Re-kindling Days of Yore

The young excitement of discovering what else your penis does. Even as a boy you like to wee with other boys. I remember once in the sand dunes at the beach with my friend, Simon, bending down and rolling the wet sand from my wee into a ball, like making mud pies whilst he did the same with his own, and us leaving the balls -- two each -- in the sun to dry. We said we'd see if they were still there when we came the next time to the beach, a week or two later. But they weren't. The hot sun and perhaps someone walking by and kicking or just stepping on them had turned them back to dry running sand.

Puberty brings on a greater interest in erections. You've always known your penis gets hard when you really want to wee and sometimes just for no apparent reason. And, as so often described on this site, one day you find that stroking has a rather dramatic result -- and you do that again and again thereafter.

But early masturbation and cum shooting can come at that funny phase when you have more an interest in boys and men, than girls and women. You grow out of it, or most do, only, for quite a few, for it to return late fifties and onwards as your source of womanly pleasure dries up. Sometimes with your wife rather literally, both in the physical and the interest in sex sense. You gravitate back to being boys together, only older and wiser or, rather more knowledgeable anyway, and ready to grasp another's hard and nowadays rather craggy cock and enjoy enthusiasm for sex rather than resigned acceptance -- if you are lucky with your wife -- albeit the other person is once again male and not female.

Simon and I were not perhaps the fastest at growing up, our games were very much still that of boys even if our genitalia had considerably progressed. I suppose we were eighteen but still building dens in the summer and sitting at a table with an enormous box of Lego before us in the winter months. It was probably the lack of girls that kept us young! An all-boys school and just not the opportunity to meet girls -- well until university that is, and things very much changed.

Imagine two lads on their bicycles riding off down country lanes to spend a day perhaps still playing cowboys and Indians, knights in armour or explorers. Leaving our bikes in a ditch we would walk from hot sunshine into the cool of a particular wood we had often played in.

Simon was telling me about 'Tom Sawyer,' a book he had been reading. He had rather liked the piece where Tom, Huck and Joe had become pirates on Jackson's Island and been naked together, running and swimming, even painting themselves in mud. It seemed rather a good idea.

I quote a piece from the book for easy reference:

'After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.

When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus -- with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor.'

And so, we tried that there in the wood. We too shed clothes and if not quite whooping then certainly prancing, we chased each other through the wood stark naked. It was not long before our youthful penises got hard. And we were not mere boys then. These were fully grown, six inch or so adult jobs, rising from pubic hair. More young men than boys. Eighteen years old, after all. Naked young men with fully blown erections. We were perhaps a little surprised.

"En garde!"

We had played castles and knights in armour with sticks, bashing them against each other as if swords, but now we were jousting with our erect penises. It just happened. A logical progression, perhaps. I don't know now if it was Simon or me who challenged the other, but it was funny to be sword fighting with our dicks, our smooth hard flesh sliding off the other.

A bit whacked -- or at least our penises rather whacked. We sat on a tree that had fallen across a stream to rest. A place we liked to sit and indeed had, the year before, fought a duel with sticks not penises. With our cocks hard and peeled it was natural to begin to masturbate. Really nice to do that sitting on the log with our feet dangling towards the stream. Given we had been bashing the other with our penises it was not exactly embarrassing now to wank together. An easy and natural progression. I forget who first clasped and then stroked. We talked about wanking, how we had started and what we thought of when in bed. About girlie magazines and stories, we had read. Two erect penises there in the sunshine. My thicker one with its purple fringed knob and prominent corona, Simon's slender cock with pale pink rather pointed knob and his remarkably hairy tight balls -- real long hairs all over them, sprouting this way and that. We talked a lot about girls in a sexual way. How nice it would be to have a pair there to play with. One girl would do -- at a pinch - sitting there between us, a breast each to suck. And perhaps her sucking us. Oh yes, we were not so young not to think of that. We both pulled back our foreskins and imagined the girl going down on each in turn. It was all imagination. We had not so much as seen a pair of girl's tits let along their fur or been sucked.

