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Create Your Own Story

Hi Folks! Jeremy and I would love to hear your stories. Please write a story in the comment area below, or you can send direct to me using jenelle@sex270.com.

You do not need to identify yourself but you can if you wish. Your story can be a true memoir, how-to information, fiction, or whatever you want. It would be great if you could let us know whether it’s true or fiction, however. It can be from any perspective.

The length can be anything from a sentence to a complete ebook.

If you’d like to include video or pictures, that would be great. Email them to Jeremy.

Please don’t send any copyrighted material unless you are the owner.

We can’t pay anything for your submissions, and do not guarantee to publish every one, but we’ll do our best to publish anything that’s of reasonable quality.

Showing Everyone

demonstrating XMO, Extended Male Orgasm

This story is not quite true, but based on real events.

Stephen Millbrae wrote a book called “XMO – eXtended Male Orgasm.” How that figures into this story I’ll tell you shortly.

My parents ran a ramshackle little movie theater specializing in obscure documentaries. It didn’t make a fortune, but it was enough to pay for my sister’s college and mine.

I’ve always enjoyed being seen. Since my early teens, from time to time, I’d get up on the little stage in front of the screen to introduce the documentaries. So, I went into drama. I was planning to be an actor.

It was in college that I met my wife. I used to joke that I saw her anus before I ever saw her face. It’s not quite true. The first time I saw her, she was fully clothed, and it was her face I saw.

You see, the filmmaking department often had little movie projects, and needed drama students to be the actors. Being college students, it was important that the film be risque, of course. So, I auditioned and got the supporting actor role. My wife-to-be, Anne, got the lead role.

There was one scene in which we were to be having intercourse doggie style. On film, we would be shown only from the shoulders up, or at a distance, or partially obscured by furniture, but we did have to be fully naked to film the scene.

For some reason, probably because everyone involved was so excited, it was decided to shoot that sex scene first. There were way more people than necessary on the set. The other actors, grips, camera crew, and a whole bunch of people I didn’t recognize. That was OK by me. I was terribly thrilled to be seen by so many people. Maybe it would have been better filming an ordinary scene, not naked, but whatever, right?

We didn’t actually fuck. Instead, I fucked the air below Anne’s pussy with my erect penis. Thinking back on it, I think it would have been OK to do the real thing, but we didn’t really know how far we could go with such a thing.

After college, Anne and I moved to Los Angeles, and tried to get into the movie business. We also talked of New York, possibly getting into Broadway. As you can guess, neither happened. Just about the time we were becoming depressed with my Uber driving and her waitressing, the phone rang.

My parents had been in a car accident. My dad died right away, my mom hung on three days, then succumbed to her injuries.

My sister, who had become a veterinarian in Oregon said she didn’t want any part of the theater, and suggested that Anne and I run it. We talked about it, and under the circumstances, it seemed just right. I already knew the business, like how to find the documentaries, how to do the books how to replace the projector bulb, and so on. So we packed our few belongings and moved up to Santa Rosa. My sister inherited the house, and charged us a reasonable amount of rent. I inherited the theater. It was a 1,000 square-foot building with 110 assorted sofas, recliners and chairs, three projectors, and not much else. Two of the projectors were monstrous antique things that was too big to remove and junk. The modern one hooked up to a laptop to display the videos.

Anne and I figured we might turn it into dinner theater, and we’d be the principal actors. It never happened. In order to remain profitable, we kept showing the goofy documentaries.

Ten years later, Anne and I and our twin nine-year-old daughters woke to a tremendous fright. We quickly threw our valuables into the car, and had to leave town. The whole place was burning up. In the end, like thousands of other people, our home had burned to the ground. So did the theater.

A month later found the four of us along with our cat, living in a borrowed run-down motorhome in a remote northern California town called Dunsmuir. The little bit of money we had was just about gone. I got on the laptop every day, the one that we used to hook to the projector, looking for jobs for Anne and I. At this point, any job would do. We decided that whoever got a job first would take it, and the other one would stay home, in the motorhome, to take care of the kids. It turns out that a master’s in theater arts isn’t much good in the job market. Anne and I were getting desperate.

I came across a gig that required someone to demonstrate a health technique. I wrote saying that both my wife and I were theater graduates. I included pictures of myself and Anne. Stephen Millbrae wrote back saying my wife wouldn’t do at all, but he might be interested in speaking with me on the phone. Would I send a photo?

That was curious. I figured if anyone, it would be my wife he was interested in. I’m not bad looking, but she’s a super hot chick.

He called, explaining the position. It was absolutely shocking, even to me, a closeted exhibitionist, who was once in a college production involving nudity. I understood why he wasn’t interested in Anne.

His book XMO, was all about a technique that lets a man have very long orgasms. He was almost a zealot about all the reasons masturbation is good for people and for society. You know, it prevents STDs, reduces unwanted pregnancies, requires less money, driving and time than dating, allows people to live calmer, less-horny lives, and even lowers blood pressure. His technique ‘kept men happy and out of trouble,’ as he called it.

I’m no rocket scientist, but I figured out right away that whatever this job was, it had something to do with XMO. He explained that he was planning a book tour, or more of a traveling show really, and needed someone to model the technique. He was actually willing to pay quite well.

There were downsides, however. Three or four days of every week, I’d be away from the girls. I’d make the long drive to the airport. He and I would fly into a town, do our demonstration, then return home. Was this simply too crazy? It would involve more than nudity. I’d actually he orgasming in front of crowds of people. Oh, it would all be very clinical, but still! On the other hand, the thought of it was also absolutely exciting.

I talked it over with Anne. She’s always been a bit of a rebel. She sees things differently than the typical American, and I love her for it. She was all gung-ho. This would give her what she wanted most – to stay home and take care of our daughters. She thought that I’d really enjoy this business with Stephen, however it turned out. Explaining to me that it was entirely legal, she eased my fears, and very much encouraged me to audition for Stephen.

He paid for the round trip to Chicago. I showed up all nervous and jerky. He put me at ease right away. He was a short, gray-haired, rotund man, with a disarming personality and smile. We chatted a bit, then he said, “Dress in this,” handing me an opulent purple bathrobe. Right in front of him, I stripped naked and put on the robe.

