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Handjobs

 

By Chris Carr

Copyright © May, 2003

 

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Ever had a good handjob? No, really ? I mean a real good, howling at the rafters, body wrenching, ball busting, fist job? Well, it’s not something I like to brag about, but when it comes to sending a dude into sheer nirvana, I’ve become pretty good. Guess all those times whacking off my friends paid off, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I think it started with Melvin, the buck toothed kid from around the block. You see, having a pool in your backyard tends to make you something of a celebrity, at least among teenage boys. As word spread, our popularity increased and boys were literally coming out of the woodwork. Tall boys, short boys, fat boys, skinny boys, cute boys and of course, the ugly ones too. Melvin wasn’t exactly what I’d call ugly, he just wasn’t that cute. A rather dark complexioned boy, he had curiously shiny skin that glistened in the summer sun, and his mouth seemed crammed full of teeth. As if competing for space, they bulged his cheeks in an almost chipmunk fashion and his two front teeth were unusually large, giving the impression that they were bucked.

He was gangly, his arms awkwardly dangling from his sides and he had skinny legs and big feet that seemed destined to find every rock to trip over. He was such a Melvin. But my best friend Lyle loved him, the two of them enjoying endless wrestling matches. It was the only time Melvin wasn’t awkward. His scrawny body suddenly agile, he’d twist and contort around Lyle, miraculously triumphing to pin his squirming form to the ground. He even managed to coerce me into a round or two.

"Whasa-matter Sonny?" He’d taunt, those two front teeth gleaming, "You scared?"

It was the teen kryptonite, an attack on one’s fragile manhood. Across the yard we’d scrap, Melvin’s wiry frame aptly assisting him. To my surprise, though I was older, and bigger, he was quite strong, almost pinning me to the ground at times, but I’d find a stronghold and hold on until we both conceded a tie. I hated contorting and sweating in the grass like that, it was so primitive. For some reason, it seemed a right of passage for teenage boys though and I couldn’t always avoid it.

Melvin would twist into pretzels with Lyle, with the boys next door, probably the mailman, had he took him on. It was just one more reason I hated Melvin, his smug, self-aggrandizing aside. Which is why when Lyle mentioned his wanting to join our "club", I almost went into shock. While I made no allusions to Lyle’s obvious naïveté over the sensitive nature of this petition, I found myself actually getting excited. Heck, at that age, a chance to see anyone’s dick could excite me but Melvin?

 

 

 

 

Some time after all the boys started showing up to swim in our pool, I found myself ‘swimming’ through a myriad of dick peeping opportunities. Peeping led to touching, which led to exploring which, eventually, led to my "club". I got the idea one night while brainstorming on a way to see more dicks. Well jeez, by that time, I was a true addict!

What if word got out that Sonny had a club? Boys like belonging to clubs, I reasoned, hoping that my idea would spread so rapidly, even the most reluctant boy would venture a quick sexual encounter, just to avoid exclusion.

To my delight, my plan worked and as boys quietly started inquiring about membership, I’d suddenly be presented with another dick encounter. Mostly I’d have them drop their pants until they got hard, but on many occasions, the environment was just ripe for something more. Sometimes the boy needed help getting it up and I’d take that opportunity to finger his sluggish tool. Then there was the occasional boy that, before he could get his freshly washed briefs open, his dick would be straining so hard at the white fabric, it’d make a tented impression. I loved those instances best as there was no telling where things could go from there.

 

I guess it was word of this same club that had somehow reached Melvin, prompting him to ask Lyle about joining. But while I was excited about another chance encounter with a new boy, I had to take into account which boy I was considering this time.

"Did you tell him what it took to get in?" I asked, the following day. Lyle nodded his head yes. "But he can’t be gettin’ all stupid," I cautioned. "Uh huh," Lyle acknowledged but I wasn’t totally convinced.

It was with some anxiety we finally met, a couple of days later. Melvin had agreed to an ‘interview’ and, late that afternoon, he stopped by. He Lyle and I chatted for a couple of seconds then I told Melvin that if he wanted to, we could go to the ‘clubhouse’.

The clubhouse was really the pool cabana, a renovated shed that guest used as a dressing room. Mom and dad used it for temporary storage at times so there were some old boxes in there which we used as seats. As soon as we got inside, I locked the door and we both pulled up a box/seat. Melvin’d become very quiet since we’d left the house and his expression had darkened. His head down, he stared somberly at his feet.

"Well," I finally said.

"Well?" He returned, those steely eyes of his glinting.

"See, just what I thought," I said, feeling rather disappointed.

"What?"

"Man, you the one told Lyle you wanted to join."

"I didn’t tell Lyle I wanted to join, he asked me if I wanted to."

"But… he said…" I looked toward the house, wondering just what was up. "Then… do you?"

"What I gotta do?"

"Man, I thought Lyle said he’d told you. You tryin’ to be funny or something?"

"Dang, Sonny, I told you, Lyle ain’t told me nothing, ‘cept, you got a club and do I wanna join?"

"I’m goin’ to get that rat," I swore under my breath. I looked at him, contemplating the risks. "So…you want in or not?"

"I guess," Melvin said, hunching his shoulders.

"Then I gotta see if you really mean it. Stand up." Melvin hesitated, then finally stood. "You got to really want to get in though," I stressed.

"Ok."

"O..K… what?" I said.

"Ok, whatever," He consented. My heart pounding in my chest, there was a crashing sound outside on the patio that caused me to almost leap out my seat. Melvin and I stared at each other, wondering if it was just a cat or what, but I was so excited over his offer, I didn’t stop to investigate.

"In that case…. take your pants down," I blurted.

Melvin’s eyes bucked, and there was a tense moment as he stared at me. "This what everybody did?" he contested.

"Yeah," I hurriedly affirmed. He stared at me another long, uncomfortable minute, then reached down and unfastened his pants. Staring straight at me, he pulled them down, revealing his clean, tighty-whiteys, and smooth, spindly legs.

"Now your shorts." Blink, blink.

"Man, David did this?" He challenged. I blinked, searching for a response. "I can’t tell you what the other members did but, this what it take to get in," I pressed, hoping it was enough.

Following another prolonged silence, he eventually hooked his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his briefs and slowly lowered them, just below his robin’s egg sized balls. Savoring the moment, I gazed in wonder, the neighborhood’s most unlikeliest candidate standing in my clubhouse, his dick out. Captivated, I gulped, temporarily forgetting what we were doing.

"And?" Melvin said, snapping me back.

"And…uh… Oh! K’, you almost there. Now…" I hesitated, wondering if I should press my luck or just thank my lucky stars. I mean hey, I’d got Melvin to pull his pants down and show his dick. He stared at me, awaiting my next command, his flaccid dick snapped close to his groin.

"Uh… now… now, you have to get it hard,"

 

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