Date: Wed, 24 Sep 2003 19:32:21 -0700 From: dude sweet Subject: 1780 I want to write about one of the mysteries of life that has recently been revealed to me. But first, a little bit of background. My name is John, I am 13, and I share a bed with my two brothers, Charles and Tom who are 10 and 8. My sisters are Abigail who is 15 and Susanna who is 12 and already taller than me! Most nights sharing a bed is not a problem, except when you can hear the cannons and guns from the war with the British. It is kind of scary; and on those nights Tom usually wets the bed. Since I'm in the middle, I get wet too. I hate being in the middle. We're not allowed to say anything about it, under severe penalty from our momma, but it's uncomfortable waking up wet. And it's not just on war nights. Often when it just thunderstorms and lightnings and thunders all night, he wets the bed then too. Well my momma says he will outgrow it. I just hope is sooner rather than later. When he wets a little, it's not to bad, but most of the times I have to put on a new shirt in the morning, which means my mom or sister has more clothes to wash which makes more work for everybody. I don't do the washing. My morning chores are feeding and milking the cows. It's the worst job there is and takes way longer than just gathering the eggs, which is Charles' job. But since I'm the oldest boy, it's my job. The really scary nights are when our daddy is gone away on important political business. Then my momma gets all emotional and scared. But the good thing is, Tom and Susanna sometimes sleeps with her on those nights, so I am guaranteed to wake up in a dry bed. It was on a night when daddy was gone; Tom was sleeping with momma and it was just me and Charles in our bed. It was a very scary night, because we could here the cannons most of the night. Charles would snuggle up close to me, and it comforted me as well to be close Charles woke up, practically on top of me. "What's that stick in your shirt?" he asks. His leg was over my thing, which was hard like a stick. It started getting like that lately, I don't know why. "It's not a stick. It's my thing," I explain to him. "No. It's way bigger than your thing. And it's hard. Your thing is not like that." "Shhhhh, it's my thing. Ok?" He reaches his hand up my shirt and touches my hard thing. "What's wrong with your thing?" he asks. "Shhhh, I don't know. It just gets like that sometimes. Leave it alone." I didn't want him touching it, in case it was contagious or some weird disease. I wish my daddy was here. He must have told my momma, because after chores and breakfast, before school, she asked me to wait for a minute. "Charles said that he thinks something is wrong with you down there. Are you well?" "Yes, it's fine momma." And it was fine. It was back to its normal size and everything. "Are you sure?" "Yes momma, I'm sure." "Well be sure and talk to your daddy about it when he gets home." "Ok momma, I will." That weekend, when we were taking our baths I noticed that she made a point to be around when it was my turn. I was old enough now, where I washed myself, but I guess she wanted to make sure that I was ok. I was. It looked normal. Well normal for the last six months when I began to get some hair around my thing. A fascination for me and Charles, but nobody else seemed to notice or care. Also, Charles make it a point to look at my thing too. At least Tom didn't care. Washing Tom is almost like taking another bath, because he splashes around and makes a lot of mess. After we are all in bed, Charles says, "It's back to normal now?" "Yes." He puts his hand under my shirt and on it. It starts to get big, so I quickly push his hand away. "Don't," I complain. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing. Just don't touch it." "Why not." "Because then it will get big again." "Why." "I don't know!" And I turn face down so he can't touch it again. But he doesn't need to touch it. It's hard and big again. I have a lot of trouble falling asleep, because my thing keeps hard and drawing my attention to it. I hear that everybody is asleep, and still I toss and turn. It feels good when I touch it, but then that only makes it harder. I hate being in the middle, when there are bodies of both sides of you. Finally, I fall asleep. And wake up wet. But it's not from Tom; it's from me! But it's not pee. It's something like pus from a blister that came out of my thing. Now I'm scared and worried. It's only a few drops, so I don't have to change my shirt; but I'm so scared that I tell my momma about it after breakfast when we are alone for a few minutes. "Momma, something's wrong with my thing. Some pus or something came out of it last night when I was sleeping." She looks at me in the face and smiles. "Don't worry about it Little John." She calls me that sometimes because my daddy is also named John. "It just means your growing up. Be sure and talk to your daddy about it when he comes home. Nothing for you to worry about. Ok?" Normal? Good. But what is it? Well my mom is a major worrier, but if she's not worried, then I'm not worried. I go on to school, unworried. It