Date: Sat, 29 Apr 2017 17:52:59 +0000
From: Zack McNaught <zackmcnaught@hotmail.com>
Subject: Six Weeks With Jack Chapter 3

Author's notes:

(1) All this is written in British English. Hence, arse (ass), willy
(penis), wank (masturbate), pants (underwear), fanny (vulva).

(2) There is a historical inaccuracy - the Nintendo game, Super Mario
World, was not released for the SNES console in the UK until 9 months or so
after this story takes place. Please forgive me for warping that little bit
of reality.

(3) Part of this story (but by no means all) is accurate to real life, and
it is written about my youth, and so rather than using my alter-ego, Zack,
I've used my real name throughout.

Anyway, enough of that - on with the story.


Six Weeks with Jack, by Zack McNaught

Chapter 3

We were a little too hyped up to be very sensible that evening. Excited
chatter filled the air, and mum warned us to be quiet about twenty time
before she just gave up on the idea and went to bed.

The new Mario game was amazing (even these days I still think it's one of
the best games ever devised), and we played late into the night, until I
noticed that Jack was actually nodding off next to me. I probably could
have kept going longer, but it was obvious we had to stop, and so I
directed an already half-asleep Jack to the blow-up mattress on the floor,
where he curled up still dressed, and I quickly got into the shorts I wore
for bed in summer, leaving my upper body bare. There was the hint of a
thrill being naked for a moment with Jack in the room, but it wasn't really
that much of a risk because I'm fairly sure he was snoring before I started
to get changed. I slipped into bed, and as the adrenaline of playing the
game faded away, fell quickly asleep.

Jack woke first in the morning, and in fact when I woke up he was already
playing Mario in the corner of the room, where we'd hooked it up to my
little 14" TV. He was at least considerate enough to have turned the sound
down. He turned around when I sat up, and grinned at me.

"It's so cool," he whispered, obviously worried about waking my
mum. "Sorry, I couldn't wait until you got up."

"That's OK. You were pretty tired last night."

He gave me a shy smile, and blushed slightly.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm not good at staying up late."

"That's OK," I shrugged. "You don't have to be. How long have you been
awake?"

"I don't know, two hours maybe?"

"You've been up since six?! Wow."

"Yeah, like I said, up early, especially in summer."

"I'm going for a piss," I said, rising, paying no attention to the fact I
had a morning stiffy.

Jack noticed, though. His eyes went straight to it. He didn't say anything,
and his expression was entirely neutral, but his gaze was locked onto the
little lump in my crotch. His mouth hung slightly open, as if he'd
forgotten to close it.

The moment lasted all of three or four seconds, but it felt a lot
longer. Embarrassed to have been caught like that, I all but ran out of the
door and into the bathroom. Once there, it took an annoyingly long time to
make my willy lose its steel hardness so I could finally relieve the stress
in my bladder.

Returning to the room, it finally occurred to me that at some point during
the night Jack had changed into his pyjamas, which like me consisted of
nothing more than a pair of soft cotton shorts in the summer heat. I didn't
bother asking him when he had changed, because that was a far less
interesting matter than the subject of the soft but still visible bulge
presented in their crotch. My eyes were drawn magnetically to it, no matter
what my conscience said about it being wrong to look.

I sat down next to him on the floor, and waited and watched while he
played. He was probably a bit better than I was, but it really wasn't what
was happening on the screen which bothered me. Because of the space, we
were sitting right next to each other, so close that our bare shoulders and
upper arms touched, and the sensation of his hot, smooth skin against my
own was giving me goosebumps. Him, too, I noticed. I didn't really
understand at the time why that might be, but in hindsight it was clearly
the blossoming of a more than fraternal feeling for him. It was that moment
in my room, playing Super Mario World, which I think marked the beginning
of a new relationship between us, one which would take some time to reach
its peak, and even longer to accept.

- - -

For several days, nothing particularly changed in the way we went about
things, though notably we rarely spent a night apart, either at his
grandmother's house, or more frequently, mine. Not that we read anything
into it particularly, it was just that we liked each other's company
sufficiently that we didn't see the point not being together all the
time. During the days we hunted for more `materials', as we'd come to
nickname our pornographic find, but the woods were no longer so
forthcoming. At night, when we were at mine, we would sneak a quick look at
the magazine when we were sure mum was in bed, but there was not yet a
repeat of the moment Jack had touched himself in front of me. That, of
course, didn't curtail my activities, and when I lay in bed I would go
about bringing myself off as silently as I could, hoping that Jack didn't
realise what I was doing. Somehow I was naive enough to imagine that he
wasn't doing exactly the same in his bed, though of course I know now that
he was. At the time, though, I thought I had to keep the activity secret
from him.

It changed a few days later, though. I was writing in my diary, catching up
with a few wanking records, when Jack came back unexpectedly early from
what was usually a long shower. For some reason, though, this day he had
taken only a few minutes, and walked in just as I was writing in the secret
early morning wank I'd had that morning. Of course, it was all in code, but
that didn't stop me shutting the book when he came in, something he
immediately picked up on.

"You writing secrets down?" he asked, with half a smile. There was no
malice in it, but I wasn't sure I wanted to share. Or did I? If I didn't,
then why on Earth did I bait him, and tempt his interest?

"Not really. I mean, it's not like you'd be interested anyway."

"Interested in what?"

"Really, it doesn't matter. It's boring."

"Go on, try me."

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You have to promise not to laugh. And you absolutely cannot tell anyone,
OK?"

"Um, OK. But what's so serious?"

"Do you promise not to tell?"

"Yeah, yeah. I promise, OK?"

"Fine. It's... it's my diary."

"Yeah, I kind of guessed that."

