The story contains descriptions of sexual experimentation, encounters, and contact between consenting adolescent males. The story is loosely based upon my life growing up. Although a work of fiction it is loosely based on my life and the lives of those I love; therefore, the specific names, places, times, and dates have been altered to protect the innocent.

If you are not of legal age to read stories of this nature or are offended by the subject matter herein do not read any further.

Benton Boy's Club

Author Mr. Arousal

Chapter 1: BBBDC Initiation

The southern Illinois humidity was bearable that Sunday afternoon. The usual stench of farm animals, silage, and other rural odors hung in the air, but that was the essence of rural life. The homestead had been in the family for generations and been passed down one to the other. One could look out across the far-reaching landscape and sense the innocence and simplicity of country living in the Heartland of America. This was the summer I would begin to question many aspect and beliefs about my life and family, too. The futuristic fifties had now faded and given way to the decade of great change and conflict: conflict both domestic and global. Of course, none of those thoughts filled my head on that Sunday afternoon in June 1960.

My parent's and I had arrived at Grandpa Smith's farm around mid afternoon on Sunday. We had driven up from Fort Benning, Georgia; a tiring fourteen hours trip through Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and then into southern Illinois. The trip was about a six hundred miles of marathon driving through some really beautiful country; however, we had stopped in Tennessee. Dad had driven the entire way and needless to say we were all tired from the trip, but once we arrived on the farm we gotten our second wind visiting with family. Dad was scheduled to spend the afternoon on the farm, staying for dinner and visiting before departing on Monday morning for the airport in St. Louis.

Uncle Delbert would drive Dad to the airport on Monday so he could fly out to Panama for the Army school he was scheduled to attend the following week. Dad was heading to one of the toughest schools that the Army ran, Jungle Operations Training Course, at Fort Sherman. All together he would spend nine weeks at Fort Sherman; the first three weeks he was scheduled to go through the Jungle Operations Course, and then the rest of the time would be devoted to some more advanced and highly specialized types of training.

Although I hated to see my Dad leave I was excited about the opportunity to spend the summer on the farm with my cousins. I had visited and spent time on the farm in previous years as a child, but this summer would be different, we were all older now. I had become worldlier in the past couple of years, and felt certain sophistication thereof. I was sure that I would teach my cousins a few things about the finer points of life. I stood there on the front porch reflecting on the past and looking to the future, sipping cold lemonade with the adults, and feeling somewhat self-important that I was allowed to be part of their conversation. Even though I had added nothing to the discussion I stood there acting very sophisticated as I surveyed the surroundings. The old homestead came with all the charm of the era. There were a few subtle changes that had taken place since I last visited over two years previously, but for the most part the farm was as I remembered it.

My Grandmother had passed away a few years earlier, so after her death Grandpa persuaded my aunt and uncle to move onto the farm to help him run things. I think the request was made more out of loneliness than desperation, and there would be a sense of family continuity, too. Although the farm ownership remained in family hands Uncle Del, with Grandpa's blessing, had leased out most of the acreage after Grandpa retired from farming, and Uncle Del continued to work in Benton. Even though tillage and crops was now in the capable hands of others there was still enough acreage left for a family truck garden, and a few farm animals remained for appearance and need. My aunt and uncle moved out to the farm when my cousins were young, so the boys had known little but rural farm life from an early age. The family homestead came with all the allure of turn of the century architecture and rustic living, including one of those wonderful wrap around style porches.

To me the porch was the unique feature of the old farmhouse that always caught my attention. There was the large front portico and two narrow runways on each side of the house. On opposite ends of the front porch two swings hung from the ceiling. The porch was a focal point for socializing, a gathering place for family and friends. There was a weather beaten brown leather overstuff chair that clearly belonged to Grandpa Smith on the porch as well as other furniture. On one side was a table with a checkerboard set up to play and on the other was a couple of outdoors rocking chairs. The old homestead was the embodiment of the quintessential home of that era.

Finally, there was a lull in the excitement of conversation, so I asked my Aunt where my cousin's were. She apologized for ignoring me and told me that they were down at the creek fishing with a couple of the neighbor boys. She assured me they would be back at the house by 5 PM sharp; that was when dinner would be served, and if they weren't on time they missed the meal. I made myself comfortable and patiently awaited the return of my cousins from fishing with their friends.

