a cock-sucker and they wanted samples. They took turns holding me down and forcing my jaws open. One of them ejaculated on my face, but not in my mouth. The other one never became erect. It was over in about five minutes, but they made a big deal of telling all their other bully-buddies that I was a dick-sucker.

 I could go on and write about high school, but what's the use. I never sucked another dick but I wore the reputation of "cock-sucker" and "queer" all the rest of my school years.

Anonymous

My Powerful Guilt

A recent story reminds me of my own early days of jerking,  but with a few differences. You mentioned "guilt." I had conflicting emotions about masturbation. I knew that it was not dangerous and probably not sinful nor immoral which my church leaders wanted all of us boys to believe. No, my guilt was the shame of doing anything in secret.

Until I discovered masturbation I had nothing worth keeping secret from my parents. In our family we all (me, 2 sisters and our parents) talked about stuff out in the open. For instance one of my sisters had a friend who got pregnant and we hashed that over for weeks, including the fact that a female had to be impregnated by the action of a male. But every time I jacked off I had an uncomfortable feeling that I was a bad boy just by keeping it a secret.

As far as having masturbation partners, that was also part of the secret. If I ever decided to tell on myself, should I mention other guys or only my own habit? I asked myself if I should say to my father, "By the way, I jacked off  with Leroy on the way home this afternoon. We hid in all those bushes at the end of Mrs. McDonald's driveway. He came first and then tickled my balls while I came.

It was preposterous! I knew I could never tell them anything like that, so I felt guilt on account of keeping something to myself, but no guilt over pumping my dick whenever I needed to.

Anonymous

A Really Memorable Shot

Did you ever have something so dramatic happen that you remember even a lot of the details?

I had a cum experience with a boy on a nature hike at an overnight camp. He was a little older than me. We were walking and climbing together. The other boy said he needed to piss. He suggested that we slip into the woods where we could not be seen from the trail. When we were well hidden he said that what he really needed to do was get his dick out into the air because it was bothering him. He slid down his shorts and jock down to his ankles, and there it was, his very stiff looking dick poking right out.

Without asking me if he could do it he started jacking off. He said, that was what he needed. I was maybe a little shy. For some reason I didn't want him to see my dick, but I was hard due to him jacking off. So I rubbed my bulge without getting my dick out in the open. He picked up on that in a hurry and said he would like to help me. He rubbed me some and then said he could do it better if I pulled down my shorts. So I did and he was then rubbing my jock with my stiffie inside the jock. He kept rubbing and I knew I was going to shoot. It felt so crazy good for him to rub back and forth on my jock. He kept doing it and in a minute I shot inside my jock and made a bunch of real good squirts. What I remember is his hand going back and forth and making my dick feel hugely sexy in the jock. Then it squirted. I got my shot with my cum penetrating the jock and making a big wet spot where my dickhead was.

We did it the next day too, and he let me jack him that time. Today when I put on a jock I think of that guy rubbing my boner in the woods until I got a climax inside my jock. It felt so good that I sometimes jacked off on purpose inside a jock.

Anonymous Camper

The Secret Deal and the Boy Next Door

I was 13 years old, straight A's in school, high test scores, never missed an assignment. The boy that lived next door wasn't quite so academically inclined. He was good at skateboarding though, all day he'd practice on that skateboard flipping it, jumping with it but spent hardly any time doing homework. We went to the same school, my parents and his parents decided I could to tutor him but it was hard. He had the attention span of a 2 year old. However, he did start to care about at least passing his classes so he'd go for grades like high D's and low C's and he had to struggle for that.

He may not have been very good at school but he was popular there, he was social and I'd add that he was cute. I had a crush on him. Yeah, I was a gifted 13 year old and an "in the closet" gay. His cuteness is the reason, I could put up with tutoring him despite his poor memory and only being able to hold his attention for about 45 seconds at a time. One day he came to me begging that I write him a paper because if he didn't turn in this assignment his grade would drop from C- to failing. He was set to have his first ever report card of middle school with no F's but only if he was able to pull off a passing grade in History.

