What We Saw Out in the Woods

By Mikey Tool

Published on Aug 28, 1999

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Tommy, Jason, Patrick and me were out in our secret spot in the woods. We'd been coming here since we were little kids, and the place was perfect. A long time ago somebody had put up an old shed, and whoever that was was long gone by the time we stumbled across it. The shed was about 10 feet in from a small, usually sunlit clearing, but you could stand right at the edge of that little field and never notice the shack, it was so tangled up in weeds and bushes. We wouldn't ever have found it ourselves if we hadn't been playing catch out in the clearing and Patrick hadn't thrown the ball too far, back into the shrubbery. We were only 7 or 8 years old then and didn't think much about getting scratched up when we crawled around in the bushes, so me and Tommy went in after the ball and found the shed. You could see nobody had been there for a long time -- the lone window was busted and there were leaves and crud all over the floor. It didn't take us long to figure out that this would be a rad hideout, so we cleaned the place up and found a piece of plastic sheeting to tack up over the window for when it rained. Down in Louisiana it wasn't many days that it was too cold to go out there, and it damn near never snowed, so we were out at the shack all the time, goofing around, playing cards and just hanging out. My parents knew I hung out in the woods all the time and didn't care so long as I got my homework done. I'm a pretty good student, so I never had any trouble along that score. Tommy lived with his grandmother, who didn't pay much attention to what he was doing, and Jason and Patrick lived in a trailer with their mom, who was drunk most all of the time. They'd been running wild since they were five years old. Tommy, Jason and Patrick all pulled down decent grades at school, which was amazing since I never saw them studying at all. We were all best friends.

When we started getting a little older, we naturally started thinking about sex -- a lot. Jason was the first one to figure out that if you rubbed your hands up and down your dick for a while it started feeling real good, and because we didn't any of us have any secrets from each other, he brought the knowledge to the shed the next morning, and it wasn't long before we were all sitting there with our shorts pulled down around our ankles, pounding away at our boners. Tommy later claimed that he'd started beating off when he was six, but none of us believed him.

It was about at the same time that I found out that what was mostly on my mind while I was rubbing for the good feeling was none other than Tommy, Jason and Patrick. I loved watching their tense little bodies while I was stroking myself, and if they minded me looking at them, they didn't show it. They mostly kept their eyes closed, lost in their own little worlds anyway.

On this particular day we were all at the hideout, just hanging out, sitting in a post-cum glow and kinda amazed cause today, for the first time, Tommy had shot some white stuff out of the tip of his dick when he finished up. Tommy and I were both 12, while Jason and Patrick, the twins, were still 11. Tommy and I were having sort of a race to see who was getting more hair around his dick, not that there was anything we could do about it. The twins were still completely hairless, although both of their dicks were starting to grow bigger, and they both had a nice pair of low-hanging balls between their smooth thighs. Jason and Patrick were completely indistinguishable identical twins, and they did everything together, right down to having their orgasms together when they jacked off. I always thought that if one of them was ahead he would wait for the other one to start panting, and then they'd both let go.

Now Tommy picked up his head from where he was lying, his hand still holding on to the slick meat that had shot its first load a few minutes before. "Somebody's coming," he said.

Sure enough, there could be crashing heard out in the woods. Whoever it was wasn't being quiet about it. We could heard a bunch of voices kidding around and laughing. After a minute could distinguish the voice of my older brother, Alex, and his best friend Steve. I knew right then that we had to keep quiet as all hell, cause if Alex found me he would kick my ass just for the hell of it, and Steve wouldn't do anything about it.

We quickly pulled our shorts up and gathered around the small window for peeks. You couldn't see the weatherbeaten old shack back in the dark woods, but you could see the clearing from the shack, especially when it was brightly sunlit, like today.

In a couple of seconds five guys crashed into the clearing, still laughing about something my brother had said. They were carrying a cooler, and all five of them were dressed for the summer weather -- tight or baggy swimming trunks, old T-shirts or muscle-Ts, and gym shoes. From the way their hair was slicked back we could tell they had been swimming down at the waterhole.

