Date: Fri, 11 Feb 2000 23:48:59 -0500 (EST)
From: royale-ity@webtv.net
Subject: I, Matt

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to a living person is
purely coincidental.  As usual, if you are under the legal age of
consent, please log off now.  To continue  is to venture at your own
risk.

They call me Matt; but it was Matthew when I was younger.  It's a good,
strong, masculine name of which I have always been proud.  This name, and
the gift of life, were the only things my parents were allowed to give to
me.  Unfortunately, they both perished in a fiery automobile accident on a
treacherous winter's night when I was a mere infant.  I have no distinct
memory of them other than two dog-eared snapshots circa 1953: one of my
then-18-year-old dad. hair slicked back, leather jacket over white tee, a
cigarette dangling from his lower lip and standing in his best James Dean
impersonation; the other of my mom in a wrap-around plaid skirt leaning
against an old Ford, looking very much like a young Natalie Wood.  The
photographs were taken two years before I was born, and less than a year
later they were gone.

From that moment on, I was shifted from relative to relative, from coast to
coast, never spending enough time in one place to grow any roots or develop
any lasting relationships.  Luckily, both my parents came from large
families so there was no shortage of homes for me to visit.  Usually, an
aunt would decide that the burden of another child in the household was too
much and I would be packed off to the next home.

Early on I knew that I was a good looking boy.  Women loved to pat my
silken hair or pinch my rosy cheeks.  One particularly nasty aunt often
commented on my resemblance to my deceased father, who, it seemed, was
not a favorite with the family.  My father seemed to have had a
reputation as a ladie's man.  I knew that I failed to follow in his
footsteps; the other boys in school were what interested me.

School was not a pleasant experience; when one relocates with rapidity
it is difficult to become acclimated.  I was an average student, only
because I failed to apply myself, and had few friends.  The only bright
part of the day came for me after gym class.  That was when I got to
shower with the other guys, each of us casting furtive glances to
compare each other's equipment.  It was always a bit of a disappointment
for me, since none of the other boys had a bigger wiener than mine.  Yet
I continued to scope out my fellow classmates just as, I knew, they were
checking out me.

And then came that fateful day in the eighth grade.  We had finished
showering and the hall bells chimed the five minute warning between
classes.  Midway to dreary Science with Mr. Bad Breath Collins I
realized that I had left my book bag in the shower room.  Turning
quickly on my heel I raced back to the steamy room and located my bag.
There was no class this particular period, so the room was empty.    As
I turned to cross the room I saw a movement in the window which
separated the student's showers to the gym instructor's office.  I
peered closely through the mist, which soon parted to reveal Mr. West in
all his naked glory!  The teacher's office came equipped with separate
shower room (I guess the board of ed wouldn't go for an adult man
showering with the boys) and West had just emerged from that cubicle to
towel himself off in what he assumed was total privacy.  Little did he
know that he had caught the avid attention of a young student.

My widened eyes took in  the wide expanse of his shoulders, the beefy
flex of his biceps, the mass of hair that covered his chest and flowed
down over his protruding belly to explode in his groin, encasing his
manhood.  The penis was smaller than mine, although fatter and more
pronounced.  I was so captivated by my first sight of an adult man's
privates that I hadn't realized  there was an urgent stirring in my
pants.  As I became aware of the protrusion in my drawers, I became
frightened.  What if someone came into the shower room now and caught me
looking at Mr. West?  What if Mr. West looked up and saw me with my
penis poking up, threatening to explode out of my zipper?

West turned his back to the window and I seized the opportunity, dashing
from the room with one hand stuffed deeply in my pocket to conceal my
embarrassing state.  As I raced through the halls it began to deflate
and by the time I reached Collins' atom study I no longer needed hand in
pocket.  He looked at me over his spectacles and reminded me that I was
tardy.  No shit!  For the remainder of the day all I could think of was
the marvelous sight of Mr. West's hairy male body.  He became my
favorite teacher that year and I soon excelled at gym.

A month prior to graduation from the eighth grade, we were required to
attend a three-day class trip to Washington D.C.  My guardians balked at
coughing up the money required for the trip, but eventually gave in
after a telephone call from the school administrator.  It was a five
hour bus trip to D.C. and alot of the students were thrilled at seeing
the sights.  I, however, had been many places in my young life and was
less than interested.  After being checked into a chain hotel, we were
paired off into our foursomes.  Weeks ago teams had been selected for
the purpose of bunking down.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, Rod
Tyler had chosen me into his four-man group.

Rod was not the most popular boy in the eighth grade, nor was he
disliked.  He, like me, just "was".  Neither of us did anything to draw
attention to ourselves, although we participated fully in any
activities.  He was a fairly good-looking boy although, up until he
called my name, I had paid little attention to him.  The other two boys
had similar personalities, neither geeks nor school princes.  We seemed
to be a very well-matched group.