The assignment was due the next morning and while I was good, I wasn't that good to write a paper overnight. However, I had wrote a paper for the same teacher that had yet to be turned in. I had an A+ in that class and all of the extra credit. The teacher was also likely to give me more time to turn in my paper because of my reputation but even if she didn't I'd still pass the class.


I told him about the paper that I wrote, that the teacher had not seen it yet, that all he'd have to do was put his name on it, change a few things and print it. I could give him the flash drive and he could take it home, make a few changes to the paper like put his name on and rewrite some of it to make it more realistic that he wrote it. I wouldn't do this without a price. He offered me his skater stickers. They were kind of cool but I didn't want those. He offered me his new T shirt, it was a skater brand. It was a stylish shirt but not my style. He reached in his pocket and took about 9 dollars and some change, he offered me that. I didn't want it. I took a deep breath hoping for what I was about to ask for not to backfire but I asked what I really wanted.

"I'm not gay but - I'll give you it if you show me your um -" and my voice dropped down even lower, I pointed at his crotch and I finished "your um, private parts."

 He responded as one would expect an 8th grader to respond shock, disgust "my what?" I bravely repeated myself and I got back more shock and disgust. I was worried, I guess he wasn't as desperate as I thought and it blew up in my face.

I thought I'd hear about it from him at school and probably be teased mercilessly. Instead around an hour or so later he came back, "I'll do it." he said. He put his conditions down only 10 seconds he would show. "Wow" I thought 10 seconds was actually a lot of time.

We locked the door to my bedroom and he began undoing his belt and unbuckled his jeans. To my surprise he let them fall to the floor. Under the jeans rather than just underwear he was wearing two layers. A pair of basketball shorts and boxers. He held down the shorts and underwear and exposed himself and he began to count. He was fair in his count, it wasn't too fast as one might expect. He counted like this; 1, a short pause, 2 a short pause and so on.

The goods: dark brown, curly pubic hair growing wild, he also had hair on his wrinkly scrotum. One ball hung lower than the other. His penis was about 4 inches not erect, he was circumcised. The head of it, prominent like a mushroom. It hung to the left.

He got to 10 and didn't give me a second more of looking. I asked if he'd ever tell and he comically replied "Hellllll no". I gave him the flash drive because I felt that he would change some of the paper to reflect his writing style. He didn't but not only that he forgot to even change my name. He just printed it and somehow missed that my name was still on it so he showed me his dick and through no fault of my own I still got credit. He knew that he had messed up and thanked me anyway. We never mentioned the price that he had to pay, he certainly couldn't have taken it back.... like he could have with the money, stickers or t-shirt because I burned the image of his private parts into my mind.

 I never got to see his parts again but I knew what they looked like and thought of it whenever I talked to him. As for him he did eventually get that no F report card that he wanted.

Anonymous

Strange Dorm Mates

While visiting this blog the story about the boy performing for the college guy came to my attention. Skipping the details, the son of some friends of my parents spent a night in my dormitory with me. He had come to scope out college life. My roommate was not there and the boy began the night in the empty bed. However (and in retrospect I am not proud of this) I began to manipulate a hard-on after we got settled, and soon the younger guy was displaying signs of the same thing. We had not been watching each other very long when he got up from the other bed and asked if he could slide in with me. Things progressed rapidly from that point. "I bet yours is big" he told me, and soon we were feeling of each other's boners. The young guy proceeded to wrap his hand around my hard dick and pump me to a climax. I thought it was then my responsibility to jack him off, but he made it known that he would rather do his own job. He was not anywhere near HS graduation age yet, and I was already past that. So yeah.


I've had years to analyze that event and it seems pretty likely that he was an "active" person at home who perhaps wanted to see what it was like with a college guy.

How are Those Devilish Little Sperms so Sneaky?

In my 7th grade Science class, the female teacher was rather awkwardly teaching us about sexual reproduction. It wasn't a sex ed class, those didn't exist when I was in school. She was teaching us about the biology of mammals, all the biological details about sperm from the male fertilizing an egg or eggs inside the female. Then one naive boy in our class (and not raised on a farm) raised his hand and asked, "How does the sperm get there?" Those of us in the room who already knew how this happened started laughing so hard that we almost peed our pants.