Alex opened up the cooler and tossed cans of beer all around. Soon the five studs were spread out on the grass, sucking down their beers and talking about nothing much. That got real boring real quick, but just when we were starting to think about sneaking out through a back path in the woods, one of the other guys reached into his backpack and pulled out a cigarette, or at least that's what it looked like to me. "Anyone want a couple of hits?" he asked.

There were four guys and four takers. "Shit, Bret, I haven't got high since last Friday," Steve said eagerly. In a minute the cigarette was lit up and was being passed around the circle, with each boy taking a deep hit and holding it in.

"What the fuck are they smoking?" I whispered. Tommy snorted. "You mean you haven't ever seen anybody smoking dope," he hissed. "You are so fucking lame, Johnny. It's called a joint."

"Shut up," I whispered back angrily. "I know what that is, but how was I supposed to know?"

"You didn't know anything," Tommy mocked me. Just then, though, my attention was brought back to the window, cause the kid who had passed around the joint stood up and announced that he had to take a whiz something wicked. Before our eyes he walked right up to the edge of the clearing and right smack dab in front of us, pulled down the front of his Speedos and hauled out a huge cock that must have been 7 inches easy droopin' soft like it was. Bret let out a strong stream of piss, waving his dick around to make the urine splash around on the leaves. I couldn't take my eyes off that big dick being whipped around no more than eight feet away from me, and I could tell without looking that my buddies were just as transfixed as I was.

When the piss stopped squirting Bret stuffed his cock back into his tight swimsuit, where it immediately stood out real clearly. I saw through the corner of my eye that Jason was already sporting a rock hard woody inside his Sears Roebucks, and when I took a closer look I saw that sure enough, his brother was boned, too. That made it all right for me to start springing wood also as Bret turned around and walked back to the other guys, plopping back down and taking a deep slug of beer.

Over the next five minutes we got to see all of those boys display their prickmeats in front of us -- all except my brother, who obviously wasn't much of a pisser. Steve had a nice-sized, thick dick, and he kept both hands on it while he was pissing, slowly running his hands back and forth along the shaft. It looked to me like he was having the start of a boner, but he tucked himself away before I could decide for sure. Steve's younger brother, Damien, wasn't as big as his brother, but he also looked semi-up, and he had a huge pair of balls underneath his cockmeat. The last guy, though, who I'd heard someone call Joe, had a standup hardon when he came to piss, and his liquid went through the air in a high arc. Next to me Tommy started breathing real heavy, and soon another load of young boycum was splattered across the wall in front of him.

The visuals weren't over yet, though, not by a long shot, `cause when Joe shook off the last drops of piss from his boner, he didn't put his dick back in his pants. Instead he started running his fist up and down it, real nice and slow. "Man, I get so fuckin' horny when I get stoned," he said over his shoulder to the other guys. They guffawed loudly.

"You packin' wood again, Anderson?" my brother jeered. "Man, your dick is boned all the time. You sure you're not a fag?"

"Eat me, McNamara," Joe snapped back. "I'm just horny all the time, that's all."

"Come to think of it, dope makes me pretty hot, too," Bret chimed in, and from where I was standing I could see that he was starting to rub the palm of his hand up and down the front of his swimming suit. "I've had some excellent sex when I've been stoned."

"Me, too," said Steve. "I feel like I'm gonna shoot my brains out when I cum inside a pussy stoned."

"I guess you shot `em out already, cause you don't seem like you've got too much brains left," Alex snorted, but even though he was sitting with his back to me, I could see his right hand start to move in front of him, too.

"Looks like we could get a little circlejerk action going here, cause sure don't see no pussy around here," Joe suggested. There was a minute of silence in the clearing, but Bret took advantage of it to stick his hand inside his Speedos and start rubbing more seriously. I had my own fist right around my five-inch boner, and my shorts were back down around my ankles. I went slow, though, cause I sure didn't want to blast until I saw what was gonna happen in the field.