Sure enough, a little while later, at about four-thirty in the afternoon, I heard the puffing sound of the old tractor coming up the wash behind the old red barn. The old tractor was at least 20 years old, but Grandpa Smith had maintained it well over the years. A few minutes later I saw the faded green and yellow John Deer Model H tractor, its big black rubber tires in the rear and two smaller ones that were close together in the front, appeared down by the barn. I could see from my vantage point on the porch that the tractor still looked pretty much the same as I remembered it from years past. Finally, it came to a stop disgorging four young boys off the back, all about the same age.

I excused myself bounding down the steps of the porch hurriedly making my way towards the group of boisterous boys down at the barn. They all were dressed in jeans and white T-shirts. I hadn't seen my cousins for a couple of years and they had grown quite a bit in those two years; however, I could still identify them. The older one, Adam, had developed into a handsomely well-built young teenager. The younger one, Perry, was still scrawny and kind of a gawky looking preteen, but I was happy to see them both. Of course, the two other boys were introduced, too. I found out that Rich, who was thirteen, was Adam's best friend, and Ralph, who was twelve, almost thirteen, was another friend of my cousin's.

I noticed right away that I was taller than Perry and Ralph, but not quite as tall as Adam or Rich. Perry was a lightweight, but Ralph was the chubby one of the four. I probably looked like the biggest dweeb of all standing among the group dressed in a colorful shirt, Bermuda shorts, and wearing penny loafers, but my dress didn't seem to bother them. We all hugged and playfully punched each other on the arms. We began telling each other how good it was to see each other and how good we all looked. Then it was time to visit and catch up on the past couple of years. We talked about all of the stuff that goes with meeting cousins you haven't seen for a while. This is also an exercise in sizing each other up. All of the boys were well tanned and moderately muscled for their ages, except for Perry. Adam was by far the most handsome hunk of the bunch with the most well defined body from what I could see underneath his Levis and white T-shirt. I sensed that I was going to enjoy spending the summer with my cousins and their friend's.

I learned that the other boys were in the same scout troop as my cousins and played little league baseball for the church, although they were on different teams. They all went to the same church and school, too. However, Adam and Rich would be attending a new school in the fall. Suddenly, there was a holler for us to come to the house. We hurriedly made are way up the path from the barn to the main house. My cousin's two friends broke away mid way up saying good-bye, heading down the earthen and gravel driveway towards the highway, and eventually onto their homes. I told Adam and Perry how lucky I was to be able to get to spend the entire summer with them, grabbing them around the shoulders hugging them to me.

We approached the main house and Aunt Lilly again hollered for us to get washed up for dinner. We all scrambled into the washroom on the back porch to clean up for dinner. Adam and Perry each pulled decent looking shirts off the clothesline to wear for dinner. The late afternoon meal would be taken in the formal dinning room as was normal for Sunday dinners and other formal family gatherings. We all sat down and Grandpa Smith said grace. Uncle Del and Grandpa began passing them vittles from opposite ends of the table. Everyone took big helpings of mashed potatoes, gravy, meat, and vegetables and passed them on; meanwhile, Aunt Lilly and Mom filled the glasses with iced tea. Once all the plates and glasses were filled it was time to dive and consume the evening meal. All was quiet around the big oak table as we devoured the sumptuous meal Aunt Lilly had so dutifully prepared for us.

We had cleaned our plates and were finishing our tea when my cousin's looked across the table at me with a wink and then requested to be excused; I followed suit. Aunt Lilly told us boys to unload the luggage from my parent's station wagon and bring Mom and Dad's things inside putting everything in the parlor for the time being. Dad spoke up and ordered us to leave his Army duffle bag in the vehicle, but to bring his "B-4" and garment bags inside. Aunt Lilly told her boys that I could take my stuff straight on down to the old bunkhouse after we finished unloading Mom and Dad's things.

My cousin's smiled at me with impish grins as we headed out to unload my parent's car. The station wagon was packed reminiscent of pictures that I had seen of the migration from Okalahoma to California in the 1930s, just a better looking vehicle. I had read "The Grapes of Wrath," by John Stienbeck; a novel of that tells the story of the migration from Oklahoma to the Promised Land in southern California. I couldn't help thinking how our family shared much of the same wandering ways of that era as was depicted in the book and film of the same name.

Behind the station wagon was an enclosed trailer with much of our belongings packed inside. The trailer would need to be parked in the barn, disconnected, and unloaded later. The luggage and boxes that were strapped onto the roof rack would have to be taken off and stored, too. The back of the station wagon was stuffed to the roof with our suitcases, clothing, and other personal belongings. On the last trip inside my older cousin, Adam, asked my Dad for the car keys, so he could park and disconnect the trailer, and then we could take care of the rest of the unloading chores. Once that was done we would drive the station wagon down the lane to the bunkhouse to unload my stuff. Dad looked curiously towards Uncle Del, whereby he nodded approvingly back to my Dad.

