Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 TEACHING ME TO CUM - mm Mast

   Copyright (c) 2009 by AL X

   -------------------------------------------------------------

   This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material.  It is NOT
suitable for minors.  If you are a minor, LEAVE NOW as it is illegal for
you to be here.  If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit
material in your community, LEAVE NOW.  If you are offended by sexually
explicit stories, LEAVE NOW.  This story and characters are purely
fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is
purely coincidental.  These stories are pure fiction and do not promote or
condone the activities described herein, especially when it comes to unsafe
sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.

   You may link to this story from non-commercial or free sites, but you
may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.

   -------------------------------------------------------------



   Secret Sissy - Episode 2



   "Teaching Me to Cum"



   by Al X



   My sexual awakening began at 13, when my best friend Bill got me to rub
his hardon through his pants in a deserted theater.  I rubbed him until he
came, and then he made me feel the wet spot.  Afterwards I felt confused
and embarrassed.  I wasn't sure about myself: Did I really do that?  Had I
enjoyed it?  And had that act made me a fag, a sissy?

   I was also confused about Bill.  I was surprised at how in control he
was, how dominant.  He knew what he wanted and he got me to do it.  He was
always the leader in our friendship, and now had led me to new territory.
His power over me scared me.  It scared me even more to think that I had
enjoyed it.

   But we didn't speak about the experience.  For the next several weeks we
saw each almost every day and did all the normal things - school, football,
playing pinball at the local sub shop, hanging out in the neighborhood -
and even went to each other's houses.  But not once did we mention the
theater incident.  It was like it had never happened.

   One Saturday evening he called my house.  "Hey, come on over.  I got
some beer."

   This was a big deal for me - I had just turned 14 - and so I rushed
over. His parents weren't home, so we went up to his room.  He played some
45's on his stereo and we opened our first beer.  It tasted bad but I
forced myself to drink it and quickly got a little buzz.

   We were on our second beer when Bill started talking about sex,
specifically about what girls turned him on and what he would like to do
with him.  I enjoyed the banter and mentioned some girls I liked as well.

   "Guess what else I got," he said as he reached under his bed.  He
watched my curious expression and then slid out two glossy magazines -
Hustler and Cheri.  "I got them from my cousin Mark." Mark was two years
older than us, a bully I never cared for.

   He slid one of them across the carpet to me - I was sitting on the floor
- and picked up the other.  He lay on the bed and began leafing through it.
A minute later he finished his second beer and opened a third can.  "Man,
it's going down good tonight," he said like a pro.

   I was cautious about the magazines, not wanting another boy-boy
experience, and Bill must have sensed this, for he said, "Don't worry.  You
sit there on the floor, and I'll sit up here on the bed.  I promise."

   I was glad that he didn't actually mention the theater incident.  Maybe
he was also embarrassed by it.  I moved the magazine in front of me and
opened it.  I sipped my beer and leafed through, looking at pictures of
women flashing their breasts and asses, and a pictorial of a couple having
sex (the woman holding the man's semi-hard penis in her hands)

   "Man I'd love to shove my cock in this one," Bill said.  He was laying
on the bed, sideways, facing me.  His hand was between his legs, rubbing
himself slowly.

   "Yeah, this chick is so hot," I said.

   He turned a page, rubbed himself some more, then looked over to catch my
gaze.  "Are you getting hard, too?"

   I was uncomfortable and didn't want to answer.  I knew it was OK to get
hard looking at naked women, but I didn't want to talk about my hardon to
another guy.

   Bill smiled.  "Hey, we're guys.  It's what we do."

   Feeling relaxed from the beer, I accepted his logic.  I nodded, and
returned to my magazine.  I looked at some more pictures and finished my
can of beer.

   "Doesn't it feel so good when you cum?" he asked.

   I looked over and watched him rubbing himself through his pants, not shy
in the least.  I hated to admit that I had never cum before, and was trying
to come up with a lie.

   "Or hasn't that happened yet?"