Cumming was so easy and natural, pulling our cocks down and forward to just release into the stream below. No mess! Rather remarkable to see Simon's hand speed up, flashing back and forth and then the white ropes coming, seeming to me in slow motion, hanging in the air and then falling to the stream -- before I did the same.

More play, more running about and even den building before we found ourselves 'sword fighting' again. Erect with that easy recovery of the young. Not this time sitting to wank over the stream but up in a tree, sitting high above the ground. If you've never tried climbing a tree with an erection, you should -- or perhaps should not -- your cock doesn't half get in the way! Naked lads hidden up a tree and wanking. Of course, we imagined girls or women walking below us with no idea who was above. Perhaps, and I think that is what we imagined, girls pausing for a pee stop. Not that we'd have seen very much from above, rather than from below, but it pleased us. Seeing their streams. And, when we came, we most certainly imagined our cum falling down unexpectedly upon girls below. Our cum not catching, splat, on branches but clear falling to catch them on hair, neck or (delightfully) right down a cleavage. Released from our youthful cocks all hidden above them by the branches and leaves.

Happy wanking times. Boys learning new games. It did not last that long because girl friends came along. First Simon and then me; and that naturally just ended our youthful fun -- with our own sex that is. It was not that long before Simon could report what being sucked by a girl was like. It took me a little longer, but it was so good when Eleanor first did that. Well, actually the second and subsequent times were better still! She more relaxed and having got the hang of it.

But our relatively few 'Tom Sawyer' experiences, Simon and me in the woods, rather climaxed one hot afternoon with a duel. It wasn't actually the last time but, I think, pretty close to it. Not so much with swords as with pistols. Not with the clash of metal on metal or rather flesh on flesh but firing 'shots' at each other, and not firing blanks either. Not from twenty paces apart but certainly four foot apart. Yes, a cum duel. A natural progression I suppose. We had each seen the other spurt whether on the log over the stream, up in a tree or just sitting together in the wood. We knew each shot a distance -- and probably thought that the norm.

We had been wanking some little time. I don't remember quite what we talked about and wanked to. It might have been one of three girls at school -- or maybe all three. Were we imagining sharing? Were we imagining showering with the girls at school after PE? I'm not sure that was so on my mind then. It has become a favourite fantasy since, certainly. Simon and me in the wrong showers. All those naked girls, all those boobs and pussies, all those naked feminine bottoms with the water running -- and the soap. Not permitted by all those girls to leave. Wonderfully trapped by naked girls. Girl after girl touching us very intimately until... the spurting.

But we had been wanking, were worked up, had 'edged' -- not that we'd have known the term back then. Perhaps we had had a bit of a sword fight, hard penis slapping against hard penis. I don't think we ever rubbed together -- fraenum to fraenum to see who came first. Why the cum duel? Had we tired of fighting with 'swords' or had we got a bit too knocked about? Did we speculate on how else we might fight? I suppose we could have wrestled but neither of us were into that sport. Wrestling to grab the other's cock and make it cum. First to cum losing. It might have been fun.

However it came about, I can still remember us standing back-to-back, yes bare bottom to bare bottom. It must have been quite a sight with our two penises sticking up at our fronts, forty-five-degree angles, peeled and with shiny, well stroked knobs probably leaking -- well-oiled mechanisms indeed! Of course, we did not have seconds, no gentlemen assisting us with the preparation of our pistols -- or better still young women -- 'Gentlemen, twenty paces forward, turn and present.' In duelling, of course, both combatants are to present and fire together at the agreed upon signal. This was a little difficult with a penis, even a primed penis unless really on the brink of orgasm. We could not walk our twenty paces (actually more of a single pace) turn and wait the signal to raise pistols and fire. We had no seconds to give the signal and it was not a simple matter of a single tug to foreskin to fire.

