BOYS’ CLUB LESSONS, PART 1
(A boy learns about masturbation from his swimming coach) M, m
My first encounter with sex was in the locker room of the Boys’ Club when I was fourteen. I was taking a leak in the bathroom, having been the last one out of the pool, where, ostensibly for health reasons, we were required to swim in the nude.

As I turned around, shaking off the few remaining drops of pee from my pecker, I saw Coach Bill sitting in one of the open stalls of the bathroom. He greeted me and asked me to step closer, which I did, not thinking anything unusual about his request. When I got closer he asked me about my low hanging testicles, which I had never noticed. He said they were unusually low, and, reaching out, he gently took my balls between his fingers, hefting them and feeling them in “professional” manner, the way a doctor might.

The feeling of his manipulation was nice, so I didn’t resist or back away. He also ran a hand through my fuzzy pubic hair and told me that it “fascinated” him. Then he told me to go and get dressed, and that’s the last I thought about it until about a week later.

A week or so later, as I was leaving the shower room, again the last to get out of the pool, Coach Bill came up beside me and as we walked down the hall to the dressing room, he put his arm around my shoulder and asked me whether I ever masturbated. I said that I had played with my penis a few times, but had never actually “jacked off” as I understood “masturbate” to mean. He said that masturbation wasn’t really bad for you–even though I had been taught that “naughty thoughts” were “sinful.”–and that doing it once in a while could actually help my penis to grow and my balls to rise up closer to my groin.

When we got the locker room the last of my fellow swimmers were leaving, so Coach Bill invited me into his office. He sat down at his desk, and had me stand in front of him. He fondled my balls again, like he had the other time, and once more ran his fingers through my fuzzy fourteen year-old pubic hair, saying again how much it “fascinated” him.

As he began to manipulate my penis, it started to harden, so he said he would show me how to masturbate if I wanted him to. I nodded shyly, and he proceeded to hoist me up on his lap and seat me over his toweled thighs. I could feel a lump between my ass cheeks, but with the towel in between I didn’t pay much attention to it.

Then Coach Bill started jacking my cock, holding it with two fingers and his thumb (it only took two fingers to hold it in those days), but nothing happened. I guess I just didn’t realize the sexiness of the situation, and since this was a man doing it to me, I didn’t understand just what he was doing to me. It all seemed sort of “clinical,” like in a doctor’s office.

After playing with my cock for a while, Coach Bill then stood me up and told me to go and get dressed. Just as I got my underwear on, Coach Bill came out of his office holding a huge hard-on in his hand. I’ll never forget the look of that swollen penis, the head red and shiny, as he stroked it with his hand. He came closer to me, and when we were just a foot or two apart, he grabbed my hand and put it under the head of his penis as a creamy, slimy substance shot out and onto my hand. I was shocked by this occurrence and withdrew my hand as quickly as I could, but still got some of his cum on it.

He said he just wanted to show me what happens when you masturbate, and then he sort of apologized for the mess, wiping my hand and his cock off with a towel. I went home wondering about what had happened, not offended, but not sexually stimulated either. . .just curious.

When I went home from my last session with Coach Bill I was more curious than ever about masturbating and having an orgasm such as he had so obviously enjoyed. When I was in the bath tub, getting ready to play cello in a school concert, I began to play with my pee-pee, and, sure enough, it got hard. After a while I got this wonderful tingling sensation all over my body, and through the soap suds and my fingers I saw my first cum ejaculate. When I recovered, I was determined to go back to the club and have another visit with Coach Bill.

The following week I made it a point to linger as long as I could in the pool and in the shower room, waiting until most of the other boys had left. I sauntered into the dressing room as the last boy left, teasing me about being a “slowpoke.”

I went to the door of Coach Bill’s office and peeked in. He was sitting at his desk looking at a magazine of some kind. When he became aware that someone was at the door he quickly closed the magazine and stuffed it into a drawer. He told me to come in, and when I did, he once more had me stand in front of him, asking me if I’d like to see what he was looking at. I said I would, and he opened the drawer and pulled out a magazine with pictures of naked men, all with hard-ons, and some of them doing things to one another.

