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Sword Swallower

I went to a vaudeville revival convention a few years ago. Dancers, musicians, jugglers, mimes, clowns, ventriloquists, comedians, and others attended. I fancied myself a bit of a magician, but it was more a hobby than a profession.

I didn’t know anyone, and I wasn’t even sure they’d let me in, but they welcomed me with open arms. Four days in, and I felt very accepted. I was becoming one of them, seemingly a big, happy, if somewhat weird international family. Most of the people knew each other from years and years back. They grew up in the business together. They’d meet at various theaters and so on. I noticed they were a very horny, sexual lot. There was frequent innuendo and outright sexual discussion. I gathered a lot of intercourse and other activities went on in the hotel rooms among these people.

So one night, a sword swallower, a guy named Jeremy Blue, was going to do a private show. I was invited, along with like a hundred other people. Everyone was saying that it was going to be a very unusual show, with something more than sword swallowing.

So, we’re all chit-chatting in the audience, when the curtain opens, and out comes Jeremy with a tray of various sword-like things.

True to form, he did some real geeky sword swallowing. Now, I’m not really a fan of such things. It’s not a magic trick. It’s real. Sword swallowers have trained their throats to accept foreign objects, and they really do stick metal things down through their esophagus right into the stomach. The thing that was cool, is this guy had a great onstage personality. He was truly funny. You didn’t have to like sword swallowing to enjoy his show.

Next, he did some things with fire. Putting out balls of fire in his mouth. Spitting flames, juggling three flaming balls.

Then, a hush came over the audience. Many of them evidently knew something I didn’t.

Jeremy started doing a striptease on the stage. I thought it was a joke, but he kept going until he had not a stitch on. Not only that, he was more naked than most, explaining that he didn’t have any hair except on the top of his head because it would interfere with his fire show tricks.

He proceeded to rub fire wands over his stomach, chest, and even his face. I couldn’t help noticing that he was growing an erection during this process. He seemed totally unabashed, like an erection on a stage in front of a hundred cheering performers was normal, an everyday occurrence. I was shocked, but somehow fascinated, maybe even delighted also. Now, I’m not gay, but I do appreciate the human body, whether male or female.

He stopped, lit what looked like a wad of cloth on fire, and held the flames under his balls for a very long time. I don’t know why that didn’t burn him. He put that out, and seemed to be done with fire.

Now, he grabbed one last implement from his tray. It looked like a miniature sword. He handed it to someone in the front row, and it was passed around. I got to touch it for a moment. It was indeed a miniature sword, about fifteen inches long, with an additional six inches of a small handle. The edges were not at all sharp. In fact, it was highly polished stainless steel in a sort of oval shape. Somewhat like the handle of a fork, but tapered toward a dull but pointy end.

The small sword came back to the stage, where Jeremy rubbed it with something. In a moment, the smell wafted from the stage down to us in the audience. It was rubbing alcohol. Then he rubbed it with something else, oil I assume. All the while, it never occurred to me what he might do with such a thing. I was too focused on his ongoing erection, which he had continued to ignore during this whole thing with the little sword. He continued to tell funny jokes. Then, he sat in a chair, and the whole crowd leaned forward to see better. A big TV screen lit up behind him, so we didn’t have to strain to see what he was going to do next.

And what he did, sent me into a masturbation frenzy back in my hotel room right after the show. He slowly stuck that sword into his peehole. Eventually all fifteen inches disappeared into his penis, while he was explaining how it felt going past his two sphincters. Did you know there are two urinary sphincters? I didn’t. One is voluntary, the other involuntary, he explained. He left it in a moment, then started masturbating with it buried all the way to the handle. He announced ‘I’m now orgasming.’ We could all see his muscles throughout his body tensing and we could see his penis and perineal area pulsing on the monitor, but nothing came out. He stayed stationary for a couple of minutes. It seemed to take quite a while for his orgasm to end. Then he slowly withdrew the little sword. When the tip came out of his peehole, it was followed by a couple drops of semen. He put on a robe, accepted his very enthusiastic applause with a big smile, and the curtain closed.

I’m no sword swallower, and I value my life, so I’m not going to experiment with Jeremy’s urethral trick, even though the thought has occurred to me. But I hear the urethra is very prone to infection, as well as physical damage, so I’ll stick with ordinary masturbation – while I replay in my mind what Jeremy did, thank you very much!


Like you, my wife has quit putting out. And she’s only 47 years old. Dang!

Well anyway, a week before my 48th birthday, she asked what I wanted.

I immediately said, “Sex.”

She got all huffy, then settled down, explaining for the millionth time, it was her ‘hormones.’

Whatever, right?

Then she asked, “What if I get you a surrogate?”

“You mean like a whore?”

“No, not at all. Maybe like a proper sex worker, or a therapist or something?”

We both fell silent, because even though the idea was certainly attractive, I couldn’t imagine any practical way it could work.

