Hiding The Cum Every Mans Problem

A problem began for me as soon as I discovered the pleasures of the solitary vice. Since I couldn't make a deposit into nature's intended receptacle, what should I do with the stuff? It was sticky, it smelled, and it made wet spots on just about everything. Toilet paper (T.P.) provided the initial solution.

I'd sneak small piles of T.P. into my room and hide them. Then, while ogling Sheena of the Jungle comics (my favorite, since she wore a white bikini while romping through the forest!), or Archie's Betty and Veronica (why this nerd had two babes chasing after him I didn't know, but it gave me hope!), I'd drop my pants and rub my weenie until I got the desired result. As soon as the coast was clear I'd sneak the wad of sticky T.P. down to the bathroom, and flush away the evidence.

I assumed that it would be much less messy when I could actually leave the entire ejaculate inside some girl's cavern of mystery, but somehow I didn't pick up on two important facts: One, that a properly-stimulated woman produces enough pussy juice to drown a cat, and Two, that most cum that a guy works so hard putting in will come leaking out of the woman anyway. I must have missed the sex education lecture concerning the infamous "wet spot."

Of course the sex act itself puzzled me greatly at that young age. It was described in my sex education book as, "The man and woman lie outward to one another." I realized that the penis had to go into the vagina (wherever that was), but precisely how that was to be accomplished was left more than a little vague. Apparently "outward" was one of those words that would become clear as I grew older. But I knew I needed practical experience if I were ever to figure out how to dispose of my spunk as nature intended. I was certainly sending it "outward" but I didn't think that's how it worked with "real" sex.

I puzzled about these matters for a couple of years. Seeking a solution, I joined a church youth group because the girl in my class with the biggest jugs was already a member. I hoped that leering at her kazobies would provide an answer. My parents thought I'd found religion! So the summer after high school, they sent me to a Christian summer camp intended to prepare students heading to college with the appropriate moral attitudes. Bless them! My experiences there helped answer the BIG QUESTION: What do you do with this stuff when you're done?

There were 32 boys and 32 girls at the camp, all of us eighteen except for a couple of kids whose eighteenth birthdays we celebrated during the first week. They were from all over the state, and I didn't know anyone. There were four boys' and four girls' cabins, each with a counselor (a college student). Each cabin had a single bed for the counselor and four bunk beds for the campers. The cabins were strategically placed so that the boys' and girls' cabins were separated by about 100 yards of lighted, open ground. We were supposedly attending the camp to learn about religious issues in college while also enjoying the out-of-doors. Almost everyone REALLY wanted to learn more about the opposite sex.

Six of us in my cabin were first-timers at the camp. Scott and Dave had been there the year before, and they filled us in on all of the important details. Among them was the vitally important fact that the counselors had a meeting every evening starting at 9:30 (a half-hour after lights out) and lasting for an hour or so. That meant we could do all sorts of evil things while we were completely unsupervised. As I later learned from a friend who had actually been a counselor at this camp, if I'd just had the good sense to go spy on the counselors during their "meetings" I would not have remained so ignorant about sex!

The first night we all pretended to be asleep and our counselor left promptly at 9:25. Scott and Dave broke out the flashlights. "Who wants to do a circle jerk?" Dave asked. Since we had absolutely no idea what that was, we naturally all agreed.

Scott put a small plate on the floor, and laid a saltine cracker in the middle. (Why a saltine? Why not an Oreo or something? I never asked and I never found out.) We all stood naked in a circle around the plate and jerked off together. The last one to hit the cracker had to eat it - along with all the cum that ended up on the plate. So eight naked boys began to furiously beat off, probably for the first time in public for most of us.

I was one of the first to shoot my wad, but my habit of doing it into a handful of T.P. had deprived me of one vitally important skill in this game: aiming. I overshot the plate with my first wad, hitting the feet of the boy opposite me. Then my subsequent wads fell well short of the plate. My hot dog went limp. I was still trying to pump life into it when the last of the other boys hit the cracker. Everyone laughed and pointed at me, standing helplessly holding my useless, flaccid dingus.