Almost immediately, he had me take off the robe and get on a massage table, laying face up. My penis was soft as a noodle. He asked whether I had read his book. I sheepishly admitted I hadn’t. I had been afraid to spend the $10 to buy the Kindle edition. I briefly explained about our money problems since the fire that burned down Santa Rosa.

I thought he’d be upset. Instead he said, “Well, then, you’re in for a treat!”

He approached the massage table, and started ever so lightly touching my scrotum the underside of my limp penis. I wasn’t particularly freaked out. I had touched a dick or two and had been touched in high school. It felt more like a doctor’s examination. However, his super-light touching of my frenulum made my penis jump a little bit, and in no time, I was fully erect. I believe the exhibitionist in me was loving showing my hard cock to this old man. Strange, I know, but true.

Then he started in on his technique, letting me know that it doesn’t work for everyone every time, but he was hoping for the best. Soon I was having that ‘gonna cum’ feeling.

Just as I was about to squirt, he pinched my peehole firmly closed with his other hand while continuing the technique. It didn’t hurt as my orgasm started. He continued his motions. I was in full blown orgasm, but nothing was coming out of my penis. He was holding it inside. The orgasmic contractions continued and continued. I had never, ever, felt anything like it. There was a wonderful internal pressure as my urethra tried to compress the trapped fluid inside. This was beyond amazing! He continued holding my peehole closed with one hand, while continuing his work with the other hand, and the orgasm just kept going and going. I was in heaven.

Finally he slowed down, and let go of my penis. A pretty good amount of cum spurted out. It had never hurt a bit, and felt amazing all the way through. Even the afterglow was fantastic. Yes, ‘afterglow’ is what I call it. When I finally stood up, my legs were all wobbly, and I was still in some kind of shocked bliss. The effect lasted to a small degree all afternoon.

He smiled and asked whether I had any questions. I had a million but somehow couldn’t voice a single one. He then said as long as I was willing to remove my crotch hair, I had the job.

I was fine with that. It seems without the hair, I’d be more seen than ever. I was elated to have the job. Not only for the money, but to be actually doing something. And not just anything, but something truly meaningful.

He explained the details of the job, then probably due to my story about being burned out of home and business, he wrote me a $3,000 advance check right on the spot.

Our first show was in New York City. Only twelve people showed up. Stephen explained his technique, answered questions, signed a few books, then introduced me ‘an illustrious documentarian from Santa Rosa, California,’ which made me smile. I opened the purple robe I had been wearing, climbed on the table, and went to work. I was already half-erect, just due to the dozen people watching me so intently. Stephen worked his magic, and sure enough, I was in continuous orgasm for several minutes. He asked me to spread my legs so my feet were dangling off the table, then pointed out to the small crowd that they could see the area just under my balls in continuous spasm. He invited people to reach in and touch my perennial area to feel for themselves. It was all so clinical, and yet that excited me even more, and the orgasm continued.

I went home, and told the whole thing, blow by blow, to my wife. Her eyes glowed with enthusiasm for me. She was so happy about the whole arrangement. She, in turn told me about the girls and how they were doing.

The shows continued and soon were huge sold out crowds in large theaters. Some of the venues were so large that cameras were focused on my crotch and projected onto large screens so everyone could see the details.

Sometimes, I wasn’t in the mood or whatever, and so we’d switch roles. I’d do the technique to Stephen. The shows continued until the coronavirus epidemic. I don’t know what we’re going to do next, but I think we’ll continue when we can. Meanwhile, Anne, the kids, and I are living off the royalties of my own book, a memoir, “Demonstrating XMO.”

Advanced Exam

Advanced masturbation educator exam handjob

“Welcome Mr. Washington.”

“You can call me Jamal.”

“OK, Jamal. I’ll be your examiner. My name is George. George Lewis.”

“And this is your assistant examiner, Amy, who also happens to be my sister.”

“Hi Jamal.”

“You will be scored not only on technique and skill, but also on affability. So, smile and have a good time.”

“How could I not?” [He laughs.]

“Are you nervous?”

“Only a little.”

“Go ahead and disrobe.”

Jamal takes off his clothes, folding them neatly on a nearby chair. He then climbs onto the massage table.

“You’ve already passed the first part of the test. The speed and ease of which you achieve an erection. We’ve had several men in here who actually have trouble getting hard at first.”

“The next test is of your erection itself. Amy will feel your penis for stiffness.”

Amy puts her hands on Jamal’s penis, squeezing and bending slightly, and reports that it is fully firm and erect.

“Now we get on to one of the more difficult parts. We want you to demonstrate several dry orgasms. Amy will put her fingertips between your anus and scrotum, so she can feel your contractions. Go ahead and begin.”

Jamal starts stroking his penis. It takes two or three minutes, as expected, but soon his prostate and urethra are spasming as he is in orgasm. He is quite skilled at the technique, and remains in orgasm for quite a while without ejaculating.

“Excellent,” Amy reports.

“Here comes the most difficult part of the test. This is where most men fail, Jamal. Are you ready?”

“You mean the drip test?”

“Precisely, Jamal. We want you to release a single drop of semen.”

Jamal returns to stroking his penis. The process takes several minutes. George and Amy can see his face contorting, his body tensing and his labored breathing. He is obviously in and out of high orgasm. Finally, a small amount of semen appears at the tip of his penis, amounting to two or three drips, but no more.

“Wonderful!” George exclaims.

“Now, we’ll wait awhile until your penis starts to soften, then you can bring it back up, and take yourself to full ejaculation.”

George, Amy, and Jamal engage in small talk for a while.

“Ok, go ahead and jerk off.”

Once again Jamal starts stroking, and his penis gets fully erect in short order. He continues and finally has a full ejaculation.

Amy wipes the semen off his belly, then grabs his penis with one hand, and starts rubbing the palm of her hand over the tip of his penis with the other.

Jamal is in intense tickle. Not pain, but a very difficult feeling to accommodate, especially after having just ejaculated. He squirms, he moans, his face is all contorted, but he does not try to get away.