I think we imagined one of our teachers, a young woman who dressed rather nicely, giving us the command, but I may be wrong. 'Gentlemen, raise your pistols, prime and fire when ready.' I expect we asked if each was ready and said something like 'go.' And off we went, wanking, as I said about four feet apart, with the aim of cumming, trying in doing so to shoot the other. Not a lead ball to strike but a ball or maybe several of cum. Two sets of fingers not just tugging away but seeking to aim. Not strictly a matching set of duelling 'pistols,' given the differences between us. My thicker one and Simon's slender cock there in the sunshine, our balls -- our ammunition pouches -- jiggling away beneath.

The pleasure of wanking, the semi-ecstasy of ejaculation and the male competitive pleasure in trying to win at a 'game.' I remember ejaculating first. Watching my first spurt fall short but the second shot catching Simon 'splat' on his stomach, the third seeming to glance off his cock and the third hitting his thigh. Of course, duelling pistols only have the single ball, our pistols were more 'six shooters.' To have fired more than once in succession would have been so incorrect in duelling etiquette but that is not how penises work! Not possible to fire one shot and then discuss, if both duellists missed, whether a second attempt was required. Penises just ejaculate in a string of shots; the full load comes out. It is not a matter of firing one teste and then firing the second, if necessary!

No sooner than I had finished than Simon's fired. He has a straighter barrel than me, my penis curves upwards, his is slender and straight as a die. Perhaps that helps with velocity, perhaps it helps with aim. Splat, splat, splat -- warm cum on my skin. Bullseyes really, right over my heart. Simon's cum on my left nipple even!

As our penises drooped, I had to concede he had won. Was honour satisfied? It had certainly been a duel with pistols, though it was all a little odd mopping up the other's cum.

It was perhaps the culmination or sunset of our boyish sexual play. I think there were one or two other wanks in the wood that year, but I cannot recall the details. Certainly, with autumn flowing into winter, and going to university. we stopped biking to that wood and by the time next year came around our interests had changed, matured indeed. We were not merely theoretically into girls but were getting our fingers well into the real thing. Practice not theory. Real boobs, real wet pussies, real girls to kiss and woo. Being boys together looking at magazines and fantasising, sharing a wank became things of the past. Our cum only went on the others' skin that once. It went on the skin of rather a lot of girls thereafter!

I had not seen Simon in fifty years. Our meeting was by accident, and we hardly recognised each other. Anything but boys anymore. Older, greyer and rather more portly. But we hit it off recollecting and catching up. We even got around to talking of that day we had frolicked naked like Tom Sawyer and shared a wank on that fallen tree across the stream in the wood.

"We'll have to do that again, sometime," Simon had said.

We had had a few drinks. His eyes had been full of merriment. I reacted with a sort of double take movement. A look of surprise. But on he went, "Well, they were great afternoons. I've thought back on them quite a bit really. You know, when you're having a wank, you think of all sorts of things."

True enough and I had thought back too. "Reliving our boyhood, eh?" my ready smile showing I had not really been shocked or offended.

It was like so many men seem to find. Wives not so interested in sex. Or maybe divorce or bereavement leaving men without women. Or maybe curiosity. What does another's firm penis feel like? The idea of going back to a pubescent interest in the same sex rather coming back and, certainly with us, a few meetings rekindling friendship, it all led to the idea of doing just that.

And so, a couple of mid-sixties men found themselves meeting for a bike ride, a bike ride which would just happen to go past a particular wood. Yes, we had a picnic with us, but it was not just finding a sunlit spot for an alfresco meal that was in our minds. The road by the wood had not changed. It was exactly as it had been fifty years before. The same hedges along the road, if now mechanically trimmed, probably not actually the same wooden farm gates that we had passed all those years ago -- they had probably been replaced - and the tarmac might have been renewed at some point, but it all seemed pretty much the same and felt the same. We hid the bikes in the same ditch as before -- fifty years before.

