Date: Wed, 16 Oct 2019 14:07:12 +0000 (UTC) From: Terence Wade Subject: Jacking with Jon - part 1 (young friends) The first part of this story is absolutely true; only the names have been changed. Future parts will enter the realms of fiction and fantasy. My best friend Jon was the first boy in our year to grow pubic hair. Early in September in Year 7, standing next to Jon at the urinals in the PE changing rooms, I glanced over as we relieved ourselves, and there it was: a wiry black nest above his penis. I was totally unprepared for it. I knew, of course, that eventually pubes would sprout and our slender, small penises would expand into hairy dangling dicks. But it was only our first month at secondary school! Just a few months earlier, we'd been little boys who pulled our pants down and waggled our little willies at each other for a laugh. Now Jon had a pubic bush like a teenager -- like a man! I reassured myself that he was the oldest boy in our year, he'd already turned 12. Surely by my birthday in December, I'd have some curly black pubes to match Jon's. But my birthday and then Christmas came and went, and I still had the body of what now looked to me like a 10-year-old By Easter, Jon was no longer the only boy with pubic hair. Two or three others now proudly displayed their sprouting patches in the swimming pool changing rooms -- but I still had nothing to show. This isn't fair! I thought. When will I get my pubic hair? I eyed Jon's lithe swimmer's body enviously. He and I had been the same height all through primary school; now, he was several inches taller than me, his limbs sinewy, his nipples puffy. His cock -- for that's what it was now -- dangled between his legs, easily three times the size of mine, with a long shaft and a plump, round head. His pubic bush kept thickening while mine had yet to sprout. By spring, his legs were sporting a coat of black hairs but mine were still as bare as my crotch. His voice was husky while mine sounded like a girl's. I had discovered masturbation -- my penis was hard as a rock most of the time, it seemed -- but of course I couldn't cum yet. When I lay in bed, rubbing my small erection, I wondered what it would be like to wank with Jon's thick cock. I imagined his cum squirting out -- I'd read that semen was white and smelt of chlorine, but I'd never seen it. Jon lived 40 minutes away by car -- at least a two-hour journey by public transport -- as we lived opposite directions from the private school we attended. So we couldn't often go round each other's houses. And anyway, I didn't often have friends round because of my mum's insomnia and sensitivity to noise. But that summer, with his 13th birthday was approaching, Jon came to my house for a sleepover, our first in over a year. It was a hot August night; even with my bedroom window open, it was sultry. I yearned to get a longer, closer look at Jon's manly body than the fleeting glimpses I managed in the changing rooms. We lay next to each other on my bed, whispering and giggling, in matching white briefs and I hoped Jon didn't notice me staring at his pink nipples, his muscular flat stomach, and especially the plump bulge of his cock. He certainly didn't mention it -- in fact, it's to Jon's credit that the physical differences between us remained unspoken. He had ample opportunity to take the mick out of my prepubescent physique but he was too kind to do it -- maybe even to think of it. The next morning, Jon got up before me, and, standing just next to the bed, pulled down his briefs unselfconsciously to reveal his partially-erect cock. It was glorious. Still engorged with the remnants of morning glory, it hovered in the air, waving slightly from side-to-side. A fat blue vein ran the length, the head was an appetising round mushroom. His pubic bush was full and luxuriant, and his balls were plump in a round sac. I stared, spellbound. This was a man's cock. I imagined wrapping my fingers around the shaft, feeling it stiffen and rise to its full height. I ached to see cum spurt out of the wide piss slit. Jon bent over to rummage through his rucksack, his wobbling thick dick just inches from my face. Finding a fresh pair of briefs, he slipped them on and his dick disappeared. Was that a faint trail of hair leading from the waistband to his belly button? I snapped out of my reverie and felt myself blush. But if Jon saw me staring, he was, as usual, too polite (or too embarrassed?) to mention it. A new academic year soon began, and by my 13th birthday, in December, my first tufts of black pubic hair had finally appeared, as had those of most of our classmates. Boys' conversations around school changed to girls and tits, porn and wanking, and sex, sex, sex as our cocks doubled then trebled in size and our squeaky voices deepened. It was around Easter that I first ejaculated. I remember being in my bedroom on a lazy weekend afternoon, standing by my bed and watching myself in the mirror. I'd gone from being embarrassed of my little willy to thrilled by my huge hard-on, admiring it in the mirror whenever I got the chance. This time, when I reached orgasm, a blob of milky white cum appeared at the tip of my dick. I could scarcely believe it! I stared at the drop, amazed, for several minutes before I wiped it up with a tissue. I could be a father! I was a man now! After that, I masturbated at least twice a day, morning and night, and often in the afternoons after school. In my fantasies, I imagined the bare breasts of the prettiest girls at school, but my fantasies nearly always turned to Jon -- and his cock. Since last summer, all my sleepovers had been with friends who were younger, their willies still bald and diminutive. I was proud to show off my hairy crotch to them, but I wanted to see Jon's manly cock and body, I wanted to show him much I'd caught up to him, and I was nearly desperate to watch him stroke his big, thick cock. I had to get him to masturbate with me, somehow.