From: at745@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Kael Goodman)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica
Subject: Kael's Diary, September 1983: "Save a Prayer", part one
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Date: 30 Jan 1996 03:56:55 GMT
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Keywords: series m-solo
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Archive-name: kael.9.83-1
"Kael's Diary" is copyright 1994 Millennium Productions and is reprinted
here by permission.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Title: Kael's Diary: September, 1983
<Author's Note: this is one chapter in my on-going sexual self
examination. Theoretically each part should stand on its own and their
chronological order is irrelevant.
"Kael's Diary" is a work of fiction and the people and situations
described herein and from the imagination of its author. Any similarity
to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.>
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Kael's Diary: September, 1983 "Save a Prayer" part one
Do you remember the first time you ever listened through a pair
of feather-weight earphones? Walkman phones? I do. It was two years
earlier, for sure, but I had only just gotten my own pair for my
birthday two months previous and that fresh sensation of having Simon
LeBon actually in the center of my head, singing -- it gave reality a
sense of heightened importance. The music, so rich and over-produced
back then, it seemed to reach from horizon to horizon.
It didn't hurt to be standing on a pier in Maine, overlooking a
large body of dark, peaceful water on a bright warm day in September,
either.
My hair hung heavily over my eyes and ears. I wore a light,
long sleeved dress shirt, yellow, lapels a bit too wide for the fashion,
but I was ingnorant of this. If it was good enough for my brother Max
when he was fifteen, then it was okay by me.
The fact that Max was fifteen in 1976 didn't make any
difference, I didn't know any better.
Corduroy slacks (burgundy) a wide striped tie and a pair of Keds
All-Stars and a pair of sunglasses completed the ensemble. The whole
Goodman clan was gathered here at this odd time of year to see one of my
cousins get married.
I and my family had been here, in Promise, Maine, earlier in the
summer, almost two months before. Late July. Boy, had a lot of things
happened since then. I was feeling strangly taller, and as though I
were viewing the same familiar sights of my youth through a completely
new set of eyes.
Compulsive masturbation. Late July, muggy and damp, two
parents, one brother and a few of his friends, and a pair of foreign
exchange students, all crammed into one rented bungalow. Any time they
all jumped into the Volvo to go somewhere I would hide or just tell them
I wasn't interested. I was being such a little prick the whole vacation
they didn't put up much of an argument.
Once I was sure they were gone, I would slip upstairs to my room
and strip down to my underwear, bought for a thirteen year old and worn
holey. I'd lie on my front and twiddle with my penis, gripping it
firmly with my fingers and briskly padding the tender underside with my
thumb. I'd think of my girlfriend, Glenda, waiting for me at home --
she'd let me play with her breasts before I'd left, and even suck on
them. They were so soft and not very small at all -- not as large as
Becky's, my very first girlfriend's breasts, but her's were an exception
in any young man's book. Becky's boobs were so big, and her skin was so
fair, her nipples were so wide and light pink you couldn't really make
out where they stopped and the rest of her gigundous breasts began.
But Gelnda had long dark hair and dark, camel-like eyes. All my
friends thought she was annoying as hell, but wow, did she know how to
kiss.
We had both taken Jesus into our hearts as our personal savior
last winter and were both kinda scared at the things we let ourselves do
with each other -- I pushed too hard sometimes, she was never very
comfortable letting me touch her pussy, but neither was I.
Jesus. Any thought of the Messiah during masturbation made me
cold with guilt and fear, but I was too far along to stop and certain
desires override fear anyway.
Mom had constructed a make-shift sun shower out behind the
cabin. It consisted of a long hose coiled up on the tar roof of the
fishing shed with a shower nozzle at one end. The other end went into
the shed to a sink, and if you stoppered up the nozzle and let the whole
hose fill with water and let it just stay in the hose for an hour or so,
there would be about three minutes of a steady trickle of hot water,
forced out by cold water from the tap behind it. It was either that or
a sponge bath out of the sink, and I was getting pretty concerned about
some blackheads and tiny pimples developing on my chest and shoulders.
Getting everything you wanted scrubbed in that three minutes could be
quite an adventure, and particularly difficult when you were trying to
wash your privates with your bathing suit on.
That afternoon though, I looked around, each and every way, and
felt a strange thrill run through my entire being. I was behind the
house, everyone was in town, and I could hear anyone in the near
distance. The way to other cabins was blocked by trees and a ramshackle
garage. Before I could question it, I dropped my bathing suit to the
grass and stood completely naked in the mid-summer sun. I grappled
awkwardly with the hose and let it run all over me, splashing the sun
heated water onto my smooth, hairless, adolescent chest and wet my
longish greasy hair. Soap gathered in the nest of my pubic hair until I
pushed it down over my soft, spongy, shriveled up penis. I kept
glancing around nervously, the warm air, the sun on my behind and
testicles and my exposed hips, it was so alien and I feared so much of
getting caught.
My penis began to stiffen a little at the thought.
Then the cold water came and I made an all too brisk job of
finishing.
***
Still masturbating, I thought over my daring afternoon scrub.
Barbara. Damn, I had loved her so much and she never felt that way
about me. She had long dark hair and beautiful dark eyes. I had had a
crush on her for three years, but we still just remained friends,
although I wanted so much to be dating her.
In my mind I stood outside, exposed and scared. Barbara walks
around the corner, wearing that one piece bathing suit she always wears
to the pool. She's seen me! She calls out in surprise and ridicule, I
blush all over and reach down to hide myself. She just smiles and
begins to pull down the straps of her suit (I begin to instinctively
bounce my pelvis into the squeaky mattress) and my idea of what she
looks like naked materializes in my head -- dark, bud-like nipples (I've
seen them through her gym shirt) her tiny waist and broad, mature hips,
a wispy puff of black pubic hair (it still frightened me) she walks over
to hug me and kiss me under the trickling hose --
-- when someone else shows up! All of the other kids who stay
here at the cove during the summer! They heard us and have stepped
around the corner of the house! Everyone can see my penis, stiff in
front of me, exposed and standing like some comical toy soldier -- oh,
to be caught so aroused, it was mortifying --
-- and my hand jerks back and forth against my red and swollen
cock, the other hand spontaneously massaging my thigh, as I feel the
great tingle flash from deep within my balls, and great gooey spurts of
cum shoot through its tender tube and splat against the inside of my
underpants. My mouth is stuffed firmly into a pillow and I huff and
chuff silently, withholding all external signs of pleasure from my face
and head, just rocking up and back and panting, whimpering softly. My
cheeks are flush, my left arm hand throbs. pulses in time with my heart.
I roll over and stare up into the log-beamed ceiling.
If no one comes back in ten minutes, I do it again.
--
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