   God, he was intuitive.  I hemmed and hawed, then reluctantly shook my
head.

   "God, it's awesome.  Nothing else feels as good." He started rubbing
himself faster.  "Just do this," he told me.  "Just like me."

   I was sitting cross-legged (Indian style, we called it in those days)
and positioned my right hand atop my thigh.  I was scared a hell.

   "Look, it's no big deal." To prove it he unsnapped the top button of his
pants, lowered the zipper, and slid his hand there.  He rubbed his penis
over his underwear.  "This doesn't make us queers.  We're not touching each
other.  And you know that all guys do it."

   His reasoning was flawless.  And reassuring.

   "Just do it," he coaxed, and with that he turned to look at his
magazine.

   Freed from his watch I moved my hand to my crotch and did some tentative
rubbing.  I was hard.  Looking at the porno magazines got me excited, and
the beer buzz helped too.  And, to be honest, seeing Bill rubbing himself
was also something of a thrill.

   The more I rubbed, the better it felt, and the more relaxed I became.  I
didn't even mind when Bill looked over at me and asked: "Feels damn good,
don't it?"

   "Yeah," I smiled.

   "It feels better under your pants." I noticed his pants had been lowered
almost down to his knees.  His erection was poking against his underwear.
"Hey, you don't have to worry about anyone coming in - my folks aren't
coming home till late."

   Once again, he returned to looking at his magazine, giving me the
privacy I needed to take the next step.  I looked at some more dirty
pictures, then held my breathed and dared to do it: I unsnapped my pants,
unzipped, and began to fondle myself through my underwear.

   "Better, right?"

   I looked over to see Bill smiling.  "Yes, it is."

   "Wait till you cum.  You are going to love the feeling.  It's awesome.
You're going to want to do it everyday.  "

   To take another swig of beer, he removed his hand from his crotch,
giving me a good view of his hardon.  When he set the beer down, he moved
his legs to the floor so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.  He
pushed his pants down his legs, until they were a pile on the floor, with
his feet still covered.  He rubbed himself through his underwear, then
said. "It's even better without anything on." With that he tugged at the
waistband of his underwear and freed his cock.  With a quick motion he
pulled his underwear down to the floor, then remained sitting at the edge
of the bed, with his legs spread about two feet apart.  He placed his right
hand on his shaft and began a slow up and down motion.  "Go 'head and try
it."

   I remained sitting, rubbing myself.

   "Look, do you want to cum or not?"

   Of course I did, but I was afraid.

   "I'm not gonna tell anyone.  This is our secret."

   By now I was really turned on and even more relaxed from the beer.  And
I was under Bill's control.  I see that now.  Although the night seemed to
have been totally spontaneous, I realized later that Bill had orchestrated
everything.  He had provided beer to get me relaxed and magazines to get me
turned on, then got me comfortable with sex, offered assurances, and
promised secrecy.  He controlled me not through threats and violence, but
through these gentle, almost imperceptible tactics.  And, of course, I
proved to be his willing submissive.

   "Just push your pants down," he instructed.

   I complied, I lifted my butt and started to push them down but realized
it would be easier if I lifted myself to a kneeling position.  One like
that, the pants slid down to my knees.  I was just about to sit back down
when Bill said:

   "Stay like that."

   I looked at him, surprised.

   "Trust me.  It will feel better."

   Who was I to argue?  I knelt there and rubbed myself through my
underwear.

   "Is your cock hard?"

   His question startled me, but it was too late for me to stop, too late
turn back.  "Yeah."

   "Take it out.  Go 'head."

   I moved my hands to the waistband of my underwear and tugged them down
to my knees.

   "Grab it like this," Bill ordered.

   This forced me to look up at him, to watch him stroke his cock.  I
wrapped my hand around mine and followed suit.  When he told me to move
faster I did so.

   "How does that feel?"

   "Good."

