Disclosure: The following rambling journal is a true (names changed) account of my own personal experiences. It is not my intent to offend or to challenge anyone with my narrative. I just thought it might be interesting to share my thoughts with this forum which I have viewed with enthusiasm for a few years. Please do not read this if you are offended by descriptions of sex.
I'd like to say thank you to the many kind people who have emailed me their comments and encouragement. It's nice to hear from you! Also I have to apologize for rushing the last paragraph of Part 3, which I'll re-state here to begin...Part 4.
Steve & Steve, Part 4
On my way out the door, Steve slammed something into my chest and said "Your reading assignment." It was a slightly dog-eared paperback called "Men in Love" by Nancy Friday. "Rule number one; don't bend the spine or fold any of the pages. Rule number two; don't jerk off while you're reading it. I don't want my folks to know that I've been using this. You can keep it for a couple of days, but it has to be back before my dad comes back from his business trip."
I looked at Steve quizzically, looked back at the book and said "Thanks." Was I ever in for an education...
Steve's parents were quite a bit younger than my folks, and obviously a little more sexually adventurous. I mean nobody likes to think of their parents fooling around when the kids are asleep. I firmly believed that my parents only had sex a sum of 4 times, one for each kid, and only under strict permission from the minister of our conservative Presbyterian church.
Maybe it was because Steve's family was catholic, but whatever the reason was I wasn't about to complain! First finding his dad's porno, and now getting this book. If only his mother had some extra dildos...
I gently leafed through the book on the way home, and was both surprised and excited by the content.
(For those of you who have never heard of Nancy Friday, she wrote some groundbreaking books about sexuality. "Men in Love" is a collection of real sexual fantasies submitted by men, which Ms. Friday sorted into different categories and psychoanalyzed. I wasn't really interested in the psychoanalysis: the fantasies were red-hot! More importantly reading this book replaced the feelings of guilt and confusion I sometimes had, which we all share, about fantasizing, masturbating, and sexuality in general, and was instrumental in developing my own sexual perspective. If you haven't read this book I'd highly recommend it!)
Each fantasy started simply with the name of the man who submitted it, and was extremely graphic. Up to this point in my life the sum of my exposure to sex in the media was a couple of really old Playboys in another friend's basement, and the porno's Steve and I had recently enjoyed. Just seeing words like "penis" and "vagina" in print was unusual and exciting, and I rushed home to start my "research."
That night, after dinner and homework (always homework!), I hopped into bed and started leafing through the book. At the first sight of the work "penis" I started to bone up. My cock had a dull ache, like overworked muscles sometimes get, and with good reason. The 30 minute jerk-off session with Steve earlier that afternoon was like a marathon to me. My solo jerk-offs usually only lasted a few minutes (no privacy, too many nosy siblings). I leafed through the pages enjoying some pretty good fantasies, marveling that I was not the only one whose imagination ran rampant over this kind of stuff, and enjoying the frank descriptions of sex. Some of the chapters featured gay and bisexual entries which interested me (I wasn't really attracted to guys, but was curious about what they did to each other...and I enjoy it when Steve and I jerked off together, especially when he touched me) but I didn't want to risk marking or bending any of the pages in the book that would show where I'd read. Talk about paranoid!
I remember a couple of the fantasies in particular. One featured this guy who fantasized that he and his wife drank some magic potion that gave them both giant cocks, and then he and his wife let their friends ride around straddling their huge tree-trunk-like members. Another guy described his cock as his own best friend which, when he stroked it, would raise up big enough for him to hug and kiss it. For some reason these two fantasies got me really worked up, and I could no longer keep my hands off myself. For something so small in comparison to my entire body, at times my cock dominated my being. I had already leaked a pretty good amount of precum, and my pj's showed a big wet-spot. I carefully hid the book at the bottom of my knapsack, and then pulled out my cock.
It might have been my imagination, but my cock looked and felt bigger than it had earlier. Under the head the skin of the shaft looked a bit looser and fuller. I remembered the puffiness that Steve's cock had after he shot his load that afternoon, and started to think that maybe I could train my cock like a bodybuilder. If I gave it longer "work-outs" I might be able to increase my stamina as well as the size of my penis. I promised myself that from now on I would try not to rush my jerk-off sessions, but would take my time and concentrate on developing my stamina and technique. I moved my cock around a few times, viewing it from different angles, and then pushed it upright with both hands, watching as a bit more precum leaked out of the head. "Do you want me to jerk you off again, Mr. Happy?" I whispered, and then shook myself up and down to answer yes. "Okay, but only because you said so..."