But I have to admit that I personally didn't really fully know yet, because I hadn't yet had my first climax and no semen had ever shot out of my own penis yet. All I knew was that it happened when a man and a woman "slept together". I knew sperm were microscopic and they were made in the testes, and I thought that, somehow while the man and woman were asleep, his penis got close enough to her vagina so that these little sperms (you couldn't even see) sort of came out of his penis and were deposited inside of her.

It all made perfect sense to me because one day I had heard my mom on the phone with a friend of her's who just found out she was pregnant.

So I though it was just a surprise when sleeping together that this must sometimes happen, and that's why brothers and sisters were never allowed to sleep in the same bed or even in the same room together.

Anonymous

Reviewing the Classes

As I read this, I realized that I could have written exactly this myself.

Middle school was Such an amazing time for me, too, and for the same reasons that this writer expressed, except that by 9th grade I realized that most of the boys were becoming sexually into girls, even some of the ones I had messed around with and we had jerked off together.

For me, all through 8th grade I was also checking out the 7th graders, estimating which ones were starting to hit puberty, and then curious if they might be far enough along to have started jacking off and squirting, but also guessing which ones hadn't gotten that far yet.

I think that's because my first climax and ejaculation happened in late October of my 7th grade year. And this was also back in a time when I got to see loads of my classmates in all three grades regularly in the school showers. That was some generous motivation too.

Anonymous

Every Boy Experiments

I agree although 6th, 7th and 8th was Junior High for me but during those years we were all experiencing the same things. Our bodies changing from child bodies to adults and no book or video could really prepare us. I was in 6th grade when I had noticed my first pubic hair, then my penis started growing and somewhere around the end of 7th grade I spurted for the first time. I can't imagine my friends were all that different even if they were early or late bloomers. I wondered a lot about if I was normal. I jacked off and would feel guilty sometimes but low and behold I'd come back to it. I checked out other guys my age all the time mainly to see if I was measuring up so to speak.


In 8th grade and Freshman year of High School I had a few friends who jacked off with me here and there and it was reassuring to see that at least one other person in the world did the same things. My only regret was not just letting go and enjoying myself when we did things to pleasure each other. I used to hold back, and pretend I was weirded out or disgusted instead of just enjoying those moments. I thought back then to simply enjoy certain activities with another boy would make me gay and of course being 13 years old that's the worst thing. I didn't want to be one of those weird kids who liked boys and yet some of my most memorable and exciting sexual encounters were with other boys my age.

As I said, I wish that I would have just enjoyed my sexual explorations with no inhibitions, but I still had them so I am glad about that. Every boy no matter the race, religion, social class, intelligence, no matter what youth sub-culture they align themselves with, no matter any difference you can think of has the same changes and thoughts in common. I guarantee there is not one boy who around the middle school years doesn't at least think about what is happening to their bodies or experiment either alone or with someone else.

 I took care of an autistic boy who could not communicate and even he would take his dick out and jerk off. I'd to give him his privacy. It's so universal that even now at my age I can counsel my nephew in these changes that he is experiencing. Yes, so this resonates so much you don't even know.

Thanks

Hidden Kisses - A Compelling Film

It is not often that we post videos or Movie suggestions on here, but I found this film randomly, and appreciated certain merits to the story, acting and production. So many films that deal with same gender attraction for youths seem to get caught in a tangled mess of homophobia, self loathing, which permeates the story so deeply it becomes uncomfortable to watch. At times  I find the ending is just horrific then it leaves you despondent.


 Although Hidden Kiss does deal with some harsh Homophobia, I felt relieved that the guys sorted through the peer pressure and angst. I won't spoil the film any further, but leave you with a two thumbs up vote from me.


Eric~


Hidden Kiss (2016 - Breaking Glass Films)

Apologies I did not mention, it is French with English Subtitles