Date: Sat, 4 Feb 2023 17:29:54 +0000 (UTC) From: "wantstrat63@yahoo.com" Subject: Messing-Around Buddy Training - Chapter Two Messing-Around Buddy Training - Chapter Two Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction which features sexual activity between pre-teen boys and teenage boys. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, I'd recommend that you bail out right here. I'd love to hear from readers and I'll try to write back. My name is Zane. If you want to get in touch, please email me at wantstrat63@yahoo.com If you can, please support Nifty with a financial donation - whatever you can afford - so that this archive of stories can remain free and available. Just go to http://donate.nifty.org/ +++++++ In the previous chapter about my early life education, I told about the things that happened to me when I had not a clue about anything sexual, yet I was learning that there were some pretty happy surprises out there, even in my innocence. Let's back up a bit to one of my boyhood experiences that was entirely non-sexual but still involved my little penis. Just a warning, this part of my story is not for the squeamish, but if you like penises as much as me, you'll likely find it fascinating. Shortly after I was born, like countless other boys in the U.S. at the time, my foreskin and I parted ways. Apparently the doctor was not overzealous with his scalpel, and didn't stretch everything tight as a drum to make the cut. The result was, my circumcision is not what they call "high and tight." I have a slight, vestigial foreskin and with that looseness, I can be manipulated rather effectively without lubrication. All that future masturbatory convenience came however, with a caveat. A little boy with a vestigial foreskin still needed to be taught to skin it back and gently clean underneath it when bathing or showering. Unfortunately I missed that class. The records have been lost, but I was likely around 6 or 7 about the time I started to have a problem that no little boy wants to have to reveal to his mom. I had a sore dick. The remains of my foreskin had adhered to the corona of the glans of my penis and made a sort of pocket. Within this little sealed space was smegma, dead skin, soap and other nasties that had collected. That little sleeve circling around just below the head of my dick had become hard, red, and too uncomfortable to ignore. I wouldn't say it hurt. Rather it felt like a pimple that needed to pop. (I know, it's revolting). I couldn't tell my dad because he was working shifts at the time, so the day came for me to reveal my awful secret to my mom. No amount of embarrassing motherly remedies helped my little condition, so within a day or so, Mom took me for a drive to see the doctor. The office was unfamiliar to me and not my usual doc. I remember sitting in a little paneled waiting room alone with my mother and just before we were called in, another boy and his mom arrived and sat down to wait. The lady took us back to a room that had a paper-covered examination table with a bright overhead spotlight, a counter with medical stuff on it, and a chair for my mom to sit. The doctor came in and helped me up a step and onto the exam table. He seemed very kind and he had me lay back on the table. Then I started to become embarrassed as he unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down to just below my knees and then he pulled down my white underpants so he could check on my condition. As I looked up at the ceiling, I could feel the doc was examining me with his latex-gloved hands, manipulating me in a way that no doctor had up until that moment. The doctor motioned to the nurse and she came over to the table. Much to my surprise, she bent over me, grabbed onto my shoulders and held me down! Before I realized what was about to happen, I felt the doctor firmly grip the tip of my penis between his thumb and forefinger of one hand and in one swift motion of his other hand, he yanked down on my dick to rip open that little skin pocket! I'm sure the soundwaves of my screams are still rocketing out into the vast reaches of space, passing the outer planets of our solar system and headed out to the black void and distant galaxies. As I sobbed and my mom tried to console me, the doc cleaned the blood and corruption from my poor, injured peen. He instructed me about what I needed to do while bathing to prevent it from ever happening again. Then he slathered on some soothing ointment, pulled up my underpants and jeans, helped me down off the table and back out to the waiting room. As I stood while Mom paid for our visit, I noticed that the little boy waiting behind us was clutching his mom's arm and quietly whimpering. No doubt, the poor kid had clearly heard my screams as I felt my dick being yanked apart. I thought about telling him to run, but decided against it. Just one more feckless boy about to join the brotherhood of the "penis enlightened." To this day, I do as that doctor instructed and take special care to clean "where the sun don't shine" on my dick, (even during my high school P.E. days and times at scout camp when we washed in the gang-showers), but that's another story. My real education began when I was almost 11 and we moved to a new state about 150 miles away. I wasn't happy about that, having to make new friends and go to a new school. A slight advantage was that we'd moved to a new house in a development that was about half completed when we arrived, so every kid there was in the same boat. In those days, suburban developments went up fast, so by the end of the next year, all the houses were up. In the meantime there were lots of quests to be had by adventuresome boys, as we explored all the partially completed houses and found scraps of wood to build forts and treehouses in the woods that surrounded our neighborhood. One of the first friends I made was my buddy Jon. We got to know each other because we lived just a couple of blocks apart, and as fate would have it, we joined the same scout troop, of which the town had three. Jon and I were in 5th grade together, though he was almost a year older and a bit taller. As I would soon discover, he was quite a bit more physically mature and seemed to be very experienced in certain things. He had an older brother who was almost ready to go to college, so he didn't have much to do with us. Looking back, I wonder if Jon was so worldly because of things his big bro had shown him. My education with Jon started one spring day while we were climbing around inside a couple of newly-framed houses. They backed up to the woods and at one point Jon said, "Hey, let's go back in there... I have something you'll want to see." We went past some underbrush and about the time we were out of sight of the houses, we came upon a scrap of plywood on the ground, partly obscured by some bushes. Jon lifted it up and showed me his secret stash. It was the Holy Grail of preteen boys... A "Playboy" magazine! We sat down together and he started to turn the damp, well-worn pages for me to see. I remember two distinct changes in my body while we checked out all those boobies 'n asses together. First thing was I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears... it was very strange. And as Jon and I drooled over some of best naked female flesh Hugh Hefner had to offer, my boy peen stood up like a little soldier snapped to attention inside my jeans. I had to lean forward to conceal my arousal from Jon. My throbbing boy dick was so stiff it seemed like it would burst. I became aware of a change in me that seemed driven by my hairless little boner... a sort of cloudiness in my brain that skewed my thoughts. I was feeling some kind of urgent need that I didn't understand and it was the strangest sensation. I did my best to shake it off and focus on the wonders that old "Playboy" had to reveal to me. The front of my jeans mostly concealed my three inch erection, poking me in my smooth lower belly as I bent over and gawked at all those naked ladies. By the time Jon and I paged to the centerfold, a realization came out of the blue and struck me like a bright light. In all my innocence, I had never quite made the connection in my pea-brain about why my little dick had a mind of its own, getting hard at the most inopportune times. Holy shit, it was nakedness! If I saw nakedness or just thought about it, that made me pop a boner! Of course there was more to it than that. I still had much to learn. In the coming weeks during the spring of my 11th year, my close buddy Jon was poised to thoroughly school me in the private, intimate boy pleasures that could be shared, as long as we promised "not to tell."