Date: Wed, 13 Feb 2013 12:53:48 -0800 (PST)
From: John <amateurishwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Mud Humper

Warning: The following story is a work of fiction.  It never happened,
except in the author's imagination.  This story contains graphic sex
between a teenage boy and an adult man.  However, the author does not
encourage or condone sex between adults and little children. If you are
underage, or this is illegal where you are, you already know what you're
supposed to do.  Delete this file and find something else to wank off to.
If this kind of story turns you off, delete this file and find something
else to read.  If you're looking for a story that has someone having sex in
every other sentence, this one is not it ... well actually, this one pretty
much is, I guess.  LOL

Copyright AmateurishWriter 2013 - The author retains the copyright for this
story.  Reproducing and/or placing this story on a commercial web site or
in print without the authors permission is a violation of that copyright.
The use of any character in this story, or any facsimile thereof, is
strictly forbidden and a violation of the copyright.

Comments to AmateurishWriter@yahoo.com, pro and con and of a constructive
nature, will be gratefully received and acknowledged, if possible.  Flamers
will be ignored.

***********************

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***********************

First Author's Note - I wrote something similar to this in a couple of
previous submissions and I find that it bears repeating and clarification
with this story.

Many readers will write this story off as just another "wanker's special"
but it is really more than that.  It's an effort to show that some boys are
not the victims of sexual predators but willing and welcoming receivers of
their own urgently sought after sexual enlightenment and fulfillment.  And,
even more than that, some are aggressive seekers and initiators of same.
In fact, some of those accused as sexual predators, may really just be
willing participants or, perhaps in some cases, even the real victims.
However, and to repeat myself, I neither encourage nor condone sex between
adults and under age children.  What follows is just a fantasy.

Second Author's Note - At my age all I get to do is wank so, here's another
wanker's' special.  And for that, I happily bring you a fantasy of mine
about a boy I knew of back in the mid-80's.  While I knew of him as a kid
in the neighborhood and he knew of me, I think that he also knew about me
being gay as well, and was maybe interested.  However, he never approached
me directly and nothing ever happened between us, sexually or otherwise.


So, meet ...

The Mud Humper

Background

The inspiration for this story's title came from Charles Dickens who
mentions "mudlarks" in some of his wonderful stories.

"A Mudlark is someone who scavenges in river mud for items of value,
especially in London during the Industrial Revolution. Poor peasants would
scavenge in the River Thames during low tide, searching for anything of
value.  They generally consist of boys and girls, varying in age from eight
to fourteen or fifteen ..."  - From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Preface

The story I tell here never really happened.  Rather, it is my
interpretation of an actual young lad's apparent intentions as he
approached me.  And, it is my fertile imagination's fantasies about what
might have happened, had I let on that I knew what he seemed to want of me
and accepted his advances.

This is a story about a boy named Broxton.  A delightfully extravagant
name, to say the least, but it wasn't the only one of his unrestrained
delights.

_____________________________
Part One - The setup and my seduction
Chapter One - The Mud Humpers

I grew up, and lived until retirement, on a tiny archipelago along the New
England coast.  This was back when such locations of beauty and
peacefulness were not littered with the extravagant homes of the filthy
rich, but just the unpretentious summer cottages that had been converted
for year round living.

There was a small harbor there which was surrounded by salt marshes and
white sandy beaches.  At one of the docks in that harbor, I kept a small
sailboat which I enjoyed working on almost as much as I enjoyed sailing.
All spring, summer and early fall, when I was not working at my job or out
harnessing the power of the wind on my boat, I'd be fiddling with some new
gadget, doing regular maintenance or just sitting on deck, reading and
sipping an ice cold beer.

On one early summer Saturday afternoon, while I was just sitting topsides
sipping one of those cold ones, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a
flash of gleaming white wetness near the opposite shore of the harbor about
a hundred yards away.  If I'd been out sailing I'd have thought it was a
porpoise or harbor seal breaking the surface.  As I turned my head to look
more closely I saw the heads of two boys who were swimming at the water's
edge.  It was at the muddy end of one of the salt marshes where a sandy
beach began.  I can remember, as a boy myself, playing in a spot like that
with my friend Paul (Read "Good Ole Paul" here at Nifty.).  We used to have
mud fights and then smear the smelly stuff all over ourselves so that we
looked like mud people from Africa or somewhere else exotic.

Then I chuckled as I remembered something else that Paul and I used to do
in the soft slippery mud there, just below the water's edge.  It was a
naughty chuckle for a naughty activity and I wondered if these two boys had
discovered the same delights that the mud could provide.  Just then was
when I saw, again, the same flash of gleaming white wetness that had caught
my attention before my mind wandered back 30 years.  It was a delightfully
round boy's naked backside breaking the surface.  I watched quietly as the
two clearly had learned to enjoy the pleasures of the mud that I had just
been remembering.

Unfortunately for them, and for me, someone came strolling along the beach
in their direction and they had to cease their mud humping and pull up
their swim trunks.  Alas, I thought, all good things must come to an end
but how fortunate for me to have been in the right place at the right
moment to enjoy the sight of two deliciously naked bums such as those.  As
the boys came out of the water and walked up the beach, I finished my beer
and I headed back up to the house remembering those same fun times, all
those years ago with good old Paul.

