It's amazing what can suddenly spark that first fateful, conscious lust. Mine was definitely at the onset of puberty (oh the embarrassment of unexpected hair in the nether regions). Sudden and uncomfortable erections were an hourly event by the age of ten. I was an early developer - physically if not emotionally - and horribly self conscious. Being the first in my peer group in the changing room at school to show pubes and what suddenly seemed to be a massive cock in comparison with the other boys, was not, as others may suggest, a positive and confidence building experience. I recall trying to hide my shame, feeling like I was some weird, hairy, swollen freak.

What really set the gonads going were magazines selling holidays, with photos depicting happy families frolicking on beaches, smiling children building sandcastles and mummy and daddy in swimsuits lounging on sunbeds. Suntanned bodies. Breasts artfully covered. Sculptured bodies and well muscled arms and legs, firm buttocks and hairy chests, bulges and chiselled jaw lines and masculine beauty and more bulges and interesting contours and stiffness in the pants and definitely pert nipples and that's an outline of a cock and a throbbing stickiness in the pants and OH MY GOD that's hard.

No actual ejaculation, and I was seriously clueless, but after that first gooey knob throbber I was always on the lookout for other material that would have the same effect. Mail order catalogues with an underwear section were good. It was after lusting over one of the very masculine models one evening that I had my first nocturnal emmision. I remember waking up just after, with my juvenile cock solid enough to smash concrete and still dribbling this....what the hell is THAT? There was loads of it, this mass of sticky goo, like slime and snot yet smelling like starch and my cock was shrinking and I'm feeling this strange sensation of relief but also I'm feeling guilty. And I remember the dream just before I woke up which was a confusion of tanned, masculine bodies and some faceless guy was beckoning me over and just as he was hooking his thumbs into the waist band of his pants and pushing them down over his waist and I NEVER EVEN GOT TO SEE HIS COCK!

The first actual, real flesh and blood object of my pubescent adoration was a double glazing salesman who looked like a Greek god, with a flashing smile and perfect hair and twinkling eyes and was tall and had long artistic fingers and no amount of shaving would ever fully rid him of his heavy shadow and he sat in the chair opposite me with this MASSIVE BULGE and all I could do was pretend to read my comic. No matter how I fidgeted I couldn't get my unruly dick to behave. As the unsuspecting object of my silent, yearning lust was droning on to my folks about the marvels of the design and wonderful sound insulation I was imagining how he would look without his shirt - hairy, naturally, probably covering his chest but with a trail down his obviously well muscled belly, fanning out around his groin. I had very little to go on further down, the only cocks I'd seen being my own, my dad's (rarely) and the other boys at school (all of whom were smaller than me at that point and of little interest). So I imagined his cock as a sort of snake, curling around to fill his bulge, thick and meaty and pulsating. And I'm drooling once again in my own pants, solid and throbbing, casting quick glances as he moves and adjusts himself (does he seem self consciously uncomfortable and somehow bigger in the groin area than he was earlier?). The poor guy must have known that I was fascinated by him but was totally unable to do anything other than sit there andcarry on with his sales pitch, miserably readjusting has aching hardness whilst doing his best to ignore the less than subtle gaze from the young son of his prospective clients.

I recall that I offered to help him out to his car with his sales demo items, hoping that he may somehow touch me somewhere to alleviate my youthful wanting, but he couldn't wait to load his car and with a brief "Thanks sonny" gunned the engine and shot off down the road, leaving me (bereft, pre cum flowing in a constant sticky stream to make my aching balls feel slimey) to gaze in lustful dreaming after his rapidly disappearing car. That was the day I learnt that rubbing my cock to ease the ache whilst imagining my beautiful, masculine salesman pushing his long fingered and hairy hand into my pants produced an entirely different effect.....

 

Davey McArthur

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