Opening my night-table drawer I quickly grabbed my trusty hand-lotion (I was using so much lotion at this point that I got erections whenever I walked past a drug store) and greased up my pole. I tried to copy Steve's technique to see how it felt and started by holding my cock erect with my left hand, and pouring the lotion onto the head. I then gripped the base of my cock in my right hand and slowly slid up the shaft until the head of my cock was inside my grip. I let my palm roll forward, simultaneously smearing the lotion over the head and also lubricating my hand which I then twisted a bit and brought down very, very slowly, watching as my shiny cock-head popped up through my grip, and the mouth of my cock opened with the downward pull of my hand. Why hadn't I tried this before?! It felt fantastic! My fist had now reached the base of my cock and I continued down as far as possible, so that only my thumb was left around the top-side of my shaft, and my fist was pressing down firmly into my ball sac. Gently twisting my hand 45 degrees to the left, I brought my grip back up along the shaft, enjoying every millimeter of pleasure until I reached the head again, then a 45 degree twist back to the right, letting my hand roll over the head again, and then back down, slowly, down to the base again.
After a few passes up and down my shaft my cock was well lubricated and shiny. It looked redder than normal, and I still had that dull ache from the afternoon's jerk-off, but it also felt a bit bigger, a bit more powerful. I started a slow and steady rhythmic up and down beat, keeping my cock held up erect, and twisting my grip on the up and down strokes. Amazingly I didn't feel the immediate onset of orgasm like I'd expected, but this growing warmth emanating from the base of my cock which made the ache go away. That's how Steve managed to hold off so long, I realized. He jerked off in the morning, and was able to keep going for almost 30 minutes in the afternoon with me. Now I was determined to make this jerk off last as long as I could.
I started to see how slowly I could make each stroke last, counting in my head as my hand traveled up the shaft and stopping when the head slipped out of my grip at the top of each stroke. The best I could manage, without stopping my hand, was about 7 seconds, or roughly one second per inch. It was impossible to go slower than that, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't want to stop the sensations of my fingers rubbing up and down the shaft, the tickling of my cock head as my palm rolled and twisted over its purplish mushroom shape, the combined tension and pleasure of my fist pressing down against my balls, causing my cock to swell a little before my hand started back up again. I lost track of how many minutes this went on. The only times I stopped slow-jacking my meat were when the hand cream evaporated and I had to apply more.
I continued pumping my cock and started massaging my balls with my left hand. Gently rolling them around in my fingers I alternately rubbed and squeezed each one, and also squeezed them together, letting my hand run beneath them and press against "that" place which stimulated my prostrate. Even though it was still a bit tender, I was thrilled at the sensations each press brought to my already charged member. Sooner than I wanted I felt my balls draw up, as the slow build up to an orgasm began. Instinctively I gripped my balls and gently pulled them down, hoping to prolong the inevitable, and I was surprised when it seemed to work. My balls seemed to know what I wanted and relaxed a bit each time I tugged them. I continued to pump with my right hand, using the twist-grip which I'd learned from Steve, and kept playing with my balls. The sound of my right hand was identical to the sound Steve had made when he jerked his fat cock (kind of a "schlepping" sound) and for some reason I started to imagine that I was Steve, and that I was jerking his cock. Holding my cock up for another inspection, I was positive that it had swelled a bit with all the jacking, and was starting to look more and more like Steve's thick log. Slipping into the role, I scooped up a large drop of the precum that had collected on my stomach and licked it off of my finger. Jizz with a hint of Aloe hand cream...so that was what Steve's cum tasted like!