The discussion was forgotten. A week later, on the evening of my birthday, our niece LuLu was over for dinner. I was almost sullen. So far, my birthday had been uneventful, and the last thing I wanted to do was to have to sit down to dinner with this young girl with whom I had nothing in common other than her course of study.

She did seem more bubbly and sparkly-eyed than normal, which is saying a lot for her. She’s thin and naturally active, almost hyper-active.

We talked about her schooling. She was studying to be a psychologist. I felt honored in a way, because that is my profession, and I liked to think part of her decision to pursue psychology was due to me.

Then she floored me by announcing that she was planning to focus on sexuality. I almost choked on my bite of potato.

In her non-stop, active way, without hardly taking a breath, she went on to say that she’s a big advocate of sex as a way to heal many of society’s ills, and especially personal ills. She clarified, saying masturbation was one of the best outlets a person can allow themselves, and went on to expound on the benefits of wanking.

Despite our age difference, and my wife sitting right there with us, I became fascinated. And, I can admit, I felt a stirring in my pants, as I was imagining this young woman involved in the activities she was describing. Obviously, she must masturbate frequently, since that’s such a strong part of her belief system.

As I was pondering that, and LuLu stopped for an odd moment, my wife interjected, “So you like to masturbate a lot?”

“Oh, yes,” she freely admitted.

My wife didn’t stop there. Turning to me, “And you masturbate quite a bit too, don’t you?”

Geez! That was embarrassing. How does one answer that? But, figuring how forthcoming LuLu was being, I went ahead and admitted that I do wank quite a bit.

The conversation intensified, until finally, with my wife’s help, LuLu had us engaged in a game of strip poker. But it was just her and I. My wife then went into the den to watch TV or something.

I was naked first. Although embarrassed in a way, I was becoming OK with the fact that I was displaying an obvious erection to this young girl. Looking at those luscious tits, how could I resist?

I didn’t know where this was going, but of course I caught on early that it was my birthday, and this, being here with LuLu, was somehow my wife’s present to me. Furthermore, there was so much talk of masturbation that I pretty much knew I wouldn’t be fucking LuLu. Frankly, as pretty as she was, I didn’t really want to. But anything else would be absolutely OK with me.

She wanted to see our jetted tub. My wife and I have a big jetted tub in our bathroom, and before long, LuLu and I were luxuriating in the warm water. I started to follow her lead. She was rubbing her pussy with one hand while conversing with me. So, I started touching my flagpole of a penis.

We were laying in the tub facing each other. Me at one end, her at the other. Our legs overlapped, her feet coming almost to my crotch. After words of encouragement about how big my penis is (it’s only an average 6 inches), and how nice it looks (it’s just an average penis), she scootched forward a bit, and placed her feet gently against my balls, as I widened my legs as much as I could in the tub to allow her better access. She then started kind of grabbing my penis awkwardly between her feet. Finally, with only her feet, she jerked me off, until I released big jets of semen into the water. As I had one of the strongest orgasms of my life, she cheered. Before we left the tub, as my penis was reducing in size in post-orgasmic glow, right there in front of me, as if it was the natural thing in the whole world, LuLu rubbed herself to a series of strong orgasms.

Shortly after our bath, she went home. My wife welcomed me in bed with lots of kisses (but nothing else), and asked, “Did you like my gift?”

Unmet Naked Neighbor

I feel privileged to live on the top floor of a condo complex. It’s the 12th floor. You see, I have a sun room that the other apartments below me don’t have.

The place used to be referred to as “The Twin Towers,” but since 911, no one says that any more. I’d have a great view of the city, but the other tower is directly in front of my sun room, blocking the view. The condo directly across from me had been empty for the first year I lived there.

I had taken to experimenting with hydroponics and microgreens in my sunroom, sometimes just in my underwear. After a while, since no one had moved into the opposing apartment’s sunroom, I started working in my sunroom absolutely naked. It felt very freeing.

So there I was in my sunroom one day, replanting one of the trays, when I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye. There, in the sunroom across from me were some moving guys bringing in a Bowflex exercise machine. Oops! I got out of there in a hurry, and put on some clothes before I returned. When I came back, one of the moving guys grinned, and gave me a thumbs up. I was terribly embarrassed.

A couple of days later, harvesting a micro tray, while reflecting on what a loss it was that I wouldn’t be able to be naked in my own sunroom any more, I saw the new owner. She was a super-hot, kind of small, Asian chick. ‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘at least it will be fun to see her from time to time.’ She saw me and smiled. I smiled back.

Nothing much happened for the next couple of weeks. I tended my little farm, fully clothed of course. I saw the chick next door from time to time. She’d pop into her room for a minute or two, then leave. She didn’t seem to really use the room much. We waved, we smiled, and that was that.

She had set her place up as a sort of recreational place, I guess. I mean, she had a recliner, a sofa, and that Bowflex machine in there.

One day, I happened to see her moving around, and took a quick glance. She was wearing a string bikini, and working out on the Bowflex. Did I mention, she’s super-hot?