"But I don't just write the usual boring things."

"Right, so?"

"I record every time I... every time I have a... y'know."

"A what? A dump? A bad dream?"

"No! A... a wank."

The last word was whispered. Jack's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped,
and for a moment he just stared at me. Then he shut his mouth, swallowed,
and a grin broke out.

"You really record them? What, every one? What do you write?"

"Um, well, whether I, you know, get there or not. And where I was, and if
I... if I shot any sperm."

"Oh, wow, do you shoot stuff then?"

"No. I mean, not yet."

"I do," he muttered, then put his hand over his mouth and giggled, as if
he'd revealed something he hadn't meant to.

"So, you don't think it's weird, then?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, it's really weird. But it's also kind of cool. Can I... can I
read it?"

"No way!"

"Go on, please?"

That's when I noticed something, which I suppose I might've expected to
see. The front of Jack's towel - still wrapped around his waist from the
shower - was tented out. He had an erection!

"No, you can't. I write something else in there."

"Like what?"

"I'm not saying."

"Oh come on! It's probably something boring like how long your dick is."

I said nothing, just blushed deeply, and Jack knew he'd hit the nail on the
head, albeit inadvertently.

"It is that, isn't it? How long is it? Please, I won't tell anyone, and if
it's really tiny I won't laugh or anything. I don't have a massive one."

"I'm not sure. I don't think..."

"Please?"

The way he said it, that last time, with a hint of desperation in his
voice, made up my mind for me. With a huge sigh, I said,

"Eight point three centimetres. Go on, tell me yours is way bigger."

"Um, actually, I don't know. How long *is* that, exactly?"

I reached over to the desk in the corner of the room and handed him a
ruler, which happened to be the one I lay along the top of my dick to
measure it. He slid his thumb along the edge until he found the spot, then
gave a low whistle.

"That's big."

"Really?"

"I think it's bigger than mine."

"Haven't you measured it?"

"No, I never have. Should I do it now?"

"Yeah, go on!" I laughed.

I think I thought he would leave the room, go back to the bathroom and then
come back with the results. Or at least turn away while he did it, but
there's no accounting for the horniness of youth, and Jack simply dropped
the towel and stood naked before me.

It was the first time I'd seen another boy naked in as long as I could
remember, certainly since I'd last been bathed together with a cousin
several years before. My eyes skipped over his body, and came to rest on
his boyhood. It did indeed look shorter than mine, but crucially it was
much, much fatter, and the foreskin was pulled tightly enough back that it
was almost completely blunt, with barely enough skin to stop the head
peeking through the end. It was dead straight, pointing up at forty-five
degrees, whereas mine had a gentle upward curve to it.

Jack was grinning at me.

"Nice, innit?" he laughed, and though I joined him in laughing, I realised
that it really, truly was. It was a gorgeous dick, and for the first time
in my life I realised something - I quite liked dicks. I wanted to touch
his, to hold it in my hand. Little did I realise that my wish was about to
become a reality.

"How do you measure it, then?" he asked. It seemed rather obvious how you'd
go about it, but I suppose there were a number of variables to take into
account. I decided to offer some practical guidance.

"Um, want me to do it?"

Jack giggled, bending over and covering his mouth with both hands. From
behind this little shield his eyes shone with merriment, and he nodded.

He kept his hands clamped firmly over his mouth as I came closer to him,
mesmerised by the sight of his tool, as it bobbed in time with his
heartbeat. I could see the pink line running down the underside (finally
proving to me that there wasn't something wrong with mine, after all), and
the crinkled sack of his scrotum (holding balls which I was almost certain
were a bit bigger than mine). And there was the way the thing looked -
solid, hard as steel, but soft, too. I longed to touch it, and then
realised that all I had to do was reach out, and I could.

It was hot, so hot. I couldn't remember my own willy feeling so damn
hot. And it was hard. My God, was it hard. Its rigidity was frightening,
because there was the sense that it might snap off when I bent it down, as
I must do to apply the ruler. And he gasped as I did so, one leg quivering
as excitement raced through him.

Trying desperately to fight the urge to start wanking him, I placed the
base of the ruler at the point where his willy met his body, and hovered
close above his boyhood, strangely aroused by the meaty, sweaty, boyish
smell of the thing. I ran my eyes along its length, to where the very tip
of it graced the halfway mark between seven and eight.

Suddenly, I realised how close I was to doing something which would ruin
our friendship totally, and so as if it burned me, I let go his dick. He
immediately pulled up the towel, trapping it in the upright position, and
creating a view nearly as obscene as if he'd left it puddled at his feet.

"Seven and a half, exactly," I told him, and the disappointment was clear
to see. "But it's fatter than mine," I added, to soften the blow.

"Really?"

"Really. Mine's way thinner."

"Can I..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence, and I needed no
encouragement. Standing, I pulled down the front of my shorts by the
waistband, and waited there, holding it down while he looked. It was
probably only a handful of seconds, but in that time I nearly came with the
excitement of showing off to someone, and I watched as Jack stood paralysed
before me, one hand sub-consciously reaching towards me, but halted by some
higher instinct; I could see his heart thumping behind his ribcage as the
excitement became too much.

"Need the loo!" he said in a strangled cry, and was gone, holding the towel
up around his waist. I knew what he was going to do, and that spurred me on
- I fell back across my bed, shoved down my shorts to my thighs, and
grabbed my little thing. My actions were frantic, and furious, and a whole
lot else besides, and in mere moments I was arching my back, drumming my
heels on the frame of the bed, clenching my teeth, cumming,
cumming... cumming...

There wasn't time to write it in my diary, but I definitely did later.


End of Chapter 3

zackmcnaught@hotmail.com