I WANNA JACK YOU OFF                -  CHRISTOPHER STREET BBS A TRUE STORY
(MOSTLY) - by PUMPER   -     (201) 992-5660

C'Etait une experience trs erotique que je n'oublierai jamais.

It was summer and I had just returned home from my first year  at college.  I
had been attending a large church-affiliated  university which had an excellent
reputation for its  educational standards but which, in my case, proved to be
unbearably repressive as far as sex was concerned.  All these  gorgeous gay
guys (I could tell from the looks they gave me on the sly) but all of them,
myself included, too uptight to even think about touching another guy except
for the usual  slap-on-the-butt jock shit.

Anyway, little did I know that my summer vacation at home in  Georgia would be
a lot different from the routine at school.   If I had known before hand what
that summer held in store, I  don't think I could have waited out two full
semesters.   Summers in Georgia are very hot and humid so people tend to  dress
cool.  I decided to look for a pair of white cotton  slacks and went to one of
the large department stores downtown to see if I could find what I wanted.

The retail clerk in the mens department was a foxy  upper-classman I had seen
before on campus--but always with a  girl on each arm. I spotted him from
halfway across the  store--or rather, I spotted his ASS from halfway across the
store; he was bending over looking for some stock under a  counter.  Oh, but
when he turned around--that was the coup de grace!  It was all I could do to
keep from staring.  Finally, I got so intimidated I decided to leave,
besides--I couldn't  find any slacks in my size.  Just as I started walking
away, I heard a man's polite southern accent behind me:

"Excuse me sir.  Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Uh, ahh, umm, well no.  I'm looking for some white cotton slacks".

"We just got some in but I haven't had a chance to put them  out yet; what is
your waist size"?

"Size 30".

"I think you might like the new Calvin Kleins.  Why don't you go back to a
dressing room and I'll be right there".

I walked down a long hallway with about ten curtained booths on either side and
went in the last one on the right.  It  seemed like I had only been in there
for a couple of seconds  when I turned around and there he was with a pair of
slacks on his arm.  He smiled at me, drew the curtain behind him and  said:

"Let's try these on for size" as he handed me the slacks.

I had never been in a situation like this before.  I mean,  God!!  Here I am,
getting all turned on by this super-hunk,  straight college jock while he
expects me to strip right in  front of him and try on some pants. I tried my
best to  mentally will my hardon soft but there was no way!! I stepped out of
my jeans and hoped that he hadn't seen the wet spot on my jockeys and the
throbbing bulge underneath.  I started to  tuck my shirt in when he said:

"That's OK, leave your shirt out for now".

I didn't understand why he would make a request like that but  I complied,
zipping the fly and buttoning the waist.

The pants were obviously too big, but I waited to hear his  reaction. His face
was right in front of my crotch as he knelt down and ran his hand along the
inseam.  I thought to myself:  if he doesn't watch out, I'm going to go over
the edge!!  He  said that the legs seemed to fit OK and asked me what I
thought--all the time his hand pressed tight up against my balls.

"Yeah, the legs are fine but look at the waist--these must be at least a size
34!!!"

"Let's see.  Are they really that big"?

He stood up and, looking me in the eyes, put his hand inside  the waistband of
the slacks running it from side to side and  said:

"Yeah, you're right.  They are too big but how do they FEEL"?

"Well, you know--they feel loose, kind of..."

"Yeah, I know but how does THIS feel"?

He moved his hand to the inside of the waistband of my jockey shorts, tickling
the hair on my stomach as he continued to run his hand back and forth--his eyes
demanding an acceptable  answer to his question. I was starting to shake with
sexual  excitement.  My breathing, though deep, seemed completely  inadequate.
I was practically unable to speak but the  reaction of my body told this young
stud everything he needed to know.  When he moved his hand down into the wet
pouch of my shorts I thought I would pass out and slumped back against the
wall.  This guy would not let up--THANK GOD!!!  He had his  hand in my shorts
and after playing with my turgid, swollen  balls, began to JACK ME OFF!!!  I
knew I should not be  encouraging him, but I had fantasized about this moment
for  years--it was so easy to just let him DO it! And besides, all  the time he
was stroking my dick he kept asking me:

"How does that feel.....Does that feel good"?  There was no way I could lie.
It felt fucking GREAT!!!

I could feel the cum rising through the root of my cock.  The  feeling of this
stud's hand massaging my slippery, lubricated  cock was more than I could take.
Abruptly, my handsome young  masturbator pulled his hand from my shorts but
there was no  turning back--by this time my cock was so filled with cum that I
HAD TO SHOOT!!  I was overcome by waves of orgasm that  completely saturated my
jockey shorts.  When I finally was  able to speak, I started to tell this guy
what a talented hand he had but he interrupted:

"Excuse me, sir--but--ummm, could I ask you a PERSONAL  question"?

"Yeah, sure".

"Did you just 'POP'"?

"Are you kidding?....Just look at this mess"!!

"WOW"!!!  "I guess you did, huh"?  "Wait here--I'll be right back".

In less than a minute, he returned with a new pair of Jockey  shorts and said:

"Here...let's trade"!

I left without the cotton slacks and often wonder if that guy  is still getting
off on my shorts.  Just thinking about this  experience gets me hot and I love
to jack off on the jockeys  he gave me in return.

But wouldn't you know.......

He gave me size 34!!!