Becoming A Man, Conclusion: Thanksgiving Stuffing

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“Welcome to manhood!” Matt beamed as he walked in and sat down.It was early October in my senior year of high school. Monday morning study hall, hanging out with my usual group of friends. I was officially an adult now, having turned eighteen over the weekend, just a few weeks after Matt. Several of the guys at the table had been to my party on Saturday, but Matt had missed it due to a family function.“Yeah, I got your manhood right here,” I retorted in my best fake New York accent, standing up and holding my hands just above my crotch. Jeff and Ben, sitting on either side of me, quickly shushed me and pulled me back down by my shoulders, though chortling quietly.“Yeah? Well, let’s see it then,” Matt replied in a low but joking voice. He was the king of fake-gay flirtation. Always joking about it, even though he managed to get dates with some of the hottest girls in our school. Matt had a great personality, was nice to everyone, always had a joke ready and was one of the best-liked guys in school. On top of that, though not the best-looking dude, he was in really great shape. He ran and lifted weights a lot, but he was more strong and wiry than musclebound. Between that and his personality, chicks dug him.“Right after school. Just for you.” That was the best I could come up with, but it was enough to get another chuckle out of everyone.Fortunately, our study-hall monitor was known for letting everyone hang out and quietly shoot the shit, playing cards and not even pretending to study. But he isvecbahis did insist we keep the noise level low. And he had zero tolerance for any kind of off-color remarks, which was why my buddies had tried to keep me quiet a moment before. If he’d caught wind of my “manhood” comment, he would have split us up to actually study for the rest of the period, and the fun would be over.A few minutes later, at a moment when we’d paused our quiet conversation to watch Mr. White discipline another group that had gotten a bit loud, Matt leaned back in his chair and declared, “My tits are sore.”“Guys don’t have tits,” said Nick.“Well, what the fuck do you call these?” he replied, pointing both index fingers to the general direction of his nipples. “I think I benched a little too hard this morning. And now I have a tits-ache.” Matt often started his day at the gym, so this was no surprise.“Well, I’d say they’re pecs … but okay fine, whatever. Breasts, tits. Call them what you want,” Nick conceded.“Exactly. And they’re sore, and they need a massage.” Lowering his voice to a sexy, conspiratorial tone, he looked around the group and asked, “Could one of you guys massage my tits after school?” Quiet guffaws around the table, and some glances over to see if we’d attracted unwanted attention. The coast was clear, so Ben pursued this line of conversation: “You say it like it’s sexy or something. Maybe guys have tits, but on us they’re not an erogenous zone.” That was a big word for Ben, but it still was received isveçbahis giriş with general nods and agreement around the table.Matt wasn’t done. “Okay, so if it’s an erogenous zone you want to massage, my dick got a great workout Friday night, and now it’s sore too.” Fluttering his eyelashes and lisping, he asked, “Could one of you guys massage my dick after school?” Nervously stifled snickers and groans followed that. We were pushing our luck now.Matt’s blue eyes had been locked directly on me when he asked the “massage my dick” question. For a second he almost seemed serious, and it caught me off guard for a quick moment. I steered things back toward his weekend. “So who massaged you on Friday? Sarah?” This got everyone giggling again, so I continued, deadpan, “Did you compare tits with her?” We all knew Matt and Sarah had been flirting heavily and were on the verge of hooking up. She was one of the prettiest girls in school, with a vivacious, friendly personality to boot. They’d make a great couple. Hell, they were both so well-liked they’d have made Homecoming King and Queen, if they’d been together at the start of the year.She was pretty thin, and her breasts indeed didn’t appear large, hence the question. “Yeah, turns out my tits are a little bigger, but her nipples run circles around mine.” For some reason, an image flashed in my mind of Sarah’s nipples dragging around Matt’s pecs in a circular motion. To my consternation, I actually felt my teenaged dick start to fill in isveçbahis yeni giriş response. At this point, I’d never had any sexual contact with anyone, male or female. Not even had a real kiss. Total virgin in every way. I considered myself mostly straight, and as a horny teenager, I desperately wanted to get together with a girl. But I was also honest enough to know I leaned at a bit the other way too. I might not be attracted to guys in the romancing sense, nor did I have fantasies about male bodies generally, but I did have fantasies involving dicks. Especially me sucking them. I sure loved my own dick. Not sucking it – or, as the saying goes, I’d never leave the house. Not for lack of trying, though. I couldn’t quite close the gap of that last inch or so, but I still enjoyed shooting my loads into my own mouth. I liked the taste of my own cum, and often imagined myself sucking another guy’s penis and slurping down his tasty seed. I knew one day I would have to try it, even though I had no idea how to go about actually making it happen.In any event, I couldn’t make the leap to picture myself doing it with any of my actual friends. My dick fantasies were always an abstract thing involving a stranger or at least a distant acquaintance outside my usual circle.  So the mental picture of my close friend Matt naked, with Sarah rubbing her tits on him, startled me. Especially since that mental image included more than just their chests rubbing together. In that split second, I saw his firm abs, his “outie” navel, the treasure trail of light brown hairs leading down to his bush, and … whoa, I cut myself off right there, avoiding any phallic mental pictures lest I get a full hard-on while I was sitting with my friends.

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