My mind went into high-gear, and images from that afternoon came flooding back. First the lesbian porno with the dildo, then Steve's big cock being fisted inches away from me, and now, in my imagination, his cock was being worked over by my fist. The last image that burned the back of my eyes was of a silver dildo slipping easily into my ass. I held onto this image and roughly jammed the middle finger of my left hand into my hole. My cock started throbbing much more slowly that in previous orgasms. This pulsing was more deliberate, more intense. I kept on pumping automatically, but it took me a lot of effort not to scream out. The cum didn't shoot out of my cock quickly like usual, but seemed to kind of build up as if there was a dam inside of my system which was blocking its release. After a few of these big pulses my cock swelled even bigger than before and the first rope of cum streamed out. I had shot a huge load in the afternoon with Steve, but this orgasm was a thousand times more intense, like I was ejaculating spinal fluid or something. Only a few, thick ropes of creamy jizz shot out of my cock, but the pulsing sensations continued much longer. I had to will my hand to stop jacking, as it was still on autopilot, and moved it to sample some of cum off of my chest. It was a thicker consistency than my normal loads, but still had the same mild earthy smell and taste. I'd have to learn what made Steve's cum smell so different some day.
My exhausted cock quickly shriveled to normal proportions, but was red and puffy, especially towards the top of the shaft where I had done most of the intense squeezing and twisting. Here the swelling made my cock shaft almost twice its normal diameter. I was instantly freaked out, and had trouble getting to sleep that night, scared that I had permanently damaged myself, and imagining having to explain my self-violation to my parents. I woke up early the next morning and was relieved to see that some of the swelling had gone down, and that my dick still seemed to function properly; a healthy morning piss verified that. It still felt spongy, and had a tingly feeling, but I decided to wait before freaking my parents out. Maybe I could talk to Steve about it after school.
School that day was a bit of a drag. I was tired from my restless sleep, and must have run to the bathroom at least 10 times to examine my penis for signs of normalcy. When school was finally over, I met up with Steve at our lockers and asked him what he was doing later.
"My dad's returning from his business trip at 7, so I've got to go the train station to meet him with mom and Amy. I also have to finish chores, but if you want to hang out, come over at 4 or 4:30...and don't forget to bring back the book!" he said.
I stayed at school to work on an assignment in the library until about 4, and then rode over to Steve's house. The smell of fresh-cut grass told me that he'd finished his chores, but when I knocked on the door nobody answered. Opening the door, I called out Steve's name and headed toward his room. I heard the sound of the shower as soon as I reached the living room.
From there the hallway to Steve's room passed right past the bathroom, and I could hear the sounds of him splashing around in the shower. He obviously didn't expect me for another thirty minutes or so, because he had left the bathroom door open. I stuck my head in to let him know I was there, but my greeting got cut off when I saw the shadow of Steve through the shower curtain. As light from the bathroom window poured into the room I could see Steve's entire outline clearly, I could even see the stream of water.
What I saw in vivid detail was Steve beating off his fat cock with his right hand, while sinking the middle finger of his left hand in and out of his ass. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! And although I was not normally turned on by guys, I felt myself start to harden immediately. Steve and I had become closer than ever since we'd first jerked off together, so I guess I was tuned in to his sex drive or something, but seeing his shadow in the shower was getting me hot. I watched in fascination as he continued to jam his fingers (at least two now) while taking long slow pulls on his cock. It must have only been a couple of minutes before he stopped jerking off and turned off the shower, but my own cock was throbbing in my shorts. I loosened the waistband on my shorts and reached down to give myself a couple of shakes, and was relieved to see that my cock, in its erect condition, was almost back to normal.
I decided that it would be best for me to wait in the living room, so Steve wouldn't get freaked out. I heard him moving about in the bathroom for a bit before the sound of his feet on the carpet let me know that he was in his bedroom. Giving myself a 10-count to let Steve get some clothes on, and to let my tented shorts settle down, I started down the hall again. This time it wasn't the sounds of the shower that stopped me short, but the tell-tale "schlepping" sounds of Steve's well-practiced cock pulling. He hadn't finished himself off in the shower, and was still pounding his meat! Again I had to wonder where he developed such stamina, and I edged forward towards his room.
Steve's room was the last room on the left of the hallway, right next to the bathroom, and across the hall from his parent's bedroom. His sister's room was directly across the hall from the bathroom, and I quickly slipped into her room so I could look directly into Steve's room diagonally. The afternoon sunshine was flooding in from Steve's side of the house, leaving his sister's room in semi-shadows. From where I was standing I could see all of Steve's bed, and the corner of his desk. The steady schlepping sound told me that Steve was still fully aroused, but I couldn't see him. I heard sound of him rummaging around in his closet, and almost laughed as I imagined him trying to maneuver around while spanking his monkey. Finally, Steve found what he was after and I watched as his tight buttocks backed away from the closet, and walked to the desk, all the while I could see his right elbow flexing as he jerked off.
