Date: Fri, 18 Apr 2003 05:16:02 EDT
From: PixaJax@aol.com
Subject: Helping Hand

Helping Hand
by pixajax@yahoo.com

Chapter 1: Dave

I was born and brought up in a small market town which had one cinema, and
that was my life. I used to go two or three times a week and I didn't much
care what was showing. It was for me an escape from reality. And it
provided something else very important: it gave me images to masturbate
to. And I wasn't the only one who loved to jerk off in the cinema. But I am
getting ahead of myself.

I learned about "wanking" as the older boys called it when I was twelve. I
had gone on a summer farming camp and three of us shared a tent: me and
another boy my age called Douglas, and an older boy of sixteen Dave
Somebody, who I didn't know.

The first night, after we had settled down, none of us could sleep.
Excitement of being in a strange environment, the heat under canvas and the
fact that it was still light. In the gloom, I became aware that Dave, who
was between me and Doug, was lying on top of his sleeping bag. Naked. And
his hand was moving slowly up and down as if he was massaging his
cock. Which, of course, he was.

I had heard about wanking, and had even tried it, but it didn't seem to be
much fun, and I had moreorless forgotten about it till I saw Dave. He
turned to Doug and said "Wanna hold it?" Doug, a real shy kid, just turned
his head away. Then Dave turned to me. My heart missed a beat. I was a
little scared of older boys, they were rough and could beat you up if they
didn't like you.

"What about you? Wanna hold it?"

His voice was gruff but not unfriendly. As he spoke he slid his fingers,
palm downwards, to the base so that I could see his cock standing out proud
and stiff from his body. Compared to mine, it seemed enormous. I stared at
it, embarrassed, and gulped. It looked so smooth and silky, hard and yet
soft at the same time. I was fascinated.

"Well, Jax" - I loved that he knew my nickname - "what's the matter? Never
seen a cock before?"

In fact, I hadn't seen any cocks except the little things that the boys in
my class all dangled in the showers. Sometimes, one of the boys would have
a hard on, but it was just a joke to us, nothing to take seriously. But
Dave, lying next to me naked, his hard cock looking bigger than ever, was
deadly serious. I gulped again and tried to stammer out an answer, fearing
that my silence might make him angry.

"W-w-well, ok...."

He gave a short laugh, but it was without humour or warmth. He wanted me to
jack him off, and his need was getting more and more urgent.

"C'mon, boy, get your hand round it. Like this. See?"

I watched fascinated as he wrapped his fingers round his shaft again and
began working his fist up and down slowly. After a few strokes he took his
hand away and closed his eyes. He didn't even speak. He KNEW I was going to
do it.

That moment when I rolled on to my side towards him and wrapped my fingers
round his cock changed my whole life. There was no "learning curve", I was
instantly mesmerised and enthralled by the feel of a man's cock in my
fist. Even today, many years later, I can still recall how it felt to me:
the skin beautifully soft and warm, in contrast to the bone-like hardness
under the skin, the occasional throb as it swelled in response to my
pumping hand, the fascinating feel of the ridge of his glans as his
foreskin slid over it so smoothly. I was hooked. I looked up at his face as
I worked enthusiastically on his cock. His eyes were closed, his lips were
slightly parted in a shadowy smile of satisfaction. His breathing was
getting faster as I pumped away. I had no idea what would happen, I just
wanted this moment to go on forever. I was in heaven. In thrall, in fact, a
state of enslavement that I have been in ever since.

"Coming....." he grunted, wrapping his hand over mind and causing me to
quicken my stroke.

"Hold it tighter!"

I gripped it harder, and was amazed at how rock-solid it was. How could a
cock go from being limp to being like a pillar of granite? My hand was a
blur now, my arm was beginning to ache. He had taken his hand away and was
making thrusting movements with his pelvis. I was SO proud that I was
pleasing him, a sixteen-year-old!!!

His cock seemed to stiffen or shudder in my fist, even grow a little bigger
if that was possible, and he suddenly went absolutely still. I thought
something had gone wrong.

"Now!!!!!!!!!" he said hoarsely.

He rolled on his side towards me as the first surge shot arc-like from his
pulsating penis. The warm milky fluid splashed over my chest, a few drops
hitting my face. I let go of his cock in a panic that I had done something
wrong. Immediately he pulled my hand back, closed his own over it and
pumped several more surges of cum. Each spurt was accompanied by grunts and
incomprehensible words. It was as if he was in pain, but I was sure now
that I had done something wonderful, something which gave him pleasure. I
didn't care that the sticky liquid splashed over my body, my face, my
hair. I didn't care as the last surge caused cum to ooze over my fingers
and down my wrist. I just LOVED what I had done for Dave. At the moment, I
loved him, I loved his cock, I just wanted more than anything to do this
again and again and again.