gets hard almost every night now, and also in the morning. But no more pus stuff comes out for the next two days. My daddy finally arrives home! After dinner, he takes me outside for a short walk. "John, you are beginning manhood now. That stuff that sometimes comes out of your penis is seed. To make babies. When you get older you will use that seed for your wife to make a baby." Seed? That pus is seed? That doesn't make much sense. And I need to save it for when I'm married? That doesn't make much sense either. Well he can tell I'm confused and launches into a much more detailed explanation about making babies. Wow. That's how he and momma made us? Sounds weird, but him talking about it makes my thing hard. He notices that my trousers are sticking out down there and says, "And that's normal too. Just a sign of growing up. No need to worry about it. It will part of your life from now on." Well, if he wasn't worried and my momma wasn't worried, I sure wasn't going to worry. I mean there's enough stuff to worry about anyway; like chores and school. Oh yeah, and the war too. After school the next day, Charles makes it a point to walk with me when nobody else is around. "Did you talk to your dad about your thing? Is it ok?" "Yes, I talked to him. It's normal. It's supposed to be that way when you turn into a man." I feel more like a man, knowing this stuff. "You're not turning into a man. Even Susanna is bigger than you. And your voice still sounds like moms, not dads." "I am so turning into a man. I have hair down there and I can make baby seed now and my thing gets hard like it's supposed to." "It's supposed to do that?" "Yeah. Yours will too." He grabs his thing. "Mine is a stick now too." "Well you're not turning into a man yet. You have to have hair and make seed. Like I do," I say, pretending more expertise than I have. That night, in bed, he reaches over me and under my shirt and grabs my thing. As he holds it, it gets big. He continues to hold it. It feels really, really good, so I don't say anything. I guess we both fall asleep with him holding it like a broom stick. In the morning, he's not holding it, but sometime at night, a few more drops of seed came out of it. When I'm milking one of the cows that morning, I realize how the cows' teat is like my thing. I stop milking, pull open my trousers, and look at my hard thing. I squeeze it. It feels good. I pretend it's a teat and start to milk it. It feels real good. Suddenly I fall off the stool as seed dribbles out of my thing, onto my hand. I am breathing like I had run all the way home from school and my thing feels so very, very good. Wow. This is great. I put it away and finish my chores. And every morning, while I'm out milking the cows, I also milk my thing to make seed. Three days later, Charles comes into the barn, exactly when I am milking my thing. I see him, but my thing is about to make seed, so I cannot stop. My seed comes on my hand as he goes, "Wow!" Yeah, wow! "That's seed," I say proudly holding my hand up for his inspection. He looks. "How did you make it?" "I milk my thing, like I was milking the cow." I put it away. "Will mine do that?" "No, you're not a man yet." He pulls it out. It's hard like a stick. I had never seen his thing when it was hard before. Its way bigger than when I see him in the bath, or getting dressed. He gives it a few experimental squeezes. I ignore him as I go back to my cow milking job. He stops his thing milking, and keeps me company as I finish my chores. That night in bed he holds my hard thing as we fall asleep again. In the morning, he gets up when I do and follows me into the barn. I start to milk the cows. "Are you going to do it? When are you going to do it?" I act very worldly. "Now, I guess." I pull my trousers down, my shirt up and sit back on the stool. I begin milking my thing, uh, my penis. Daddy walks in! I don't know if this is a bad thing or what, but I quickly put my hard penis away and begin to button up my trousers. My dad looks at me, then at Charles. He says, "Just don't do that around Tommy or the girls. Ok, Little John?" "Yes sir." "Very well." He walks out. He said not to do it around Tom or the girls. I guess that means it's ok to do it now, with Charles around. I pull it out and begin milking it again. After my seed drips out, I once again show it to Charles. This time he smells it. I smell it too. Smells different, but not to weird. The next morning, Charles joins me in my milking chores and pulls his thing out and milks it, as I milk mine. He is disappointed that he can't make seed yet, but seems to enjoy trying. A big storm comes in the night and lots of thunder and lighting. As he snuggles up with me, he puts his hand under my shirt and on my penis. It grows hard and he gently milks it for me. It feels so good. He continues, until I push his hand away as my seed comes out. He pulls his hand up to his face to smell my seed. I reach over and go under his shirt. His thing is already hard like a small stick. I squeeze him until I get tired and go to sleep. I love sleeping in the middle. That was the first great mystery of life revealed to me!