"Aw, fuck, you guys are total preverts," Alex groaned, but in two more seconds he was standing up and pulling his T-shirt over his head. Alex, who was 19 and was on leave from the Army, was sort of an unofficial group leader. Steve, his best friend, was 18 and worked at the local auto shop. His brother Damien was 16 and a senior in high school, allowed to hang out with the older kids because he was outstanding at baseball and mid-distance track running and because, to hear tell, he was on fucking terms with nearly every girl in school and in town. Bret, 17, had dropped out in the 9th grade and was as good looking as he was dumb. People said that he had a kid by a girl in the next city over, but no girl and no baby ever turned up, so we dismissed that as small-town gossip. Bret was kind of a drifter but always seemed to have beer and, it now turned out, dope.

In about 30 seconds all five of the guys in the clearing were out of all of their clothes except their shoes and back down in the grass, five hands stroking five hard boners. "I guess that dope stuff really does work," I whispered, and Tommy whispered back: "Wish we had us some." I noticed that he was working on his third woody of the day, so I guess he didn't need it all that much.

Coincidentally and luckily the five hot guys in the clearing were spread out so that all five of them were more or less facing the shed, and we had an unobstructed view of the five of them jacking off their cocks. Alex, Steve and Damien were all jerking off the classic college way -- fists wrapped around their cockshafts, letting their balls bounce around in their free hands. Joe was backhanding his dick, which was huge and uncut, while Brett was lazily slapping his nine thick, hard inches against his inner thigh. It was making his low-hanging balls jump up and down, smacking down against the grass on the downswing each time. Of course there were nine hard cocks within a 20-foot radius right then. All four of us in the shed were spanking bone furiously, cause none of us had ever seen anything like this before. Judging from the stiff, purple cockheads in the hands of my three buddies, they weren't shocked by watching studs jerk off -- not at all. Jason and Patrick's hairless cocks looked bigger than ever before to me, and I could see, was going to inaugurate his first-cum day with a hat trick. At least.

Not that I was really watching my friends that much, cause I saw their pricks most every day. I had seen Alex's dick lots of times before, because my brother definitely wasn't shy about parading around in the bedroom that we had always shared. Once, when he was 13 and I was 7, he made me put my mouth on his dick and slide it up and down for a while, which made him moan and groan a whole lot, but nothing happened, and that was the last time he ever did that. I was too young and stupid to think about how maybe if Alex liked to do things with his dickie, I might like it, too. Ever since Alex had joined the army and moved away, I had luxuriated in having the room all to myself -- finally! -- but the queerboy in me always looked forward to my big brother coming home for leave so that I could scope him out dressed and undressed alike. No matter how much we masturbated out at our shack in the woods, my dick never failed to respond to my brother's smooth, muscular body and big dick. When jerking off I often wished that he would make me suck his dick again, cause I had never done it to anybody but that once, but he never did. Now he was sitting in front of me, his fist pounding up and down his big dick, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. I wondered what he was thinking about.

There was no doubt what Joe and Brett were thinking about. They were scoping out each other's dicks and everybody else's too. I couldn't know whether they were fagging out or whether it was just the sexy nature of the moment, but they were definitely gazing at the sites while they were beating their meats. Steve was lying flat on his back, pumping his hips up and down to coincide with the slick movement of his fist. Damien, the youngest of the bunch, was squatting on his knees, sliding his hand up and down his length of glistening cockmeat, his huge balls starting to rise up in his ballsack. Damian, too, was lost in his own little world.

"I can't believe it," I heard Jason sigh behind me, and then his little hips were bucking back and forth again, his stone-hard pricklet throbbing in orgasm, even with nothing coming out. True to form, Patrick dry-blasted a load, his cute face turning deep red with the effort to keep quiet while he let the feeling course through his small, tight body. Sometimes Patrick was a yeller when he had his little-boy orgasms, but this time he didn't need to be told to maintain silence, and when he finished I saw that his dick was just as hard as before.