As this treatment continues, George explains that this final test is crucial. Occasionally, Jamal may be in a situation where he ejaculates too soon, but will have to continue working after ejaculation. If he can withstand Amy’s glans rubbing, he will have passed the final test.

Amy continues, seemingly forever. In fact, it is about five minutes during which Jamal’s penis stays hard. Jamal has been feeling intensity beyond belief, but the wildness starts to settle down, and now becomes more like a feeling that he needs to urinate. Amy continues, and Jamal does indeed start leaking out spurts of urine. This is expected, and has no bearing on the outcome of the examination.

Finally, Jamal’s penis softens, and Amy steps away from the table.

George makes a final note on the clipboard and with a big smile announces that Jamal has passed the test with flying colors. Jamal is now a certified advanced masturbation instructor.


About 40 years ago, someone in my church got up in front of everyone and complained that Sundays had become more about showing off clothing than being good Christians. She said everyone in the congregation was trying to out-dress everyone else. Evidently this woman was a respected elder, because people took her seriously.

One thing led to another, and in time, it became the practice for everyone to strip off all their clothing, and place it on the pews next to themselves as soon as they arrived. It is said that we are presenting ourselves as God made us.

For the longest time, I thought this was normal. Didn’t people everywhere strip in church?

I really like Sunday worship. I’m even in the choir. So is Willie. Wilhelmena is her real name, but we call her Willie. I really like her. I have even imagined marrying her. Oh, there are plenty of skinny, tall, blond girls, but I like Willie. who is not skinny, tall or blond. We always smile at each other, and we’ve had some long conversations at school when we could.

Sometimes at home, I imagine doing things with Willie with her big floppy tits, and pretty big ass, and I jerk off like crazy.

So, last week, I was there, in the choir, facing the whole congregation as always. I looked over at Willie, and noticed she had shaved her crotch hair. That little black patch was gone, revealing a little slit, with just the hint of her inner labia sticking out. Many in the congregation, men and women, remove the hair from their genital areas, but this was the first time I had seen Willie that way since we were little kids.

My mind immediately went to immoral places, and the next thing you know, I felt an erection coming on. This was terrible! One does not get erections in church! I willed it to go down with all my might, but it wasn’t obeying. Within a minute, I was fully erect, right there in front of everyone. I wished I was taller so I could have been in the back row. I wished I had a big patch of crotch hair to hide behind, but no, there was no escaping my condition.

I imagined the whole congregation shaming me. Maybe even laughing at me. I was mortified. It was that mortification that my erection go down a couple of minutes later.

On the drive home, I was expecting to catch heck from my parents. There’s no way they didn’t see it. I’d probably get teased by George, my little brother. But, not a word from anyone.

It’s been a week now, and no one has said anything, not even Willie. It’s kind of spooky. Tomorrow, I’ve got to sing in the choir again. I’m so afraid…

Beach Town

I love this California coastal community. I chose it not only for the weather and the beach, but because of the laws regarding nudity. Actually, there are no laws about nudity. That’s the point.

Perhaps because I was brought up by very conservative Christian parents, I’m a bit of a rebel. But not without a cause. I’ve noticed how screwed up modern society is about nudity and sexuality, especially in America, I’ve decided to do a little something about it. I mean, if people could be more balanced, there’d be less sexual frustration, fewer unwanted pregnancies, and less STDs. Our psychology would be better overall. Maybe I could help in a small way by being an example of balanced nudity and sexuality.

Now, there are some who are ‘pure’ nudists. They wouldn’t even dare mention ‘nudity’ and ‘sexuality’ in the same sentence. They claim they’re just in it for sun-worshipping, or skinny dipping, or volleyball. They’re lying. Or, they’re struggling against their own nature. There’s no way to totally separate nudity and sexuality, and there’s no reason.

So, it’s Saturday morning a little before 8am. It’s warm. I go out to the garage and make sure my bike’s tires are full and the brakes work. I turn on the blinking safety lights. I’ve got my shoes on, and I put on my helmet. Did I mention that I’m otherwise naked? And, a bit erect, too. This business of riding my bike nude in public excites me. Even scares me a bit. But, I’ve got to do it, right?

So I start off. Two blocks to the bike path that runs parallel to the beach and about a quarter-mile inland. During the two blocks, most motorists I encounter don’t even register that I’m nude. However, I do get a couple of double-takes. On the bike path, I pass about six people on bikes going the other way. By now, my penis is fully erect, sticking straight up and out from the bike seat. It’s not a big dick, but I’m rather proud of it, especially that it’s so erect.

As I pass the various bicyclists, some are shocked, some are ambivalent, a couple say “Hi.” At least two of them know me, and call out my name. They are very good at acting cool.

I arrive at the pickleball park where we have six courts. I’m the first player there. Figuring I’ll put my shorts on in a while, I start hitting some balls, practicing my dropshots and serves. Carol shows up. I’m a bit embarrassed. I probably should have put my shorts and T-shirt on already. She’s quite conservative, so there’s no telling what she’s going to do. She glances downward right at my junk for a second, laughs, and says, “Way to go Jake.”

I muttered something about not thinking anyone was going to be here this early, and hastily went over to my bike, grabbed my clothes, and put them on. I had visions of playing pickleball with the others naked all day, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. Oh well.

Bryan arrives, and so the three of us start hitting the pickleballs around. Then Catherine arrives. Another conservative lady. Good thing I had dressed, I figured. The four of us are talking, and to my embarrassment, Carol tells the others that I was naked when they got there. Now, why did she have to go and do that?

Bryan says, “Wow Jake, I wish I could be that bold.”

Cool. He was good with it. Then conservative old Catherine pipes in, “Bryan, you could be so bold,” receiving quizzical looks from us. “I mean, it’s going to be a hot day. If you want to be clothes-free, it’s alright by me.”

Quitely, in almost a mutter, Carol adds, “Me too.”

Brian is totally red-faced. He’s embarrassed. Why? It isn’t anything anyone said. He must be thinking something that’s doing that to him. After a long pause, he simply says, “Really?”

Three of us, almost in unison, say “Really.”

Brian turns to me, “I will if you will.”

“I will!” I practically shout.

