Justin Caas - The Third Sex

When Pete withdrew, my penis remained erect and now swollen in girth. There was silence in the room as they contemplated this unexpected state of affairs.

“Doesn’t it go down when you’ve come?” one voice questioned.

I hadn’t really thought about it before. “If there’s nothing further to do it goes down,” I acknowledged but if there’s still activity then it stays up.”

“Are you saying you can do it again right away?”

“Oh yes, of course.” I thought of the time I had shared this happy state with my sister Kate. Of the times we had spent a wet Sunday afternoon with nothing else to do in Kate’s bedroom lying top to tail and pleasuring each other for hours on end.

Thomas looked around. “You want to do it again?”

“Sure.”

Several boys were busily questioning Pete about his new and brave expedition into unknown territory and from the look of awe on his listeners’ faces, was embellishing the experience with considerable extra drama.

Thomas and Pete were close friends and shared many of the same motivations. Thomas now stepped forward and lowered himself towards the unknown, dubiously noting that the small pink shaft which Pete had engulfed was now considerably more formidable but with only a small hesitation, he took it into his mouth and began a rhythmic exercise. Waves of pleasure again spread throughout my body, and in automatic response started the small squirts of of the first stage. I watched Thomas’ face closely. Like Pete, he too went through the stages of wary undertainty, surprise, relief and finally acceptance. The big event was almost upon me. I called out softly to Thomas to warn him, then it erupted heavily in his mouth.

“What was it like?” several voices wanted to know.

Without thinking what he was saying, the words just tumbled out, “Just like a dog’s one.”

The room grew silent. Thomas’ face reddened, glanced at me with an apologetic embarrassment. What did this mean, that I was finished as a member of their circle?

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It was just …” he finished lamely.

Suddenly it was all over. The boys dressed themselves with a furtive embarrassment now that the urges had been released. No one wanted to look directly at me except Pete. He gave me a quiet smile and in a sense that acceptance meant more to me than all the other guys put together.

I was telling Kate about it later in the afternoon. She listened with curiosity, interrupting occasionally to ask a question; finally shook her head and asked, “Why did you do it?”

“It’s hard to explain. Perhaps it’s a boy thing. The urge for release can become overpowering at times. You just need to do it. I pondered a moment then added, “Well okay, perhaps even more important, I wanted to be accepted into their circle. That’s hard to explain but it’s real.”

Kate thought a moment then said slowly, “Okay, I can understand that. I also know what a mouth feels like, it’s a whole order of … of magnitude better than a hand, right?”

“Kate. You’re different from other girls. I couldn’t even begin to discuss such a thing with any other girl …”

Kate smiled. “I’m not as different as you think. But I know you better than you imagine. I sense your frustration. We’ve always been pretty close, okay? So …” She paused.

“So?”

“So if it’s a mouth that brings you relief, what’s wrong with your own mouth?”

I was astonished that the thought hadn’t occurred to me. Together with other canine characteristics my body possessed a surprising agility. I hadn’t tried but felt pretty sure that it would work. Kate grinned, “I’ll leave you to make your own discoveries.” Then frowned, “But just make sure you don’t neglect my own little private needs!”

It was a novel concept, but I was sure it would work. But would it bring the same relief that Thomas and Pete furtively enjoyed in class every day. Somehow doing things to yourself seemed less exciting that having those little attentions awarded by someone else.

There was a reason why they sat at the back of the room, staring with rapt concentration at the words of wisdom issuing from their biology teacher. But their minds were far away. First Pete’s hand would reach out, tentatively touch the leg of his friend. Fingers slowly groped for the leg of his friend’s shorts. First the fingers, then the hand itself slowly worked its way into the leg, helped by some obliging assistance from Thomas who would subtly shift his position to facilitate the procedure. At the same time Thomas would lean forward, one elbow on the desk supporting his upper body so that the the other hand was free to mount a similar expedition on Pete’s leg.

Before long the hands of both had reached their respective goals. At that age everything is hair-trigger. The slightest touch sends shivers of delight racing along nerves as a hand grasps and fondles an erect penis. Both Pete and Thomas agreed that one’s own hand was not nearly as good as a friend’s hand. The sensations being magnified tenfold.

Then began a slow dance to nirvana with frequent pauses to prevent an over-heated early culmination. It took a fair amount of practice to keep the pot boiling away without overflowing. But both boys were dedicated to the task of perfecting this mission. Inevitably there were errors of judgement. In an urge to experience that state of bliss just a moment longer the urgent hiss, “Stop!” would come too late and a wet pulsing would come in his pants. Sometimes in a spirit of devilry Pete or Thomas would ignore the friend’s urgent warning and deliberately continue the fondling until their hand was rewarded by a sudden rush of wetness. It was always a thrilling event.

Admittedly there was the aftermath of a wet stain in the front of the boy’s pants and a sensation of discomfort at the wetness for some time. Sperm seemed to dry so slowly. But this was reckoned a small price to pay for a few brief moment of the ultimate ecstasy. There was also a certain amount of pride amongst those pupils who had discovered masturbation in having starched pants as the condition was called. Those pupils whose front of pants were as stiff as a board were looked upon with admiration as having an exceptional virility.

The irony of their situation was not lost on Pete. Here was the teacher droning on about the chemical and neurological aspects of bodily functions, while he and Thomas were engaged in a far more meaningful practical study. And of course, practice makes perfect.

I pondered on these classroom activities that Thomas and Pete confided in me. Once they had both reached a climax, they started to hear the technical details of the lesson but it was either too little or came too late to prevent each from achieving a joint status of bottom-of-the-class . The boys rationalised it this way: if we met with an accident and died tomorrow, at least we’d have had some blissful moments beforehand. Whereas if that same accident cut our lives short with only a theoretical knowledge of biology to remember them by, then we’d be better off starching our pants instead.

Both suspected there was some flaw in this reasoning but decided to stick with the starching in the meantime.

In the same spirit of adventure I decided to put to the test my own experiment in self-help orgasmic pleasure. Concealed in the darkness of my room, comfortably in bed and with only a faint glow of moonlight shining through my bedroom window I slipped out of pyjamas and curled up in a ball. It was a position I was able to achieve very easily, although apparently not for ordinary boys. One or two could manage it after some strenuous practice and claimed that taking one’s own penis into one’s mouth the ultimate in masturbation. I would soon find out. I focussed on it and a thin pointed shaft slipped out of its sheath and slid into my mouth. It was a pleasant and curiously satisfying sensation. But once the shaft was enclosed in a warm mouth that sensitive organ quickly responded with waves of delirious sensation. Sucking rhythmically produced the most intense sensations and I sensed that if I kept this up that before long the great moment would arrive. So I slowed down a bit enjoying the little spurts coming in my mouth every few seconds. A part of my awareness idly noted that swallowing it solved the problem of otherwise messy sheets. How convenient. But soon I could feel a growing wave of approaching ecstasy and as that happened a curious change occurred in the slender shaft in my mouth. It began to swell enormously. A moment later the first spurt of bliss arrived. Then again and again. For a moment I was stunned at its intensity, my whole body shivering in the aftermath.