When his ecstasy finally subsided, he let out a long sigh of satisfaction,
the sort of audible acknowledgement of pleasure that you might give at the
end of a good meal.

"Good lad."

That was all the praise I would get, but I didn't care.

"Did you get a hard on too?" he asked after a moment.

It was unbelievable. I had been so absorbed in masturbating him that I
hadn't even noticed that my own modest penis was as stiff as a pencil! It
was still stiff, and aching.

I was embarrassed again.

"Y-yes. Sorry, Dave."

For the first time he laughed. A genuinely amused laugh.

"Sorry? What you sorry about? Jax, don't be sorry. Enjoy it. Do you wank?"

"No. Well, not like, you know......"

"Wanna wank now, kid? Want me to do it for you?"

My cock thrilled and pulsated at the very thought of him touching me
there. Nobody had EVER touched me there. At that moment I gave a response
which I have regretted the rest of my life.

"Er, no, it's ok. Thanks anyway."

"Please yourself, Jax."

With that he turned over and went to sleep. Surreptitiously, after sliding
into my sleeping bag, I wrapped my fingers round my aching stiffy and
started to masturbate. It wasn't the same, and I soon lost heart. I had
missed my chance.

Next morning, Dave was up early to go to the showers. Doug stirred.

"I saw what you and him were doing last night. It's dirty."

"Sure, Doug" - I was trying to sound sophisticated - "but it's great. You
should try it sometime."

"Yuck."

"Want me to wank you right now, Doug?"

I was teasing him. I knew his family background. Anything to do with sex
was dirty, sinful, wicked. As I made my offer, I felt that sweet thrill as
blood began to engorge my cock and bring me to another erection.

"Look, it's great! Come on, Doug, let's wank together!"

"Well, well, well! What have we here? The little boys playing with their
dicks?"

Dave had come into the tent and was looking down at us sardonically,
savouring our embarrassment. Doug grabbed his towel and dashed out, leaving
me alone, cock in hand, and Dave looking down at me. He let the towel slip
from his waist. He was already semi-stiff. His cock in the daylight looked
more delicious than ever. I wanted to hold it again. Desperately.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, Doug? He says it's dirty."

"And what do you think, Jax?"

He threw himself on his mattress, his hands clasped behind his head, and
looked up at the roof of the tent. His cock was swaying slightly, still not
rigid enough to stand firm. When he spoke again, he made a point of not
looking at me.

"Want to do me again, kid?"

Then he rolled over towards me and reached out for my stiff little cock.

"Come on, Jax, let's do each other. OK?"

I knew at that moment that I was at the start of a long and wonderful
journey, a road which would lead directly to the bliss which is love
between men. Now that I am older, my own passion is to introduce boys to
the joys of sex the way I was inducted by Dave.



Chapter 2: Robin



I never saw Dave again, the older boy who had introduced me to
masturbation, but I became a kind of crazy enthusiast for jacking off after
that, always getting hard the moment I remembered the feel of his cock in
my hand. It was a while before I finally had my first ejaculation. Can you
remember your first? When it happens, that sudden stiffening, that amazing
thrill that seems to surge down your thighs, and then the first
unbelievable spurt...... When it happens, it's like your whole body is
taken over by some wonderful demon power. That's it. It's not just the
wonderful thrill, it's the sense of power that you get. Well, that's how it
happened to me. I was so proud of my ability to cum that I seemed to be
wanking all the time. I had the power, I could do something younger boys
couldn't do. I could do something that girls couldn't do. I could
masturbate to orgasm and spill warm sticky fluid wherever it landed.

The local cinema became my favourite place to enjoy myself. Cock in hand, I
would watch movies, waiting for the images that would excite me, and then
my fist would become a blur of action till the image disappeared and then -
I cannot believe now what self-control I had at such a young age! - I would
wait till the next image came on the screen to stir me to action again.
What images? Well, like most kids my age, I believed that women, and
particularly their breasts, were the true objects of desire. But this
illusion disappeared dramatically one evening. In the semi-darkness of the
cinema, I was wanking as usual to the point where I came, releasing a jet
of cum that spattered against the back of the seat in front of me (I had
learned to lower my aim!), at which moment I heard the mocking laugh of two
women sitting somewhere behind me. They must have been watching me, and
burst into their contemptuous cackling when I shot my load. My first
reaction was one of shame mixed with fear that I might be "reported".