Dad tossed the car keys to Adam and ordered him not to hot-rod. Grandpa asked Adam to gas up the station wagon for tomorrow's trip before brining the vehicle back from the bunkhouse. We all replied with a snappy "Yes Sir" and headed out the door, Perry and I bounding down the steps after Adam. Most boys who lived on farms in rural America in that era new how to drive by the time they were twelve or thirteen; thirteen was the magic number to officially drive on the Smith farm. We all piled into Dad's vehicle and drove the short way over to the barn. Perry and I got out to guide Adam back into the barn. He didn't need any help; he backed the car into the barn like a pro, and then we disconnected the trailer.

The big enclosed trailer was an important part of our lives; it contained our life. We had hauled it around behind our vehicles from Army post to Army post; that was the way we moved. The trailer was very important because when we traveled it contained all of our personal property, including Dad's Indian motorcycle. But most importantly it contained my bicycle, BB gun, and my records and record player. The Daisy Red Ryder Model 94 was a gift from my Dad for my tenth birthday. The bike had been a Christmas gift. Both items were extremely important to my early development and independence; however, the record player and records would play an important part in defining my adolescent years. The trailer and its contents represented a certain amount of independence and security in my family's life.

The old trailer was one of my Dad's prides. My Dad, Uncle Del and a couple of other uncle's had built the trailer years ago from scratch. So, after disconnecting the trailer and securely chocking its wheels we stack the items from the roof rack next to the trailer, and then headed down the lane to an old bunkhouse. Once at the bunkhouse we got my bags and other personal items from the vehicle taking the stuff inside. Three trips in and out and there was all my junk piled in the middle of the floor of the old building. The place was in pretty good shape for an old time bunkhouse. I questioned the boys as to why they were staying in this house and not the big main house.

They told me that because there were only four bedrooms in the main house and one of them was Aunt Lilly's sewing and crafts room there would be more room for everyone using the bunkhouse. My aunt and uncle had decided that for the summer it would be more comfortable for all parties if the three of us boys lived in the bunkhouse, letting my Mom have their big dormitory bedroom that was upstairs in the main house. So, the boys had worked for two weeks prior to us arriving, thoroughly cleaning and putting a fresh coat of paint on the inside walls of the old bunkhouse, sprucing it up for summer living. They had also moved all their clothes and personal stuff into the old bunkhouse the week before and were well established by the time I arrived.

"It's gonna be cool livin in the bunkhouse without any parents around," Perry declared.

The explanation lessened the feeling of guilt on my part about the boys having to move out of their room and live in the old bunkhouse for the summer.

"We can be as fuckin loud and rowdy as we want, long as we don't burn the fuckin place down!" Perry exclaimed.

"Cool," I said.

I had never heard either of my cousin's use that kind of foul language before, but they had both grown up since the last time I saw them. The old bunkhouse would more than adequate to house the three of us and it was going to be neat for us to live on our own a far piece away from the adult supervision. The bunkhouse was one huge room with three sets of large bunk beds built in to each of three walls, built in chests of drawers at each end for each set of beds, a big table in the center, an old black and white television, and radio on a side table. There were a couple of old overstuff chairs, too. The furniture in the room, I guessed to be, all hand-me-downs. There was a nice bathroom with a huge shower and a kitchenette with stove and refrigerator. The refrigerator was stocked with sodas, chocolate milk, and other snack items. I thought, all in all not too bad a setup for three adolescent boys for a summer of independence.

Adam ordered, "Get your shit unpacked cuzzin and put it in the dresser over there," pointing to the chest of drawers on the east wall. "And if ya got anything that needs to be hung up there's hangers in the closet over there," pointing to the door between the kitchen entry and bathroom door.

Perry began dutifully helping me put my stuff away while Adam headed out the door to put gas in Dad's vehicle as Grandpa had requested. Perry and I began unpacking my things putting the small stuff away in the dresser and hanging the other stuff in the walk-in closet. Perry told me to take either the top or bottom bunk on the east wall of the room. I threw my pillow and sleeping bag on the bottom bunk spreading it out. I put my small portable radio on the table at the head of the bunk and plugged it into the outlet.

