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Strip Poker

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When I was in junior high, I had a good friend named Mike. He was in scouts with me, and was one of those I knew was masturbating in his sleeping bag at night at camp (see my earlier post, 'Summer Camp'). We sometimes slept out in each others' yards in sleeping bags, and one morning I woke early with a boner. I decided to masturbate, so I pulled my pillow down under my crotch and began humping it, which was my usual way of doing it at that time. Mike was laying right next to me, so I tried to be quiet, but masturbating that way is inherently a little noisy, especially since I was breathing hard, and though he didn't show it, I'm positive he woke up and knew what I was doing. I felt a little sheepish after coming, and cleaned up as quietly as I could, but I'm sure he knew. He pretended to wake up about 5 minutes later, and we went about the day.
The next time he was over at my house, we were just messing around, and he suggested we play strip poker. I was surprised, but figured him knowing that I masturbated that morning out in his yard made him think I might be interested in some sex play, and of course he was right! I agreed, and went and found some cards.
Now neither of us really knew how to play poker, but of course poker wasn't the real purpose of the activity. Getting naked was. Poker was just a tool for getting in that condition. He suggested that the penalty for losing was that the loser had to lay perfectly still and the winner got to do anything he wanted to get the loser to move. That certainly had interesting possibilities, so I agreed. I don't remember how long we played, but I think it didn't take long for me to lose. I was wondering what was going to happen as I pulled my underwear off and lay on the floor for him to do whatever he could to make me move. I had a good boner by then, and felt a little foolish with it just sticking up like that.
Mike played around by tickling me in various places, as though he really was trying to get me to move, but pretty soon settled in on my penis, running his finger up and down, then gripping it lightly and starting to stroke me. It was pretty obvious what he wanted to do, and I just lay back and enjoyed it. He stroked me a little harder and faster, and I could feel the familiar build up to orgasm, and then it hit. When he felt my penis throb, he just held his hand almost still, but firmly, and after two slow, dry throbs, I shot about five quick jets onto my stomach and chest. It felt great, and I just lay there enjoying it.
When I'd recovered, Mike tossed me a rag to clean up with, then pulled his underwear off and lay on his back. It was clear what he wanted me to do, so I did what he'd done to me, and jacked him of for about 10 minutes before he began to come. Unlike me who shot fairly far, his semen just dribbled out, all over my hand. The pulsing of his penis was just as strong as mine, but I guess he was just a dribbler. His semen felt incredibly hot on my hand, which surprised me. I held on to him until he began to soften, then I let go and cleaned him and me up with the same rag.
We agreed that was fun, and he left almost right away. I was worried that he was sorry we'd done that, but he was late, and after all, he is the one who started it.
The next time he was over at my house, he suggested strip poker again, so we did it again. This time he lost, and I didn't even bother with the pretense of tickling him. I started right in on jacking him off, and again he dribbled all over my hand. I didn't mind, though. And then he did me.
I began looking forward to these escapades. We both knew what we wanted to do, but we kept up the subterfuge of playing strip poker for several years. I remember very clearly one day when we were doing it, and I had just finished masturbating him, and he had just started to do me, when his mother pulled into the driveway earlier than expected and honked for him to come. It scared the daylights out of us, and we dressed as fast as we could for fear of her coming in, and he dashed off. I was extremely disappointed at him not having a chance to jack me off. I did myself, but it wasn't the same. The interesting thing that I realized shortly afterwards was that my disappointment was misplaced, since I realized that I actually got more pleasure out of pleasuring Mike than from him doing me. I could give myself more pleasure than he could since I knew how to do it to myself best. Not that I didn't enjoy it when he did me; I did enjoy it a lot, and I think a big part of the enjoyment was the taboo nature of what we were doing. But I really got into it when I was handling his penis, and watched his face carefully for his reactions as I did it, and tried to make it really good for him. His jacking of me was more matter-of-fact than that.
I also thought it was odd that neither of us just said, 'Hey, lets jack each other off.' I think he didn't want to admit to himself that was what he wanted to do. He never talked about it, either. It was almost as though we were in a different world when we did it.
That was similar to what happened with another Mike that I knew when I was 14. He would stop at my house on the way home from school every afternoon, get my tub of vaseline, and sit in a chair by my window. He'd pull his pants down, and masturbate furiously right in front of me, grunting when he came. He'd just clean up and go home. He never spoke of it or interacted with me when he did it. I finally got tired of him coming and doing that every day. If we'd had some sex play together, I would have liked it, but it seemed like he was just using me because I always had a large tub of vaseline he could use. It wasn't much fun that way.



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