Boy Crazy, page 13
Lyktos introduced us. “We wish to be initiated, sir,” I said.
“You would serve the Porpoise God?” he asked.
“We would.”
“You would make due obeisance to the Deities of the Fishes, to Poseidon, and to the Phallic Dolphin?”
“Yes.”
“Then, enter.”
It seemed that our initiation was to commence on the spot. That surprised me, for I assumed that elaborate rituals, fasting, bathing, purging, and weeks of prayer must occur before the actual ceremony. I soon learned that the Dolphin Divinity was a happy-go-lucky god who did not go in for time-wasting formalities. He demanded absolute submission to immediate gratification. “Orgasm Now” was his motto.
The priest, Nausitheus, explained how the arousal of the masculine organ, with its subsequent orgasm and ejaculation, were the gifts of the Porpoise or Dolphin god. That was the mystery of the rite, the secret that no noninitiate, and most certainly no woman, must ever know. He bade us turn, and looking back through the door, we saw that the phallic porpoises resembled erect penises. It must have been an ocular deception, but the statues appeared to be spurting their fluids into the air. The sight quickened my heart and stiffened my cock in my loincloth.
“Now, you will join the outer circle of the great rite,” Nausitheus commanded. He summoned two temple boys, about our own ages, who had dedicated themselves fully to the god. Scamander and Teucer seemed jolly fellows, and they were eager to assist Asterius, Phaeax, and me in performing the ritual. Of course, Lyktos, already an initiate, was also showing us the way.
Lyktos, Scamander, and Teucer led Asterius, Phaeax, and me through the great room and behind the altar. There stood a smaller room concealed by a curtain of purple cloth. The boys had us remove everything: loincloths, our sandals that laced to our knees, and our ornaments. Scamander and Teucer stripped alongside us, though they had far less to remove. Then Scamander dropped to his knees and revealed a narrow tunnel sloping downward. Constructed from thick stones cut fine and closely fitted, the tunnel was just high enough to navigate on our hands and knees.
Crawling behind Scamander, I felt my friends behind me. Once the tip of my nose brushed the crack of Scamander’s ass, which made him giggle irreverently. After a long crawl, we emerged into a circular room high enough for a tall man to stand comfortably. Shafts brought fresh air to us and flaming torches illuminated the scene. The walls around the circle were frescoed with explicit scenes of masturbation. I looked at one grouping of six boys, sitting in a circle. Each boy was fondling the erect penis of the boy next to him, and some of the cocks were already spurting.
“Welcome to the Masturbaria,” Teucer said.
Asterius, Phaeax, and I had no doubt regarding what the boys expected us to do there. I, for one, was thrilled, and I could see from their torchlit faces that Asterius and Phaeax were equally eager.
We six boys stood in a circle. “Place your hand upon your penis, and rub it while I offer the prayer of the Dolphin Heresy,” Teucer commanded. Grinning, we gripped our cocks and masturbated slowly while we listened to the charge.
“Oh, Divinity of the Playing Porpoises. We stroke our cocks with holy purpose. In your honor, we will take extreme pleasure from our hands and phalluses until we fill the air with spurts of our sacred juice.”
Before that day, masturbation was an act I had performed in secret, alone, and never mentioned. Touching my hard dick in a circle of boys was a little frightening, but tremendously liberating. The approval of the god only made it more exciting.
An amphora sat on the stone floor in the center of our circle. Scamander dipped his hand into the vessel and emerged with a palm cupping oil. He poured some oil into my palm, and repeated the ritual with each of my friends. Scamander commanded, “Do exactly as I do.”
Curling his fingers around his cock, Scamander lubricated the shaft, stroking its length, including his generous foreskin. After several strokes, his stretched skin was slick. As we mimicked his actions ardently, my cock trembled as though beckoning me to milk it. Still, I could not beat it, as I desired to do. I had to follow the actions of the group, as led by Scamander and Teucer.
The sexual tension grew until I thought I must erupt. Just when I thought I could wait no longer, Scamander formed a ring around the base of his dick with his right thumb and forefinger. He slid the ring up his shaft and when the ring reached the foreskin, he formed a parallel ring with his left and worked it up. Teucer duplicated Scamander’s stroke. Both boys returned their right hands to the base of their cocks and repeated the process. Their fingers stroked up, never down.