________________________ Chapter Two - A chance passing

The next day I made sure that I was back on my boat early so that I could
get some chores done and be sitting on deck relaxing at about the same time
as I had spotted the boys the day before.  They did not appear.  I waited
about a half hour and then gave up.  Oh well, I thought, they had probably
gotten scared off from that particular spot because of the person who came
walking down the beach yesterday.  Or, perhaps they had spotted me perving
their lusciously round bottoms and found another outlet for theirs
adolescent energies.  Disappointed, I headed back up to the house.

Now earlier, I had described our little neighborhood, rather romantically,
as an archipelago.  However, in fact it was a cluster of islands now
connected to the mainland by a series of small bridges.  The muddy area
that the boys were enjoying was along the mainland shore opposite to where
my boat was tied up.  My home was a bit further out from the dock, on the
next island.  Beyond that were a few more islands, each having four or five
small houses.

As I approached the bridge to cross over to the island where my house was,
I saw someone coming the opposite way riding a bicycle.  It was a boy that
I had not seen out here before.  As we passed he smiled and said hello.  I
half waved in surprise at his friendly greeting and smiled back.  Then my
mind registered.  It was one of the boys from the day before ... and he had
a shovel balanced across the handlebars of his bike.  That piqued my
curiosity but I couldn't very well do an about-face and follow as, it
seemed to me anyhow, it would be rather obvious?  So, I ambled on home
wondering where he was coming from and what the shovel was all about.

It wasn't until I stopped to pick up mail, that I had been ignoring for a
couple days, that I noticed one of the mail boxes by the side of the road
had a new name taped on it.  Then it dawned on me; this boy must be in the
new family that I had heard were renting a house on one of the islands
further out.

As I rounded the end of the hedge, by my neighbor's house, she came out to
get her mail.  "Hi Wendy," I waved.  Wendy was the neighborhood source of
information so I added, "I see we have new neighbors.  Have you met them
yet?"

"Hi John," she smiled.  "No, not yet but I know that they're from the city
and have one son, about 12 or so, named Broxton."

"Oh," I tried to sound offhanded.  "I guess it's the boy I just passed on
the bridge then."  I shuffled through my mail and sighed, "well, guess I'll
go pay these bills.  See you." And I went on up to the house.

My mind was running at full speed now, wondering where the lad was going
with the shovel.  Maybe back to the beach?  I couldn't resist my curiosity,
so I put the mail in the kitchen and strolled back down to the dock,
climbing up onto the boat.  I went below where I could look over at the
spot where the boys had been yesterday and not be seen.  Sure enough, there
they were, digging away at the mud.  I watched, standing in the hatchway,
as they eventually waded into the water and lay down on their stomachs with
their heads pointed away from me, towards the shore.  They seemed to
wriggle about under the water a bit and then, not at all to my surprise but
to my delight, a pair of naked boy butts broke the surface.

I watched as they enjoyed themselves with a few minutes of mud
humping. Eventually, they seemed to tire of it and turned around to sit
side by side looking out over the harbor.  I wondered, for a second, if
they could see me and then decided that it was unlikely.  They appeared to
be too busy talking to take notice.  So, I watched and imagined what their
naked bums must feel like sitting in the soft slippery mud.  It got me a
bit excited as it reminded me again of Paul.

It was the mid-eighties and the boy-lover witch-hunt was still a few years
off but I was no longer accepting the favors of boys.  I imagined that my
forty year old body would no longer be attractive to even the most eagerly
interested and horniest of boys, as it had been from the early sixties on.
I do know, however, that boys talk and after the first neighborhood boy or
two had out grown our relationships in the mid-seventies and moved on,
other boys in the area must have heard about me.  Because, soon some found
the courage to show an interest.  They clearly knew of my willingness to
accommodate their curiosities, desires and needs.  As a result, I had a
number of young friends up until 1980 or 1981.  Then the local lads seemed
to steer clear and I had assumed that I was getting older and no longer of
interest to them in that way.

______________________________ Chapter Three - A not so chance meeting

Continuing to watch the boys, they evidently had slipped their swim suits
back up and were now in a vigorous splashing and dunking battle.  So,
hopefully unnoticed by the boys, I climbed back up on deck and headed home.

Over the next weekend I went back at about the same time but without seeing
them again.  I realized, of course, that their timing was related to the
tide which rises and falls later each day.  There was only a relatively
short period of time when the tide was at the right height to play the mud
humping game and it would be a while before it would be right again, at
least on a weekend.  I waited patiently.  Too patiently it turned out, as
my timing proved to be a bit late.

Finally, when I thought the time on the next Saturday would be right, I
headed down to the boat.  This time I had a pair of binoculars slung on a
strap about my neck.  However, as I approached the bridge, I saw Broxton
coming towards me on his bike, again with the shovel.  I could see that his
swim suit and hair were wet and I realized that I was just a bit too late.

I kept walking and, as we got closer, I saw him look at the binoculars
hanging around my neck and then look up at me with a big smile. "Hi.  Nice
binoculars," he said.

I could feel my face go deep red as I stammered back, "Yeah ... ah,
hi. Thanks.  Yeah, they belong on my boat."

