Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2018 17:09:47 +0000 (UTC) From: brad rent Subject: Wilson Goes to Camp, Installment 1 Wilson Goes to Camp This is a fictional story of one man's entry into the `world of the penis.' It'll probably end up at about 20 chapters, even though I've only written 7 so far. I cum multiple times while writing each chapter, so the pages are probably a little sticky. I invite feedback at brad_rent at yahoo dot com. Chapter 1- The Awakening My name is Wilson. I was born in California and lived there with my mom and dad until I was 10 and my little sister was 7. When my parents divorced that year, my mom moved my sister and me to Florida to be closer to her parents. I'm now 38 and have lived in Florida for 28 years. My sexual journey began early—before I was 5—and, like every other guy, covered the gamut from self `abuse' to exploration with childhood friends, to petting and sex in high school and college, to marriage. In fact, I'm married to a wonderful woman who I love and have sex with regularly. I love my wife and family dearly—I've never cheated on her with another woman—but my early experiences created a craving for cock that has me always on the prowl for non-emotional, man-to-man experiences that I'll try to explain here. Men in general, and I in particular, have created and nurtured a special bond with other men that cannot be explained in polite societal terms. Simply put, men love to masturbate—alone or with others—and exploring that urge in all its forms is healthy and satisfying, especially for me. I have created strong bonds with coworkers, family members, fellow travelers and complete strangers in settings from cruise ships to gymnasiums to nude beaches to theaters; and on buses, trains, planes and in automobiles. I wouldn't trade any of those experiences for gold and I remember each one fondly. Remembering some gets me hard, even as I sit here typing this. Sometimes this masturbatory exploration led to activities that some would regard as beyond just jacking off, but in all cases, whatever `kinky' things I did were all extensions of my masturbation fetish, whether that was mutual masturbation, sucking cock, frottage, or even fucking—all were extensions or variations on my masturbation fixation. From a very early age, I remember getting pleasure from being naked and playing with my genitals, butt-hole and nipples. I can recall clearly that during `nap-time' I loved to take off my underwear, get hard and have `orgasms'—albeit dry ones—while humping my blanket or pillow. I imagined being locked in wrestling holds with unknown—and equally naked—opponents or in passionate embraces with notional lovers. I know I was younger than 5 when these events occurred because I vividly remember the layout of the house, and my room in particular, that we moved away from before I entered first grade. That sexual experimentation continued for the next 5 years with neighborhood friends and school mates, often while wrestling on the lawn, playing in my room, pretending in a tree house or messing around in the woods near my house. As far as I knew, all my friends loved to play with and compare our cocks and balls and we did so whenever we thought we could get away with it. I remembered wondering when my orgasms would produce cum, something I read about in the occasional dog-eared fuck books we somehow got our hands on and read constantly—I knew all about cumming; I just hadn't done it yet. About the time I moved to Florida, things changed. Looking back, I don't know if I changed because it was just my time—I was entering puberty a little earlier than my friends—or if not having a man around the house anymore or just the new environment in Florida, or whatever, but change I did. As I said, I'd always gotten pleasure being naked and playing with my cock and balls, but before we moved, my little pee-pee stayed small and thin, even when rock hard it was only about 3-4 inches and about as big around as my thumb is now; my nuts stayed small like little grapes; and when I rubbed my dick and squeezed my little balls, the sensation was marvelous, but still nothing came out when I had an orgasm. The `dry heaves' were heavenly, however, and I tried to make them happen as often as possible. I even did it with friends occasionally. Feeling another cock and smooth nut sack—and having someone else handle mine—was the very best; me and my friends did it a lot. Then, all of a sudden about the time we moved—or maybe a few months later, I became aware that things were changing in a big way. My dick started lengthening and getting thicker, both when I was soft and when I got hard. My balls started getting fatter, too, and thin brown hairs started to grow around the base of my cock. Even my scrotum started growing its own crop of short brown hair. I loved to explore the changes in my body and it seems like within a month or two of moving, I was sporting true man junk! I guess other guys noticed too when I was at a urinal or wherever, because I started overhearing mumbled comments about the size of my penis from groups of my friends as