   "Let me show you how to make it feel better." He reached over to his
nightstand, opened the drawer, and took out a small bottle of lotion. 
"Watch this," he said as he squirted some white cream in his palm and then
returned to jerking himself.  I kept staring at his cock, all the while
stroking myself.

   He held the bottle out, "Come and get some."

   As if hypnotized I obeyed and stared to move over.  With my pants at my
knees I did a sort of crawl until I was a few feet from him.  I held out my
hand and he squirted some lotion in my palm.  I started to crawl back, but
Bill said.  "Stay." His voice had a strange sternness, but I didn't object.
Instead, I obeyed.

   "Rub it all over your cock," he told me, and I applied the cold lotion
up and down my shaft.

   "Now, wrap your hand around it, firmly," and I did.

   "Now, move your hand up and down just like this."

   So there I was, on my knees, kneeling on the floor before him, staring
at his cock while I was jerking off, following his every command.

   "See the head of my cock?," he asked as he touched it with the
forefinger of his other hand.  "That's the most sensitive part.  Grab it
like this."

   I moved my left hand to cup the head of my cock, while still tugging up
and down at the shaft.

   "You're doing it good.  You're going to cum soon, I know it."

   I was getting close (although I didn't know it at the time) and getting
lost in the moment, and so fully under his spell that it didn't upset me
when Bill suddenly said, "Look at me," commanding me to look up at him. 
His tone was firm, his face serious.  Peripherally I could tell he was
still beating off.  "Do you enjoy playing with your cock?"

   "Yes."

   "How does a cock feel in your hands?" (Not 'your cock' but 'a' cock, a
difference I didn't fully understand at the time.)

   "Nice."

   "Do you like giving yourself a handjob?"

   "Yes."

   "You're going to want to give handjobs everyday, aren't you?" His
phrasing was a bit off, a bit confusing, but before I could protest he
asked, "Aren't you?" in an even stronger tone.

   And I was feeling so good, so intense, that I had to answer, "Yes, I
guess."

   "You're going to want a cock in you hands every day, aren't you?"

   I shook my head.  My breathing was heavier.  I was feeling things I had
never felt before.

   "You're going to cum, aren't you?"

   "Yeah, I think so."

   "Watch me cum as you do," he said, and he looked down at his crotch,
which indicated to me that I was to follow suit.  "Look at my hard cock,"
he said as he rubbed himself faster.  "Get ready to see it spurt cum all
over."

   I was getting closer, more turned on, and unaware at the time that he
was using one final trick on me - he was going to have me associate the
thrill of orgasm with his cock.  Unbeknownst to me, the memory of my first
orgasm would forever be tied with the memory of kneeling before him,
staring at his hard cock.

   And then he arched his back and used his hand to point his penis towards
me.  "What is this?" he asked, his voice throaty.

   "Your cock," I answered.

   "What is it?" He resumed jerking it, faster and faster.

   "Your cock." I matched his tempo and started feeling something flowing
inside me.

   "Say it," he demanded, as his hands suddenly filled up with milky fluid.

   "Your cock." I got hotter and hotter, and I watched him keep pumping,
and two more times he made me say, " Your cock....  Your cock." And when he
stopped pumping and opened his his palm, he made me say, "Your cum... Your
cum..."

   And kneeling there before him, between his stretched legs, staring at
his still erect cock and his hands full of cum, I suddenly felt the urge to
pee, and then fluid running through my groin, and a daze in my head, and
suddenly my hand too was filling up with cum, my cock gushing forth,
spewing cum, my heart pounding, my breathing hard.  I went dizzy, and time
stopped, and it felt incredible.

   And then I fell back on the backs of my legs and tried to come to my
senses.  Bill sat there smiling proudly.  "You did it!  You came.  How was
it?"

   I couldn't answer.  I couldn't find words to articulate how awesome it
felt.  I just smiled and nodded, and looked down at my hands and penis. 
And remembered Bill's words from before: "You're going to want to have a
cock in you hands every day, aren't you?"



   For more stories by Al X and to send comments to the author, visit
www1.asstr.org/~ALX/index.html