Date: Sat, 3 Jun 2000 12:19:30 EDT
From: Savage8818@aol.com
Subject: Edge of Town - Chapter 1

This novel is a work of fiction and within the story,
involves relationships between an adult and teenage
boys. If you are a minor and should not be reading
this, please leave the site now.  If you are an adult
that is repulsed by this type of relationship, there
are other stories that may better suit your tastes and
you should leave now.

Names, characters, places and incidents are products
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.



THE EDGE OF TOWN


CHAPTER 1

	The early April sun beamed brightly in the late
afternoon sky. Its invisible fingers played with the
white, plastic thermometer, which hung on the outside
molding of the two-car garage. It pushed the red
solution inside of it so that it read seventy-degrees.
Mother Nature liked to watch her children play these
tricks with the weather. On April fool's day, winter
strolled in from the arctic north and brought with her
the very cold air. As she unzipped the dark, puffy
clouds from her perch, she laughed as she spilled
their contents to earth, dumping twelve inches of
heavy snow on this small New England town. Her
brother, spring, was angry because she infringed on
his time. It was his turn to visit New England and he
fought tumultuously with his sister. For two days, the
battle raged on, with each of them gaining some ground
and then relinquishing it. Spring finally succeeded in
chasing his sister away and began to breathe warmth
into the air. Now it was time to clean up the mess she
had left and with the help of the sun, he began
melting the white, crystalline snow.
	Kyle Ross couldn't remember an April battle
between the seasons that had started out this way.
Although he was just fourteen years old and could only
remember the last seven years with clarity, he had
always remembered April to be cold and rainy. It
seemed that the harsh winter always fought to stay
around and would forever battle with spring. Moreover,
for the last few years, spring remained in hiding. It
wasn't until summer finally arrived from his trip down
south and had come to the rescue sometime in May, that
the weather got warmer. Winter was very persistent and
it took much prodding to convince her to give up her
hold on the land.
	For whatever the reason, he cherished this early
touch of spring fever. Although the evening would
bring cooler temperatures, it was the perfect weather
to begin the camping season. The warmer air and the
remnants of the piles of snow would cause the fog to
crawl in tonight and invade his activities. He hoped
that it wouldn't dampen the festive atmosphere of this
first night of camping and he hoped that it would not
unsettle his friends into having a loathsome evening.
	Last fall, he and his friends decided to create a
wilderness getaway. They searched the woods until they
found a spot that would be just right. It was back
breaking work turning that brush-filled clearing into
a campsite. There was a lot of cutting, raking,
digging, and hauling. Then there was the firewood. His
father had taken him to the paper mill in Irwing and
there, they collected broken pallets. They brought
them home and in one afternoon, he and his friends cut
them up and lugged them out to the site. They covered
the pile with a piece of plastic to keep them dry and
ready for use.
	Although the site was not too far from the house,
it was far enough to offer them a flavor of being in
the wilderness and a chance to tell stories, toast
marshmallows and listen to music around the campfire.
Camping took him away from his impish little brother
and out of the sight of his prying parents. Yes, they
all meant well and he guessed that some attention is
better than none at all. He was glad he had two
parents who loved him and his little brother wasn't
always a pain. Eric was fun to be with some of the
time and he enjoyed teaching his brother about stuff.
Of course, he would never admit that to anyone. Around
his friends, he wanted privacy so they could talk
about girls, music, or anything else that they all
felt was important at the time. Kyle doubted that his
feeling for men and boys would ever be spoken, but he
could always hope that somehow, a situation would
arise and his passion for sucking cock would be
discovered.
	His medium-length, auburn brown hair was now damp
and his muscular torso bulged as he descended the
creaky, wooden ladder and brought the last of the gear
down from the loft in the garage. Reaching the bottom
rung, he tossed the musty, red, nylon sleeping bag
into the heap where his blankets and pillows lay. The
faint sound of some undecipherable song sailed upon
the April breeze and glided over the sounds of the
late afternoon choir of birds, who were singing their
medley of chirps, whistles and calls. He knew the
music was coming from the Compact Disc player that his
friend Jared never left home without. Matt and PJ were
with him and soon, they would arrive. All of them were
all excited about the evening that they would spend in
his backyard campsite. They had prepared for months,
keeping their gear ready for the first warm day.
