Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2024 16:01:06 +0000 (UTC)
From: Harry Broom <harry.broom@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Karoo Christmas discovery 5

This is fiction and for adults. Don't read it if it is illegal to read it
where you live. Please donate generously to Nifty to keep the stories
coming.

Karoo Christmas Discovery 5

Jan speaks...

The first semester flew by, and I don't think I learned as much as I had in
my entire high school life. Joel and I were getting along well, and we were
very happy in our small residence. Joel and I were officially `going
out'. Joel had been brought up Orthodox but joined a local Progressive
Synagogue, and I joined him at Shabbat services on Friday nights. He had
given me a beautifully decorated yarmulka as a gift which I wore proudly. I
enjoyed the service and felt very welcome, particularly since there were
several other gay couples at the synagogue. I quickly learned how the
liturgy was structured and enjoyed the way the rabbi integrated the
readings with contemporary issues. The meal after the Friday service was a
bonus and we got to know a lot of other members of the Shul.

I reflected a lot on how I as an Afrikaner, an Afrikaans-speaking Dutch
Reformed kid was finding his was through a different world. Joel and I had
never been to a gay club before, and a mutual friend, Sam, agreed to take
us with him one Saturday night.

As I stepped into the pulsating lights of the nightclub, the thumping bass
reverberated through my chest, igniting a surge of energy within me. The
air was electric, charged with anticipation. A kaleidoscope of colours
danced across the dimly lit room and cast a glow on the crowd that filled
the space.

We worked our way through the throng of bodies, each person exuding their
unique aura of confidence and self-expression. The atmosphere was a little
intoxicating, a melting pot of identities and desires coming together. As
we made our way to the bar, I caught glimpses of flirtatious glances
exchanged between strangers, and the air was thick with a sense of
possibility. The bartender greeted us with a warm smile, and we ordered our
drinks.

We lost ourselves in the rhythm of the music, and let it carry us away on a
wave of euphoria. Every beat seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of my
heart, and for a moment, I was lost in another world. As the night wore on,
the energy intensified, and we found ourselves in conversations with
strangers.

As the early hours of the morning beckoned, we left the noise of the
club. There was silence as we stepped out into the cool fresh night air. I
carried the memory of connection and uncertainty. We both unsure about the
experience, and to be honest, I found it disconcerting. I was relieved when
Joel told me that he didn't think he'd be going back to Club Pink very
soon.

We took a quick shower when we got home, dried ourselves and climbed into
our bed. We had moved our beds together to make a double bed. I was on my
back and Joel started sucking my toes and slowly worked himself up my legs
until he got to my balls which he played with in his mouth. He then took my
dick head into his soft mouth and in time swallowed my entire dick. I
pushed him off and I began kissing his eyes, nose, and ears tenderly. My
tongue slipped into his mouth, and I moved down to suck his nipples. He
squirmed and I made my way down to his beautiful dick and moved my mouth up
and down his shaft.

I asked Joel to fuck me. I had never been fucked and wanted him in me. He
had some coconut oil and got it out the cupboard while I lay on my back
waiting for him, slowly playing with my dick. Joel was on his knees in
front of me as he oiled his dick, he then used his finger to open my hole
and smeared it with coconut oil. The room smelled like a tropical beach as
he brought his dick to my hole. My legs were on his shoulders, and he
pushed his dick in. I knew it would be sore and it was. The books I had
read said that I had to push out, so I did. Joel kept asking me if I was
okay and I told him to keep pushing. It felt like a knife cutting through,
but then he was in. He moved his hips and found a rhythm as I tried to
relax. It was a mixture of pleasure and pain for me. As Joel began
breathing faster, I felt him come in my arse.

He collapsed onto me, lay on my stomach and kissed me. I pushed him off
because it was getting hard to breathe. He went down on his knees and
sucked my dick. It wasn't long until I came into his mouth. We lay next to
each other and kissed. I tasted my cum and I felt very close to Joel, I had
his cum in me. We played with each other's flaccid dicks and fell asleep in
each other's arms.