He stopped and stood straddling his bike in his wet swim suit, the bits
inside bunched up over the bar and his damply glistening bare smooth tummy
and chest gleaming at me seductively.  "Yeah, that's sure a nice boat you
have.  I've seen you working on it on the weekends."

I could just hear him adding in his mind; "... and perving on me and my
buddy."

I controlled myself and gave a weak thank you in reply.  Then put my foot
in my mouth by adding, "You two seem to enjoy the beach just like I did at
your age."

He looked at me kind of funny and then chuckled to himself.  "Well, it's
getting kind of boring. If you know what I mean."  Then he put one foot up
on one of the pedals of his bike and added, "See ya'."  And off he went.

I turned and watched as he stood on the pedals and pumped with his legs to
gain speed.  His butt flexed seductively in his tight wet swim suit.  Then
he turned to look back and grinned.

I found it difficult to continue the walk down to the boat, what with one
foot in my mouth, a woody in my shorts, and no more reason to go there.  I
felt rather dumb.  Anyhow, I puttered around below decks for an hour or so,
trying to stop kicking myself and then eventually headed back home.

Over the years I'd always been at ease around kids in general and boys in
particular.  The little kidding around, friendly teasing and back and forth
of conversations with boys had always been easy for me.  It never worried
me what they thought, especially if there was a possible naughty meaning.
But this time it was different.  I suppose it might be because I was just
interested in perving and nothing more.  And, perhaps, the embarrassment
that maybe I'd been caught at it.

Once I had crossed the bridge, heading home and rounded the hedge, there
was Broxton sitting cross legged on the ground facing his bicycle.  It was
lying on the ground and he was thumping it with the side of his fist.  He'd
obviously been home, changed and was heading out again when something must
have happened.  As I got closer I could see that he wore tight blue jean
cutoffs and a too small white T-shirt.  It was hard not to look down
instead of at his face, but I did notice the telltale smudges of recently
wiped away tears on his cheeks.

"Hey!  You okay?" I asked as I walked up.

He sighed with a hitch to his breath like he'd just stopped crying, "Yeah.
I didn't fall or nuthin'.  It's just this damn chain on my bike.  It keeps
coming off and making me so mad."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled. "I can see how that'd piss you off."

He looked up with a faint smile like he was thinking; "... cool, he said a
bad word in front of me."

"Maybe it just needs an adjustment to tighten it," I added.

He looked frustrated again. "I tried but I'm not too good at that stuff."
After a brief hesitation, he looked up at me and added, "Can you try?"

I'd now completely forgotten the embarrassing reason I'd been beating
myself up before and was just happy to maybe help the handsome youngster
out.

"Well, let's see if I have any tools in the garage that will do it."
Pointing towards my house, I added, "I live right there."

"I know," he said as he got up and righted his bike.

The chain dragged on the ground as he walked it along with me, so he
stooped over and looped it over the sprocket to get it out of the dusty
road.  His tight cutoffs nicely showed off his bum and I was amazed, and
perhaps just a little disappointed, that they didn't split.

He looked up at me, "I'm Broxton, by the way."

"I know."  I chuckled as he looked surprised.  I held out my hand.  "You
can call me John.  All the kids do.  Being called mister makes me feel
old."

"You're not old." He said as he shyly looked down at his feet.

"Well, I'm 41." I declared.  "But I'm young at heart."  Then, I chuckled
again.  "How old are you?"

He smiled again.  He was quite handsome when he smiled. "I just turned 13
this month!"

"Well, then, happy birthday!" I tousled his hair. "If today was your
birthday I'd have to take you over my knee and give you a birthday
spanking."

He grinned back, "It wouldn't hurt and I wouldn't mind because you're nice.
My friend says all the kids in the neighborhood think you're okay."

I was a bit taken aback by this.  It was nice to hear but a bit
disconcerting to think that I was being talked about.  Or should I say,
still being talked about and, how was I to know just what else besides my
being nice was covered in that talking.

"Well, young man, that's nice to hear.  Okay, here we are."  I smiled and
changed the direction of the conversation. "Let's see what I can find in
the garage."

I rummaged around a bit, being sorely disorganized as far as tools were
concerned.  Eventually I found what I needed and shortly the chain was
tightly back in place and working nicely.  I added a couple squirts of oil
and pronounced the operation a success.

"There ya' go me bucko, all tight and well lubricated."  I smiled inwardly
at my own personal double meaning to that.

"Gee thanks," he beamed.  "My dad's no good at this stuff and besides, he's
never around anyway."

"Well, I'm glad to have helped."  I patted his shoulder as we walked back
out of the garage.  "If it acts up again don't be afraid to come knock on
my door.  You're always welcome."

I watched as he climbed on his bike, waved good-bye and pedaled off with
his buns flexing ... left ... right ... left ... and so on as he rode out
of sight around the hedge.

_________________________ Chapter Four - The lad's approach

The very next day I was down on my boat at just the right time to see
Broxton walk down the beach with his friend.  They didn't go in the water
but stood there talking animatedly and waving their arms at each other.
Then the other boy seemed to stomp away as if he were mad about something.
Broxton turned and walked slowly back up the beach, scuffing at the sand
with his foot like something was bothering him as well.

