Date: Thu, 30 Dec 2004 09:57:00 EST
From: PixaJax@aol.com
Subject: He made me do it Part 3

I loved it. On the downstroke, I pulled the foreskin right back to expose
my pink plump cockhead. On the upstroke, I pushed it right over my
cockhead. And then down. And then up. Faster and faster. My fist was a
blur, my heart raced, my head thumped, my arm ached, my little stiffy
tingled. And then, suddenly, it seemed to grow even harder and then, a
moment of stillness, like everything was suspended, before my whole body
seemed to catch fire. Like little needles in my flesh, like goosepimples,
like the hair standing up on the back of my neck, like tongues of fire
shooting from my groin down my legs, making my toes curl in excitement,
then through my torso until my whole body was one immense tingling
conflagration. It was wonderful! It was like nothing I had ever
experienced before. It was beautiful. And I was scared as hell. What had
I done to myself??? My stiffy suddenly began to feel raw and so sensitive
that I had to take my hand away. I was sure I had damaged it in some way.
But who could I tell? My mother? No way. There was nobody. I suddenly
felt very scared and very lonely. My stiffy subsided and I gently
explored my little dick for signs of damage. And for signs of the sticky
stuff. It was dry. Sore and dry. I vowed at that moment that I would
never do it again.
What had the man said: "Do you touch yourself? I bet you do, just like
all boys your age." Maybe other boys did this stuff too. I didn't know.
My mother sometimes said that older boys were "dirty", but in what way
they were dirty had been a mystery to me till now. Dirty. What I had done
was dirty? Instinctively, I knew that it was something my mother would
disapprove of. Wouldn't she? I was very confused.
Then it hit me: the one person who could explain all this to me was the
man in the barn. Of course I knew who he was, not that I had told my
mother. She knew him. He knew her. He knew my name. Not surprising, as he
was Mr Woodfin, owner of a draper's shop in our local community, selling
all manner of clothes for men and boys. Off-the-peg and made-to-measure,
his clothes were worn by half the males in the community. I remembered at
that moment an incident when my mother had taken me to get some clothes
for the new school year. I went into the changing room to try on my first
pair of long trousers, and he came in just as I had put them on. "Let's
see if they fit, young man," he had said, and had slid his hand up my
inner thigh and made me jump as his thumb brushed against my dick. Now it
all made sense. That was no accident!
The next day - it was half-term holiday - I walked along to his shop and
spent ages hovering round the door before plucking up the courage to
enter. When he saw me, a look of panic spread across his face.
"Erm, Michael, isn't it? Listen, dear boy..." - he looked around to make
sure there was no one else in the shop - "... about the other day...."
He paused.
".....I mean, our little secret, right?"
I was relieved. I wasn't the only one full of panic and uncertainties!
"Yes, sir."
"I mean," he went on, "just between us. Just a bit of fun, right?"
"Yes, sir."
He searched my face to divine what I was really thinking.
"Erm, well, yes. That's all right, then. Now, Michael, what can I do for
you? I am surprised you are not with your mother. Need some new clothes?"
"No, sir. I just......."
Now it was my turn to be hesitant.
".....I just need to talk to you. You see, there's things I don't
understand..."
"Oh. What things?"
"You know, like what we did...."
"Oh." The look of panic returned to his face. "Well, maybe this is not
the time or the place, Michael."
"I suppose so. When can I talk to you, sir? I promise not to be a
nuisance."
"Well, erm, why not meet me at the barn. Tomorrow afternoon. Better not
to say anything to your mother."
As if! I immediately forgot my promise to her to stay away from the barn.
"Yes. I will be there. Thank you, Mr Woodfin."
I secretly enjoyed using his name. It seemed reasonable. After all, I had
held his cock for him. Twice. What was less explicable to me was the fact
that my little dick had started to tingle and grow again. What I didn't
know - until he told me much later - was that his cock had also started
to get hard the moment I walked in his shop.
I went home and decided I would not touch myself again just in case what
I had done was harmful. And then, as I contemplated meeting him again in
the barn, my little dick got stiff, and I couldn't help myself. For the
second time in my young life, I brought myself to a state of total
ecstasy. And this time, I couldn't say that he made me do it. This time,
it was my own idea. And I didn't care that it was "dirty".
If only I could make sticky stuff the way he did.......

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