THE BOY WITH THE SKIN
Tribulations of Growing Up Uncut
I was conscious of the fact that I was "different" from other
boys from a pretty early age. Even different from my brother,
Tad, who was two years older than I was. For some reason never
explained to me, my folks had never bother to have my foreskin
cut off like those of practically every other boy I knew.
Tad used to call me "Skindick" so I tried to avoid being naked in
front of him or anyone else, for that matter. It wasn't easy
because we were not allowed to lock the bathroom door and he
would often walk in while I was in the bathtub or in the shower
and make some remark about my uncut status.
It was easier with my friends - at least up until I got in junior
high and had to shower after gym - because I could usually wrap
my towel around my middle and tug my swim trunks off and my
underpants on under the cover of the protective terrycloth.
My brother was a popular and extremely good looking kid. When he
started junior high he began to be aware of his good looks and
spent a lot of time checking himself out in front of the mirror.
Not just his face, I mean. Everything.
When he started growing hair "down there" and getting his morning
boners, he would stand naked and look at himself to see how he
was coming along. I used to sit on the edge of my bed watching
him and wondering why he had all the luck - and no skin.
Actually, he was pretty good to me. Our folks were divorced and
we lived with our mother so there was no man in the house to
teach me about stuff below the belt. Tad showed me what to
expect as his hairs began to show and even showed me the wet
spots on his skivvies after one of his "wet dreams" so that I
would know what was happening when I found the same thing.
It was his buddy Marc, however, who completed the lessons and
taught me how to take care of my unusual skin.
Tad asked Marc to spend the night over at our house and, after
fooling around for most of the evening, we went next door to
Bud's house where Bud had a good size above-ground pool to swim
in. Marc didn't have any swim suit so Tad loaned him a pair of
his gym trunks and he swam like that.
The problem with gym trunks is that when they are wet you can see
right through them and soon Marc's dark shadow was plainly visi-
ble as well as the sharp outline of his circumcised cockhead. We
joked about that and, when we went back up to get dressed again,
Tad told Marc he could see "everything" he had.
The two almost-fourteen year-olds popped each other with towels
and compared boner length, ball size and hair as they stood there
naked in our little room, rubbing their crotches and sticking
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their hips out to exaggerate their boyhood which was not really
all that impressive. Tad told Marc about my skin and he said
that his older brother had a skin, too, and asked if I cleaned
under it like I should.
I didn't know much about cleaning under the tight hood so they
made me take off my underpants again and lie on the bed so Marc
could show me how to pull the covering skin back.
I was just starting to grow some hair myself and was rock-hard as
I lay there. Of course, they were hard, too, so I didn't feel
too much out of place. Marc took my stiff little three incher
and tugged back on the skin and I yelped. Tad said to "shut up"
before our mother heard us and came in to see what we were doing.
Marc pulled the skin forward as much as he could and stuffed his
little finger in the opening to stretch it a little. Then,
gliding it back slowly, he got it back so that the whole little
head was exposed. When he let go, the skin stayed in back of the
head and I looked almost like they did. He told me I had to pull
it back like that often and wash under it everyday so that it
wouldn't have to be cut off like theirs.
I said I wouldn't mind it being cut off but Marc said his brother
really liked his and he wished he had one. He tugged mine for-
ward again and then back, and then forward, saying that he was
stretching it and getting it to where it would not be difficult
to get back.
As he did this tugging and pulling, I was experiencing a strange,
tingling sensation in my prick that I had never felt before. I
wasn't sure exactly what was happening but I did know that it
felt pretty good...
Tad was standing there watching us and said that Marc had better
be careful because he was "jacking me off" and Marc giggled as he
kept on doing it. His fingers were around the better part of my
rod now as I lay there and I could see Tad fingering his own
prick as he watched.
All of a sudden I couldn't hold back anymore. I felt this
"surging" feeling in my hips, ass and balls. Marc pressed his
other fingers against my hairless little sack and started really
pulling on my rod as I felt it quivver and jump like it was
alive.
I shot in a series of little spurts, all over my own stomach and
over Marc's hand. I know I groaned as I let go. Marc and Tad
were laughing and I was trying to stop my head from spinning as I
had my first ejaculation without even knowing what was going on.
Tad and Marc had me "return the favor" for both of them after I
had wiped off. They lay down on the bed and I squatted between
the two of them and rubbed their throbbing pricks until theirs
did the same messy thing as mine had.
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Although Tad and I never really "got into it" with each other, we
did occasionally slide into one or the other bed and try some of
the things we had heard about with each other. I guess being
brothers sort of put a damper on real intimacy... I do know that
for a while, though, we did it fairly often and I loved to run my
hands along his smooth sides and hips as we lay naked in each
others arms until we "let it go" and then drifted off to sleep
still in the same bed.
I do know that as I grew and advanced in school, my skin became
more and more interesting to a greater variety of friends. At
fourteen or fifteen I think I had more fun showing it than trying
to hide it. Often it was the concealed reason for my being
invited to a sleepover where I would listen to the awkward
advances by one of my friends and then the hard breathing
excitement as we denuded each other in the privacy of a bedroom
or - as in the case of a boy named Robin - in the dense woods
where he had built a "fort" which had been unused for several
years.
I did what Marc had suggested and found it kept my still-tight
skin pliable and easy to retract, making it easy for my "new"
friends to slip their finger or tongue under as they explored
something I had which they didn't have.
For the rest of my schooling I think there was only one other boy
who had a skin. He was from Scotland and was a small boy who
didn't even have pubic hair until he was almost sixteen or maybe
even older.
We shared a lot, he and I... but that's another story!