Teen Exhibitionist

My name is Parker, Park for short. I’m an 18 year-old high school senior, a smidgen over six feet tall, and weigh 160 pounds, with dark hair and a smooth, toned, and lean body. I’m on the high school swim team, lift weights with the team several times a week, and get excellent grades. My parents are part owners/operators of a popular restaurant/bar, which means they’re busy and out of the house until 11:00 or 11:30 six nights a week. I have a sister who is a year older than me and lives at home. She attends a nearby community college part time.

Did I mention that I’m gay? No, well, I am! I hope you aren’t disappointed in me, but I’ve buried my gayness deep in the closet. I’ve never breathed a word to anyone that I’m gay and don’t intend to until I’m in college. I’m just not ready for the drama of coming out to my family and friends, even though I’m almost certain that everyone would be fine with it. I’m so in the closet that I haven’t even tried to lose my virginity!

Did I mention that I’m a little bit of an exhibitionist? No, well, I am! That’s one of the reasons I love to swim — being on the pool deck wearing a skimpy bikini with everyone looking at me, plus walking around the pool before and after each event in a wet bikini that adheres to my body like a second skin. Now, that's a rush! I’ve never really tried to be an exhibitionist in any other public setting because — oxymoron alert — I guess I’m a shy exhibitionist!

I sometimes wonder how my exhibitionist tendencies started. When I was a little kid, I tied a towel around my neck and ran around the house in my underwear playing Superman, saving Metropolis from dastardly criminals. Was that the start — the feeling of being an invincible super hero that everyone admired, while wearing only my undies? Or, was it some other incident in my life? Or, was the exhibitionism ingrained in my DNA since birth? I guess that's a question "above my pay grade,” as my dad likes to say.

Although my Superman playing days concluded long ago, I developed, and never ended, a daily morning routine of waking up, readying myself for school, and heading downstairs to the kitchen in only my underwear (unlike my contemporaries, I’m a briefs guy, not a boxers guy) to eat breakfast. I still do that to this day. Mom, dad, and my sister see me every morning in the kitchen in my underwear (which I kind of enjoy but hope isn’t “pervy”), but they’ve never complained or said anything. Sometimes, especially on weekends, I'll linger in the kitchen longer than necessary or find some reason to delay returning to my room to get dressed (now, maybe, that's pervy). 

One day, as usual, after school and working out, I drove home to shower and rustle up a snack (as a senior, my school day ended at 2:15). There’s rarely any one at home until 4:30, when my sister and her best friend, Christine, normally arrive. (My sister brings Christine by the house two or three times a week.) I finished my shower and headed down to the kitchen in my briefs. (I can't explain why but, for some reason, it feels so relaxing, or maybe the word is “freeing” after a busy day at school to be in only my undies in an empty house!) I was eating a bowl of breakfast cereal (yes, I know it's mid-afternoon but, hey, I’m hungry), when I heard a commotion at the front door. My sister and Christine were in the foyer! For some reason, they were at least a half an hour early! I had a 10-second opportunity to flee the kitchen before being caught in my underwear but, in an uncharacteristically bold and daring, split-second decision, I decided not to, reasoning that (1) it’s my house (so to speak), and I can wear what I want, and (2) they’d seen me countless times at swim meets or our backyard pool in a bikini swimsuit, and my underwear wasn’t any more revealing.

“Oh, sexy,” cooed Christine. (I was in blue briefs with an orange waist band and piping defining the fly opening.) Christine is a smart, take-charge person, brassy and bossy at times, meaning not everyone likes her. My sister adores her, and she and Christine hang out all the time. I consider Christine my best female friend.

I blushed but never lost my composure. “You guys are here early, which means it's your lucky day!” I made an exaggerated bow. My sister looked mortified.

“Wait until the girls see you!” Christine was referring to Ellen and Jenni, other good friends of my sister and Christine, who are high school seniors like me. Christine indicated they’d be arriving shortly.

“I guess I should get dressed.”