well as perfect strangers. One time I went into our junior high boys' room to piss. I should have noticed the 2 or 3 other boys that were loitering by the sinks when I went in, but I had to pee real badly and didn't pay much attention to them. I no sooner had my dick out with the stream splashing against the back of the urinal, when someone grabbed both my arms, pinned them together behind my back, then spun me around the room, playing `sprinkler' with my pee shooting everywhere. Big whoop for them, I guess. Their giggling changed to abject stares when they saw my big—at least to them—cock as it sprayed pee all over the bathroom. I don't think it is that much bigger than other guys now, but it sure looked giant to them since I'd gotten my `man-dick' before they got theirs. They released me after a few seconds and ran out of the bathroom snickering, but I continued to hear comments for the rest of the year about my big cock. About that same time, watery white stuff started squirting out the end of my penis when I came and it wouldn't stop spewing for what seemed like minutes! I didn't have a dad around to ask about any of this—not that I probably would have anyway—so I turned to my best friend, Dougie. He and I had jacked off together a few times but not for a while, so he looked at me like I was crazy when I told him my dick and balls were changing. Whenever we played `show me yours and I'll show you mine' before, his little pee-pee was the same size as mine and his little grape-sized balls looked and felt just like mine, too. We would help each other reach orgasm, but, like I said, nothing ever came out. Since I was ahead of him in the puberty race, I thought he should see what I was talking about, so I showed him by pulling out my dick and balls one day after school while messing around in my room. He stared round-eyed, made some excuse about having piano lessons or something, and hastily left. There I was with my burgeoning cock out—I couldn't get it back in my jeans. I learned pretty quickly that if I made it cum, it softened enough to get it back in my pants, but I was invariably left with quite a mess to clean up. Squirting in the toilet worked pretty well, but it hurt to bend it down that far (its natural angle was straight up against my stomach, the tip now somewhere near my navel and pointing straight to heaven), and all the jets of goo didn't make it down into the water. When I did force it straight out, some shot out with such force that they'd splatter against the back of the toilet bowl and send drops up onto and over the rim and some down onto the floor. I had to clean them up with toilet paper and sometimes there was such a mess that I even used the whole roll. Bending it down like that took some effort. That's when I discovered some relief by using a cum rag! Not only did I not have to bend it down when I shot my goo, I could wrap that old washcloth around the tip and all the jizz would stay put—no fuss, no muss! That worked until about the third time in a day that I had to use it. The rag would fill up, making using it for second or third collections a gross, wet mess. The cold gob in the middle of the rag made it completely unusable. Then there was the problem of washing said cum rag. I think mom probably noticed whenever I put the crunchy, smelly rag in the wash, but she never said anything. Bless her heart. After each washday, there was my faded old washcloth on top of all my other folded laundry. I suspected that Mom probably knew as much about my masturbatory habits as I did—boy was I surprised a few years later when I learned the full extent of her knowledge about my masturbating. Anyway, back to my blather about my early days. Whenever I beat off, I usually was thinking of a familiar shapely woman—all the neighborhood girls had Barbie dolls. Whenever Dougie and I found one or two `abandoned' and lying on a table or floor someplace after some neighborhood girl had been playing, we undressed her and put her in lewd poses with equally naked Ken, her friend, Skipper, her dog, or with another naked Barbie, giggle and run away—always with good-sized boners, of course. Anyway, when I came, I was thinking about shooting all that cum somewhere on a woman with big tits like Barbie's. I guess it took a few conversations with Dougie (his dad was a fountain of knowledge) and discovery of a "Playboy" or two before we realized that all that semen was supposed to go INTO that big-titted woman somehow. Early "Playboy" pics didn't show cunts, so the `how' of getting spooge inside a woman was still a mystery to us. Further examination of Barbie held no answers... her `receiver parts' were absent. Speaking of Dougie's dad, my earlier comment about him being a fountain of knowledge was a joke. All he ever said to Dougie was "Son, it's only natural for you to want to touch yourself and all but you really ought to wait until marriage to explore any further." Big help. We were on our own. Anyway, after a few months of masturbatory bliss, wondering what it might feel like to shoot my goo inside someone, Dougie asked me out of the blue, "could I