A story about hurricane refugees. Around 15 or 20 years ago when I was in my mid teens, a hurricane was bearing down on the city where some friends of my parents lived.
They family called and asked if they could come stay with us until the storm was over. Of course my parents said yes and we got the house ready for four extra people. A day later they arrived. Two cars stuffed with luggage, clothes, non-perishable food and even their dog. Their son Rusty was a little older than me, and they also had an elementary-age daughter. I had been told to act mature around Rusty because he was National Honor Society in debate and a lot of other things. And he was going to move into my room with me. I already disliked him before ever meeting the guy. However because they had to leave their home, everybody was anxious to please this desperate family, so we were all super polite to each other.
One problem did take root in my mind, though: When and where to jack off? My daily schedule revolved around a bedtime wank into a handful of Puffs tissue. This intrusion was going to mess up my secret ritual. As we prepared for bed I made a couple of observations. First, Rusty wore light-blue bikini underwear, which seemed a little worldly for a NHS achiever. And second, the underwear called attention to a ridge that the bikinis contained. Not an erection, but a longitudinal shadow that appeared to be at rest, pointing off to one side somewhere around 45-degrees above horizontal. With his jeans off, Rusty made occasional adjustments to his equipment, but casual-like. The evidence indicated that he was well-endowed.
To keep on schedule, I jacked off in the shower that evening. Not my favorite locale, but at least I emptied the daily production of cum. As we got into the twin beds, Rusty said something peculiar:
"I see you keep a box of Kleenex next to your bed." Took me by absolute and total surprise. I didn't know what to say, but finally got a lame sentence out;
"Yeah, sometimes I need them." "Convenient," he said, and we just let the conversation die.
We had been laying there several minutes when a good-size tent rose in Rusty's covers. Soon the tent began to vibrate. I immediately became hard but forced myself to keep my hands off my erection. Rusty may want privacy. He might not know that I can tell what he's doing. Then he spoke.
"Hey?"
"Yeah?"
"You think I could use some of your tissues?"
"Help yourself."
"Thanks."
"No prob."
"
"
"Understood."
"You don't mind?"
"Naw."
"You do it too?"
"Yeah."
"Wanna come over here?"
"You need help?"
"I'll help you if you'll help me."
Nature took its course. We were both under his covers, taking turns masturbating each other. I had just shot a load in the shower, yet I was now painfully erect again. While Rusty felt of me I began my final approach.
"Oh! Cumming! Oh! Oh!"
"Me too. Gimmie some tissues. Quick! . . . Gah! Big cum! Lotsa juice!"
That was the end of any friction between Rusty and me. He and his family stayed a week during which we pumped out massive loads of cum with each other every night. Rusty's visit remains one of my best memories.
Anonymous Host
Nice one. Rusty commenting on the box of tissues was a unique opening line. But Rusty had to carefully interpret the OP's response. Except for OP telling us that he noticed Rusty pounding himself, it could have turned out that OP just had a runny nose due to allergies.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in my teens I found that I most needed a wank when I felt horny, but I also felt like I needed or could really benefit from a good wank when I was under a lot of stress or anxiety about something. In those instances I felt so much better or relaxed from what was troubling or worrying me after a good climax and release.
ReplyDeleteMaybe the visiting boy really needed a wank because of all the stress of having to leave his home and find temporary shelter, and now staying with people he didn't even know. Maybe he just needed to do it more than he cared if this other boy realized he needed to wank so bad, or even saw him doing it.