“Why bother?” Christine said a fraction of a second before my sister would’ve responded with a loud “Yes!” “Ellen and Jenni have to see this! They'll be disappointed, if they don't.” Again, uncharacteristically, I made no move to rush upstairs to my room to, at least, put on my pants. We chatted for a few minutes, and I finished gulping down my cereal, before hearing a car in the driveway. Ellen and Jenni! Too late to change my mind and get dressed. As the saying goes, “in for a dime, in for a dollar!”

“Oh,” they voiced in unison upon entering the kitchen. “Do we have a new dress code?” said Ellen.

"Park decided to expose a new part of his personality," said Christine.

“The only reason I'm dressed like this is because these two arrived early."

"Don't try to victim blame," said Christine. "We're the ones who have to look at you!"

"I don't mind," said Ellen.

"Me neither," chimed in Jenni. 

Ellen's and Jenni's comments made me feel good!

"See what I have to put up with!" said my ever supportive sister.

“Ya know,” Christine said, “my little brother — he’s five — he wears briefs like that. They’re inside the plastic pants he wears at night to prevent ‘accidents’ (Christine made air quotes with her fingers), if you know what I mean!”

“I think a picture of Goldilocks and the three bears across Park’s butt would look nice on those undies,” added Ellen.

“Or, how 'bout the Easter bunny,” offered Jenni.

“You guys should drop out of school and become comedians,” I retorted. ”Why don’t you wear big red noses and blast an air horn too?”

“You get so defensive when you're embarrassed,” said Christine. “Like, whenever we mention the words ‘drunk night’ and 'grounded.'”

Drunk night was an unfortunate evening at a friend's house about nine months ago when I had countless vodka shots and threw up in Mr. and Mrs. Jenson’s walk-in closet, where I also managed to pass out. (To this day, how I got in their bedroom closet remains a mystery. No closet analogies, please!) My horrified friends took me home and dumped me on the front lawn (after all, what are friends for), which is where my parents discovered me when they came home from work. In a “gesture of love” that I would “more fully appreciate when I was grown,” mom and dad grounded me for six weeks! My parents, however, cushioned the punishment by promoting me to head of housekeeping, where I was tasked with dusting and vacuuming the house, washing clothes and dishes (the dish washer enjoyed a six week hiatus), and grocery shopping! (Mom enjoyed her sabbatical. I think she's secretly hoping I'll get drunk again, so I can be punished for another six weeks!)

"When ya bring up drunk night, it's always to make fun of me!"

“But, we do it because we love you," said Christine.

“You do it because you’re evil,” I replied.

“That too,” conceded Christine with a grin.

“All I know is every time I see you in school tomorrow, I’ll imagine you in your underwear,” Jenni snickered. 

"I'm afraid I'll be thinking about Goldilocks and the three bears," added Ellen.

Thus, began three hours of fun. We moved to the game room and set up a Monopoly board. As usual, we each made one move, never rolled the dice again, and abandoned the game. Instead, we engaged in slanderous gossip about teachers and classmates and rehashed for the umpteenth time countless high school stories. I became the "underwear waiter," which I didn't mind, fetching soda and snacks for the girls on command.

As I returned with a second round of sodas, Ellen commented, "Ya know, I don't think it'll ever get old, watching Park serve us in his underwear."

When I set down the drinks, Jenni said, "Park, I think we need more snacks."

"You've got almost a full bowl of chips there.” I gestured in mock outrage to the table.

"That's not the point. We just like to see you walking back and forth to the kitchen." Much laughter. Even my sister smiled.

I returned to the kitchen for another bag of chips, thinking, "I like this too!" I was proud of my body, the work I'd put into it, and now delighted in the opportunity to display myself. I remained in my underwear the entire time. I’d never enjoyed myself so much with Christine, Ellen, and Jenni, and they enjoyed it too. I didn't consider for a moment dashing to my room to put on more clothes. Of course, I took a lot of good-natured ribbing, and I gave a lot of it back, but it was all in fun. A good time was had by all!

In case you're wondering, "No, I never get a hard on!" I worried that I might, but I stayed under control at least until everyone left. Then, I jacked off in my room!