Schlep, schlep, schlep. The rhythm was so compelling, and I was surprised again as my cock jumped to life. I didn't want to risk injuring myself, and would never be able to explain to Steve what I was doing with my cock out if he caught me, so I did what I could, adjusting myself so that the top two inches or so of my cock stuck up over the waistband of my shorts, and were shielded by my t-shirt. Steve's pumping suddenly stopped, and I held my breath. He was holding something in front of himself with his left hand, and was now shaking his bottle of lotion with his right hand. It was obvious that he was lubricating something, and my heart started pounding. What was he doing? Was his fingering in the bathroom just a warm-up for something else? Did his mother really have dildos?! I still couldn't see what he was holding, but Steve had now moved to kneel on his bed (facing away from me, thank goodness), and I finally saw what he had been greasing up.
Steve pulled a make-up mirror off of his desk and laid it on the bed underneath him. Then, steadying himself with his left hand, he grabbed his swollen cock in his right hand and started jerking off again. I had never seen his cock from this angle before, and I watched as his nuts swung back and forth while he pumped his hand up and down his shaft. The light shining in the window now picked up glints of sweat on Steve's muscular back, and also highlighted what looked like a huge drop of precum dripping out of his cock head. This must have signaled some stage of readiness for Steve, because he again stopped jerking his cock, and produced from next to him a greased up Hestitan. That is what he was lubing! My cock pulsed a few times, reminding me that it was still rock hard and sticking out of my shorts. What the fuck was Steve doing with that thing?
I am not sure if "Hestitan" is the proper word for this thing, but we were given "Karate Key-chains" after completing a unit of Karate in gym class. It was simply a 6 inch piece of shaped wood, like the end of a broomstick, with a hole in one end that had a strip of leather looped through it. We were instructed how to use it to break attackers' wrists or to gouge out their eyes, but it looked like Steve had found another practical use for his. I think I still had mine at home somewhere, and made a solemn promise to find it, clean it, and grease it up. But first things first!
Steve steadied himself again with his left hand, and had his head down to watch in the mirror, making it possible for me to move a bit closer to his room. Holding the Hestitan in his right hand he slowly started to slide it up and down his hairless ass. Steve and I have almost identical builds, but I had never noticed how smooth he was, especially is legs and ass. He played the end of the stick over his bud a few times, letting out a very low moan as he circled his hole. I could see that the end of the Hestitan was very well lubed, and again held my breath as Steve lined it up with his hand. The tip of the stick was now balanced at the entrance to Steve's ass, and he positioned his hand at the end, looping his fingers into the strap. Gently, but firmly, Steve's hand pushed down on the stick. I could see the well-defined muscles of his wrist flex as he forced more and more pressure on the stick. To my surprise there was no sudden lurch or a big push. Smoothly, and with intense control Steve's asshole opened up around the stick and welcomed the entire six inches in one slow push. This was not his first time doing this little party trick. Holding the stick in place for a few seconds Steve brought his left hand back to take over from his right hand which he quickly brought back down to his throbbing cock.
The whole stick was in his ass now. Just the loop of leather was left sticking out of his puckered anus, and I couldn't believe how easily it had simply disappeared inside him. My mind raced as I imagined the kinds of erotic sensations which Steve must be experiencing, the pressure in his ass, the hardness of the stick in his ass, and the stimulation of his prostrate. My cock twitched again, and it took all of my youthful restraint to stop me from whipping it out and blasting a load on the hallway carpet. I still couldn't believe my eyes, and wasn't sure what my own arousal meant, but could care less now that I was caught up in watching Steve. He had retrieved about half of the Hastitan with his left hand, and now started a slow butt-fuck, which matched the pace of his right hand. As his left hand twisted and inserted the stick, his right hand twisted and stroked his cock.
In went the stick; up went Steve's hand, finally resting at the base of his wickedly swollen cock as the end of the stick disappeared into his rectum. Then a gentle tug on the leather loop, and the stick slid slowly out of his ass as his hand pulled down to the end of his cock.