Looking intently at each other, Brian and I start taking our clothes off. I was very concerned that he’d back out at any moment. He was probably thinking the same thing about me. It didn’t happen. Neither of us backed out, and in a minute, we were both as naked as the day we were born. Well, not quite, We both had our shoes and socks on. His penis was a bit puffy, but not erect. I was soft.

Unexpectedly, Carol turned to Catherine, and asked, “Well?” No words were needed. Soon, the two women were out of their clothes too. I was rather surprised to see Carol naked. She’s not exactly in great physical shape. You’d think she may have been ashamed or something. I was proud of her, seeing her flabby self all naked like that. I noticed that she shaved her vagina. ‘So, she’s got a sex life after all,’ I was thinking.

As we started playing naked pickleball, more people showed up at the park. A half-hour later, about half of the players were starkers (other than their shoes, of course), and the other half were clothed. I noticed with humor that the clothed people stuck to themselves, and were on the far three courts. I was so proud of what I had set off, even though it started out so clunky.

Nudity to me is not only about being seen, it’s about seeing. Oh, the things the pure nudists enjoy are good too, like getting an overall tan and so on, but for me, there’s no distinct line between nudity and sexuality.

One of the things I enjoy seeing most is a female anus, especially when I’m not supposed to see it. If a woman makes a point of spreading her ass cheeks and showing me her anus, I’m pleased. But if I come across a woman on a beach or somewhere who is bending over, or somehow her asshole is exposed, I’m instantly horny. With guys, not so much. I know theroretically, they’re the same thing, but I female asshole really sends me, and a guy’s doesn’t generally do much.

Oh, I’m not a homophobic prude. I’ve wanked with guys and all that. Even played with blowjobs a bit. But that’s just the way it is. Show me an unexpected female anus, and I’m zonked! And that’s just what happened. Catherine leaned over to pick up a ball, and I got a clear and open shot of her pretty, pink anus surrounded by a darker circle about two inches in diameter, with its slight radial wrinkles leading to the center.

An erection started to occur in front of me, and there was nothing I could do about it. What could I do? I just kept playing pickleball.

Catherine joked, “You’re happy to see me.”

I quickly shot back, not particularly intelligently, “I guess I am.”

To my surprise, Carol pointed out that she was ‘aroused’ also, by pinching one of her own nipples, and saying, “Look, me too.”

At the end of the game, as the four of us met at the net, then walked around the net poles to switch sides, Carol briefly wrapped her fingers around my still hard cock, and whispered. “More later, if you wish.”

I immediately answered, “I wish.” She may have been heavyset and ten years older than me, but I wasn’t complaining.

Meanwhile, Brian was alternately sporting wood or softening back up every few minutes, and I noticed that he and Catherine were talking to each other too quitely for Carol and I to hear on our side of the net.

After we were done playing, Brian came over and said that all four of us were invited to his house later today for ‘tea.’ We all instantly accepted.

The tide was low, so I rode back home along the beach. It’s a straight two miles, an easy ride. Being a seaglass collector, I took my time picking up the odd piece or two. There were at least a hundred people along the beach, but most took no notice of a naked guy on the bike. While not technically a nude beach, nudity is not unheard of there. About three-quarters of the way home, I stopped, walked my bike over to the dunes just east of the beach itself, found a secluded spot, laid down in the sand, and edged very nicely for a while, while looking forward to and thinking about the four of us getting together that afternoon for ‘tea.’ I’m proud to say I didn’t let myself ejaculate, wanting to maintain a good mood for our get-together, but I did let myself have several dry orgasms.

[Note from Jeremy: That business about dry orgasms is something I’ve been teaching for a while. I believe all men can learn to do it, but it’s not easy. Takes lots of practice. The idea is your bring yourself close to the edge, then back off or stop for a moment, before continuing. That’s called ‘edging,’ and with that, you can delay an orgasm for a long time. However, if you bring yourself right to the edge, then stop or reduce, but only for a second or two, and then resume, you can eventually teach yourself to be in an actual orgasmic state, contractions and all, without ejaculating, or with mini-ejaculations, typically consisting of only one drop of jizz. That’s the trick: It’s just like edging, but you don’t stop but for the briefest when you get close, so you don’t lose what you have built up. You can do it endlessly, although most guys usually fall over the edge after a couple of orgasms and end up fully ejaculating. More about dry orgasms]

Aunt Jean and Uncle Larry

My mother’s brother Larry and his wife Jean are seldom talked about it our family, even though they live only a mile away. We see them at family gatherings from time to time, and they seem like nice people. But everytime my brother, sister or I bring them up with my parents, it’s all hush-hush. I never understood that until recently. I though it was because they didn’t go to church, but no, it was much stranger than that.

My mom, an avid tennis player, had a really sore shoulder recently. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing, but after an exam by the family doctor, my father was advised to take her to Chicago to see a specialist. They were to be away for five days. My sister Katie, who is two years older than me still wasn’t old enough to run the house by herself. I think my parents would have dumped us kids anywhere else if they could, but the only place we could stay was Uncle Larry and Aunt Jean’s.

We arrived to a spectacular welcome. Our aunt and uncle welcomed us in the driveway and were all smiles. We went inside to a nice lunch. I thought it was sort of weird that Uncle Larry wore nothing but shorts, his hairy chest very prominent at the dinner table.

Aunt Jean took us shopping. Sammy, a year younger than me, didn’t especially enjoy the clothes shopping, so Aunt Jean also took us to a sporting goods store. During a quiet time, she took Sammy, Katie and I aside, and in a hoarse, seemingly conspiratorial whisper said, “Whatever you see in our house for the next few days, please don’t be alarmed or upset. You’ll be perfectly safe with us.”

Of course we became immediately alarmed and upset. We tried to get more out of her, but there were too many shoppers around, so she really couldn’t say much. The only thing we got is, “Your uncle is rather eccentric in some ways, and come to think of it, so am I.”

We returned from the mall. Uncle Larry was not around. I asked where he was. Aunt Jean said he was in the back yard by the pool, but maybe we shouldn’t go back there. Then, she changed her mind, saying, “Well, you’ll find out sooner or later.”