Once he was out of sight I went back to what I was doing.  A short time
later I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up.
There was Broxton, just standing there, barefoot and wearing just a swim
suit, in all his summer tanned beauty, but for the hangdog expression on
his face.  He was a ruggedly good looking slim lad of maybe 5 feet in
height and 90 or 100 pounds.  He had wavy dark blond hair and deep brown
eyes with long lashes.  Like a puppy, his feet were ahead of the rest of
him in growth but all in all, he was a real pleasure to the eyes.  All he
needed was a smile.

I spoke up, "Hey Broxton, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nuthin'," he sighed. "My friend had to go home."

I tried to lift his spirits. "Well, don't just stand there kiddo, brush the
sand of your feet and come on aboard and I'll show you around!"

He made a good effort at getting the sand off his feet and climbed on deck,
seeming to brighten up as I gave him the grand tour.  As he loosened up he
began to ask questions about how the rigging worked and what all the parts
were called.  When I showed him below into the cabin he was amazed that she
could sleep five people and even had a kitchen and bathroom ... a galley
and a head, I corrected him with a chuckle.  We sat down in the cabin and I
gave him a soda as I grabbed one for myself from the ice box.

"This is sooooo cool John.  What's it like to go sailing?" He asked.

"Well, why don't we go talk to your folks and we'll all go for a sail next
weekend?"

"Nah," he sighed.  "My mom would be afraid she'd break a nail and my dad
would probably just get seasick."

"Oh, well, ask 'em if you can go out with me one day then?  I'll come over
and meet 'em.  I should introduce myself and welcome them to the
neighborhood anyway."

"Cool." I got the smile I was looking for.  "That would be great and
they'll say it's okay.  They don't much care what I do, where I go or with
who, just so long as I don't get into trouble."

Then he looked down at his feet and mumbled, "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure.  Shoot."

"Well, the other day you said that I seemed to be enjoying the beach just
like you did at my age.  Did you see ... I mean, well ..."  He kept
studying his bare feet and began to blush.  It was so cute.

I spoke softly to not make it more uncomfortable for him.  "You mean, do I
know what you were up to?"

He gave a little hesitant nod without looking at me.

"Yes, I know and I don't think there's anything wrong with it.  It's
natural for you to be curious and try stuff like that."

He still didn't say anything and continued to look down.

I laughed, thinking out loud. "When I was a kid the best mud for that was
under the pier but it's gone now."

He looked up, "Really?  You did that too?"

I laughed again. "Yup.  Me and my buddy Paul.  But we decided that we might
get bit you know where by a fiddler crab.  Besides, it was too smelly."

"Ouch!" He exclaimed and laughed as he kiddingly covered his crotch with
both hands. "That would sure hurt and yeah, it is pretty gross smelling.
So you just stopped?"  He continued with some curiosity.

Now I realized that I'd opened the door and tried to close it again before
he got too curious. "Well, we found other ways to ... well, ah, have fun."

"Like how?"  He persisted, his curiosity now piqued. "So what did you do?"

"Well, ..." My mind froze and I hesitated as I tried to think of something
to say to divert the conversation.

"Did you do stuff together?" He asked.  "I mean, well, you know, with each
other?" It seemed like an innocent and totally nonjudgmental question.  But
almost enthusiastic.

When I hesitated again and blushed a bit, he looked right at me knowingly
and slowly oozed out the word; "coooooool." Then he frowned. "But Mark
wouldn't do anything like that."

Like an idiot, I suggested, "Why don't you ask him?"

"No way!"  He looked shocked and shook his head. "He's too young, he's only
just 9.  Besides, he'd just blab it all over if I asked him."

Now that hang dog look came back.  I'd made him feel bad again and what's
worse, I'd kept the topic going.  I put my hand on his shoulder.  "I'm
sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel sad again.  But you have made at
least one friend since you moved here.  Maybe you can make others and,
well, who knows."

He shook his head.  "Nah, all the kids in this neighborhood are 14 or older
and girl crazy or 10 and younger and just plain dumb.  Mark is the only kid
I like and I KNOW he would never do anything like that.  He'll just say
it's wrong ..."  He hesitated and blushing, asked, "It is, isn't it?"

I almost choked at the question.  Then I took the middle road.  "Well, some
say it is and some don't.  I think this; how can it be wrong if it's just
the way you are and it doesn't hurt anyone.  I suppose you could say that
it's the way God made you, so how could it be wrong.  I don't know.  It's a
really tough question."

He was getting more upset so I added, trying to appease his frustrations.
"Besides, at your age, curiosity about it is perfectly natural.  And,
there's no rush you know.  You're just 13.  You got time."

But it sounded lame and I said so.  He sniffled.  I felt terrible and slid
my arm around his shoulders to comfort him.  He sniffled again as he buried
his face in the crook of my neck for a moment.  Then he slowly sat back but
didn't look right at me.  "Would you tell me about the stuff you and your
friend did when you were a kid?"

I couldn't say no and wouldn't say yes, so all I could do was offer to
think it over.  "Look, it's getting late.  Why not let me think about that,
okay?  I'm not sure it's a good idea."

In a subdued voice he said, "Okay.  I should get home now anyway."

I closed up the boat and we walked back together not talking.  At the hedge
by my house I stopped and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah."  He sighed. "Thanks.  You're nice.  I'm glad I got to know you."

