An Inventive Boy - Chapter One
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction which features sexual activity of a pre-teen and teenage boy. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, I'd recommend that you bail out right here.
I'd love to hear from readers and I'll try to write back. My name is Zane. If you want to get in touch, please email me at wantstrat63@yahoo.com
If you are enjoying this series, I invite you to read my other two fictional stories in "Young Friends," called "Messing Around" and "Boy Arena."
If you can, please support Nifty with a financial donation - whatever you can afford - so that this archive of stories can remain free and available. Just go to http://donate.nifty.org/
+++++++
Chapter One - The Cutting Edge of Technology
I was quite a voracious reader when I was a boy, starting with a series of books about two sets of adventuresome twins, then another series that chronicled the crime detective skills of a couple of handsome teenage brothers.
Finally there was an intriguing series about a teen boy who was an adventurer and inventor. He seemed to be able to construct the most fascinating inventions that would save the day and he was just a teenager! I was an only child, so on rainy days while other kids were home playing board games or building indoor blanket forts with their siblings, I was immersing myself in those stories. Perhaps that gave me the inspiration to come up with my own contraptions, just like my hero Tom in the series of books. Maybe I wasn't able to build my own submarine, but I would manage to come up with some pretty inventive solutions to help take care of an urgent need.
Before I was even a teenager, I had discovered the pleasures that sooner or later, all young males seem to stumble across. There was no internet to learn about such things as boy-pleasure, so my education came at the hand of my best friend, Jon. We were in the same grade at school but he was about a year older and apparently as a result of his "advanced" age, quite familiar with the secret ways of the world. He also had an older brother, so that may have had something to do with it. To be blunt, my buddy Jon had taught me that the penis did more than provide something to hang out of your zipper to pee... Much more. Once he'd given me a hand with some very practical instruction, I took off running, so to speak, with my erect penis in hand.
Now I know that once young boys learn about it, they quickly enjoy regularly stroking off, but I think I'd taken it to the next level. I kind of blame it on my peen, which seemed to have a mind of its own. I'd read (several times) about that problem in my Scout Handbook, in a chapter called "From a Boy to a Man." It taught, as boys matured, there were changes that caused our boy parts to grow, we'd need to shower often and we would sprout hair all over. It also warned that we would sometimes worry about erections and something called nocturnal emissions. The handbook admonished us not to worry, keep our hands off ourselves and just let nature take care of our needs while we slept.
I wasn't having any of that.
In fact, my buddy Jon had initiated my training so early, those boy emissions weren't even a concern. When I first started getting my climaxes, I had dry boy-gasms, with all the intense pleasure and none of the mop-up afterward. To guys who've never experienced the dry boy-gasm and started ejaculating jizz on their first try, I'd describe it like this. Think of the difference between barfing up a bad gas station burrito, and having an episode of the dry heaves. Of course a climax is pleasure and puking is total misery, but there's quite a difference between emptying one's stomach with a quick attack of projectile vomiting and a prolonged session of dry heave spasms, yes? It's all about the intensity. Now, just consider a boy's tender young loins, clenching down hard to try to ejaculate semen that his body doesn't yet produce. Think that felt amazing? Yes it did... Intensely. Sometimes I would see stars while I was riding that wave.
I wouldn't say I was such a chronic little masturbator that I was obsessed with it during every waking moment, but I was close. It often seemed, even if I wasn't actively stroking my stiffy at the moment, I was enjoying the after-glow of an intense session of self-love, or anticipating my next one. When I was in my six month-long dry boy-gasm stage, if I popped my boner I could just duck in somewhere private, slip my hand down inside the front of my underpants and rub one out in a minute or two, with no clean-up! Once I started to ejaculate squirts of the thin, clear boy-fluid, that complicated things just a bit, but it didn't slow me down at all. In fact, just like my old hero Tom from the books, my mental wheels were turning. In the dark corners of my testosterone-addled preadolescent pea brain I was devising methods to make it happen without needing to use my hand or even my messing-around buddy, Jon. After all, he wasn't always available.
By the time was almost 12 years old, I already knew that it felt a lot better to get my boy-gasms with a friend than it was by doing it by myself. Only problem was, there were a lot more times that I was by myself, had a boner and was in need, than I was with a friend who was there and willing to help me out. I was known for building imaginative contraptions, so I put my horny young mind to work on the problem at hand. Keep in mind, this was during the dark ages of the last century, with no internet and practically no way a boy could find out about sex stuff other than word on the street or scout campouts. My stroke material was certain issues of "National Geographic" and the underwear section of the Sears catalog until my best friend gifted me an issue of a sleazy little girlie magazine called "Vue." It was time to take things to the next level. This was going to be an invention entirely of my own design. At that point in my life, I had no knowledge of "sex toys," but I was about to invent one!