My parents did not take too many holidays when I was growing up because of
the pressures of farming, but when they did go on holiday we always went to
Storms River in the southern Cape. The camp is located along the rocky
beachfront and is part of a national park. There is a famous hanging bridge
over the Storms River, and it is the starting point of many hiking
trails. Joel was keen to discover the spot for himself and he agreed to
drive us there for a four-day stay over our first break. He had debated
returning home to Wepener but decided that he would rather spend the time
with me.

After driving through some forests we reached the entry gate, paid the fee,
and drove down a driveway with spectacular views of the ocean below. I had
managed to secure a chalet on the beachfront and the sound of the waves
breaking on the rocks reminded me of my childhood. The sound of seagulls,
African oystercatchers, and the smell of sea salt also took me back in
time. We unpacked our baggage and the groceries we had brought, and we went
for a walk on the beach. The rocks were hard on our bare feet, and we
searched for the sandy beach for respite. The rock pools were teaming with
life and Joel said that it was the best thing he had ever seen. It was a
very romantic moment as the sun went down, there was a reddish colour over
the ocean, and the warmth of Joel's hand in mine was comforting. He turned
to me a kissed me.

The smallness of the shower was the only downside in our chalet, and it was
far too tiny for the two of us to use at the same time. So, we took
separate showers and had supper on the veranda watching the moon rise over
the ocean.

Joel speaks...

Jan and I ended up talking about masturbation and when we both started. I
told him that Pieter, the Dutch Reformed Minister's son had shown me how to
masturbate. I was just about to turn eleven. He was thirteen and we were in
the barn on our farm. We were in our shorts playing wrestling on an old
double bed mattress. We were out of breath, and he was sitting on top of me
and I had a hard-on, I noticed that his dick was also tenting in his
shorts. Pieter rolled off me and slipped his hand into my shorts and
unexpectantly grabbed my erect dick. I let out a little yelp and he guided
my hand to his dick, I never anticipated any of this and I formed a little
fist around his dick. I had just started to get pubic hair, but he already
had a dense little bush above his dick. Pieter began to wank me and told me
this was called "draadtrek" (masturbation). It felt good and he told me to
keep doing it to him too. My body began to tremble, and my balls tightened,
and I got an incredibly warm feeling (my first dry orgasm) Pieter's dick
stiffened and he said "Ek kom' (I'm coming) and he shot cum onto his
stomach. It was incredible and it was the first of many encounters between
Pieter and me. The only problem I had was the incredible guilt that I lived
with in my teen years.

I understood better what I was going through when I read a story on Nifty
called "The magnitude of guilt". I loved the story because it said so much
about my own Jewish experience, and I read it to Jan:

"I am David. Not my real name. I have been struggling with masturbation
since I was ten. Not that kind of struggle! I know how to do it, and I'm
good at it. This struggle comes from my family's deeply religious orthodox
beliefs, my problem is that I can't understand why something that feels so
good and natural can be so wrong.

Many years ago, my dad asked the rabbi he was close with whether he had
discussed wet dreams with his son when he experienced puberty. He said,
"Not yet." When he asked again a few years later, after his son had
physically matured, he said, "No, it just never came up."

Giving a boy zero information about why his sheets are sometimes sticky is
a recipe for confusion, shame, and guilt. How can it be right to keep
truths about human biology a secret from young boys just because we feel
uncomfortable?

My dad said that maintaining secrecy must lead boys to think that these
challenges only affect a few people, but that wasn't true. The solution my
dad gave me was to overcome the urges through willpower.

I have never told my father that I lack the willpower that he thinks I have
since then. I masturbate in the shower every night and feel guilty
afterward. I have searched the web for years looking for answers and I took
heart from one Quora answer about masturbation in Yeshivas:

"In my yeshivah, they'd say if you don't wear flip-flops in the shower you
might get pregnant."

