That Spring

Part 1.

...I lay back as they worked intently on my swollen, dripping erection; my
next door neighbor and his sister were splitting the labor between them, she
running her tongue sloppily along the back of my big shaft, drooling almost
as much saliva down my rod as the cream their actions were drawing up from
my balls, which was flowing in a wide stream over the purple rim of my
painfully-stretched dickhead, and on down the front of my thick shaft; while
he was jacking the lower end of my hard-on with excruciating slowness,
pulling down on the skin with his hand on the down-stroke, stretching the
skin shiny-tight, while tickling my swollen balls with the fingertips of his
other hand. We all knew that they were close to wringing another intensely
huge orgasm from my engorged genitals, and, as I could feel the come pooling
in my balls, involuntarily I reflected back on how these incredible sexual
encounters had become such a regular part of my life...

I was raised conservatively and had had a sheltered life, and although I
discovered jacking off at a young age, I felt guilty about it. Although I
was 19, I hadn't at that time had any sexual contact with girls; I had been
on a few platonic dates to the movies and such, but I was shy, and lived in
a small town. In the winter of that year, a new family moved next door- a boy
a year younger than me, and his older sister. I didn't have much contact with
them, until that spring, on a day I'll never forget.

It was unseasonably hot, and I had set up an old wading pool we had had for
years in the back yard that I would get wet in to cool off. On this
afternoon as I was heading towards the pool in a bathing suit the boy, whose
name I recalled was Jeff, looked over the fence between our houses, and
asked if he could join me and cool off. I had thought he was peculiar when I
had met him before; he was from Chicago, and had a different manner than the
local guys: I couldn't get a feel for what he was thinking. Anyway, I told
him sure, and he came over and lay back in the pool with me. We talked
smalltalk about the neighborhood and how he was settling in, but I noticed
with some alarm that he kept glancing at my crotch. I felt uneasy, but
ignored his behavior, as I was quite shy.

As I know now, I happen to have been blessed with very large genitals, and
even when I had been in middle puberty, my dick extended well above my navel
when I had a hard-on. Evidently he was noticing the largish bulge in my
swim-trunks even though I was soft; and after he worked our conversation
around to the obvious object of his attention, he asked me if I would show
it to him, saying he thought it seemed much bigger than his, and he was
curious.

Now, I was quite put off by this; my upbringing had instilled in me a huge
set of taboos about sexuality, and I had always behaved publicly in complete
denial about the whole issue; so I was very flustered by his straightforward
request. I didn't answer him in my confusion, which he must have sensed, as
he kept suggesting in a disarming way that it would be very interesting to
him to see it, and that he just wanted a quick look, and so on. I felt so
disoriented by the strange situation that my sense of normal acceptable
behavior, ordinarily so embedded in me & that I took for granted, grew
fuzzy; and, almost in a trance, I let him talk me into giving him a peek.

We got out of the pool, and he led me around to the side of the house, but I
was afraid we might be caught in the act (evidently my normal sense of
propriety hadn't completely deserted me), so I suggested we go down into our
basement through the storm door, which we did. We went into my hobby room,
where I built model airplanes; my parents rarely came down there, so I felt
a little safer. He sat in the chair at my table (how I was going to come to
enjoy that chair, it almost makes me come now to remember it!... but that's
getting ahead of our story), and had me stand a few feet in front of him. I
was rendered pliant by my confusion; he said “well, let me see it!”, and,
hoping to get it over with, I pulled down my bathing suit, and left it
hanging around my knees. I just stood there nervously, as he was obviously
transfixed by what he saw- he kept saying "wow", and just looking at it with
a steady stare.

I had never been in a situation even remotely like this, with another person
in such a bizarrely intimate situation, and didn't know what the boundaries
were- I felt paralyzed, yet strangely excited, and to my horror my dick
started slowly swelling. This went on like a silent movie; for minutes,
neither of us moving, or saying a word, as my cock very slowly rose, through
horizontal, at last becoming fully swollen and pointing at a 45 degree angle
towards the roof. I felt intensely powerful sensations running through my
body that I had never felt before, as no other person had ever seen my
erection. I think he could sense the intensity of the situation, as he sat
still, transfixed, staring at my fully swollen penis two feet in front of
his face. Finally he said "damn!", and asked me if he could touch it; he
said he'd never seen one so big.