see your dick again? I think mine's changing too and I want to make sure we're in the same boat." I was glad to whip mine out once again—and it was instantly hard—but was amazed when he pulled his out. Not only had Dougie caught up with me in the Puberty Races, but had surpassed me by a mile in the past few months! His dick was about an inch longer than mine and lots thicker, too. When he pulled his ball sack out of his underwear, I was even more stunned. My balls had grown to about walnut size—I was very proud—but his were now the size of golf balls! He let me heft them and they felt enormous! I guess I felt `em for too long, as after about my third squeeze, he shot cum 3 feet in the air and got it all over my bedspread, rug and—worse still—my hand! Needless to say, every chance we got after that, we were in my room rubbing crotches, pulling out our dicks and shooting cum all over the place. That lasted for about a year. Dougie moved away during the summer before 7th grade started and I was really on my own now. I had jacked off with other friends before Dougie, but that was when we had little skinny cocks and grape-sized balls. I didn't know if any of the other guys had `grown up' yet or not. As a result, I became consumed with the need to masturbate—anywhere and anytime, it seems. I'd get boners on the bus on the way to school, boners walking to my class (I'd walk with my books covering up my crotch), boners in my classes, boners at lunch, and boners at football practice. I especially liked the feeling of my jock strap on my bulge—it made me feel like I was squeezing my dick and balls with every movement of my legs. Boners were especially troublesome, however, in the shower room after practice. It became routine for me to swell up to at least half hard just stripping off my jock strap and releasing my stuff. The coach made everybody shower since he'd had too many complaints about smelly boys coming home after practice. I had various ploys for avoiding ridicule from the other guys. Usually I hung around until the last possible moment to file into the changing room, even helping the trainers and assistant coaches unload the gear from the trailer and putting it away in a storage room. Once in the changing room, I tried to find the most remote aisle or corner to change in, even if it was nowhere near my locker. When the coach yelled for the stragglers to "get their asses in the shower already," I tried to get in and out as quickly as possible, but invariably, SCHAWING would go my cock as soon as the air touched it. I was mortified by the catcalls the other players would make at the other unfortunate few that ventured into the showers at the busier times and sprang boners in full view of the showering team. "Look at Johnny, you guys... he's got a boner!... and what do you know, he's got pubes too!!" The humiliation and embarrassment must have been horrendous, as many times these guys just wouldn't come back again for any more practices. The coach tried to keep order by shouting down the teasers, but invariably someone would get pointed out, ridiculed, towel snapped, and embarrassed. I knew that if I could get in and out of the shower quickly, I could get my underwear back on (I absolutely HAD to wear `tightie-whities,' since boxers just wouldn't have provided any restraint or concealment whatsoever!), I could at least partially hide my rampant cock from the few remaining boys still hanging around the shower room. I did notice after about halfway through the season that I wasn't the only one with that problem and that most of those with a hard-on problem like me lingered until the last. As it ends up, the few of us left at the end began enjoying being able to shower with other boned-up guys and not only did we avoid ridicule, but actually sort of enjoyed looking around and comparing our junk—it seems all of these `late showerers' had grown man-dicks like mine. That's when I met Artie. Artie was also advancing ahead of contemporaries in the dick department. His boner rivaled my dearly departed Dougie's equipment and although he also didn't want to get ridiculed by the other guys (obviously since he hung around `til they'd left like me and a few others), he was proud to show his meat off to the rest of us `admirers.' It wasn't long before he, me and a few others would actually stroke our hard, throbbing cocks in the showers and show off our fattening balls. Once I even caught a coach peeking around from near the lockers into the shower area while squeezing his own package through his gym shorts. I guess it was arousing even for an old (thirty-something!) coach. Now that I'm older, I should have realized at the time that he probably went back into his office and jacked off! Anyway, one day Artie asked me where I lived and whether I wanted to get together to study sometime, since we had a few of the same classes together. The first couple of `study sessions' led to prodding each other's rampant cocks through our jeans. It wasn't until about the third time that I got enough courage to pull out my own through the zipper and stroke it in front of Artie. It