Life in the Morning Wood Zone

by Biff Spork

Chapter 3

The morning following our tumble down the roof the first thing I see when I boot up my computer is a message from the Cumster , Nevada.

Cumster: X? You there?

Dickup: Hi DM

Cumster: Any fallout from last nite?

Dickup: I'm grounded

Cumster: How long?

Dickup: just today

Cumster: sOK but sucks

Dickup: Not bad actually

Dickup: the old man was pretty cool says we might have broke our necks. He can't stop laughing. He chortles. Every time he sees me he chortles.

Cumster: Gawd

Cumster: might have broke our dorks

Dickup: ouch that wd be bad

Cumster: Have to go to the hospital

Dickup: What seems to be the trouble son?

Cumster: Fractured cock sir

Dickup: Nurse!

Cumster: I'm going to have to manipulate it sonny

Dickup: tell me if it hurts

Cumster: hmmm erectile function seems unimpaired

Dickup: bring the jerkoff simulator

Cumster: !

Dickup: set it to low and slow in case theres a problem

Cumster: yes doctor there there little boy just relax. I'll put the ball holder on now

Cumster: you may feel a little warm pressure on your testicals don't worry

Dickup: do we need the anal probe

Cumster: Yes and it has to be the warty one

Dickup: I understand doctor its lubed and inserted

Cumster: Yes, hmmmm it may be just a sprain but its best to check everything out

Dickup: Nurse I feel funny

Cumster: that's good sonny nothing to worry about let me just tighten the ball holder a bit

Dickup: doctor we need to test the integrity of the juice tubes

Cumster: ok nurse I'll just put the headsucker on

Dickup: I'll apply the shaftslider collar

Cumster: ok but just increase the speed slowly

Dickup: Oh nurse I think I'm going to peepee

Cumster: nurse quickly!

Cumster: tube clamp!

Dickup: not the tube clamp nooooo

Cumster: sorry son we need to test this under stress

Dickup: try to bear up

Cumster: shall we call your mother?

Dickup: tube clamp is holding doctor

Cumster: give it warp 5

Dickup: gawd hes blown the shaft sleeve

Cumster: theres no time

Dickup: the pressures mounting

Cumster: Splurt splat sprooooooge

Dickup: squeert squoot squoot squooooze

Cumster: lol

Dickup: I like that sproooooooge

"Tyler?" calls my mom through the closed door.

Dickup: brb

I hit the BossIsComing icon and "Science Facts for Kids" fills the screen.


Mom pokes her head through the doorway. "I'm going shopping. Whyncha mow the lawn? Get some fresh air. I'll give you twenty bucks and your Dad'll be happy."

"Okay," I say in full conciliatory mode. Maybe I can get time off my grounding for good behavior.

"Do a good job," she says.

I nod.

"I mean it, seriously."


"There's some of those pizza things in the fridge for lunch if you want."


"I'll be back about two."

"Okay. Okay. Okay!"

Cumster: I'm gone.

Cumster: I'm beaching. Bye.

Dickup: bye

It's one of those days in July I love when it's so hot you can't imagine what it's like to be cold. I ride the mower right into the center of the lawn. Today I'm mowing in a tight circle spiraling outwards. The mower noise blocks out other sounds and that and the smell of fresh cut grass zonks me totally as I go round and round. After a half hour I feel real hot and thirsty. I throw my T-shirt on the hedge, go get a juice box from the fridge and sit down in the shade of the hedge to drink it. Strawberry-pineapple. It's soooo good. I hear a yip and see Old Man Hinkle's little dog nosing through the hedge. He comes snorfing up wagging his tail like I'm the ice-cream man.

"Hey, Pinky!" I say. He's whipping his little tail back and forth so hard with happiness he nearly busts himself in half.

He's a chiwawa and one of those legfucker dogs so he immediately jumps my leg and starts humping away with a goofy grin on his face and his hard little pecker rubbing up and down my calf. Usually I just flick him away but today I'm feeling mellow and decide to let him have his way with me. He probably doesn't get anything from dried up Old Hinkle.

Well, I'm not exactly thinking about it but Mr. Stiff picks up on what's going down and decides to stand up. Meanwhile Pinky is going at it hot and heavy but doesn't seem to be getting anywhere. I pull him off my leg and put him down in front of me between my legs. He rolls onto his back with his little hard-on sticking out so I reach over and start to do him. Dogs got funny dinks, no head, just this pointy bright pink shaft. He's gone. He's just totally enjoying this with his back legs spread apart and his front paws limp as I rub him up and down. I reach up the leg of my shorts with my left hand and start to give myself a few strokes, just to keep him company. Pinky gives a few little yips and snorts and I can tell he's just about over the edge. His eyes have gone all funny – open but unfocused. I'm on the edge, too. Left hand jerking is a whole different experience. I've got my eyes nearly closed so the garden is this bright green haze and everything seems to be buzzing and humming.

