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My Sheltered Life

 

By Chris Carr

 

Copyright © Nov, 2010

 

 

 

 

I didn’t hear about jacking off until I was almost a sophomore. With a religious mom and hardline dad, mine was a sheltered life. 

Between chores, music lessons and church, there was little time for, shall we say…. exploration. I guess I was what you’d call a late bloomer. I didn’t notice the first hairs ‘down there’ until my mid-teens. And while it intrigued me, time didn’t afford me the luxury to examine further.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all bad. Once my chores were done I was free to roam. I loved riding my bike around our neighborhood. The area we lived in was somewhat hilly and streets were built on inclines and rolling declines. Even the street I lived on had a slight incline that me and my buddies would race down.

There was choir practice (I played for the kid’s choir), piano lessons and just plain old fun with my buddies, Gary and DJ. But this isn’t a "buddy" story, per se. As I said, I didn’t hear about jacking off until I was almost a sophomore....

 

 

 

What happens when a shy, church-boy hooks up with a tough, streetwise teen?   

 

 

 

I was walking down an alley, not really paying attention when I nearly stumbled over Ray Anthony Robinson. A tall, almond brown boy, I knew him from school. Pushed up close to a wooden fence, he was taking a leak, a cigarette dangling from his lips. I’d seen Ray Anthony around school several times, most of times hanging with the thuggish guys but never really paid him much attention.   

He looked up at me, his willy sticking out his pants, a steady stream pouring against the red cedar fence. Glimpsing some hairs from his pubic patch, I noted they were orangish-brown like the fuzzy patch of hair on his head. I don’t know how long I stood there staring but he never stopped peeing.   

Smoke curled up from his cigarette, his eyes squinting against the fumes, then he stopped peeing. Spitting his cigarette towards me, he turned and started peeing again. The yellow arc ended just in front of me, dashing the smoke of his cigarette out. I followed that arc back up to his willy and I could feel my face flushing.   

His peter was bigger than mine, the light almond colored shaft dangling from his low hanging jeans. The head a nice mushroom shape, it was proportionate to his willy. My heart pounded in my ears and something inside my head said I should leave but I couldn’t.   

“You got a dollar?” He said, shaking the last drops from his willy. I shook my head, still staring at it.

“Fifty cents?” Still staring at his thing, I reached in my jeans. When I handed him the two quarters he thanked me as he tucked his willy back in his jeans. Pulling his pants up, he spit on the ground then walked off.

.

 

 

 

Will it go bad for him?

 

 

I was walking down that fateful alley, some weeks later and low and behold, there was Ray Anthony. A cigarette dangling from his lips, he was slumped against a fence.

"Sup, young G?" He called, facing me. A bit concerned, I wondered if things had changed. Was he through being my buddy and had decided it was time to beat my ass?

Swallowing, I returned his greeting. 

"Where you headed?"

 

 

 

Or will he make a new friend?

 

 

We continued our Thursday meetings, sometimes playing but mostly talking. Ray seemed very interested in my world. He wanted to know about my church, my friends, what I did and who I did it with. I was truly honored to have such a unique friend but I still was reluctant to tell my mom. Somehow, I knew she wouldn’t take kindly to me hanging out with Ray Anthony.

 

 

 

What kind of things will....develop, when this unlikely pair gets together.... 

 

 


“Ok, I’ma show you, cuz you my li’l homey, but you cain’t tell nobody. Promise?” I shook my head, more worried than ever.

“Just do like I do,” He said and with that he lowered his shorts.

 

Like that time in the alley I was looking at Ray Anthony’s perfectly shaped thingy. He doesn’t wear underwear? He was so comfortable with things sexual, it unnerved me. I stared at his willy for some time, my mind whirring. It was so mesmerizing, the shaft smooth as his baby soft skin. The head nicely shaped it wasn’t too fat or too small.

 

This time I could see his balls too and they fascinated me more than his willy. Heavy man-balls they dangled beneath his hanging willy, an even covering of sandy-brown peach fuzz about each orb. I guess I would’ve stood there staring for eternity had he not said anything.

“Quit staring at my shit and do like I do,” He chided, pulling his shorts up, then down once more...

 

 

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