I smiled.  "Me too.  Now, I'd be happy to take you sailing but I have to
meet your parents and they have to say that it's all right.  Okay?  Have
'em call me or just stop by."  I took his chin in my hand.  "Now, give me a
smile."

He smiled and said, "Okay." His dimples sprung to life and my heart skipped
a beat.

I watched as he turned off and headed further out on the bridge to the next
island and his house.

__________________ Chapter Five - The hook

That evening Broxton's mother came by to meet me.  His father was too busy.
At the door she said she didn't have enough time to come in and chat.  She
seemed more interested in herself than her son but readily approved of his
going sailing with me.  I thought to myself; "at least she cared enough
about him to come and meet me."

The last thing she said though, gave me pause to think.  "Don't let him
wrap you around his little finger.  He's a master conniver.  I'm sure he'll
make a great used car salesman one day."

What a horrible thing to say, I thought.  Not that all used car salesman
are bad but the image she portrayed just wasn't very loving.  At least not
to me.  Why was I always a sucker for attention or love starved boys?

She hurried off after that saying something about having been invited, by
another neighbor, to a ladies' evening tea at the country club.  The only
good thing with that, I thought, was that if they were members maybe
Broxton would make some friends there that were his own age.

The following day, the first day of a week's vacation for me, it dawned
typically hot and humid.  The only relief for this type of weather was out
on the water, sailing.  But, by lunch time, and the third time that I'd
checked, the breeze out there was still nonexistent.  It was a flat calm
and probably would stay that way.  So, the next best thing was to spend the
rest of the day lying on the chaise under the awning on the porch, in just
a swim suit, reading a good book and sipping a cold beer.

I could see the road from where I sat and it wasn't long after lunch that
Broxton came riding in from the mainland on his bike.  I watched as he
passed the mailboxes and was expecting him to turn left, out towards his
home.  Instead, he coasted into my driveway and waved up at me on the
porch.

"Hi. Can I come up there?"

"Sure.  The stairs are around to your right."

There came the soft sound of bare feet on the stairs and then there he was,
a vision in just his swim suit and golden tan.

I smiled and sat up.  "How ya' doin'?"

"Okay."  He came over and sat on one of the deck chairs. "My mom said I
could go sailing."

"Yeah, she came by last evening."

"When do you think we can go?"

"Well, I was hoping to go sailing today to escape the heat but there just
isn't any breeze." I sighed. "Not a ripple."

He sat there quietly for a moment and then, looking at his feet, mumbled,
"Ah, um, did you think about ... you know?"

I knew but had hoped that he'd forgotten, though I realized that wasn't
very likely. "Know what?" I asked lamely, hoping it would put him off.

It didn't. "You know.  The stuff you and your friend did when you were a
kid."

"Oh yeah." I answered, sounding lame to myself as I continued.  "Well, I'm
just not sure it's a good idea that I talk with you about stuff like that.
It's more the responsibility of your parents to talk with you about it.
Besides, they'd not like it if I did."

He looked a bit nervous now but persisted. "They've had the sex talk with
me but I'm just curious about what you did."

There, the real topic was fully out in the open and I was glad to hear that
they cared that much, to at least have "The Talk" with their son.

Now he looked more persistent than nervous. "Besides, they'll never know
you told me."

"Well, I'll know."

"So?" He sounded defiant.

I reached over a patted his knee.  It was warm, smooth and a temptation for
me to keep my hand there.  But I didn't and said, "It's not my place to
tell you about stuff like that."

"But, I'm dying to know.  I can go to the library and look stuff up but I'm
afraid someone there will see.  Please, can't you even tell me one little
thing?"  He pleaded.

I relented, "Okay, I'll tell you the first thing we did.  It wasn't that
big a deal though."

"Cool." He grinned, eagerly.

"Um, okay.  Well, we had smeared each other with the black mud from the
beach and then let it dry on us.  We laughed because we looked like
Aborigines from the Outback in Australia.  I was studying them in school.
Anyhow, we went up to my house and my Mom got angry because we were
tracking dirt all over and stunk like low tide.  We'd not paid it much
attention but it did smell pretty gross."

Broxton wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, my mom has asked me why I smelled so bad
after Mark and I had messed around in the mud."

"Well," I continued, "we went back to the beach and washed all the mud off
but still smelled bad.  So, we decided not to hump the mud anymore."

"Huh?"

I laughed, "that's what we called it, mud humping."

"Oh." He grinned. "So what did you do then?"

"Well, so Paul, my friend, says; 'what else can we hump?' and I just
laughed and said; 'you can hump my dog' and he gave me the finger and said
'I'd rather hump you.'"

"Wow!  Did he?"

I nodded, "We both just looked at each other and silly grins slowly crossed
our faces.  Then Paul pushed me back, climbing on top of me and started
humping.  It wasn't as good as in the mud though, what with our swim suits
on and all, but it was pretty good for the first time."

"Oh wow!  So what was it like?  I mean, could you feel his ... ah, you
know?"  He was kind of bouncing up and down in the deck chair a little in
his excitement.

I looked at him and could clearly see the tent in his lap.  "Yup, we both
could feel the other pressing' against our bellies."

"Oh man."  The boy calmed down a bit and looked thoughtful.  "Mark would
never do that but I wanna know what it feels like."