"Pinky!" barks a voice. I look up to see old Hinkle glaring down at us from his side of the hedge. Pinky jumps up looking guilty and wagging his tail like he's going to die.

"Hi, Mr. Hinkle," I say brightly and start scratching my leg with my quickly pulled out left hand. "How ya doin'?"

He stares at me for like, a minute, then says, "Fine," and disappears into his yard. Pinky's already wormed back through the hedge. I pull open the waistband of my shorts and have a look at the offending organ . It's gone all soft now with a little ooze leaking out the end of my foreskin. It's kind of nice actually, to have this nearly cumming feeling lurking down there in the loinal region. I stand up and get back on the mower.

As I'm going around I see Hinkle pull out of his driveway and I feel nicely alone again. And there's something about the vibration of the mower, the way it just goes right through me so all my insides are vibrating. I reach down inside my shorts to meet the monster all perked up once again. Since I only need one hand to drive this thing and I'm doing the last wide circles around the edge of the lawn where it meets the flowerbeds, I begin to give myself a little rub.

The steering is tricky because of a shallow ditch thing where the lawn ends but I'm not going fast and everything is moving along just fine until the last moments. Gawd! What a cum! At that crucial instant one wheel of the mower slips into that little gutter and the whole machine slews sideways into the flower bed. As I'm bucking up and down off the seat with a really excellent orgasm the mower is grinding up the dirt and flowers and making those clang bang ponk ricochet noises when it hits some rocks.

In case the noise has attracted anyone's attention I spin a few circles in the flower bed until I have shaved off that particular patch of blossoms . I don't want it to look like I lost control. Then I make one more high speed circuit and I have finished the lawn.

I'm hungry. I nuke a couple of mini-pizzas and take them up to my room so I can shed my jizz-soaked shorts and fill in my diary while I eat. As the shorts hit the floor I sniff deeply – definitely bleachy smelling though there is a hint of fishiness too. The diary is Nevada's idea. He read somewhere that the average thirteen -year-old boy jerks off twenty-two times every week. He says we need to keep track so we don't fall below average. "If you don't use it, you lose it," he says. So we have to keep records to make sure we're on par with our peers. I make a tick under today's date, the third tick today. I had one in bed just after I woke up and then another in the bathroom after breakfast. I ponder about whether I had one or two outside just now but decide that although I nearly had one with Pinky, that ooze doesn't really count. The total is seventeen so far for this week and I still have nearly three days left, maybe another seven jerkoffs for the rest of the week to make a grand total of twenty-four . For the weekly total, a wet dream is a bonus item. One wet dream is worth two jerkoffs but I haven't had one this week. Still, considering I've only just turned thirteen I am definitely above average, doing very well.

The other thing we keep track of is the record for a single day. Nevada's the current champ with six in one day. I figure that once I've got this week's minimum of twenty-two then I'll keep my hands off it for twenty-four hours and go for the record. To get seven in one day is going to require serious restraint and some careful planning. Logistics!

We also have records for the fastest cum, from first stroke to first spurt. Nevada says this is an important adaptive ability. "You're on the savannah with your female, gathering roots and berries. Suddenly you see you are being stalked by a lion. He's hunching down and springing his claws preparing to charge. You see that in a minute you are going to die, without leaving any child behind. Very important to jump your female and make sure she is completely impregnated before that lion tears your body into tasty little pieces. VERY important! The survival of the species depends on it. Slow breeders soon get culled out." I hold the record here – nineteen seconds from initial hands on to first squirt – but I was really horny. For the slowest cum, Nevada is the record holder with forty-two minutes and twelve seconds. He says we don't need to keep records for this. It's just an interesting and symmetrical statistic.

The other diary entry I make is for a new list we just started last week. I write, "On the riding lawnmower." Nevada has this thing about doing it everywhere. He says people are just too limited about where they have sex. "We should be having sex everywhere," he says. "Not just in bed or in the bathroom. We need to integrate it into all our activities, make it a part of our everyday life." I'm not doing too well with this one. Aside from "On the roof" the only other entry I've got so far is, "On the bus."

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