I was paralyzed by the intense lust and confusion that was washing over me,
so I just stood there numbly as he reached out his arm and tentatively
touched it with two finger tips, which he then lightly ran down to the
bottom of the shaft to my balls; his light touch produced an electrical
shock as if I had been struck by lightning. He then gently tried to encircle
the middle of the shaft with his whole hand. I had never before in my life
felt such intense, incredibly pleasurable sensations. I was possessed,
completely insane, in another dimension with these new sensations he was
producing in me and the bizarre situation I was experiencing; all I could do
was stand there. He started slow little jacking-off motions, watching
intently with his face only inches away, as if in experiment. A drop of
cream pushed its way out of the head, and started to drip towards the floor.
"Wow", he said again, softly. He started saying how incredible it was to see
such a huge dick, how he used to masturbate with his friends in Chicago and
had seen some he thought were big, but that he had never seen anything like
this.

He asked me if he could jack off with me- I dazedly mumbled something, and
he took his hand away from my hardon, stood up, and pulled his own bathing
suit down, never taking his eyes away from my rod, now dripping onto the
floor. As he sat back down, I saw another boys erection than my own for the
first time- and was amazed how much smaller it seemed than what I was used
to- I had never really realized that my size was unusual. I was fascinated
by his dick- it seemed perfectly proportioned, but on a miniature scale,
like a toy or a model of my own.

It’s hard for me to describe why I was permitting these atrocities to
continue and escalate, against all my previous conditioning and better
judgement; something in me had overloaded when I had pulled my pants down,
or even before, when I had agreed to it in the first place, and each
subsequent transgression of my scruples, with the incredible sexual
sensations I was experiencing, only added to the overload and my resultant
confusion, rendering me more susceptible to his, and my, lust, and my own
deep, primitive urges.

He was now sitting right in front of me, my dick at the level of his face,
and he once again took hold of it. He started to pull the skin up and down
very slowly, in a steady rhythm, which produced a sort of popping sound each
time his motion made the cock-hole pout. Neither of us spoke; I just stood
there in front of him being jacked off in silence, except for the regular
noises my dick was producing.

When I had masturbated previously, I used quite a fast speed, as if racing
urgently to shoot off; but this very slow steady pumping that he was doing
made me feel a whole new range of sensations; a burning, tingling from the
soles of my feet to the top of my head. Thick drops of cream were oozing
from the tip of my erection, running down to where the motion of his hand
was spreading it in a glistening film over both his hand and the remainder
of the shaft, down to my balls. “Wow... and you really cream a lot, too!” he
said softly, almost to himself. I saw he was rubbing his own penis, his palm
almost covering the whole rod; on mine, his hand didn't even cover the
middle third. He was staying away from the head, and was deliberate in his
focus, staring blankly at his handiwork.

Then, he stopped, and said that if we kept up we would come too soon; he
stood up, and he asked me if I wanted to feel his hardon. By this time all
boundaries had been broken, so I passively sat down in the chair, and he
stood in front of me. He was a little shorter than I was so his dick wasn't
quite at my eye level as I was for him. I reached over and felt it. It felt
funny, small and delicate compared to what I was used to, and strangely
inanimate- I was used to feeling my prick's sensations as well as the
sensation of my hand touching it, but now his dick felt like a rubber cigar
or something.

I tried wrapping my hand around it and jerking it off, but my hand covered
it so much that I couldn't move up and down very much; then he showed me how
to grasp it with my thumb on the bottomside of his shaft and two fingers on
the top, and I could then slide the skin up and down a good ways. I tried to
do it the way he had been doing me, very slowly, but he made me stop again
in a few minutes; he said that he & his friends learned to try to last as
long as possible before they came, and used to have a game to see who could
last the longest when they masturbated together. He said that he just wanted
to look at my huge hardon for a while, that that alone was really making him
feel very hot.

