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t the bottom of my wardrobe.  There was a cutting I’d kept from ‚Smash Hits‘ magazine of the fellas from Spandau Ballet wearing just loin cloths: that was just incredible as the five of them were all a bit sweaty and the third one in – I had no idea of any of their names – had a really pronounced bulge that was made all the better for being a bit ambiguous as to whether it was being made by his c

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ock or his balls.  I had a picture I’d found on the back of a 45 single which showed Grace Jones and her brother both in the nuddie; him with this mammoth black monster out front that would need deifying rather than mere worshipping.  And, underneath those, I had a small collection of pictures I’d cut out of the Sunday magazines showing the likes of Boris Becker, Jason Donovan and Matt Goss, a

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ll with their shorts or trunks showing off fascinating lumps. c2 It was all laughably tame compared to what’s around these days, but any one of them could easily get a good wank underway when my memory or my imagination just wouldn’t cut it. c2 One day when I was off school sick, I must have been consigned to my bedroom and feeling piss bored.  For some reason I got out my collection of ‚Guinn

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ess Book of Records‘ that my gran bought me every Christmas and which were never normally opened except from a sense of duty on Christmas morning.  I had absolutely no interest in them but had never had the heart to tell her – the poor old bugger probably couldn’t think of stuff to buy a teenaged lad – so they just got filed away on my bookshelf, all in pristine condition. c2 Anyway, I was hav

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ing a rifle through them – like I say, I must have been bored out my mind – and after I’d looked up stuff about who was the fattest person who’d ever lived and who could eat the most boiled eggs before chucking up, I flicked to the sports pages. c2 Now I remember the rest of this day very clearly because it was the first day I ever wanked off five times in a row. c2 It was the cricketers that

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did it for me.  It was nice enough that when you saw them from the back you could always make out the really obvious of their underwear against their crisp white trousers, but the big hefty mounds they were packing out front were just out of this world.  I can’t remember why I was sick from school, but my illness didn’t stop my dick standing up on permanent hard-on all through that day. c2 For

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a brief time, I actually got into cricket.  Well, I bought a sticker album and started collecting the stickers showing all the players bending, batting and bowling in their tight white trousers, which is near enough the same. c2 It was years later that I found out that cricketers only pack huge bulges in their crotches and have really prominent underwear lines on their arses because of the cu

ps and jock straps that they have to wear.  All those wanks I used to have had been under false pretences; all those ‚Guinness Book of Records‘ hardbacks pored over with a magnifying glass when in reality there hadn’t been a single cock making as much as a dimple. c2 Anyway, that’s my potted history of self-abuse all the way from ‚My Very First Wank‘ that Sunday evening, through to the infamou

s catalogue incident with Edgy, which I’ve already told you. c2 I feel like this has turned out to be a rambling journal entry so sorry about that.  No doubt in my next session, Philip will want me to continue writing about the whole father figure fetish thing he reckons I’ve got going on. c2 Thinking about it though, it’s probably best when he guides me about what I should write here.  There‘

s no way I’d have admitted that before I tried writing under my own steam, but he’s probably right to give me a bit of direction. c2 So maybe treat this one as a sort of interlude in my chronicle (or should that be ‚gospel‘?) of cock worship before we get back on track next time. hr c1 [email protected] br jasonkason.tumblr.com dir ltr One would be truly surprised about what secrets may lay lu

rking in every corner and shadow … I never had realized that till a few moments ago… There I was … In my room … In a dark night, and a dark purpose of mine making every shadow in the room seem brighter than the sun … After all, plotting the death of your own blood is darker than the darkest shadows.. dir ltr …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. dir ltr A week Earlier.. dir ltr I got to my room, and i started reading The Fault In

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