It was the summer I was 16, which made me the oldest in the room. Most of the boys were 14, some were 15. There were 8 of us in that room, but I only remember four of us clearly. Myself, Gentle, top bunk #7 furthest from the door, and my twerp of a bunkmate, Gord in the bottom bunk #8. Frenchy, top bunk #1 nearest the door, and Tommy, top bunk #3.
Could’a been me, could’a been my friend, could be you
I got my tonsils removed when I was five. My father was away on a business trip. After dropping me off at the hospital, circumstances prevented my mother from visiting me.
Have you ever watched yourself in a mirror, while you make yourself cum?
I like to ask this question, because the answer says so much about the person. Encapsulated in the question is also “How adventurous are you?” “How visually oriented are you?” “How much trouble are you willing to go through exploring your sexual self?”
I was doing a show in an old institution of a theater, and he was an errand boy, brought in to assist on show day. Unfy cute, nice round ass in tight jeans, a little girlish in the eyes, and totally hot in the arms, within half an hour of meeting him I could tell you exactly where he was in the building at any second.
Everyone establishes habits, a time of day they usually wank, or as I like to call it “The best five minutes of my day!” But sometimes you’re given a gift of being horny, having the house to yourself, and loads of time. On those special occasions, I like to indulge in using lube.
In the toenail of bearable climate,
of the frigid north, true and free
it snowed.
I walked the dog in the snow and had to stop.
Had to put up my hood of my red winter coat, pull on my gloves as the dog
pulled at the leash.
Back in my bed,
my warm bed,
where I left you when the dog whined
when the dog pawed at the door
When I went out in the sudden unexpected snow
you’ll take advantage of my absence to dress
to leave
to let my bed cool, cold
As the dog and I push against the wind
the flakes sticking to her black hair,
I wonder if you’ll leave me a note.
The memory of you
The hollow of your thigh,
The moan ungaurded
The rapture of desire fulfilled
The memory so fresh makes my cock swell
my cock pushes against the track pants I pulled on
and went commando into the snow
my cock, sticky with your spit
with my cum
is caught by the fleece
Will the note have your name
your number
Will you close the door when you leave
and keep the snow out of the bedroom?
There are questions I drop into people’s ask box. They tend to be the same sets of questions, sometimes asked directly, sometimes with a sidelong glance. Of course they reflect my preoccupations; I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. If I haven’t asked you, it’s only because I haven’t wanted to scare you off, for the very personal nature of the questions upset and scare many people. Over the next little while, I’ll be posting these questions, and following with my answer. Naturally, I urge you to answer also.
How old were you the first time you made yourself cum? Is there a story around that first time?