Camping to a country boy was like breathing - it was
just a natural thing to do.
	He paused for a moment, pulled at his sweat
soaked T-shirt, adjusted his semi-hard cock in his
shorts, and looked to the sky to drown himself in the
cloudless ocean of blue. The smell of the crisp, fresh
spring air caressed his nostrils and his freckled face
relaxed as he took in deep, intoxicating breaths of
this natural elixir. He put his hands on his bony hips
and watched a Robin hobble on his front lawn. A smile
painted his lips as he watched the bird drive its beak
into the muddy earth. When it returned to its original
position, a juicy earthworm wiggled in its lemon-
yellow beak and the chestnut-brown bird with the
rusty-orange breast gobbled it up.
	"I've got a worm for ya," he said softly as he
cupped his balls and cock in one hand and took hold of
his hot flesh. He remembered how gross it was to eat
worms. When he had taken a survival course at the YMCA
last summer, he and his friends had shuttled off to a
remote location and were taught how to survive in the
wilderness. When their traps and snares hadn't caught
anything the night before, they all had to come up
with creative ways to find a meal for breakfast. His
instructor gathered them all together and showed them
some of the more creative foods that Nature's menu had
to offer. When the instructor held up a worm and
popped it in his mouth, Kyle had trouble thinking
about doing that. He kept telling himself, just think
about spaghetti. Just pop it between your lips and
suck it in.
	Courageously, he grasped the dark brown wiggling
object between his fingers, hesitantly placed it
between his lips, and sucked it in. He felt a chaffing
on his lips as the stiff bristles along the worm's
body rubbed against them. It wriggled as it slid down
his throat and he could picture it slithering down and
making its way into his stomach. Not that this was bad
enough. The grit from the dirt lingered in his mouth
and the constant gristle in his teeth served as a
terrible reminder of this awful snack. This spaghetti
he didn't like and he hoped that he wouldn't ever have
to do that again.
	He couldn't shake the YMCA trip from his mind. It
wasn't the only snack that he tasted that week. He and
Brett, the 18-year-old instructor, had shared a meal
of a different sort. It happened by accident but Kyle
was glad that it did. At 13, he had found that when
rubbing his small, hairless boymeat, he would suddenly
get a feeling that would take over his whole being.
His muscles would convulse, tense up and a surge of
pleasure would pulse through his body and erupt
through his penis. With each spasm of his four-inch
cock, the feelings would send his mind into ecstasy
and he kept pulling on the stiff meat until the
feelings subsided.
	One day, white cream shot from his piss-slit, and
the feelings were multiplied by ten-fold. As his boy
juices gushed from his stiff rod, his knees bent
slightly as they seemed to melt beneath him. Thank
goodness, he always had his fun while lying down in
his bed or in the bathroom.
	It was on this camping trip one night that he
suddenly got the urge to jerk off. He nimbly slinked
from the tent and found a large pine tree, several
yards from the camping site. As he slipped the size 14
shorts from his waist and exposed his boyhood to the
damp, warm July air, the small two-inch snake began to
pulse and grow hard. With a few rubs from his hand,
his cock filled itself with the blood that pulsed
through his excited body and stiffened the rod into a
hard, throbbing mass of silky flesh. The mushroom head
swelled with each touch and as he rubbed the swelling
cock head, he felt the tingles of pleasure surge
through his being as he touched the sensitive organ.
	He felt safe behind the tree and began to stroke
his cock with a slow rhythm. He wanted to experience
the pleasure for a long time and didn't want it to end
quickly, so he took his time and rubbed ever so
slowly. He lost touch with his surroundings and let
his mind drift to fantasyland, picturing the boys in
his gym class, showering all naked together. He
wondered if other boys found out about this pleasure
and what it would be like to watch others pound their
boners and cum off.
	As he was immersed in his ritual, he didn't hear
the crackling of sticks and the soft footsteps
approaching him from behind. He reeled in delight as
the precum exuded from his swollen glans and
lubricated his strokes. With his eyes closed and
leaning against the hard bark of the pine tree, he
increased his movements ever so slightly as the
feelings began to form in his smooth, hairless nut
sack.