@@@@@@@@@@

After that first afternoon, I wondered if I’d ever have an opportunity like that again. I was unsure if I should be in my underwear (which I wanted to do) or return to wearing my usual garb of t-shirts and shorts (which is more appropriate, I suppose). I need not have worried, because on Thursday afternoon Christine texted me with the words, “b in underwear!” I replied with a thumbs up emoji. And, just like that, a tradition was born!

We had five or six underwear afternoons over the next two and a half weeks. I wore traditional white Calvin Klein briefs, as well as other brands in plain blue, red, and gray. (I didn't wear any of my small bikini briefs that I had purchased and squirreled away in the back of my dresser drawer. Too pervy, I thought.) Much like the first night, each get together was lunch, snacks, games, or movies, with me in my underwear. I enjoyed every minute!

One night, to do something different, I donned the bikini swimsuit I wore for swimming meets. 

“That’s one sports uniform the school got right,” observed Jenni. “The blue and white design looks really sharp.”

“Much better than those hideous basketball unis, which look like they’re designed for clowns,” said Ellen.

“All bikinis look nice on guys,” said Christine. “That suit is so tight I know exactly what Park’s butt looks like. And, I can see all the lumps.” Of course, I was secretly thrilled with Christine's sartorial analysis.

"By lumps, you mean his 'package?'" said Ellen. 

"Obviously," said Christine. Everyone laughed. That both embarrassed and electrified me.

“Park, on that subject, I have a suggestion. I think it’s time to do something other than underwear when we get together,” Christine opined. 

“What'd you mean? I wore my swimsuit today. That's different.”

“True. And, nothing’s wrong with your swimsuit. It looks fab on you, but, well, I know more than I want about your underwear drawer. And, let’s face it, you have boring undies. So, I was thinking, maybe, some . . . . . . thing . . . . . . else!  Something less!”

“Less?” I exclaimed. “I don't have anything less,” I lied, thinking of my stash of small bikinis.

“Why not something like a thong. Women wear them,” suggested Ellen.

“That's a 'no,'" I blurted out. I must admit, though, that it sounded like a great idea!

“Well, here's my thought. Why don’t you go naked!” said Christine. There were three simultaneous gasps from the others, although my sister's gasp may have been the sound of someone going into cardiac arrest.

“That sounds fun!” said Ellen. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Probably because you’re not a pervert,” I riposted. Christine shot me the finger. I sat back in my chair, content with my zinger. 

I was in shock! This is beyond anything I'd ever dreamed about. I knew I couldn't go naked. But, I also knew I couldn’t pass up this opportunity either — it may never, hell, it will never happen again. I had this debate in my mind in seconds.

“C’mon, Park, just think of how much we’ve enjoyed the last couple of weeks. We could have even more fun,” said Christine. Like bobble-head dolls in a wind storm, Ellen and Jenni repeatedly nodded their approval. My sister looked at Christine like she was crazy.

Christine didn’t have to convince me to go nude. I was already “in” with the idea. But, I couldn’t agree with Christine immediately. That, I thought, would look weird. Instead, I acted reluctant, so that Christine, Ellen, and Jenni needed to do more convincing. 

“Do it,” urged Ellen.

“Yeah,” said Jenni. “Just think of the fun.”

“I’m thinking about all of the insults I'll get.” 

After more cajoling, I said, “It would seem weird. I don’t know. Me, naked in front of you guys. We're friends. Really weird.”

“That's the reason it wouldn't be weird," said Christine. "We're friends.”

“We’ve all seen everything on-line and in sex education classes,” pointed out Jenni. "It's not like you're corrupting us."

“But, none of those guys were actually me.”

“True, but go with the flow, Park. We’ll have a good time. I guarantee it!” Christine said. 

My sister was quiet during this back and forth but kept imperceptibly shaking her head "no" at me.

After about 10 minutes of back and forth, I ignored my sister’s silent opinion and allowed myself to be persuaded to go naked the next time they came to the house, but maybe “just one time only.” (The screams of excitement from Ellen and Jenni were deafening.) Immediately, they all agreed they’d come over tomorrow afternoon! Of course, they weren't going to wait!