As usual, she waved, I waved, and that was that. Well, almost. Remembering the time the moving man gave my naked self a thumbs-up, without thinking it through, I gave her a thumbs up. She smiled big. Little did I know that must have set something off in her.

The reason I say that, is one night I popped into my sunroom for my iPad which I had left in there. Her lights were on low. I could just make her out on her Bowflex. She was topless! What beautiful tits! Olive skin, small, and firm, with perfectly little nipples. Oh, my god, she was bottomless, too! It was dark, but I could clearly see her neatly trimmed crotch hair between her legs.

I didn’t know what to do. It was pretty obvious I had seen her. After all, I had turned on my lights, so there’s no way she couldn’t have seen me seeing her. My first thought was to quickly leave the room and give her privacy. What stopped me is what she did next. She gave me a thumbs up! I did the only thing I could think to do, I smiled huge, like a cheesy, lecherous fool, and gave her a thumbs up back. What a fucking idiot! Then, I quickly turned out the light and left the room. I had forgotten my tablet, but no way was I going back for it.

You can bet I jerked off big-time remembering the sight.

The next day, I figured she’d be so embarrassed by what happened that I wouldn’t see her for a while, or she’d always be fully clothed from then on.

Not so. The next time I saw her was two days later, in the late afternoon when I came home from work. She was sitting on her Bowflex facing backward. She had brought up a TV tray and was working away on a laptop. But, here’s the thing: She was as naked as the day she was born. She looked up, saw me, smiled, and kept right on working, like nothing was wrong.

What does a good neighbor do in such a situation? I immediately left my sunroom. Sitting in my lining room, thinking about what had just happened, I was an incredible mix of emotions. I was sexually excited. I was embarrassed, as if it had been her seeing me naked. Or, was I embarrassed for having seen her? I couldn’t figure it out. But my feelings started to evolve. I just got kicked out of my own sunroom. And I had a tray of greens that was ready to trim. Overdue in fact. I was kind of upset. I wanted back into my sunroom, damn it!

It took me ten minutes to figure it out: I decided it was my sunroom, after all, and she was evidently some sort of exhibitionist. I mean, she had to know I’d see her eventually. I hadn’t thought that through. Sure, she wanted me to see her naked, or certainly, she wouldn’t have let that happen.

Oddly, my heart was racing as I reentered my little farm. She was still sitting there, working on her laptop. She smiled. I smiled. We both went about our own business.

This went on for literally two weeks. Every couple of days, I’d see her naked doing stuff in her sunroom. It had an effect on me. I wanked in my bedroom every time after seeing her.

Slowly it dawned on me that two could play at this game. One day I sheepishly showed up in my sunroom without a shirt. As usual, she smiled and I smiled, and we went about our business. Except for one thing. Holy smokes! She had removed all that black hair from her vagina!

Well, fast forward a couple more weeks. I had started showing up in my sunroom with just underpants, and finally, after feeling quite silly and everything else, I finally got up the balls to go in there naked. She saw me, and smiled, but no differently than usual. It was as if I had always worked in there naked.

A couple more weeks passed, and both of us, doing our things in our sunrooms fully naked became the norm. One time, feeling particularly horny, I started developing an erection in there. I thought about running out of the room, then decided ‘fuck it,’ and just continued refilling a tray, erection be damned. She certainly saw it, but gave no indication.

Now, me with erections was becoming common. It was her that took it to the next level. I came in one day, and saw her sitting on her sofa, which faced my room, by the way. She was naked, of course, but what was that I was seeing? I couldn’t believe it. She was rubbing her vagina with one hand, and squeezing a nipple with the other. There was no mistaking it! The second I arrived, she quit, and started to get off the sofa, as if she was going to run and hide. Instead, she settled back down, smiled at me, and resumed what she was doing, with one hand you know where, and the other squeezing her titty. She got caught, evidently at least partly intended, I’m sure, and now she was giving me a full-on show.

Well, when in Rome… My dick was already hard. I touched it while she stared right at me. At first I didn’t stroke, but then I did. Sheepishly, shyly at first, kind of wondering something like, ‘is this alright?’ Within a couple of minutes, I had approached the window, and was forcing my pelvis forward and ejaculating into one of my trays as she continued to rub herself, smiling big, and watching me intently. As soon as I came, she tensed all up, and I could tell she was having a super-strong orgasm.

This has turned into a regular thing with us. We don’t always jerk off in front of each other, but have done it at least a dozen times during the past couple of months.

Yesterday, she held up a big piece of paper against the window. Written on it was, “My name is Lanie. What’s your name?” We ended up exchanging phone numbers. I’m going to phone her this afternoon. For some reason, I’m freaking out, in a good way. My heart is beating a million beats per minute just thinking about it.

Strange Family

I grew up in the craziest family I know, and the funny thing is, for a long time, I thought we were normal.

Well, I knew my moms were unusual from an early age. Most families have a mother and father. My moms are not only lesbian, but they are sisters. Twin sisters.

