Thinking of Her

I'm thirteen years old, in my bed, reading. It is sometime in the mid-afternoon of a winter's day during Christmas break. I'm reading the first Harry Potter book with one hand, while the other is under the sheets moving my foreskin up and down over my glans. I've got a hard-on to beat all hard-ons, and there is just a touch of pre-cum on the tip of my penis. The house is empty, even the dogs are out-they are getting cleaned, if memory serves, so, placing the book beside me, I decide to keep stroking myself, just for the fun of it, not precisely trolling for an orgasm, just seeing where this fantasy I have will take me.

I pull the sheets back to reveal my erect cock sticking through my blue-and-white boxers. I'm thinking of a girl, the hottest girl in fifth grade-one of the few to have grown breasts, and did she ever grow them. In my mind's eye, her hands stroke me, she smiles at me, says that she likes the way my penis looks, loves that I'm uncircumcised, thinks my foreskin is a turn-on, the whole nine-yards of sex-fantasy that are common with a recently pubescent boy, and slowly she moves her mouth towards my glistening head as I slide my boxers down.

The elastic waistband barely rubs against the tip of my dick, before I can reach for anything other than the boxers that were just passing my thighs, and bam! I'm shooting, oh God, I'm cumming. Looking down, I see a rope of cum shoot from my cock, impacting with the cloth boxers that wait a few inches away in slow motion, then I see stars, and beyond the stars I see cum, rivers of my semen pouring from my twitching member-some of the liquid, ozone-scented, warmth runs over my fingers and into wisps of pubic hair. I scream in primal delight, this orgasm is unlike any I've had before, I feel like I will never stop cumming. The waves of pleasure from my ejaculation ripple outward and hit my chest, my lungs and heart feel wonderfully numb, the sensation continues like a shockwave, spreading down to my fingers and making my toes twitch in pure ecstasy. My left hand is still stroking my hypersensitive member, hips still thrusting into the ring made by my index finger and thumb, semen-soaked foreskin sliding up and down. I've never felt this good. Oh! Oh please let this never end.