We were excited to jump in the pool. We didn’t have one at home, and it was a hot summer day. Sammy disappeared and came back in swim trunks. Katie and I changed into to our bikinis, hoping that being that ‘naked’ wouldn’t bother Uncle Larry, and went out the back door.

We needn’t have worried about the bikinis. He was sitting in a lounger at the side of the pool and waved to us with a big smile. The smile was all he was wearing. He was as naked as the day God made him. We stopped in our tracks, not having any idea what to do. Turn around and go back in the house? Stay there? Uncle Larry said, “Oh, come on over, I’m not going to bite.”

We hesitantly walked over to him. I saw his slightly large belly, and couldn’t avoid noticing his wrinkly old penis and scrotum. I though men had hair down there, but he didn’t. He didn’t have any hair on his chest either. We started talking. At first it was awkward, but soon he had Sammy, Katie and I going on about school, asking whether we had figured out career paths, yet, and so on. Katie especially warmed up, telling him all about how she had decided to become a water colorist, and the contests her paintings had already won. Meanwhile, he was as naked as ever.

Eventually, Katie and I did get into the pool. Uncle Larry joined us. We all swam, we laughed, it was an ordinary good time, other than Uncle Larry being stark naked.

Aunt Jean called from the kitchen. She had snacks. We climbed out of the pool, sitting around to dry off with our towels. To my second major shock of the day, Uncle Larry’s penis wasn’t so small now. It was erect, and sticking straight out. No one acknowledged that. Nothing was said, but I’m sure Sammy and Katie noticed also.

When we got back into the kitchen, it was time for my third shock of the day. Aunt Jean was now as naked as her husband. I had never seen breasts so big, and hanging so low. But come to think of it, I hadn’t really seen that many breasts in my life so far at all. A couple times, I bumped into naked women on the Internet. Sometimes at the church gym, in the shower room, I’d see my mom or someone for a second. Like Uncle Larry, Aunt Jean had no hair ‘down there’ either.

It took my brother, sister and I a while to get used to the two of them all starkers like that. But in time it normalized. They continued to run around the house naked, while the three of us had dressed again after the snacks.

That evening, we watched a movie on their big screen in the living room. It was Princess Diaries. I’ve seen it before but I love that movie. I could see it a hundred times. Sammy says it’s his favorite movie of all times.

Katie, Sammy and I were on a sofa, while Aunt Jean and Uncle Larry were in matching recliners. Somewhere during the movie, Uncle Larry’s penis had become erect again. He didn’t do anything to hide it. Meanwhile, I glanced over at Aunt Jean, and she had her hand between her legs and was making little movements. I knew exactly what that was.

I had been quietly masturbating for more than a year, but it never occurred to me than grownups might do that too. In fact, I had somehow thought masturbating was bad, that it was something I’d have to outgrow.

I quickly looked back at the movie. I didn’t want Aunt Jean to catch me staring, but it was too late. “It’s OK honey,” is all she said.

Then, I glanced at my uncle. Oh my god! He was rubbing his erect penis! Just right there in front of all of us, without a care in the world! I look at my siblings, and they were staring and trying not to stare at the same time, just like me.

Suddenly, Uncle Larry arched his back, groaned a little bit, brought a Kleenex to his penis, and we could see a bit of the white fluid spurting out.

No one said a word as the movie continued. A short while later, Aunt Jean was squirming and moaning in her chair. I knew what was going on with her. It kind of made me want to do the same thing, but no way!

The three of us shared our aunt and uncle’s spare bedroom that night. Sammy camped out in his fluffy sleeping bag on the floor, Katie and I sharing the bed.

We didn’t say much at first. It was Sammy who broke the ice.

“What the fuck was that?” Katie admonished him to watch his mouth, the way Mom would have.

“Oh, sorry, I mean, they were naked and masturbating, right? Is that normal? Is that the way it is in most families, and we just didn’t know?”

Katie answered, “Brother Boy, I have no idea. I have to say the idea is certainly amusing. I mean, what if we could do that? You know, get all sexual with ourselves right at home in front of the TV or whatever.”

“Mom and Dad would kill us dead on the spot!” Sammy announced.

We all laughed.

“So, you do it?” I sheepishly asked Sammy.

“Well, yes, I guess if Uncle Larry will jerk off right in front of us like that, I can admit that I have masturbated.”

“Me too,” Katie and I added in unison.

“Does anything come out?” Katie asked, figuring he was probably too young.

“Yes, I can cum. Not like Uncle Larry, but stuff comes out. Does anything come out of girls? I’ve never really understood about girls.”

I answered him, “We just get sort of slippery down there. That’s all.”

All three of us were not only curious, but quite horny at that point. By this time Aunt Jean and Uncle Larry had gone to bed, so we felt a sort of naughty freedom to talk and what-not. Katie was the first to suggest we show each other, so that night, all three of the Weston kids masturbated openly for the first time in their lives, each absolutely fascinated to watch each the others. I can’t speak for my brother and sister, but I had a spectacular orgasm. And from the looks of things, and their barely suppressed squeals, so did they. I found it really interesting to see a couple of drops of clear fluid ejected from my brother’s little penis.

We very much enjoyed our stay at Aunt Jean’s. By the last day, all three of us were as naked as our aunt and uncle most of the day. All five of watched a movie that last evening, and all five of us had orgasms right there in the recliners and on the couch. No one touched anyone else. Our aunt and uncle were perfect and appropriate hosts.

The three of us discussed it, and decided not to blow Uncle Larry and Aunt Jean’s cover, if that’s what it was. I knew from my parents’ reaction that they already knew Uncle Larry and Aunt Jean were ‘different’ and that she didn’t think much of their lifestyle, but we didn’t think it would be appropriate to say something like, “Yeah, mom and dad, we masturbated with them, and it was fun.”

Lately, my parents have decided that Katie is old enough to watch over Sammy and me for a few hours at a time, so they’ve taken to having date nites every Wednesday evening.