My brother and his buddies were stroking faster and faster out in the clearing, and I was regulating the pressure on my own cock very carefully to keep it tingling at maximum excellence but no way to start jetting, cause I wanted to see some big boy cum now that I had gotten a first look at it happening with Tommy.

I didn't have long to wait. With a deep growl Damien rose from his knees to squat on his haunches, his muscular body crunched over and taut. In about two seconds he let out a shuddering roar and let go a splat of white rocket juice that whipped four feet into their and then landed all over Bret's hard stomach. A second spurt quickly followed, perfectly aimed to slick up Bret's masturbating fist. "Aw, you motherfucker," Bret protested, but obviously his heart wasn't in the bitching, cause about one nanosecond later he let go his own blast of hose milk, and his blast smacked him on the chin so hard that I swear I could hear the sound 10 feet away. In nothing at all Bret was drenched in his own cum and Damien's, and he sagged back down into the grass dripping. Damien was still doing his post-shoot stroke, his tight asscheeks clenched, sweat dripping from his handsome face and smooth pecs, the last gooey drops of cum dangling from his swollen cockhead.

Steve was next to give a final thrust with his hips and then squeeze the base of his cock tight as ropes of cum started shooting out, quickly sliming him from his chest right down to his pubes. That was enough for Tommy, who clamped the ledge of the windowsill with his left hand and rose up on his toes, almost off the fuckin ground as he let another orgasm blast its way through his tight body. A second later a thin stream of sperm shot out about three feet into the air, with some of it landing on my forearm. Without thinking about it for a second I raised my arm to my mouth and licked the salty boyjuice off myself. Did I like the taste? Do raccoons root around in garbage cans? I sure the fuck did.

Joe was the next of the big guys to finish up his jerk. His cum more oozed than shot out of his massive dick, but there was a lot of it. Joe looked fuckin great with his face caught up in that big orgasm.

"You guys are too fuckin fast," my brother grunted, but then he was quick to follow -- this might be family pride talking, but he had more cum and it shot further away than from any of the other guys -- if spermjuice is fertilizer, the grass in that little clearing is gonna grow real good next summer. That did it for me. I felt something building up inside me that felt better than anything I had ever felt before -- better than when I got into a fantasy of jacking off with all of the guys on my 8th grade swim team, better even than when I jerked off with a pair of Alex's sweaty jockey shorts over my head. I felt a little gasp escape from me as the gut-busting explosion started deep inside me and then -- I couldn't believe it! -- juice started spurting out of my cock -- not a lot of it, but spurting and spurting like it wouldn't stop until fucking Christmas. Tommy gaped in amazement and then slapped me quietly on the butt. "Congratulations, dude," he whispered. "Welcome to the squirt club."

I felt so unbelievably good -- my whole body felt like it was being tickled with feathers, and I couldn't believe that I had blasted my first load together with my big brother. Out in the field the guys were using their T-shirts to wipe the gallons of white stuff off themselves. Bret caught a couple of drops that were dripping down his face with his tongue. Damien lazily reached into the cooler, stretching his taut body as he leaned over to grab some more beers and pass them around. Jason, Patrick, Tommy and I looked at each other and got the worst case of the giggles you have ever seen. We must have turned seven shades of purple holding the guffaws in, but my friends are the best -- not a peep came out of that shed, not even once during the 10 minutes that we were completely out of control -- four stark naked boys going apeshit in total silence.

When the guys out in the clearing finished their beers, they suited back up, sticking their cum-soaked shirts into the waistbands of their swimsuits, and smashed their way back out to the highway where they had probably left their cars. Tommy, Jason, Patrick and me jerked off two more times thinking about what we had just witnessed, and each time I spermed a righteous load. Oh, and one more thing -- I could just swear that when the guys were leaving, Damien turned around and gave a hard stare right at our shack. Could he have noticed something even though we were totally quiet? Maybe.

More to follow?

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