But that soon gave way to a much different emotion. Hate. I hated them with
a strength of loathing that I can still cannot recall. without amazement.
They had laughed at my great accomplishment, my ability to get hard, wank
and produce quantities of beautiful cum. And what could THEY do, these
bloated women with their lumpy globes of sagging fat on their chests and
that ugly gash between their legs (I had never seen a cunt, of course, and
from that moment on, I had no desire to). They were only jealous because
they didn't have a cock like mine. Or a cock like Dave's...... That thought
hit my like a bullet.

That night in bed, I was rock hard again thinking about cocks, not just
Dave's, but just cocks in general, fully erect, throbbing, vein-rippled,
feeling like rods of iron under your fingers. And that magical "helmet"
with its ridge that seemed to be the source of all the most wonderful
thrills in the world. Cocks. Men. The images burned into my brain. I knew
at least dimly that something important had happened that evening in the
cinema. Something even more wonderful was to happen within a very few
days......

I knew about Robin X........ by reputation, but I didn't know him because
he went to a different school from me. Other boys my age talked about him
in giggles, because he was reputed to be forever flashing his penis to
other boys, specially younger boys, in public places. He was some kind of
Scout Leader. I guess he was about 18, well, anyway, he was a "big boy" as
far as we youngsters were concerned. The rumours about him fascinated
me. Why would he do that? Why would he want to let young boys see his cock,
see him jacking off? Oh dear me, "curiosity killed the cat" they say, and I
was SO curious about this Robin.



By one of those coincidences that life throws our way sometimes, I was in
the cinema one evening, jacking, this time furtively: I didn't want any
more cackling women to see me. The movie, I seem to recall, was one of
those swashbuckling adventures, with Errol Flynn clones in tights being
pirates or some such. I had taken to watching the men on the screen,
getting my buzz from any glimpse of a bulging crotch or even the slightest
hint of a cock beneath the cloth. There was a movement to my left and a low
Psssst! I turned, worried someone had seen what I was up to. I immediately
recognised the notorious Robin. There were three empty seats between us,
but it was not difficult to see what he wanted to show me. His flies were
open and he was holding his erect penis by the base in a gesture which
meant Look at this!  He caught my eye and grinned at me, then nodded
towards his cock. I turned away at once. I could feel a tightness in my
throat. I was scared, bewildered, I don't know what. Remember, I was a shy
kid with a great fear of older boys and here was one trying to draw me into
god knows what game.

Psssst! again. This time when I looked, he gave a few swift strokes of his
cock and then made a beckoning gesture towards me with his other hand. His
meaning was unmistakeable: Would you like to do it for me? Without waiting
for a response, he slid furtively along the three seats that separated us
and sat next to me.

"Toss me off," he whispered urgently. I had not heard this expression
before, but I knew at once what it meant. He placed his hand on my wrist
and just held it gently. It was my left hand, the one I always used to
masturbate, and it had been, moments before, wrapped around my own
erection. I had hastily tucked my cock away, but my flies were still
open. I wanted to hold his cock, god knows, I SO wanted that! I raised my
hand slightly, and he gently pulled it towards him. The first contact of my
fingers on his warm hard cock sent thrills through me. There is something
so beautiful about that first contact. I wrapped my fingers round the
shaft, once again marvelling that it felt as if there were solid bone
beneath that soft warm velvety skin. My own cock responded at once,
stirring and rising inside my pants. I began to masturbate him the way I
had learned that hot summer's night with Dave. I KNEW I could to it well
for Robin too. That made me feel good. That made me feel special. But
something was different. I couldn't see anything, but by feel I became
aware that there was something different about Robin's penis. I was much
more aware of the knob, I could feel it naked under my fingers. Most of my
friends had foreskins, except for two Jewish boys who explained to us about
circumcision. Robin had no foreskin! I was fascinated. It made me redouble
my efforts to "toss him off" as expertly as I knew how.

Suddenly, he pulled my hand away.

"Come on," he whispered, "follow me."

With that, he adjusted himself, got up and went out of the row and up the
aisle to the exit. I sat for a few moments, wondering what to do. This was
venturing into the unknown, and the unknown can be dangerous. But, with my
hand still tingling from the sensation of his cock and my whole groin on
fire, I got up and followed him. Thus began an encounter that was to
determine the direction of my whole life.



