Two Sides To Every Story

"Ahh, Tom? You know I went to see the Moral Hygiene Coordinator yesterday?"

I just nodded, waiting.

"It's pretty serious. It isn't a matter of willpower Tom, I asked her if I could just make you promise to stop masturbating and she said no. She said it's not your fault. Children with a masturbation problem always promise they will stop, but they can't. Not for very long. Not without help."

"That's what I'm going to do Tom, help you give up masturbating."

"How?" was all I could get out.

"She said we could give you hormone treatments but it's very expensive. I don't think we could afford it. And there are side-effects, it makes your breasts grow, stuff like that. Anyway, it doesn't always work."

"What it comes down to Tom, is this." She reached forward and rested the palm of her hand on my crotch. "This thing" she hesitated and looked me straight in the eye, "your penis. Unless I do something about it, you will masturbate with it. It's just for hygiene Tom", she half apologized, "you know as well as I do that half the boys at school have circumcision or castration. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"You're going to cut my balls off?"

"No. I don't think so. It wouldn't be fair to you. It's not your fault you feel the urge to masturbate."

She went on, explaining that I might want to have children one day and that if she castrated me I couldn't be a father - as if that wasn't obvious.

"So, really, I have to cut your penis off, or maybe circumcise it. That's why I need you to masturbate for me. So I can tell."

The instruction book was too detailed and confusing, but it was quite clear on one thing: circumcising Tom would only work if he masturbated using his foreskin. It said that boys masturbate two different ways. Some roll their skin back and forwards over the head of their penises. They could be helped by a good, tight circumcision. Other boys rubbed their hands on the skin of the penis directly, as if they were already circumcised, and circumcising them didn't make all that much difference. I had trouble understanding at first. I'd always thought a circumcised boy couldn't masturbate - but now I realized I was wrong.

If Tom was a roll-the-skin masturbator, then cutting off his foreskin would break the habit. In theory, he could still masturbate afterwards but it wasn't likely as it said he'd have to learn a whole new way to do it. But if he was a rub-the-penis boy, then circumcision might have shock value but he'd go straight back to it the same as before. The book said it wouldn't feel as good for him, because his most sensitive foreskin tissue would be circumcised away, but chances were he'd do it again, sooner or later, and if he got found out, he'd get expelled from school. I couldn't risk it. He was my responsibility now, and I had to make the right decision.

Last night I'd read that you couldn't tell just by looking at the boy's penis. They said that boys with longer foreskins usually did it the rolling way, but not always, and - how was it they'd put it - something about 'only by observing the masturbatory action in a natural setting'. I knew what I had to do.

It was so disgusting, the thought of actually watching a boy do that to himself, but I've always made a point of never shirking on a duty. And, well ... I guess I felt some weird kind of excitement about it too. Sort of like stage fright, only different. Sooner or later I had to do it. It might as well be now.

I blurted out "Tom, I want you to masturbate for me."

He was shocked and just sat there looking at me. Now I was started there was no going back.

"I need to see you masturbate, Tom. I want you to take off your pants and play with your penis."

He still just sat there. This wasn't going to work. He thought it was some kind of trap, that I was trying to trick him into doing it so I'd have an excuse for punishing him. I stood up, walked around for a moment, wondering what to do.

"OK Tom, you don't have to do it right now. We'll talk about it later."

I had the germ of an idea, and there was no hurry. Any time in the next few days. School didn't go back for a couple of weeks yet. I left him alone for a while and went into the kitchen, started preparing the evening meal. An hour or so later, he checked in with me to see what time dinner was going to be and said he was going to take a shower.

I had it all planned out now. I turned the gas burners down to a simmer and gave him long enough to get undressed, waited till I heard the water running, waited a little longer. About four or five minutes should do it, I thought.

I was in pretty big trouble.

I tried to take my mind of it, switched the TV on for a while, but I kept thinking about the way Monica had touched my sex. I couldn't help getting horny again. It felt like I'd had a constant half-erection for the last two days, and there was nothing I could do about it, not with Monica around. It was way too early to go to bed and the only other place I could get some privacy was ... yeah ... that should work. Monica was going to be busy in the kitchen for a while yet. I went to the bathroom.