I didn't know what to say but tried to be understanding. "You'll find
somebody.  I know you're really curious and it's not easy to be patient but
what else can you do?"

Broxton looked like he was trying to decide what to say next.  He seemed
uneasy but then started to say something. "But Mark's brother said you ..."
then his voice trailed off.

That caught me by surprise. "Mark's brother?  He said something about me?
I don't even know him."

The boy looked uncomfortable and didn't respond to my question.

"Broxton.  What did he say about me?" I tried not to sound upset but I had
a feeling that something was up with all this.

He still didn't answer and began to look like he was upset, maybe even
going to cry.

I tried to speak more softly. "Hey, I'm not gonna be mad at you if someone
else said something about me behind my back.  You don't need to tell me.
It's not your fault."  I reached over and patted his knee again.

With that he looked a little calmer.  He nearly whispered, "He said that
one of the older boys had told him that you used to do stuff with him."

"Oh, I see." I sighed. "Kids still talk about me then."

Again he looked close to tears.  "It's just that I thought that you might
still do it if I asked you but I was too scared."  With a bit more courage
he added, "I mean, I'd never tell the other kids or anyone."

That was when I felt the hook bite.  Oh, he may not have been that scheming
and I didn't ask.  But, I feared that if I didn't go along he might tell
Mark's older brother something.  Nothing might happen or, at the least, the
kids would just keep talking and, at the worst, a parent might hear.

I stood up and reached behind the backrest of the chaise, lowering it down
so it was all flat.  Then I stepped over by the lad and held out my hand.

He looked up at me as he took my hand and stood. "What are you doing?"

I backed up and sat on the chaise again, patting the cushion next to me.
He sat down and I put my arm around his shoulder and said, "I'm going to
trust you because I like you."

Then I slid back on the chaise, moved my legs over behind him, lay back and
extended my arms up to him.

"Really?"  He looked both surprised and, well, pleased.  Then, as he looked
at me lying back, a look of uncertainty came over him.  "But I don't know
what to do."

I smiled. "Just come lie down and you'll figure it out."

Then old unconscious memories of snuggling as a little one took over and
after a moment or two of shifting around he was lying on top of me with his
head resting on my shoulder.  He was trembling a little and I remembered
those moments when sexual arousal coursed through me for the first time
like jolts of electric current.  I could feel myself getting hard as I felt
his hardness against me.  We both self-consciously adjusted ourselves.  I
chuckled and he wiggled a bit more nervously.

We were a little tense at first but as we relaxed his knees and lower legs
slipped down on either side of mine.  His breath was catching in his throat
as he hesitatingly slid his hands a little way under my shoulders.  I slid
my arms around him and gently stroked his smooth warm bare back.  He gave a
tremblingly soft moan.

"Comfy?" I quietly spoke into his ear.

"Yeah." His voice was shaky with his excitement.

I whispered in his ear again. "You can hump if you want to."

He didn't answer but made a single tiny gentle movement of his hips.  After
a moment he did it again.  I guess he was comparing it to humping in the
mud.  On his next tentative hump, I gently humped back.  His breath caught
again in his throat but he began a slow continuous humping.  As I
responded, we slowly combined our movements into an easy pleasurable
rhythm.  They were not strong enough to be called thrusts or in any way, as
yet, passionate.  It was more in the way of an exploration of a new
experience for him.

I continued to slowly caress his back.  I wanted to slide my hand down
lower but it was too soon ... if it went that far at all.  I was beginning
to hope that it would.  I was realizing that I was now firmly hooked by
this boy.  But, I would let him go on at his own pace.

____________________ Chapter Six - He reels me in

"Mmmmmmmmm ..." He sighed as I moved my hands over his smooth back.

"Feel good?" I whispered in his ear.

"Yeah," he was almost moaning. "It feels awesome."

After a few minutes he said, "But, it's not as good as the mud. I guess
that's 'cause we pulled our suits down."

I wondered if he was hinting. "Uh huh?" I replied, and waited.

A few moments later he nervously asked. "Can ... can we ... truh, try it?"

I played dumb again. "Huh?  Try what?"

He stopped humping and lifted his head to look at me.  He suddenly seemed
more bold.  "Can we pull our suits down?"

I continued to play dumb, looking around. "Oh.  Ah, well, not out here we
can't."

That kind of disarmed him.  "Huh?"  He looked around kind of like he was
waking up to where he was.  "Oh, ... yeah, ... where then?"

"Let's get up." We slowly got to our feet, both sporting nice sized tents
in our bathing suits.  We looked at each other and he giggled nervously.

"Looks like we were both having fun doesn't it?" I snickered.

He smiled. "Yeah.  Cool."

"C'mon inside."  I took his hand and led him into the living room.  I went
over to the sofa where I sat down.

He sat down next to me. "Can we?  You know.  Do it with our suits off?"

"You sure?" I asked knowing full well that I'd now do whatever he asked.

He stood up. "Yeah."

"Okay." I smiled up at him.

He started fumbling to untie the knot in his suit's drawstring.  "It's
stuck."

I reached up to help untie it and found it easy enough to do so I looked up
at him.  He smiled down at me and asked in a deeper husky voice, "Would you
take my suit off for me?"

I thought to myself, "This boy may or may not know what he's doing but he's
sure reeled me in and landed me."