He pulled me down in the chair so that I was slumped down and my legs were
out straight, making my dick stick straight up, and he sat on the floor next
to me, putting his eye-level once again even with my erection. He said that
he bet that if we both just stared at it intently, that alone would make it
keep oozing; we did that for the next few minutes, and sure enough the
pressure of our gaze kept clear fluid running down the front of the shaft in
a steady rivulet. Finally, Jeff reached out a hand and started tickling my
balls very lightly with his fingertips. I jumped at the almost electrical
shock of his sudden touch on my balls. He commented on how even my balls
were huge; and as he continued his tickling, my hand hanging down found his
little hardon and began to stroke it slowly. He seemed intoxicated,
transfixed by the sight of my big dick, and in my intense sexual distraction
I could barely follow as he seemed to be feverishly telling me how he would
love to jerk off with me every day, making all sorts of promises to be at my
beck and call, cajoling me, promising that he would be my “sex slave” and do
anything I wanted to my cock whenever I wanted him to, and so on, if only I
would keep getting together with him. He told me he had to tell his sister
about what he had found out about me; that she would sometimes masturbate
with him & his friends, and even occasionally jerk them off.

All the while he was saying all this, he had been steadily tickling my
balls, and I was on fire. My dick had never been so hard, and it felt like
it was burning up- but with the light tickling sensation, it was a slow
torture; I'm sure that if he had only wrapped his hand around my dick, it
would have sent me over the top. But he kept up his tickling, falling silent
now, staring intently at my throbbing rod. The feeling of being on fire was
by now insane: I had never felt so hot: I was panting: and the clear fluid
that was oozing from my cock-head would become exhausted, then enough would
build up to flow again and a little would drip out, then it would be again
exhausted. I had completely forgotten about the fondling I had been giving
his dick.

Then, suddenly, without any warning, he moved his hand from his tickling and
drew it lightly up my shaft; well, that did it! Before his hand even reached
the head, I felt like I was passing out, and a thick, continuous stream of
come shot out from the head of my extremely swollen dick, then another, and
another, seemingly endlessly. I felt that I had never truly come before that
day. I could feel his dick pulsing too and my hand became wet, as he came in
sympathy with the ferocity of my orgasm. We both just lay back... I felt
transformed, shattered, liberated, dizzy with the newness of my first sexual
experience with another person. He was talking about how hot jacking off my
dick made him, planning future sessions, maybe a sleepover at his house, so
he could show his sister my “enormous rod”...

2.

After Jeff's departure, and for the remainder of that day, I was in a
turmoil. I felt horribly guilty for having allowed such an incredible
transgression of my usual "acceptable" behavior, blamed my perverse weakness
for allowing such a horror to occur, and felt terrified to have been
involved in such a blatantly homosexual act. Yet at the same time, I felt an
elation, an exquisite thrill at the memory of the extreme "nastiness" of
what we had done, thrilling exactly because it was so very nasty; I had
come so hard. I felt dizzy, disoriented- unsure of who or what I was
anymore, the known predictability of the patterns of my life shattered,
leaving me in a dizzying cloud of newness and uncertainty. I resorted to
clinging to my old, "safe" behavior, in an explicit denial of what had
occurred; walking through the rest of the day carefully as my old self would
have, and attempted to bury this crazy fact of my vulnerability to such wild
behavior. Yet, I was constantly haunted by apprehension of what my next
encounter with Jeff might bring.

That fear was addressed the next afternoon as I was working in the back
yard, when he appeared over the fence and called me over to talk to him. I
strode over with a deliberate air of nonchalance as if I felt nothing
peculiar, but in fact I felt an exciting, watery feeling in my midsection,
that threatened to disrupt the ease of my movement toward him. I came up to
him with a neutral look held on my face, prepared to pretend nothing at all
had happened the previous day. He, however, immediately burst the facade of
social conformity by begging me to let him do me again, promising to do
anything I might want, saying that I wouldn't have to do anything at all if
I didn't want to, that he would do all the work, and could we go down into
the basement room right then and do it.

All the confusion that I had been trying so hard to deny surged up into my
mind, along with a shockingly strong feeling of lust at the image of what he
was suggesting, and the memory of how good it had felt yesterday. I felt
thrillingly powerless, surrendering to this surge of lust, as I mumbled
acceptance of his suggestion; he pointedly told me to go down in and take
off my pants, and that he would be right over.

In a daze I went down into the basement storm door and into my hobby room- I
looked over at the chair, images of the preceding day's activities rushing
over me, and pulled off my pants and sat down. I left my briefs on; somehow
that shred of concealment bowed towards the social conformity I felt torn to
obey- but the straining of my now fully hard cock against my underwear gave
a lie to the pretense.