As soon as they leave, my siblings and I have gathered in Katie’s room to have what we call ‘masturbation parties.’ Recently, we’ve started touching each other. I have had Katie’s and Sammy’s fingers deep in my rectum, and I have say, that’s a real delight. Who knew that a girl could have crashing orgasms from someone sticking fingers in her ass? I have felt Sammy’s penis pulse in my mouth while he’s cumming, and that too, is a super delight. Yesterday, I licked a vagina to orgasm for the first time. Katie’s of course. I loved the taste of it. I don’t know where this is leading. One thing the three of us have talked about, and decided that we can never do is have Sammy’s penis inside either of us. Nothing else is off limits. Yesterday, we all hugged and kissed, and rolled around on Katie’s bed for like a half hour. Sammy’s little penis was sticking out rock solid the whole time. My body was tingling all over, especially when my sister’s big tits were pressed against my tits.

Young Brother-Sister Ass Crack

In the way some kids play doctor, my sister and I played massage therapist. That’s what our Aunt Kay did for a living, although we didn’t really know any of the details.

About the time my sister Amy was old enough to start having sexual feelings, she called me, her younger brother, into her bedroom one day when my parents were out on their weekly date night. They were supposed to have had a babysitter for us, but she failed to show up. For the first time, my parents felt we were old enough to be left alone at least this one time.

My sister wanted to play massage therapist again. In the past, we had done it with clothes, or at least underpants on. Amy explained to me that Aunt Kay has people take all their clothes off. How she knew this, even whether it was true, I had no idea. Amy insisted that I should try it entirely naked.

For reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, even though getting naked in front of my sister would be embarrassing, I was all for it. With just a bit of hesitation, and her egging me on, I was out of my clothing, and laying face down on her bed. I felt like it was somehow ‘wrong’ but I also knew I really wanted to do whatever it was we were doing.

My skinny little penis was fully erect from the start. She certainly saw it as my underwear came off and before I laid down, but didn’t really say anything. I don’t think she yet understood the full significance of erections. I liked the liberating feeling of being naked and hard in front of Amy.

She went to work, giving me what she thought was a massage. Basically, she very lightly rubbed her hands over my shoulders, back, arms, legs, and then my ass. I have to say having her hands on my ass was really quite nice. She ran a fingertip from just near my scrotum to the top of my ass crack a couple of times. It was above my asshole. In other words, my butt cheeks were together, so she couldn’t even see my anus, let alone touch it. Still, it sent shivers through me.

She knew there was an anus in there, and she wanted to see it, I guess, because she told me to get on my hands and knees. That exposed my anus completely.

With very light touches, she started rubbing her finger on the portion of my ass crack below my anus, near my scrotum. Then she’d rub the ass crack above my anus, leading up to where the butt blends into the lower back. It was so good!

Then, she started rubbing right around my anus in little circles, only a half-inch away from the opening. That was so amazing! My penis was rock-hard, and then it started to kind of throb, or pulse. Nothing came out, but my goodness, what a feeling! I know now that it was an orgasm, dry because I was still too young. Puberty came slowly to me. I was still short and skinny while the other boys in my class were already very man-like.

I have no idea what she was planning to do next. Maybe stick a finger in my butt? Maybe at least touch the very middle of my anus? Maybe play with my penis or balls? But she didn’t have an opportunity to do any of that. You see, the orgasm freaked me out. I immediately crawled off the bed, and put my clothes back on. I politely told her that I really enjoyed playing with her, but had to go, and then I quickly left her room.

No doubt she was confused by my rapid exit, but not nearly as confused as I was.

She inquired several times, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it until a couple of days later. I explained the feeling I had experienced to the degree I could, and she became very curious. She totally wanted to experiment with me, and try something more. I was starting to feel I’d like to continue the experimentation. And what about her? I would have really liked to see her nude, play with her vagina, and maybe try the finger around the butt thing with her.

But, it never came to pass. As it turned out, we never had alone time after that until we became old enough to be involved with girlfriends and boyfriends of our own.


So I play pickleball regularly, and there is this incredibly annoying woman there. Some of the men and women will avoid pairing up with her at all costs. I’m more tolerant, and have played with her several times. You see, the problem is, she’s incredibly bossy. A big-time narcissist. She tells you exactly what she thinks, what she wants, and if you try to tell her anything, she is well practiced in shutting you down. I’m sure you know the type.

The thing is, she’s a looker. She’s around my age, or maybe a few years younger. Maybe 58 or so. She still has red hair. She is very thin, and has an ass that would make you cum just imagining her without clothes.

Being the bossy bitch she is, after a game one time, she started coming on to me. I was attracted to her body, but totally turned off by her personality. I quickly told her I’m married and that I only have sex outside of marriage for sex sake. There’s no chance of a relationship. I figured that would throw her off my trail, unless she actually wanted exactly what I want.

She went for it! I told her, imagining that I was being as bossy as she is, that I’m only into mutual masturbation. No kissing, no actual sex. Still, she went for it.

A half-hour later I was at her place. The minute we got in the front door, we were throwing off our clothing as we headed down a long hall to her bedroom.

She was twice as good-looking without clothes. Most women our age naturally put on some weight. That’s not a bad thing, but perhaps because of societal norms, I’ve been trained to be especially attracted to thin women, and she was very thin. She had pert boobs to match her thin white body. Oh yes, she’s very white, as is so often the case with redheads. Taking the clips out of her long straight hair, I was amazed to see it reaches almost to the top of her butt.

Her pussy was smooth and silky. I guess she’s been lasered, since there was not a trace of hair on it.

In no time, we got down to business. She was controlling even in sex. As I started fondling her delicious little white breasts, with their tiny pink nipples, she was going ‘um-hum’ and ‘un-unh’ indicating exactly what she wanted and didn’t want. She kept it up as my fingers made their way to her clit, and then inside her pretty, wet vagina with its delicious light pink inner labia. By her little code of ‘unh-huh’ and ‘un-unh,’ much like ‘hot and cold’ we played as kids, I soon discovered exactly what she wanted. In her case, she was very much enjoying me pulling on her slippery inner labia, which were quite long, letting them slip through my fingers and pulling again. She started to arch her back, so I knew she was getting close. I placed the index finger of my other hand against her anus, and got an very emphatic ‘unh-hun’ so, taking a second to coat the finger in her juices, I pressed it smoothly into her small, puckered pink butthole. She immediately screamed in a crashing, convulsing orgasm which seemed to last twice as long as one would expect, finally collapsing in a heap on top of my body, pressing my cock against my stomach.