They decided to adopt children. Four children to be exact, all at the same time, and all the same age. Our moms went to Eastern Europe, toured around a bit, and found the four of us at an orphanage. We were three years old. They filled out the paperwork, and the next thing you know, we’re in America learning English.

We are two boys, and two girls.

Now, let’s get to the sex part. Our moms encouraged us to be sexually expressive from an early age. They said that many good psychological and physical things spring from healthy sexual appetites. They should know. Mom Kate is a dermatologist, and Mom Laurie is a psychiatrist.

Specifically, as soon as we got the birds and the bees speech, we were also encouraged to masturbate as much as we wanted. Maybe even more than we wanted. Beyond that, we were left on our own. Our parents didn’t participate. Evidently the two of them had plenty of sexual activity of their own.

So the four of us got together from time to time and we masturbated. At first it was like masturbation in any family, I assume. We’d talk about the day’s events, friends, school while all sitting or laying around naked in the living room and wanking.

I enjoyed seeing my brothers’ cocks getting hard, and then the stuff squirting out.

As time went on, we found ourselves in a rigid schedule. We’d get together in the living room after dinner on Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. It just evolved. No one set out to have a schedule. Well, maybe our moms guided it or suggested a schedule. I don’t know.

We started masturbating each other. The first time I touched the cock of my brother Leo, I was in heaven. If I remember correctly, while I was making him cum that first time, I had an orgasm while touching his cock, not my own pussy. A spontaneous orgasm.

Then another thing evolved. I seem to recall it was our moms who suggested it: We should start practicing various sexual techniques. They told us about all kinds of crazy stuff – our moms have always been open that way. They told us about peegasms, edging, multiple orgasms, anal stimulation, and more.

We each picked something to work on.

In my case, it was inner labia pulling. I get plenty wet when aroused, so it is very difficult to pull my inner labia since they are so slippery. That’s part of what makes it fun. So over and over every time we’d get together, I’d have one of my brothers pull my inner labia as best he could while my sister and other brother would massage my feet and my nipples at the same time. My gosh, I had great orgasms!

Kyle especially liked the that a boy can have orgasms without ejaculating. He really wanted to learn how to have this thing happen where his urethra would contract as if ejaculating just once, but nothing would come out. He wanted to get these single contractions every minute or so. He organized us like the director of a movie. It was impressive how he had everything figured out.

He laid down on a sheet on the carpet in the middle of our living room. I was to jerk him off, but every time he said “wait,” I had to stop for a minute. My sister Jen was to be the monitor. She’d place a finger in his butt to feel for the orgasmic contractions. And Leo was to massage Kyle’s balls.

And that’s what we did that first time. It went off without a hitch. Sort of. When he was approaching orgasm, Kyle said “wait.” I did, but a moment later he started ejaculating all over the place. Jen was delighted to report that she did indeed feel the contractions squeezing his anus rhythmically around her finger.

We did the same thing for weeks, until Kyle became so good at it that he could have a single urethral contraction, and not cum, over and over again. Finally, he’d let go and splash cum all over the place.

My other sister and brother had their own sexual exercises with which we helped them. If there’s sufficient interest, I’ll tell you all about those exercises, and the many other things we did as a family.

To bring this to a close, I should mention that our moms put all four of us through medical school. We all chose our own specialty. All four of us are married in the normal sense, and have kids of our own now. We love our moms, and are thankful for such a spectacular, intelligent and loving upbringing, but we’ve all decided to be somewhat more conventional.

Son’s Phimosis

One day, when my son, Luke, was home from college for a two-month break, he and I were sitting in the dining room having a casual mother-son conversation. He asked whether sex is supposed to be painful. I knew he had been having sexual relations with a young lady, and was fine with it. He’s old enough, he’s responsible, and I trust him to make good decisions. It’s me who doesn’t always make the best decisions.

I almost cried when Luke asked about sex being painful. You see I knew from my son’s earliest times that he may have a problem with phimosis. That’s where the foreskin can’t retract fully. It makes keeping the penis clean difficult, and it can cause pain on intercourse. My husband had to be circumcised as an adolescent due to phimosis.

I felt terrible, because on several occasions when doctors advised me to have Luke circumcised, I just couldn’t do it. Especially after my husband told me that when he was cut, it took many painful weeks to heal. I figured at the age of 20, it would be terribly embarrassing, painful, and inconvenient for Luke. You see, I had just hoped it might go away.

In his adolescence, I tried to recommend stretching exercises, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t even let me finish the conversation the few times I brought it up.

Now, I knew we had a problem. I talked with Luke earnestly right there at the dining room table. I let him know my thoughts about his whole phimosis problem, even that I felt bad for not having him circumcised. He let me know that he was aware of his condition, and even my feelings about it.

“Mom,” he said, “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen to me. I don’t want it now, either. I’ve read of some exercises…”

I didn’t bother to remind him that I already tried to get him to do those exercises years earlier.

He announced he’d start right away, and went upstairs. Presumably, Luke went to his room to get erect and start stretching the foreskin. I know it’s crazy, being his mother and all, but the thought of him doing that up there made me horny. Of course I didn’t do anything about it.

