But I really wasn't peeking, I swear! - Sex Stories

But I really wasn't peeking, I swear!

... smell, but nothing nasty. “You know that sperm, ejaculate shoots out of it, out of that little hole?” “Yup,” I whispered and nodded. “Sperm makes babies, right?” “I know.” I wanted to say with the egg from the mother, too, to show him that I really did know, but I didn't. “What shoots out, the ejaculate, the cum, it's not all sperm. Just a little bit is.” “It is?” “Only five percent sperm, one part out of twenty.” I nodded. I pictured twenty pennies, and a dime, like they taught us at school, but then thought that it'd be nineteen pennies and a dime, instead. “This is the sack, my scrotum. It holds my balls, the testes, where the sperm is made.” I nodded again. “The rest of the fluid in the ejaculate. I think it's made in the prostate, which is back here, but inside me.” He lifted the sack and pointed to behind it. “But inside your body,” I repeated. “That's right.” I nodded again. I knew that ovaries made the eggs, and that they were inside me, too, in my belly. “Go ahead, touch it.” I giggled and shook my head no. “Come on, you were curious enough to peek in my window.” I nodded and reached up and touched his penis for a second. “No, do it right.” I touched it and really examined it, his penis and this sack. “Don't squeeze, but feel the balls inside.” I did it, but then I started to like doing it. I really had never seen one before, or touched one, of course. “It gets hard?” “That's right, a guy can stroke it . . .” He pushed my hand away and started to stroke it. It ...

... started to grow. “Wow,” I whispered. He kept stroking it until it was big and standing up, twice as long as before, and thicker, too. “Go ahead, touch it again.” I did, only this time I wanted to touch it. I squeezed it and held it. I wanted to stroke it, but I felt too shy to do that. I touched the end, the fat part. “What's this?” I asked. “The head, the crown.” I nodded, but I kept pinching the crown and letting it go, because it was spongy and springy. “It shoots?” I asked. “Would you like to see that?” I nodded. “Please?” “You know that guys masturbate?” “Yes.” I wanted to watch him do that. Grace, at school, said that she'd seen her stepbrother do it, that he made her watch him do it all the time. He nodded. “Okay, if you're sure.” “Thank you.” I giggled when he spat into his hand. “For lubrication,” he explained, “to make it slippery.” I watched him stroke it up and down. “You're sure?” he asked again. “Please,” I said. I did really want to see it shoot. He stroked it and stroked it. I could feel it. I was totally wet between my legs. His penis was only about a foot from my mouth, and right then, if he asked, I would've taken it into my mouth and sucked it. “Almost there,” he whispered. I wanted to really see it shoot out, so I learned toward his penis, just a few inches from it. “Ohhhhh, ohhhhhh!” he moaned. It shoot out, all white, and landed right on my face and in my hair. I clamped my eyes shut, giggled and pulled back, fast, but it must've kept arching onto my face, ...