I got down on my hands and knees and scraped up about a quarter cup of cum with the cracker, and I slurped it down. I was afraid I would throw up, but it didn't taste all that bad. Then I use a cloth to clean up the floor - and the one guy's feet. We were back in bed before the counselor got back, and I had discovered something new: cum didn't taste bad at all. Even the aftertaste was interesting!

Our cabin was "buddies" with one of the girls' cabins for our daily chores, and the next day I had eight girls giggling about my losing the circle jerk. Somebody (probably Dave or Scott) had clearly filled them in on all of the wonderfully un-Christian details. I endured a couple of days of blushing and giggling girls every time one of them looked at me. The counselors never did figure out why my licking my lips would send these eight girls into peals of giddy laughter!

Spending each day with nubile young females didn't calm us down, and we did circle jerks nearly every night. I lost most of them, even though I produced more cum than most of the other guys. My ability to produce and consume cum soon became the talk of the eight girls in our buddy cabin, thanks again to Scott and Dave.

During the meals the counselors would lead us in prayer, thanking God for our food and praying for a variety of good things. I always prayed that I could see one of the girls naked. I was afraid that God didn't hear, but I kept praying anyway. Pray for world Peace? Nah! I wanted to see some real pussy!

About a week after the first circle jerk, two of the girls got me away from everyone else. Beckie and Jennie whispered that they wanted to see me "do it." "Do what?" I dumbly asked.

"You know!" Said Beckie. "Umh, like you do with the crackers, uuuh . . ."

"We want to watch you jack off!" Jennie whispered.

Apparently girls were as curious about sex as boys were. Wasn't that good news? I had assumed that these eighteen-year-old girls knew more than I did, but they, too, had been brought up in carefully-supervised homes. But I told them that I didn't see how we could do that at camp with the counselors watching us all the time. The girls had figured that one out: We could go off together to gather wood for the evening fire. There was a rocky hillside in the woods, and if we climbed to the top, we would be completely alone, and we could hear anyone coming up in plenty of time to avoid being caught.

"Well, what's in it for me?" I asked. "You get to see me naked and playing with myself. What do I get?"

The girls whispered together and giggled. They looked at me and giggled and whispered some more. They turned to me with big grins on their faces. "We'll take off all our clothes too, and you can feel our tits!" Jennie said with a dark red blush on her face.

I'd have settled for fondling their breasts through their clothes, so this was a terrific arrangement! I quickly agreed. "We got to see you eat it too, right?" Beckie said. I eagerly bobbed my head up and down. I was too excited to talk! I was actually going to see some naked girls and feel some tit! All I had to do was beat off and slurp up my cum! What a deal!

Less than an hour later, the girls volunteered to gather firewood, and they took me along to help. We rapidly put together a pile of wood near the base of the hillside, and we climbed to the top as quickly as we could. We immediately undressed, taking off everything above our waists and dropping our lower garments to our ankles. I had a huge - well huge for that age! - erection, and no wonder. The two girls had perky breasts and nipples, and their pubic snatches were dark and kinky, hiding their great caves of both mystery and wondrous pleasure somewhere "down there."

I felt light-headed. Each girl came close to me and I was allowed to touch her nipples. I almost lost it! The girls' faces got red and their nipples stood up and poked out! Wow! They were staring at my penis. "Is that all?" Beckie asked. She was still looking at my penis and I had that "She thinks I'm too small!" worry that guys get sometimes.

I looked down and a little drop of stuff had come out of the hole at the end of my penis. Whew! Beckie had been asking about quantity, not size! "No, wait until I rub my magic wand!" I said. That's when we realized we didn't have any crackers.

"I'll do it into your hands and then lick it off your fingers!" I said. They giggled and stood in front of me, each making a cup of her hands, Beckie leaning in from the right, Jennie from the left. I began to beat my meat, looking back and forth at the girls' wondrously fascinating naked bodies.

It probably took about ten seconds. My aim had improved, thanks to deliberately losing all those games of circle jerk, and I put the first wad directly into Jennie's hands. She jumped back holding her handful of treasure, and I managed to get some into Beckie's hands, too. But she also stepped back, and I must have shot seven or eight more times onto the ground between them. Ah to be eighteen again!