A week later, I asked, “How are the exercises going?”

“Huh? Oh, I forgot all about it.”

Shit. “OK, why don’t you start now?”

“I guess I should.”

A week later, I asked again, and he sheepishly admitted he still hadn’t started. I was surprised how angry that made me. Here he was not enjoying sex, and not doing anything about it. He didn’t want surgery, but that’s exactly where he was headed. Perhaps it was the anger that provoked me to say, “Luke Albert Whitfield, pull your pants down right now.”

He looked like a deer in the headlights. If I wasn’t still angry, I would have laughed.

Thinking more clearly, I commanded, “Well, not here. Come to my bedroom.”

He’s an obedient son, so he followed me to my bedroom. I locked the door so my daughter couldn’t come in, had him strip and lay face up on our big king bed. He was very reluctant. I can’t say as I blame him. I hadn’t seen his little willie since he was in diapers. I was surprised to see how big and hairy it was now. I guess as a mother, one always imagines their children as little boys and girls.

I pulled my dressing chair alongside the bed, and grabbed that penis of his, examining the tight foreskin.

“That tickles,” he giggled.

“Deal with it.”

I was forming a plan of action. I’d do the exercise for him, since he wasn’t doing them himself. I started pulling the foreskin down, but of course nothing was happening with his penis being soft. I knew what to do, and decided I’d have to remain entirely clinical about this. I couldn’t allow the feelings that were boiling up in my lower belly, and you know where.

I got up, went into my office, and returned with a soft little paint brush. I waved it back and forth over his penis, over the frenulum area, until the bristles was just touching his penis. His penis jumped a little bit each time the brush touched it. I knew the effect. This always works very well with Dan, his father, if I want him erect.

Soon enough, my boy was hard. Not quite as big as Dan, but respectable. Very respectable. Actually, it was kind of hard to compare, with that foreskin covering everything up like it was.

My boy was totally embarrassed, but I told him to forget it. I reminded him that I had diapered him. He was like, “Well, you’ve never seen me like this.”

“Oh, you mean erect? Luke, I hate to tell you, but little boys get erections, too. I’ve seen everything. Don’t you worry.”

I went to work, pulling down on the foreskin, holding it for ten seconds, just like the exercises are supposed to be done, then letting go so it can relax for a minute. A couple times I pulled too hard, and he was like, “Ouch, Mom!” but I knew ‘no pain, no gain.’

After ten repetitions we were done. He couldn’t get back into his clothes and out of there fast enough. He disappeared into his room. I’ll bet he jerked off. I know I wanted to do some serious jilling, but I was already late getting dinner ready for Dan and the kids.

The next day at 4pm, I commanded Luke to come back to my bedroom. He anticipated, and walked across the house naked. His sister saw him, but said nothing. I don’t know whether they had communicated about his ‘treatments’ or not.

It didn’t take as long to get him hard. We did the exercises. He stayed hard, and walked back across the house, again in front of his sister in the living room. Was he showing off his naked body and his erection? I didn’t care to think about it.

Next day, same thing, except his sister wasn’t home. He was hard when he arrived in my room.

“Mom,” he said, “These exercises are kind of fun.”

“Don’t you get any crazy ideas.”

“Oh, no, no way, nothing like that!” he assured me evidently as shocked as I was at the thought.

The exercises continued for a couple of weeks. I was proud of my diligence. Seldom in my life have I stuck with anything. That’s why I’m twenty pounds overweight. Diets last about 3 days with me.

On this occasion, as I was on about the eighth stretch, I felt something weird. A kind of pulsing. I knew almost immediately that my boy was ejaculating in my hands.

He groaned, “Oh, Mom!”

I knew from Dan that men don’t like unfinished business. I mean, they hate ruined orgasms, so I did what came so naturally to me. I stroked him as he was cumming, so he could finish his orgasm properly. I immediately regretted it. Had I gone too far?

Feeling guilty, the next day, I told him he had to finish doing the exercises himself. He was in agreement. In fact, he even admitted he had been doing the exercises twice a day. Once with me, and once by himself. “They feel really, really good,” he admitted.

That was a year ago. Those darn exercises really work! He came to me a few days ago, and proudly showed me how far he’s come along. Of course that required an erection, but he had no problem rubbing himself to hardness in front of his own mother.

Five minutes later, I was in my bedroom masturbating myself like crazy, and having the strongest series of orgasms I’ve had in a very long time.

Small and Skinny

Being small and skinny turns out to be a huge advantage.

In my adolescent yers, I was very concerned. I pretty much knew I’d be small, since both of my parents are short and skinny. I wasn’t concerned about losing fights, or being teased by other boys. I was concerned about not having sexual relationships. You see I’m a horndog. As to people teasing or getting aggressive because they think they can pick on a small guy, my karate skills, which I’ve been studying since I was eight years old, take care of that very nicely. My sensei teaches that one never starts fights, but one can end them, sometimes rather spectacularly. Oh, I never hurt anyone, but humiliating big guys who thought they could humiliate me is fun.

