So, yeah. My name is Josh Yates, and welcome to my web site, I guess. I'm not really sure why I'm doing this, but I gotta make some serious cash this summer, and my best bud Joe says I'll make a ton off this site, cause I got something other guys'll pay money to see. I guess it's true, 'cause I've had dudes come up to me, all bashful and everything, and tell me they want to see it, and one time it was Evan—maybe I shouldn't mention his name? Shit, Evan won't see this—so, Evan caught me in the halls right when the bell was about to ring and muttered something about wanting me to whip it out for him, and I was like, fuck, yeah, for 20 bucks! 'Cause he was the jerk who pushed me around in middle school, right, and stole my lunch a couple times, and now that I'm bigger than he is—in more ways than one, ya know—he's all like I wanna see it and Whip it out. So I says 20 bucks, like he'd get pissed and run away, and he just smiles, surprised like he didn't think I'd say yes, and pulls out his wallet and gives me a twenty!

So, well, fuck, now I gotta do it, right? So I haul him into the boys' bathroom and drop my books in the sink and we go into a stall together. He's all flushed in the face, and my heart is pounding too, 'cause this was so weird, and I made him unbutton my jeans and yank 'em down, just for fun, and he did it, and my thing popped out and it was all like quivering, like it wanted to get hard and stuff. And that's a thing for me, man it gets hard all the fucking time, and for no reason—it just goes wham! and it's all stiff all of a sudden, and I mean it gets rock hard. Anyway, that's what happened in the john, for no reason like I said, and Evan's eyes get all big and he just stares at it as it gets all big and starts standing up, and it's super hard and the head was pushing on my chest really hard—it has this curve to it, just enough that it kinda arches back toward me? And when it's totally boned the head presses against my chest really hard. Which is good, actually, I guess, 'cause it doesn't bob around when its hard like I've seen some guys' things do, and that would suck for me 'cause it would go all over the fuckin' place.

So anyway I start laying into Evan for getting me all hard, 'cause I had to go back to class—the bell just rang, shit!—and now it was hard I couldn't hide it 'cause I was only wearing a heavy t-shirt, you know, the green XL one that's really thick? Fuck, how would you know? I'll put up a picture. So—and even under that heavy t-shirt it would have really been hard to miss. I mean, shit, it's bigger around than my forearm, ya know? But he's just staring at it, like the sight of it had completely fried his mind. He was fucking drooling, for fuck's sake! So I had and idea and make him trade shirts with me, 'cause he was wearing this big ol' Cornell sweatshirt, which I knew he'd got going on college interviews. He got it big on purpose 'cause he was gonna spend all summer at the gym and show up at Cornell all built and stuff, only he didn't get in, the fucker.

So I pulled off my shirt, and there was already a big wet spot right over my heart, 'cause my thing had been leakin' already. But that was his problem now. So I tell him to take off his sweatshirt and he does, but he's all in a daze like he's coked up or something, and I have to tell him to put on the t-shirt, and he just stands there with it in his hands, and then he puts it up to his face and smells it! Christ, we're late for class and I got a monster hard on and he's smelling my fucking t-shirt! So I yell at him to put it on and he does. I notice as he pulls it on that he really has been hitting the gym, 'cause when he was rankin' on me in middle school he was just tall and skinny, but now he was all like buff and stuff, with this little patch of hair between his pecs and another one running up his abs, and you know I was kinda jealous for a minute. 'Cause, shit, I don't have a patch of dark hair between my pecs. 'Course it'd be weird if I did, 'cause I'm blond, but I don't have a blond patch either. Guess it's just as well, cause maybe it'd tickle my thing, you know. Bet it would. Wonder how that would feel.

So—anyway, we put on each others' shirts and stuff, and I just get out of there, and I pick up my books and hold em in front of my thing as much as I can, and we go back to class. Miss Fricks glares at me but starts yammerin' on again, and I grab a seat all the way in the back, and you know that fuck Evan actually sat down next to me like he was my new best friend or something! Meanwhile I gotta sit all funny, with my legs all stretched out and everything, 'cause I had to keep my thing straight or it would show real bad even in the sweatshirt, and heck I could already see the shape of it in the sweatshirt. I knew it was there, but still. And the whole time Evan is staring at me, so I completely have no chance of thinking my thing down.

And you know what happened after school? He ran up to me while I was walkin' home, after I'd finally got it soft and shoved it down between my legs, and you know what he did? He said he wanted to see it again. And he already had a twenty out! Fuckin' loser. So I took it and let him follow me home. And when we got up to my room he pulled down my pants without my even telling him to, and then you know what he did? He reached out and grabbed it! Well I punched him and said that was at least another twenty. Well, he looked all said like I'd kicked his dog or something and said he'd already given me everything he had for the week. And I guess, I dunno, I guess I kinda felt sorry for him, 'cause you know it was gonna get really expensive for him, right? If I keep letting him see it and touch it an' stuff. So I make a deal with him. I says, I'll let you touch it and stuff, but you gotta do stuff for me, right? And he gives me this huge fucking grin, you know, like he's gonna kiss me or something, and while I'm wondering what that'd be like he says, What've I gotta do? And so I think for a minute and tell him he's gotta mow the lawn for me, and then I think that'll only last a little while 'cause it's already September, so I tell him he's also gotta rake the leaves and shovel the snow and all that kinda shit. And he's totally cool with that! So now I let him follow me home after school and if there's any yard stuff I make him do that first, you know, like incentive and shit, and then he's all paid up and we go up to my bedroom and I let him touch it and stuff.

