Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2006 02:40:43 EDT
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: games with stefan 14

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  Some of the events and characters are inspired by
actual events and people I encountered in my younger days, but the
presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray
actual, historical persons and events.  It's just a story.

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these at home.

No teen actors were harmed in the writing or reading of this story.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual
acts, please do not read any further.  Why, indeed, have you read this far?


Games With Stefan

by eddyriha

Chapter #14-At Stefan's Family's Cabin

We were sunning ourselves on the grassy bank, below which the Hudson River
eddied idly by, enjoying an afternoon at the cabin Stefan's parents owned
and occasionally shared with family and friends of family.  I guess I fit
in the latter category, and I'm sure my visit this time was thanks for my
parents having watched Stefan a couple weeks earlier, when Stefan's folks
flew to Florida for a funeral.  Of course, if you have read the recent
chapters in the story, you will undoubtedly be aware that my parents did no
such thing.  But neither sets of parents knew about the trickery, and they
never did find out.

So I was lying on a towel adjacent to where my lover lay, each of us in
swimtrunks and wishing we could slip out of them and get down to business.
But his parents were around.  His mother was fussing with something in the
cabin and his father was smoking a pipe down by the dock, where their
outboard was bobbing gently against the current.  Every so often I had to
roll over onto my stomach, as I could feel my dick hardening.  I certainly
didn't want to show a boner in case Stefan's mom or dad happened by when I
was thinking about him behind my closed eyes.

In the distance, I could hear the thump-thump of the boy at the neighboring
cabin, who was bouncing a basketball on the paved court his parents had
erected on the far side of their camp.  Matt was a twelve-year-old who
always seemed to be dirty, who sniffled nearly every time he inhaled, and
who seemed always to be underfoot whenever Stefan and I wanted to do
something by ourselves.  At least the basketball occupied some of Matt's
energies, or we'd never have had this time to lie in the sun, in peace.

In my daydreamy mood, I heard the cabin phone ring, then Stefan's mom yell
out to her husband down at the dock.  He came running up to the cabin, then
in a moment sauntered back down to where Stefan and I lay in the sun.

"Your mom and I need to go out for awhile," he said to Stefan.  "Your
grandmother has slipped and injured her hip, and she wants us to take her
to get an x-ray."

"Is it serious?" Stefan mumbled his question.  I could tell he was just
waking up.

"I hope not.  But better safe than sorry.  We'll be gone awhile, maybe a
couple of hours.  Will it be OK if we leave you two here while we're gone?"

"I guess so," Stefan said, opening his eyes and looking at me.  I could
tell he was trying not to sound too excited by the prospect of having the
cabin all to ourselves for an afternoon.  No sense in triggering the
parental suspicion radar.  Not when we were this close to an afternoon of
more games.

"There's food and sodas in the fridge if you get hungry," his father said.
"And we'll be at Samaritan Hospital if you need to reach us."

As soon as the tires of their station wagon crunched off the gravel drive
and onto the county road out front, we were running toward the cabin,
towels in hand.  Stefan reached the door first and slammed it open before
darting inside and running up the stairs two at a time.  The room where we
were headed was the "second floor," a kind of undivided attic that nestled
under the roof.  It was open at the one end, with only a railing separating
the attic from the living room on the ground floor.  Because his parents
slept in the bedroom on the floor directly below our beds, we couldn't do
much of anything when they were there, even if they were sleeping.  The
attic floorboards creaked too loudly, and the wire springs in the bed
frames squeaked at every movement.  So this would be our one chance to play
a game while his folks were gone.

I had caught up to Stefan by the time he reached the beds, but I skidded to
a halt behind him when I realized what he had in mind.  He threw off the
mattress from his bed, then lay down on the wire-spring bed frame,
stretching his arms and legs, each toward a corner of the frame.  I didn't
need any special invitation: I knew what he needed.  At a motion of my
hand, he began shedding his clothes: sneakers, socks, and shorts went
flying in every direction.  In a moment, Stefan had resumed his prone
position on the bed frame, this time fully naked.

Reaching into my duffel bag, I retrieved the cords I'd brought on this
visit to the cabin, "just in case."  A full-length rope would have raised
questions, had Stefan's parents seen it.  However, cords like these, in red
and navy, could be easily explained in a number of ways, including, "They
are extra shoelaces."  After all, Chuck Taylors need extra long
laces. . . .  Anyway, I pulled Stefan's left wrist over his head and tied
it as close to the upper left corner of the bed frame.  Then I grabbed his
right hand and did the same with it.  Then came his left ankle, then his
right one.  He bucked a little, testing the cords, but his limbs were
secured.  He could not move much at all, just lifting his ass an inch off
the springs.