	"Can I help you with that?" a voice beckoned from
within the night.
	Kyle opened his eyes and froze, like a deer
caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
"Ah...um...err...."
	"Don't worry, dude," Brett smiled. "It's cool."
	Kyle felt his cock shrivel up in his hand. His
heart raced as fear pulsed through his body. He felt
embarrassed. A stranger invaded upon a private moment
between him and his young body.
	"Dude, I do it all the time," Brett assured him.
"It's a part of growing up."
	Kyle somehow settled his mind and came to his
senses. He had gotten over the initial shock of being
discovered and now looked at the tall and lanky, older
teen that stood before him. The sweatpants that Brett
wore were snug and now, the outline of a well-defined
boner appeared from within the fabric. He was rubbing
his bulge through the material as he smiled. "You do?"
	"Yeah, all the time.... Sometimes two or three
times a day."
	"Wow," Kyle remarked. "I though I was the only
one that did it."
	"No way, dude." Brett smiled. "All guys do it and
if they tell you they don't, they're lying."
	Kyle chuckled. He wasn't as nervous as before and
he could feel his cock becoming semi-hard again.
	"Ever do it with another dude?" Brett asked.
	"Nope," Kyle answered matter-of-factly.
	"Aww dude, it's the greatest feeling when someone
else does it for ya."

	"Really?" Kyle asked intrigued. His rod began to
stiffen. He was becoming excited about Brett's words.
	"Yeah dude," Brett went on. "You know how you
feel all tingly when you're stroking?"
	"Yup, it's great," Kyle smiled. He gave his cock
a few tugs as he watched Brett rub his own cock. A wet
spot appeared on the front of Brett's sweatpants.
	"Well, each time another guy touches you, it
feels like electricity surging through ya...and when
you get a blowjob...well it's heaven!"
	"A blowjob?" Kyle asked puzzled. "Sounds
painful."
	"Well, it's not," Brett chuckled. "There's not
really any blowing goin' on...just sucking on your
cock."
	"Ewww...you mean someone actually puts a cock
into your mouth?"
	"Dude, relax! There's no taste," Brett told him.
"Well, maybe a little salty and bitter taste if the
other dude is oozing some precum."
	"Sounds yucky," Kyle said.
	"Well, do this, dude," Brent instructed. "Rub
your finger over your slit and taste the stuff coming
outta your prick."
	Kyle hesitated and then rubbed his piss-slit. The
velvety fluid coated his finger and he brought it up
to his nose. It smelled a little tangy but not
repulsive.
	"Now taste it," Bret beckoned his young friend.
Kyle slowly moved the finger covered with his boy
juice and slid it into this mouth, closing his full
lips around the finger and sucking on it. "Hmmm, not
that bad."
	"Now take your thumb and put in into your mouth
and suck on it," Brett said.
	Kyle followed the instructions and sucked on his
thumb. "Hmm....kinda salty."
	"Well, that's probably from sweat, dude," Brett
assured him. "But it doesn't have any flavor, does
it?"
	"Not really," Kyle acknowledged. "But what about
that white stuff that shoots out?"
	"Don't worry about that," Brett assured him.
"Some guys like to swallow that stuff but all ya gotta
do is say I'm cumming and then the other guy can
decided what he wants to do."
	Kyle hadn't realized that he was rock-hard and
his boy rod was oozing a lot of precum. He skillfully
rubbed his mushroom head and brought more of the fluid
to his lips, savoring the flavor. It actually tasted
good.
	"So, dude.... Ya wanna head back to my tent and
fool around?" Brett asked. "I could really use a buddy
right about now and from the looks of it, I think you
could too!"
	Kyle smiled as he looked down at his pulsing
organ. It would be nice to cum but maybe it would be
even better to trust Brent and see about the feelings
that he was talking about.
	"Sure, why not," Kyle muttered as he let go of
his rod and pulled his shorts back around his waist.
	"Good," Brett stammered and he approached Kyle
and placed his hand around his shoulder. Let's go,
babe."
	Kyle's mind was filled with many thoughts as he
was led back to Brett's tent. The anticipation of
trying out these new things was making his young boy
cock pulse with excitement. Every step he took caused
the stiff organ to rub against the fabric of his
shorts and made his dick tingle. He could feel the wet
spot grow larger but the warmth that his dick was
emanating was kindling a fire of passion in his loins.
	His experience with Brett was the best he had
ever experienced. Sucking cock wasn't so bad and he
even got brave enough to swallow one time. He gagged
at first, more from the realization of what he was
doing than from the taste of the hot, thick liquid
that spurted from his playmate's cock. After the first
time, he knew what signs to look for from the cock in
his mouth and knew that he could prepare himself for
the blast of man seed.
	He unconsciously shuddered just from the
pleasurable thoughts of that experience and quickly
shifted his thoughts to the wristwatch draped around
his slender, pale wrist. His cock had awakened inside
of his shorts and strained for release. A moist spot
had formed and blended with the material that was damp
from sweat. He hoped that his cock would go down
before his friends arrived.
It was getting late. The music was louder now and it
would be just a matter of a few more minutes. He
couldn't wait to lead his friends down the well-worn
path that would take them to the campsite.
	The CD player was now pumping out the familiar
lyrics and music of Aerosmith; the line "Living on the
edge" pierced the afternoon air. As he looked around
the corner of the garage, he caught a glimpse of his
friends trudging up the slushy, wet road. The camping
gear that they carried on their shoulders and in their
arms burdened them. It was a funny sight. Each head
and body swayed back and forth, marching to the rhythm
of the music and they were singing along with the
song. He laughed as he walked the twenty-foot length
of the driveway and waited for them to reach him. When
they stopped in front of him, he yelled so that they
could hear him over the blaring music. "You guys look
like a bunch of geese following their mother."
	Jared juggled his gear and fumbled with the
buttons on the portable CD player he was carrying.
Squatting down, he placed it on the ground and then
clicked it off.
	Matt laughed as he peered over the pile of gear
in his hands and searched for a dry spot on the
asphalt-paved driveway. Finding one, he opened his
arms and his gear plopped to the ground. "Well, we'll
be following you to the site, so I guess that would
make you Mother Goose."
	"Yup," Kyle said. "But I don't tell nursery
rhymes. That's your department."
	"My stories don't rhyme but they do give you
goose bumps," Matt responded quickly.
	Kyle chuckled and pointed toward the garage.
"I'll get my stuff and you guys can follow me." He
didn't wait for a response. He ran into the garage,
retrieved his gear, and then motioned with his head
for the group to follow him. "Right this way, boys."
	Matt gathered up his gear again and caught up to
PJ and Jared. As they walked through the backdoor of
the garage and into the backyard, PJ broke the
silence. "Hey Matty, you gonna tell us one of your
stories tonight?"
Matt tilted his head and looked up. "Well, let me
see."
Jared pleaded. "Oh please? A good scary one!"
"Well, did anyone hear about three-fingered
Willie and how he was just released from the slammer?"
Matt questioned his friends.
"No. Is this a real story or is this something
that your little warped mind made up?" PJ asked,
wondering if Matt was going to go into one of his tall
tale modes.
Matt's voice was serious. 'No, this is true, as
far as I know. I heard my mom and dad talking about
him just yesterday."
"Well, is it scary?" Jared asked again, a little
more demanding.
"I guess so," Matt answered. "From what I hear,
he did some pretty gruesome things and that is why
everyone in town is upset and nervous that they let
him out of prison."
Kyle was listening to the conversation as he led
his friends into the woods. He rounded a turn and
caught a glimpse of the red, six-person domed tent,
sitting forty-five feet away. It's door, peering out
into the wilderness and staring at the approaching
group, looked like an one-eyed Cyclops that was
standing guard and keeping watch over the site. He
interrupted his friends. "There it is, guys," he
announced as he turned his head to address the group
behind him.
"Awesome. I want the middle," PJ demanded.
Matt hollered. "Well, I want a window incase
Jared rips one!"
Kyle neared the clearing and slowed his pace. He
studied the twenty-foot in diameter clearing and the
tent resting at the far end of it. As he stood by the
entrance of the site, he admired the campfire ring
near his feet.  The stones, which had been either
backbreakingly dug from the rocky, New England soil or
had had been hauled from the house by wheel barrel,
were expertly stacked a foot high and in a horseshoe
shape around a small trench that had been shoveled out
of the forest floor.
Jared walked past him and placed the CD player on
one of the blue, plastic coated, aluminum, folding
chairs that circled the fire ring and his sleeping bag
and pillow found a temporary resting-place on another
chair. PJ followed Jared and after he emptied his
arms, he removed from his pocket a handful of wooden
kitchen matches and pile of crumbled pine twigs that
he had plucked from a large white pine tree in his
yard. He knelt by the fire ring, placed two large
sticks parallel to each other, and then began
stretching the twigs perpendicularly on top of the
larger ones.
Matt paraded past Kyle, poked his head above his
overfilled arms, and flashed him a toothy grin as he
headed for the tent. He groped for the zipper while
steadying his gear but he could not grasp the zippered
opening.
Jared was watching PJ expertly strike a match and
guide the glowing wooden stick to a resting spot under
the small group of sticks. The pine twigs caught fire
immediately and a little flame danced above the stack
of wooden fuel. A trail of smoke streaked upwards and
disappeared into the air. He turned to look at Matt
and with his hands on his hips, he watched his skinny
friend for a moment. "Get out of there," he barked.
"I'll get the door for ya." He walked toward the door
and tilted his six-foot frame to reach for the zipper.
He tugged gently on the piece of metal and guided it
around on its track. The door peeled away from the
opening and he repeated his steps to open the white,
nylon mesh screen.
Matt watched from behind and when the door was
open, he snuck in front of Jared. Without warning,
Jared shoved Matt into the tent and watched as his
arms flailed in the air and his gear sailed into the
tent, spreading itself into a haphazard pile. Matt
stopped his fall with his outreached hands and before
he could finish his barrage of curses, the rest of the
group quickly gathered up their gear and tossed it on
top of him. Then they hurled themselves onto of the
pile, wrestling with each other as they did so.
Matt escaped from somewhere beneath the pile and
snatched up a pillow. He began beating Jared over the
head with it. "I'll teach you not to push me around,
you little weasel!" he exclaimed as he hit him
repeatedly. He would not yield that easily. He reached
around Jared's back and searched the top of his pants.
He located the top of his briefs and with both hands
and he tugged on them with a swift, upward motion.
As the material slid between Jared's legs and
cradled itself in his backside, it firmly tugged,
shooting a dose of pain into his groin and stomach.
His eyes widened, as the pain grew more intense.
"Okay, okay," he shouted. "I give! Stop it so my
manhood will stay intact!"
Matt eased his grip slightly and Jared's face
ironed itself of the contorted wrinkles that the pain
had knitted on it. "Who's gonna show who?" he asked,
using an Austrian accent.
Jared laughed softly. "You showed me good. You
are the king of wedgies." He could feel Matt let go of
his briefs and heard him laugh. Lying on his stomach
and prone on the floor of the tent, he propped himself
up on his elbows and looked over at Kyle and PJ, who
were looking on and giggling from their spot in the
corner of the tent. He smirked. "What are you laughing
at?"
Kyle composed his face but he could not hide his
slight smile. "You just let a one-hundred pound
weakling give you a wedgy." He burst out into laughter
again.
Matt curled his hands into little fists, bowed
his arms, brought his fists to his stomach, and flexed
his muscles. "It's one-hundred and five pounds," he
said defensively with his accent.
Kyle tried not to laugh and realized that Jared
was right. Matt did a good impression and was funny
too. You could not make any comparisons between him
and his larger-than-life movie screen idol; his five-
foot three-inch small and frail frame and his skin and
bones physique were always the gist of jokes. It was
nice that the group respected Matt and everyone
laughed along with him and not so much at him. Kyle
buried his smile for a moment and turned to Matt. "Now
stop flexing before your tear another shirt."
Matt inspected his shirt, examining it to see if
his small muscles had torn the fabric. His examination
showed that there were not any tears and he scanned
his group of friends. "Now let that be a lesson to
you," he said as he waved a finger at them. "If you
don't behave, I'llllll be back."
Jared reached around his backside, grabbed at his
briefs and pulled them back into a more comfortable
position. He rose and brought himself into a standing
position. "I hate to break up the party, ladies," he
said sarcastically as he brushed himself off. "But
let's get things set up before it gets dark."