I know it might seem odd, but the next day was the most stressful day of my life. From the moment I woke up, I could think of nothing but being nude — I thought of it in the shower, while eating breakfast in my underwear, in class, and while lifting weights at the end of the school day. I thought about it so much I could barely remember attending some of my classes. Were there any homework assignments? I don’t know, because my mind wasn’t exactly concentrating on the Bank of the United States controversy during the Andrew Jackson Administration! I was excited one moment, scared the next, fretting and worrying the next. It’s one thing to think in the abstract about being nude in front of my female friends and sister; quite another to actually do it! I don’t know how many times I thought about canceling or just not going home at all. I mean it’s ridiculous to go naked in front of your sister and her girlfriends, isn’t it? You wouldn’t do it, right? In the end, my mind didn’t make a decision, as much as my hormones did because, despite my stress and vacillation and second guessing, I spent half the day with a boner!

Finally, the school day ended. I was home. I dried off after my shower, stood naked in front of the mirror, and decided my body looked good. I massaged my circumcised cock for a few seconds, so that it was as big as possible, while still remaining flaccid. Christine texted me “b nude,” and I again responded with a thumbs up emoji. Minutes after getting to the kitchen naked, I heard the sounds of gravel crunching under tires in the driveway. Today, all the girls arrived early and at the same time! Within seconds, the door to the entrance hallway opened. Ready or not, it was showtime!

@@@@@@@

Ellen and Jenni stampeded through the foyer, down the hallway, and spilled into the kitchen, yelling "Did he?" and "Is he?" When they saw me nude, they let out screams that could've shattered ear drums a block away.

Oh, my God. I didn't think you would," Ellen gasped.

"Neither did I," said Jenni.

"I said I would. Ya didn't believe me?"

I could've recited the Gettysburg Address and they wouldn't have heard a word I said, as they tried, but failed, to avert their eyes from my groin. The more they tried to avert their eyes, the more my self-confidence grew!

By this time, Christine and my sister had entered the room in a more dignified manner. Christine, of course, was thrilled that her scheme to get me naked had succeeded. She, too, glanced discretely at my cock but tried to act casual, as if seeing me naked happened every day. Even my sister's eyes flicked downward to my crotch momentarily. Knowing that my body and cock were the center of attention made every nerve in my body tingle.

After Ellen and Jenni exhausted themselves screaming (and the rest of us had confirmed that our eardrums had not been punctured and made sure that the neighbors hadn’t alerted the police), we retreated to the game room.

"I think Park should continue to serve drinks and snacks," Ellen volunteered.

"I totally agree," said Jenni.

"We should now refer to Park as the ‘naked waiter,'" said Ellen. 

"Hmmm. I don't know about that. I was thinking of 'dumb waiter,’" my sister said. I'm fairly sure that was a "dig" at me.

This elicited laughter from all, including me. It was erotic as hell carrying a tray full of sodas, as they watched me walk toward them naked. I was living a dream — naked and vulnerable and somewhat humiliated in front of my sister and her friends — my body and cock the object of their attention.
As I set the drinks out on the game table, Christine suddenly remarked, “Well, everyone, what do you think of a naked Parker?”

"Christine, for God's sake, quit trying to embarrass me!  You really are too much sometimes."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

“Park’s hot,” said Jenni, interrupting our childish back and forth.

“Nice chest, flat stomach, good skin,” said Ellen.

“Any comments about Park’s penis?” asked Christine. I gave Christine the stare that said, "You're being over the top again."

“Well, I have to admit it looks better than the pictures in our ‘Sexuality and Health' textbook,” said Ellen. 

“I should hope so,” I quickly responded. “They all had some sort of horrible STD!”

“All in all, Park’s very handsome,” concluded Jenni.

I modesty acknowledged that their analysis was true. My statement was met with derision. 

“Narcissistic enough?” said Christine.

"Not at all," I said. "Mom taught me it's impolite to contradict house guests." 

The girls opted to play Monopoly! (Why we always play Monopoly I don't know.) I was designated to set up the game board which, of course, I had to extract from under the couch. As I did so, I could feel four sets of eyes laser focused on my smooth butt (which I was proud of, if I may say so. Could they see my balls hanging between my legs?). I was deliberately slow retrieving the game. Next, I was also instructed by Christine (of course) to sit on one of our high wooden stools (which I retrieved from the kitchen), so my groin wouldn’t be hidden under the game table! 