They days were spent on endless tours of the Capitol, Washington's
Monument, Arlington Cemetery, Mount Vernon, and various other historic
sites in the city.  We were all exhausted at the end of the day and
almost immediately fell off to sleep.  The second night, however, things
took an interesting turn.

Rod was the last to use the bathroom that night.  After his regimen of
brushing, flossing, and urinating, Rod came out in his pjs, slid under
the covers of the bed he shared with Jimmy 1, and flipped off the light.
A strong beam from the full moon cast itself across our beds.  We called
Rod's bed buddy Jimmy 1 because my partner was also named Jimmy.  Hence,
Jimmy 1 and Jimmy 2.

I had just started to nod off when a voice shot me back into
consciousness.  It was almost a whisper, closer to a sigh, and was
coming from the double bed next to me.  Turning my head to face that
direction I could detect movement from that area.  I squeezed my eyes
into tiny slits, attempting to peer through the moonlit room.  There
most definitely was motion from Rod and Jimmy 1's bed as the bedcovers
seemed to be rising and falling rhythmically.  At intervals, one or the
other of the boys made a low growling sound.  I had no idea what might
be going on between the two and, holding my breath, attempted to focus
my gaze so as to absorb more.

A sudden movement in my own bed took me momentarily away from my
perplexity.  Jimmy 2 had shifted in his sleep (or so I thought) and was
now resting very close to my right side.  I was about to turn back to
the other guy's bed when Jimmy 2's voice whispered to my ear, "Give me
your hand."

I was taken aback, first because I thought my partner was asleep and,
secondly at the odd request.  My lips parted to question him when Jimmy
whispered huskily (as huskily as a 13 year old can), "Just give me your
hand."

My young hand gingerly left its place from resting across my chest and
reached over and grazed Jimmy 2's left thigh.  Instantly his hand came
out to grasp mine in an overhand grip.  I started to pull back, but
Jimmy held me tight.  Failing to understand what was happening, I was
about to protest when my hand was pulled over and under Jimmy's pj's.
My fingers were buried in the warm, moist recesses of Jimmy 2's
underwear.

Everything was happening far too fast for me to comprehend.  Muffled
cries came from the next bed while I felt Jimmy 2's hot breath in my
ear, his hand gripping mine tighter, guiding it to his rigid penis.
Jimmy expertly shaped each of my five digits around his throbbing young
meat and held me tight against him.

"Rub it for me, man," he half-begged. half-ordered.

Swallowing hard, a thin coat of sweat instantly covering my body, I
swiftly considered my predicament.  Here I was, under the covers and
body to body with one of my classmates, my hand buried in his shorts,
his hard hot boy dick in my hand, while two of our other classmates were
occupying the same room.  And, least I fail to mention, my own wienie
was up and at attention.

"W-What if they catch us?" I asked.

Jimmy 2 chuckled and a voice came from the other bed.

"Whaddya think we're doin'!"

I froze.  Luckily J2's hand was still holding mine tightly to his hard
dick, or I would have ripped my hand out of his pants.  There was no
mistaking Rod's masculine voice, far too deep for his young age.  He had
overheard the exchange between us!

"Just jerk him, Matt," he continued. "We figured you'd like this.  Why
do you think we chose you?"

Speech failed me as I absorbed his last comment.  They had chosen me.
Out of all the other boys in the eighth grade, they had chosen ME.  Was
there something they had seen which gave them a clue I might be
interested in a little male bonding?  Had one of them noticed my pointed
glances in the shower rooms?  A silent fear crept through me suddenly as
I realized that this could also be some sort of trap.  They might be
luring me into a false sense of security only to announce to the rest of
the class tomorrow that I was queer.  What was I to do?

The question was answered for me almost immediately.  The boy-hand
grasping my own now- trembling hand began to move it up and down on his
blood-engorged erection.  My breath caught in my throat as I felt the
hardened length of his sheath slipping along my fingers and making love
to my palm.  All doubts quickly escaped as I reveled in my first contact
with another's penis.  As he quickly jerked my amateur wrist up and down
I memorized the smooth glorious feel of the dick, the velvety softness
around the rim of his mushroom, the heat radiating from J2's groin, the
rough texture of his boy- pubes, the sticky wetness which coated my hand
when we reached the top....

And then my hand began to move on its own accord.  On the upstroke I
stopped, resisting his downward pull.  Taking the head of his cock in
hand, I squeezed and felt the head grow larger.  Rubbing my palm over
the top, I traced a fingertip over his piss-slit and was rewarded with a
soft moan from J2, much like the one Rod had emitted earlier.  Playing
with J2's dick was the greatest thrill I had thus far received in my
young life.  I never wanted to let it go.

