Date: Thu, 27 Mar 2008 08:00:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S DILEMMA by Donny Mumford
It begins with both of us basically wanting the same
thing... hot, gay, boy, sex. I submit to him, sure...
but in the beginning it's a mutual endeavor, me
positioning myself for him to have an easy entry into
my body, then a bit later our statuses change some.
Usually his hard penis with the dripping, swollen head
has some difficulty pushing past my sphincter muscle,
my tight ring. The Vaseline helps, and I'm helping
too. I want to feel him inside of me, at least as
much as he wants to be in there, so I continue making
myself available and doing what he tells me to do.
Of course, his fat cock always has it's way
eventually, forcing past the stubborn ring and into
my asshole. The usual pain ensues and then some
additional hurt as he relentlessly pushing that
engorged organ steadily up my tunnel. As it proceeds,
the foreskin of his uncut penis pulls back, fully
exposing the head, even as the head's expanding in
response to the sensation of my tight tunnel. The
entire length of his boner experiences the tightness
of my ring as it passes through my hole on it's way up
inside me... that excites the boner part of him, and
in turn, him.
Yes... some pain, but for me it's the pleasure I
concentrate on. It easily overwhelms the pain and,
anyway... soon the pain goes somewhere else and only
the pleasure remains. Ooooh, the pleasure, always the
luscious pleasure. I do love it so much... a hard,
long boner up inside me. It feels real good. He
retracts his erected penis till just the head is
caught by my sphincter ring and then he methodically
plows back up inside me again for another tentative go
of it. By the third or forth thrust he's encouraged
that he's probably got me already... another hump up
and back, and there it is... I moan with the pleasure
of it. Air hissing out between his teeth as he also
enjoys the ride.
That hot feeling, and the visual of my hole swallowing
his entire boner, so very tightly ... it makes him
roll his head back and moan. Then again retraction,
followed this time with an easier and slightly quicker
drive back up inside me till his nut sac smacks
against my right buttock. Again, and it's sliding
quite easily now. Yes, I'm captured... he has me
fully under his control... there isn't any turning
back for me. A quick three full humps in and out and
then a smooth couple of slower ones, just for the hell
of it.
And so, now it's not really a mutual thing anymore. I
more or less belong to him for a little while... just
till he's done with me. He's in the grip of it... the
feeling has him and he'll be insisting on finishing
it. He has very little choice actually... we're young
and the feeling's still new enough and strong enough
that stopping isn't really an option when you get this
far along. He pumps my ass confidently now... he
knows it's not a mutual thing anymore, just like I do.
To prove it he smacks my ass and roughly moves me
over a few steps to a position more to his liking.
He's in charge... he rules. Then six extra hard humps
up inside me and another smack, just to prove it
further. I gulp with the full realization that my ass
belongs to him. I couldn't get out of this if I
wanted to, which I don't. "Fuck my ass, fuck me!"
He maybe hears my plea, but mainly he's into his own
world of pleasure. Other things are forgotten as he
again does the quiet moan, humping me a little
faster... that unique feeling in his cock has
overtaken all of his other senses. It's no longer a
matter of... "hey, this will be fun and feel good"...
no, he "needs" it now. His hands grip my hips tight
enough to let me know I'm not going anywhere, and then
later his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me onto
his hot, dripping cock harder and faster and harder
still. He's grunting with the effort of every
penetration now and I'm bumped about and jostled as
needed for his pleasure. I start grunting with each
of his grunts. He snaps out, "Grab the towel bar and
stay bent over, god damnit". Both my hands grab on
and hold the towel bar tightly with my legs trembling
causing me to move from side to side a little.
When he feels it's necessary, he grabs a handful of my
hair, pulling my head back so that my adams apple
protrudes from the front of my throat... he's simply
instructing me, insisting actually, that I stay
still, in place, so he can fuck my ass the way he
wants to... it's nothing against me personally... he
cares only how his boner feels. The blood of his body
is mostly located in his groin area now and the
"feeling" is on him hot and heavy. He's getting
hotter and hotter as his balls tighten up into hard
marbles. The pressurized sperm is readying itself to
blast out of their confined space in his nuts, up his
hard penis, and out the expanded slit at the top of
his cock to splatter my guts with creamy teen cum. As
he gets closer and closer it's... smack, smack, smack,
smack on my ass... just because he's approaching that
moment and he's excited about it, and because he feels
like smacking my ass.
My own personal unique feeling has me gasping for air
too, and then I can't hold myself off any longer... I
need to grab the boner that's been bobbing in front of
me for the last ten minutes... letting go of the bar
with my right hand, and grabbing that boner with my
fist, stroking it fast, five times. At the same time
blowing a spray of spit through tightly closed lips to
relieve the pressure building up in me... reveling in
the thrill of the feeling, the thrill of the
expectation of climax. It's all made possible by him,
my ass, and by my precious boner. My hard penis that
I love... that piece of me that gives me such great
pleasure.
Masturbating while getting fucked is the ultimate
double-dipping rush, the ultimate erotic thrill for
me. My foreskin pulls back off the head of my cock and
my pee slit quivers.. out pops three drops of precum
that's quickly spread over the head as the sheath of
foreskin closes over it and then pulls back off again.
More precum and I match the stroking of my cock with
his humps up inside me. The stroking of my six inch,
steel hard, boner is synchronized with his
fantastically hard boner's deep humps up inside my
asshole. I stare at my hard cock as my hand strokes it
over and over and over, faster and faster and
faster... more saliva drips from my lips and rolls
down my chin as my tongue whips around the back of my
teeth, over my lips and against the roof of my mouth.
So many sensation in my hole... all being stimulated
with every hump in and out by his hard, fat cock. That
one special spot inside my hole keeps getting hit over
and over and I'm groaning and whimpering, "Fuck me
harder..."
He again grabs a handful of my hair and roughly pulls
my head towards him while he's making squeaking
sounds, or maybe he's telling me to do something...
both of us are aware we can't be loud because my Mom
is sleeping two doors down, but oh my God... it feels
so good I want to scream it out to the world. He owns
me right now of course, but I wouldn't want it any
other way. "Fuck me... fuck me" I murmur and he does,
he does. We're both almost there and the sound of his
rapid humps into me resembles the earlier sound of him
smacking my ass with his hand. He lets go of my hair
because he needs to hold onto my hips with both
hands... now it's his crotch against my sweaty, bare
ass cheeks making the wet smacking sound...