Abruptly, Christine asked, "Are you circumcised? Show us!” (Christine knew the answer. She was just trying to "get my goat.") Christine's question sent another shot of adrenaline through my body. It was all I could do to not sprout an immediate boner. I never realized until now how much my exhibitionism overlapped with a desire to be somewhat vulnerable and humiliated. 

I showed them the ridge of skin on my cock, saying that the skin below that had been snipped off when I was born.

“Now, who wants to be the thimble?” I asked, trying vainly to change the subject to avoid an erection.

“Why are boys always grabbing their crotch?” said Jenni.

“I dunno. Just a habit, I do it because my cock's so big!” This evoked a chorus of groans and eye rolls.

"Delusional," said Ellen.

"Gaslighting at its finest," Jenni added.

The snickering and numerous put downs made me feel more excited. 

‘I’m choosing the race car as my game piece,” I said. “Who wants to be the banker?”

Despite my attempts at deflection, the conversation caused my cock to fill out to its maximum flaccid size. Basically, I was refereeing a contest between my cock and brain — my cock demanding that it be allowed to be hard and erect, while my brain said, “no, that would be highly inappropriate.” Soon after the Monopoly game started (we actually made a few moves each because, I think, they wanted to shake dice on the part of the table nearest my groin), I soon realized that my cock was winning, as it started to slightly harden and rise. To counteract this, I tried to think of non-sexy situations, like Mr. Howard's sixth period civics class (each class a near death experience) or my dad's disappointment when he discovered me passed out on the lawn on drunk night.

When Ellen rolled next, one die fell off the table, bounced on the wooden floor, and ended up under a nearby chair. Since I was closest, I had no choice but to get down on my hands and knees to reach for it. This seemed to be a “triggering mechanism” for my dick, as it started hardening and inflating fast. I tried to position my body so no one could see my crotch and pretend that I couldn’t find the die in hope of regaining control of my cock.

Ellen yelled, “There it is, Park, right by your hand! I can see it's a three. That means I land on New York Avenue.”

I had no choice but to extend my fingers, grab the die, and stand up with my 7-inch dong sticking straight out from my groin. My face was hot red with embarrassment but, at the same time, I loved it.

After several seconds, which seemed like minutes to me, it was, of course, Christine who said, “I didn’t realize how much Monopoly turned Parker on!” 

The combination of my nudity, excitement. horniness, humiliation, and vulnerability proved to be too much. A wave of blood rushed into my shaft. In just seconds, my dick inexorably rose to a complete erection under the girls’ watchful gaze. I’m a teen-aged boy. I can’t estimate how many times I’ve gotten an erection in my life, but I swear that within seconds my 7-inch circumcised cock had never been bigger, never more engorged, the head never more purple.

“You should’ve chosen the cannon for your game piece,” Jenni observed. “It has a big barrel pointing skyward too.”

A compliment! All eyes mesmerized by my hard cock! An enchanted audience! Me so horny! My dick throbbing so frequently that my hips involuntarily thrust forward. My legs quivered. The head of my dick tingled, as if ants were crawling on it.

The Monopoly game was immediately forgotten despite Ellen's repeated statements that "she wanted to buy New York Avenue." The girls moved to two small sofas that faced each other, while I sat on an overstuffed arm chair that faced the two sofas. We ate junk food and exchanged high school gossip; all the normal things we usually do, if “normal” can be defined as four girls talking to a naked male friend/classmate/brother with an erection. BTW, I sprawled out on the chair with my butt situated toward the front of the cushion. That way, my boner was front and center for the girls to view. (I was learning how to be an exhibitionist!) The girls left about an hour later, although I can only imagine what Christine, Ellen, and Jenni talked and texted about the rest of the night.

@@@@@@@@@@

Two days later, my phone buzzed with a text from Christine. “b naked! There at 3:30.” I’d wondered for the last two days if we’d have another naked night. I worried that maybe my erection was too "over the top." I needn't have worried. 

