The Jacking Chair

I grew up right before the end of the cold war. We didn't realize how bad things were. Sure, we were afraid of the government, and we seldom got to eat anything exotic - like oranges, and we had to wait in lines for the simplest necessities, but we thought everything we heard about America and elsewhere was just propaganda. It couldn't really be that good over there, right? Like, we couldn't critique the government. There were listeners everywhere. Why people would spy on their neighbors in a society like that, I'll never understand. So, because it was a safe outlet, we complained about the weather, a lot. To give you an example of how bad things were, someone overheard the father of a  boy on my team innocently say on a cold winter day, "I'll bet it's not this cold in America." He disappeared for six months. When he returned, he was thin, pale, and had a sad look in his eyes. He never fully recovered. I was an extremely lucky one, and I knew it. You see, I was skilled in soccer. I don't know why, it just happened. That gave me special status, in a special school. Now, in that school, I had to work hard to maintain my status. There were boys on the team better than me, but I was good enough, and I was still young, so likely to improve. The coach, a very stern, yet likable old, thin, balding fellow, was given carte blanche to do what he wanted with the team, since we were the best in the nation, and the team under the coache's guidance, had participated in the Olympics for 12 years running. I was so looking forward to attend the Olympics, but it never happened. That's another story. So the coach was always trying out experimental new techniques. For a couple of weeks, he might be extra tough, and yell a lot. Then, he insisted we all read an American book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People," and he started complimenting us all the time. Perhaps his strangest experiment of all was the jacking chair. It came to his attention that boys who are particularly horny don't perform as well on the field. So, on the day before a game, he brought out this throne-like padded chair and set it right down in the middle of the big open area in the locker room. The boys, one by one, were to jack off in the presence of the others. They had to ejaculate before they could leave the chair. He said this would make us more balanced for the game the next day. He didn't tell us his plan as he had us leave the field 45 minutes early. We didn't know what was coming. He told us to shower, but not to dress. He thought it might be a medical exam or something. Exams were quite common, and in that time and place, nudity in the showers and locker room was no big deal. We gathered around the throne in the big room, and he told us what to do. While we were still shaking our heads in bewilderment, he left the room. We all said this was ridiculous. Yet we know it was serious. We had to do what he said. We were to each of us, one by one, get in the chair, and ejaculate. It was just too strange. Too embarrassing. We hadn't even had erections in the showers. It just wasn't done. No one wanted to go first. Now, I was always jockeying for the coach's favor since I wasn't the best athlete of the group, so even though he wasn't in the room, I thought he might be impressed if he found out I was the first. So I volunteered. The other boys jeered and carried on, but I took the chair, like I was bravely going to the electric chair. And that's what it felt like. I started to fiddle with my soft willie, but nothing was happening. I was taking too long and I knew it, but by gosh, the other boys were just staring, pointing, joking and carrying on - all about me, there in the chair. What was I to do? One of the boys went to his locker and came back after a minute with a folded piece of paper. It looked like a page from a magazine. He unfolded it, and held it in front of my face. It was a beautiful woman in a string bikini. Somehow, he had got a hold of a page from an American porn magazine, very verboten in our country. That did the job. Probably more because the piece of paper hid the faces of the boys watching me, but in any case, I was able to build an erection, and a minute later, I felt the sweet feeling of orgasm. Silence fell over the locker room as I arched my back, and squirted out my cum. It was a strong orgasm. The boys watched intently. I noticed three or four of them were now sporting erections of their own, and Erich was actually stroking his penis as he stood there. As soon as I recovered, I got out of the chair, my knees surprisingly weak, and one by one, each of the boys in turn jacked off and ejaculated. I have to say, I did enjoy watching, and toward the end, as the last boy was getting ready to cum, I wished I could get back in the chair and jerk off again. For some reason, that experiment lasted only the one session. I so wanted it to happen again, but now, the coach was into his next experiment, playing brass band music on the field.