Making George Jizz

Posted by: Author: Age: 35 now Posted on: 0 comments
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Don't know how to link to my first story-'Jizzing George'-but this is a follow-up.

 

Thanks for the positive feedback regarding my first story about George, my childhood neighbor. As I suggested, there were many, many stories that followed from that very first incident on the trampoline. Here is the next one.



I realize a lot of the 'coming of age' stories on this site aren't exactly true and some of them entirely fictional, but it seems surprising to me how many of them recount a first male-male masturbation experience that immediately turns into a regular routine of jacking, humping and cumming without anybody getting weirded out about it.



My moments with George on his trampoline as he jerked his big cock in my general direction led me through a lengthy introspective process and a lot of self-defeating torment. Although I would never have admitted it at the time, the thing that affected me the most was how profoundly it had turned me on. Almost as powerful were the doubts that it provoked.



George was nervous about what had happened, too. We didn't talk for a few days until I stopped by to see him. George wanted to make it clear that what had happened was 'a total accident, dude,' and that his hormones had gotten out of control and he'd appreciate it if we didn't talk about it.



That was the LAST thing I wanted. I wanted answers to a thousand questions and, I suppose, I wanted him to teach me how to 'let it out'. But instead, I spent a lot of nights in bed tickling and stroking my hard little, hairless cock, trying to cum. I never got to the point of a dry orgasm, at least, that I can recall. Usually I gave up in frustration when, ten or fifteen minutes into fucking my fingers, I was still the same wispy pre-adolescent.



Over the next couple of months, two things changed. First, I started getting spontaneous erections over and over again, throbbing away in my pants or shorts. This ended the gym shorts without underwear era (until I started dressing that way for the gym in my early 30s). Second, George fell in love with my youngest sister, Emily. There was ZERO chance Emily would ever go out with George. She had a driver's license and a part-time job that paid enough to buy stylish clothes and ... well ... George and I didn't. But George was stopping by all the time, even when I wasn't home-a total change in routine. This made it harder for me to bring up the trampoline and made it even more embarrassing when I would get hard around my friend for no reason, because I feared my sisters might think I was gay. (They never noticed, but such is life as a teenager).



George was completely un-slick with Emily and would stare at her as she walked in from soccer practice, leering openly at her body. On more than a few occasions, I glanced at his jeans or khakis and saw the unmistakable silhouette of his full-grown, fully-plump cock and big balls. As if I weren't already getting turned on by him, now I had this to contend with.



George peppered me with un-subtle questions. 'Do you think Em likes me?' he'd ask.



'Nope,' I'd say. 'You don't have a car.'



'I think she smiled at me today,' he'd tell me, fishing for confirmation. 'And she looked really good in that ____ (insert whatever she was wearing, something I still don't notice, two decades later)...'



'I don't think so,' I'd caution him. 'She was probably didn't even see you.'



One night, after George had invited himself to dinner and awkwardly interrupted over and over again to detail his achievements in whatever topic we were discussing, a clear (and unsuccessful) ploy to get Emily's attention, I reached my breaking point.



We were back at George's house, on the couch in the basement. I was playing video games while George mooned away about my sister ... yet again ... and I finally decided that, if he was going to talk about what HE wanted to talk about then I would, too.



'Do you think about Em when you jack off?' I asked him.



'Dude-!' he said. I saw him squirming out of the corner of my eye.



'What?' I asked. 'You said you do it every day, so it's a fair question.'



'But you're her brother,' he said. 'I mean...'



I realize there are some brothers for whom a 'yes' would have invited a split lip or a broken jaw, but suddenly I was holding my breath, hanging on his every word...waiting for him to continue, afraid to look away from the TV screen for fear he would see how much I wanted him to keep talking.



'I'm OK with it if you do,' I said. I wasn't sure I was OK with it, actually, but not for the reason he thought.



I hadn't seen George this uncomfortable in all the years I knew him. Finally I paused the game and looked at him. 'Well, do you?' I asked.



His leaned back from his forward crouch and I saw his boner immediately. George's big cock was standing bolt upright in his khaki pants, wetting the tight-stretched fabric with a splotch of pre-cum-a total trouser tent, as literal an image as the phrase implied.



Very quietly, he said: '...yes...'



My ears were ringing I was so turned on. My little cock was now equally stiff and throbbing drily away. 'Are you, uh...' I wasn't sure what to say.



'I think I'm a little...uh...' George's voice trembled a little bit with something I now recognize as pure sexual need. 'I can't seem to stop thinking about her and it's, um...'