"splat,splat,splat,splat,splat,splat" fast, and
getting faster, approaching a frantic speed... with me
barely able to say "yes,yes,yes, yes,yes" with every
hard, deep hump.
I know the time is here, although I want it to go on
longer... but it's my time. Then it happens, my nuts
get tight against my body and I squeal into the towels
on the rack as cum shoots up from both nuts and flies
out my expanded pee slit... it's a super nova in my
head, and then it acts the way a fireworks display
does, POW! the blast, followed by it spreading out
into an exciting design and it gets bigger and bigger.
That's my climax... EXPLOSION and then that
indescribably delicious feeling spreads out all over
my body, reaching to the top of my scalp and down my
legs till it makes my toes curl up tight. I shake and
shudder and then a smaller super nova as the second
shot of cum leaves my body... and it's followed by a
smaller spreading display and a third little one with
me still whimpering with pleasure....my body tingling
all over.
He had his too, probably when I clamped shut my ring
causing the extra pressure on his already
over-stimulated sex organ... I'm not sure the exact
second he exploded up inside me because my senses were
busy with my own super nova, but I know he had it
because his cum is on my ass cheeks, inside my
asshole, and running down the inside of both my thighs
... and I can hear him trying desperately to get
oxygen into his lungs. He pulls out of me shortly
after his climax cause we're short on time... and now
I don't belong to him any more. Now we're partners
again and we want to keep bodily contact with each
other for a little longer... it's a shared experience
like no other, and also, because we're grateful for
one another.
Then, he's gone... and I have to clean up. It's
always me who has to clean up the spunk... on the base
of the toilet, how'd it get there?... and on the
shower curtain, on the bottom of the tub, and there's
some on the tile floor too. I grab yesterday's shower
towel from the hamper and wipe my ass of the extra
Vaseline. Then I use that same towel to wipe all my
cum off everything... lastly, I arrange the towel in
the hamper so that, hopefully, Mom won't notice the
cum when she does the wash.
All is well except... Oh no! I see the little clock
sitting on the top of the toilet tank. Shit! Is that
the right time? The shower has been running all this
time and the room is steamy so I wipe the mist off the
face of the clock and, sure enough, I'm late. I
figured the noise of the shower would block out the
sound of me getting fucked... didn't want to wake Mom,
but it caused steam to obscure the face of that little
clock and I can see I'm going to be late.
Jumping in the tub, under the full flow of warm water
I wash, wash, wash... my finger first. Then a quick
shampoo and some body gel... gotta hurry. Spend some
time cleaning my ass, it's not really sore so I force
a little washcloth up my hole, clean, clean, clean...
it wouldn't do to have a Vaseline stain leak through
my blue jeans right at my hole. That's not what I
need. Lastly, pulling back the foreskin I clean the
head of my penis real good. The sensitivity I felt
there five minutes ago is greatly reduced and the
foreskin slides back over the precious head to protect
it. I love my uncut penis so much.
OK, enough of that, I'm late... turn off the water,
grab a clean towel and dry off fast. No time to spike
my hair this morning so I comb it flat on top and up
in front. The sun shining in the the little window
over top of the shower curtain hit's my hair just
right and shows up the lighter blond highlights in my
already light blond hair. I stare at it thinking,
"How cool". In Chem class there's a boy sitting in
front of me with bright red hair and his hair has
natural light highlights too... light red ones. We
joke around about who has the best looking, hottest
hair in the school... we both agree it's one of us
two, no one else is even under consideration. Ha ha
ha! What the fuck am I wasting time with that
for?...I'm late!
I grab my clean boxers off the hook on the bathroom
door and put them on as I hurry the five steps to my
bedroom. Drag a light-weight Patriots sweatshirt over
my head, pull on socks and squeeze into old blue jeans
that are clean, but have rips here and there, in just
the right places to be cool! Struggle to button those
old jeans... I'm slim, but those things shrunk over
the years from being washed so much. Then my sneakers
and I'm ready... wait, where's my fucking Math
homework? Now I'm really going to be late and he's
waiting for me outside right now.
*********************************************************
DYLAN'S DILEMMA
by
donny mumford
What a beautiful peaceful morning. Did you know that
in New England we sometimes don't have a Spring
season. It goes from Winter right into Summer, but
today is the exception to that. It's as if it's the
first day of Spring, actually a Spring-like day. The
middle of March and there's bright blue, sunny skies
with hardly any wind... and, better yet, a forecast of
temperatures reaching the fifties by this afternoon.
Nice... that's as good as it gets in Massachusetts, in
March. So, the weather is certainly a fine surprise,
but what happened to us on the way to school was not
fine and not particularly a surprise.. The sad fact
is, where Chubby and I live, no matter the weather,
getting beat-up isn't really considered a surprise.
More like... it's a possibility, and we all know that,
but tempting fate increases the chances of it
happening significantly. Taking the short cut to
school down Circle Avenue is "tempting fate". If I
could have found my homework faster this morning
Chubby and me wouldn't have had to use that short cut
and therefore, we wouldn't have run into the infamous
Chavez brothers. We figured we were lucky to survive
getting past their brown and black German Sheppard
with it's bared, shark's teeth, it's head as big as a
watermelon, and it's scary loud deep throaty growl ...
us separated from the beast by the flimsiest of
ropes. Almost peed myself when it came charging down
the driveway. Chubby yelled, "Oh, Dear Mother of
God!" when that monster hit the end of the rope, two
feet from us, and flipped over on it's broad back.
Too bad it didn't break it's fucking neck. It got
right back up to begin barking loud enough to wake the
dead.