“Keep a smooth motion,” Teucer advised. “Come near to the tip with one hand before you start up with your other.”
Even as I hastened to follow the boys’ movements, I couldn’t pull my eyes from their dicks. My companions were attempting the same finger slide, not without a little giggling. Asterius, Phaeax, and I felt deliriously strange to be performing so intimate an act with others. My face may have reddened slightly as I slid my fingers up my cock and pumped my foreskin two handed. A thrill shot through me. However strange and intimate the circle seemed to me then, I found group masturbation almost unbearably erotic.
I watched the other boys’ cocks and hands while I stroked my own in this curious way. Lifting my eyes to the wall frescoes, I observed that the unknown artist had depicted our game exactly. Staring at the picture enhanced the pleasurable sensations building in my cock, and not wishing to ejaculate too quickly, I lowered my eyes. Surprisingly, my gaze met Lyktos’s, and the memory of our kiss flooded into my brain. My lips recalled the sensation of his warm lips on mine, his hot tongue pushing into my mouth, my tongue meeting his, and my tongue slipping between his lips.
As those pleasant memories weakened my knees, Scamander called for our attention. “We will now change our stroke.” He interlocked his four fingers, overlapped his thumbs, and slid his cock through the hole. He closed his hands and slid them up and down.
I wobbled as I followed his action. The effect was pure bliss, but we could not continue this action long. It made us too weak in the legs. When we were all close to falling, Teucer nodded to Scamander.
“Let’s sit now,” Scamander said. Grateful and quivering, we sat in a circle, our hard cocks jutting between our legs, the stone floor slightly cool against our bare asses.
Using one hand, Teucer grasped his shaft firmly and lightly rubbed his thumb over his cock’s head. He didn’t move his hand; only his thumb circled his foreskin. His speed never varied, and the rest of us followed suit. Directly across from me Lyktos sat with an expression of feral bliss seaming his face as he stared lasciviously at my cock.
I felt like I would orgasm at any moment, but the rhythm was insufficient to force me over the threshold. I could only turn my thumb as raptures rippled through my cock, tingles that could not grow into delirious thrills.
Scamander switched us from the circular motion to a back and forward movement; Teucer shifted quickly, with Lyktos, Asterius, and Phaeax following. I didn’t have to think about it; my thumb followed suit. Each soft swish of my thumb caused my penis to quiver. My eyes were riveted upon Lyktos’s cock, in between stealing glances at Teucer’s, Asterius’s, Phaeax’s, and Scamander’s soaring members. Their dicks trembled at the torturous touch. I became aware of an intense ecstasy in my cockhead, which deepened as I swished my thumb. My dick hovered on the verge of orgasm, but still the movement was sufficient only to keep me on that precipice without tipping me over the brink.
Without warning, Scamander gripped his cock with a clench that looked like the one I’d always used in solitary masturbation. However, looks were deceiving—his stroke was light. He chased this series of slow strokes with a run of quick jerks. The effect of this grip was miraculous. I wanted to discharge, and I felt like I was about to discharge, but I couldn’t. The stroke produced a sensation that degenerated into slow torment.
“Would our newest initiate like to demonstrate a movement?” Scamander asked.
“Try this,” Lyktos challenged, rising to a squat. He pumped his cock with his right hand and rubbed his balls with his left.
Scamander ordered, “Do as Lyktos does, boys.”
My cock throbbed, but my thigh muscles were tearing. Lyktos pulled down on his balls as he rocked his ass to fuck his fist. We duplicated his motion. As I thrust into my hand, I knew I would explode soon. I swung my rump, driving my erection through my sturdy fist. When I pulled my cock back to thrust again, the tension sent spasms through my leg muscles. I was seconds away from those pelvic contractions that would fling semen from my penis. Pre-orgasmic tingles tore through my foreskin and burrowed deep into my cock’s head.
Scamander resumed command of our hand motions before we crossed the point where orgasm became inevitable. He reclined onto his back, elevated his legs so high that we could see his dark hole in the crack between his dark-skinned buttocks, and gripped his cock shaft with his right hand. Using only a fingertip, he performed a circular motion under the head of his cock. He pressed hard, so his finger did not slide over the surface, but shifted the skin.