I reached into the duffel bag again.  Because we weren't at my house, or
even at Stefan's, my options were limited.  But I had planned ahead enough
for this game.  Out of the bag I drew a bottle of baby oil.  Stefan's eyes
lit up when he saw it.  He tried lifting his dick toward me, but I wasn't
having any of it.

"Down, boy!" I commanded.  "You are at my mercy."

He started to protest, so I stuffed both his socks into his mouth.  I
pretended to be angry, and he immediately lowered himself back on the
springs.  When I was angry, or when I even appeared to be, he knew better
than to do anything to piss me off.

"You seem to have a problem, boy," I said in my angry voice.  "You seem to
think the world revolves around you getting your dick stroked.  Well, I'm
gonna teach you a lesson you won't soon forget."

I took one of the red cords and tied it around his dick and balls, as tight
as I dared without cutting off circulation.  Of course, his dick sprung to
attention as I did, but it had to sit there, fully erect, as I finished the
knot.  Stefan's eyes implored me to do something to help him come off, but
I ignored the silent plea.

Instead, I began at his feet.  I squirted some baby oil on the sole of his
left foot and began massaging it, rubbing it, even tickling it.  He
squirmed and bucked against the cords, against the bed frame.  But he could
do nothing to keep me from doing whatever I wanted.  I then massaged his
right foot, then slid my oily fingers up the hairless calf, working the oil
into the taut muscle.  My fingers roamed around his thigh, over his
hamstrings, his quads, tickling that hollow spot behind his knee.  As soon
as I reached his hip, I switched back to his left leg and worked my way
upwards.  Once I reached his hip, I moved toward his head and began
massaging his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

I had just begun massaging Stefan's right nipple, when I heard a
clump-clump of footsteps on the back porch.  Stefan and I looked at each
other in horror-had his parents returned already?  I peeked out the front
window.  No, their car was nowhere in sight.  A voice called in through the
screen door, "Stefan?  Eddy?  You guys home?"  It was Matt, the annoying
twelve-year-old from the cabin next door.

Neither of us moved.  While there was no way Matt could see us in our
upstairs "room," we both realized that, in our haste to begin our game,
we'd left the back door unlocked, a fact it took the kid all of thirty
seconds to discover.  "Hey, guys, no fair," he called out.  "I know you
guys are here.  Come on out and stop hiding."

I breathed to Stefan, "What shall we do?"  I moved to remove his arm
restraints.

He shook his head.  Then he rolled his eyes toward the stairs.  I knew what
he meant.  Since I was still clothed, I could go downstairs and send the
kid away.

So I quietly went down the stairs, meeting Matt just as he started across
the living room toward the stairs.  He had correctly guessed that was where
we'd be, as his cabin had a similar layout, and he too was obliged to sleep
in the converted attic.

"I knew you guys were here," he said in an exultant voice.  "You guys were
just hiding on me."

"Shhh!"  I whispered.  "Stefan's not feeling too well, so he's lying down
until his parents come back."

"Oh," Matt said, disappointed.  "I was hoping you guys would want to shoot
some hoops."  Then his face brightened.  "Well, maybe you can join me."

My dick almost withdrew within itself at that thought.  While Stefan was
lying upstairs, completely at my mercy, I would go next door and shoot a
basketball with a kid who didn't know how to keep his hands clean?  He
chewed his fingernails, but at the same time, his hands seemed to acquire a
daily compounding of dirt and grime.  And wherever he wiped his hands on
his face, dark smudges were left behind.  The kid's parents clearly didn't
pay enough attention to him, or else they didn't care that he was a living,
breathing germ factory.

"Nah," I replied.  "I need to stay here, in case he needs anything.  Plus,
I'm not sure but that I'm not feeling too well either."

"Oh," was all Matt said.  Then he breathed in a sigh and-"What's that I
smell?  Baby oil?" he asked loudly.

Oh, shit.  The kid could actually smell the baby oil over all of the dirt
which stained his fingers and smudged his face?

"What are you guys up to?" he demanded.

I was trying to come up with an explanation, but before I could say
anything, Matt darted past me and raced up the stairs.  I was only a step
or two behind him, but his head start meant that I caught him just as he
reached the top step.  And then it was too late.  He saw, in one glance,
Stefan's helpless position-naked, tied down, glistening with baby oil,
gagged with his own socks.