But, I’m getting off-topic. I’ve jerked off imagining all sorts of sexual relationships since before I could remember. Before I could cum. I just enjoyed the feeling of stroking my hard little penis. In fact, I’ve enjoyed just walking around with an erection. I’ve always been an exhibitionist. We weren’t a nude household, but let’s just say I’ve been seen by my brother, sisters, mother and father in an erect state on several occasions.

Sorry, I’m getting off-topic again. So the point is, I figured being small like this, I’d be pretty much excluded from sexuality. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I can’t tell you how many people have come up to me insinuating that they’d like to play. They want to see if my dick is small like I am. I’ll show them, because I know what comes next. It always does, and it’s both from guys and girls. I don’t care. I’m happy with either sex.

So, my dick and my balls are actually small. To enhance the effect I keep that area hairless. Being Asian, I’m pretty much hairless everywhere else except down by my ankles, anyway.

After they see it, they want to touch it. Oh, I’m so happy with that! Sometimes they want to suck it. Then, many of them want to get all sexual. I’m not into that. They’ll have to be satisfied with what I’m willing to do. If anyone gets crazy, although it’s never happened yet, I know karate!

I suppose all these shared handjobs are a phase. I’ll probably find me a nice wife and have a family someday. I hope my kids grow up to be as lucky as I am.

Mr. Slocum

Letting out a single drop of semen

I met a guy named Mr. Slocum. Now, I realize it is not right to make fun of people’s names, and I would never do anything to hurt this guy, or anyone else, but privately, I got to thinking about his name. Slocum. Slow cum. Hmmm…

It got me to thinking that maybe I could do that. I mean, cum slowly. What would happen if one let himself do that? Of course I had to give it a try.

During the next few weeks, I jerked off several times, with the goal of letting the semen flow out very slowly. I never managed to do that.

Then, last Thursday, I got together with my friend Frederick who hates being called “Fred.” It’s got to be “Frederick.” Otherwise, he’s a rather gregarious almost wild man. Young, bearded, thin and tall. Did I say young? He’s 22 years younger than me. What he finds attractive in this old coot, who knows, right? But somehow, he really enjoys wanking with me.

After we had been playing for an hour, but not yet having ejaculated, I told him about the slow cumming idea, and he was like, “You mean like this?” He then proceeded to jerk himself in earnest. Just as he was starting to orgasm, he let go of his dick, and there was a ten-second delay, as untouched, his penis started bobbing up and down. Then, literally only three of four drops of cum slowly oozed out, down the side of his shaft, and settled on his scrotum.

I figured that was pretty cool, but the show wasn’t over yet. He did it again, and some more cum flowed out. This time, there was quite a bit, and it continued flowing out like an ongoing lava flow for several seconds. The trick, he explained, is to let go of the penis just as one is orgasming. The orgasm will be somewhat weaker, and only a little semen will escape. But here’s the trade-off for the weaker orgasm: You get to have several orgasms in a row. This is somewhat like an extension of the ‘ruined orgasm’ effect in which just as a guy is cumming, all stimulation is stopped. It’s a frustrating, yet delightful feeling.

After that second slow cum, he asked me to jerk him off. I tried to do the same slow cum for him that he had done for himself. That didn’t really work. His third orgasm, under my administration, was a full blown ejaculation, and he was done for the evening.

But not before he did me. He asked me to be very communicative as I laid on my back. He wanted me to tell him how I was feeling at every moment. As an orgasm started to build, I let him know to the best of my ability what was happening at every step of the way. To my, well almost shock, just as I hit the point of no return, he let go of my cock. My orgasm continued to build, and ten seconds later, just like I had seen him do, after bobbing up and down for a little while, a small amount of semen came out. He let me calm down for a moment, then he started wanking me again, and moments later, I had a full orgasm. Oh, what fun! He and I plan to practice this some more, and see just how far we can take it, tomorrow evening.

I highly suggest you play with this slow cum idea yourself or grab a friend, literally.

Our Family Sheltering In Place

This is not their house, but it’s similar

We decided it might be a good to pack up the kids and visit Jimmy’s parents. They’re not exactly elderly, but headed in that direction. We figured, since the kids are home from college, love their grandparents, and everyone in our family was out of work and out of school, and since they have a big house, off we went.

The first couple of days, the six of us played some Monopoly, watched a few movies, all the usual stuff.

My daughter and my mom got together in the kitchen and whipped up some great stuff.

Then, we all started to get bored. My son suggested we play a variation of truth or dare. My thought was that it’s a kid’s game, but what else was there to do? We rotated around, and whoever’s turn it was to say something, all six of us, including the one who suggested the thing, had to do it.

When it was Jim’s turn, he said, “Tell us a secret.”

My daughter admitted kissing her latest boyfriend. That didn’t shock me in the slightest. In fact, I was surprised she hadn’t done more with him. Or, maybe she did?

