When Dauntless Doug, single-handed, brought the Japs to their knees and waded ashore in Tokyo Bay, the war was over.
Now it was spring 1946. I was discharged from the Army Air Corps and a member in good standing of the 52-20 club, a program that paid vets twenty dollars a week for a year if they couldn't find employment. There were jobs around in our small town of four thousand people but I had the brilliant ideas about writing a novel before I settled down to the old grind.
I got into the habit of walking the five blocks up town to a nice little bar where I inbibed in a few beers, chatted with the lady behind the bar, then came home. I usually went up to the little den I had fixed up in the room behind my bed room. Here I had my books, an old easy chair and a desk to hold my one luxury, a Smith Corona, portable typewriter.
Usually arriving home frustrated, mildly inebriated, and horny, I dropped my pants and settled myself in that old reclining chair with the broad arms to exercize my Mr. Happy until he spurted. Then I went down to supper.
This afternoon, as happened at least twice a week, old Min Trout had stopped by to play Canasta with Aunt. I teased around with old Min for a few minutes, promising to smack her butt on her birthday, next month. Then I went up stairs to play pal to my perky pecker.
Below, I heard the murmur of voices from the women playing cards in the kitchen. Their voices wafted up through the register that looked down on them. I kicked off my shoes, crossed to my chair, shoved down my pants and shorts to free my stiff cock. It stood throbbing and bobbing toward my navel. I sat on the cool leather which caressed my warm ass cheeks. I lay back and hooked one leg over each arm to spread them wide.
Now, there was no hurry. I reached down and found an old copy of Sunshine and Health I had hidden among other magazines and found the full page picture of my favorite naked lady, a thin older woman with a fabulously hairy bush. It amazed me that that little woman could sprout so much foliage down there. My staff throbbed to full attention. Both hands moved to my crotch. The fingers of my left hand cupped and caressed my balls. I shivered and cradled then gently. Sometimes, if I was patient, I could come just from gently manipulating my hairy balls and never stroke the shaft at all.
I was so wrapped up in what I was doing I tuned out what was going on below. While I heard Min's loud voice, I was too involved in my own fantasy and feeling too good manipulating my testicals to listen to what she was saying. I was having a few imaginative thoughts of my own about old Min that had nothing to with the card game going on below.
I fantasised about all the curly hair, probably gray, she hid between those scrawny thighs. I imaginged plain, long drawers down to her knees and pale ass cheeks that had never seen the sun. Old Min Trout was old when I first saw her seventeen years ago. Though her face was lined with wrinkles and she appeared to be skinny as a rail beneath her long, baggy skirts that only disclosed thin ankles hidden beneath cotton stockings. Now, in my mind, there were no clothes, no thin ankles, no wrinkles. I concentrated on a full thatch of crinkly hair I could only imagine. I pictured my hand between old Min's legs and ticking her dripping pussy, perhaps the middle finger pluming her ancient depths.
My excitement grew as I stroked my veined cock rising magestically agains my belly . I was lost in my world of hand fuck, making believe Min was eager to service a young man like me. My hand slid up and down my joint, moving the foreskin up and over the swollen, purplish-red crown,then quickly retracting it. Jerking off is aptly named. Jerking off is the most fun any man or boy can create by himself. I was in my own time zone, my own world of fisting. Finally, I could postpone the crisis no longer. I speeded my stroke. My hand became a blur. I felt it start somewhere behind my clenched ass hole. My legs stiffened, my butt, without volition, rose from the sweaty leather seat and my body arched, straining and suspended, between shoulders and legs on the chair arms. My throbbing cock pointed skyward.
My eyes closed tight for the last few strokes as I imagined old Min begging for more. I squeezed my bursting cock in both hands and pounded my top fist against the lower one. God! It was so good I could barely stand it. My labored breathing rasped faster.
My scrotum tightened. My balls tightened and rose until they almost disappeared up into my body. I tensed, strained, froze.
The first spurt landed high on my chest. The second hit just above my navel. I spurted slick, white stuff until a glistening pool formed on around the top of my encircling fist.
I counted the throbs under my breath. ONE. . . TWO . . . THREE. . . FOUR . . .FIVE. I had reached SIX when I heard a startled gasp. Aunt stood in the doorway, a cupped hand at her open mouth, eyes watching my throbing seven inches spurt my life force from the slit in the purplish head.