My own little penis got hard as Coach Bill began to fondle my balls and manipulate my penis, and I told him about my orgasm in the bath tub. He seemed very pleased, and said after seeing those in the magazine, what did I think of his? As he said this he uncovered his own manhood, which stuck up between his legs like a tower of flesh, throbbing, shiny, and hard. I gazed at it in wonder, more curious than I had been the first time, now that I knew it was for more than peeing from.

Bill invited me to take his huge penis in my hand and feel it. It was soft to the touch even though it was has hard as iron under my caressing fingers. He told me to show him what I had done to my cock to make myself cum, and I began to stroke his cock the way I had mine. It didn’t take long for the same thing to happen to Coach as had happened to me.

But when his cum gushed out it spurted all over my chest, my arm and my hand. I didn’t withdraw my hand this time though, being intrigued with the gooey cream that coated my flesh. Coach reached down and scooped up a little of his cum on his finger and put it in his mouth, licking and sucking on his finger as though it were a lollipop. Then he got some more cum off my tummy and held it up to my face. I felt eager and adventurous, and my own cock was starting to tingle and throb, so I stuck out my tongue and tasted Coach’s cum.

It was a strange taste, sort of acidy, yet creamy and sweet in a way, and as I rolled it around on my lips and tongue my own cock began to spurt onto Coach’s thighs and onto his still tall penis. I almost fell to my knees, but Coach held me up and pulled me to him in a manly hug that reminded me of when my Daddy used to hug me when I was a little boy.
***
Speaking of my Daddy, I had always loved my father and admired his strong masculine body. It was only after my experience with Coach Bill, though, that it occurred to me that my father would probably have a nice big cock just like Coach had, and that maybe he would enjoy my doing to him what I had done to Coach.

One night after I had gone to bed and slept for awhile, I woke up to go to the bathroom, and noticing that there was a light on downstairs I went down to shut it off. What I discovered was that the light had not been left on accidentally. Instead, I saw my father sitting in his easy chair with a magazine in his lap.

I crept closer and saw that it was a magazine of sexy pictures much like Coach had been looking at the other day. As I looked over my dad’s shoulder from a distance I could see that there were pictures of men doing things to women, women doing things to men, and men and women doing things to members of their own sex.

My little penis began to harden and stick up out of my pajama bottoms, and when my dad turned the page of the magazine I could see that his pajamas were down around his feet and his cock was standing up proudly much as Coach’s had the other day.

I was about to turn around and go back upstairs when I must have made a sound, because my dad looked back and saw me standing there with my cock hanging out of my pajamas. I thought he would be mad at me for spying on him, but instead he motioned me over to sit on the arm of his chair and look at the magazine with him. He put his arm around me and soon his fingers were gently caressing my cock and balls.

He asked me if I liked what he was doing, and when I said I did, he asked me if I would like to do the same to him. I was in an awkward position to play with my dad’s cock from the arm of the chair, so he worked me around to a position where I was standing between his legs and then he gently pushed me down into a kneeling position so that my face was just inches from his cock and balls.

My father’s cock was bigger than coach’s, the knob tight and shiny with his excitement, the pole sticking up and almost slapping his stomach. He guided one of my hands up to cup his testicles and the other one to grasp the stem of his huge penis. He told me to hold it tight and stroke it up and down, and as I did, he spread his legs and pushed his bottom almost off the chair so I had his genitals right in my face, kneeling subserviently before him.

Knowing what to expect from my experience with Coach, I anticipated my father’s orgasm, and when he came I let the first gush hit me in the face, and then I took the head of his penis into my mouth and let it spurt in, some of it running out of my mouth and over my lips and down my chin in a gooey, creamy mess.

Just as Coach had done, my father then pulled me up onto his lap and hugged me, telling me how much he loved me before sending me to bed. I Bill’t think it occurred to him that I might like to cum also, but I didn’t argue. I just went to bed and played with myself the way I had in the bathtub, the way I had Coach Bill, and the way I had just done with my father.

But the taste of his cum was yummy, and I was sure there would be other chances to play with my loving father the new games I had learned. (more to cum)

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