"Holy shit!" Matt exclaimed as I grabbed him from behind.  "What kind of
shit are you two doing?"

The Master part of me was taking control even as I fought off panic in an
effort to salvage the situation.  "It's part of our games, which are more
interesting and more exciting than a stupid game of hoops."

"What kind of game is it?"

"It's a game in which you do everything I say, no matter what you think
about it.  And if you don't obey me, you get punished."

"What do you mean, 'punished'?"

"I mean, you get what Stefan has right now.  Or worse."

Matt's voice trembled.  "I'm not sure-"

"You seemed very sure a moment ago when you came running up here, inside a
cabin that's not yours.  You made yourself a part of this game, whether you
like it or not.  And now you have to face the consequences."

He was trembling, about to break into tears.  "I didn't know, I didn't
know-"

"No excuses, boy.  Now what will it be?  Will you obey me?  Or do I have to
begin your punishment immediately?"

"I don't know."  Matt looked from me to Stefan, who was clearly shaking
with suppressed laughter.  Except Matt thought that Stefan was as
frightened as he was.  "Is it safe?" he asked.

"No, it's not safe.  Nothing is ever safe.  But I will keep you from being
hurt any more than necessary.  You may feel pain, but it will be over
before it becomes too much pain."

One by one his objections were falling to the side.  One last objection to
go: "Isn't this kind of gay?"

"No, it's not 'kind of gay,'" I answered truthfully, albeit meaning
something much different than Matt thought.  This wasn't simply 'kind of
gay,' it was full out gay.  But Matt thought I was saying that this wasn't
gay at all.  Which was fine by me, as his shoulders slumped and he said,
"OK, what do I do now?"

"Good boy," I replied.  "The first thing you must do is strip."  When he
hesitated, I said, "That means 'take off your fucking clothes.'"  I made my
voice sound angry enough that he immediately complied, his hands shaking as
he shucked off his shirt, sneakers, and shorts.  He stood before me in his
dirty white briefs and even dirtier white tube socks.  "I said 'take off
all your fucking clothes,'" I practically shouted.  "What the fuck do you
mean by keeping anything on?"  I was now fully in control, as Matt
whimpered a "Sorry, Sir," as he slid the undies down and pulled off his
socks.

Matt's body, now fully revealed to me, had a creamy whiteness in every
place that his clothes had hidden.  He was a little soft in the belly, and
he had some dark public hair which was several shades darker than his
tousled dark brown locks.  His feet were a little dirty, his nails neither
trimmed nor clean, but he stood solidly.  What was even more impressive was
his four-inch dick, which looked more developed and mature than Stefan's.
In fact, I imagined that Matt would already be able to shoot spunk, though
I doubted he was aware of that fact yet.  But, if I had my way, he would
learn it soon enough.

As soon as he realized I was staring at his erect dick, Matt instinctively
covered it with his hands.  "Hands back!" I commanded.  "Under no
circumstances are you to cover your dick."  The hands were withdrawn at
once, his arms hanging slack at his sides.

"Turn around!" I commanded again.  Slowly, he shuffled his feet until his
back was toward me.  His ass was a bit larger and rounder than I expected,
mostly because he spent most of the nonsummer months sitting on it, I
guessed.  Still, it was a pleasant enough ass, and I would find a use for
it before our game was over.

"Now this is what you are going to do," I said as I led the still-trembling
boy over to the bed frame.  "Take this oil," and I handed him the bottle,
"and I want you to rub it into Stefan's chest here and here," and I pointed
to the spots that I had not yet covered.  "More vigorously," I said as I
watched him tentatively rub a little oil around Stefan's skin.  "Do it like
you mean it."

While Matt fell into a kind of awkward rhythm massaging Stefan's chest, I
stepped to the back of the room and quietly removed my own clothes.  After
seeing Matt's naked body and then his first efforts at rubbing Stefan, my
erection was straining to burst free of my shorts.  I needed some relief
and soon.  But first, I had to see the game through.

I prodded Matt up onto the bed, where he kneeled beside Stefan.  He was now
rubbing the oil into Stefan's lower abdomen, causing the bound boy to
wriggle and squirm, testing the tautness of the cords even more than
before.  Matt kept looking up at Stefan's face, observing the expression in
his eyes, but he didn't hesitate a moment in his obeying my orders to keep
rubbing.