Of course, a little more difficult to find our way through a wood than down a road. Trees had grown, trees had fallen, and fifty years is a long time to remember. It could, sort of, have been a different wood if not for the stream. It was still there, even if the fallen tree was long gone. We sat on another fallen tree in the centre of the wood, enjoying, with perhaps the greater maturity and appreciation of age, the effect of the sunshine dappling the ground with light and shade, the pleasurable warmth of the sunshine and the peace and solitude of the wood -- a sylvan pleasure indeed. We ate our lunch and drank our water as we chatted.

"You know," said Simon, "it's such a hot day we could have sat and had our lunch naked."

"We could indeed. Naturist dining."

We burst out laughing. We had come to the wood really to be naked together again, but up to that point neither had mentioned the idea. It was the cue. Simon had sort of lost by mentioning it first!

"Shall we go for a little wander, a little explore, whilst we eat our apples?"

It was like being boys again as we divested ourselves of clothing. Not really nervous, not even embarrassed but a little quiet and thoughtful. This was new to us -- well, new after fifty years. There was more of us, of course, not those slim bodies from our schooldays, but not too paunchy either -- or big bottomed. And there too was Simon's cock as I remembered. A few grey hairs certainly and perhaps those long hairs still on his balls were a bit more numerous, but it was as I remembered.

"I see you're really up for this."

Simon grinned. The thing had been his idea and perhaps that was why he was already erect, and I wasn't. As his pants had came down there it was, his 'sword' of yesteryear, slender and straight coming up from his tight hairy balls. His épée or foil to my (not yet drawn) sabre or broadsword.

"Come on," he said, "get hard like you used to."

The sunshine was lovely, the wood was gorgeous. The whole thing rather super. Sexual play in the offing, but so good to be with my old friend again and remembering.

"I will but shall we walk and have our apples first? We used to explore a lot naked." We certainly did! I recall one time we pretended to be natives in a jungle with loin cloths made of handkerchiefs and string. A handkerchief fore and aft joined by string. They held up but the thin cotton rather emphasised buttocks and genitalia hidden behind them. Especially when we became hard which happened quite a bit. What a sight, I suppose, those squares of thin white cotton lifted up by our rising cocks -- and no doubt with little wet patches where we leaked. But easy to raise the loin cloths for a fight! I think we once took small towels and wrapped them around ourselves like kilts, I suppose. We had read a comic book featuring a young man somewhere in the imagined South Seas having adventures running around, fishing, dealing with 'baddies' and so on in just a short kilt. We sort of liked the idea -- and the rather free feeling to our cocks and balls underneath. Rather exciting to unwrap ourselves ready when having a fight or deciding to wank (and we did a lot of that). Sometimes they just came undone by themselves. I'm sure I had a nice wank one night imagining it coming undone right in front of a group of girls. An exhibitionist fantasy clearly; not that I'd have known the term then, naked and becoming erect in front of clothed girls. Not just exhibitionist but CFNM. No doubt my mind took the scene onwards to a spurting conclusion!

Two senior men walking naked through the wood eating an apple each, coming right to the wood's edge and out onto the edge of a field of barley. It was glorious. The blue, blue sky soaring over us with just the occasional whisp of cloud.

"Didn't we once go all around this field naked?" A long way from clothes. The four sides of the field between hedge and crop. Naked explorers. "We sat on the top of a gate didn't we and had a wank."

"What do you think it was, half a mile from our clothes, out in the countryside."

"We're a fair way now. Nice, isn't it?"

It was, we were out in the sunshine looking out over the golden barley, heads drooping with their long hairs, heavy with their ripe grain. The heat of the sun and the recollection of wanking on a field gate all those years ago did for me. I ceased to droop, and my penis came up in the air, more like the upright ear of wheat! My own seed would be spilt I knew. But my balls did not yet feel heavy and ripe. That would come! I turned to Simon. He had erected again, his cock up and his wrinkled balls sack again exposed without the drooping penis covering them. His sprouting hairs very much reminiscent of the barley.