Jim’s dad admitted having but not acting on bisexual interests. We were all stunned into silence, except Jim’s mom. She didn’t seem as stunned as the rest of us.

Then, she admitted her secret, that she knew about Jim’s dad being bisexual.

My son tried to ask for details, but Jim shushed him.

Now it was his turn. My son had to admit a secret. He hesitated, then he blushed quite deeply, then he finally blurted out, “I masturbate.”

I think to offer solidarity, Jim’s dad, said “So do I.”

My daughter jumped into the fray, “So do I.”

Now I was shocked. Of course she did, but I never thought about it before. Oddly, in my mind, I tried to picture it, while feeling an unexpected sexual twinge in my own vag.

I don’t know what came over me, but when it was my turn to reveal a secret, I said, “I’ve always felt that masturbation should be more in the open.”

“That’s not a secret,” my son blurted.

Jim’s mom said, “Sure it is. Would you openly admit a thing like that?”

Well, one thing led to another, and pretty soon, we were all talking, surprisingly openly, about masturbation.

My son turned to Jim’s dad at one point and said, “You still do it?”

“All the time.”

“But you’re married.”

I added, “I read somewhere that married people actually masturbate more than singles.”

When it was my son’s turn to state a request, he said, “Tell the truth, how many times a day do you wank?” I winced at his use of the term wank, but that was pretty hypocritical at that point, wasn’t it?

Jim answered first. “At least once a day.” I didn’t even realize that.

I said, “A couple times a week.”

My daughter said, laughing, “At least twice a day.”

My son had to top it, “Three times a day.”

Jim’s mom said, “Once every week or two.”

The game continued. I think everyone knew what was coming.

To my surprise, Jim’s mom was more into the spirit than I thought. Her request: “Remove an item of clothing.”

That was a good idea, because it was pretty warm by the fireplace.

A half hour later, the whole family was stark naked. My heart was beating fast. This was so weird, but in a way, it felt like very important and good ground-breaking. Both men and my son were sporting erections.

Shortly thereafter, of all people, Jim’s mom made the request we were all secretly waiting for: “Masturbate yourself for one minute.”

We all happily complied. The only thing is, after one minute, no one stopped. Well, my son did. He squirted cum all over himself, the way a boy his age will. Premature ejaculation is common at that age as I understand it.

Seeing that, Jim’s mom arched her back, moaned loudly, started convulsing, and orgasmed hard. Really hard! When I saw that, a certain solidarity came over me, and I orgasmed even harder, which drove my husband over the edge. My daughter came last, but loudest, and she had a seemingly endless series of orgasms in a row. I wished I could do that!

It’s been days now, we’re still sheltering in place, but the attitude in the house has changed. There’s more politeness. More consideration. More love. I had been concerned that my children have been a bit piggish. A bit self-centered, as kids that age can be, but lately, they’ve been just adorable in their attitudes. We’ve masturbated together every evening now. Some of us have even taken to masturbating just around the house while watching TV, for instance. I saw my son openly masturbating in the recliner in front of the TV right in front of his parents and grandparents. I was proud of him.

Tonight my husband has suggested we start things off with a game of strip poker. Everyone is enthusiastically looking forward to that.

Shower Exhibitionist

I saw what you wrote about the guy who had a college roommate who jerked off in front of him all the time. Who is it?

[I’m not going to say.]

Come on, I probably know him. I might have seen him in your waiting room, right?

[You know I can’t reveal that!]

Well anyway, it made me remember a time that I felt the same way. Like, “Oh, if only I was as bold and free as that guy.”

You see, our YMCA is old-school. I mean the shower room isn’t individual stalls the way they are in most modern buildings. We have a large tiled square room with like six shower heads along each wall. You walk up to one, turn it on, and shower in front of all the guys. No big deal right?

But one day, just this one time, there was a guy in there I hadn’t seen before. He was young. My age, maybe 26. He was tall, thin and had longish black hair. Well the thing about him, and he started off normally enough – soaping up his hair, his shoulders, his underarms, working his way down to his feet. Then he rinsed all the soap off. I thought nothing about it, although I glanced over from time to time.

Oh, I’m not gay, or at least not very much, but I do check the guys out, especially the good-looking ones. And, sometimes the older gents. There’s something about a gray-haired man that makes you respect him and want to know him, and something more. He’s kind of attractive in a way. I mean, a little bit.

Well anyway, this young guy finishes rinsing off, and I figured he’d walk right past me to get his towel. I always take a shower head near the entrance, so people have to walk right past me. So maybe I’m a bit more gay than I care to admit. [He laughs.]

But he stayed under the water spray. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He started playing with his cock. Right there in front of everyone. There were about four other guys in the room, plus me, and we all had a clear view of this guy.

Pretty soon he was jerking off in earnest. His penis was fully erect, and after a couple of minutes, he was rocking up on his toes, convulsing – you could see his calf muscles working, and ejaculating into the drain at his feet.

Then, he turned off the shower, walked past me, got his towel and left.

We, me and the other guys in the shower room, we kind of know each other a little bit, and we often have brief conversations in the shower. Not this time. We were shocked. No one said a word.

