Date: Tue, 9 Nov 2004 12:38:13 EST
From: PixaJax@aol.com
Subject: Growing Up Part One

When I was a young boy, I slowly became aware that I was attractive to some
older boys - and to some grown-up men, too. I didn't understand exactly the
nature of the attraction, but it seemed to have something to do with their
dicks and mine.

The village postman, for example, would always wink at me, point at my
crotch and ask "How's your little spout today?"

My friend Deggy's uncle, Albert, seemed to take a delight in letting
us see him pee, although his manner of peeing, which involved pulling
repeatedly on his cock while he leered at us, seemed very odd to me. "Like
what you see, boys?" he would say, and then wave his cock at us. It seemed
enormous to me, an object which repulsed and fascinated me at the same
time.

Then there was John the Baker (I never knew his surname), a soft-spoken
gentle sort of man, who regularly lured me into his bakery with promises of
fresh crusty bread and delicious iced buns. At first he merely stroked my
hair or patted my cheek, but it was clear to me, innocent and young as I
was, that he would have loved to become more intimate with me. Sometimes he
would sit me on his lap while we ate from the wooden top where the goodies
were laid out. It was at these moments that his hands would wander more
boldly, mostly over my thighs or down to squeeze my young buttocks.
Sometimes I could feel his cock against me. It seemed alive, swelling and
twitching and growing. I was just as fascinated as I was with Uncle
Albert's cock, and more and more curious to know what made a man's cock
grow hard like that.

I soon learned from the dirty talk in the school playground and in the
school lavatories what cocks were all about. When I was just nine years'
old, I acquired a vocabulary of forbidden words like "hard-on" "wank" and
"spunk" , and, more mysterious, "cocksucking" and "bumfucking". Seeing
older boys masturbating and clearly enjoying it, I had to give it a go. I
tried to encourage my friend, Deggy, to wank with me, but he just wasn't
interested. So, I carried on by myself, desperate to "spunk up" the way the
older boys did - so spectacularly!. It was a long time before my first
ejaculation, but I had what I later learned were called "dry orgasms", and
these were a real thrill. Of course, I was secretive about my masturbatory
activities. I indulged my solitary pleasures furtively, in the loo, in bed,
in the woods, or wherever I could find a concealed place to take my
diminutive penis out, stiff without even one stroke, and then pump
furiously to climax.

"Hello, young'un, how's your spout today?"

I wasn't too pleased to have my lovely cock called a spout, damn the
postman. I glowered at him.

"How's yours?"

He grinned.

"Oh mine is in fine shape. Wanna see it, young'un?"

He pulled me down an alley between the houses, and unbuttoned his flies. He
flicked out his cock which, even flaccid, was like a huge fat sausage. He
gave it a few quick strokes and, sure enough, it started to swell and come
erect. I stared at. Well, I ogled it more like. I was totally fascinated by
its size and the way it got hard, and the veins along it, and the purple
knob partly concealed by a fleshy foreskin.

"Well, boy, what do you think? Nice, eh?"

When I didn't reply, his voice became urgent.

"Let me see yours. Only fair."

Why would a man with a magnificent cock like his want to see my little boy
penis? Oh well. I took my cock out and held it shyly. It was already erect.

"Oh my, what a lovely little stiffy! Mmm. I tell you what, let's go into
that shed over there and I'll let you play with my cock. Would you like
that?"

Would I?! I always expected that the first mancock I would touch would be
John the Baker's, but I guess he was too timid to take the first
step. There was nothing timid about the postie!

I allowed him to lead me into the semi-darkness of the little shed, our
cocks barely concealed as we walked. Inside, he held his cock out from the
base of the shaft. "There you are, youngster. Don't be shy. Take a hold of
it."

My stiffy was sticking straight up again, such was my arousal. But, my god,
when I first wrapped my fingers round the hard cylinder of his erection, I
felt a pulsing in my penis that I had never experienced before. This was
exciting beyond anything I had imagined!

"Now, wank me, boy. You know how to wank, don't you? Come on, toss me off!"

He sat back on some sacking, his legs splayed, and got me to kneel in order
to get a good grip on his cock. I set to work with a will, holding his cock
with two hands, and sliding my closed fist back and forth along the
vein-rippled shaft, pushing his foreskin over his helmet and then back over
the ridge on the downstroke. My stiffy was throbbing as it stabbed the
air. I was in heaven. Postie had his eyes closed and was uttering little
animal noises from the back of his throat as if in pain, but I was sure
that he was experiencing the exact opposite: pure sexual ecstasy at having
a young boy kneeling in front of his cock like it was an altarpiece in
church and masturbating him to climax.

"Fuck, boy, you're good! You are fucking good! Don't stop! Oh fuck...."

I watched transfixed at the clear fluid oozing from the slit of his swollen
cockhead as it bobbed back and forth under the ministrations of my
caressing fingers. It wasn't milky like the stuff the older boys spurted
when they spunked up, and it wasn't pee.

"What's the stuff coming out?" I asked boldly, my curiosity overcoming my
natural shyness.

He opened his eyes briefly.

"It's called precum. It comes whenever I jack off."

"Precum?"

"Yeah! I call it my lovejuice, cos I love to juice up when a pretty boy
like you tosses me off!"

I had never thought of myself as pretty. What did he mean: "pretty"? Pretty
was what girls were, not boys. But I soon learned that my role in life was
to please men, the way a pretty girl might please a man. And I loved it!

"Wow. Lovejuice."

"Taste it, boy!" he said abruptly. He pulled my head forward brusquely till
my mouth was forced on to his cockhead. I had not expected this and didn't
like it. Suddenly, I was frightened.

"Don't!" I pleaded, my voice muffled by the manmeat pressed against my
lips.

He relaxed.

"It's all right, young'un, I won't force you. Just get a little on the tip
of your tongue. And don't stop wanking me, ok?"

Gingerly, I tested the clear fluid. Mmmm, I liked it. It was like nothing I
had tasted before. Sweet? Salty? Smooth? Creamy? A strange melange of all
these things, a taste to remember. Emboldened, I licked his cockhead some
more.

"I knew you you'd like it!" he was almost breathless with excitement now. I
knew from watching the older boys at school that he was close to spunking
up. I had no idea what would happen, but I was proud that I, a mere
ten-year old boy, could make a grown man spunk up. When, I wondered, would
I ever spunk up?


[to be continued. Comments to pixajax@aol.com]