As we quickly jogged away an old lady screeched out,
"Stop teasing that dog!! Fucking kids in this
neighborhood!!" Chubby and me exchanged terrified
looks and then he silently mouths "This is your fault,
Dylan". I nodded to acknowledge that it was, and we
started running hard... we're almost off Circle Avenue
and onto the main drag when that fat fuck, Freddy
Chavez, sticks his foot out and trips Chubby. I didn't
even see the prick sitting there on a stool in front
of his car, waxing it or, who knows what he was
doing. Freddy says, "Oops, the little fairy fell down
and got a boo boo" and then he yells, " Chico, get
the fuck out here. Some smart asses are teasing our
old lady's dog again".
Chubby had gone down hard and slid on the cement
sidewalk four feet. His jeans ripped at both knees,
blood already seeping out of the brush burns. Chubby
yelled, "You mother fucker, Chavez!" and then here
comes Freddy's brother, Chico. "What'd you call him,
faggot?" a round-house punch bounces off Chubby's
skull with a hollow "thunk". I jump on Chico's back,
grabbing him around his dirt-ringed neck with one hand
and going for his eyes with the other. Freddy rushes
up behind me to give me two hard punches in my ribs.
The first one knocked the wind out of me, and then he
drags me off his brother and, lucky me, another punch
in the softest part of my belly, followed by a hard
shove up against his car... then I flop down on the
sidewalk seeing stars and trying to get my breathing
started back up. Chub is just laying there. I'm
thinking, "I need to start breathing soon".
Chico's voice from the vacuum of space says, "Check
the fuckers pockets, Freddy. That skinny shithead
scratched the door of my car when he stumbled into it.
I ain't paying for that, we'll get the money off
them. Both Chubby and I were wearing tight dungarees
and Freddy's fat hand couldn't get in our pockets so
he pulled off our sneakers and then pulled off our
dungarees. Chub's jeans were just big enough around
the waist to come off with a couple of tugs on the
pant legs. Mine were old and too tight for me so with
the Chavez brothers each holding onto a leg of my
jeans, they dragged me half way down the block,
laughing like mad, before they could get the jeans to
pull off over my hips. My head bouncing on the
cracked sidewalk with each new pull and drag, then...
a huge intake of air into my lungs and I was breathing
again... thank God!
In the struggle my boxers got half pulled off... that
seemed to interest Chico. He came back towards me,
panting a little with his tongue licking around his
lips. He hesitated a second and then reached down to
grab my boxers at the waist band. I said, "No, don't"
just before he ripped them off me. His eyes got big
and shiny... absorbing the image of my soft cock and
shrunken nuts, then he seemed to snap out of it.
Looking in the direction of sirens sounding, while
groping his crotch he mumbled, "What the fuck...?".
Someone had dropped a dime on the Chevez boys'
shenanigans and we could hear police sirens in the
background. Freddy motioned with his head for Chico
to get in the car. After throwing our dungarees in
the back seat, they casually drove down the street
right past the police car as it flew by them in the
opposite direction, it's lights flashing and siren
blaring.... the dumb fucks. The cops almost drove
right by us too... and for all the good they did, they
might as well have. But, they slammed on the breaks
and backed up to where we were sprawled out on the
littered sidewalk.
They looked at us, then looked all around... just
sitting there on their fat asses in the cruiser.
After a moment checking out the scene, they both went
back to staring blankly at Chubby and me some more.
The black cop said something to the white one... they
both chuckled and then with bemused looks on their
faces they called for an ambulance. Chubby was
sitting up by now, holding his head in both hands,
blood drooling from a cut in back. I was taking off
my shirt so I could cover my dick. Both the cops
eventually put a hand over their mouth laughing, at me
I guess.
When the cops finally dragged themselves out of the
cruiser we told them exactly what happened and who did
it, but before we were even in the ambulance there
were three people from the neighborhood telling them a
totally different story. They said we were teasing
that nice dog and cursing at the old lady who owned it
and when her son's tried to get us to move along, the
little one... pointing at Chubby, took a swing at
Freddy. Two of the liars were adults and one was a
teenager with cornrows who kept giving Chubby and me
the finger whenever the cops weren't looking his way.
What a cluster fuck that whole scene was. I asked the
cops indignantly, "Do you actually believe a word of
this BS? Who would pick a fight with the Chavez
brothers? Us two? Look at us." and I pointed at
little Chubby and skinny me, "Are you serious?" He
said it's our word against their word. One of the
paramedics gave me a hospital blue pajama bottom to
wear... then I called my Mom on the guy's cell phone.
That would have been the end of this nightmare except
Chubby passed-out on the way to the hospital, so it
continued. All I could think of as I watched the
paramedic give Chubby oxygen was the sound Chico's
huge fist made when it connected with Chubby's head
and then the "bonk" when the back of Chubby's head hit
the sidewalk.
At the hospital I was taken for an XRAY of my ribs,
which turned-out negative. I didn't even have a
broken rib, just bruises from the three punches to my
body. They hurt, and were turning yellowish purple,
and I had cuts on the back of my head from being
dragged on the sidewalk, but I was OK.
Chubby was being examined for a concussion, and other
things I suppose. Sitting in the waiting room looking
for our Moms to arrive, I thought about me and Chubby.
He's been my best friend all my life. I have
memories of Chubby from about age five. We played
together every day and slept together many nights
until about age ten. Jeffery Romero is Chubby's real
name, but I've never called him that. He got his
nickname as a toddler, mostly because he wasn't...
wasn't chubby, I mean... he was skinny. Chubby and me
both just turned seventeen year old which makes us the
two youngest juniors at Framingham High School.
That's our only claim to fame, being the youngest
juniors in town. Yep, the big, big town of Framingham,
Massachusetts. It sucks actually.
My Mom and his Mom have been best friends forever and
now Chubby and me are too. I'd guess our moms both
must be about thirty-five by now... I know they were
both pregnant with Chubby and me at age seventeen. I
get to officially be a "bastard", literally... my Mom
never married the boy who made her pregnant. He's
still in the Navy as far as anyone knows. I learned,
years ago, that he'd been under the impression Mom was
going to abort me... obviously, she didn't. That's
mostly because she found out that Tris had gotten
knocked up with Chubby around then too, and those two
best friends, with all the wisdom of teenage girls,
thought it would be fun to have babies at the same
time. Jesus, that was a close call for me, so ta
speak.
