Date: Sun, 21 Feb 2016 05:46:16 -0600
From: jason.kason@manlymail.net
Subject: Rules of Masturbation Part 1

RULES OF MASTURBATION
by Jason Kason

jason.kason@manlymail.net
dirty-shorts.tumblr.com

~~~~~~

RULE NUMBER ONE

A few months after my dad died, I came across some of the paperwork from
the boys' boarding school he and my mother sent me off to when I was
thirteen.  Most of it was just bundled invoices, faded letters and termly
reports, but there among the yellowed sheets I found the old school rules
I'd had to follow.

'Rules Of Behaviour of Boys in Class'; 'Rules of Conduct in the Dining
Hall'; 'Rules of Dress during Prayers and at Service'; 'Rules of Authorised
Absences'.

And so it went on, page upon page of dictums and regulations.

I was about to toss the whole wodge of dusty papers into the rubbish bag
when I came across one last list of instructions that I'd long since
forgotten about: 'Rules of Masturbation'.

I smiled at the faded typewritten rules.  The boys around school used to
refer to this among themselves as the 'hand book', even though it was just
a single foolscap sheet of eight headmaster-approved directives.

I reminded myself, all these years later, of how rule number one was worded
and chuckled as I read it:

1. Boys must not masturbate in communal dormitories, even when alone.
Masturbation is only permitted in toilet cubicles when doors are locked.

That was a joke for a start.  All the boys in my dorm used to enjoy a
hearty bout of cock-bashing every night, the six of our scratchy
school-issue blankets thumping noisily up and down as soon as the lights
were out and the door had closed behind the prefect.

The first night I'd arrived at the school as a terrified thirteen year old,
it had seriously bothered me that I wasn't going to be able to play with my
dick when I was lying in bed.  At home I spent pretty much every night
giving it a good polishing before I went to sleep, something my dad must
have heard in full swing from my bedrooom door because he referred to it as
'the nasty habit'.

In the week before I was sent off to the school, my dad had read out the
school rules I was going to have to follow, including those relating to the
nasty habit.  I'd imagined padding my way to the bathroom each night red
faced and feeling mortified that everyone would know what my hand was going
to do to my stiff little pecker behind the locked door.

But it turned out that the boys in my dorm, like me, very much embraced the
nasty habit and that first night set the standard that I was to follow for
the next four years.

Once we were all on our own in the darkness, a gentle beating sound had
started up from the bed opposite mine.  I'd thought that maybe the boy - a
big fifth former whose pyjama bottoms I'd noticed tenting upwards when he'd
come back from brushing his teeth - was scratching himself and that it just
happened to be going on for a long time.  But then his slow, quiet beating
had steadily quickened into a harder slapping rhythm which had continued to
grow louder and faster until it was an overtly masturbatory thudding.

He must surely know that his five dorm-mates would recognise the sounds of
what seemed like a very big cock being stroked at full whack, but he made
no attempt to hide what he was doing and if anything seemed to revel in the
racket he was making.

I'd wondered if another boy would call out for him to do that sort of thing
in the bathroom - it was rule number one, after all - but the only response
from the others in the dorm was that the same thumping sound started up
from the bed right next to me.

"Is this a joke?" I'd thought, then, "Maybe they're testing me to see if
I'm stupid enough to ask them what they're doing..."

One by one the other three boys' hands had joined in until soon the room
was filled with the steamtrain chugging of five fists thundering against
five gaping pyjama flies.

If this was a joke, it was very convincing.  I could smell their sweat and
the odour of their cocks wafting over from where their elbows were making
their blankets lift upwards.  It was different from mine - stronger and
more sour - but then these boys were all older than me with hairier bodies
and bigger, smellier cocks.  The youngest was fourteen - just a year above
me - while the two oldest a towering sixteen and seemed like big,
full-grown men to a mere youngster like me.

The frantic fist-banging continued, growing even louder and more forceful,
and I could hear some of the boys quietly panting like I would if I was
doing the same thing at home.

Surely this was no joke, I was telling myself.  These were the
unmistakeable sounds of five horny young men enjoying some late night
self-loving under their blankets before they went to sleep.

For some reason the idea of this could be for real had made my own cock
tingle as it had started to grow inside the front of my own Paisley pyjama
bottoms.

They couldn't really be jerking their five pricks off, though, could they?
They hadn't said anything out of the ordinary before getting into bed and
apart from the fifth former's big stickie-out tent lifting his nightwear so
prominently upwards, I hadn't noticed that any of the others were horny.

I suddenly had a thought and smiled in my bed.

I reckoned they were they just bashing their hands up and down against
their blankets to try and get me to join in so they could laugh at me when
the prefect had switched on the light and I was the only one with my hand
wrapped around my boner.

After all, I had to remember rule number one and that I was the newbie in
the dorm.

However, the more I heard them and the stronger the sour, cheesy odour got,
the more convinced I was that there were five dicks of different shapes and