I got into the shower, splashed some soap and water around for the look of things, and at last I could touch my cock without her seeing. It was getting bigger all the time now as my puberty kicked in. It just felt so good to hold it, stroke it, stretch my foreskin back and forwards. I closed my eyes and pictured Monica at her desk last night, the way she'd thrust her hand down between her legs to knead her woman-flesh. I stroked myself luxuriously, slippery-wet cock under the shower. Almost unconsciously, I silently mimicked the way she'd moaned at the finish - she'd obviously had some kind of fantasy about castrating me and got off on it. I could tell by the way she -

Something made me flick my eyes open and - Oh my God! - there was someone in the room! I could see the bathroom door was open through the glass of the shower cubicle, see the frosted shape of Monica coming in.

"It's only me, Tom: she said, "I have to pee. You don't mind do you?"

That's one of the things about a small house. The toilet is in the bathroom and if someone's in the shower when you have to go, well, you just have to go. It wasn't the first time. Usually she'd knock. Maybe she had knocked and I hadn't heard.

I stood still and grunted something, tried to look normal. She must be able to she me, through the streaky, steam-covered glass, about as well as I could see her looking back the other way. Oh God! What if she'd seen what I was doing? I couldn't turn around because she'd see my erection sticking out. It might not show like this, against my skin. I had to stand there facing her until it shrank enough to turn my back without it showing.

I stood there waiting, somehow contriving to keep one arm or the other covering my sex while I made a show of washing. But I couldn't help watching through the steamy glass as she unbuttoned her off-white denim shorts and pulled her panties down.

It seemed to take forever as she dropped them to her ankles. She was fuzzy through the steamy glass but I couldn't miss the small, mousy-brown patch of pubic hair against her pale white-pink skin. I wished I could see more clearly at the same time that I wished the steam was thick enough to hide more of my guilty secret. Then she sat, and there was pink below.

Oh God! I was looking at her piss-flesh! My sister's cunt! There was no way my erection was going down now.

He was smart enough to play it cool though, and we both pretended that I hadn't seen it. So I teased him, slowly pulled my knickers down in front of him like that was really the way I usually peed. (Only a boy would have fallen for it - any girl over six knows how to sit and pull her knickers down and piss all in one smooth, swift motion if she wants to.)

Even through the glass I could see that his penis was erect. He kept putting his hands in front of it, trying to hide it from me. So I made it worse for him, spread my legs apart, and let him try to see my pussy through the glass.

I peed and suddenly felt different, embarrassed to be doing this in front of him, with him watching. I knew he couldn't see much through the glass, but I was glad he had the shower running so he couldn't hear me piss. I wanted to close my legs together like I usually do, but I finished, eventually - I'd really had to go. And when I'd finished I looked up again through the glass at Tom, still with my legs spread wide apart for him, wiped myself, stood up slowly, pulled my shorts and panties up and flushed.

A moment later he yelled out "Hey!" and tried to jump out of the shower stream as the water ran hot - I'd forgotten not to flush while there was someone in the shower.

"I'm sorry Tom. I forgot." But I wasn't sorry. For half a second I'd seen his penis clearly when he pressed up close against the glass. Small and hard and standing straight up vertical. Well, small by adult standards, I guess.

How was I going to do this? There was only one way, really. I just went up and slid the shower screen open.

"You were masturbating, weren't you? It's not your fault, Tom, I need you to do it."

I reached in and turned the taps off. He stood there looking up at me with both his hands covering his boyhood. Gently, I touched my fingers to his cheek, trailed them down his chest, brushed against his huge erection. (Well, huge for a twelve year old.).

"Do you want me to take my panties off again?"

That got to him. I could see it in his eyes.

"Come on then." I handed him a towel. "Come to my room and I'll take my panties off for you."

>From there on it was easy. Once he took the first step he was going to go all the way. We both knew it.

He followed me for a few steps down the hall but stopped, as if torn by indecision. He'd wrapped the towel around his waist by then, of course.

"I'm going to show you what a girl looks like Tom. And you're going to show me how you masturbate." I was undoing the buttons of my blouse as I spoke, shrugging it off. Still he paused. "I'm going to take my bra off now" I said, reaching for the clip behind me and stepping back into my bedroom.

That did it. He followed me, sat on the bed and as I gently pulled his towel away; my bra slid off my shoulders and he was staring at my breasts, my nipples hard and pointed. He had a magnificent penis - if you can call something that size magnificent, that is - long and thin and pointed at the end.

She was touching my penis now. For a moment she was rubbing it like she was going to make me come on her fingers while I stared at her breasts so close to me. The feel of my sister's hand on my penis was just so good. But only for a moment. I'd thought she was doing it to masturbate me, but no, it was more like an inspection. Monica was working out just where to use the knife.