Anyway, the Hispanic boy who is Chubby's father
married Tris, but died on the steps outside their
apartment right after Chubby was born. Man, what a
way to start and end a life. Chubby's Dad died from
an aneurysm, in the brain. It's sad, but he went out
to get the newspaper one morning, sat down on the
curb, wet his pants and then passed-out after asking
the mailman, "What's happening to me?" Chubby was one
week old. Apparently aneurysms are a real bitch.
Chubby carries a picture in his wallet of his Dad
holding him at two days old. Amazing how good looking
and how young his Dad is in that picture. He was as
old then as Chubby and I are now... guess he always
will be too. Like I said, sad. Feeling shitty
sitting there in the hospital waiting room, I took a
deep breath and thought, "The wallet with that picture
is in the hands of those cretin Chavez brothers right
now".
Interrupting my thoughts was a ruckus at the emergency
room entrance where paramedics were wheeling in
accident victims. It seems relatives of the accident
victims didn't appreciate how long it took to get the
survivors here. Lots of yelling and cursing and two
men go down on the floor fighting. Jesus! this place
sucks the big one. I get up and move way to the other
side of the room near an old woman moaning with
another old woman patting the moaning woman's hand.
Delightful. Let's see, where was I?... oh yeah,
thinking about Chubby and my daily schedule.
Frankly, until just now I never thought we had a
schedule? Hmmm? Well, our school days goes like
this... every day we wait for each other in front of
our double-decker duplex and walk to school together.
On the way we share two Marlboro cigarettes, passing
one back and forth till it's done. Then we walk for
another ten blocks and do it again with the other
cigarette. After school we work on the school
newspaper for an hour, then come home, say hello to
our Moms and then we go out again, rain or shine...
for our run. We do a four mile run along the trail
through Parker's Park every week day and sometimes on
the weekend too.
The daily four mile run takes about an hour and we
come back to my place for cokes and snacks and talk
some more with our Moms before they go to work. They
work as waitresses at Renny's Bar and Grille, mostly
in the bar cause they get bigger tips there. They
work from four pm until midnight so Chubby and me are
on our own then. Both of our Moms are smiley
ladies... happy and chatty and always ready to laugh
and always supportive of Chubby and me.... they think
we "rock". Not too many others think that, but we're
glad they do. When they leave for work, we do our
homework. Chubby is smart in Math and I'm smart in
English so we help each other.
Thinking about this is keeping my mind off worrying
about Chubby... sort of. I'm realizing how much we're
a part of each other. As far back as age six there
are pictures of us two on the beach, in our too big,
baggy, boarder bathing suits, hugging each other with
our skinny arms, our heads together and smiling like
our lives depended on it. Chubby likes being in
close proximity of me at all times... that was true
back then, and it's still true to this day. I don't
mind, but I guess sometimes I wouldn't mind if he
wasn't so close to me so much. Of course now that
he's hurt, I wish he was right here next to me.
I gotta laugh at Chubby... he's so funny with this
togetherness thing. He insist it has to be his way
when we're watching TV. Both of us need to sit in
that barkolounger recliner and he takes my right arm
and pulls it around him so that the back of his neck
is resting on my bicep, then he holds or pats my
hand. This would be so freaking odd to most guys, I
know that! ... but we've been watching TV together
this way for thirteen years. Same recliner all
thirteen years too. Chubby gets a hurt look whenever I
try to change any of our routines, watching TV or
anything else. Hell, I like the feel of him next to me
anyway... it's nice that he wants to be close to me.
We're tighter then brothers.
We've never had a discussion about "sexuality", our's
or anybody elses. Chubby has to be a leading candidate
for being gay though, especially because of some other
things he does. As for me, I'm something like "gay",
I guess... but not gay for Chubby. I say "something
like gay" because when I masturbate I have this
elaborately detailed fantasy about being fucked by
some mystery boy. No age, no face, no particulars at
all... just "someone" really screwing my ass hard.
For the last two years I've been fingering my own hole
while I jerk off... thinking about that hot fantasy.
Thinking about that right now gets my dick stiff.
Can't wait to do it tonight or tomorrow morning, maybe
both times. I jerk-off alone. I have no desires for
Chubby to finger my hole or do anything else involving
sex... with Chubby, that is. For that matter, I've
no desire to have sex with any boy or girl I've ever
met. If it weren't for that one fantasy of mine about
some boy fucking me, I'd call myself asexual..neutral,
or whatever is the proper term for a sexless boy.
But, since I do have that fantasy, I call myself
"something like gay"... I don't know what the
"something" is.
Chubby on the other hand... well, he does want to be
connected to me in a sexual way... although it's only
in a peripheral way on my part. It goes like this...
once he's situated on the recliner with me he'll do
that cuddling and holding my hand routine I
mentioned... we'll watch TV for a bit and then he'll
squirm around so that he's straddling my leg and he
begins the slightest humping of his crotch against my
thigh... he'll fuck my thigh until he grunts, humps
hard against me a few times, then cums in his pants.
I feel his short stubby boner pounding my leg and his
hot, short breaths moistly spraying on my neck with
each ejaculation spurt in his pants. This has
happened a couple times a week for the past three
years.
When he first did it I was too surprised, and I guess
embarrassed, to say anything about it. Then somehow
it got to be an entire week of him doing it without me
saying anything, and then two weeks and so on. It was
as though it was too late to mention it after a while,
and in three years it has never been mentioned
directly... which is weird, but true. Right after he
climaxes he snuggles against me and hugs me and moans
for a bit enjoying the feel of it all, I guess. Then,
he'll wiggle around to his original position and go
back to using my arm as his pillow.
Some nights, after he cums, and he's situated back in
his original position he'll say something like,
"Dylan, we're not queer ya know" and I'll say, "Of
course we're not, Chub, why would you even say that?"
and he always says something like, "we're the closest
buddies ever, we're not homos" and I'll say a
variation of what I said ten seconds earlier. That
usually satisfies Chubby as he lays next to me in that
recliner, the cum spot on his pants slowly spreading.
Next, Chubby will have some obscure factoid to tell me
about in an effort to change the subject ... like,
"Dylan, did you know the only domestic animal not
mentioned in the Bible is the cat?" I'll go, "No
shit, I didn't know that."