Adam returned saying, "We're supposed to go back up to the main house for desert, if ya want any, if not go to bed."

We all charged out the door, got back into my dad's station wagon, and drove the short distance back to the main house. Once there we all helped ourselves to huge dishes of delicious homemade cobbler with vanilla ice cream on top and washed it down with big glasses of milk. All of us boys asked to be excused as we pushed away from the table.

My Dad got up, poured a brandy, and walked out of the kitchen towards the front porch with us. On the way out he pulled me close to his side, hugging me, telling me to look after Mom while he was gone. He told me that barring no complications he would see Mom and me sometime in August, and hopefully we would be moving to Fort Campbell, Kentucky. He kissed me on the forehead and swatted me on the behind as he ordered me off to bed without any nonsense saying, "See you in the morning champ."

We all slowly shuffled down the lane towards the bunkhouse engaging in some playfully grab-ass and punching each other; meanwhile, I would look back over my shoulder every once in a while watching Dad, Uncle Del, and Grandpa light up their evening cigars and sip their drinks. The three of them would sit on the porch and talk until they finished their beverages and cigars, indulging in brandy or sipping whiskey was something older adults of that time enjoyed. Mom and Aunt Lilly would clean up the dishes and join them later. That was the way it was in the Heartland of America during those years of my youth and innocence. However, that would all change in the coming years.

For us boys once inside the bunkhouse we all got ready for bed and hit the hay with little fuss. I turned on my radio, tuned in a solid rock and roll station; while Adam turned off the light, and we all said goodnight. Oh, there was some boyish belching and farting and along with that came the usual giggling and snickering. Monday morning would be upon us all too soon. Before long we all were fast asleep dreaming of the new adventures that awaited us over that summer of enlightenment.

Monday morning:

Early the next morning I was startled awake by the blaring of the horn that was used to beckon all to breakfast. We all got out of bed, pissed, washed the sleep from our eyes, and dashed up the lane towards the main house. There on the porch stood my dad, standing straight and tall in his tan Tropical Worsted uniform, drinking a cup of coffee. The set of TW's he wore was adorned with all accouterment, badges, decorations, and rank insignia he was authorized. We all stopped dead in our tracks at the bottom of the steps and looked up at my dad in awe. I saluted him and he snapped a smart hand salute back in my direction.

"Let's eat!" Aunt Lilly hollered.

Everyone headed into the big dinning room and gathered around the oak table waiting to be seated. Once seated Grandpa gave grace; then he and Uncle Del began passing the biscuits, gravy, ham, scrambled eggs, and fried potatoes. There was also plenty of orange juice, milk, and coffee as well as warm cinnamon breakfast rolls to go around. All of us boys dove into them vittles and began devouring breakfast; breakfast on the farm was the big meal of the day, so you didn't want to miss out on it.

We finished breakfast with little fanfare; in fact, it was a quite morning, the air was heavy, and the attitude was somber. After we finished we all excused ourselves. Dad walked out with his "B-4" bag and stowed it in the rear of the vehicle along side his duffle bag. We all gathered around Dad's big powerful station wagon for our final hugs and good-byes. I asked Dad how come they were leaving so early since his flight wasn't until later in the afternoon.

Dad put his arm around my shoulder pulling me close telling me that they were going to stop by the cemetery to pay respects to deceased family members and Grandma. He told me to have a good time for the summer and try not to worry about him that he would be all right. All the adults got settled into the station wagon except Grandpa Smith. I went to the car window and kissed my Dad good-bye with a tear in my eye. The grown ups all drove off down the dusty driveway and turned onto the highway; we all waved until we lost sight of the vehicle.

Once the station wagon was out of sight my two cousins turned to me noticing my melancholy they tried to console me. Grandpa picked up on my sadness and told us we could make good use of the time that morning by unpacking the trailer. We would put Mom's personal items in the main house, my stuff in the bunkhouse, and repack the other stuff into the trailer for long-term storage. Adam went inside and got the keys to his Dad's pickup and we headed to the barn to hook up the trailer. We would tow it back up to the house and unload the stuff Mom would need for the summer. Then we would take the trailer down to the bunkhouse for me to unload my personal items. Once that was all done the trailer would be returned to the barn, repacked, and parked in the corner for the summer.

"All done fellows?" Grandpa Smith asked.

