Chapter 8
The Greatest Discovery Ever Made

“Dogs have it made. They can lick their crotches anytime they like.
It drives me nuts that I’m only two vertebrae short of never having to leave the house.”
— Overheard at the Queen Mary Show Lounge back bar, Summer of 2000

I really had to pee, and I knew I was late to class, but Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs took over, and dragged me into the boys room. I was 13 or so, In junior high school. My parents had moved to a new neighborhood, so I didn’t know anybody. New school, new neighborhood, and puberty was on the attack in my body, wreaking havoc on my life. I was not a happy camper. Zits marked my face, my hair was a greasy mess. My body couldn’t get it together enough to grow in proportion. My head was too damn big. And my arms seemed too long. I felt like a freakish monster wherever I walked, and when I walked, I stomped, shuffled, and stumbled, like I just got a new pair of legs. If this was adulthood, then fuck it! I just wanted to give it up and crawl back in the womb, where three hots and cot were guaranteed, and girls wouldn’t look at me and giggle.

My dinkie was straining upward, and it was enormous. I knew why this happened. I wasn’t stupid, but I didn’t have a clue what to do about it, or how to hide it. I went into a stall and pulled out my pecker. Another raging erection. I had been getting these damn things for several months, and they were painful. I stood there in front of toilet, completely baffled. I really had to take a leak, but how? The fucking thing was stuck in the full upright position, and much to my chagrin it didn’t come with an owners manual. I tried bending it down, and it hurt. The stream that was released hit the wall, and blasted me in the chin when I let go. Shit! I muttered under my breath. I wiped my chin and tried sitting down. I leaned forward so my body was more in line with the fleshy nozzle, and fired another salvo. Most of it wound up in the toilet, splashing against the rim, but a slip of my fingers, and the hot piss shot over the rim, and dribbled down my pant leg.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

I decided to just wait for a few minutes and see if the swelling went down. I was going to catch hell for being late, but what could I do? That’s when I heard this sound coming from the next stall over. A kind of rhythmic slapping.

Thwok!
Thwok!
Thwok!

I pulled up my pants, and took a peek around the divider. There was Mark Snyder from my geography class sitting on the throne. He had one arm between his legs, his hand wrapped around his plucked chicken, yanking on it furiously.

ThwokThwokThwokThwok!

“Hey Mark, whatcha doin’?” I asked quietly, not sure if I should disturb him or not.

Mark looked up from his labor, but not losing his rhythm, and stated quite openly. “I’m jerking off.”

“Why?” I was fascinated.

“Because it feels great.” He replied, starting to breathe harder and sit up straighter. “Hang on a minute, I’m almost done.”

I waited politely as Mark went at his task with renewed gusto and verve. His hand became a blur, his breath a rabid pant. He started to groan, which, given that his voice was changing, seemed to slide up and down from soprano to baritone, all at once. It was not a pretty sound. Finally, with one last moan of a note, sung flatly but loudly, he relaxed.

“Man, that was good.” He pulled up his pants as though nothing had happened.

“What the hell were you doing?” I needed to know.

“I was jerking off. You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Aw, come on man. It’s the best feeling in the world. All the guys do it. It’s cool.” It was obvious Mark was a devoted Master Masturbator.

“How do you do it?”

“You just grab your dick and start pulling on it. Then it gets hard, then you come! That’s the best part!”

“Really?”

“Sure, whip it out,” he said digging in his own pants. “I could go again anyway.”

“Do I need to sit down?” I asked earnestly, digging in my pants. A momentary twinge of shame hit me, only to be brushed away by the thirst for new knowledge.

“Yeah, it probably is best the first time. I can do it standing up, so I’ll talk ya through it. Hell I can do it anywhere but I’ve had practice. Okay, now close your eyes and think about something hot. Like Mrs. Grawl naked.”

Mrs. Grawl was our Geography teacher, and she really was one hot bit ‘o crumpet.

Mark was an excellent teacher. “Whoa man, you already got a chubby! That’s good, you’re halfway there. Now just start pulling. Some guys like the whole hand around the dick but I like the two-finger style. It works best.”

He demonstrated slowly, on his own tool, ‘till I got the hang of it. And minutes later, we were happily wanking away with reckless abandon. This was super! This was fabulous! This was Christmas, and Halloween, and roller coasters, all rolled into one! Why the hell was this kept from me? This made all the pain of puberty and growing up blow away, like condom wrappers in the wind. Mrs. Grawl’s imagined nudity, however, melted away, and I saw Tempest again, whirling her fans around her body in slow motion.

She was smiling at me.

People celebrate birthdays like that was some big deal. I mean how hard is it to be born? I think a far more important occasion would have to be a kid’s first Wankday! But the best was yet to come, and when it did come, boy howdy! Waves of pleasure, weakness in the legs, blurred vision.

Whoosh!

Bang!

Fireworks!

Hot showers, and a mountain of candy, all rolled into one anguished pleading moan of longing and desire! Followed by absolute peace of mind and a general gooshy mooshy feeling all over.

“Mmmmmmmmm...oh yeah...Good shit,”

Mark really had something there, I would be doing this often.

How do you thank a dude for a present like that? It was like all your life you had been living right next to the best amusement park in the world, but it was hidden by a high fence and nobody told you. You can hear other people screaming, and having a good time, but you can’t figure out where it’s coming from. Along comes this guy who says “Dude, it’s right over there. Through that hole in the fence.” Suddenly everything about your miserable life is different.

Before I had a chance to say anything in the form of gratitude, Mark smiled a crooked smile that said “Welcome to the club, dude,” and he left. His work was done here and he was off to spread the word of masturbation to a frustrated horny pubescent world. It was a noble cause. Who was that masked chicken-chokin’ man?

It took several minutes for me to recover, while my erection shrunk down to its accustomed length. I could freely pee again. In my fantasy, Tempest had been dancing on stage, and that was hot all on its own. In my mind, however, without my conscious bidding, I became Tempest. Nothing between me and the faceless men out there in the dark, beyond the stage apron, but a pair of giant red wings. It was so real. I could still feel her heels on my feet, the weight of her breasts on my chest, and I was overcome with emotion. I knew that night, and every night after that, I would be rockin’ myself to sleep to a new tune! The demon was awake.
 

– to be continued –