"Please Monica, please don't cut me."

"It's too late Tom. I'm sorry, but you're the one that started masturbating. I can't have you going back to school until I've cured you. And I need you to help. I need you to do it for me." She smiled, touched my penis again. "I know you want to."

With her other hand, she gently squeezed her nipple, cupped one perfect breast for me.

She was going to cut me anyway. I guess I already knew, but she told me again.

"Tom" I told him, "I'm not going to cut your penis if you masturbate in front of me. It's not a trick Tom. If you don't do it for me, then I have to cut it off."

"Do you mean -"

"All of it, Tom."

"And what if I ..." he hesitated "... if I do masturbate?"

"I don't know-"

"You promise not to cut it off?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I might just circumcise the skin off, this part here... "

I made a ring around the middle of his penis with my fingers, slid his foreskin up and back so that the cute brown wrinkles bunched up around the head and smoothed out when I pulled it back. He almost moaned aloud - he was so sensitive to my touch! With my other hand I flicked the buttons of my jean-shorts open, one by one, pulled my fly open.

"... but I still might have to circumcise it all off."

Using both hands now, I pulled my shorts down for him.

"Cut it all off?"

"Yes Tom. All of it. No penis at all."

Suddenly he was doing it. He wrapped his right hand around his little stiffie and was staring at me, at my face, my breasts, my panties, pumping up and down like crazy.

I'd said I'd take them off for him but now I didn't want to. I wasn't feeling shy or anything, I'd gone too far for that already, but I had a problem. I'd got a little damp before. I mean, he was my brother but stripping for a boy, and looking at his private parts - there was something about that little erection that affected me. But I hadn't got to be 19 without learning how to control myself, so I just ignored it. I was OK up until about the time I took my shorts off. Then I'd said about cutting his penis off and pictured it and it was too much for me. Suddenly I was soaking down there. Every time I moved I could feel my stiff little clit rubbing against my panties and I had to close my legs to hide the wetness.

Oh God! what if he saw? I quickly covered myself with my hand laid flat on the outside of my panties. I'd thought to give myself a moment to recover, instead I made it worse.

Touching down there was a mistake. The pressure on my pubic area was sent a vivid blast of lust and pleasure through me, centered on my sexual parts. I clutched myself and almost moaned with pent up desire. Convulsively, with the last of my pride and will power I turned my back. For a few seconds I felt breathless, weak-kneed, and I bent over trying not to let my breathing get too loud. Still not wanting Tom to see my wet patch, I squeezed my thighs still tighter together. That was almost another mistake - it felt good too. But I was mastering myself now, bit by bit. In a moment I could find a way to hide my wetness and turn around again.

No! Too late! I could feel something splashing down my leg, another, warm and ... I knew before I'd even turned my head. It was Tom. His thing was spurting semen, dribbling inside his fist now. He looked horrified.

"It's OK Tom." I reassured him. "It's OK." I wrapped his towel around my waist, covered up the signs of my arousal.

"I think you better take another shower."

When he'd gone, I cleaned myself up, slipped into a dressing gown, slumped into my chair. I'd really made a mess of that idea. I felt dreadful, ashamed of myself. I'd only just avoided making an unforgivable exhibition of myself - more by good luck than judgement. And I hadn't even done what I'd set out to do.

I still had no idea of what Tom did to masturbate. I'd seen him wrap his fist around and stroke it, but had he rubbed it one way or the other? By the time I'd turned away and overcome my own urges, he was finished. It was too late. Also, I'd been shocked by the way my own body had reacted to the situation. Was I that weak? Immoral? Maybe I was the one that needed treatment? I hadn't meant to get excited, it just happened and I didn't know how to deal with it.

It was hours before I went to sleep.

Her legs, her hips, the crack of her bottom disappearing yet still visible through her white bikini panties, the flattening right down between her legs - and then my penis started spurting unexpected as I saw the patch of moisture seeping through her panties. It was too much for me, I couldn't stop. I squirted, squirted again and again, and her legs were dripping with my semen. Too late I clenched my fist and stopped the last few spurts from shooting out. As she turned in shock I tried to say that I was sorry but I couldn't get the words out yet. I felt dreadful.

She was so good about it. She didn't say anything, just covered herself up with a towel and told me not to think about it. God she had beautiful breasts.