Honestly, I don't get sexually stimulated even a
little bit by his dry-hump-fuck, or whatever it is.
I love Chubby more than a brother and I want to help
him enjoy himself... it's harmless. When he turns
over to hump my thigh I make sure I keep my body loose
and still. I don't want to tighten-up or he might
think I'm rejecting him or something. Other than
that, we have no explicit sex together...we've never
jerked off together or sucked each other off or
anything other than just that dry hump of Chubby's.
Well, for Chubby, there are two other things I guess
you'd have to say are sexual, but not for me. Me
personally... I've never had any kind of sex at all..
I mean, that involves someone other than myself.
I've seen Chubby's penis a million times, just as many
times as he's seen mine. Peeing, or changing, or
bathing... we're not bashful around each other.
Neither of us are cut, and let's see... Chubby has a
smaller one than me, but not tiny or anything. Mine
is a nice six inches and his is somewhat this side of
five inches I'd have to say. Both our dicks are
regular width with regular nuts and all that...regular
pubic patches for our slight teen bodies. I've never
wanted to suck either of our dicks, but we do have
nice looking ones, even if I do say so myself. You
know... no fat veins or bends or weird abnormalities.
They look in proportion to our bodies and are just
fine looking, uncut dicks... what can I say, they look
cool actually. Mine's a great one to jerk-off with, I
can assure you of that..
Our bodies are both slim. Chubby is short at about
five foot six and I'm five foot ten. I like to think
we have runner's bodies. Nice regular teen definition
and smooth torsos... no hair except a bit under our
arms. Chubby is half Hispanic and half Italian so he
has a kind of swarthy tan flesh tone, very healthy
looking in my opinion. I'm the opposite... being of
Irish and English descent, I'm pale... actually a
little pasty looking in the winter. I get some color
in the sun of summer. Frankly, I wish my skin tone
was like Chub's. I have light blond hair and Chubby's
is dark brown. We both have brown eyes. He could
probably describe me much better than I can because
he's always staring at me... gets on my nerves
sometimes, but now I wish he was right here, healthy
and fit, staring at me to his heart's content.
Chubby is also kind of delicate looking. Small facial
features, small ears, very white teeth and as I've
mentioned, that dark brown, thick, silky hair. I
guess most people would say he's attractive... I don't
really pay much attention to how guys look... any guy,
not just Chubby. I don't look at girls at all either,
totally uninterested. As for me... I'll just say that
I know I'm very nice looking, but I don't put much
stock in my looks. Looks are fine as far as they go,
but don't count for much in the long run.
What the hell is going on now? .. there's loud talking
at the emergency room door again and I looked over to
see Mom and Tris bustling through... walking right
past me, on a mission, heading for the reception
desk. I get up and call out to them... hugs all
around when they see me and my Mom has dungarees for
me to change into. They both talk at once, but I get
my story about the fight out and as soon as they know
I'm OK they storm the reception desk. Tris has tears
in her eyes and curse words in her mouth. She's
insisting she see a doctor about Chubby immediately.
My mom chimes in and pretty soon there's shouting and
name calling. Shortly, out comes some authority
figure who, after more shouting, calms Mom and Tris
down.
They tell me to stay put, they're both going inside to
see how Chubby's doing. I'd like to go too, but no
one under eighteen is allowed for some stupid reason.
I put the dungarees on in the lavatory and then go
outside to smoke... stay put, my ass. I'm scared for
Chubby if you want to know the truth... he's been in
there almost an hour and a half and I wonder what all
the shouting was about..I'm worried. Who wouldn't
be?..
Every five minutes or so I'd get up to wander around
the waiting room thinking, "Where are they? What are
they doing back there?" This waiting... and not
knowing, it's brutal. Outside for another smoke, back
inside again, thinking about the odd things Chubby and
I do. Some of them are so bizarre I have to laugh out
loud. Get this... Chubby, entering puberty, began
growing hair on his legs and I didn't have any yet.
That wouldn't do in Chubby's brain. Oh my God, he
hated it! So, he started shaving his legs. He didn't
want hairy legs if I didn't have them too. I use to
laugh like crazy, but it wasn't so funny when he'd
nick himself badly... blood, scabs. It was sad, and
ugly, man.
Well, he nagged me for a few weeks and I gave in and
started shaving his legs for him, without the cuts
...this was back when we were twelve, I think.. or
maybe thirteen... and, Jesus, we're still doing it
once or twice a week right up to the present. He
shaves mine and I do his. Chubby rationalizes
everything... he goes, "Dylan, this is what the guys
on the swim team do" and I say, "Yeah, Chub, I know
that... but we're not on the swim team" and he says,
"yeah, I know that too... but if we were, this is what
we'd have to do anyway" and I say, "Yeah, but you
can't swim". And then we laugh and Chubby spouts out
a factoid, like, "Did you know, Dylan, that the 'dot'
over the small letter 'i' is called a tittle." He's
dead serious. I say, "No shit! I didn't know that."
Damn, he makes me laugh..
It's still a ritual with us now... the leg shaving.
We did it last night as a matter of fact. We wear
only jockey shorts for the leg shaving. I wet his leg
thoroughly from his crotch to his ankles first...and
then smooth on the shaving cream and shave all around
and up and down with a safety razor. We both take our
time doing it because we pride ourselves on not
nicking the other guy. Chubby takes short quick
breaths throughout the entire process.
When I'm finished with one leg Chubby pulls up his
jockey underwear at the top of that leg very tightly
and, out of breath, says, "Can you get this too
Dylan?" It's just the bottom part of his pubes, which
he insist is leg hair. When I'm shaving there I feel
his hard nuts and boner. Chubby usually cums in his
underpants before I've finished the second leg. He
did last night too. So, damn... that's one of the
other things that qualifies as some sort of sex act
that I alluded to regarding Chubby earlier.... oh,
well, the kid's just enjoying his boners. He has lots
of boners. Lucky fellow. None of the boner action
happens with me... unfortunately.