Kyle rolled PJ off of him and watched as his
friends rolled out their sleeping bags and plopped
their pillows on top of them. The horseplay made him
temporarily forget about how dark it had gotten
already. The birds had temporarily stopped with their
warnings and had found a safe place to hide. Somewhere
in the distance, a great horned owl belched out its
who cooks for you call in its high-pitched tone.
He raised himself up and peered out of the tent
door, surveying the campsite and the collection of
things that had were placed on the folding chairs. He
masked his worried face with a smile so that his
friends would not notice the feeling of uneasiness he
felt deep inside of him.
Matt's pale skin was freckled with goose bumps
and he was rubbing his arms to try to sand them off.
He waltzed up to Kyle. "I don't know about you, but
I'm gonna get out of these shorts and put something a
little warmer on."
Kyle broke his gaze and acknowledged his friend
with a glance. He watched as Matt dug deep into his
sleeping bag and searched for something.
Matt extracted a pair of baggy Tommy jeans and
held them up to the group. "TA DA!"
Matt's triumphant outburst drew PJ's attention.
He turned his eyes to the sky, brought his hands to
his mouth, and mimicked an expression that his mother
often wore every time she saw him with the same style
jeans. "Uh oh, the droopy draws."
"Yup, the pant's that hang down to your butt,"
Jared added.
PJ smiled. "My mom has a cow every time I wear them,
too."
"Stylin'," Jared interjected. "Damn, between my
mom making fun of my jeans and my dad making fun of my
earring, I don't know who's worse." He pointed to his
left ear. "So how's my little fella," he said,
imitating his dad. "He just don't understand the
earring. He thinks he is raising a girl. I told him
pirates wore earrings too and you bet no one told them
they were girls."
Kyle smiled as he listened to his friends recite
their familiar stories of family life. He returned his
attention to the fire and stared into it from his
perch near the opening of the tent. He took in the
peaceful sounds of the approaching evening.
The swamp land symphony, somewhere in the
distance, was active tonight. The spring frogs were
shrilling their high-pitched peep, peeps. The robins
were saying goodnight with their familiar overture of
repetitive melodic tones. The red-winged black birds,
from their nighttime perches at the edge of the swamp,
were bellowing their familiar cherolees. The sound of
the traffic from Route 32 was distant and infrequent.
All of these sounds were happening all at once and
yet, they were all so distinctive and decipherable. He
was in a hypnotic trance, induced by the dancing
flames of red and yellow. The smell of smoke caressed
his nostrils and tranquilized him into a state of
bliss. It was easy to lose yourself and let your mind
wander in a place like this.
He slowly came out of the trance and returned his
attention to his friends. They had all changed and he
watched as they slipped on their untied sneakers,
walked past him and out of the tent opening. He
followed the last one out, zipped the tent closed, and
took up a spot on one of the empty chairs. "Well, did
we come out here to talk about all the crap we get
from our parents or did we come out here to forget all
that and have a good time?"
"Yeah," Matt screamed. "Now turn up the tunes and
let's get this party in gear!"
Jared got up from his chair and headed into the
tent. As he entered, he reached into a large paper bag
and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. He poked his
head through the opening. "Here you go, Kyle," he
said, tossing the bag over to him. "Get me a stick and
I'll be right out."
"Sure you will," PJ yelled back. "You probably
brought that swimsuit magazine with you and you're
gonna be in spankin' it."
Jared disappeared into the tent. "PJ, now how did
you know that?" he shouted back. "You'll get your turn
to look at mag and have your fun in a little while."
"No thank you," PJ blurted out. "I like to drool
over the real thing."
"Hey, Kyle? Did you bring an extra sweatshirt
with ya?" Jared asked.
"Yeah, I did," Kyle responded. He got up from his
seat and wondered over to the tent, unzipped it
hastily and entered. There, standing before him, was
Jared, completely naked and sporting a hardon.
Jared seemed to like the attention that Kyle's
eyes were giving his five and one half inch stiff
cock. Since he was unsure of Kyle's status to sex and
his desires for either male or female genders, he
nonchalantly grabbed at his cock and gave it a few
tugs, pretending to search for his long pants as he
did so.
