Desert Jack Off
By: Henry Higgins
(Copyright 2006 by the Author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

I went to New Mexico's land grant university where my father taught psychology. The university is located in the state's southern desert, where summertime highs can top 100 degrees. By late evening, the temperature usually settles back into the 80s -- often with a light, cooling breeze. From the college campus at the edge of town, the desert rises in gentle swells to the foot of the Organ Mountains some twenty miles away. Mesquite and greasewood cap six- to eight-foot sand dunes that shelter a variety of hardy little animals that thrive in that harsh world -- jack rabbits, mice, horned toads, scorpions, rattlesnakes, and coyotes, to name a few.

From the end of a campus service road, car tracks branch out to crisscross the desert around the campus. For years, students have used this area at night to party and neck. Growing up near campus, I used this same area for my own solitary interests. I would ramble alone all the way out to the mountains, hunt rabbits and rattlers with my .22 rifle, and camp out overnight. I even learned to jack off out there -- all by myself. I probably knew that part of the desert better than anyone.

When I started school at the university, I moved into one of the dormitories. My parents and I agreed that it would be easier for me to fit into campus life if I lived in a dorm. So on the Saturday before classes started, I had settled into my room before noon.

I was nervous about meeting my roommate. I knew that he came from the northern part of the state, where high mountain grassland supports cattle ranching. The southern part of the state is more into raising crops -- alfalfa, cotton, soybeans -- where the land can be irrigated. Without irrigation, farmers couldn't survive down here.

Through high school, I had learned just how tough the northern ranch kids were. Maybe they had to be; most of them worked their families' ranches along with parents, siblings, and hired hands. Or, maybe it was part of their culture. Whatever the reason, it seemed that in just about every high school sport the schools in our district would battle it out for the championship, then send the champion up north only to get soundly trounced in the first round of eliminations -- every sport that is, except track. Our track team practiced in the desert, where running in the soft sand strengthened our legs considerably more than teams that practiced on asphalt or dirt tracks. So we usually brought home track trophies, even while we left football, baseball, and basketball trophies up north.

Jeremy arrived after lunch. I greeted a compact, well-muscled lad complete with the riding boots, Stetson hat, and shit-kicker belt buckle that seem to mark all northern ranch kids. This one looked like he had just gotten off a rodeo bull, only he had freckles! I didn't know whether I'd be tested, accepted, or ignored. I couldn't tell just by studying the flint eyes that measured me up and down. He shook my hand in a crushing grip, nodded slightly as he mumbled "gladdameecha," then set about moving in. I helped him and his dad carry boxes up from his dad's pickup truck.

My track training had me in good enough shape that I could run up and down the stairs several times without getting too winded. Every time Jeremy and I would pass, those eyes were on me again. It didn't take long for the three of us to transfer Jeremy's things. He and his dad did the father-son handshake-then-quick- hug thing. Then his dad drawled in a raw voice, "Well I guess I better be gittin' back up north." Jeremy nodded silently. His dad turned to me and said, "Nice ta meecha, Fletcher," and then was out the door and gone. As soon as the door closed, Jeremy seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air. He let out a big sigh as he flopped down on his bed, leaving the remaining boxes unattended.

"Cheeezusss! They love ya, but parents can be such a royal pain in th' ass at times like this. I wanted to take the bus down and ship my stuff, but nooo; he had t' drive me down even though he's got two days of fencin' left -- him with his bad back and all."

"Seems like he cares a lot about you, Jeremy," I observed. The flint eyes impaled me once again then looked away.

"My friends call me Jer. Yeah -- he cares about me -- I know that. It's just that sometimes he has a fuckin' strange way of showin' it."

"And I can see that you care about him, too."

Once again that gaze bore a hole in me. "What are you, some sorta shrink?"

"My dad teaches psychology here. I guess it runs in the family."

"Oh. Well, yeah. I mean... He's my dad. Sure I care about him. It's just that he can be so stubborn. I get really pissed with him sometimes."

"Yeah, me and my dad are like that sometimes, too," I said. "And, he gets pissed with me, too."

This time I returned the flint gaze and smiled. Did I see him soften just a little, or was it my imagination?

Jer looked away first. "Hey! It's hot as hell up here." Our room was on the top floor of the dorm.

"Yeah, it's a pisser," I said. "We'll have to get a fan. Meanwhile, we could just go in our skivvies. I've seen some of the other guys on this floor doing that." I stole a quick glance at this tough-soft mountain boy to check his reaction as I pulled off my T-shirt. He grinned.

"Not a half-bad idea, Fletcher. I'll join ya."

My mouth fell open as Jer pulled off his shirt and jeans to reveal one of the most powerful upper bodies on a kid my age that I'd ever seen. Wiry bush fluffed out from his armpits, a shade darker than the sandy curls on his head. His pecs stuck out like a small pair of breasts with pointy, pink tits. He looked like he could've worn a small bra. Sandy chest hair sprouted in the valley between his tits and ran down the center of his tummy, around his navel, and then more thickly across the flat of his belly and under his briefs. His thighs looked like small barrels. Freckles dotted his chest and thighs.

