To print this page, use your browser's "print" button. Then click back to return to the site.



logo



Breaking the Silence

In early puberty I was taught to masturbate by a friend in my neighborhood, and we masturbated together two or three times a week before my family moved out of town.

I loved masturbating, and especially loved masturbating with him-and masturbating him, too, since be both would play with each other sometimes. Although our penises were about the same size, he had bigger balls and was more hairy that I was, and also had copious cums that I didn't have. We were both attracted to girls, and girlie magazines, and it also seemed really natural to masturbate naked with each other when we could.

In my new school, I made a few friends, and one boy in particular, had mentioned masturbation a couple of times, and so I though that he'd probably like to masturbate together, and one afternoon, when we were alone in his house, I asked if he wanted to jack off together, and something like that I'd love to see his cock.

He freaked out and called me gay and we were no longer friends. I was devastated, and for many years was afraid to even mention masturbation to anyone.

When I went off to college, and especially when I had an apartment off campus, I masturbated a whole lot, and I began to really miss watching another guy and playing with him. I was sure there were guys around who would like it too, but I was petrified about asking any of the other guys.

I did get to know an older man, a research assistant-we shared some mutual interests. One afternoon he came over to my apartment before we were going out to a movie, and I'd left my mags in the toilet from wanking earlier in the day. He noticed, and made what seemed like a simple joke about them-but which made me think that he might have meant more, and stirred my cravings to masturbate with another guy.

All evening, I could think of nothing else, and probably was a bit weird and certainly was quiet. After the movie, we went back to my place and were sitting around talking about nothing, when he said, 'John, do you like to masturbate?'

'Yes,' I said, 'doesn't everybody?'

'Well yes,' he said, 'but some of us like it more than others. I do, and I think you probably do, too. Do you?'

'Yeah, you got me there, I masturbate more than anyone I know...but then I don't ask anyone, either,' I said.

'Oh, excuse me for prying. It's just something that I've thought about for some time now. I hope you don't mind?'

'....No, that's fine. What were you thinking?' I suddenly realized that my dreams might be answered, and my heart began to race.

'Well,' he said, 'often when we've been together, when I go home, I have a big urge to masturbate. I thought, well, maybe we have something in common.'

'Yeah, that's funny,' I said. I usually jack off after we've been hanging out, too.'

'Have you ever thought that you might want to do it together with me?' he asked.

I wanted to tell him how MUCH I'd thought about that, about how I'd seen the lines of his cock sometimes in his pants, and I'd imagined how long and thick and hairy his cock would be (8' and slender, and I was right) Or tell him that I'd looked at his hands, his fingers, and wondered if he stroked slowly or hard (slowly). And tell him that I imagined my own hand slowly stroking his cock until I felt him gasp and cum, drenching my fist.

I wanted to tell him that, but all I could say was, 'Yeah, I thought about it.'

'I have, too, John.' The silence said everything. I wanted to utter an invitation to him, but couldn't move my lips; in fact, I couldn't move a muscle! He rubbed his pants, and the shadow, puffy penis that I'd spied so many times quickly filled his groin. He was hard. I was nervous and shriveled.

'Do you mind?' he said, gesturing that he wanted to unzip. I nodded, and he pulled out his cock, hard and full. I hadn't seen a hard cock so big, ever. Tufts of hair on either side, just like my young friend had. I watched him for a short while, and then unbuckled my pants and pulled them off, in silence.

In silence, we masturbated, and he took down his pants too, playing with his balls and showing them to me between his open legs. I showed him too, without a word. Then, like magic, and suddenly, we both came together-grunting and almost screaming!

We sat exhausted and excited, and after I got some towels, he came and sat next to me and wiped the cum from my body. A huge wave of desire swept over me to feel his hand, and I opened my legs and turned my body toward him, and felt the touch of his fingers, and warmth of his palm, gently stroking my still tender cock to erection. I wanted to stroke him, too, but waves of excitement sweeping over me kept me frozen hot in my seat. He played with me for a long time... exquisitely, and expertly bringing me to places I'd never felt. I came shivering and shaking like a schoolgirl.

Well, that was the beginning...for three more years, while I was at university, we masturbated-and sometimes more-at least every week. I'm married now, but still visit two or three times a year, and he can still make me shiver like a schoolgirl. My wife had many affairs with girls in college, and is sympathetic with my desires. In fact, she recently pointed out to me a young man at her office who, she is convinced, would appreciate another man's hand on his cock....


Posted on: 2018-04-30 00:00:01 | Author: