From: at745@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Kael Goodman) Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica Subject: Kael's Diary, September 1983: "Save a Prayer", part one Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Date: 30 Jan 1996 03:56:55 GMT Organization: rec.arts.erotica immoderation Lines: 157 Message-ID: <4ek4u7$gf9@netaxs.com> Reply-To: at745@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Kael Goodman) NNTP-Posting-Host: unix5.netaxs.com Keywords: series m-solo X-Moderator-Review: 8: been there, done that, got the friction burns X-Ava-Review: 8: Kael Goodman meets the Holy Virgin Mary X-Approved-By: handler@sub-rosa.com (Michael Handler) Originator: grendel@unix5.netaxs.com Archive-name: kael.9.83-1 "Kael's Diary" is copyright 1994 Millennium Productions and is reprinted here by permission. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Title: Kael's Diary: September, 1983 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Kael's Diary: September, 1983 "Save a Prayer" part one Do you remember the first time you ever listened through a pair of feather-weight earphones? Walkman phones? I do. It was two years earlier, for sure, but I had only just gotten my own pair for my birthday two months previous and that fresh sensation of having Simon LeBon actually in the center of my head, singing -- it gave reality a sense of heightened importance. The music, so rich and over-produced back then, it seemed to reach from horizon to horizon. It didn't hurt to be standing on a pier in Maine, overlooking a large body of dark, peaceful water on a bright warm day in September, either. My hair hung heavily over my eyes and ears. I wore a light, long sleeved dress shirt, yellow, lapels a bit too wide for the fashion, but I was ingnorant of this. If it was good enough for my brother Max when he was fifteen, then it was okay by me. The fact that Max was fifteen in 1976 didn't make any difference, I didn't know any better. Corduroy slacks (burgundy) a wide striped tie and a pair of Keds All-Stars and a pair of sunglasses completed the ensemble. The whole Goodman clan was gathered here at this odd time of year to see one of my cousins get married. I and my family had been here, in Promise, Maine, earlier in the summer, almost two months before. Late July. Boy, had a lot of things happened since then. I was feeling strangly taller, and as though I were viewing the same familiar sights of my youth through a completely new set of eyes. Compulsive masturbation. Late July, muggy and damp, two parents, one brother and a few of his friends, and a pair of foreign exchange students, all crammed into one rented bungalow. Any time they all jumped into the Volvo to go somewhere I would hide or just tell them I wasn't interested. I was being such a little prick the whole vacation they didn't put up much of an argument. Once I was sure they were gone, I would slip upstairs to my room and strip down to my underwear, bought for a thirteen year old and worn holey. I'd lie on my front and twiddle with my penis, gripping it firmly with my fingers and briskly padding the tender underside with my thumb. I'd think of my girlfriend, Glenda, waiting for me at home -- she'd let me play with her breasts before I'd left, and even suck on them. They were so soft and not very small at all -- not as large as Becky's, my very first girlfriend's breasts, but her's were an exception in any young man's book. Becky's boobs were so big, and her skin was so fair, her nipples were so wide and light pink you couldn't really make out where they stopped and the rest of her gigundous breasts began. But Gelnda had long dark hair and dark, camel-like eyes. All my friends thought she was annoying as hell, but wow, did she know how to kiss. We had both taken Jesus into our hearts as our personal savior last winter and were both kinda scared at the things we let ourselves do with each other -- I pushed too hard sometimes, she was never very comfortable letting me touch her pussy, but neither was I. Jesus. Any thought of the Messiah during masturbation made me cold with guilt and fear, but I was too far along to stop and certain desires override fear anyway. Mom had constructed a make-shift sun shower out behind the cabin. It consisted of a long hose coiled up on the tar roof of the fishing shed with a shower nozzle at one end. The other end went into the shed to a sink, and if you stoppered up the nozzle and let the whole hose fill with water and let it just stay in the hose for an hour or so, there would be about three minutes of a steady trickle of hot water, forced out by cold water from the tap behind it. It was either that or a sponge bath out of the sink, and I was getting pretty concerned about some blackheads and tiny pimples developing on my chest and shoulders. Getting everything you wanted scrubbed in that three minutes could be quite an adventure, and particularly difficult when you were trying to wash your privates with your bathing suit on. That afternoon though, I looked around, each and every way, and felt a strange thrill run through my entire being. I was behind the house, everyone was in town, and I could hear anyone in the near distance. The way to other cabins was blocked by trees and a ramshackle garage. Before I could question it, I dropped my bathing suit to the grass and stood completely naked in the mid-summer sun. I grappled awkwardly with the hose and let it run all over me, splashing the sun heated water onto my smooth, hairless, adolescent chest and wet my longish greasy hair. Soap gathered in the nest of my pubic hair until I pushed it down over my soft, spongy, shriveled up penis. I kept glancing around nervously, the warm air, the sun on my behind and testicles and my exposed hips, it was so alien and I feared so much of getting caught. My penis began to stiffen a little at the thought. Then the cold water came and I made an all too brisk job of finishing. *** Still masturbating, I thought over my daring afternoon scrub. Barbara. Damn, I had loved her so much and she never felt that way about me. She had long dark hair and beautiful dark eyes. I had had a crush on her for three years, but we still just remained friends, although I wanted so much to be dating her. In my mind I stood outside, exposed and scared. Barbara walks around the corner, wearing that one piece bathing suit she always wears to the pool. She's seen me! She calls out in surprise and ridicule, I blush all over and reach down to hide myself. She just smiles and begins to pull down the straps of her suit (I begin to instinctively bounce my pelvis into the squeaky mattress) and my idea of what she looks like naked materializes in my head -- dark, bud-like nipples (I've seen them through her gym shirt) her tiny waist and broad, mature hips, a wispy puff of black pubic hair (it still frightened me) she walks over to hug me and kiss me under the trickling hose -- -- when someone else shows up! All of the other kids who stay here at the cove during the summer! They heard us and have stepped around the corner of the house! Everyone can see my penis, stiff in front of me, exposed and standing like some comical toy soldier -- oh, to be caught so aroused, it was mortifying -- -- and my hand jerks back and forth against my red and swollen cock, the other hand spontaneously massaging my thigh, as I feel the great tingle flash from deep within my balls, and great gooey spurts of cum shoot through its tender tube and splat against the inside of my underpants. My mouth is stuffed firmly into a pillow and I huff and chuff silently, withholding all external signs of pleasure from my face and head, just rocking up and back and panting, whimpering softly. My cheeks are flush, my left arm hand throbs. pulses in time with my heart. I roll over and stare up into the log-beamed ceiling. If no one comes back in ten minutes, I do it again. -- rec.arts.erotica, a moderated Usenet newsgroup for erotic fiction and verse submissions: * admin: FAQ: