Date: Mon, 04 Aug 2003 12:59:32 -0700
From: Bob Stardog105 <stardog105@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Sexual Childhood: Cousin Malcolm -- Part 1 of 3

"What..do..you..want..to..do?" Malcolm whispered each word separate to avoid
the possibility that it could be recognized as speech and so close to my ear
that even if someone was in the same room they could not hear the sounds.

I turned, whispered back in the same way, "I..don't.. know..."

I waited in the silence, in the dark. Could not rush this, his commitment.

Malcolm whispered back, very tentative, "Let's " suck."

Since there were only two choices on the menu this selection was not
unexpected. And it had the great value that it did not preclude the other
choice a bit later, where as for the reverse, our standards of hygiene
precluded sucking after fucking.

Wow, I thought this is really great. And he was even being aggressive in
handling me, something I'd not expected. Yeah, tonight will be a full
experience. We were all of 12 or 13, could fuck like mink half the night,
each of us come 2 or 3 times by morning, and were full of sperm when next
night we'd get in bed with each other. It was heaven.

We'd started 1 or 2 years before and we'd continue until both of us were in
our 20"s. As first cousins we had lots of opportunity to be together and we
took advantage of it. Looking back I can see that sometimes our parents
encouraged our night time intimacy but can't really say this was their
intention. They sure thwarted our plans enough times to be convincing that
we were to behave if they suspected anything unusual going on.

The relationship between Malcolm and me changed wildly as we grew. First off
we were not similar in our personalities. He was always much more laid back
than me, much more willing to try something and drop it. I was high strung
and went overboard on everything. Then as we grew I became fixated on sex,
Malcolm found it (especially with me) to be quite optional. This tipped the
equilibrium between us. At some point he was fending me off while I was
inconsiderately pushy. Probably as I became more boy crazy Malcolm lost all
interest in that direction, branching out to the other gender for any
comfort he wished. Since such discord does not improve the narrative of our
sexual interaction, I'll avoid bringing it up later, but that does not mean
that there was not a lot going on otherwise. And since we had ten plus years
of sexual adventures, I'll break things into snippets, generally
chronological, to give a sense of the progression. Its not history, more
like flashes of memory.

xxx

Malcolm was 9 months younger than me, maybe designed to be my play-time pal.
No telling. Both he and I were spared the trauma of circumcision because his
older brother had received a botched job that required a second go when he
was a toddler, creating a lot of suffering, too much to put any future sons
through. Growing up we spent all holidays, vacations and about half the
weekends together as a combined family.

Early together, I could have been 6 or I could have been 9, I vividly
remember one visit to his house. When we got out of the car, there he was
outside the door on the walkway waiting for--me. He'd seen us drive up and
came out to greet--me. I was so glad to see him too. In a surge of fondness
my impulse was to run up and hug him. I immediately recognized the impulse
was not appropriate. It would be misunderstood or, worse, recognized,
recognized as not normal or conventional between to little boys. I
refrained, especially due to my knowledge that Malcolm would be the first to
recognize how in error my action was. I would have embarrassed him. I did
not want to do that, ever.

Up until middle school we were always underfoot of our families and although
sleeping in the same room had separate beds, consistent with the family
sense of propriety and also because Malcolm wet the bed. I had a childish
quirk of my own, I rocked myself to sleep. I'd curl up on my side and rock.
We accepted each other's habits, had so since our infancy. They were not
mentioned.

When we reached middle school I discovered masturbation. If there was one
person I wanted to share this with it was Malcolm. We were probably 9 and 10
respectively. After a friendly wrestling bout on a bed I felt that he was
not put off by body contact so I decided that if I could I'd broach the
subject with him. That chance happened later in the weekend visit. We were
out walking in his neighborhood, the first time in the whole visit we could
not be seen or overheard by our families.

When we stopped in an isolated spot to catch our breath, I plunged into my
chance to speak to him in confidence: "You know kids at school talk about
playing "here" (I pointed to my zipper).

I was not being candid.

The furtive talk in school had not prompted me to self-exploration. I did
that free from any external influence. In fact this admission was to be the
first leading to the real topic, partnered sex. For several weeks me and my
neighbor friend Jamie had been masturbating each other, sometimes to
ejaculation. I wanted to see if Malcolm could be persuaded in doing things
with me. It did not occur to me then, nor does it occur to me now, that at
this time we had equal knowledge of sexual activities or equal desire to
experience them. In a sense this was a calculated sexual approach to him,
but there too was my general need to discuss with somebody I trusted the
idea of "playing here."

Malcolm said he'd heard things too.

"It feels good but you can't stop," I ventured.

This was a very clever statement. It could be read as a warning. I could
disavow any suggestion that I'd come on to him. It was an admission about
myself, left open if he would match it with his own.

Malcolm made some acknowledgement. We both conveyed our regret over our
situation.

"Ah, how about we do things together next time I'm down and we can get left
at home when they (our pairs of parents) go out shopping"" I asked him.

"Yeah."

I was a little surprised he agreed, almost automatically. But because we
always were playing at different things this fit that pattern. All that we'd
need was a break.

And we got it.

Sure enough on the next weekend visit our parents arranged to go grocery
shopping. Malcolm and I begged off, got left alone in the house.

We raced to the back bedroom.

"Ah lets wait a couple minutes if they suddenly have to return to pick up
keys or a purse or something,"

We agreed.

In another few minutes we felt it was safe.

We started taking off our clothes, all of them, even shoes and socks.

I had sat on the bed peeling of my slacks and underwear while Malcolm stood
in front of me dropping his jeans.

"Oh," I exclaimed, "you're not circumcised either."

This was a big deal for me. I'd seen Malcolm nude once before that I could
remember but his status had not registered. Now it did. All the other boys I
knew at school and in the neighborhood were cut. I was odd man out. Here I
had a friend who was just like me. Almost.

In short order both of us got stark naked. We stood facing each other, not
quite toe to toe but close.

Malcolm was dark head to foot, like a rich tan. His genitals were small. The
penis, now poking out was 2 inches of wobbly flesh encased in a dark sheath
of skin coming to a drooping squash blossom of a pucker at the long
overhang. His scrotum was equally dark and small.

I was a pasty pink showing none of the taunt muscles Malcolm had. My penis
was fleshy, a thick four-inch white column with veining showing. The
mushroom glans peeped more then half way out of the loose cowl of foreskin.

Of course both of us were as hairless as any newborn. Every dimple and bulge
at the crotch, every curve of the scrotum was perfectly wonderfully obvious.

No doubt we bowed our bodies forward thrusting a stiff penis at each other.

"It's bigger"" Malcolm murmured, obviously bothered by his shortcomings.

"Yeah, [so"]," I replied not worried about it.

"What can we do"" he asked.

Good question. I had not planned anything.

"Ah, lets fuck each other"" I guessed.

I turned my back to him. "Me first."

He walked up close behind me, his penis grazing my amble cheeks.

Malcolm held his position.

"Let me try," I said.

We turned in the opposite direction. I steadied my penis and noticed that
there really was no way to get in anywhere. I nudged up against his flat
tanned behind but just as he had done stopped any movement.

We stepped apart, flummoxed by the complication.

"Let's show how we jack, OK"" I asked.

We stepped several feet apart, stood facing each other, seeing the other
nude head to foot handling his stiff penis.

"No," I said, "you godda do it this way."


I planted my feet wide apart, bent my knees and raised up on my toes,
probably in emulation of the dance pose of Elvis Presley, as I jacked my
erection in a tight fist straight up so I could look at the red knob as it
got capped and covered in the loose skin.

"This is how."

Malcolm took the same pose and began his masturbating in front of me, a
mirror image of me.

He jacked his stiff little penis so his balls jiggled wildly between spread
legs.

It was a fantastic sight. I immediately felt a build up to my ejaculation.

Since we were on a carpet I could not spurt freely leaving "evidence." I
gathered my foreskin over the tip letting it form an envelope and felt wave
after wave of come fill the reservoir at the end.

"I'm jizzing. I'm jizzing," I let Malcolm know.

He stopped his masturbating to watch as I jerked and spasmed in place as if
a puppet whose strings were being pulled.

"Oh. Oh. Wanna see" You wanna see"" I asked as I headed quickly for the
bathroom to release the milky liquid into the toilet.

"Ah, no," he replied.

I cleaned up a little, got back to the bedroom. All of my impetus at sex
totally gone in the trough of slow recovery.

Malcolm was not continuing with his masturbation (maybe he'd done it while I
was gone") and we sort of drifted back into our clothes. We talked about if
he had any pictures to jack off to, but by now the opportunity had passed
both us by. Our parents might be back soon too. We'd better get looking like
nothing happened.

xxx

I had a week or two to go over this adventure in my mind. I am sure I
masturbated constantly in the vision of Malcolm, legs open, bent over to see
his erection, masturbating for me to watch. I worried about the fucking
failure. What was the secret" At some point I got a flash of insight. On the
toilet you pooped cause you sat so if you could get that same posture, legs
up then you could get in with a stiff dick. It was sheer genius. I couldn't
wait to tell Malcolm I'd solved our problem.

At the next visit that is exactly what I did once I got him someplace where
I could whisper my idea to him. He thought it was genius too. We told each
other that now we had to arrange sleeping together so we could do our first
fuck.

His mom was skeptical. "He might pee on you," she warned.

I brushed that off and so it happened we were allowed to sleep in the same
twin bed, his little sister in the other, in the back bedroom, where we'd
had our masturbation demo before.

Both of us were so anxious to jump into bed together we sort of raced into
the bedroom the first chance it looked like the house was going to turn in.
Possibly our general antics were in keeping with this eagerness that it
seemed the usual silliness to our parents and we were left in peace, to
close the door, get down to our underwear and beneath the covers side by
side.

We fervently whispered back and forth if we should wait cause people were
still moving around.

But before we could decide, we both asked each other the important question:
"Are you hard""


The lights were still on so to confirm for each other what we had, we both
opened our briefs, pulling the elastic waistband out and down. We looked
under the tented covers at each other's bare groin.

Yep, we both were hard.

Then, as if it was quite natural and something we had done before, each of
us took the one free hand and gathered up the other's stiff penis to give it
a good feel, probably to determine how hard it was.

Apparently that was not something quickly to decide. Both of us kept rubbing
and holding the other's stiff organ and could not give it up. At the same
time I was feeling, and I'm sure Malcolm did too, these fantastic sensations
at my penis as it was being handled so thoroughly by my partner.

We each slipped our briefs down below our groin so the penis was free to be
explored by the other. We fell into an easy masturbation rhythm together,
each penis being slowly jacked so the skin kept over the head. It was a
delicious sensation to have it done and to do it at the same time. Malcolm's
penis was real stiff in my hand, letting me know he was just as excited as
me.

We slipped our briefs way down our legs.

"Hey, nobody's coming in for a while, let's fuck, OK"" I whispered, our
heads touching as we handled our partner's penis.

"How"" he asked.

"Roll over and pull your knees up," I answered.

A good sport, Malcolm turned his back to me in bed, drew up his knees.

I pressed up close against him, guiding my blind but one eyed dick along the
crease of his behind.

"No," he whispered. "Lower."

I pressed lower. My erection bent down but seemed to point off into nothing.

"Here," Malcolm directed. He reached behind his back, got hold of my
erection and pressed it to his behind while he inched up in the bed, changed
his position so he was at more of an angle to me.

"There," he said.

I took over the holding to steady it so it would not slip off mark.

I pressed forward.

As if by magic there was a feeling of moving forward, inside. Wow.

I pressed more and repositioned my hips closer, not letting the contact
point move. It went in some more. The penis head felt like it was inside,
like it was being kissed.

I leaned forward again and the penis went inside to below the head. The
foreskin had peeled back and the tightness was now down on my shaft, not
total but for a good half way I was inside Malcolm's behind.

"Yikes !!!" Malcolm yelped, turning his head slightly in surprise toward me.

Oh, Oh, I thought. Hope no body heard that. The room light was still on. At
anytime people could open the door and walk in.

No body did.

Malcolm lay his head back down, let his body relax totally as he stayed
curled up next to me.

It was sure time for him to get fucked.

Novice that I was I lightly tested, withdrawing a fraction and pressing in a
fraction.

Malcolm lay there utterly comfortable.

I increased the length of my strokes, feeling how my foreskin got stripped
off the bulbous head on the in stroke and covered it back as I withdrew to
the edge. It was a delicious feeling. I was inside Malcolm, my penis working
up and back in his hot behind. On each deep push in the uncovered head to my
penis was engulfed in the most exciting hot moist surface rubbing against
it. My shaft was being milked tight by his tiny hole muscle too. It was
fantastic.

Without too many strokes I began squirting all my jizz. Shot after shot
streamed into Malcolm's squeezing tunnel. I pressed in as deep as possible
letting the foreskin strain back from the head, pushing the shaft all the
way in, giving me the feel of his cheeks against me. I was motionless as
spurt after spurt came from me. Malcolm must have felt the throb-throb-throb
as each jolt went in him.

Then I sort of refocused, realizing my erection was wilting inside his
behind and that the lights were still on, the door might open soon. What
were we to do?"

Again I was totally, instantly, disinterested in sex. (Wow, what a selfish
little pig.)

"Get up, go to the bathroom to clean [and come right back]," I suggested.
How did I know if he would leak or if he had to poop it out or what?"

Every willing, Malcolm got back in his shorts and tottered off to the
bathroom, opening the door to the hall, still showing lights there and
sounds of people in different stages of preparing for bed. I heard him make
it to the bathroom, close the door.

I waited.

He did not come back, minute by minute. What was going on?"

It seemed (again) like the opportunity has passed. (And of course I'd
already come, right") So with not much fuss I left the room, got bedding
from my parents and made a place to sleep in the living room. I did not see
Malcolm again that night.

The next day he came up to me, asked "Why did you go"" (This proves not only
that he came back to his bed looking for me and sex last night but that he
was sexually needy after our first masturbation session when I'd come first
leaving him in the lurch.)

I (piggily) replied, "Got tired waiting."

In his good grace Malcolm smiled, accepted my answer.

Of course such lofty sensitivities on my part quickly evaporated once I got
a sperm build up again. Then I could only think of fucking, fucking,
fucking, both ways the next chance we got.

xxx

On the next visit we were able to get both twin beds in his bedroom. No
little sister, just the two of us behind a closed door. Still there were
complications, the bed springs squeaked, we could be suddenly walked in on,
whatever we said could be overheard easily. Using some care and receiving
lots of dumb luck we were able to evade getting caught, though it did limit
our sexual combinations. This was abetted by my latest brain storm, oral
sex.

On a school wall I saw an obscene sketch showing two men in 69 position one
above the other sucking each other's dicks. I was shocked. My sense of
hygiene did not admit for such activity without dire health consequences,
not from the ejaculation (which of course I was unwilling to imagine
receiving at all) but from the "dirty" penis itself. Still, my fevered
imagination turned the idea over and over coming to the conclusion that with
Malcolm since we shared the same germs anyway we would not come to harm.

Behind the closed door, still with the lights on before the whole household
had gone to bed we talked in hushed tones, discussing our options. I brought
up the idea of oral sex. "Hey, everybody talks about "Blow-Jobs" so it must
be alright, right""

Malcolm did not immediately take to the idea.

"Well," I ventured, "let's make it a game. The loser has to do the winner,
"n that way it makes it fair."

He agreed with my unerring logic.

The game was to guess a number from 1 to 10 in three tries with the hints of
"higher" "lower" given after each guess. (We trusted each other to not cheat
since the winning number was not written down anywhere.)

Not surprisingly I was the one giving the answers and Malcolm lost in three
guesses on our first round.

"But you can't shoot jizz," he required as he got up from his bed, came over
to mine.

I agreed.

I was totally naked, having pulled off my underwear once under covers. I
folded back the bed clothes revealing my very hard erection that I'd been
fondling while the game progressed.

Malcolm bent over and pursed his lips somewhere about half way down the
bursting shaft.

He kept that position not moving at all, providing the minimal effort to
have completed his forfeit.

But the sensation was fantastic anyway, just as consuming hot as when I'd
fucked his behind.

I was able to see how he held it in the tight ring of his lips, kept his
cheeks out so they would not brush the tip.

"Blow it," I ordered.

He puffed his cheeks out. Of course it did nothing for the sensation.

He released it from his lips, making sure that his mouth was way open as he
pulled back so my penis did not benefit from any accidental contact.

What a gyp.

Oh well.

We decided that since he'd done it first we didn't need the game again to
determine who should do it next.

The house was quieting down. Lights had gone off. We decided that I'd risk
getting into bed with him.

I turned off our light, crawled up along side of him in bed.

His briefs were down. My hands found his struggling erection poking up at
attention. I slipped lower in the bed, bent over him, tented under the
covers. Holding his shaft I popped the penis well into my mouth, licking it
all over and compressing my cheeks so it felt squeezed root to foreskinned
tip.

Malcolm lay flat to the bed, soaking up the sensations.