"Whadda they do -- hang you up by yer ears at night?" he said. "Yer mouth's gonna start catching flies if you don't shut it! Gawd you're long an' tall! And, where's yer hair?"

I gulped as my lips banged shut. Shit! Remember, don't stare. Still, I noted the white CKs and their prominent bulge as I turned around to find my desk chair.

"I guess that's genetic, too." I said.

"What -- that fly-catcher mouth or your bald, bean-pole physique?" His eyes sparkled as he grinned broadly.

I sighed with relief as I caught up with his humor. "All of it, I guess" I beamed back just as broadly. I was beginning to relax with this hard-shelled shit-kicker who turned out to be just a regular guy when his daddy left and he took off the uniform. "What about you, were you born at the gym? Your daddy sure ain't built like you."

"Naw, but he'll surprise ya. I jus' th'ow some hay is all. That little bastard'll outwork you an' me combined. 'Sides, it comes from my mom's side of the family. You oughta see my Uncle George!"

I was beginning to warm up to Jeremy, and didn't feel nearly as nervous as I had previously.

Those eyes were on me again. By then, I had shucked my shirt and shorts and was knocking back in my Joe Boxers. He raised his eyebrows appraisingly. "That's a long 'n' strong set o' pumpers you got there. Lessee, I'll bet you played tennis or ran track."

"Track," I replied, "Long-distance."

"Hey, awright!" he drawled, "I ran track too when I wasn't packin' a pigskin.

Jer and I went on to find that not only had we both run track in high school, we also liked girls and airplanes, and were obsessed with sex. It didn't take us long to discover that we were both virgin and okay with it. By the end of the weekend, we had compared notes on petting techniques, girls we had dated, and each other's dicks.

I was also delighted to discover that Jer viewed nudity very much as I did -- it was no big deal. Sure, we checked each other out the first time we showered together. I noted Jer's fat dick that always seemed to be half-hard, as I saw him size up my long, slender organ. His dick had a pronounced curve to it that grew even more so as it got hard. I saw that for the first time the next morning as we raced down the hall to the bathroom to relieve our overly full bladders. His balls snugged up against his body in a compact, triangular thatch of pubic curls. My dick was long, slender, and straight. My balls hung low even when I was boned and what pubic hair I had was long, light, and wavy. Aside from some wisps in my armpits, I had no other upper body hair.

Jer and I respected each other's need for release. In bed after we turned our lights out, we could hear each other's sheets rustling as we trimmed our horns. Like being nude together, neither of us thought much of jacking off; it was just part of life.

From that first weekend, we would run together in the desert near campus. Our favorite time was just after dawn, the coolest part of the day. Our alarm would come on at five. By five-thirty we had peed, splashed water on our faces, donned running shorts and shoes, and were out the door. An hour or so and six miles later, we would hit the showers, go to breakfast and then to our first class.

By Monday of the second week of the semester, we discovered that early in the morning, we could run nude with no danger of discovery. That particular morning had been so sultry, even at that hour, that the day was sure to be a scorcher. About a mile into our run I paused and said, "Why don't we run in the skinny, Jer? We never see anyone out here this early."

"It's worth a try," he said, as he skimmed off his running shorts and rolled them up to hold in his left hand. As usual, his fat one was waving at half-staff. I did the same and we resumed our run. I noticed that Jer was growing to a full erection.

Running in the skinny is kind of like skinny-dipping. If you've ever skinny-dipped, you know what I mean. You would think that a thin layer of cloth between you and the water wouldn't make that much difference. But, when you take your trunks off, suddenly your anus is touched by cool water that it didn't feel when that part of your body was covered by a swimsuit. To me that was always one of the most freeing sensations of skinny-dipping. Running nude was similar, yet different. I didn't feel cool air against my anus, but I noticed much more movement in my dick and balls. I had to concentrate on establishing a rhythm to avoid slapping one or both balls uncomfortably against my legs. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, Jeremy didn't have that problem with his balls. However, his erect dick was giving him fits. Soon, though, he also found a rhythm that seemed to manage his wavy appendage.

Dawn is one of the most beautiful times of day in the desert. The sky goes from dove gray through deep rose to light yellow as day breaks. The birds start calling all at once. Occasionally we'd surprise a coyote having a late snack before heading back to its den, abandoning the carcass to vultures later in the day. Usually we would see only a flash of tawny tail disappearing behind a dune. Jackrabbits were everywhere.

Around mile three, we came to some formations of basalt that jutted out of the sandy floor of the desert. To get to these formations, we had had to ascend a gradually increasing incline that put a nice stress on us. On this day, we were both dripping with sweat as we bounded into the area of the formations. We walked on into an area filled with bowl-shaped depressions in dark basalt rock. Some of the larger ones still held water from the last rain. We splashed it on ourselves as we cooled down.

Basalt is an igneous rock formed from the molten lava of long-extinct volcanoes. As it came out of the ground, the lava was so hot that it was bubbling. Some of it cooled into the bubble shapes that formed the bowls we saw that day.

As I showed Jer the hidden corners of my world, he told me of his -- sighting wildcats, deer, and elk near his mountain home -- and how once he had a close brush with a puma. I shuddered.

We ran easy so we could talk when we wanted, trading tales of memorable hunts, track meets, girls we'd dated, and road trips. As we neared campus, we would slip our shorts back on so as not to upset anyone who might see us. As the days went by, Jer and I began to share more and more with each other.

He was the second of three brothers -- the most outgoing and boldest of any of them. I, the older brother to a sister, was quieter and more introspective. Jer and I balanced and complemented each other -- not only in personality, but also in academics. He was quick with numbers and technology, where words were my strength.

On Friday of the second weekend of the semester, we took dates to the on-campus movie. Then we snacked at the student union and dropped our dates off at their dorm. As we headed back to our dorm, we broke into an easy trot.

"Cheryl really got close to me tonight, Fletch. I thought she was going to put her hand right in my shorts for a while, but she didn't."

"Sounds like you've got an unhappy little dicky," I chuckled.

"You got that right! He's still looking for some attention. And be careful who you're callin' little!" By then we had climbed the stairs two at a time and were entering our room.

"Sounds serious," I replied. "Hey Jer, have you ever jacked off in front of somebody? You know, put on a show?" His eyes sparkled with inspiration.

"You mean, my old pervert roomie wants to see me beat my meat?"

"I did it once for my little sister. She was curious about how boys jack off and cum, so I showed her. I couldn't believe how great it felt to do it in front of her -- so much better than doing it alone."

"Wow! I never thought of that. My little brother asked me about it once, but I was afraid to show him. I didn't want him ratting to Mom or anything."

"So why don't you try it," I coaxed. "I'll be your audience -- and I promise not to rat on you."

In answer, Jer shucked his shirt, shorts, and undies, and then bent to untie his shoes. Naked then, my friend stepped back in the room until the light from the desk lamp hit him just right, squirted some hand lotion into his palm, and began to slick up his dick, which by then was so erect that it nearly touched his belly just below his navel.

It didn't take him long to get into it. His head sank back on his shoulders with his eyes half-shut to narrow slits. He thrust his pelvis forward into the warm, slippery embrace of his right hand. I sat back on my bed and rubbed my own boner through my shorts, intensely aroused by my roommate's show. Pre-cum began to flow from my dick, so I kicked off my shorts. As I wanked my weenie, my foreskin slid back and forth, lubricating my glans with the slippery fluid that was leaking out.

I stared at Jer arching himself into a taut bow of sweet tension. I shrugged out of my shirt, so that I was then as naked as he. Soon I matched him stroke for stroke. He returned my gaze. We locked into each other's trip and stroked as one as we sank further into our mellow state.

"Oh, Fletch," he rasped, "You're right. This is soo hot!" Our pace quickened as we played the ebb and flow of tension that propelled us into another space. We strained. Jer's knees trembled as he bent way over backward, his hand wanking his arched organ. He sent his first shot over his head onto the floor behind him. His glans had reddened and swelled like a plum sitting on the end of his dick. Subsequent shots made a track down through the hair on his abdomen before dwindling away to a translucent thread of dick drool that fell down into his abundant pubic bush. He sank back onto his bed -- spent and drained, but still staring at me.

I seized the opportunity then to finish myself, rising into the light with my erect penis jutting straight out from my body. My glans popped in and out of my foreskin as I stroked. Jer teased himself back into semi-erection as he watched me mount to my orgasm and then explode into several shots of white goo that arced out onto the floor some four feet in front of me, finishing with my own string of dick drool that stretched down to the floor between my feet.

We grinned at each other as Jer patted his bed beside him and I settled onto it, still breathing hard and coming down from my high.

"Oh, Fletch! That was so hot! I'm gonna sleep well tonight."

"Yeah, me too," I agreed. "It hasn't felt that intense for a long time."

"Since you did it for your sister?" he asked, grinning.

"Well, yeah," I answered, smiling. "Since then."

We did sleep deeply and peacefully that night, which was the start of a very satisfying buddy relationship between Jeremy and me. It didn't take long for us to find our way to mutual masturbation, first in the room and later in the basalt area that lay some three miles into the desert from our dorm. In our senior year, we found girlfriends that were as interested in our penises as we were in their equipment. I'll never forget one Sunday afternoon out in the basalt area when the four of us stripped down and set about learning how to please one another to the max. But then... That's another story.