ALMOST BY ACCIDENT

by ONE-TOSS-A-DAY How innocent can a ten-year-old boy be? At that age I was not exactly dumb, but I didn´t know much, either. This is how I found out. My older brothers had once shown me - I must've been about seven then - how they made their peter bigger and stiff by touching it with their index finger and flopping it around for a bit. I halfheartedly joined in their funny little play, but must have picked up on the naughtiness as well, because I didn't try it any further at that time. I still wanted to be a good boy… I also was a very skinny boy. When I was ten, the family doctor had advised my mother to send me to an extra gym class in order to get a bit stronger and bigger. I hated every minute of it, although I do remember secretly admiring the few really handsome and well-built boys, who - unlike me - could do every exercise with grace and agility. Of course, I wanted to be more like these boys and knew that something had to be done about it. So at home, in the privacy of my own room, I started to do some simple exercises. I did push-ups and sit-ups on the floor, but became bored by these and started looking for a more sophisticated apparatus to use. I soon tried the door to my room: when I stood on a stool, I could reach and grip the top of it and pull myself up, thus exercising my biceps and shoulders. But my little hands hurt as hell doing this… And then I discovered another method: the wooden railing of the horizontal part of the staircase was easier to grip. So if I positioned myself with one leg to the left side of a baluster and one leg to the right, I was able to pull myself up without hurting myself. And as a bonus - and to my surprise - it gave me a nice and funny feeling in my upper thighs as well! Soon I started doing this as often as I could, increasing the sensation between my legs by rubbing my now stiff peter against the baluster and doing as many repetitions as I could. At first I was fully clothed, but as I got hot and sweaty doing this, I went a step further: Making sure nobody saw me, I took off my shirt and trousers, leaving only my white jockeys on. And then one day it happened: After doing perhaps eight or ten pull-ups like this I started to tingle all over, fingers, arms and shoulders numb with exhaustion, gasping for breath, dizzy with the wonderful sensations overcoming me and … suddenly feeling something wet and sticky in my underpants! I did not understand what had happened to me: Had I been peeing my pants? Was this a normal thing to happen? Had I taken things a bit too far? Rushing back into my room, I took a look at the wetness inside my jockeys. It didn't seem like piss, because it wasn't yellow at all. It smelled really strange, unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. And after putting my cloths back on and letting my underpants get dry for a while, the spot turned course and starchy, unlike a piss stain. Being from a protestant family, I did feel some guilt: Was I getting ill, or had it all just been a forgiveable accident? The next day, I simply had to find out and try again. So I took hold of the railing once more, baluster tight between my legs, and started doing my "exercises", this time paying more attention to what was happening to my crotch. But now, perhaps due to my feverish anticipation, I only needed a few repetitions to get the tingling sensation between my legs and feel the sticky fluid ooze out of my stiffy. This was easier than I thought it would be, and so much fun as well! The guilt and the problem of the bigger and bigger stains in my underpants did worry me, but of course the wonderful and new sensations took the better of me. Soon, I was "exercising" once or twice a day, finding ways to increase the intensity of the feeling and turn the somewhat involuntary oozing into even more exciting and powerful spurts: bang bang bang, at least three or four times, holding still against the baluster and no longer able to count the contractions in my loins. After a few weeks of this, I invented an even more efficient method to reach my goal: lying on my bed or on the floor, I now would take my stiff dick in my hand and rub it as fast as I could until I felt the familiar tingle in my crotch, then let go and wait for the first spurts to shoot from my throbbing member, feeling the hot fluid hit my belly. This invention has developed into a lifelong habit of at least one toss a day…