Another person answered: "I remember it being hard to find a bathroom
around 7 pm in my yeshiva dorm."

I wondered if this is true. I also wonder what percentage of boys spend the
entire time thinking that they are the only ones. My mind drifted off to
the many yeshivas in Jerusalem with their students sitting for hours
diligently studying and reflecting. The yeshiva is a rare survivor in the
twenty-first century and cannot easily be taken for granted. For all its
shortcomings and insularity, the traditions, and beliefs it nurtures do
give hope. They transmit a tradition, not only as an object of study but as
a vital and life-giving for communities.

It was sometime after my bar mitzvah when I attended a question-and-answer
session where a rabbi was asked how and when, if at all, a Jewish father
should talk to his sons about wet dreams and masturbation.

Before he could even answer a person interrupted him: "There are children
here!" The youngest boy in the room was two months shy of his bar mitzvah
and I couldn't think of no one else who needed this information more
urgently than a 12-year-old boy. Then, in rabbinical style, the rabbi said
he didn't know and would probably ask his rabbi when his children grew
older.

The typical answer I have received over the years has been something like
this: "The fact that you are asking this question shows that you have a
deep religious feeling. The beginning of teshuvah is a feeling that what I
have done is wrong.

To do better you must look and see what it is that made you sin and try not
to put yourself in the same situation again. For example, if you live alone
maybe find a good male roommate."

Now that I am older, I have had more world experience, I found out that
Catholics have the same taboos around masturbation and that Catholic boys
live with the same guilt that we do. Hindu and Muslim boys also live in
guilt, but when Muslim boys succumb to their needs it is seen as a lesser
evil and they seek forgiveness.

So how do I manage? I hate feeling so damn guilty and fearful every time I
do it. The way I always rationalise is that:

It isn't directly addressed in the Torah despite being such a "horrible
sin"?

Why the heck would we be designed to do it so easily?

I am not married and therefore how am I wasting seed if there is no wife
around to potentially impregnate?

Plus, our bodies regenerate sperm our whole life. It makes no sense that it
would hold such value worthy of being equated to murder. Also, sperm does
not contain souls, only DNA. My understanding is when a baby is formed from
the womb, the soul is then planted by G-d.

I put my flip-flops on and got into the shower. The warm jet of water felt
good on my back, I closed my eyes turned my head up, and washed my face. I
massaged the shower gel across my shoulders and onto my chest. I washed my
arse and cleaned out my hole using the gel. I lifted my legs and washed my
thighs and my calves.

My dick grew harder as I massaged my body and I washed under my balls. I
washed my shaft and was careful not to soap into my piss slit. My dick was
upright, parallel to my stomach when I started to wank. I felt an
incredible sensation building up and my body trembled, and I held onto the
wall for a moment as ropes of cum splashed onto the shower glass. I was
breathing faster, and I felt my heart beating in my ears. An incredible
sensation.

But I then experienced `la petite mort' (the little death), that feeling of
post-orgasmic guilt as my religious ideas swirled in my head reinforcing
the feelings of guilt. I turned off the shower, dried myself off, wrapped
the damp towel around me, and went to my room. I dropped the towel and
stood looking at my body in the mirror for a second and wondered what would
become of me. I used some tissue to dry off some remaining drops of cum on
my dick before I put my undies on.' "

Jan thought the story was brilliant, and he said that it also helped him to
understand a lot of the emotions he had.

Jan speaks...

That night I got to fuck Joel, who was a little more experienced than I
was. I had brought some lube and spread the lube in his arse and on my
dick. My dick went in easily and he didn't seem to moan, I could feel my
balls against his arse and that was cool. I found my rhythm quickly and my
dick moved in and out while I used my one hand to wank him. It wasn't long
before I shot off in his arse and he shot his load onto my chest.