Chapter 3: The outbuilding



I followed Robin out of the cinema and into the warm summer's night, my
heart thumping in my chest. This was unknown territory for me, and I was
both scared and exhilirated. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure
I was following him and gestured with his hand towards an outbuilding
before beckoning me to catch up with him. As I caught up with him, he put
his hand on my shoulder and grinned down at me. Unbelievably he was still
holding his cock in his other hand. I couldn't resist glancing at it,
noting in the half-light that it still looked enormous, even though it was
only semi-stiff. And that distinctive shape: the helmet naked and
uncovered. It made it look somehow even more powerful, menacing even.

"Good boy," he said, squeezing my shoulder, "let's go in here."

As he spoke he pulled me firmly through an archway and into what seemed to
be a disused public toilet. Yes, that's what it was. A distant streetlamp
on the other side of the building illuminated the place, a urinal and a
toilet in the corner without a seat.The walls, long since left unpainted,
were covered with scribbled messages and crude drawings. I later learned
that it was a venue for men seeking the company of other men, but at this
moment, all I could think of was that I was alone with a very strange older
boy who was still rubbing his exposed cock while holding on to me by my
shoulder.

"What's your name, boy? Mine's Robin."

"I know, sir," I said. Sir! Anyone would think he was one of my teachers! I
told him my name.

"Well, Jack Metin, I will call you Jax, cos you look to me like a boy who
"jacks off" whenever he can, right?"

He released his grip on my shoulder and moved his hand down to grope
between my legs. Instinctively I flinched and stepped backward. He grabbed
my bundle, firmly but gently and pulled me back to him.

"Do you know what jacking off is, boy?"

"It's er it's the same as wanking, si......" I let the word sir die on my
lips. This was no teacher, this was a horny man with a pulsating erection
wanting to have fun with a young boy: me! The heat and pressure of his hand
on my crotch started to have an effect and my cock stirred into life once
more.

"Get it out, boy, let me see it. Then we can have some fun."

He released his grip on me then and proceeded to stroke his cock back to
full erection while he watched me fumble inside my trousers and bring out
my cock.

"Mmmmm, nice! Show me how you wank, boy!"

My heart was still thumping so loudly I felt sure he could hear it, but my
excitement was mounting with each passing second and I started to rub
myself to a full erection while he watched. I could see that he was getting
more and more excited too. He was breathing heavily and grunting as he
stroked his cock faster and faster. I kept looking up at his face to make
sure he was pleased with me. He was.

"It's good, isn't it, Jax?" he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes s...., yes, Robin...."

I loved that he had finally stopped calling me boy and had used my name, or
at least the nickname he had given me. It was as if we were friends now, on
the same side, enjoying the same things.

"Would you like to hold mine again, Jax?"

God, it was what I wanted more then anything! More even than wanking myself
to a climax! I couldn't wait to feel that amazing cockhead sliding back and
forth through my closed fist, feel that throbbing hardness of his shaft. He
spit copiously into the palm of his hand and made his cock glisten wet. I
paused for a second, startled by the action, but then, without even
replying to his question, I just wrapped my fingers lovingly round his cock
and took over where he left off. I stroked him with piston-like movements
of my hand. My own little cock began to pulse even more, and I wondered if
I dared reach down and wank. Better not, I thought. I returned to
concentrate on bringing my man lover all the pleasure I could. Robin leant
back against the wall and closed his eyes. A long sigh of pleasure escaped
from his lips.

"Do you like my cock, Jax?"

"Oh yesssss!"

"Is it big?"

"Oh yessss, it's very big!"

"Do you like big cocks, Jax?"

"Mmmmmmmmm"

"Kiss it."

"Wh-what??"

I was sure I had misheard him.

"Kiss it, kiss my cock, there, at the tip where the little slit is."

I moved closer and bent forward till the head of his cock was but an inch
from my face. Even in the gloom I could see some kind of fluid glistening
at the slit.

"Come on, DO IT!"

He grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth down on to his cock. He didn't need
to do that, I thought, suddenly apprehensive at this apparent show of
violence. But when he spoke again, the gentle tone of his voice reassured
me.

"Come on," he said coaxingly, "it's nice, you will like it."

I once heard my aunt telling my mother that I had a "rosebud" mouth, "more
like a girl's than a boy's," she had said. They didn't know I had heard
them, and they couldn't know the effect those words had on me, on my
psyche. As I pursed my lips to plant a clumsy kiss on Robin's swollen
glans, the words "rosebud mouth" came back to me.