We share a cigarette, not really talking much, and
then Chub will do my legs. I don't pull my underwear
up so Chubby does it for me and shaves the lowest
portion of my pubes too. Honest to God, the feeling
of air on shaved legs, or of taking a shower with
shaved legs is awesome. After four or five days,
Chubby brings it up, "Dylan, your legs feel stubbly.
I'll shave then for you." I always say, "Oh man,
thanks Chubby. I'll do your's too" and he says, "If
you insist". I love the kid, but not as a sex object.
If he were here, and we talked about shaving our
legs, he'd have a five inch boner right quick... he's
so funny like that. Chubby and his boners, man!
Chubby has a real fetish too... maybe leg shaving is
a fetish, I really don't know if it is. His real
fetish though is a foot fetish, which I've Googled and
find it isn't really the rarest fetish of all time,
although it's pretty weird! Anyway, Chubby loves my
feet. When I'm on my computer he'll sit down at my
feet and, after a minutes, starts in with his
rationalizations, "Dylan, you don't take care of your
feet. We run over four miles every day, but you still
take your feet for granted." While he says that he's
unlacing my Nike's. He pulls off my socks saying,
"You need a foot massage. Who else but me would do
this for you Dylan?" I say, "No one but you Chubby"
and he says, "Fucking A, nobody else would do it"
And, as he starts rubbing them he'll say, "You got
long thin feet, Dylan." and he'll massage for awhile,
which is a nice feeling... then I soon feel his
tongue on the bottom of my foot and then his quivering
nostrils against some part of my foot as he inhales my
foot odor.
Ya know, foot fetish or not... it feels fucking great
to have your feet massaged. I let Chub play with my
feet anytime he wants to. Most days it's foot
massage, then noisy inhaling my foot odor, then
licking the soles, and lastly sucking on my toes.
Chub can do that for half an hour with his boner
poking out the front of his pants the entire time.
Later, he further rationalizes his behavior with
details of podiatrist and how widespread the need for
foot care actually is, especially in third world
countries... and, he says, " There are one trillion
bacteria on each of your feet... trillion, not
billion." or he'll say, "look how I take care of you,
Dylan. It's a good thing one of us pays attention to
this shit." I always tell him "thanks, you're my best
friend ever" and he says, "Fucking A, I am". Some
times he acts pissed off when he says it... I don't
know why.
I gotta laugh to myself again because he's such an
original. Other than those things, Chub and me are
just like every seventeen year old in school.. ha ha
ha... other than those minor few things. But enough
already... I get up and wander around the waiting room
contemplating another cigarette. I mean, I'm getting
a little tired of going over all these memories in my
head. What I really want to know is,"when the hell can
we get out of here?" This waiting and not knowing
anything is fucking torture...
Then, just like that... there the three of them were,
signing out at the desk. Hooray! Over I go and Chub
sees me and beams a million dollar smile at me. Damn,
I got a tear in my eye. Didn't realize until right
that second how afraid I was that he was seriously
hurt...and how much I actually care for that little
pain in the ass. Damn, I'm wiping my eyes with the
heel of my hands and Chubby is telling me, "
Everything's going to be alright, Dylan. Don't worry,
I'm OK". We hugged like we use to do on the beach as
little boys, so many years ago. Tris says, "Come on
you two. You're both alright, thank God! Let's get
the hell out of here. The cars around the corner in a
no parking zone." "What a surprise" piped up Chubby.
>From the hospital we went directly to the police
station... the Moms were pissed-off. They storm in
the station with Chubby and me standing back,
exchanging looks like, "Oh fuck, I'm glad they're not
pissed at us". Our Moms don't take shit from
anybody. They ranted at the desk and raised all kinds
of hell about the way the two cops handled things. It
took some doing, but our Moms were finally pacified
and the four of us went back to our place for
brunch... the hell with school today. The talk at
brunch was about getting even with the Chavez
brothers, but that petered out with silly suggestion
of mayhem on Circle Avenue. Mayhem, my ass... we knew
goddamn well we couldn't pull any of that shit off.
The next day we got our dungarees back, Chubby's with
rips in the knees. He got his wallet and picture of
him and his Dad back too, but the four dollars from
the wallet was missing. Later that week a judge
ordered a restraining order... no member of the Chevez
family could come within fifty feet of Chubby or me.
Chubby mumbled, "Oh fuck, I feel so safe now, except
for the minor fucking detail that I'm pretty sure the
Chavez boys can shoot somebody in the nuts from fifty
feet away, never mind the head". We decided not to
take the Circle Ave shortcut ever again.
All that week Chubby played up the head
injury/concussion angle to get me to sleep with him
upstairs in their place. He has a double bed, but we
only used about a twin bed's worth of that double. He
was tight on me with this rationalization, "Dylan, I
only feel safe right now being close to you. You
know, after the way you attacked Chico when he punched
me... getting my back like that, protecting my ass.
It's only fucking natural I should feel this way....
anyone who suffers my type of severe head injury under
similar circumstances would feel the same way." I
said "Oh for sure, dude. No problem." And there
wasn't one either. Just before going to sleep Chubby
whispered, "Dylan, did I tell you about the eye of an
ostrich's? It's fucking eye is bigger than it's
brain? I read that in the Globe this morning at the
hospital. Can you believe that shit?" I go, "Uh
huh!".
The days passed with us more or less maintaining our
routine. It was real comfortable living our life that
way. Chubby making me laugh was the only truly
unexpected part of our day. Chubby making me laugh
was usually quite unintentional on his part, which
makes it even funnier. The two of us spent an hour on
the school newspaper most days after school and not
surprisingly, the newspaper was a cliquey operation, a
lot of school activities are.
Of course, Chub and I were on the outside of that
clique, as we were on the outside of all cliques in
the school, but so are most kids. When I think about
it, we belong to the biggest clique of all... the one
where members don't belong to any clique. I work on
the newspaper because my English teacher sort of
pushed me onto the staff of reporters. Chubby isn't
actually on the staff at all, he's the supplies and
advertisements coordinator for different clubs, as
well as the school newspaper. He mostly hangs out at
the newspaper because I'm there.
The "editor" of the paper is a mean spirited, senior
boy who I'm sure is gay... his name is Carl Denton.