Meanwhile, I had been rock hard the whole time. She recovered, in in her most bossy voice said, “Your turn,” while getting up, and pushing me down against the bed.

Starting more gently than I thought this woman was capable of, she started by ever-so-lightly tickling my hairless scrotum. It was super-delicious. She did that for a very long time, before moving on to the same light tickle, but on my frenulum, making my penis repeatedly jump an inch. This slowly evolved into one of the best handjobs I ever had. Just when I was about to cum, she said, “Party’s over,” and practically kicked me out of her house. I barely had time to put on my clothes.

The ending felt very strange. I so wanted to cum, but she didn’t let me. Later that evening, I jerked off big-time, realizing that what she had done was just right – leaving me incredibly horned up the rest of the afternoon.

The next day at pickleball, I smiled at her and she quietly said ‘unh-unh,’ letting me know that she didn’t even want to acknowledge our closer friendship, if you want to call it that, in public. I was good with that. Very good with that. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know that I actually played with this woman. Ever since that day, I have been absolutely uninterested in a repeat performance, and evidently she feels the same way.


In some ways, I feel like a real winner. Here I am, 88 years old, and still nearly in perfect health. Sometimes my shoulders get a bit sore due to a touch of arthritis, and I get winded if I walk long and hard. My prostate is enlarged, so the pee comes out more slowly. That’s it. My sister is 86, and she’s doing great also. When people ask, I tell them it’s due to clean living. And that’s the truth. She and I try to eat well, avoiding sugary foods, drink in moderation, and don’t smoke.

A couple of years ago, my sister sold her house and started driving an RV all over the country. During one of her extended stays with me she confessed she wasn’t liking the RV lifestyle. I told her to park it permanently in my driveway, and move in here. She was delighted. So was I. Since my wife died ten years ago, I’ve missed female company in the house.

My sister and I have always been close. When we were kids, we learned masturbation together. At first, we didn’t even know what it was. One day, we were playing with a small paintbrush. I rubbed it over her little bump, and she started shuddering. I stopped, and she practically yelled, “No, keep going.” That was her first orgasm. For weeks afterward, we did it the exact same way with the same paintbrush, not quite realizing how the magic was accomplished. She’d use the brush on me, and while it kept my little willie quite hard, and felt wonderful, it didn’t make me shudder like it did for her. On one of the many occasions that she was using the brush on me, she was rubbing it ever so gently on the underside of my hard little penis, and suddenly I felt something amazing. Of course, I know now it was a dry orgasm.

We had many more orgasms together. We learned that the magic wasn’t just in the paintbrush, and discovered many great mutually masturbatory techniques. Mostly, we’d trade back and forth. I’d have her lay down and I’d do her for a while, then she’d do me. It wasn’t long before I was squirting out a couple drips of clear fluid, and not long after that, I was fully cumming. She and I went on to grow hair in all the right places. She grew breasts, and I ended up being six-foot-one.

Somehow, we knew that penetrative sex was not an option. I don’t remember how or why we knew that. Our parents both had management jobs with the phone company, kept long hours, leaving us with babysitters, or sometimes just alone. It was those many alone times, when my sister and I were left unattended, that we masturbated each other. But as far as she and I can remember, our parents never gave us ‘the talk,’ and I don’t think any of the babysitters did either. So how did we know not to fuck? I really don’t know. We just didn’t do that.

Fast forward seventy plus years, and she and I find ourselves together again. One evening she brought up, “Hey, remember when we were kids, messing around?”

“Do I ever.”

“Those were great times, weren’t they?”

“My goodness, yes!”

“Do you ever, um… get the urge these days?”

“I wank all the time.”

Then after a long silence she asked, “Would it be immoral, or… I mean… would there be anything wrong with…”

I interrupted, “Heck no. I’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

And with that, we resumed where we left off 70-some years ago.

Psychology Student’s Crazy New Roommate

It seemed like it was just yesterday when I first set foot on the campus. Now, I had my master’s degree and my plan was continuing along nicely. The plan was, is, to get my Phd, become a professor of psychology, right here at the university, get married, and spend the rest of my life happily researching and teaching psychology and raising a family.

The plan was nearly derailed by Sylvie.

So, upon graduating, my parents let me know there was no more money. After all, they weren’t wealthy. Far from it. Already, I supplemented what they provided with a student loan, which was already huge. No more dorm living, either, for reasons I won’t go into. Let’s just say that although I love this university, they do have some fucked up policies.

I was able to find work as a professor’s assistant, paying $17/hour, but you know California. One can’t make ends meet on that, especially when it’s part-time.

I found a little hovel. Well, some people would call it an apartment, but for two bedrooms it was small. It was what I could afford. The price was low enough, that I could charge 3/4 of the rent for a room, so it would be low-cost for me, which was exactly what I needed.

So I put an ad on Craigslist, expecting to get swamped with applicants. Nothing. I was shocked. I thought everyone was struggling for housing in California. I lowered the price to half of my rent. Finally, one applicant phoned me. A woman. I wasn’t expecting that.

In the dorm, my roommate, a sweet guy, Ron, was cool, and I knew how to room with guys. Early on, we learned to respect each others privacy, while also becoming the best of friends. For instance, we were totally cool with wanking in each other’s company. You know, when you get horned up, it is much nicer to be able to just do something about it, rather than trying to sneak off somewhere. I think it was helpful that we were both studying psychology. We knew how to communicate, and specifically to ask for what we wanted. And he wanted to wank, so he just came right out and asked whether it would be OK if he did so while I was studying, or whatever. Of course, I said ‘yes,’ even though it weirded me out a little.

The first few times, he did it after dark, under the covers. I think he was sort of embarrassed by the need. I didn’t do it at all at first. Or, I mean, sure I masturbated, but it was in the shower or when Ron was out, so no one could see me. But as time went on, we got bolder and bolder, until he might be studying, and I’d be looking at porn on my laptop and rubbing one out in plain daylight right there at my little desk.

I was already missing rooming with Ron.