"Good boy," he crooned, "open your lips, use your tongue on my slit. Can
you taste my precum? Does it taste nice?"

Another new word! I was learning fast. Whatever it was called, I was
intrigued by the taste of the fluid oozing from the little slit. Well, it
was almost tasteless, and to this day I have never really found words to
describe that subtle blend of tastes. Later, when I was alone in my bed
wanking gently as I went over and over the wonderful session with Robin in
that smelly abandoned gents toilet, it wasn't the taste so much as the
texture that I recalled: smooth, like yoghurt maybe, somehow oilier, but
that's not the word either. It was - and is - a magical fluid however we
describe it.

"Mmmmmmmmm"

"Come on, Jax, TELL me! Does it taste nice?"

"Yes, it's er......"

What is a thirteen-year-old supposed to say? Actions speak louder than
words, and I responded by opening my girlyboy mouth and allowing my lips to
slide down the velvety surface of his glans until they were wrapped over
the ridge. He WAS big, and I gagged even though his cock had not reached my
soft palate.

"Here, Jax, let me show you......"

He pulled me away from his cock, and for a moment I thought I had made him
angry. But in fact my mentor was being kind to his young pupil. He sat me
down on the seatless toilet, parted my legs as he knelt between them and
took my penis into his hand. I had had a throbbing erection all this time
and it was crying out for the relief which came very quickly now. He looked
up at me.

"It's all right, Jax, I am going to suck your cock. Would you like that?"

My mind went into orbit. Remember, I was a young kid from a protected
background, I knew nothing of such things. My reaction to the suggestion of
sucking a cock was Yuck! That's dirty!

But Robin began to do that dirty thing without waiting for my answer. It
WAS dirty. He was dirty, this place was dirty, and I was being dirty. And I
was loving it, every cocksucking cockloving dirty moment of it. The feeling
of his warm mouth and his wet lips sliding back and forth on my cock, the
flicking of his tongue round my foreskin - something which clearly
fascinated him - brought me to climax in next to no time. I tried to pull
away, but he kept his mouth clamped over me seemingly determined to swallow
every drop of my cum as it cannoned into his throat in short bursts. Like
gunfire. Like the cannons in war movies spewing fire and smoke as they
discharged their load. Like me now, discharging into a man's mouth. Feeling
faint, dizzy. Feeling dirty. Feeling good, Feeling proud.

I could tell that Robin was masturbating frenziedly now, desperate for his
own climax, excited beyond measure by the explosion of my boy-cum into his
mouth. That is what made me feel proud. That I could make a bigger boy, a
man, happy. I realised dimly at that moment that I had a special quality:
older boys and men found me attractive. That was my security, my passport
admitting me into a world that I no longer saw as dangerous, but as
exciting and fulfilling.

After a short burst of urgent strokes, Robin came too, leaning back and
pointing his cock upwards to allow his juices to arc across the little room
and splash on the floor and walls.

"Wow!"

How I admired the sheer quantity of his cum! How I envied his ability to
produce so much and to shoot it so spectacularly! Beads of sweat stood out
on his brow. He took out a crisp folded handkerchief whose pristine
whiteness contrasted with the sordidness of our surroundings.

"We'd better clean up, sweet boy," he said, patting me affectionately on
the knee.

He wiped me dry. The touch of his fingers as he did so caused another
thrill to ignite me.

"Again? Well, you are a horny boy, aren't you?"

He leant down and kissed my penis once more before wiping it dry. I loved
that he was so nice to me.

"Let me do yours, Robin." I was astonished at my own boldness. "Please!"

He handed me the handkerchief. I took his detumescent cock in the palm of
my right hand and dabbed him dry. My eyes were glued to the beauty of his
cock, even as it subsided into limpness. It was a holy moment, it was as if
I were worshipping his cock. Maybe I was. He ruffled my hair as I continued
my ministrations.

"Our secret, ok?"

I nodded.

"Wanna meet again, Jax?"

I looked up at him and again nodded. I looked round.

"Here?"

"No, Jax, we might be interrupted. Too many men use this place."

I stored that snipped of information away, determined to take it out later
and explore its implications. "too many men.....".  Men with lovely
cocks. Men who liked pretty boys like me. How could there ever be "too many
men"?!

We arranged a rendezvous for the following Saturday morning at a secluded
spot in the local park.

"You'll be there? Promise?"

I didn't need to promise. Wild horses couldn't keep me away from another
encounter with Robin, my Robin, my man lover.