My legs slipped from the chair arms. I tried to cover my diminishing erection with my hands.
It was a loud whisper, but Aunt spat it out, "Filthy boy!" She turned and left.
Moments later I heard her footsteps descending the stairs.
My heart thundered in my chest. I fought for breath. To my shattering climax was added the shock of being discovered. Aunt would call it self abuse. I cleaned up the mess on my hand and on my belly and pulled up my pants. I sat a while trying to collect my wits.. I had no Idea what Aunt would say when I went downstairs. To my knowledge, she had not seen me naked since I had entered puberty. I had spied on her once when I was nine or ten when she was about to climb into the bathtub. I knew she had a thick patch of light brown hair down there and what, at the time, I thought were tremendously large buttocks and thick, pale white thighs. She would have beaten me to within an inch of my life had she known I had seen her. Aunt was a terrible prude when it came to nudity.
Though I was now an adult, a veteran home from the war, I dreaded going downstairs to face her.
Aunt was busily, too busily, placing food on the table. She wiped at her eyes and did not speak.
"You should not have walked in on me," I said. "I am entitled to my privacy."
"I never realized. . ." Her voice choked. "I didn't think my boy would do such a nasty thing in this house."
"Most people do it."
"The terrible things you learned in the army. They took my innoceent boy and. . ." She set the mashed potatoes on the table and threw up her hands in an effort to say what she could not say.
"It's not something I learned in the army."
"You're like a different person." Her shoulders sagged. "I never thought you would turn out like this."
"I damn sure never learned anything about sex in this house, at least not from you."
"Your supper is getting cold." Aunt sat at the table and I pulled out the chair oposite her. We did not say grace. We never did.
"It happened. It's over," I said.
"I'll never go near that room again, I promise." Aunt's voice quivered.
"Good."
We ate in silence.
Later I quietly dried while she washed the dishes amid a deafening stillness.
As she passed me, leaving the kitchen, I gave her a smack on her fat butt as I occasionally did to tease her because I knew she did not care for the familiarity. She stopped dead in her tracks, for a moment as though she were going to say something, but she moved on, through the living room and went up the steps to her room though it was barely eight o'clock.
*** There remained a coolness between us. The next few days I kept my pecker in my pants. But there came a day when nature gave me a hard-on that would not go away. I came home from the bar with a few beers under my belt. Went directly to my room and did the dirty deed with dispatch although the image of old Min's hairy crotch filled my fantasy as I throbbed out a self-induced ecstasy.
Downstairs, Aunt and Old Min semed busier gossiping than playing Canasta. Min's raspy voice and Aunt's softer one drifted up through the venilator.
"Now don't be getting yourself in a dither," cautioned Min "He was just doing what comes natural.
"He was doing nasty things to himself," breathed Aunt.
"You caught the boy doodling his dick." hooted Min. "That's all."
"Abusing himself," corrected Aunt. "I never called it what you just said. I said he was was doing nasty things with his member." said Aunt.
"Jack was pulling, his pud," giggled Min. "That's what he was doing."
"It ain't natural," said Aunt. "Not to mention being a dirty, filthy act against nature."
"The boy was just playing a few scales on his meat flute," giggled Min. "Men get them hard feelings and they got to do what comes natural."
"Nasty is what it was," said Aunt.
" Sheeit," cackled Min, "I reckon we've all tickled ours a time or two."
"Well I'm sure I never. . ."
"Of course you never, Hon," soothed Min as she licked her lips.
"I can't help getting upset. Seeing him practically naked, and doing that to himself."
"Jack was a doing what comes natural. A man has got that thang a danging tween his legs, sometimes it gets upity and rambunctious. He's got to take a hand to it ."
"So nasty," said Aunt.
"Now don't be too hard on the boy," cautioned Min, trying to soothe Aunt's feelings. "Jack was just being Jack."
"His thing was so big and angry looking," said Aunt.
"Never found one to look that way," said Min. "I always took a hard one as a compliment."
"Nasty as it was," confessed Aunt, "I swear I couldn't look away. Like I was hypnotized. Does that make me a sinner?"
"Whooee" exhaled Min. "I'd a give anything to have seen what you seen."