The guy had made a bit of eye contact with each of us, but nothing more, except when he walked past me, like when he was just three feet (one meter) away, he winked at me and smiled.

I’ve never seen him since. However, for the next several months, I was a very dedicated gym member. I was exercising 4 or 5 times a week. My wife thought my new fitness craze was good for me, but missed my company. I kept hoping to see him again, but nothing.

I have no idea what would have happened had he come back. Would he have repeated the performance? Would I, or anyone else there, copy him? Would we possibly even get more involved? You hear about blowjobs in public showers and all that. But maybe most of all, I’d like to have known his story. Why did he do that? Was he an exhibitionist? Did he think it was normal? Was he making a statement?

I guess I’ll never know. But here’s the thing: I keep thinking someone has to carry on in his tradition. I mean, what if I jerked off in the shower at the Y? Wouldn’t that be a great and interesting thing to do? I’m sure no one would ‘bust’ me or anything. I could just do it, and see what happens. And yet I haven’t, and probably never will.

Show and Tell

Masturbating at show and tell high school

I was eighteen at the time and living where I grew up, a town of 70 people in the desert, Roland, California. Because the town was so small, our school had 15 students at all levels from age 13 to 18, mixed together in a single classroom. It was called junior-senior high school. Our teacher, Mrs. Baker, somehow managed to teach everything from basic reading to pre-calculus in that classroom. It was like a three-ring circus all the time, but she kept it interesting for everyone.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have been such a rebel. But that’s what I was. Maybe it’s because my dad left when I was three years old, leaving my mom to fend for the two of us by herself with no money. She had worked as a waitress at the only restaurant in town, until the owners retired. Now, she owns the place. I’m very proud of her.

Maybe it’s because, according to Mrs. Baker, I’m very intelligent. Too intelligent. So, I’m always doing rebellious things. Like when I stole a neighbor’s car a couple years ago for a joy ride. Joe Thurber, our sheriff, threw me in jail overnight. Right, I was only 12 at the time, but he did it with my mom’s permission, and I guess you can do things like that in a small town.

I’m not a bad kid. I’m empathetic and would never hurt anyone. But still, I’ve got this rebellious streak I’ve got to work on.

So Mrs. Baker had another show-and tell, which we do once a month. It’s typical. The kids bring in pet frogs, or show how they learned to knit, or present a watercolor they made. So what did I bring? Me. I had a plan that I thought would rattle everyone up quite nicely.

When it was my turn to present, I came up to the front of the class, and had everyone’s attention. They know I’ll always do something crazy. I said, “I’m going to show you something I discovered that I find very enjoyable, and seems to calm me.”

Without another word, and without hesitation, because I think wearing clothing is stupid on a warm day when you don’t need protection from anything, I just pulled down my pants right in front of everyone. During the past few minutes, thinking about what I was about to do, got me very sexually excited. I already had a boner. Being a late bloomer, there was no hair down there yet. Or, correction, there were like three scraggly hairs. I was a bit embarrassed about that, but on the other hand, being the rebel I am, embarrassment about something like late development has little importance in the big picture.

I had decided I’d masturbate to ejaculation right there in the class. How cool is that, right? It would be breaking a taboo that should be broken, don’t you think?

Mrs. Baker ran to the front of the room, stood right in front of me, and told me to pull my pants back up immediately. She wasn’t mad. I’ve never seen her get mad at anyone. She has a way of being disappointed that cuts to the bone. I was immediately ashamed, and pulled my pants back up. Fuck. Plan spoiled! I was almost immediately terribly disappointed in myself and ashamed. What a stupid plan it had been.

She told me I had to stay 10 minutes after school and clean the whiteboard. She then gave us a short lecture about modesty which in my opinion didn’t make any sense, then after two more show-and-tell presentations, we got back to normal activities. I think I was red in the face for a good hour afterward and couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

After school, many of us students met in the park next to the school as we always do. I almost decided to go straight home and cry about what had happened. But, I’m a rebel. I had to show up at the park as if nothing had happened. I approached the group already there with great trepidation. They’d probably mock me, or worse, they might tell me how stupid that was.

Like walking a gangplank, I approached slowly. Jamie waved, and said loudly, “Wow, how cool was that?” with a look of great admiration. Sandra said, “Great Willie, I want to see it again.” And, Tom piped in, “I wish Mrs. Baker hadn’t stopped you.”

Then Tom asked, “Were you really going to wank right there in front of us?”

I sheepishly admitted that I had planned to.

Almost in unison, the group said, “Cool.”

It took a few minutes, but my shame was starting to transmute, I was becoming proud of my bold, if incomplete attempt.

There in the park, with no adults around, the conversation turned to masturbation, with several of us admitting we did it regularly, and then some saying they wish they were bold enough to do it in front of others. Finally, we arranged a time that we would all go to the old barn, get naked, and all jerk off together.

We did! All but two of the kids showed up. I’ll tell you about that another time.

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