He picked on me before our fight with the Chavez
brothers, but afterward his interest in me intensified
and he assigned me to write a story about the mugging
which I didn't want to do. I'm all about letting
sleeping dogs lie, so I do not want to stir those
Chavez assholes up. Today he called me into his
office and asked to read what I've done so far on that
assignment. Part of my English grade is the mark he
gives me so I can't just say, "go fuck yourself"
which I'd like to do, so I bit my lip and kept a
puzzled look on my face. Carl's a heavy... well,
let's make that "fat" boy, about six foot-four inches
tall... so this is a big kid. His most noticeable
characteristic would have to be his halitosis... it
can make you lose your lunch if you aren't careful.
He says, "Oh no, Dylan, don't tell me that you don't
have some story for me today. Don't tell me that
again, OK?" I told him I was sorry, but I couldn't
get started on it... "I've got writer's block where
that mugging is concerned". Squinting at me, he
said something about my problem being closer to a
laziness issue than a writer's block one. Carl was
talking and acting especially weird today and instead
of being behind his little desk he was standing in
front of it, with me in between him and the desk.
He's an overly dramatic person who considers himself a
talented mimic and I think he was impersonating
someone famous that he assumed I'd recognize. I had
no clue who.
He kind of towered over me and leaned the roll of fat
around his waist against my skinny stomach, up near my
nipples. Just leaning on me slightly he said, "Tell
me about it." I took a deep breath and looked away
saying, "The fight was a highly traumatic experience
and writing about it is scary". He said, "Have you
ever seen the movie, " Beautiful Thing?" What that
had to do with anything was a mystery to me, although
I had seen it on cable with Chubby. It's a coming of
age, coming out gay movie involving two English
teenagers. I said, "No, I don't believe I have."
Carl turned his head to the side a little and leaned
into me harder, I could feel the tip of his hard cock
poking out under that roll of fat. He said, "You
should rent it. It might give you an idea how to
proceed with what you need to do." I looked even more
puzzled then before.
It's hard for me to think of something to say to
bizarre comments like that. Chubby would have
immediately come up with some smart ass comment. I
said, "OK, I will Carl." He did some kind of a
theatrical move of his large head and fat hand and
said, "Better idea. Why don't you come over to my
house and you can watch it with me in my bedroom on
high definition TV... I've got the DVD. Let's say,
seven tonight. We can also work together on that
mugging story you're experiencing writers block
with", and then he casually cupped the back of my
head, rubbed up from my neck and proceeded to muss my
hair on top saying, "Nice hair, Dylan". I was so
taken aback, I was speechless.
Today his breath smelled like spoiled cheese. He
leaned his head down towards me and I looked up,
wondering what the fuck was going on now, as he did
something geeky with his eyes that got my skin to
crawling. Looking at him directly, he had a big sore
looking ingrown pimple on the edge of his nose and
lots of nose hairs. I said, "Ah, tonight, you say,
Carl? I can't tonight." Now he rested his hand half
on my neck and half on my shoulder and did little
squeezes. "Change your plans, dude, I need to get to
know you better. I've got to figure out what grade to
give you and all that." I gulped and squinted back
at him as if I was considering his great idea.
Carl waited patiently for some reply from me. A lot
of his weight was pressing against me now... my ass
squished into the edge of the desk. His boner was
poking me in the crotch, sweat broke out on my
forehead and as I was wiping at it with the back of my
wrist the office door opened and Chubby says, "What
the fuck ya doing Carl? You know very well I've been
waiting out there for you to sign off on this ad from
Fongs Foods, so I can call the printer." With both
Chubby and me in there the room was packed, Carl let
out a pissed-off exhale and said gruffly to me, "What
night then, Newman?" I said, "Can ya let me check
with my Mom on that, OK?" I was squeezing along the
edge of his desk and finally escaped his bulk and
followed Chubby out.
Carl followed too and signed Chubby's reacquisition
then grabbed the back of my neck, saying, "Where do
you think you're going?" His fingers felt like fat
Italian sausages, he said, "Here, call your Mother
from my cell phone, right here". I hemmed and hawed
but finally called. The cell phone mouth piece
smelled like cheese too. I pretended to ask permission
to work at Carl's house tomorrow night, Mom said,
"Dylan darling, I trust you to do your school work
wherever you want to. You don't need to ask me." I
held my hand over the receiver and said, "She says not
tomorrow either." Carl curtly says, "Ask about
Wednesday then." I saw the futility of this charade
so I finally agreed to meet him Wednesday night at his
house. He smiled at that and actually rubbed down my
back and squeezed my ass saying, "Bring everything you
think you'll need... if you know what I mean. We can
have a little fun mixed in with work."
The second Carl was back in his cubical, Chubby was
all over me wanting to know what was going on. When I
told him he was like, "Carl Denton? You're going to
allow yourself to be in that homo's bedroom alone?
Are you out of your fucking mind? Dylan, he's queer
for you, man. Can't you see that?" Then his face got
red and a vein pulsed at the side of his forehead...
he said through his teeth, "If he pulls anything on
you, I'll push that blue-cheese-breathed motherfucker
down the steps." Chubby gets wicked protective of me
sometimes and it's so sweet, but it can make a bad
situation worse at times too. Like this situation
right here. It's a no win deal for me, OK? So what,
I let Carl feel me up a bit, we do the story and I'm
done with it. And, maybe I get a good grade too. If
Chubby gets involved, who knows where the fuck it
ends-up.
My dream is to go to an Ivy League university and I
need the grades to do that. This is just one tiny
step toward my goal. If Chubby messes with Carl, Carl
will take it out on me by giving me a bad grade. I
talked to Chubby all the way home and he promises not
to do or say anything to Carl until after Wednesday
night. When we got home we talked about it generally
with our Moms, even mentioning that Carl was probably
a homo. My Mom said, "Dylan can take care of himself.
You both can. My God, you're seventeen years old...
soon you'll be voting. Ya can't let anyone push you
around Dylan, and I don't think you will. I'm always
here for ya, sweetheart! You know that."
