A Year to Remember - Sex Stories

A Year to Remember

... spunk gets spilled. I bloody love wanking. Now I know how to do it right. Took a while though. Sure, we had the 'birds and bees' chat. Me and Dad. Well, he just sort of mumbled some stuff and I sat looking at my feet. “It's okay Dad, we do have sex ed at school,” I said. That was it. Job done, he scarpered back downstairs to safety. I pull my legs up and deftly flip the top half of the duvet down with the soles of my feet. A trick I've been perfecting for a few weeks. Forcing my hand through the fly hole, I hear a tiny rip, a stitch giving way I suppose. I pull the warm, smooth skin of my dick back to expose my helmet to the chilly air in my bedroom. It immediately begins to tingle. I shiver at the almost inevitable climax just a few minutes away, or is it just too flipping cold? No time for a marathon, a sprint is required today. Anyway, I give my foreskin another couple of tugs, willing my cock to expand, so I can jack off properly. In case you had not guessed, I'm uncut. I had no idea there was any other version. That is, not until one of the lads in PE announced it. In the showers. Of course we have showers. And, everyone has to have one. I hate it. I don't want everyone seeing me. Naked. Sixteen. Four-eyed. Raging hormones. Gorilla pubes. Alex had seemed pretty relaxed about having his dick inspected though. One of the others, Ed Miller I think, had said something. “Look at Beckman's cock head. He's shut it in the fucking door!” Alex just said, “Fuck off, Miller!” Then ...

... telling him, and by default all of us standing there, dripping, that he'd been circumcised and what it meant. He said at least he didn't get a cheesy knob, like the rest of us girls. His deep reddish, purple helmet stood proud, nestled atop his rounded balls. A few wispy hairs surrounded the whole package. I looked down at what the others had found so alarming, curious. Maybe for a second too long. I was just curious. Something had stirred and I hurried to get back into my hated uniform that day. Tugs seem to be working. Shit, is it the tugs working? I'm thinking about the school showers, thinking about Alex, and that chav Ed Miller. My dick stiffens. Enough for me to start a steady rhythm, my hand working up and down, my fingers stroking my wrinkled balls every few strokes. I can't believe I'm doing this. School showers? Alex's exposed helmet. Miller's chav-lad trio. The worst of it is it's not the first time. It doesn't take long before I feel that familiar tensing of my tummy muscles. Then a sudden, urgent shout startles me, enough to pull the duvet back over me as quickly as I can. “Adam! Get up! It's a quarter to eight!” The command shrieked up the stairs makes me jump. I grab at the edge of the duvet, expecting her to burst in at any second. My heart is thudding so much. My mother is a worrier. She worries that I won't wake up. She worries I won't get up if I am awake. She worries I take too long in the shower. She worries. I yank the duvet back down in defiance. My dick ...