wasn't long before he did the same and soon, we were spewing cum all over his bed and each other! Just like the `Dougie Days!' This became a regular thing and Artie became my confidant, experimenter, and dick buddy. I don't think it was a gay thing at the time—I didn't ever think messing around with each other would lead to anything romantic or lasting; it just felt good and we learned a lot about each other's differences. To begin with, Artie wasn't circumcised like me, and I was fascinated looking at his foreskin as it encased his very bulbous glans. When he was fully hard, it pulled back a little and I could see his piss slit and about half of the tip clearly. When he skinned it back, it revealed the flared head of his reddened cockhead. Usually by the time we got to the point where he'd skin it back, pre cum had made everything wet, slick and shiny. I loved the way that felt and enjoyed smearing his pre all around his and my own cockhead. About that time, I started producing pre-cum as well and Artie seemed to enjoy swiping mine out of the tip of my cock and wiping it on his own. One day, he asked me if I'd ever tasted it—I'd tasted my own but never his. We had a tasting competition and discovered both were salty but his was a little sweeter than mine. We progressed to tasting each other's cum—just a drop at first, but that was about as far as we ever went. I never tried to suck his cock, and although I enjoyed holding his fat ball sack when he came—and he mine—we never ventured any farther down toward each other's chods—that netherland between the scrotum and the asshole—or butt-holes. I do remember admiring his very round, girlish butt-cheeks and the way his pants sat on the `shelf' of his ass, but I don't think I ever even touched his magnificent butt—my loss, I guess. About this time, Artie moved away as well, and I was back to jacking off myself without a partner. I was saved shortly thereafter, however, when at about this time, my mom met and married a swell guy—also divorced--named Marty. He had custody of his 15-year-old son, Brian, and when they moved in, Brian became the big brother I never had as well as my best friend. Brian and I took up where Artie and I left off. It wasn't long before we were masturbating together in our shared room just about any time of the day. We both woke up with boners and enjoyed jacking them until coming just about every morning. We even had contests to see who could come the fastest or shoot the farthest if we awoke at the same time. Once I woke up and caught him standing over my bed jacking his dick while watching me sleep with my own raging boner. It was very liberating to have Brian living with me—way better than sneaking around like Artie and I had to before that. Within a very short time, Brian introduced me to what he called `frottage'—rubbing our dicks together without hands until we came on each other's cocks and stomachs. I quickly matriculated to getting my degree at an early age in cock-sucking, deep-throating and swallowing entire cum-loads straight from the piss-hole. I learned to love the taste of his jizz as well as my own and I noticed that the taste would change depending on what we'd eaten the day before. Brian also introduced ass play into our bate sessions. He asked me to put my finger against his butt-hole as he came and later, to run it up and in as far as it would go just as he started cumming. He seemed to go crazy when I did this, so I let him do it with me and I was hooked! We worked very hard on sucking each other and playing with each other's ass in a 69 position until we both came simultaneously. It didn't go smoothly at first—I usually came first—but before long, we were able to work each other up to orgasm at about the same time and it made cumming all the more pleasurable. "You've got the tightest little butt-hole, little bro," said Brian, adding, "we need to work on opening you up a little more so you can take things bigger than my finger... believe me, you'll like it when you can open up and take other toys and stuff up your ass." I didn't exactly know what he meant by `stuff', but I was game since butt-play added so much more to my orgasm during our bate sessions. There was an added bonus when Marty and Brian moved in as well. It was clear from the start that my step dad—Marty—and Brian had a pretty loose but close relationship that I envied right away. They were very comfortable with each other and seemed more physical than I'd ever seen a father and son before. Maybe that's natural in a home where a dad and son are the only ones left in the family, but in any case, it was pretty clear from all the wrestling and horsing around that each was comfortable with the physicality of their relationship. Another reason for their familiarity might have been that Marty was English, having moved to the states when he was in his early 20s, and had raised Brian, his son, as he had been raised in England. I always thought the English were pretty reserved, but Marty and Brian were gregarious extroverts that never hesitated to give a hug, squeeze an arm, give a `noogie' or slap