Date: Fri, 25 Feb 2011 08:04:42 -0800 (PST)
From: The Paternal Watcher <hvdude@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Junior High 5

The school days seemed to fly by at a crawl, blisteringly fast yet painfully
slow.  I was so eager to sleep over Harold's house again that I wanted to bring
my overnight bag with me to school, but my parents would have none of that.

"Give his parents a chance to catch their breath," my mother had said.  "You can
go over after dinner."

Harold's parents were a strange puzzle.  His mother, as I've said, wasn't around
much, but his father I'd never even met.  There were pictures of his parents
together, and with the two boys, on the walls and tables in his house, but I
wasn't even sure if the man lived there or not.  He had a thick, black beard
from which a white-toothed smile emerged in all the photos I had seen.  There
were two dressers in the parental bedroom, and two closets.  There was even
sometimes a second car in their two-car garage.  But of the man himself, I had
no clear evidence.  He could have been an elaborate hoax created by space
aliens, for all I knew.

My young hopes were dashed when Harold called me after school.

"I've got to go over to my aunt's tonight, so you can't come over," he said.
"You can come tomorrow, though, and stay the night."

I was sorely disappointed by this news, and went to the park to work off my
frustrations.  I returned in time for dinner, but my mother, upon seeing my
sweaty condition, demanded I shower before I sit at her table.  I was hungry,
and I knew that a fight would only delay eating, so I obeyed.

As I washed myself, I was thinking of the mysteries of time with Harold, and
found myself hardening in response.  It wasn't the first time I had washed my
erection, but it seemed very satisfying to do a good job that evening.  I might
have continued for quite a bit longer, but I was still quite hungry and didn't
want dinner to get cold.

The next day I was dropped off around 2 in the afternoon at Harold's house
where, not surprisingly, he alone was there to greet me.  He showed me some
games on his Atari and then, restless, we went over to the park to run around
and play.  We spent a couple of hours at least there, coming back with the sun
low in the spring sky, and wandered back into the house via the garage.  Harold
opened the door and, just before going through, dropped his pants and mooned me.

I blinked once, twice, and shook my head, which rattled with the image of his
skinny, white ass.  The phone rang as I entered the kitchen, and he picked it up
and started talking to someone.  I listened for a few moments, and figured out
that he was talking to someone our age, probably from our school, and not an
adult or family member.

So I mooned him back.

He paused in his conversation just long enough for the person on the other end
to notice, because he suddenly said, "Yeah, I'm still here, sorry, Tom is being
weird."  He went on chatting casually, changing the subject and moving on, while
he opened cabinets and looked for something for us to eat.  Finally, he hung up
the phone and turned to me.

I was grinning, maybe even smirking, because I'd shown him, all right.  I wasn't
sure what I was expecting him to do next, but I know I wasn't expecting what he
did do.

With one of his characteristic wrestling battle-cries screeching from his lips,
he pulled down his shorts and underpants in a single motion and showed me his
penis.  It wasn't like the last time, though:  this was a full-on erection he
was sporting.  It pointed straight up at the ceiling, reaching towards his belly
button, so I could see every blessed inch of the underside of his boner.  The
shaft bisected his pubic triangle and his balls hung below in full view.

Then, far too quickly for my tastes, it was gone.  He pulled everything back up
and went on with food preparations without comment.

I knew that this was a challenge, and that the stakes were rising quickly.  So
too was my own penis rising in my excitement.  I knew what I had to do, but my
heart pounded loudly in my chest and I was more than a little nervous.  Like
Harold, I gave it a few moments, and tried to act cool.  Then, when he turned
around from the microwave, I followed suit and sunned him.

Unlike Harold's, my erect penis did not reach for the sky.  Instead, it
paralleled earth, and pointed directly at him as I showed him what I had in its
full glory.  He looked, and then I put it away.  We ate.

After that, the night seemed to slip away.  We played some games, watched some
TV, and did who-knows-what; my mind was completely occupied by my friend's
erection, so I was just going through the motions of ordinary life.

When it was dark enough to be night, but too early to be in bed, Harold and I
were in his room.

"I'm in a weird mood," he said.  "You want to play truth or dare?"

"Sure," I said, trying not to sound as eager as I felt.  I wondered if markers
would be involved.

What was involved, at first anyway, was truth.  The truth was all about sex.
Harold led, and I followed, asking each other questions about girls we liked and
places we'd been naked.  The dares soon followed.

"I dare you to pull down your shorts and underpants to your ankles and spin
around five times," he said.  It wasn't easy, and I fell over on the bed.  I
dared him to do the same, and he almost collided with the chair to his desk.
His next proposal was to do push-ups without pants, which was tougher on me than
him because of the angle of my hard-on.

I was getting used to seeing his stuff, and showing him mine.  I was also
getting harder by the minute, and I was afraid I was going to explode.

Finally we got to one that he must have been saving up for a late enough hour:
"I dare you to walk to the block naked," he said.  My eyes grew wide.

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah, it's late, no one will see.  And if you want, I'll walk with you and be
naked on the way back.  You'd have dared me anyway."

"Okay," I agreed.

We went outside into the quiet, dark neighborhood.  It was just warm enough
still.  We had both put back on our shorts and sneakers, and were wearing
T-shirts.

"Okay," he whispered, "you ready?"

I nodded dumbly, and pulled off my shirt and shorts, handing them to him so I
couldn't cover myself.

Follow The Paternal Watcher on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/The-Paternal-Watcher/136637463070505