Why does the magazine seem, so I don't know… alluring or exciting in a sense? I'm not sure what I see in it. I guess I know how Carl uses his. I mean about ten minutes ago I pulled myself off to the pictures in the magazine, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I thought I would have felt… well… you know extra excited about doing it, but I didn't. Instead, I just masturbated; got sleepy and decided that was all I was going to do. I didn't even get the satisfaction feeling afterwards, no guilt… or shame. Funny right… Why did I feel like I was all for it when I was jerking off. The lack of desire to the continue such a sensation has dwindled or is it the material on the page that is off-putting?
At one point in time; it was exciting, but when I did it to Ross or Carl the other times, it felt so good nutting. Let's hope my mam never reads the colourful language I'm keeping locked up in this journal. It would be embarrassing for her to learn how I'm nutting and how the ejaculation was not as sensual as I was hoping for it to be. I can't figure out what is wrong with me. Can't I just like one or the other, is it really that hard to choose. You'd think that such a thing would be easier to pick. However, you have no idea how wrong I was. The concept is a burden on my shoulders, I'm hauling something heavy, and the worst part is I can't figure the fuck out what the hell I'm carrying. It would be easy to say yes: a pile of rocks are sitting on a rickety board, that is balanced on my head: that would explain the excess pressure, though no. It's invisible, and I guess that is the worse agony of all. My mind is so warped at present; I'm unsure if any of the feelings I'm experiencing about Ross is genuine. What if the girl thing and the porn magazine are not authentic either. Thirdly; if I'm not supposed to like either one or the other then what am I. Is it possible to fancy both… hmm…? Perhaps, but wouldn't that be weird.
Okay, let's move on from before I get too caught up in the observation of myself that everything around me turns into molten and melts. I guess the best part of today was that I got to spend time with Mr Cutie… you know Mr Wonderful, totally adorable, exceptionally huggable, beautifully put: Ross. It was just the two of us down at the castle, and it was all I needed to do today. The world could have been falling apart like the polar ice caps unearthing and plunder to the sea. A meteorite could have presumably fallen at thousands of kilometres per hour toward the earth or the most prominent carnage since Ms Williams first class: Maths period could have been unravelling a couple of clicks down the road, but all I cared about was sitting on that bank by the side of the lake with Ross. We had a little talk about how we would keep in touch if he were to go back to London. Which I guess was better than nothing at all. The best part of it all was that neither of us was emotional about it. There was an odd silence of course at the time, but the main thing is that we handled it maturely. I'm proud of that achievement. I am proud of Ross for not getting upset about it like he did the other times and me… well, I'm glad that I didn't feel so alone opening up about the possibility of him going away. The two of us bounced around ideas from mail, to actually visiting each other, I guess that would be kind of cool. I have never been to London before; I wonder what it would be like to see Big Ben or The House of Parliament for real. As quick as all the fun notions arose they subsided, and we carried on talking about ways to keep in contact; sadly, it all boiled down to the mail. Which when I think of it now is not as bad as it sounds considering its only England. I'd wait a day or two, max three for a letter to come from Ross. Yeah, it sure sucks when I write it in here. Though I think it marvellous considering the wait time if he lived in say China or America.
Anyway, soon after the conversation of remaining in touch, which we have no idea when that day will be but until then I'm determined to make the most of it. The both of us ended up holding hands. He held mine quite tightly actually. I took his hand as lightly as I could because I was afraid I'd squeeze his fingers too hard, and that is something I don't want to do is hurt him.
Eventually, the both of us resorted to measuring up each other's hands. It still baffles me that my hands are slightly bigger than Ross's. Except Ross started this playful light teasing about what they say about big hands and big feet, and enviably the two of us entered into a spontaneous hysteria of shrieking laughing. Ross was giggling so hard, and frantically I thought he was going to sputter up a lung. I couldn't help myself. He was too vulnerable, and I love him that I tickled him until his tummy hurt.
I can't believe how natural that sounded and without contemplation. I wrote: I love him. It's weird reading back the word to myself. It's almost as if they were written by someone else. The reason I know it is mine is because I witnessed my hand with my eyes write it. The word hasn't got the same meaning as it used to have. Love always seemed like a warm thing when I said it before. Yeah, that's it, anytime I heard what love is it was just a warm gut feeling I received. However now when I say it; it feels like someone has blown a balloon up in my chest. The sensation of it is so pleasant that it makes me feel like I want to keep taking a fresh breath because it is there in abundance.
Though yeah, I tickled Ross. He was squirming around; until I dropped my weight down on top of him so that I could get better leverage over him. I tell you this; for as small as Ross's stature maybe he is incredibly stronger than he looks. I dug my fingers under his armpits and traced then over his stomach and he kicked, gave guttural groans when he tried to heave himself up off the ground, but I still had him pinned. He wasn't getting away from me that easy. Ultimately, the two of us did a complete barrel roll, and I ended up on top of him. I could feel myself becoming aroused, but I don't think it mattered because the moment was so intense.
After a minute of struggling, the two of us came to a complete stop. I was on top of him. My face only centimetres from his; my heart hammering in my chest so hard that I thought I was going to throw up. Then I did it, I swooped my head low and kissed him on the lips, he smiled bashfully, but he continued to look up at me. Ross was half blinded by the sun; with one eye open; the other closed he grinned up at me.
Trying to favour him, I shifted some of my body weight so that my head would naturally act as a sun shield, that's when I felt his dick protruding. Even though I was erect, I could feel his spike poking into my groin region. For some unknown reason, it felt like a good idea to grind against him, and I did. I'm unsure if I did it right, but I rubbed myself against him, and his head just tilted back toward the castle.
Ross closed his eyes, and I pushed against him again. The only sounds in the vicinity were the buzz from close by bluebottles, grasshoppers and other such wildlife. The swoosh of water that trailed up on the bank from the lake added to the serene moment. I closed my eyes; nervous and unsure if I was taking things too far. It felt terrific to be grinding against him. It felt magic almost; it was like I was on the verge of cumming, but yet at the same time I wasn't even close. Everything around me fast-forward unrelenting or existing. The only thing I focused on was Ross solely; my dick pulsed him my shorts. The silky material added to the sensation. The entire moment intensified; I was getting somewhere. I became so fixated on his soft expression as I slowly dragged myself into him. The excitement was rising downstairs. I was enjoying what I was doing; he seemed to be too. Ross's eyes would flutter every so often to signal his pleasure then he ground against me.
I was instantly terrified; petrified. I hope I didn't do anything wrong; jeez why did I do it. I should have stopped the minute the two of us ended up on top of each other. I couldn't even do that right. Instead, I probably made things worse because when I panicked, I got uncomfortable. So, I rolled over and got off of Ross.
What did that mean when he pushed back? Did he like it? Did he want me to keep doing it? What would have happened If I carried on with the grinding motion? I'm so stupid; I can't determine what I have done is either worse or right in an immeasurable way. I hope he doesn't hate me for doing it tomorrow. What I did after I got off him sounds even more pathetic when I write it like this but… I sat on the edge of the banking playing with blades of grass. Until eventually Ross said, "It's getting late… You think we should go home to get dinner now." To which I just nodded in agreement, and the two of us cycled home, and even if you guessed it, the bike ride was unbearable. It was too quiet for me; I was going crazy just peddling beside him. I was disappointed, I should have done more, or at least asked something, though how do you ask if someone like's what you're doing. Then again, I don't want to think of it in case I was terrible at doing what I was doing. Well, night I guess… - Adam.
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