Joe says I could totally get my whole posse and make 'em do stuff for me like Evan, but I dunno. Dad already thinks it's strange I got two guy friends and no girl friends—he thinks Evan it a guy friend. But girls get so fucking weird about my thing, and they get all scared about it, so I just stopped trying to meet girls 'cause I haven't met a single fucking one of 'em that could even look at it without screaming or something. So I'll just hang with my guys. None of 'em has seen my thing, except Evan I guess, and Joe of course, and I don't think they want to, although I know I've seen Kevin glancing down at my thing every fucking time he talks to me, come to think of it. And Shawn too, I've seen looking. And the Doten twins I caught staring at my crotch once, whispering to each other. They're all weird around Evan now, too, like he's special or something. Crap, I'll bet every fuckin' one of 'em wants to see it. Well, let 'em come here to my web site and pay $12.95 like you did!

So I'm still figuring out what to put up here. Pictures, o' course. If you want to see me just normal and all, click on Gallery 1. Gallery 2 I'm all hard, but I'm still dressed—you have to see if you can see it. That was Joe's fuckin' idea, I think it's lame but he says he knows what'll make money and I really gotta get a wad of cash 'cause I so need a car, so tell your friends, aight? So, what else. Gallery 3 I'm naked, or nude or whatever, and Gallery 4 I'm naked and hard. Evan took the pictures, and I charged him for that one, 'cause I knew he was gonna take the pictures home and do stuff. But I gave him the money back if he'd let me use 'em on the web site.

What else. Oh, right, I gotta put in an FAQ. Let's see. I'll get Evan and Joe to shoot me some questions while I'm typing.

Q. How big is it.
A. Why is that always the first question? You can see how big it is. I dunno. It's too big for a fuckin' ruler, that's for sure. Wait. I just got Evan to measure it with the tape measure from Mom's sewing room. It's, shit, it's 16 and a half inches long, you know measuring from the top, and it's—shit! 9 and a quarter inches around.

Q. How big is it soft.
A. I dunno. We gotta wait a while. I'll come back and add that in later.

Q. Does it feel good.
A. Chuh. Shit yeah. What do you think?

Q. Was it always this big.
A. What a fucking stupid question. Like I popped out with a thing this size when I was born. I guess it was always big, but it's been this size—up to my chest—ever since I started getting hard.

Q. When was that.
A. How the fuck should I know? I remember getting hard in fourth grade, I guess. Maybe soon, but that's what I remember.

Q. How much do you come.
A. What? Are you serious? I dunno. It's, well, it's like, I guess if I caught it in my hands it would like fill up my hands if I cupped them, right? I guess. I dunno. These questions are fucked up.

Q. Do you have any tattoos.
A. No. I wrote on my thing once, I was watching some stuff about the moon, and I got out a felt-tip pen and wrote SATURN V down the side, you know, like it was a rocket or something, 'cause the show reminded me of it. Stupid, I guess. It washed away after a coupla days.

Q. Do you use both hands to jack off.
A. Well, duh. Don't you guys? No? Well, I guess I hafta. I can't even get one hand around it, so I kinda need both. You guys only use one hand? Really?

Q. Do you jack off a lot.
A. Ha ha, next question.

Q. Can you suck yourself.
A. Fuck you! None of your business.

Q. They'll want to know.
A. Too bad.

Q. They'll really really want to know.
A. Aw fuck. Yeah, of course I can suck myself. I mean look at it. It's right there.

Q. How often do you do it?
A. Fuck off.

Q. C'mon.
A. I'm serious, fuck off.

Q. You gotta say. They're paying for you to tell 'em everything, G.
A. You serious? Man. All right. Every night. Every fucking night. I suck myself every night when I go to bed. And every morning when I wake up. Fuck. Happy now? (Shit, Evan just came in his fucking pants! Fucking loser. Joe's laughing at him, but he's laughing really funny, all nervous or something. Unbe-fucking-lievable.)

Q. How many guys have seen it hard.
A. Well, there's you guys. Um. I guess that's it. No wait, I got hard in P.E. class last year, I dunno why. So fucking everyone saw it then, 'cause it was in the showers. That really really sucked. I didn't hear the end of it for months. Still haven't heard the end of it. Actually a lot of my posse was in that class, they started hanging out with me around then. So if you look at it that way all my friends have see n it hard. Huh. Didn't realize that.

Q. Anything negative about it?
A. Shit, yeah! It gets in the way all the fucking time, and if it's trying to get hard in my pants I can't even hardly walk for fuck's sake. It takes forever to pee 'cause I gotta squeeze it all out. People can see it sometimes even if I don't want 'em to. And I don't know if I'll be able to—well—you know.

Q. What.
A. Fuck. I don't know if I'll be able to fuck anyone. Or anything. ... What? What are you looking at? Why are you grinning at me like that?