We acknowledge the fact that all was done and bid farewell to Grandpa. We shuffled down the lane towards the bunkhouse. Once inside I flopped down on my bunk in a funk. Shortly, the two boys from Sunday afternoon arrived in the bunkhouse. Of course, they wanted a brief history lesson from me, so I clued them in on my past, offering to kick their asses if they crossed me. That went over real big and the wrestling began.

Once we finished with wrestling and horseplay Adam wanted to know what I wanted to do for the rest of the day. I told them that I didn't have a clue, for them to lead the way, and I would follow. Little did I know then that those words would become my Achilles' Heel that summer. As far as my cousins were concerned that gave them carte blanche to do as they wished with me, and it would haunt me for the rest of the time with them? With those words I had thereby formally submitted to them and their sinister wishes and desires. We decided to go swimming, so we grabbed some cold sodas out of the fridge and headed out towards the old swimming hole.

Once down at the creek the boys shed their Levis, T-shirts, and underwear, and were naked in lightening speed. I just stood there in total amazement. Adam turned to face me and ask, "You swim cuzzin?"

"Yeah!" I exclaimed.

"Cool, what ya waitin for?" Adam said casually.

"Don't have my swimming trunks with me. Forgot `em, gotta go back to the bunkhouse an get `em," I said a little embarrassed.

Adam laughed saying, "Who needs fuckin swimmin trunks man; we all go skinny dippin down here."

I stood there staring in awe of my older cousin's conspicuously naked body; I was not used to seeing a bunch of guys naked. I tired not to be too conspicuous eyeing the boy's naked crotches. Adam was well tanned and well built, all over. His physical attributes in the reproductive area were well developed for thirteen years old, too. He had a slight trail of dark hair running from his navel down to a small patch of pubic hair at the base of his penis. His acorn-sized testicles had dropped into a brown wrinkled scrotal sac. His penis was bigger than Perry and me; maybe about three inches long soft, and like Perry and me he was circumcised, too. I thought he was generally well endowed for a young teenager, but who was I to judge I hadn't seen that many other naked boys.

Perry was standing there naked too, but his body and build plus the other physical attributes were pathetic compared to his older brother and the other two boys present. Rich looked good in the buff and both boys were circumcised with some pubic hair. I had never been around boys who were so open and immodest before. At Fort Benning we swam at the pool on post wearing swim trunks, so I had never been skinny dipping before.

I finally stripped down, a little embarrassed at first, but jumped into the water along with everyone else. Damn, that water was cold and the low temperature shrunk my weenie immediately. The temperature didn't seem to bother the others and the two dogs that had accompanied us to the swimming hole. After some playful grab-ass and swimming we all got out of the water and lay down on the bank of the creek to soak up some summer sun. The dogs headed off to forage and play on their own. We popped the caps off our sodas and lay there in the nude with our heads and upper bodies propped, our heads resting on our hands with elbows dug into the sand.

We started to discuss cars, movies, music, our likes and dislikes. Of course, the conversation eventually turned to girls, sex, how big was my dick, did I jack off, and could I cum yet. Wow, I thought to myself, did I jack off and could I cum yet, that was a little brazen!

I could see that I was fast becoming the focal point of conversation and was becoming aroused by the conversation, too. From what I could observe the other boys were also in a state of arousal. I could see that Adam and Rich were definitely bigger than me; Ralph and I were about the same size, but Perry appeared to have the puniest pecker of all. Adam teased his little brother and told me that he couldn't cum yet. I felt sorry for Perry. I felt somewhat embarrassed by it all, but refused to give in and let it bother me. We got back into the water for a while for some more swimming, and then got out putting our clothes back on. We called for the dogs and headed off towards the old bunkhouse.

Once back at the bunkhouse Adam and Rich headed to the main house to check on Grandpa and tell him we were back from swimming so he wouldn't worry; meanwhile, Perry, Ralph, and I flopped down the bunks for a quick nap. I had been dreaming about Adam and his hard penis when I heard a voice through my subconscious exclaim, "Would ya all look at that little hard-on!"

My eyes immediately popped open and there were my cousins and their two friends standing over me admiring my cock. I'll never forget those impish smirks on their faces while they stood there staring at my erection that had found its way out of the fly of my white boxers.

Adam looked at his brother and friends and said, "How big do you think that thing is?"

Damn, I had only been on the farm twenty-four hours and already these guys decided it was time to compare cocks to see who had the biggest, who could cum and who couldn't, what would be next? I would find out that summer that this was all part of growing up, and a big thing among adolescence boys was to determine who had the bigger equipment. For boys the size of one's equipment, it would appear, was one of the things that would define one's manhood, virility, and acceptance.