Chapter 4: My "Sexurity" Man



I was still buzzing when I got home. I couldn't wait to get into bed and
relive the experiences of the evening. As I came through the door, my
mother was waiting, her fists on her hips and that look in her eye that
spelled trouble.

"What time do you call this?"

Poor mother, bringing me up single-handed can't have been easy for her. I
hated to upset her or make her angry. But how could I tell her about my
newfound ability to wank and ejaculate, my newfound joy that I could make
older boys feel good by holding and rubbing and even kissing their hard
cocks? How could I explain that I had just spent an amazing hour in a
disused public toilet with an older boy, who, I knew perfectly well, was
the kind of boy my mother would automatcically tell me not to play with?
Guilt plays strange tricks. Guilt became a component of all my sexual
adventures. It made me feel bad, wicked, perverted, but it also added to
the thrill. At this moment, I felt myself blushing. Surely my mother would
know just by looking at me that I had been doing bad things with an older
boy?

"S-sorry, mother, I w-w....." I couldn't think up a convincing lie.

"Oh, go on with you. Off to bed. You'll be the death of me."

Her tone was harsh but her eyes were soft. I ran to her and gave her a hug,
which she shrugged off in her usual way. She couldn't cope with displays of
affection.

"Another thing, young man...."

"Yes, mother?"

"There are some nasty stains on your sheets. What on earth have you been up
to?"

Of course she knew. And I knew that she knew. And she knew that I knew that
she knew. A fresh surge of guilt racked my body. I couldn't meet her
gaze. I mumbled some kind of

response: Dunno, mum. Sorry, mum - something like that. I never spilled cum
on my bedsheets again, except for wet dreams when I would wake up lying in
a warm pool of cum and panic. I dashed upstairs into the refuge of my bed
and immediately came erect again. I just kept going over and over the
evening's events with Robin, and how I had pleased him by loving his cock.

Despite the guilt, despite everything, I continued to masturbate every
chance I got. I LOVED my cock, I loved how it would get hard on its own, I
loved wrapping my fingers round its silky smooth shaft, I loved the
sensation of the foreskin sliding over the ridge of the helmet, I loved
that moment when the whole universe seemed to freeze and I would go rigid
just before the first surge of my orgasm would rage through my limbs and
the first wonderful spurt of cum would shoot from my penis. And I loved the
images in my head, feverish outtakes from an ongoing internal porn movie:
Dave's beautiful erection throbbing in the halflight, the boys in the
shower showing off their pubescent dicks, the bulging crotches of my screen
heroes, Robin's hand pulling mine on to his penis, the glorious nastiness
of the disused toilet, the moment when he pulled my mouth over his
glistening glans.........

Next day, sitting in my desk at school, my mind would wandered again and
again to the disused public lavatory with its graffiti-covered walls, the
seatless toilet, the stale smells that somehow stayed in my nostrils. And
my cock would start to quiver and swell till I was painfully hard again
inside my pants. I desperately wanted to take it out and toss off - I was
enjoying that newfound phrase - but didn't dare in case I was caught by the
teacher. There was a boy in my class called Caddy, a gangling youth nearly
a year older than me who sat at the back and was notorious for wanking
during lesson time. His cock was a notable organ, much bigger and fatter
than mine or those of my contemporaries. It reminded me of a horse's
cock. I didn't like Caddy, but I envied him his free spirit, he just pulled
it out whenever he felt like it and wanked.  Of course, he was finally
caught by one of the teachers and told to stay behind after class. We never
found out what his punishment was, but there were all sorts of wicked
rumours..... The teacher in question, "Dickie" Richards, was famous for
playing what we boys called "pocket billiards". Only much later did I
realise that this was a way of playing surreptitiously with your cock. The
rumours of course all centered on the notion the Dickie Richards was into
boys and that he had taken Caddy into the classroom annexe and had "had
sex" with him. I had little idea what "having sex" consisted of, and I
found it difficult to accept the concept of "fucking", with a boy's rectum
serving the purpose of a girl's cunt. I had eavesdropped on older boys'
conversations containing graphic descriptions of how they loved stuffing
their cocks into younger boys' anuses, so, once the idea took root in my
fertile brain, I added "fucking" to my repertoire of masturbatory
fantasies. I tried sliding a finger into my anus while I wanked, imagining
it was a cock. It felt quite nice, but I really couldn't believe that I
would ever be able to accommodate a fullsized throbbing cock. We live and
learn..........