They just stood there staring open-mouthed, each girl cupping a pool of my cum in her hands. My penis quickly deflated to a minuscule size as the girls stared at it. I pulled up my pants. No guy wants his flaccid penis on display!

The two naked girls just stood there looking at the mess in their hands. I began to lick everything from Jennie's fingers. I sucked each one. I did the same thing for Beckie. Then we scrambled to get dressed.

They pulled up their shorts, and got their bras and shirts on, and we scrambled down the hillside, picked up our wood, and headed back to the camp. None of us said a word the entire time. Beckie and Jennie kept looking at each other and giggling in that way that only girls can do. I heard them say "Magic Wand!" several times.

Several days later they arranged for us to do it again. I negotiated a slightly better deal. I got to undress them both, and they would undress me. I may have been ignorant about sex, but I wasn't completely stupid! They wanted something from me, and well, I thought it only fair that I get something in return.

This time when we got to the top of the hillside, they took everything off me - shoes, socks - the works. They giggled as I walked uncomfortably on the rocks, my weenie sticking straight out. I pulled off their clothing amid a lot of groping and laughing. Each of them felt my penis and balls. I was in heaven!

Finally all they had on were their bras. I moved behind Beckie, and undid the fastener. Then I reached around her and cupped her breasts in my hands. My hard little weenie touched her behind. I felt her nipples get hard, and she quickly stepped away from me. I held onto her bra. Before I dropped it on top of her other clothes, I looked at it. 32B.

Jennie let me do the same thing to her. She was a 32C. I had my first empirical data about breast sizes! For several years thereafter I could cup my hands and tell my friends, "This is how big a B is, and this is a C!"

Unfortunately having had them touch me, and my having touched their breasts and my having bumped my penis into their behinds proved too much for me. Before Jennie had taken two steps, I dropped her bra, groaned, and began to ejaculate. I caught the first rope of cum in my own hands, and Beckie caught the next couple in hers. Jennie got plenty, too. I just kept shooting more and more. This time they kept their hands ready, and I alternated between them, trying to keep the amounts about the same. Fun!

There we stood. Naked. Cupping our hands like we were waiting for communion wafers. Each holding a mound of thick, smelly cum. Surely God had answered my prayers!

I lapped mine up, then licked my fingers clean. "Why don't you try it?" I suggested.

They looked at each other and blushed. Obviously they had talked about doing this! Then they each began to lick their hands. Each girl licked up every drop she held. They appeared to be fascinated by the taste and texture. I was just getting up the nerve to try to kiss them (Naked! Wow!) when from fairly close by we heard, "Hey! Where's that firewood?"

We quickly got our clothes on and scrambled back down the hillside. Each girl had an odd smell, both slightly pungent and very powerful. I felt my penis getting stiff in my pants as their scents invaded my nasal passages. It was a long time before I realized I had smelled their young, aroused pussies.

We had just picked up our piles of firewood when one of the counselors spotted us. "C'mon! We need that wood!" We followed him back to the camp. Our stay at camp ended only two days later and we all went home, depriving me of additional opportunities to learn more about girls. But I had learned an important fact regarding the disposal of cum: You could swallow it!

Something else I learned was that some - Most? Many? - good-looking women will strut around in the nude, particularly if there's a male watching! As I will relate later, this fact provided me the opportunity to explore the other fact - in quantity!

Unfortunately I didn't immediately put either of these lessons to good use. For the next couple of months I tried hard to see another naked woman and feel her tits, but I almost always came up short. I came home from dates with smelly wet stains in my pants (which I had a devil of a time hiding from my mother!). I wacked off in the shower, washing away the evidence. Or I tickled the sausage into toilet paper as I had done before. I was no closer to putting the stuff into nature's intended target.

The first time I finally got laid, I though I'd solved the problem. But sure enough the "wet spot" that nobody had told me about proved me wrong! I learned really fast that you needed to have a small towel handy or the combination of cum and pussy juice was going to leave an obvious reminder in your (or her) bed when you were done. Apparently nature intended guys to leave our sperm all over everything. Maybe that's what "outward" really meant: We put it into the right place, but look where it ends up!