sizes being rapidly pumped alongside me in five sweaty palms.

Just then the door to our dorm swung open and the commotion ceased with an
almost automatic abruptness.  The shape of the housemaster loomed through
it, silhouetted by the light in the corridor.

"What's going on in here?" a deep voice asked gruffly.  He was an old bloke
called Atkins who always stank of smoke.

My dorm-mates lay still with their blankets bulging upwards at crotch
level.

"Wha...?  What's goin' on?" the boy nearest to the door muttered, and
groaned as if disturbed from only just drifting off to sleep.

"Oh... er... goodnight, gentlemen," the housemaster barked and shut the
door, darkening the room again.

All of the fists started up again at full frantic whack; not just five now
but six as mine took up the same rhythm.

I was surprised at how good it felt to wank my dick off lying there next to
my new dorm-mates.  There was a sense of the six of us being a team - of
there being an almost fraternal connection between us.  Whether the bond
was being forged from the togetherness of all so flagrantly defying rule
number one together, or whether it was more simply the fact of us enjoying
sex in each other's company, I'm not sure, but as I lay there among fellow
rule-breakers and masturbators, I felt a warm, cosy feeling of belonging to
the group.

Not a bad first night at a new school, all things considered.

The door was flung open again as the housemaster reappeared to find out
where all the muffled thumping was coming from.

This time six fists stopped dead in their tracks.

"What is going on in here?" he asked, coming further into the room than he
had last time and peering about.

The boy across from me grinned, seeing how the middle of my blanket was
poking steeply upwards just like the other five in the room.

The housemaster glared at me so I suggested, "I think it was
the... er... plumbing, sir..."

He stared at me intently and said, "I'll get Watkins to take a look at it."

And then, his eyes moving downwards to where my hand on my stiffie was
making a lump under the blanket, added, "A gentleman sleeps with his hands
down by his side."

I moved my hand onto the mattress next to me so that the lump deflated and
the blanket settled to reveal the unmistakable shape of my hard-on and two
birds egg nuts poking outwards through the fly of my pyjama bottoms.

I blushed a deep scarlet, seeing his surprise that the new boys was
presenting such a conspicuous erection on his very first night.  But there
was nothing I could do but just lie there with the stiffened rod of my cock
making a six-inch ridge through the thin material of the blanket.

He stared at it, maybe hoping it was something as innocent as a torch, but
then deciding that the two stumpy mounds at the base of it were almost
certainly a large pair of testicles, said, "You might need to spend a few
minutes in a toilet cubicle, Kason, to attend to... er... your own
plumbing..."

My cheeks burned hotter: I'd had to take tea in this man's study this
afternoon with my father chatting to him as if I wasn't there.  It had all
been so civilised - me in my crisp, new school uniform and holding my tea
cup and saucer like my dad had instructed me - and now here I was with my
charged-up boner and stickie-out bollocks full of spunk from where I'd
quite obviously been wanking off.

"Thank you, sir," I said, hoping my mortification wouldn't show through in
my voice.  "I'm quite comfortable here."

He nodded and then glanced around the room, seeing all the other boys'
blankets similarly protruding upwards where their hands were holding
hard-ons bigger than mine.  He seemed to decide that on this occasion,
discretion might prove more judicious than interference and so left the six
of us in our own grateful hands.

"Nice one, Kason," one lad called out when the door had closed and the
rhythm of our ministrations had started up with renewed vigour.

"Yeah, you put him in his place," another agreed.  "Why should we have to
trapse down to the cold bathroom?"

Why indeed?

I suspect rule number one was in place because of certain whinging brats
who must have complained to mummy that other boys in their dorm were
getting busy after bedtime making a noisy drumbeat with their fists and
wrists.

It was certainly true that in most other dorms the rule was enforced.
Maybe some sexless sixth-former would send the others off to the bathroom
with their tails between their legs or if you were unlucky enough to have
dorm next to a prefects' room it was likely that you'd be overheard
flouting rule number one.  I soon found out when I'd needed a pee in the
hour or so after lights-out, that the bathroom was full of queues of boys
holding the fronts of their dressing gowns closed, waiting their turn to
use the cubicles.

It was just in my dorm, we were all more than happy to finish off our days
of study with a well-earned wank and even if we didn't all feel horny every
single night, we didn't mind listening to the others having a long hard tug
until everyone had finished themselves off and we could all roll over and
get some sleep.

I bundled the list of rules back up with the rest of the papers and smiled.
Those were happy days.  From that very first night I'd always enjoyed
masturbating with my dorm-mates, especially when the six of us went for it
at once.  I now realised how much I missed the sense of brotherhood it
engendered among us and, taking all the fusty paperwork downstairs, I
decided I'd read through the rest of the rules over a cup of tea to see
what else I'd forgotten about my school days.

~~~~~~

jason.kason@manlymail.net
dirty-shorts.tumblr.com

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