I decided that the motion that I needed would come from something electric. I'd already invented my early version of the fleshlight. It was a cardboard toilet paper roll, lined with one of my gym socks. It was a nice, snug fit around my little boner and provided plenty of stimulation so I could do the deed. I'd either hold it in my hand, insert my dick and stroke with it, or I'd slip it between my mattress and box spring, then mount up and literally fuck my bed until I got my boy-gasm. Using that method, I'd perfected the pelvic thrust motion I needed to get off and propagate the species by the time I was 12. But I needed more.
Like my hero Tom Swift from the boy's adventure books, I wanted to perfect my invention. I needed to power up! I checked my junk drawer, my dad's workshop and the storage boxes up in the attic, but came up empty. That all changed one Sunday dinner. My mom was in the kitchen, getting everything ready when I saw it! She was using her brand-new electric carving knife to slice up the roast and I couldn't help but notice the rapid oscillating motion of the cutting blades! This would be the heart of my latest invention, the "Jak-Buddy-65!" All I needed to do was brainstorm a way to use it to provide me with hands-free, intense climaxes while dodging the very real risk of slicing off my stiff boy-weenie like a Sunday roast.
My solution to incorporating my mom's oscillating blades of death with my fleshlight jerk off device was elegant in its simplicity. I surprised even myself when I thought of it. Of course! Duct tape! First, I needed to reinforce my toilet paper tube dick sleeves so they could take the pounding of a 110 volt electric kitchen appliance. A thick wrapping of duct tape around and around that cardboard tube turned it into a robust fuck opening for the horniest of boys. I lined my prototype with a new gym sock, so it would cradle my penis in cushy softness while providing me with a snug opening to penetrate. I rolled the opening over the edge of the tube and held it in place with a ring of duct tape around the outside. Next, I just needed to mate that fuck sleeve with the carving knife in a way to maximize boy-pleasure while minimizing the risk of major blood loss and an embarrassing demise.
I'd noticed that the blades of the knife both had plastic flanges attached to the sides that served as a kind of hilt. It was a simple matter to wrap a strip of duct tape around one of those flanges, then attach the loose end to the tip of my cardboard dick sleeve with several wraps to secure it to the edge of the tube. This way, I could hold the knife like a sword in front of me with the cutting blades faced away from my body, with that little plastic flange pounding away on the reinforced edge of the dick sleeve. I was alone in the house, so it was time for the moment of truth. By the time I had everything ready, my hairless pride-and-joy was fully engorged and ready for a test run! I ran an extension cord to the outlet under my desk and plugged my new device into it. I pulled my shorts and underpants down to my ankles, then sat down on my chair. The new gym sock lining of the fuck sleeve was snug, but I managed to penetrate it fully. My throbbing stiffy was now cradled in snuggly, cottony-nylon softness and ready for launch. I checked one more time that the blades of the knife were pointing away from me in a non-lethal direction, held my breath and turned on the switch!
I wasn't prepared for the intensity of sensations my invention would provide! My boner was being pounded in a way that I'd never been able to achieve by manual, traditional means. I found that I could rotate the handle of the carving knife slightly and it would act on the dick sleeve to change the pressure points and frequency of vibration around my stiff weenie. My entire body would periodically shiver as I changed the positioning of the dick sleeve on myself. My legs stretched out before me and my back arched in the chair. I can't imagine how it would've looked, had someone walked in on me at that moment. I was totally in the zone, fighting to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head from the pleasure... I HAD to keep my eyes on those oscillating blades of death! I don't think I lasted for a minute under the pounding of my buzzing "Jak-Buddy-65." The urgency deep in my young loins came quickly and with a vengeance. Clench after clench of my boy-sex muscles caused my entire body to lurch in the chair. My dry boy-gasm was so intense that dick felt like it would swell up and burst from the vibrating, sock-lined fuck sleeve. The tender stage came on quickly and I frantically fumbled for the switch! Finally, silence. My room seemed the quietest it had ever been. My entire body tingled and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I thought, "Holy CRAP, what an invention!"
My pea-brain finally returned to normal function when I looked at my desk clock and realized that my alone time would be over in a few minutes. I peeled the tape from the carving knife, popped off the blades, slipped them into their plastic guard, then unplugged and coiled up the wire just as I'd found it. Everything went back in the box and I pulled up my pants and returned it to its place in the kitchen cabinet. Now the only other thing needed was to un-tape my used gym sock from the dick sleeve, then wad up the cardboard tube with the duct tape and trash it. I couldn't risk leaving that kind of evidence around. Besides, there was always a supply of toilet paper tubes and duct tape. Now that I'd perfected the design, I knew I could assemble everything, use it on my dick and climb my Mount Everest of boy-pleasure whenever I had a few minutes of privacy, and as it would turn out, I would do that many, many times.
After that day, I never sat down for Sunday dinner or a holiday turkey and felt quite the same way. There would me the heart of my "Jak-Buddy-65," slicing up perfect portions for our family, with its stainless steel blades making perfect cuts.
I've finally inherited that old carving knife. Decades later, I now use it only for the manufacturer's intended purpose. Neither me, nor that electric kitchen wonder are the worse for wear.
I'd pulled it off. I think I'd done my old hero Tom Swift proud.