Kyle was excited and nervous at the same time and
so that Matt and PJ would not see him, he turned and
zipped the tent shut. He could feel the excitement in
his loins as his boy meat came to life, stirring and
straining in his shorts. Conveniently, his sleeping
bag was located right near Jared's and as he got down
on his knees to search the inside of his sleeping bag
for the extra clothing, he couldn't help but notice
that Jared was standing near him and bringing his hard
cock closer to his face.
If Kyle took the chance and licked his friend's
hard member, would Jared tell the others? Would he
give away the secret that Kyle harbored about his love
of cock? He nervously searched his sleeping bag and
stared at the pulsing organ that rested in front of
him. Jared stood with his hands on his hip, seemingly
uninhibited about his nakedness. His back was arched
slightly, projecting his stiff rod closer to his
friend, conveniently at eye level with his manhood.
Kyle found the extra sweatshirt and stole up his
courage. He couldn't resist the temptations of having
a stiff cock in front of him. He figured that if Jared
didn't want anything to happen, he would have been
fully dressed when he beckoned him into the tent. As
he handed the sweatshirt to Jared, he watched as the
boy's hands became unfastened from his hip and reached
out to take the offered apparel. Taking Jared off
guard, Kyle swooped down on the stiff rod and took its
mushroom head into his mouth. He began sucking
voraciously at the hard cock.
Jared dropped the sweatshirt from his hands and
placed them on the top of Kyle's head, holding on to
his friend as he fed him this manhood.
"It's awful quiet in there," Matt called out from
near the fire.
Jared feared that his friends would discover the
encounter. "You find it yet, Kyle?" Although he wanted
the worshipping of his cock to continue, he pushed his
friend's mouth from his throbbing cock.
"Here it is," Kyle said as he played along. He
was about to go back to work on his friend when Jared
moved away.
"Later, dude." Jared whispered as he smiled.
Kyle got up from his kneeling position and
adjusted the rod that strained in his shorts. He
watched Jared get dressed and watched as he struggled
to slide the hard cock into his tight jeans and button
them closed. Having regained his composure and feeling
his cock soften a bit, he approached the opening of
the tent and unzipped it.
He wiped the saliva from his mouth with the back
of his right hand and stepped through the opening of
the tent. As a ploy to make his delayed absence
believable, he carried with him two sweatshirts. "Do
either of you guys need a sweatshirt?" he asked his
friends.
"I'm all set, dude," PJ answered.
"I could use one," Matt answered.
"Well, just don't be flexing too much," Kyle
teased. "I don't want to have this sweatshirt torn."
He tossed the shirt to Matt and then moved back to the
tent to toss the extra shirt on his sleeping bag. As
he stepped through the opening, Jared grabbed him to
one side and kissed him deeply. Kyle thought he was
going to faint from the sudden passion that he felt in
Jared's long kiss. He didn't want it to end, but if he
allowed this to continue, this situation would cause
his friends to wonder about his delay. Slowly, he
broke the embrace and smiled at Jared.
"Stop spankin' it in here," he yelled out as he
smiled at Jared.
Aware of what his friend was trying to do, Jared
played along, "Oh, eww, oh yes!" he remarked.
A chuckle erupted from Matt and PJ as Kyle and
Jared returned to their seats. Matt was placing a
marshmallow onto his stick while PJ had already
propped his skewered treat over the roaring flames.
The music of Korn blared from the CD player.
Kyle couldn't wait to get Jared alone again and
continue from where they left off. Although he never
suspected that his friend was like this, he was glad
to discover that Jared liked to play with guys too.
And what a nice cock he had! It was just big
enough to be filling and just small enough so that it
didn't gag him when he went all the way down. He had
large nuts and just a bush of hair around his stem. As
he brought the hot marshmallow to his lips, he let his
mind wander and he pretended that Jared's cock was his
campfire treat. He opened his lips wide and took the
soft treat into his mouth, shoving it deep into the
back of his throat. Then he closed his lips around the
stick and slowly pulled the wood from the swollen,
puffy, golden brown treat. Kyle savored the sweetness
of his campfire snack and couldn't wait to replace the
white treat with something hot and white, produced
from his friend.

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