I got home from school, made a sandwich, ate half, showered, prepped, and reached another consequential decision for a shy guy (maybe not so shy anymore) — I’d have an erection when the girls arrived! Why? Considering what happened two days ago, there was no reason to hide anything now. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to flaunt it!  At 3:30, when the girls arrived, I was leaning against the kitchen counter, eating the last half of my sandwich, naked and hard, my 7-inch dick standing proudly in front of me.

"Park looks happy to see us," Christine said.

"I'm always glad to see you guys," I responded.

“We're noticing now!”

"Park, help us make sandwiches," Ellen said.

We established an assembly line. Ellen sliced the bread, Jenni spread the mayo, I put on the lettuce, Christine placed the turkey on the lettuce, and my sister cut the sandwiches in half. We ate in the game room with me sitting in my usual spot facing the small sofas. I disgusted everyone by eating two sandwiches. Unsupported allegations that I was a "pig" were thrown around with impunity, which I denied. It was another great three hours!

@@@@@@@

By my count, I got naked and hard 29 times between early April and mid-August, when it was time for us to go our separate ways to college. I’m not going to describe all these encounters, but I will highlight a couple of them.

Although being naked and hard in front of the gals was unbelievably liberating and stimulating, a major problem developed immediately. Let’s just say that trying to maintain an erection for three plus hours caused a problem commonly known as “blue balls." After my third afternoon with a boner and collapsing on my bed in agony after the girls left, I decided some changes had to be made. Having fun with a hard on for three hours followed by blinding pain for two hours was an unsustainable situation. I considered several options before arriving at a solution for the next time we got together. Of course, as usual, I worried that my solution could kill off our fun as easily as my blue balls problem, but I decided to go ahead.

As before, I was in the kitchen and hard when the girls arrived. We engaged in endless greetings (as if it'd been years since we'd seen each other, rather then just three days) and hugs. We re-established our efficient sandwich assembly line and, when the sandwiches were made, adjourned to the game room to eat, play Monopoly, and observe and comment on my erection.

About 45 minutes into the game (or more accurately gab fest, as we weren't really playing), I felt the first inkling of blue balls developing. Although I knew what I was going to do, my nervousness inhibited me from setting my plan in motion for about five more minutes. By then, I knew that the pain was coming and I couldn't delay any longer. I discretely wrapped the palm of my right hand around my shaft and started moving my palm up and down masturbating. At first, I'm not sure anyone noticed but, within a few seconds, they did as I increased pace.

"What? What's going on? said Ellen, who seemed flustered and baffled.

I didn't respond.

"He's masturbating!" gasped Christine. For once, she was speechless.

I was sitting on the kitchen stool higher than the table. All the girls could see me, all could see my hard cock, all could see my hand rapidly sliding up and down on the shaft. The attention, my horniness, the sexuality of the situation! It was too much. In just a few minutes, I was moaning and breathing hard, moving inexorably toward climax.

Boom! I let out an audible “aaaaahhhh” from deep in my esophagus as semen blasted out of my cock, arching upward and then making an almost imperceptible “splat” as the cum landed on the Monopoly board, drenching the Community Chest cards! Subsequent blasts, accompanied by my grunts, hit the game table and my leg before the last of the cum dribbled out of my shaft, coming to rest in my pubic hair.

There was absolute silence for 10 to 15 seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.

“Well,” Christine finally whispered.

“Yeah,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. 

I didn’t know what else to say. Ellen and Jenni were wide eyed. My sister looked like she wanted to be in a cave in Asia.

I managed to mutter, “I’ll clean up,” as I jogged to the kitchen to retrieve some paper towels, shedding cum from my stomach, pubic hair, and penis on the floor and making an even bigger mess. I cleaned the game board and table and floor. But, you know what, despite feeling utterly humiliated and sexually spent, I never lost all of my erection. In fact, by the time I finished cleaning up, I was hard again.

The best post-orgasm comment came from Ellen. “From now on, Park, you’re in charge of the Community Chest cards!”

@@@@@@@

From that point on, I masturbated about 30 to 45 minutes after the girls arrived and, sometimes, I'd dump a second load before they departed. On the occasions that I didn't cum twice, I jacked off later in my room.

Several weeks later, I overheard a snippet of conversation between Ellen and Jenni. 

