My rod becomes hot and then stands straight up as I sit in bed listening to my friend.
We've known each other a while but were on holiday together with his parents. We were in a hotel and sharing a room. We are in our beds, light on and talking. The subject has turned to girls and, of course, who we like and what each of us would like to do with some girl friends we have. The talk drifts round to masturbation and John, who is a little older than me, suddenly asks if I have ever masturbated, you know, actually come, he says.
Now, up to this moment I have never spilled my seed, not knowing how to do it and never having seen how it's done or anything, even talked about it. What I had been doing for at least two years is thinking of girls, feeling my semi-stiff cock and pushing it between my legs, tightening them together, and squeezing. While thinking of naked girls and their fannies and feeling the almost smoothness between my legs (I had hardly any hair then) I'd squeeze until I felt a sort of pleasant sensation after which I'd stop. There was never any juice from my tool.
Returning to this night with John, he's talking to me and telling me how to get myself off. So, I'm sitting up listening to him, cock all hard. He's describing the action and what I must do, but not actually doing anything himself.
Rather naively I suppose, I say, You're giving instruction so I might as well do what you say, shouldn't I?
Yeah, OK then.
So I uncover my cock which till now has been concealed by the bedclothes and he can see it from where he is sitting in his bed.
John: Right, it's simple, you've got to hold it in the middle somewhere and just move the skin up and down a bit. It'll feel good and you'll soon figure out the best place to hold it.
So, I'm hearing John, take hold of my cock about half way up: About here?
Yeah, looks good to me. Just move your hand now.
I move my hand up and down and it feels good!
How long do I do this for?
Don't be daft! he intones. You just keep going now till you come. You'll soon feel when it's going to happen.
My hand moves up and down the shaft, and I am really enjoying the feeling. No inhibitions about doing this in front of John, probably because of my naivety and lack of knowledge. It doesn't take long for me to realise that I don't want to stop, that the pleasurable sensation is increasing, building up and that it's going to be better than squeezing my legs together on a trapped cock!
John is watching spellbound! You must be getting near the moment, he says. I don't feel much like talking now. I'm too gripped by the feelings in my loins! I'm too busy looking at myself, at my hand oscillating up and down my very rigid tool and I can definitely feel that there is going to be a climax to these motions.
There is no variation to my stroke: it's the first time so the beat is steady right up to the moment of maximum pleasure when I tense up and then, wonderfully, my cock spills its first drops of cum. More than spills, indeed! It fairly spurts its first fluid, throbbing strongly times without number, and my spunk jumps into the air and falls back onto me, my hand and the sheet. I just go on rubbing my cock till I feel satiated. The white fluid seems to be everywhere!
John again: Well, that's it. You know what to do now and, believe me, you'll do it often from now on!
Once I've sorted myself out and in the dark I think about this: it was really good. Yes, I will be doing it again, and the next night, I did! But there was the minor problem of how to stop the spunk from going all over the place. The solution soon presented itself: the handkerchief. Easy! Catch the spill in my handkerchief. So next night, when I masturbated, at the critical moment I folded a handkerchief over the end of my cock and caught the spurting fluid. I soon learned that at the moment of climax a little pressure on the underside of my cock increased the pleasurable sensations.