"OK, that's enough there," I said.  "Now comes the most important part."  I
picked up the bottle of baby oil and said to Matt, "Hold out your hands."
He cupped them together, palms upward, and I squirted some of the oil on
them.  "Now rub them together," I told him.  In a moment his palms were
thoroughly oiled.  Most of the engrained dirt was gone from his fingers by
then, much of it being left behind, mingled with the oil on Stefan's
stomach.

"Now take hold of Stefan's dick," I said.

"Are you sure this isn't gay?" Matt asked, his eyes looking up at me,
hoping I'll relent and let him out of this order.

"What did I tell you before?"

"I know.  But I've never-I've never-"

"You've never touched a dick before?"

Matt nodded, as he bit his lower lip.

"Not even your own?"

"Well, I do touch my dick, when I pee."

"You mean to tell me you never touch your dick for any other reason?"  I
have to admit that at this point in my life I hadn't done much touching of
my own dick.  When you have a lover who wants nothing more than to give you
pleasure, and whose pleasure is your main objective too, then you never
have a need to master the art of masturbation.

"Not really.  My mama says it's bad to do it."

I don't have to guess what she'd say about him touching another boy's dick.
But I was in control here.  "If you touch another boy's dick like this,"
and I showed Matt how to wrap his oily fingers around Stefan's shaft. "then
you are making him feel good.  And it is a good thing to help your friends
feel good, right?"  Not exactly the best psychology, but it had to serve
for the moment.

"I guess so."

"OK, then, now move your hand up and down, like this," and I showed him how
to slide his fist up and down Stefan's cock.  "That's it, you're doing
fine," I commented, as Matt's stroke became less awkward and more natural.
Stefan, of course, was already highly excited, but he couldn't head into an
orgasm because I'd tied his dick and balls with a cord.

"Hold on a sec," I said, as I reached down to untie the cord.  Matt had
been jerking Stefan for about ten minutes by now, and I could see my
lover's eyes were watering as he was desperate to come.  Only a few strokes
after I released his dick, Stefan suddenly raised his ass off the bed frame
and began jerking and trembling, his dick bouncing in Matt's oily fist.
Nothing came out, but then again, nothing ever came out of Stefan when he
had an orgasm.

"Wow, what was that?" Matt gasped as he let go of Stefan's still twitching
cock.

"That was cumming," I said.  "That's about the nicest thing you can do for
a friend."

"Wow, that was something else.  Can I have that happen, too?"

"Not yet.  There's more to the game first.  You have to help me out, and
then I'll take care of you."

He looked up at me, then down at my five-inch erection.  He was about to
put his oily fingers on it, but I said, "Not your fingers.  Your lips."

"Huh?"

"Kiss my dick, boy."  My voice sounded stern and forceful.  "Kiss it on the
head."

Matt closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and planted a quick, dry kiss on
the mushroom head of my cock.

"Again," I said.  "Kiss it like you mean it."

With still-closed eyes, Matt kissed the head, staying in contact longer.  I
pushed the head against his lips, and they automatically parted.  I slipped
it in before he knew what was happening.  When he tried to pull away, I
caught the back of his head and held it in place.

"It's OK, boy," I said.  "This is another part of the game."

Matt mumbled something.

"Just remember to use your lips and tongue, but no teeth."

He mumbled something else.

"If you use teeth, I will have to hurt you.  I will put you where Stefan is
now, and I'll leave you there all night.  And Stefan and I will do all
kinds of things to you."  Actually, that wasn't a bad thought, but
unfortunately, keeping Matt all night was not a real option.  But he didn't
know that. . . .

He slurped and sucked on my cock, drooling all the while because he wasn't
probably used to anything that size in his mouth, so he didn't know how to
make a seal with his lips to keep the saliva from trickling down his chin.
His tongue also seemed kind of clueless about where to go, how to stroke
the cock in his mouth.  I tried giving him directions, but he seemed to be
most uncoordinated, orally speaking.

After a few minutes, I pulled my cock out of his mouth and announced, "This
isn't working.  You are not very good at this, boy."  I made my voice sound
angry.

"I'm sorry, sir.  I've never done this before.  I'm not sure what I'm
doing."

That's for sure, I thought to myself.  I could tell Stefan was laughing
silently behind his gag.

"It's OK, this time," I said.  "But there's another part of the game we can
play.  If you are grown up enough, that is."