"Sure." I said.  My hands shook with my own sexual tension now as I reached
up again.  I placed them on his warm soft belly and ran them up his chest
and circled his nipples.  He sighed and shivered as I caressed him.  I
could see his now softened penis begin to rise again and tent out his suit.

I hooked my thumbs in the back of his suit and slid it part way down over
his butt.  My knuckles gently rubbed over its soft roundness.  Then I slid
down the front until it was pushing down his now hard penis.  I slid my
fingers inside and lifted the waistband out so his boner popped up and
softly slapped his tummy.  He giggled excitedly, less nervous now.

I looked at it and then up at him.  "That's a nice one you got there
Broxton.  Something to be proud of."

He giggled again and I restrained myself from touching it or kissing it as
I so much wanted to do.  It was circumcised, about four and a half inches
long and just a bit more than three quarters of an inch thick.  His suit
fell to the floor and he stepped out of it.  As he did his balls, almost
fully descended and seemingly large for a 13 year old, jiggled and his
boner swayed deliciously before my eyes.  But, there wasn't a single hair
in sight.

I almost gave in to temptation but stood quickly instead.  "Your turn," I
declared.

He looked up from staring at his dick, startled. "Huh?"

"You can take my suit off if you want to." I hoped it wasn't to much.

It wasn't.  He reached for my waistband, almost eagerly.  He was nervous
enough to snag my hardon a bit but I gritted my teeth and in a moment we
stood there, both naked, with his boner pointing at the ceiling and my
older one pointing at him.

Not wanting to make it an awkward moment, I sat down on the couch, lay back
and held out my arms.

He looked scared again for a second and then mumbled, "Oh wow!  I'm gonna
be lying on top of you with both of us naked."

Then, kneeling on either side of my legs, he carefully watched as our
boners came together side by side.  Then he lay down on top of me just like
when we were on the porch.  This time he immediately started to erratically
hump me and was trembling all over.

My restraint dissolved and, as we wrapped our arms around each other, I
allowed my right hand to slid down over his left bum cheek and gently
squeeze it.  A long moan of pleasure breathed out of me as our two cocks
rubbed our bellies right next to each other.  I pulled us together tighter.
His breathing came faster.  It was like a flood gate of need had been
opened in him.  He pushed his face into my neck and softly moaned.

We continued like that for a few minutes but I realized that I'd cum soon
and he might not be prepared for something like that.  So, I tried to slow
things down.

I spoke in his ear. "I take it you like this a lot Broxton."

"Oh God yeah." He groaned into my neck which was now slick with his
saliva. "It's so ... so ..."

"Hot?" I offered.

"Oh yeah!  It sure is hot!  Very hot!"

I giggled and stopped pushing up to meet his delicious thrusts.

That had the desired affect and he stopped humping too.  "Why did you stop?
Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no.  You are doing just great but I have to explain something else to
you before ..."

"Before what?" He had lifted his head and was now looking at me with a
combination of worry and expectation, perhaps of some new revelation about
things that Paul and I did together.

"Have you heard the term 'cum' before?"

"Yeah, sure.  But I can't cum yet."  He said with obvious disappointment.

"Sure you can but that's not what I wanted to talk about.  I just wanted
..."

"I CAN!?" He exclaimed, cutting me off.

I laughed, "Sure.  I'll explain that in a second.  I stopped us because I
wanted to find out if you knew about cuming.  If I came I didn't want it to
scare you or something."

"Holy shit! ... Oh, sorry." He look scared for a second.

I chuckled. "That's okay.  I don't mind you swearing.  Just don't do it a
lot and not when anyone else is around."

He looked relieved. "Okay but wow!  You were going to cum?  I was doing it
that good?  That's so fuc ... er, that's so cool.  WAIT!  You said I could
cum?  How?  I've tried jerking off and it feels good but that's all."

He'd rolled off of me with his interest in this exciting new information.
He looked down at my dick, which was still rock hard and dripping pre-cum.
He pointed and asked, "What's that if you didn't cum?"

"It's called pre-cum."

"What's pre-cum?"

"Well, it's the body's natural lubricant.  Touch it and rub it between your
fingers."

"Oh wow, I can touch your boner?"

"Sure." I smiled at his excitement.

He tentatively reached out a finger to the tip of my dick.  He could have
taken some from the small puddle on my stomach but chose to touch my cock.
I liked his courage.

As he touched me my dick throbbed. "Cool." He grinned. "I made your dick
jump." He said this as he tested the slipperiness of my pre-cum between his
fingers.

I waited to see if he tasted it too but the thought didn't seem to occur to
him. "What's it for?" He asked.

"You know how babies are made?"

"Sure."  He looked at me like I was daft.

"Well, it makes things slippery.  A woman also makes a natural lubricant."

"Yuck!" He exclaimed. "Mark's brother says a pussy smells bad."

I cracked up and then he started to giggle too.

"Hey! Can I rub some on my dick?"

"Sure."  I expected him to reach out with his hand again but instead he
slid over me a bit and touched the tip of his boner to mine.  Mine throbbed
and he giggled again.

I smiled. "That felt nice."

"Yeah, to me too." And he rubbed the tips of our cocks together again and
grinned at me.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm ..." I sighed and reached out and caressed his cheek with
the back of my fingers. "You make me feel good."