Two evenings later, I was again hunched down in a cinema seat, cock in
hand. The movie was a Western. I love how the hero in cowboy films stand,
legs apart, groin thrust forward as if to suggest that their cock is
powerful a weapon as their gun. I could easily imagine his cock thrusting
straight out from his body aiming at its target just like his
six-shooter. Power. Menace. My whole body thrilled as I fantasized how I
would service each and every one of the Magnificent Seven and their
Magnificent Cocks! Specially Yul Brynner: I just knew that that bulge in
his tight cowboy pants concealed a big powerful cock that he would let me
fondle and rub and kiss and suck. And if he wanted to use me "like a girl",
I would straddle his cock and let him push it into me. Oh god, the thought
of that caused me to explode in a shower of cum that I only just managed to
catch in my handkerchief.

Restless, I decided to leave before the end. I had seen it a dozen times
before anyway. I made my way to the outbuilding where Robin had taken me. I
was fascinated to look more closely at all the graffiti there, but I also
had a longing to be back where I "belonged", in a public toilet frequented
by men looking for men, or maybe for willing boys like me!

What a mixture of messages and drawings!

I AM LOOKING FOR A BOY TO SUCK OFF

MEET ME HERE ANY WED AFTER 10

PLEASE FUCK ME IN MY BOYHOLE

MY COCK AND YOURS LETS DO IT

HAVE COCK WILL TRAVEL

As I read each message, as I studied the graphic pictures of cocks and
sucking and fucking, my ever-eager cock stirred again in my pants. Maybe I
could be the boy he wanted to suck off, maybe I could meet someone after 10
on Wednesday.....

A shadow fell across the wall. I turned to see a man in a uniform standing
at the entrance.

He looked at me for a moment and then went across to the urinal. I saw him
fumbling and then heard the splash of his urine hitting the ceramic. For
all my wild imaginings about "being the boy", I immediately panicked and
turned to leave.

"Wait."

His voice had the sort of authority that teachers had, the sort that you
obey without thinking. I froze in my tracks, my heart thumping in my chest.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, turning towards me. He still had his
cock in his hand and seemed in no hurry to put it away. It shone white in
the halflight, plump and meaty. I tried hard not to stare at it.

 "Nothing, sir."

"Nothing? I never yet met a boy who was doing "nothing". Specially here."

He moved to stand between me and the exit, blocking my escape. He began to
fondle his cock, lovingly. I could see that he was as proud of his as I was
of mine.

"You know what goes on here, boy?"

"Yes, sir. That is, no sir, well, I ........"

He gave a short dry laugh.

"Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. So, tell me, pretty boy, how's your
spout?"

Spout! What a word for it! Where did this guy come from? It was all I could
do to prevent myself from giggling.

"Er, my, er, spout, sir? I don't know what you m......."

"What are you burbling about, boy? Spout? Who said anything about spouts? I
said "How's your cock?" Your dick. Your penis."

I remained silent, finding it harder than ever to ignore his hand sliding
lovingly up and down the length of his cock.

"You play with your dick, don't you, boy? All you boys like to play with
themselves. Like I am doing now. Look, watch me. Come closer. It won't bite
you."

I watched fascinated as the man in uniform brought his cock to full
erection. He was uncut, like me. I was beginning to learn that no two cocks
are exactly alike. His was shorter than Dave's or Robin's, but fatter. And
it seemed unnaturally pale. As his fist pulled his foreskin over his glans,
I could see blue veins rippling along the shaft. I imagined tracing them
with the tip of my tongue. Another feverish image to add to my repertoire
of masturbatory fantasies.  I loved it. It reminded me of the marbled
sidewalls of our local church where I had been, until recently, a
choirboy. I loved too the way his helmet sort of dipped forward with each
upstroke of his fist, as if it was nodding at me in acknowledgement of my
close attention. It was a deep purple in contrast to the paleness of the
shaft of his cock and seemed to swell as he continued to massage it
lovingly.

"You like it, boy?"

His face was set and unsmiling, and he was panting a little, but his tone
was soft.

"Yes sir. It is......."

"It is what?"

"It's nice."

Not much of an adjective, but it seemed to please him.

"Ever seen a man's cock before?"

"No, sir," I lied. Lying was something I was getting better at!

"Would you like to touch it?"

"I think so....."

I faltered. What was I getting myself into this time?

"You know what wanking is, boy?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you wank?"

I didn't reply. This was getting serious. My cock was already on fire.

"Come on, why don't you show me? Then I will let you touch my cock, ok?"