When the rest of us had reclined in a circle, Scamander ordered, “Move nothing but your fingertip. Keep your body still.
This peculiar stimulus left my cock blaring for deep kneading. I had trouble keeping my finger on the spot because my dick kept bucking. The intense pulsation traveled down the shaft and rippled up my stomach. Phaeax raised his hips, but Scamander admonished him. “Don’t give in to it, Phaeax. You do not have permission to ejaculate. Not until I give the order.”
The torment increased exponentially. The god was summoning my fluids; I had to spurt for him. I thought that I could not stand the torture for another second.
“Let us squirt for the god now,” Phaeax begged.
“Not yet,” Scamander commanded.
Unbidden, a moan escaped my mouth. I was convinced that another game would ruin my dick forever. “Now, please,” I gasped, making Teucer giggle.
Scamander shook his head. “You boys are going to ejaculate when I say so. Not before. Now do as I do.”
To my delight, Scamander latched on to Lyktos’s cock. He gripped it hard, squeezing it like a piece of citrus. Lyktos grabbed Asterius’s cock, Asterius did the same with Teucer, and Teucer seized hold of mine. The effect was phenomenal—my heart leaped up and I felt the semen rising in my dick. I was so far gone in lust that I gripped Phaeax’s cock and squeezed unthinkingly. The thrill of touching a cock that was not my own made me gasp. I was hardly aware that Phaeax had laid his hand on Scamander’s penis, thus completing the holy circle.
Releasing his squeeze, Scamander drummed the side of Lyktos’s cock with his fingers; then he slapped Lyktos’s dickhead with his palm. The movement traveled around the circle.
“That hurts…so good,” I blurted, swatting Phaeax’s dick. The words had whooped from my mouth.
Scamander rose to his knees and pushed toward the center. We did the same, and each boy started fucking the fist that gripped his dick. Not one of us lasted ten strokes.
“I’m going off like Charybdis,” Scamander said. His cock was bucking in Lyktos’s hand, and a thick squirt of his jism splattered onto Teucer’s forearm and even decorated his stomach and chest. Meanwhile my own pelvic muscles were contracting as an intense orgasm rippled up my cock. I felt the squirt that shot out the back of Teucer’s fist and hit Asterius directly on the mouth.
Lyktos continued to shoot his juices, which creamed me from groin to chin, and even though I was simultaneously humping Teucer’s fist and milking off Phaeax with my own, I saw Teucer’s boy stuff splattering onto Scamander’s wine-dark and glistening skin.
It was the longest orgasm I’d ever experienced. As Lyktos’s sticky semen slid down my stomach, my own continued to squirt. Our bodies were tingling squirting masses of bucking flesh, and the mad spasms went on.
In the fullness of time, our orgasms stilled and our mighty contractions ceased, we fell in a heap, drenched with semen. My body slid wetly across the skin of my friends and the scent of our spent semen rose to my nostrils. We rested for a while before we departed from the Masturbaria and crawled back up the tunnel.
“Well done, lads,” Nausitheus offered, examining our sticky bodies. “The Holy Eternal Powers are pleased. The Dolphin God accepts your sacrifice.”
So, once again in the holy Masturbaria, my three friends and I tormented the cock to our right, and enjoyed the hand to our left. Three months had passed since the afternoon of our initiation. My parents had been overjoyed by my acceptance. My mother had risen socially, and my father had prospered economically. My own reward had been quite different.
Though he was a greater believer than I, Lyktos was my best friend. As his hand flogged my penis, I thought again about the afternoon he had kissed me. It had been the only time our lips and tongues had met, but I knew that the potential was great. In the future, he and I would do more things together, exotic things, some that would have been acceptable only to the worshippers of Sirius or the followers of Baal, of whom we had heard tales. For the meantime, his hand pounded my cock, and as his thumb and forefinger massaged my foreskin, I felt the semen rising from my balls. My cock grew heavier, even as I pounded Phaeax’s thick erection with all my strength.
“Oh, Androgeus,” Phaeax groaned. “Oh, that’s good. Think what Dreros missed today.”