I heard him coming down the stairs from the storm door, looked up, and saw
him enter the room. His eyes at once fixated on the massive bulge in my
underwear, and he directly came over to the chair, bent down, and with one
hand stretching open one of the leg-holes in my briefs, with the other he
guided my dick and balls through it, leaving them hanging out the side, free
of covering. He then knelt down at my side by my knee, facing me. The tip of
my swollen dick was pointing straight towards the ceiling, and with me
slumped down in the chair and him kneeling facing me, it was at the level of
both our eyes; so that as I watched him, I was looking right past its shiny
head towards his eyes, which were taking in my size seemingly in awe.

Having seen his erection the previous day, I could imagine how impressive I
was to him- every portion of my genitals was well more than twice the size
of what he was used to on himself. He reached out a hand, and grasped the
shaft of my penis near its base, so that his fingertips were over the
topside of the shaft, and his thumb was gently pressed into the thick column
that ran up the backside of the shaft, just above my balls. He then slowly
moved his hand upwards, sliding the skin along my shaft as far as it would
comfortably stretch, watching my balls being pulled upwards from their usual
resting place between my legs. He did this two or three times, watching the
motion of my balls, and the third time, after he had pulled up, kept pulling
up for a moment as he put his other hand beneath where my balls were
hanging, and then let them slide down to rest on his slightly cupped palm.
He supported my sack, feeling the weight of it with a gentle bouncing
motion.

I was as if in a trance: to be allowing the exquisitely nasty invasion of my
body's privacy again today was thrilling and fascinating, and incredibly
exciting, as I remembered where it was likely to be leading. I watched his
actions in silence, in shock and arousal simultaneously. He handled my
genitals almost worshipfully; clearly he enjoyed his focus on my big cock
every bit as much as I enjoyed his efforts. It was strangely satisfying to
be the object of his worship and fascination, and I was learning to
appreciate my own size in sympathy with his amazement.

As he was cradling my balls in his hand, both of us staring intently at the
proceedings, a drop of clear fluid emerged from my cock, and sat poised on
the tip, glistening like a diamond. "Oh, yeah!", he said under his breath,
and he reached a finger towards the head of my dick, touching the drop with
his fingertip; he then slowly smeared it over the swollen head, leaving it
shiny, and as he pulled his hand away, trailed a long string of the sticky
juice. He told me he had noticed the previous day that I made a lot of fluid
before I came. He said that one of his former jack-off buddies also used to
ooze a lot, and that they would deliberately try to see how much cream they
could get out of him before he came. He said that he would like to try that
with me, and shifted his position so that he was sitting to my side; he told
me that they had discovered a masturbation technique that really made the
juice flow, and slowed orgasm, but that I would need to take my underwear
off and spread my legs wider apart.

By this time, in a haze of lust, I had totally surrendered to the situation;
so I let him position me, very slumped down in the chair so that my belly
was almost horizontal, my underwear off and my legs spread apart, with my
hardon hanging at a 45 degree angle towards my face. He reached over to the
table where I built my model airplanes and picked up an empty saucer that
was sitting there. "This'll do", he said, and he set the saucer on my chest
right beneath where the head of my penis was hanging. He told me not to
worry, that what he was going to do might look strange, but it felt really
good, and he & his friend had done it all the time; and that it should be
even easier with a dick as big as mine.

He put his thumb around my shaft near the base, with his fingers held
together extended along the back of the shaft, fingertips pointing down
towards my balls. He then gently pushed his fingertips downward. "I thought
on you I might be able to fit my whole hand", he said excitedly; apparently
with his friend they could use only one or two fingers for this. He
continued to slide his fingertips down in between the shaft and my balls,
stretching the skin into a pocket, that allowed him to insert his hand down
behind my balls up to about the second joint. As the skin of my penis was
stretched down by his pushing, it pulled tightly on the head, and pulled the
whole dick upwards slightly. With his other hand, he manipulated my balls
out of the way, to get maximum penetration of his hand down behind my balls.
It felt very peculiar at first; I didn't know my anatomy was capable of such
a feat, but the tightly stretched skin on my shaft pulling on the head was
extremely pleasurable.