When Sylvie called, my first inclination was to say ‘no,’ that I was expecting a man. But I was becoming desperate. It’s not like I could pay for this whole apartment month after month. Figuring it was a mistake, I talked with her on the phone a bit. She sounded alright. Nothing special. She, too, was going for a Phd in psychology, so we might have something fun to talk about.

I invited her over to continue the interview in person. She was a fucking knockout. Very small, like 5’1,” with curly blond hair, a skinny neck, and so far as I could tell under her sweater, very appealing breasts. But I shouldn’t think that way. One doesn’t let one’s thoughts just run amok after all.

There was nothing wrong with her. I had hoped she’d say she was a drug-user or something, so I could avoid the complication. On the other hand, I needed the money, so I decided a female roommate would be OK.

The next day, she was moved in. She didn’t own very much stuff. I helped her carry it in from her father’s borrowed pickup truck.

I figured it would take a few days to get settled in, used to each other. I’d make it a point not to think of her as sexy. I could imagine that would be disastrous.

We prepared and ate a few meals together. It was nice. We talked about psychology. I didn’t notice at first how she was bending the conversation. First, she was talking about family relationships. Then siblings. Then adolescents. Then masturbation – a common topic in psychology discussions. But then back to masturbation. Then to the complexities of sibling sexuality. Society’s taboos. How the world needs to be enlightened sexually.

Pretty soon I started to get downright frightened. This girl had sex more on her mind than a guy, and she was my roommate. What would she end up doing? Having orgies in our apartment?

I kept remembering how Ron and I jerked off in front of each other. Thank God this place had separate bedrooms with doors.

All was going well until I came back from the library one late afternoon, and she was watching Score, on her large computer monitor. It was a movie from the 1980s that has a lot of sexual scenes. Evidently two couples try splitting into the opposite formation. The two girls got together and the two guys got together. I have to admit, the scenes I happened to see were hot. I would definitely choke the chicken later. In the meantime, it struck me as entirely weird that a girl would watch something like that.

I have to admit, that in my four years of study, and in high school before that, I hadn’t had a girlfriend, so other than having an older sister, I didn’t really know much about girls. Funny that a psychologist wouldn’t know about a whole half of the world population, isn’t it?

I went about my business mostly in the kitchen until her movie was over. It took longer than it should, because she kept rewinding parts, especially this one section where the two guys are experimenting with blowjobs.

Afterward, Sylvie came into the kitchen and started in with a bunch of questions. She prefaced it by saying, “As a student of psychology…” which I totally fell for, at first.

“Do you like porn?”

“Do you find it interesting?”

“Does it make you horny?”

“What do you suppose ‘horny’ means, exactly?”

“Have you had any girlfriends?”

“Have you ever done anything with a guy?”

I tried to answer as truthfully as I could.

“Yes, I like porn and find it interesting, Yes, I suppose it does make me horny. I think horny means, well… horny. No girlfriends. I decided to focus on studying for now. But I do want to get married and have a family someday.”

The one about doing anything with a guy stopped me in my tracks. After a painfully long hesitation, in which I felt some unexpected shame, I told her about Ron. That we jerked off together in the dorm, but never touched each other or anything like that.

“So you never kissed a guy?”

“Fuck no,” I said, somewhat offended for some reason.

“And you never kissed a girl?”

“No, sorry, I’m just not an expert in that field.”

We both laughed.

I had started making an organic lasagne, which I thought she’d appreciate. One of the reasons that I did end up accepting her as a roommate is that she, like me, preferred organic, low-sugar meals.

She fell silent and helped me prepare the dinner, but oddly, she kept standing really close to me. I almost told her to step aside a couple of times when she got between me and the refrigerator, but I’m a tolerant guy. Plus, I didn’t realize what was going on.

As we ate, she announced something that floored me: She was going to focus her psychology studies on sexology. Her thesis would be in that field. Then, she said she wanted to learn all she could about it. Well, that made sense.

Then she said she wanted to have as much personal experience as she could. I nodded my head in agreement, then did a sort of double-take. What was she implying?

I pretended I didn’t suddenly understand. It was just too weird. I remembered a line from an old movie when someone said something way too personally sexual, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She said a few more things, but I couldn’t hear them. My head was swirling.

Seemingly out of nowhere, she raised her voice. Admittedly I hadn’t known her for long, but her almost-shouting shockingly brought me out of the swirl.

“Jake, are you listening?”

“Oh, um, sorry. You set my head in a spin.”

“So, do you want to?”

I probably didn’t have to ask, but I was so unclear at that point. “Tell me exactly what you’d like.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” and she gave me a little fake pout. It was kind of cute. “OK, so look. I’d like to get some sexual experience. You’re a guy, so I’m guessing you would also. So let’s experiment with sex.”

It had been a long time since I felt an effect like that had on me. Like a punch to the stomach. One that knocks the wind out of you, combined with a light-headed dizziness. I couldn’t have expressed it at that moment, but in retrospect, I felt a whole pile of emotions at once. Part of me said, “Yes!” Part of me was in absolute terror. And part of me was saying, “The script isn’t supposed to go like this. I’m supposed to meet a girl, fall in love, then we have sex. This is all wrong.”

You may think I’m an idiot, but I politely declined. I’m pretty sure it was the terror part that won out.

To Sylvie’s credit, she didn’t get mad, didn’t express disappointment, or anything of the sort. After a brief pause, she simply said, “I understand,” and then went on talking about something of little consequence in a study group she was leading. I couldn’t hear it. My mind was a mess again.

The next afternoon, she burst in around 3pm with a bag of vegetables, and dumped them on the kitchen counter about three feet from where I was washing dishes. “Hi,” she said, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed me on the cheek.

It wasn’t the first time I had been kissed by a girl, but it was the first that it wasn’t a cousin, or my mother. It had a surprising effect on me. I felt ‘wanted’ for lack of a better word. We all have egos, and that really did something nice for my ego. Another thing I couldn’t have explained at the time, but can now, is that I suddenly saw Sylvie in a new light. For just a split second, I glimpsed her as someone who was interested in me. That, therefore, made her interesting to me. Oh, I decided right from the start that she was sexually attractive, but until that very moment, I thought it was a hands-off relationship.

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