That's the kicker for any boy between twelve and eighteen.  Suggest he's
not grown up enough for something, and he'll protest that he most certainly
is grown up.  You can get him to jump off a cliff, if you convince him it's
the grown up thing to do.  Not that I would do that-it would be a waste to
treat any boy that way.  But no matter.  As soon as I suggested he might
not be grown up enough for the next game, Matt insisted effusively and
loudly that he was indeed grown up enough and was ready for whatever I
wanted to play.

"OK, if you insist," I replied.  "Bend over."  I guided him into place, so
that he was kneeling between Stefan's legs, and his hands were resting on
the springs on either side of Stefan's torso.  I knelt on the bed frame
behind Matt and squirted some of the baby oil on his ass.  I massaged his
cheeks gently, then probed a finger inside.

"Owww!" he gasped.  "That hurt."

"I thought you wanted to play the grown up game."

"Is this the grown up game?"

"Oh," he said.  There was a pause.  "Will it hurt?"

"It always hurts some the first time.  But I'll be as gentle as possible."

Another pause.  "If you promise it won't hurt too much, I guess it's OK."

I inserted my finger again, this time more gently.  "Is that better?"

Matt nodded.

I then inserted a second finger, slowly and carefully, then a third.  He
gasped a little at that, but I could tell he was trying his best not to
protest, lest I consider him a crybaby or something like that.

I pulled my fingers back and he breathed a little easier.  I rubbed a
little of the oil on my cock, which was already leaking a little precum.  I
wouldn't need to be inside him very long before I came-that was for sure.

I placed the head against his hole and prepared to push in.  But at the
first contact, Matt flinched and shifted forward slightly.  I realized this
arrangement wasn't going to work.  His hands and feet were free to move,
and that would possibly create a problem when I began fucking him.  So I
reached behind me and selected a couple of unused cords.  I slipped one
around his right wrist and tied it to the springs to the right side of
Stefan's head, then did the same to his left hand.  Matt didn't say
anything; he saw the position Stefan was in and assumed correctly that
bondage was part of this new game.

I next tied Matt's legs to the springs, just below the spot where Stefan's
crotch spread apart.  I secured Matt by his knees, as he was kneeling
there.  I wanted to make sure his ass stayed where it was, in the air, with
Matt's upper body stretched out over Stefan.  The result was that Matt's
ass was pointed directly toward my waiting cock.  And I wasted no time in
gripping the boy by the hips and slowly, gently, sliding my dick inside
him.

Matt gasped loudly, and I thought at first he would protest.  But he didn't
say anything.  I leaned over him, kissed the back of his neck, and nibbled
the back of his right ear.  "You're doing great, Matt," I whispered to him.
"You're being so grown up."

I reached around to grasp his erect cock and steady myself as I began to
move forward and backward gently, thrusting my cock deeper each time I
pushed forward into his ass.  At the same time, I was stroking his cock
with my fist, feeling the blood surging into his erection.  His breathing
became shallow as I fucked him faster and faster and as I jerked him
tighter and tighter.  I finally knew I was about to come, and so I forced
myself as deep into him as I could, my balls slapping his asscheeks.  I
erupted inside him and let out a yell simultaneously, as his cock also
began bucking and twitching in my hand.  I felt his hot cum burst out past
my fingers and splatter onto Stefan's belly.  As my orgasm subsided, I
collapsed onto Matt, driving him down onto Stefan.  For awhile we three lay
there, Matt sandwiched in between his new fuck buddies.

After a few minutes, I climbed off the bed and untied the two boys, giving
each a deep kiss, showing Matt how it was done.  Then I had Matt kiss
Stefan, and the two seemed about to embark on some new game between them,
until we heard Matt's mother calling him to dinner.

"Bummer," Matt said as he scrounged for his clothes.  "I was just starting
to have fun."

Stefan reminded him that these were our games and therefore our secret.  He
nodded.  I don't think Matt would have told anyone in his family.  If they
let him go around all summer with dirty hands and uncut toenails, they
certainly wouldn't care what kinds of games he and his friends played.  As
Stefan and I dressed in our shorts and went downstairs, we watched the
receding figure of the neighbor boy as it disappeared around the corner of
the next door cabin.

"That was fun," I said to Stefan.

He smiled.  "I'm going to have to find an excuse to get him alone to play
some more games later in the summer."

"Too bad I can't be here to share in the fun."

"Oh, don't worry.  I'll be sure to tell you everything that happens."

I slapped Stefan on his bare back.  "But first things first.  You've got to
jump in the river and wash some of that oil off.  Or what's your mother
gonna say?"