almost anybody on the ass. Their including me in their `rambunctious-ness' was welcome, as I missed having a man around the house and eagerly embraced their outgoing and manly mannerisms—you know, all the `guy stuff' I'd been missing. This physicality in public carried over into the more private moments, as well. I remember the first week Brian was in our house—we shared a room since our house was pretty small—he had no reservations about being nude in front of me after showering or when getting dressed or undressed. He even slept nude and after a few weeks, convinced me to try it as well. I sleep naked to this day, thanks to Brian's influence. A couple of years later, my mom had to go help out when my grandmother got sick and, since it was summer and school was out, she took my sister with her across the state. That left just me, my stepdad and Brian to fend for ourselves for a couple of weeks. About the third day after mom left, I had just fallen asleep when Brian tapped me on the shoulder. "Shhh, wake up. Come see something cool." I swung out of bed, naked as usual and looked for my skivvies. "You don't need those—mom's gone, remember?" he whispered. I followed him out of our room into the darkened hallway, he in his `tightie-whities' and me naked as a jaybird. A faint glow from the living room grew brighter as we tiptoed down the hall. I peeked around the corner and saw that the TV was on. It took a second to realize that it wasn't just the news or something; a fuck flick was playing and some white guy was fucking a black chick IN HER ASS! I'd never seen a fuck movie before, let alone one with a big-titted black chick naked, let alone having a very large, wet dick slide in and out of her butthole! With every thrust that the on-screen fucker made, the black chick's tits jiggled and her face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. I was absolutely mesmerized. It took me a few seconds to realize that what Brian wanted me to see wasn't the flick or the actors fucking, but that his dad—my stepdad, Marty, was sitting on the couch opposite the TV, BARE BUTT NAKED! As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized that he was slowly jacking his dick full-length with both hands! His fat, hairy balls rose and fell with each long stroke. It looked like the thickest, longest cock I could ever imagine. His ball-sack was enormous as well. I was completely gob-struck! As the years passed, I realized that his junk wasn't all that huge, but at the time, it was way bigger than any dick I'd ever seen—even Dougie's or Artie's. I was so mesmerized that Brian had to pull me down out of sight when Marty startled, thinking he'd heard something, and paused the vid. We ducked and tried to keep absolutely still—thank goodness he didn't get up and investigate as we would've caught us big time. Only when we heard the video start up again, did we venture another look around the corner. While we were ducked down cowering around the corner, I realized my cock was rock hard. A quick glance at Brian showed that he, too was as hard as I'd ever seen him with his underwear tented all the way up to there. The sounds in the living room resumed, indicating that Marty had resumed the video, although at a lower volume, we again peeked over the chair just in time to see Marty start to moan and shake while he built up to a pretty massive cum. Suddenly, he turned on his side and let go with one hand. He grabbed for a small plastic cup he had placed on the end table, and, with the head of his cock down inside the cup, pumped blast after blast of hot semen into the cup. He came so much that he had to level out the cup to try to contain it all, but some still slid down the side and hung for a second before splatting onto the rug. On some level, I wondered why he was cumming into a cup and not a rag or up onto his stomach and chest, but just then all I could do was stare at his giant spent cock all shiny in the light of the TV. We only spent another few minutes spying on him, but I watched long enough to learn two things: older guys didn't stop masturbating even after they get married, and Brian was way more comfortable watching his dad jack off than I expected him to be—it wasn't too much longer that I found out about the special bond between Brian and Marty and why Brian was so comfortable watching his dad beat off. As I laid down on my bed in the dark that night thinking about watching Marty stroking and cumming, I heard Brian softly moaning—I knew he was shooting a big load over there across the room. It only took about three strokes of my raging hard-on for the sperm to start flowing through my body. I shook and grunted as I shot rope after rope of steaming goo up onto my torso. It seemed the jizz just wouldn't stop squirting. As I came down to earth and my breathing steadied out, I came to the realization that that was the first time I'd cum without a thought of fucking or getting sucked buy a girl. My focus was exclusively on male ejaculation—Marty's, Brian's and then my own. This was the beginning of my male-centered masturbation addiction that continues today.