"Tell me how I can make myself cum.  Oh, and can I see you cum sometime?"
All nervousness was now long forgotten.

I told him I'd be happy to let him watch me cum sometime.  Then I explained
about how a boy can have a dry cum long before he reaches puberty and then,
eventually, shoot sperm.  He was real eager to learn how. "Okay, next time
you try jerking off use something slippery like baby oil or sun tan cream
and think of something that makes you get a boner.  You know, something
that's hot.  Something, that turns you on."

His eyes widened with an idea. "I know, I'll think of us doin' humpin' and
your boner rubbin' against mine.  That's sure hot!"

"Yeah, I think so too."

"You like my boner?  Really?"

"Yup.  And I think you're hot too, all of you." And I reached over and
pulled him down on me again.

"Yeah, let's hump some more.  Maybe you'll cum."

I could feel his cock against my belly right next to mine and it felt so
good.  He kept his head raised and, looking me in the eyes, slowly started
to hump against me.  I smiled up at him, wanting to kiss him.

"How's that?" He asked.

"Very sexy." I replied.

He looked surprised. "You think I'm sexy?"

"Yes, I do.  Very sexy."

"Cool.  I think you're sexy too." Then he rested his head on my shoulder
again but this time trying to still be able to watch my face.

I slipped my hands down his back and held and gently squeezed his buns.
"How's that?" I asked.

"Feels real nice.  I like you feeling me.  Do you like it too."

"Yes, very much."

"Mmmm, I'm glad." He sighed.

After a bit both our breathing had increased and I was getting pretty
worked up.  I couldn't resist and slid my right hand over the crack of his
ass and slipped my middle finger down into it to caress his tight little
hole.  He was so warm down there.

He shuddered. "Oh wow!  That feels awesome."

"Mmmmmm." I sighed. "I like making you feel awesome."

"Do it some more."

I did and pressed a little.  Not enough to enter him but enough to
intensify the feeling and see if he was as sensitive there as many boys
are.

He was and he pushed back against my finger with a husky
grunt. "Ooommpfff."

Then he began to hump me a bit faster and harder and in a few minutes I
whispered urgently in his ear, "I'm close to cuming."

"Oh cool!" He whispered back.

"Keep going just like that and I'm gunna cum."

"'Kay," was his soft reply as he concentrated.  He hugged me tighter.

I was close. "Oh Brox.  Oh, I love it.  Oh God!  Don't stop.  I'm gonna
cum!" And I started grunting with each throbbing shot.  He continued to
push against me as I kneaded his sweet ass with both hands, grunting and
moaning and pushing up to meet his thrusts.

After a moment he raised his head to look down at me with a big grin.  Then
he rested his head on my shoulder again as I slowed my humping and fought
to catch my breath.

It seemed as though he almost instinctively knew to slow down and
eventually stop.  "Wow, it's all wet and slippery down there now.  It feels
so sexy.  That was so cool."

I'd recovered enough to chuckle and said, "No, it was hot."  Then I gave
him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thanks, that was the best cum I've had in
a long time."

"Really?" He gave me a quick look, a broad smile and then, another gentle
hug and lowered his head to my shoulder once more.  "I could do this
forever."  He sighed.

"Me too.  But, I better get us a towel.  Next time I'll be prepared."

We got up trying not to get any cum on the sofa or rug and I got a hand
towel in the bathroom.  I mopped us both up and we pulled on our swim
trunks again.  While we did that we didn't say much but kept glancing at
each other and grinning.  Then I got us a couple of cold sodas and we sat
at the kitchen table nibbling some cookies.

Finally, he shyly asked, "You really mean it when you say next time?"

"Sure," I smiled. "So long as you want to."

"Oh yeah, I sure do!" He exclaimed.  "Can we do it again now?"

I chuckled at his enthusiasm.  "As much as I'd love to kiddo, I need time
to recharge."

He looked both disappointed and confused.  I thought that look was so cute
on him.  So, I took that opportunity to explain the difference between wet
and dry cums and how when a guy has a good wet cum he sometimes needs time
to recover.  On the other hand, he seemed really intrigued with the idea of
multiple dry cums.  I imagined how much fun it would be to bring him to
multiple ones until he begged me to stop.  I wondered if he'd get off with
a blow-job but was too wasted to think about bring it up just then.  Maybe
tomorrow, if he asked to hear more about stuff that Paul and I did.  I
wonder what he'd think if I told him about Paul and me fucking.

He broke my fantasy. "Geez, look what time it is.  I better get home
anyhow.  Do you think it will be windy enough to sail tomorrow?"

"We'll see but maybe if it isn't we can still go out and motor around a
bit."

He seemed to like that idea. "Oh, that could be fun too."

He got up and I walked out with him.  I tousled his hair as I said, "See
ya' Brox.  Okay if I call ya' Brox?"

He beamed. "Yeah.  I liked it when you did just before you ... " He looked
around to see if anyone was near. "You know."

I smiled back. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Me too." He climbed on his bike.

"See ya' tomorrow!" We both called out at the same time.

Then he waved and pedaled off as I watched his sweet bum on that lucky
bicycle seat.

___________________________
Next: Part Two - The lad comes clean
Chapter Seven - A tearful confession