On a much more recent visit to Day Thermos I was wandering around wearing my blue towel when I encountered a dark region I hadn’t visited before. It was like a vision of Hades with bulging figures looming out of the shadows. I found my way into a room that that had a huge round bed-like structure covered in white plastic. Vague shapes shifted in the gloom. I was feeling pretty horny so I divested myself of my towel, lay back on the bed and waited to see what would eventuate. Sure enough I soon felt a flicker of rubber on the end of my cock and a tall, wavy haired young man was impaling himself on my shaft. I spurted fairly quickly and my cock slid out of the young man’s arse. I asked him his name – “Rafael”. My God, I’ve always wanted to fuck someone called Rafael. I headed for the showers and in a fairly abashed manner had to explain to a couple of Malay boys that I had just released my load.
I spent an hour or so downstairs on one of the complementary on-line computers checking and answering e-mails. A drink of coffee at the bar and I felt things “down there” stirring again. My God… perhaps it had something to do with the special ambiance of Day Thermos because it usually takes me twenty four hours to recover and re-fill the tanks.
I then headed upstairs again into the darkened corridors and play areas and came across the two young Malay boys from the showers. They’d joined a bunch of slightly older guys and were just starting off a circle wank. One of the lads gave me a wave, making it clear I was welcome to join in. Most gay men and particularly habituates of gay saunas won’t need me to explain the circle wank. But for the benefit of any straight lads who may be exploring these pages…
For a circle wank all the boys stand in a circle (obviously… duh). There should be some light because it’s hotter if you can see what everyone else is doing. Everyone is naked, no towels. Instead of grabbing your own cock you take hold of the weapon of the boy on your right and he in turn grabs the cock of the guy on his right. And so it goes on round the circle… the more the merrier… until the boy on your left takes hold of your cock. And so the wanking begins. There’s a kind of mysterious silent communication between the lads and this sets the pace… slower or faster… shorter or longer strokes. In this kind of revved up hothouse atmosphere it won’t be very long before some of the boys start spurting into the centre of the circle. I’ve been involved in circle wanks where there are awards – perhaps for the boy who cums first or for the guy who manages to hold out longest.
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 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 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.