The first time a woman sucked me off. I thought I was in heaven (of course!). She swallowed everything I produced and licked my penis clean, too. But I still didn't see how that pertained to my original problem. I guess I was really slow! Besides I usually ended up by shooting some cum into her other end, so the wet spot problem remained, and that was foremost on my mind.

When I went to college, I found lots of hints about the proper disposal method for this stuff. Our usual intended repositories were our dates' mouths or tunnels of love. We concocted numerous ways to get this accomplished. One of our best ways was a fraternity game played during beer busts, far away from of civilization. It was called "Cream of Meat."

After everyone was thoroughly lubricated with beer, we would stand around a fire and begin chanting "Cream of Meat! Cream of Meat!" and one of our dates would strip naked and sit cross-legged on the ground, holding an eight-ounce drinking glass against her bare breasts, with the lip of the glass just below her chin. We guys then undressed and beat off into the glass, slowing filling it with our cream. The guy who added enough cum to raise the cream level in the glass to a designated mark near the top had to either drink the entire glass or get his date (if he had one) to help him do it. "Yum!" was not the anticipated response!

The naked guys lined up and took turns beating off in front of the lucky naked woman who was the "Holder of the Jerked Jism." Each time it was a guy's turn, his first spurt had to be into the glass, but after that he could either shoot his cum into the glass or into the Holder's mouth. (Good Holders held their mouths wide open, with their tongues touching the edge of the glass.) It usually took at least an hour and usually two or more turns by each guy to fill the glass. Most of the time we just stood around naked, drinking beer and stroking our dongs, waiting our turns. Some of the guys had bad aim (Hah!) and watching cum drip down the Holder's naked breasts was also a treat.

Holders selected themselves, and were usually women who had previously watched the game and its aftermath. They volunteered knowing they would require the services several of us, serially or together, before the night was done. There were always several volunteers, with the Holder the first woman (of several) to remove all her clothes and seize the glass. Happily most of the women who tried but failed to become the Holder would remain naked, too. As I said, we were far from civilization!

The Holders would always become wantonly aroused, which was, of course, the main object for playing! Any women would probably become completely sex-crazed after sitting fully exposed for an hour in front of a group of naked men who held their penises an inch in front of her lips, ejaculated into the glass, onto her breasts, and into her mouth! A Holder usually swallowed at least as much cum as ended up in the glass, and she spent the entire hour or more tasting cum, feeling it on her breasts, and smelling it as the odor wafted up from the glass.

But there was still the glass of cum which the loser had to consume. I "lost" at one party, and I talked my date into drinking half of the glass. I drank the first half of the delicious, warm, streaked, multicolored, gooey, slimy juice. She drank the rest slowly, swirling it around in her mouth, clearly savoring the texture and taste. She held the glass up, letting every last drop fall into her mouth as two dozen naked men cheered. She had a really strange look on her face when she finished, and we spend the rest of the party just outside the light of the fire trying to see how much more cum I could put into her slippery pocket of pleasure. Who needs Spanish Fly?

One would think that I would have stumbled upon the obvious solution much sooner, given all the evidence I had accumulated. But I was twenty-one before I really found the answer.

One evening I took a shortcut through the campus woods, heading home after a frustrating evening of failing to get inside the panties of my current lust-interest. I had a hard-on, my balls were sore, and I was eager to get to a bathroom so that I could use the inevitable wad of T.P. to catch the result of relieving my sexual tension.

I heard a woman cry out, and I stopped in my tracks. Several seconds later I heard, "OH! YES! OH! OH! OH! OOOOOOOH!" I crept stealthily toward the source of this wonderful sound, and within a minute it was repeated. "OH! OH! OOOOOOOOOH!" Maybe she needed help!

Ahead I could faintly see movement in the partial moonlight, and I moved closer very slowly. Then I heard a familiar, wet, smacking sound. Again she screamed. "OH! GOD! AAAAAAH!" I moved forward another few yards, and I could see three people clearly. In the middle of a small clearing was a naked goddess, impaled upright upon the penises of two men who were sitting on a blanket, their legs intertwined beneath her. She was twisting and bouncing on both shafts as they thrust themselves upward into her.