It looked awkward, but Steve was a practiced hand, and he started to rock back and forth as the pace picked up a little. Now he no longer let the Hestitan escape his grip, but held it in his fist so that four inches or so could reach into his guts as he twisted and plunged it in and out. Faster and faster his left hand kept on jabbing at his ass, and his right hand traveled up and down his cock. This was nothing like the slow and deliberate jack-off I'd shared with him watching pornos. He was obviously getting close to shooting a big load, and, I was glad to see, was losing some of his control. I was aching to touch myself, and my cock was throbbing along in time to Steve's jerks. A few times I reached down through my shorts to gently press my balls down, as I could feel them rising up even though I wasn't playing with myself. Steve let out a couple of loud gasps, something like "Nghoo!" and then suddenly jammed the Hestitan deep into his ass. He had forgotten about the loop of leather, and buried the stick with his fingers. He now had all six inches of the stick buried in his ass, along with the index finger of his left hand, about four inches or so. That made ten inches!
His right hand was now a blur as his hips started to flex. He was beating off like crazy, and I could tell he was still watching the mirror as a huge splash of cum gushed out of his cock and spattered onto the mirror. His body started heaving up and down as he went over the edge, and cum splattered down the inside of his right thigh, onto the mirror, and onto the sheets. The flexing of his hips slowed down, and he continued to pump and squeeze the last remaining drops of cum from his cock, and then gave a contented sigh before flopping over onto his side.
There I was looking straight into the surprised but slightly glazed look of my best friend, his distended cock still twitching on his stomach, his face flushed and exhilarated from his marathon butt-play, and his chest glistening with sweat. The sunshine seemed to intensify, making Steve seem to glow. He was panting, but made no move to cover himself or say anything, and I was too caught up in what I'd just seen to formulate a coherent sentence. What would have been an uncomfortable silence was broken by my own sudden and knee-jerking climax. I fell onto my knees as hot jets of cum shot out of my cock, soiling my t-shirt. Steve started to roll off the bed, but stopped half-way and flopped back down again.
"Fuck, my shirt!" I said. "Steve...I'm so sorry... I should have told you I was here but you looked like you didn't want to be disturbed..." I didn't know what to say and felt ridiculous kneeling there with my sticking shirt showing Steve that I'd obviously been perving on him. "I brought back the book you lent me..."
"Forget it! What did I do that you don't want to do, right! I won't tell anyone about you blowing a load in your shorts if you'll get over here and give me a hand", he said.
I started across the room, stopped to pull my cum-soaked shirt off, and then reached the bed. "What can I do for you, sir?" I asked, feeling so many conflicting emotions I won't even try to write them down.
"Well, for starters, can you help me get this thing out of my ass!" he laughed.
I relaxed a bit, knowing that he wasn't pissed at me about watching him, but also curious at so many of the things I'd just witnessed. What was this leading to? Why did I shoot my rocks watching Steve assaulting himself with his "deadly weapon?" I did my best to help Steve clean up, and pretty soon he was able to fish the leather loop out of his ass, drawing the Hestitan out with a "pop" that made us both laugh. I couldn't help staring at his pumped up cock, which was still semi-hard and puffy. He caught my look and started to act a bit self-conscious, stooping to pick up his shorts.
"Dude, can I ask you something? I mean, about your dick? Are you cool about that?" I asked.
"Whatever man, but hurry it up. My folks should be home any minute" he answered.
In answer, I pulled down my shorts, revealing my still semi-erect, still puffy cock. "Last night I jacked off for almost an hour, and when I finished my cock was all puffy. Is it going to be like that all the time?" I asked him.
"Don't worry man. You just have to give yourself time to recover between jerking off. Did you use lube?" I nodded. "Good. Before I started greasing my pole I nearly ripped the skin off. Tomorrow if you're not doing anything why don't you come over right after school? I think I can show you a couple of "techniques" that you'll enjoy, and I want you to try something with me."
I hastily agreed, not sure of what he meant by the last bit, but anxious to smooth over the weirdness of the last few minutes. I left Steve, who had returned his dad's book to the bookcase, and promised to meet him on the way to school tomorrow, and I went home to look for my Karate stick.
When I was doing my homework that night, Steve called me, obviously in tears which freaked me out. "What's wrong Stevie? What's going on?"
"My dad just came back from Cleveland, and they've offered him a senior position if we can relocate. I think we're going to move." I was stunned to silence. "We don't know exactly when, but it'll probably be right after final exams..."
I'll be adding more soon. Thanks for your support! Please send comments to stevesjournal@hotmail.com