"Wouldn't it be something to touch it?" said Ellen.

"I know what you mean," said Jenni.

"Probably never happen, though," said Ellen.

That set me to thinking and I came up with an idea that I put in motion the next time we got together. After making our sandwiches and deciding to watch a movie (thank God, not Monopoly), everyone sat down in the usual places. That is, everyone except me. I plopped down on the small sofa between Ellen to my left and Jenni to my right. It was a tight fit but there was space for us to sit. My sister hit the play button, the movie started, and I commenced eating my sandwich, my hard cock no more than 18 inches from Ellen's and Jenni’s legs.

When I finished my sandwich, I asked Ellen to hand me a paper napkin. She did so and, as I took the napkin from her, I clasped her right hand and slowly moved it onto my shaft. With my hand on top of hers, I folded her fingers around my cock. Then, I wrapped my fingers around hers and, with a little pressure, began moving our hands in tandem, masturbating my cock. After 20 seconds or so, I withdrew my hand, nodded my approval, and let Ellen jack me off by herself. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes, letting Ellen's hand pleasure me.

My eyes were probably closed for only a few seconds. When I opened them, no one was looking at the movie. Rather, all eyes were affixed on Ellen’s hand. Talk about a natural high — pleasure shooting through my shaft, while someone else did the work and others watched! Next, I put my hand on Ellen’s and stopped her from jacking my cock. Instead, I moved her thumb, forefinger, and index finger to the purple head of my cock and showed her how to move her fingers up and down and around on the sensitive tip of my cock. This drove me wild, causing me to roll my hips, lift my butt from the couch, and moan nearly constantly, as waves of pleasure coursed through my body.
The next 10 minutes were intense and insane. I couldn't stop gasping and grunting and moaning and squirming, 

Christine said, "Park's enjoying himself."

"Yeah," agreed Ellen. "And, ya know what. I'm in complete control!"

I realized that Ellen was right. I had no control. She did. I was completely vulnerable.

 "Oh, shit!" I said. "I'm cuming!"

With that, I spasmed, unloading jets of semen onto my chest, stomach, pubes, and onto Ellen's hand and wrist. I buried my face in my hands, panting like I'd just swum 10 laps as fast as I could. I even said, "Fuck," which I felt bad about later.

"Here," my sister said, as a towel landed on my chest. "Wipe off!" 

I turned to Jenni and said, "You're next. Tomorrow."

Jenni blushed and said, "Yes, I am."

After that, I never masturbated again. In each get together, Ellen or Jenni took care of my "horny needs!"

@@@@@@@

My small bedroom and bathroom are the only rooms on the second floor of our house. The rooms are shoe-horned beneath the roof line, meaning it has a crazy slanted ceilings. The only access to my room is via a 25-step, L-shaped staircase with the door on the first floor. My room is completely private. Dad hasn't been in the room for 10 years, mom rarely comes up (she usually leaves newly washed clothes and sheets at the foot of the stairs), and my sister comes up maybe two or three times a year. All in all, a perfect room for a teenager.

One evening later in the summer, I was laying on my bed, eyes closed, listening to music, and masturbating, when I heard a noise. I opened my eyes to see my sister standing next to the bed. She wanted to talk about mom's upcoming birthday -- what present to get, who to order the cake from, and who to invite to a small party. We talked and made decisions, but I never stopped jerking off, and my sister lingered until after I'd finished shooting a load all over my torso. After that, she came up once or twice a week "at the right times" to chat and watch me masturbate! Despite her seeming unhappiness to my nudity and other "activities" in front of Christine, Ellen, and Jenni, I think this showed that she was okay with it.

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There may be another chapter in the future.. If you have comments, likes, or dislikes, write to the email address below. 

Now, I’d like to know something about my readers! Did you have siblings growing up? If so, how did you handle your morning routine around the house? Were you fully dressed? Or, not? Were you like Parker and wearing only your underwear until leaving for school? Or merely shirtless? Qr wearing less than Parker? What about other parts of the day? If you weren't fully dressed, was that normal in your family? Was anything ever said to you? Or, was your family fine with your choice? Let me know at [email protected]