“Think not of him,” I groaned as the semen rose higher. The tingles emanating from deep beneath my foreskin grew into earth shakers. Suddenly, I was a believer. I shrieked, “Oh, size-less ones, oh, maker of whales, oh, behemoth, oh, leviathan. I fly to you.”
The lightning of the Titans blasted in my brain. I was the persistence of Cronus, the light of Hyperion, and the water of Oceanus. My hand flogged mightily on Phaeax, giving him no reprieve, no relief from the sexual ecstasy he must endure, while Lyktos forced me to come.
“This is for the Playing Porpoise, Androgeus,” Lyktos howled as the first powerful spurt arched from his penis, flew over Asterius’s head, and splattered against the frescoed wall of the Masturbaria. “The god summons your holy joy. Your fluids join with his, and with ours.”
That was true, for we were all ejaculating. Three months of practice had given us the ability to orgasm and ejaculate as one. Proud we were of our skills and our timing, though we knew that the god accomplished the miracle through us. Our bodies joined with his magnificent existence. Explosive streamers erupted from us as crescendos of increasing pleasure disrupted our cells.
At length, we crawled back out the tunnel, bade farewell to the priest Nausitheus and the temple attendants Scamander and Teucer, and breathed in the brisk air that blew from the wine-dark sea.
“I’m hungry,” Phaeax complained.
“Yes,” Lyktos affirmed. “Holy masturbation has that effect. Once drained, we must eat to replenish our fluids.”
“Let’s go to my house,” I urged, knowing that my parents would gladly host my friends. My friendship with Phaeax¸ Lyktos, and Asterius had brought great benefit to our family, and I knew that my mother had ordered a great banquet of roast lamb, preceded by the fruits of the sea, and followed with spiced vegetables, and a pudding of millet baked with citrus. Lyktos’s father’s best beer would accompany the meal, and after we ate, we boys should be ready to submit another blessed offering to the great god of the Dolphin Temple.
WAR AND PEACE
Simon Sheppard
So why the fuck should I care about War and Peace, anyway?” Dirk asked me.
“Because…” I said, popping open another beer, “because it’s a classic of world literature, that’s why, and it’s about man and his fate.” I swigged down some more Heineken. “Or something.”
“Not convincing,” Dirk said, and threw the very thick book across the room at me. “If it’s so classic, you read it.”
“I did. In high school.”
“I fucking hate you, genius,” Dirk joked.
It was spring of my sophomore year at Berkeley. Dirk and I had been squeezed into a little apartment on Durant Street all semester, and I’d come to enjoy his teasing. I was sorry that next year he’d be going back to Holland. I’d never known a Dutch guy before. Where I grew up, a little town in the Central Valley, there were white guys, Latinos like me, a few blacks, and that was about it. Berkeley was different, a Mecca for students from all over the world. The previous semester I’d been living with my girlfriend, Sarah, a neo-neo-hippie type I’d met in poli-sci. But we broke up—me being insufficiently groovy, as it turned out—and I’d needed a place to live. In a university town in the middle of America’s toughest housing market, I needed a place to live bad. So I’d answered an ad tacked to the student union bulletin board and ended up moving in with Dirk. It was just a crummy studio apartment, but Dirk was running out of money, I needed a place, and so we figured we could stand each other’s company for a few months.
Dirk was blond, handsome, smart, and funny. And tall—six five, although he assured me that back in Holland, he was just average height. We were jammed into close quarters, but I wasn’t looking to find another girlfriend, not until I’d fully gotten over Sarah, so I figured that I could probably do without privacy. I also figured that if any girlfriend of mine met Dirk, I’d be in trouble; the big, blond guy had all the makings of a pussy magnet. With a great accent, to boot.
And that, apparently, was how things were. Shortly after I moved in, Dirk started spending nights out. A lot of nights out. I’d wake up, look over at his bed, still not slept in, and know that the Dutchboy had gotten laid again, the lucky bastard. But whoever she was, Dirk was pretty cagey about her. I never met his girlfriend, or even saw him around campus with a woman in a couple-type pose.
It wasn’t till early May, when we’d come back from a Green Day concert at the Greek Theater and we were still pretty stoned, that I found out why.