My last ministrations had produced more goo from J2s bad-boy and I
noticed that it slickened my palm and I more easily slid my fist down
his piece of meat.  Reaching the bottom, I dug my hand into his ball sac
and squeezed those orbs. J2 writhed beside me and moaned more loudly,
his lust cries almost matching the animal sounds from the Rod/J1 side of
the room.

"Bet you do this to yourself all the time,"  he breathed into my ear.

"Uh uh," I replied.  "Never done this before."

"Never touched your dick before?"  Rod responded incredulously from the
darkness.  "Teach him the ropes, Jimbo."

J2 needed no further encouragement.  His left arm crossed over my
pumping right and easily slid beneath the waistband of my pajamas and
into my fruit of the looms.  Taking my hard virgin pecker into his
experienced palm he began the five-fingered dance of love.  My breath
caught in my throat at the sensations J2 was bringing to my boy-meat
with his fervent fisting.  It felt as if every nerve ending in my body
was exposed and centered in my penis, and the classmate at my side was
teasing those sensitive nerves.  My body thrashed under the bedcovers,
yet I never lost hold of the hot dick in my hand.  In fact, I jerked his
johnson more furiously.

"You got an awful big one for a little guy," he said.

I merely grunted in the affirmative.  Conversation was the farthest
thing from my mind at the moment.  Instead, I reveled in the absolute
bliss of my first sexual encounter.  Something about the darkened room
gave an almost anonymous edge to what we were doing with each others
bodies.  If someone had flicked on the lights, I wonder if I would have
felt as comfortable.

Massaging his rigid meat in my hot little hand, I mentally tried to size
up his member.  There was no doubt that I had him outdistanced by
several inches; in fact, he was probably average in length, but it
surely felt good nonetheless.  Squeezing the hard shaft of his cock
produced an almost steady flow of sticky goo from his helmet, making the
path even slicker.  I pumped at a furious pace as J2s breathing became
more labored and his own fist worked my big fat dick simultaneously.

The mattress next to us began to squeak wildly as Rod and J1 thrashed
about in their own playtime.  I could detect their breathing becoming
shorter, almost like deep gasps, barely muffled by the rustling sheets.
Suddenly Rod emitted an animalistic growl, stifling J1's hoarse gasps
and the two seemed to convulse in the hotel bed.

Almost immediately, J2 began to moan and pant next to me, his head
rolling about on my shoulder, his hand continuing to piston-fuck my
dick.  His tongue smacked out at his lips and, with a manly groan, his
hips bucked wildly and his hard cock began to shoot liquid all over the
inside of his shorts.   Having never witnessed another's orgasm before,
let alone my own, I was enthralled by what had just happened.  Squeezing
the length of his hard shaft, I milked his cock for all it was worth.
When my hand came up and brushed across the sensitive head, J2's prone
body nearly shot up off the bed.

And then something brand new and thrilling began to happen to me.  My
big dick twitched and throbbed between J2's fingers as a tingling heat
seemed to rise up from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head.  My
entire body shook uncontrollably  and I grasped onto the sheets with my
free hand trying to steady myself.  But there was no control.  My head
shot from side to side....my back arched skyward.....my eyes rolled back
in their sockets....my teeth gnashed together....I gasped, groaned,
whimpered....and suddenly my virgin balls exploded and stream upon
stream of hot sticky jizz shot up and out of my prick, coating  J2's
pumping hand.

Twisting in the frenzy of orgasm, I rolled about on the bed, feebly
trying to escape J2's grasp.  Volleys of cum continued to erupt from my
young nutsac in burst after glorious burst.  J2's hot breath panted in
my  ear as his talented hand furiously beat me off.  After what seemed
like minutes, the pace began to slow and my breathing calmed to almost
normal.  Perspiration bathed my body and soaked the pillowcase.  My
angry cock was released by J2, who wiped his hand on my pjs and returned
to his side of the bed.

And then came whistles and cheers from Rod and J1, whom I had entirely
forgotten.  Slightly embarassed, I reached in my underwear to feel the
sticky wetness and caress my still-hard pecker.

Rod spoke in an amused tone, "Never gonna forget your eighth grade trip,
are ya, bud?"

No more was said and we all fell off into a deep sleep, mine filled with
visions of what the future held for these new-found friendships.  Fate,
however, held other things in store for me.  My current guardians
decided  they had done their good deed and, immediately after
graduation, I was packed off to another home in another state.  My
glorious sexual awakening was shattered.  Fantasies of summer camp with
Rod and the Jimmys was totally dashed!  I was on my own once again.

I never knew what became of the two Jimmys.  Secretly, I fantasize that
they hooked up and lived happily ever after in Jimmyworld.  As for Rod,
I met up with him unexpectedly some twenty-odd years later.  He had
joined the sevice after high school and commited his life to the
military----and he had become quite a hunk, as had I.  But that's
another story...