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 Memories.

   ( M Solo Mast WS )

   An old man lay in bed, his mind was vividly remembering, his right hand
was gently touching his flaccid penis.  Holding the tip of it almost in the
same way that he would hold a pencil or pen.  He loved the feel of the soft
skin of the glans, his fingers moved softly on the head of his cock. 
Occasionally a small drop of precum would wet him, and he would gently
smooth the viscous liquid into the the skin.

   His thoughts were on his own youth.  He hadn't learned to really
masturbate until he was in high school, it was the year he had been in a
boarding school.  He had been sleeping, when suddenly an older student had
burst into his room, turned on the light and grabbed the covers off of his
room mate in the lower bunk.  The noise and light had shocked him into
wakefulness.  The harsh "Get out of bed!" had confused him.  The older
student had pulled his room mate from the bed, out into the hall way.  But
why?

   He climbed down from the top bunk, followed his roommate to the hallway
a questioned look on his face.  He saw shame in Tom's face.  He heard the
older student saying something about jacking off.  By then three more older
students were there, and they were all making comments to his roommate,
Tom, about jacking off.  Things like. . .

   "What were you going to do with it when you cum?" "Were you just going
to wipe it on your sheets?" "Were you just going to leave the cum on your
hands?"

   The old man thought of how little he had known about sex of any kind at
that age, what had he been then, maybe 14 years old.  He thought, what had
they been talking about?  What did they mean when they said cum?  What was
there to need to wipe up.  Surely Tom wasn't pissing in the bed.  None of
it made sense.  But he guessed that Tom must have been touching his own
penis and doing something with it.  The old man remembered how he had
decided then that what ever it was Tom had been doing must be something
that felt good, or Tom wouldn't have taken the chance of getting caught
like that.  He thought back, there had been another boy in his class who
had been caught doing something, but he wasn't sure it was the same.  The
other boy's name was Ron.  That boy had been teased almost beyond belief,
they had called him "Thumper".  Thumper had been jacking off too.

   He lay there in bed, still gently playing with his cock, still soft, his
eyes still closed, and remembered how a few weeks later he had gone home
from the boarding school, and thought about what he thought Tom and Ron
might have been doing.  He had been so innocent.  Alone at home in his room
he had gotten undressed and played with his penis.  It had gotten hard, and
it had felt good.  He had played like this before, but had always stopped
just after it got hard.  This time, he decided he had to know if there was
more to it.  What would happen if he kept playing with it.  If he wrapped
his fingers around it.  If he squeezed it.

   He could not remember back to when he had first played with his penis.
He always new it felt really good when he touched it.  But he also knew
that you weren't supposed to touch yourself.  His parents had told him many
times that his "privates" were private, and not to be touched.  He didn't
really understand why, but they had told him.

   They had lived in a big old Victorian house when he was small.  He loved
to play up in the attic, it was a big open space, and a small bedroom that
had once been for a maid, when a previous owner had been there.  His mom
had a bad heart and in all the years they had been in that house had never
climbed the stairs to the attic, so he knew that he was alone, safe in the
attic.

   He would look at old adds for lady's lingerie, sometimes it made his
little penis get hard.  He discovered that he loved the intense feeling
that he had as he knew he needed to pee, but held his pee in.  If he did
this, held his pee when he really had to go, at the same time he touched
himself, and when he looked at pictures of bras and girdles in his mom's
old women's magazines. . . .  it just felt good.

   One day he had really had to pee.  He was in the attic, he was laying on
the floor naked, just touching himself and he didn't want to get dressed to
go all the way downstairs to go to the bathroom.  He held his penis
tightly, almost holding the pee in, and then suddenly he let go and the
feeling of the pee squirting out was wonderful.  The sudden release was
amazing, it squirted up and landed on him.  He kept pissing, he soaked his
chest, he soaked his hands, his legs were wet.  It felt great!  He loved
the warm wet water as it landed on him.  He loved the feeling in his penis
when he first started to squirt.

   The old man kept gently playing with his penis.  Remembering how after
that first time he had peed on himself, he had wanted to do it more and
more.  How he had gone up into the attic other times and played with his
penis and peed all over himself.  How after that he had played with his pee
other times too.  Sometimes he would just stand at the toilet and hold his
penis in one hand to aim, but put his other hand in the stream.

   There were times when he would do the same holding of the pee as he took
a bath, and then he would get hard and pee straight up in the air.  He
loved feeling the warm pee land on him.

   The old man thought back to when his room mate had been caught, and
thought that Tom could not have been peeing in bed, but there must have
been something equally, or maybe even more exciting.  That day when he was
home from school, he determined that he had to figure it out.  He had kept
playing with his penis, squeezing it, rubbing it, what was it that Tom, and
Ron too, had felt that was so worth taking the chance of being caught by
older students and then teased about mercilessly.  He kept touching
himself, and then. . .  it happened.  His penis grew suddenly harder, it
felt like he was going to pee, but with more intensity than he had ever
felt before.  He knew he had to pee, but it felt so good, so very good to
keep rubbing the glans of his penis, and he knew he had to relax a bit to
pee, so he kept rubbing, and then . . .WOW.  White sticky stuff came out in
great gobs.  It wasn't like pee, pee just came in one great stream.  This
came in spurts and then stops and then spurts.  And it felt sticky and
gooy, not like pee at all.  But the intense feelings in his penis were
amazing.

   Now he knew what the others had been doing that was so important that
they took the chance of getting caught.

   The old man lay in bed remembering all of these things.  Remembering
when he could cum so easily.  Remembering when he came in great gobs of
cum. How much there had been, and how he had made a mess of himself with
cum.  He closed his eyes, held his soft penis in his fingers.  He fell
asleep and dreamed of his youth.