Acceptance and self-esteem was what size was really all about for boys. No self-respecting teen wanted to be known for his small genitals, because it was a widely accepted belief among teens, at that time, that one with a small penis was somehow a queer. And no self-respecting teenage boy wanted to be labeled as a fairy, fag, homo, or queer by others. Of course, we were unaware, at the time, of any research to indicate that gay males tended to be a little better endowed than their heterosexual counterparts. I had thought from earlier show and tell sessions at school recess that I was not small, but was not the biggest cock on the walk either.

I already knew that Perry, Ralph, and I were about the same size soft: about the size of our thumbs soft and breakfast sausages erect. As I look back I think Ralph's chubbiness disguised his size somewhat. Perry was not yet into puberty, so that was reason for his small size. So, it was decided to get out the ruler to see who measured up exactly, and who didn't. In fact, it was decided that the five of us would start the big dick club that summer.

The Benton Boy's Big Dick Club or BBBDC as it would be known was officially thereafter begun. The five of us would be the charter members of the club and any other new members would have to be voted in by a consensus. I had been appointed the club's secretary, so it was my job to draw up the constitution and by-laws thereof. The first article in the constitution of the BBBDC would be that it was a secret society. We would all swear oaths of secrecy and would tell no one outside the membership about what went on in our club or reveal any personal information about any member. Second we would meet officially once a month thereafter to measure and post the results thereof in the journal. We would all be identified by code names, so in the event the journal fell into the wrong hands no one would know what it was about or be able to identify any of us.

The charter officers were chosen by name and size. Adam was the oldest, by two months, and he was one of the better-endowed members; therefore, he would be the president of the club. Rich would be the vice president, Ralph would be the treasurer, and I would be the secretary. My job had nothing to do with age or size, I could just write well. My job would be to verify measurements and log those measurements in the journal. I felt sorry for Perry that he had been left out and was not chosen to be one of the officers in the club.

I knew that Adam was sure to measure up and he did; five inches long and one and half inches thick, and Rich measured in about the same. They were longer than Perry by two inches and Ralph and me by an inch. Adam was also about twice as thick as Perry. I was a little bigger than Perry and my cock was much better looking, according to Adam, and the other two boys seconded that. I kind of felt sorry for Perry being the puniest of all of us. The only thing that remained was administering the oath of secrecy. We all pricked our fingers and signed the oath in blood, crossed our hearts, and hooked little fingers for the pinkies swear.

Once the ceremonial measuring task and blood oath was out of the way it was onto to more important club business, the first circle jerk. We all settled back on the bunks and began to caress and fondle our cocks. I knew only one way to masturbate; it was called the roll-off technique. I had learned the roll-off technique from one of my classmates in school at Fort Benning during school recess. The roll-off was where one uses both hands, places the erect penis between the palms of the hands, and begins to roll the penis back and forth between the palms.

I continued rolling my meat between my hands, and soon began to feel that tingling sensation start to build in my right foot and it began to travel up my leg. My body shook a little and I exploded with a low intensity orgasm. About the same time I noticed Adam began to tense up and begin bucking and moaning as his penis spat forth a couple of whitish ropes of jizzum.

I was definitely impressed with the distance of the first shot. Then the other two boys let their ejaculate explode. Perry embarrassingly climaxed in a dry orgasm. We all were spent and lying on our backs recovering not saying much. Finally, Rich asked, "What do you call what you were doin with your pecker, man?"

"What ya mean man? I asked.

"You know rollin your meat between your hands. How come you don't beat off the way we all do it?" Rich asked.

"Don't know man, just the way I learned to do it back home." I said.

"Man, were gonna have to teach you how to do it the way we do it around here." Rich said with a little laugh.

The boys proceeded to instruct me in a couple new styles of masturbation, including the standard procedure using a clenched fist fingers wrapped around the penis shaft, thereby stroking it up, and down using lubricant or spit. The technique that I would find out was the most popular among boys. So, after we had all recovered sufficiently I put the new technique into practice immediately, and came again. I couldn't believe it; the first day of my summer vacation on the farm, and my first sexual encounter was with my cousins and their friends. I had been totally accepted into their inner circle, and was an officer in our new secret society.

What an education I received that day, and no better way to educate me as to the nuances of male bonding, sex, and sexual experiences in my world of naivete? Could things get any better for me during that summer of enlightenment? I hoped so.

Any comments on the story are welcome and may be addressed to: mrarousal2003@yahoo.com