I puffed up my cheeks, did the "blowing" thing, obviously not eliciting
anything from my supine beneficiary. I reverted to sucking his dick, moving
the mouth smoothly up and down the wet shaft, feeling his bunch of foreskin
against my tongue. I raised slightly up so my tongue could tease the opening
bud of the gathered skin, worming its way in. It unfolded under the probing,
letting my tongue get a full dose of the taste of his inner skin and glans,
a rich mix of stickiness, pee and smegma. It was so exciting to have this
unexpected contact.


I steadied his erection at the shaft just below the flange of the head so I
could slip my pointed tongue in further along the outer rim of the pointed
glans where it was at a tight "v" made between it and the sleeve of covering
foreskin, More sexy flavors and odors flowed into me.

Malcolm bucked his hips. Sensation overload. Ouch.

Sorry.

I took out my tongue, sucked his penis in way deep but kept the sore head
covered. Slowly I let it slip out of my tight mouth, leaving is sticky wet
from tummy to puckered foreskin.

We lay side by side together, hands crossed in mutual masturbation. For not
the last time I squirted quick as a bunny. Malcolm took longer and shot
sticky dribbles that trickled on my fingers as he wilted to a tiny squiggle.

xxx


My middle name should be "misfire" for the accidents I endured. Two come to
mind.

After a day of messing with each other, such as slipping several times
unobtrusively into the bathroom together to whip out our dicks through our
pants to compare size, holding them horizontal one on the other, rubbing
their skinned heads to each other (getting them "introduced"), and pressing
them up, dick belly to dick belly for a quick joint jacking session, Malcolm
and I would go to bed at night fully primed with all the jizz we could
carry.

And in bed while we waited for the house to settle we'd sneak peeks of each
other laying there nude, cop a feel of each other's genital package, just
adding more pressure to our bulging immature glands.

incident one

Malcolm had agreed he'd suck on me to start off the night's sexual
entertainment. The lights in the room were still on, people were moving
around elsewhere but we felt we could sneak this little enjoyment in now.

He came over to my bed. I lifted off the covers showing him my stiff dick.
He immediately bent over placing it deep in his mouth though with only
contact at his pursed lips. His unexpected quick action, and seeing fully,
totally, my hard dick in his mouth triggered an orgasm.

I reached up and pressed his forehead. He raised up just as the first spurt
of jizz leapt out over my belly and chest, followed by several more in
dramatically rapid shots.

Malcolm made it back into his bed before my last dry throb.

incident two

Same situation, naked in bed, lights on, door closed. Malcolm and I were
talking over what all we wanted to do, the game, ah should we suck or fuck"
etc. I was manipulating myself with both hands, working my nuts so hard they
felt like they would crack, and my dick was stiff to the point of permanent
unbendability. To pace myself I'd jack it a bit, just to tease, then release
it to throb seconds from explosion. All the while looking at Malcolm,
knowing he was masturbating too in his separate bed.

In the very quiet house, hardly any talking left, there was the slam of a
door. I'd just released my dick from a hard jacking, not more than a second
between stopping its torment and the big Bang of the door. That was all it
took. I felt the coil up of my orgasm and next I knew my free dick was
spewing jizz like it was a fire hose.

This time I whispered a lame excuse to my patient partner, "I've had it for
tonight, sorry."

xxx

Fucking seemed to be a favorite between us. It had no liability to Malcolm
that sucking with its mouthful of tastes offered. But since we were in
separate beds and coupling up under covers opened the chance for a discovery
that could not be reasonably explained away we opted for masturbation and
the occasional trade of a suck, Malcolm always getting more than me and
maybe more than he wanted.

But I do remember one fuck, this time my own.

Not sure where the other memories of fucking between us before the first and
this time went to but they happened. This one incident benefited from
earlier experiments.

We were in separate beds discussing what we might do. Malcolm cut through
the talk to say he wanted to fuck me.

We agreed that once the lights were out then he could move over to me.

Eventually lights went out, the house quieted to absolute silence. Malcolm
stealthily poured himself out of bed onto the carpet to minimize creaking of
springs to slip next to me as I dangled off my bed, my covers thrown back
exposing me (though in darkness) as naked to his hands. He put his weight on
my bed to climb in but the springs made a racket in the tomb-like silence of
the house.

"We can do it off the side," I whispered in his ear.

I rolled over, pulled my knees up, presented my still ample behind at an
angle to the edge of the bed and even let it hang over some for his complete
access.