A sudden terrible thought occurred to me. I had read about men being
arrested in public toilets for something called "gross indecency". I didn't
know what that was, but I was sure it had something to do with men "having
sex" with each other.

"Are you a policeman?"

I calculated that if I was quick, I could probably dodge past him and get
away before he arrested me.

The man laughed.

"Look, son. What does it say on my uniform?"

He pointed to the word embroidered on the arm of his jacket. SECURITY. I
know I was a dumb kid, but I can't believe now that I read the word as
SEXURITY. Some kind of job patrolling public toilets. I was right!

"I haven't done anything wrong," I bleated.

"Son, you're fine. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Come on, sweet
boy, let's have some fun. Here, hold my cock for me. You will like it, I
promise."

His friendly tone reassured me, and I did what I had so badly wanted to do
ever since he had asked me to watch him masturbating. I wrapped my fingers
round the shaft of his fat cock, barely able to make a fist it was so
thick. It felt wonderful!

"That's it, sweet boy. Now rub it for me. You know......"

"My name is Jack, sir"

"OK, Jaxer," he murmured, mishearing me. "Do it for me now!"

My own cock made a tent in my trousers as I worked on that delicious stubby
cock, my fist working up and down over the glans and back, gripping it
firmly and keeping a steady stroke the way Dave had taught me. I was in
heaven. I was giving a man pleasure, I was his pretty boy, I was small and
he was big, but somehow I felt in control, as if the power had passed to
me. I wrapped my free hand over my masturbating fist, wanting to give him
the maximum friction. His cock seemed bigger now, and I watched the first
glistening drops of precum oozing from the cute slit that winked at me like
an eye as his glans dipped and nodded in time to my strokes.

"You are good, Jax. Fucking hell!"

He was breathing heavily now, and could do no more than grunt out his words
of praise. I knew that he was getting close to the moment. The moment. The
wonderful moment. And I, Jax, was the one who would bring him off! My own
pubescent cock was aching, but that only served to spur me on, to make my
Sexurity Man happy.

"Faster! Faster now!"

I redoubled my efforts on his throbbing cock. I had managed to press myself
against his leg so that I could rub my cock against his knee to get some
relief. I made little fucking movements on his leg as I tossed him off. My
arms were beginning to ache but I didn't mind.  The oozing tip of his penis
was very close to my face now.

"Harder!"

He put one hand over my hands, so desperate was he for his climax. With his
other hand, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me down on to his
cock. Instinctively I parted my lips to cover the purple crown of his
glorious love-pole and flicked my tongue round and round. I could taste the
salty-vanilla of his precum. With each upstroke of my fist, covered now by
his insistent hand, my lips met my fingers.

"Now!!"

Oh god, the magic moment had arrived. A split second of total stillness,
poised, motionless, Then a juddering as his cock seemed to grow and stiffen
even more - how could that be? But it was so - and then, the wonderful
sensation under my fist as the first surge of his loving hot manjuice
pumped along the length of the shaft to explode in my mouth. I gagged as I
had done with Robin, but my man-lover didn't notice, he just continued to
hold my head down on his cock as he tried to thrust it deep into my mouth
with each surge of cum. There was no way I could swallow all of it, but I
tried to gulp down what I could. The rest trickled down my chin, a warm
glutinous flow that excited me almost as much as the sweet liquid that had
gone down my throat.

I was humping on his leg like a dog by this time, and I climaxed
spontaneously just as the last drops of his precious juices oozed from the
sides of my mouth. And he knew it.

"Fuck, boy, you are........"

He was too tired even to form the sentence. But I knew it was one of
praise. He hugged me to him, and stroked my hair before raising my face to
his.

"You came too, Jax, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Sorry, next time, I will be nice to you, do it for you too."

"That's ok, sir. I love your cock, sir."

He ruffled my hair.

"Sorry I didn't pull back before I....."

"No, I liked it. It was too much, that's all. But it tasted.....mmmmmmm."

He tucked his cock back in his pants and zipped up.

"Come on, son, better get you cleaned up."

To my utter amazement, he leant forward and placed his mouth on mine. And
began to lick his own cum off my face. And then kissed me again, only
longer this time. But men don't kiss boys, surely? Men kiss girls. They
don't kiss boys. Do they? My mind was in a turmoil, but I couldn't deny
that I was loving every moment of his mouth on mine, and the roughness of
his skin on my smooth hairless skin. Maybe for him, I WAS a kind of
girl. Another thought for me to store and explore that night as I lay
between the sheets, my cock pulsing in my hand as usual.

[to be continued]


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