I first got involved in circle wanks, believe it or not, when I was a member of the Boy Scouts. I belonged to the First Applecross Troop in a riverside suburb of Perth, Western Australia. Thinking back I realize this may have been one of the gayest Boy Scout troops in the whole of Australia. Of course in those days my school mates and I had never heard of the term “gay” pertaining to sex and we’d certainly never come across the word “homosexuality.” We’d had it drummed in to us that it was “dirty” to even think about touching up girls. But no one had told us that we shouldn’t play with each other. I guess you could say we were innocent or at least naive in a queer sort of way. Nevertheless, some instinct told us that we should be very discreet about our “playing”, it was to be kept a dire secret in our own little world.
My first brush with sex came when I was the age of twelve. I’d started to get regular erections and my cock would pop up in my grey school boy shorts at the most inconvenient of times. I’d heard about wanking but didn’t really know what it meant. Then the word went round our junior high school one Friday afternoon. An older lad (all of about sixteen) who was from another nearby high school was going to give an exhibition of wanking on the following morning. This was Neil Hamilton who I imagine, thinking back, must have been a straight boy or at least bi because he had the not so savoury reputation of fucking both his sisters in the family bathroom when their parents were out at work.
So early on the Saturday morning twenty or so of us gathered in a small bushland clearing just off the sports oval of our school. Neil Hamilton turned up on time and asked the boys to form a circle.
“Have any of yous started wanking yet?
Two of the older lads (about thirteen) rather sheepishly raised their hands.
“OK… for the benefit of the rest of yous I’ll show you how it’s done.”
With that he dropped his shorts, releasing a fairly large uncut cock into the fresh morning air. It was already rock hard. With his right hand he started to pull and push his foreskin up and down the shaft. He obviously had a fairly generous amount of skin because I recall that it would completely cover the cock head with each stroke. I noticed that I was getting hard myself and that several of my mates had tent like shapes in their shorts. After Neil had been stroking for about ten minutes he shouted: “Here it comes” and I was astonished to see jets of white liquid spurting out of his piss hole. Now this was confusing. Was that what some of my friends called “spunk”? I’d always thought that the slit on the end of my cock was exclusively for pissing out of. Wow, talk about multi-purpose? There was a sporadic burst of applause.
Now, grinning rather sheepishly, Neil Hamilton shook leftover drops of cum off the end of his cock, pulled up his shorts and disappeared into the bush without saying a word. I couldn’t wait to go home and experiment.
Back to the Boy Scout troop. A couple of weeks after Neil’s demo it was the school holidays and my folks had signed me up for a camping trip in the Darling Ranges with the scouts. We arrived in the hills on a Saturday and set about putting up the tents. I always loved this phase of scouting, working out how to pitch the canvas, banging in the tent pegs, tying off the ropes with the intricate knots we’d practised. The reef knot was my favourite; there was something deeply satisfying about pitching a tent.
After the pitching was over Mr Boswell the Scout Master called us together and told us we had a choice – we could go for a bushwalk with him (most of the guys cheered at this) or because we’d had a fairly long journey and had worked hard pitching the tents, those boys who were tired could rest in the tents if they wanted to. I elected to stay and rest as did Tim, a rather dark skinned boy who was a member of my patrol and would be sleeping in my tent. I thought that Tim’s ancestors may have come from some place in the middle east, or maybe even the Indian sub-continent but he had a broad enough Aussie accent.
The sleeping arrangements were basic – as befitted hardy, adventurous boy scouts. Just sleeping bags rolled out on rubber ground sheets.
Tim and I went to our tent and lay down on our sleeping bags. However I soon realized that my mate had no notion of just resting. I was quite surprised when he stepped out of his khaki shorts and knelt on his bag. He didn’t try to conceal the fairly large erection that jutted out in front of him and I noted with interest that he was uncut although, of course, I didn’t say anything. He gave his cock a few strokes and then looked at me. “There’s a group of us do this all the time at Army Cadets Kev. You should’ve joined.” With that he went back to his wanking and I felt myself hardening. I couldn’t take my eyes off Tim’s fairly loose foreskin riding up and down his shaft. At last I could stand it no longer. I slipped off my shorts and started pulling my own medium sized uncut cock. Tim gave me a complicit grin.
“My dad tried to talk to me about wanking the other day” he chirped. “It was all so embarrassing. He tried to ask me if I’d started wanking – can you believe it? Anyway, he told me not to, that it was bad for my eyesight and that in any case I should save my spunk for the girl I’ll marry. Well, that took me by surprise Kev. I’ve been wanking every day since the beginning of the year but I’d never thought about my future wife.” Tim stopped in mid stroke and looked at me. “You know Kev I thought, well maybe Dad’s right. Maybe I should save it for… then I thought, nah, why should I worry? I’m sure the girl I marry won’t miss a few drops.”
With that Tim started pulling his cock again in earnest and I could see that his well-shaped head was swelling and turning red. He gasped and shot more than just a few drops all over his ground sheet.
– An excerpt from ‘Burmese Boy’ by Kevin Armstrong.