He, in pajamas, fished his penis out from the opening. It dangled limp and
dejected, a stage fright victim in these awkward conditions.

I knew it was soft cause I had reached back to guide it in.

"I'll take care of it," I mouthed with hardly any air moving.

His penis was so cute when it was small and soft. It was like a toy for me.
I loved making it rear up stiff and full of jizz to spit.

I massaged it in my hand, milking it toward the sensitive head that rolled
like an oiled ball bearing in the moist sleeve of skin covering. As it
responded, I allowed it to stretch and arch up with easier jacks and pulls
so it was a full pointing erection ready for its big adventure. I made sure
that the tip, covered or bare, nuzzled exactly against my opening, sort of
giving his organ encouragement of where it was going to go. This seemed to
do the trick. Malcolm took over, got his hand around the bone-hard shaft to
steady it for the press in. The small head entered easily, the skinned shaft
plunged in all in one smooth stroke.

Once so nicely established, Malcolm pulled his erection out and pumped it
back home in a set of short hip thrusts, which became longer as he grew more
adventurous. The strokes also became more rapid. At points I'd put my hand
on his hip to have him slow down, be less enthusiastic rather than slip out
of me, and make an ill-aimed lunge to return. He was not discouraged,
tempered his strokes and fucked me soundly as I lay curled passively for
him.

Because of his relatively smaller size I did not get the effect of having my
bottom filled or outer ring stretched, but that was not a great loss.
Malcolm's erection in me kept up a good rhythm pummeling the channel until I
felt very used. I'd feel fucked even the next day.

Malcolm, at a plateau of gratification from this unvarying position, and
maybe tired in his legs and knees, withdrew in a delicious long stroke,
leaving me a hollow sensation needing a stiff dick to remedy. But he was
done. He'd gotten what he wanted.

We masturbated each other to sticky completion. He slinked soundlessly back
to his bed contented in his prolonged fuck session.

xxx

I remember a great little masturbation session we had early one morning, a
time we usually would not be dare but for some reason felt we had a little
window of privacy.

I got his agreement to climb into bed with him, pull the covers up as we
half sat against our pillows with comic books stuck on our laps, presumably
reading together. Of course the reality was that each had snaked his penis
through the slit in briefs and pajama bottoms to poke out belligerently
under the tent of the bedclothes to give access to our partner's
enthusiastic free hand cleverly hidden from sight. While this kept our balls
properly snugged up in clothing, our dicks strained like goose necks from
the slit in our lower wear. At times I'd raise the curtain so to speak on
the proceedings checking how excited our dicks looked once jacked into a
nice lather. I'm sure Malcolm took a good look to see if he was catching up
with me and in the general enjoyment of a vision of ourselves being handled
so beguilingly by a partner who knew what to do with us once we got hard.

Because of Malcolm's sensitivity I refrained from peeling him back during
his masturbation and he, possibly not aware of that pleasure, did not skin
me. We would just keep jacking along the shaft, letting the skin rub over
the flange and expose the knob incidentally. It offered immense
gratification, in my experience. So much sensation that I was often ready to
spurt so had to take his hand off me to let my dick bob free to cool off.
Malcolm was not hesitant in resuming its torment once more, leading me to
remove his hand again in a shorter interval. (And in this current situation
I didn't want to squirt over my pajamas so had to eventually have him stop
handling me at all.)

But Malcolm was wired differently. He never had spontaneous ejaculations
like me. He would squirt only after a variety of activity, getting enjoyment
from all he could before wanting to wrap things up. Masturbation was the
capper for him. It developed the intensity he needed to push him over into
orgasm. After the sucking, after the fucking, after trading masturbation
(with me stopping him frequently from triggering me to come) he would want
to close things down. I'd come, effortlessly, his mere touch by then. That
out of the way he'd lay back and I'd begin on him, leading him through
stages of excitement until his thoroughly manipulated dick spurted, the
dribbles more copious as the months of our secret activities drifted by.

I got a great sense of completion from getting him to jizz. We both dropped
off to sleep totally fulfilled.

Or so we thought.

We had yet to arrive into teenage where our hormones kicked in, giving our
bodies a depth of sensation, our imaginations a widening scope to bring us
into a higher level of sex with each other.

And for what its worth, Malcolm never wet the bed again and I never had to
rock myself to sleep again when we'd had sex.

Comments? Questions? What to share your experience? Write me at
stardog105@hotmail.com