Jay Kern

When I was a teenager, I found to my surprise and pleasure that being double-jointed had its fringe benefits. Long gone are those days of youthful sexual experimentation with my friend Donnie, but in my jerk-off fantasies I still recall vividly the first time I sucked myself off.

Being one of five brothers brought up on a farm in Iowa meant that the sight, smell, and sound of sex was an everyday reality. If it wasn’t a rooster humping a hen or our Angus thrusting his long, slippery red cock into a cow, it was one of my brothers pulling himself off under his sheet at night. I would lie there with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, and listen to his knuckles rustle the sheet with a steady, soft sound.

As his breathing increased, he would begin to moan. Then I would hear him spread his wet cum on his abdomen and sometimes beat off again. But usually, he’d just fall asleep.

When I reached puberty, I sometimes would secretly accompany him, and I would smear my cum over my own developing balls, thinking it somehow would help me to manufacture more of my ‘white stuff’ as I called it.

In my last year at high school, I was the star of the gymnastics team. I worked the pummel horse and high bar and was runner-up for the country championship. It had taken many hours of practice for me to succeed, and I also had to work double chores at home, but being the youngest and the smallest gave me special privileges.

I stood only five feet seven inches and weighed only 145 pounds -- in contrast to my over-six-foot brothers. They, however, were never interested in school, sports, or grades. They liked girls and farm work, in that order.

By the time I was a senior, they had all married and moved away. Two had farms of their own, and the other two worked in Davenport in farm supplies. They were all very proud of me, and everybody attended my meets to cheer me on. My starring in gymnastics only increased their pride in me as their alter ego.

My buddy Donnie was on the gymnastics team with me, and I sort of was his idol. We would spend long hours working out on the mats in the gym, showered together, and hiking home. He lived on the farm next to me but never did chores. His father owned the land my family worked on. We were, in fact, tenant farmers.

One day during the week before the state finals were to be held in Iowa City, Donnie and I practiced late in the gym. The coach and the others had gone home, but Donnie and I were perfecting our sets. I had just completed my pummels for the umpteenth time, and, sweaty and tired, I headed for the shower room. Donnie took his wet jersey and tossed it at me, hitting me in the back of the neck.

“What’s that for, you fucker?”

“No reason.” He trotted to my side and kiddingly pushed me through the door into the locker room. The room always smelled of sweaty jocks and high humidity and always gave me a pleasure rush. We went to our side-by-side lockers and pulled off our shorts, jocks, and sneakers.

I had seen Donnie bare-ass hundreds of times and he me, but tonight when I glanced down at him, something seemed different. There was some sort of electric tension between us. His cock was in a state of semi-arousal, its down-tapered six inches arching out from his blond thatch. “What’s this,” I asked, “a happy hard-on?” My fingers flicked at his pink head.