'You need to let it out?' I prompted.



'Dude...I really do,' he admitted. 'So much that it hurts.'



At those words, I looked over and saw him grabbing at his monster through the fabric of his pants. His cock was pushing so hard at the fly that the buttons were gapping a little like the buttons on a fat guy's shirt. Almost like an animal, he started pawing at himself, fumbling for the buttons and wriggling out of his tighty-whities until his pants and underwear were bunched at his knees and he was slouched down on the couch.



George's dick was even bigger looking than I remembered it, thick and sticky at the head and bent back against his stomach so much that his cock head nearly touched his flat stomach.



What happened next is one of my most enduring sexual memories. I have thought about it thousands of times and probably orgasmed hundreds of times while doing so. As George started stroking, I pulled my jeans, underwear, socks and boots completely off so that I was naked in shirttails. At first he didn't say anything, but when I sat down next to him and started rubbing the flat of my palm all over my cock he stopped and asked, 'What are you doing?'



His hand was still wrapped around his meaty shaft and I was aware that he was looking at my little cock now, and that awareness was a big, big turn-on. It was also my chance. 'Can you show me what to do? I can't make jizz come out and I've been trying.'



George hesitated, still looking at my hairless cock, balls and legs. 'You want to watch this time?'



I nodded.



Wordlessly he resumed. I could actually smell his musk-at least, I think I could-and this time, I shamelessly turned to watch him, one leg bent under me as I did. He was gently rubbing his cock, not pulling on it as I had imagined in my fantasies. Droplets of pre-cum were oozing out, and the skin of his cock made a sticky sound from the wetness as his hand moved up and down. George started to breathe deeply through his nose and shut his eyes, contorting his face again.



'Is it about to happen?' I asked.



George's eyes opened angrily. 'Not if you keep trying to talk to me!'



'Sorry,' I mumbled meekly. His anger stung me, but I couldn't help noticing that he immediately looked down at my cock, balls and legs after flashing his look of rage at my eyes. He also hadn't taken his hand off his cock, nor entirely stopped stroking. George really was like an animal in heat. He just needed to ... as he said ... get his jizz out.



And so, I did the most utterly improbable thing. I reached over and grabbed his big shaft, right below his hand and started stroking his cock with him.



'Fuck you!' George exclaimed, recoiling and shimmying away from me, grabbing my wrist as he did. 'What the fuck are you doing?' Even as he said it, I tightened my grip on his cock and he did NOT try to pull my hand off, so I kept stroking him.



'Am I doing it wrong?' I asked, getting the impression from his weakening grip on my wrist that I was definitely not doing it wrong. His cock was slicker than I had imagined it, and I hadn't expected how rigid it would be, nor how soft the skin of his shaft would feel in my hand. It was a throbbing contradiction-soft hardness-and I wasn't letting go by any means.



George started to protest again, but just then my thumb and forefinger encircled the skin just beneath the head of his cock and his resistance simply vanished as he collapsed into the couch and shut his eyes. 'Ohhh...' he said, breathing in through his nose and then exhaling again. 'Ohhh, yes.'



I felt strangely empowered by the knowledge that I was making him feel good. My own cock was twitching wildly, still dry, but aching so badly, and I brought my leg around to straddle his left thigh and continued stroking, lowering my naked ass cheeks onto his leg as I did so.



'Let it out for Emily,' I told him (I still don't know where I conjured up this particular thing to say-but it was exactly the right thing to say, and it would be the recurrent theme that kept our playtime somehow defensible in our minds from that point forward... I was merely helping him let it out for a girl).



'Yes, Em...' he breathed 'yes!!!' His cock started to tremble in my hand and I saw his big, low-hanging balls begin to tighten up against his body. I could feel his quadriceps contract beneath my ass cheeks and his abdomen literally rippled like an earthquake was passing through him and all the while I kept stroking...



...and this time, George didn't cum out just one shot in a stream. Instead, he erupted in four or five gigantic, sloppy, stringy squirts that fell all over his shirt, the couch and (a little bit) on my cock, balls and thighs. I felt each and every one of the spasmodic pulses pass through him and watched the geysers of his jizz fly up to nearly eye-level as he just spewed out his considerable, pent-up load. I wasn't stroking any longer, so much as just holding on, when I felt the first twitching in my own cock ... a tickle in my asshole that travelled up my spine and around the front of me to my balls and shaft.



Making George cum-specifically, him cumming on me-gave me my first dry orgasm. And I had just given him his first handjob.



It would not be his last...or mine.



xxx,



Kenneth

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