Chubby and me did our four mile run, our homework, and
ate our dinner. Then downstairs to watch a pre-season
Red Sox game on TV. It was the top half of the third
inning by the time Chubby was cuming in his pants,
making little groans as he humped my leg. I use to
have a dog who did the same thing... he did it to your
calf if you let him. Trooper, was his name. A little
mutt we adopted from the SPCA pound who died of old
age in his sleep one night. Chubby and me cried for a
week after he died... we were thirteen years old at
the time. But, boy oh boy, we use to laugh our little
nuts off when Trooper was humping someone's leg a mile
a minute... usually one of ours.
Now, Chubby does basically the same thing to my
thigh. He turned around after a bit and got hold of
my hand again as we quietly watching Dice K strike out
the side. I though about my recent hours in the
hospital waiting room worrying about Chubby and about
how much he means to me. No way would I do anything
to screw-up our friendship, but I was also thinking...
it's weird, but Chubby is getting his "rocks" off and
maybe I'd like to get mine off as well. This was a
recent recurring theme of mine. Not with Chubby, of
course... that would upset everything between us and
he's never even hinted he wants anything more from me
than for me to stay still while he fucks my leg... and
to let him suck on my feet, and the leg shaving... I
think that's it.
So, no, not Chubby... who then? I mean, I need to
explore my sexuality some time, don't I? Why not do
it where I can also get a side benefit. Maybe Carl
has experience with being gay, sexually I mean... I
can at least learn something. Experiment to see if
anything turns me on. Jerking off and fantasizing is
fine, but why not try for something different. Carl
is gross looking, but I'm not looking for a date ...
just some experimenting in a little sex. Maybe I'll
hate it, I won't know if I don't try it. I'm going to
think about this some more... without, needless to
say, mentioning a word to Chubby.
When a commercial came on between inning Chubby says,
"It's hard to believe, but your ears secrete more
earwax when you're afraid then when you aren't. Did
you notice any extra earwax when we were getting the
shit kicked out of us by the Chavez brothers? Did
you, Dylan" I go, "Well, no I didn't, Chub. How bout
you?" He says, "Fuck do I know?" I grunt, " Huh!" and
squeeze him with the arm he's holding onto. I'm
chuckling and Chubby twist his head around to look at
me, and with that cute face scrunched up he says,
"What the fuck you always laughing about?"
After school the next day, Carl was nice to me and
then on Wednesday, he let me go home early from
newspaper duties saying, "See ya seven o'clock, Dylan"
OK?" I'm like, "Yeah, I'll be there" and he had this
strange look on his face, like he'd just been goosed,
or something... it gave me the creeps. Chubby babbled
all the way home about the gym teacher and what a dumb
fuck the man was for thinking every boy was capable of
the same physical activities... blah, blah, blah...
"doesn't that moron know they've done studies on the
stress level of human limbs..." He always has the
strongest opinions and most bizarre facts, or
"factoids" as he calls them.
He was saying, "Of course, the human thighbone is
stronger than concrete, but it depends on the torque
...." I tuned him out on our walk home because I
wanted to think about tonight at Carls. How should I
handle this? Play it cautious of course, but keep an
open mind and learn something. I didn't think it was
going to be but it was getting to be a concern...
Carl's unattractiveness, I mean. It was getting to be
a bigger problem the closer I got to actually doing
"something" with him. I was thinking, "Why can't it
be Rob Dickers instead of Carl." Then I spent some
time wondering why I thought of Dickers... he's a kid
in my Chemistry and History classes. Well, yeah...
he's nice looking. Fuck, how shallow am I anyway?.
After dinner, before I was to head out to see Carl,
Chubby gave me a little lecture and a factoid for
tonight. "Dylan, listen to me. An average man's penis
is three times the length of his thumb... so check out
Carl's thumb and that should give you something to
think about." Instead I looked down at his stubby
thumb. Chubby didn't notice, he told me to be careful
with Carl and, most important... "Remember
everything, so you can tell me afterward". I thought
he was going to kiss me goodbye there for a
second...heh heh, just kidding. I had to walk to
Carl's house because our Moms both say they're real
sorry, but they can't afford car insurance for us and
that means... no drivers license. Chubby and I are
probably the only seventeen year olds in the entire
town of Framingham who don't have drivers licenses.
We refuse to ride our bikes in protest against our
Moms' position on the insurance issue.... so I gotta
walk.
The walk to Carl's house took about a half hour and I
got there early, at five minutes to seven. Nice eight
room house in a good, but not an especially upscale,
neighborhood. A fat, young, teen-aged girl, who
looked just like Carl, answered the door. She goes,
"Oooooh, you're soooo cute! Oh my God, I love your
haircut. It's awesomely preppy!" Carl storms over
from someplace to yell, "You make me sick Dee... get
back! Get away from him! Mother, tell Dee to return
to her cage!!" Then he looked at me and in a regular
voice said, "Come in Dylan, she's boy crazy. Follow
me." I was glad to follow... Dee rubbed my hair as I
passed by her. I tried to smile and act like a good
sport, but I really wanted to say, "Yuck! Keep your
paws to yourself, fatso."
Upstairs, in Carl's room, it was quiet and we both
acted uncomfortable. There was a double bed that
Carl's feet surely must hang off the end of when he
sleeps.. a big desk with a nice computer and flat
screen monitor, two armless, swivel chairs, and a
double chest of drawers which had a high definition TV
on top of it. Wall to wall carpeting. A hellava nice
room for a kid. Posters of the Patriots and Red Sox
Championships adorned the walls.
Carl started off formally telling me where to sit,
asking if I'd like a soda or something, and then
asking if I'd come up with any of the story yet. I
told him I'd been thinking that maybe I could do a
conciliatory story instead... bring together the
various communities, that type thing...the Hispanics
and the African Americans and the Whites. Carl said
he'd think about that. He made no mention of the
movie "Beautiful Thing", but instead asked me if I
was on MySpace.com. He accessed his MySpace as he
asked about mine. I didn't have one, I told him.
Chubby and me think they're dumb and a waste of time.
I didn't mention that to Carl. He said, "Look at mine
and tell me what stands out to you, Dylan."
Looking at his computer screen meant I was forced to
sit close to him because he hadn't moved. I looked
at the screen for awhile going, "Hmmm?" Thinking to
myself... be friendly! Then I exclaimed, "You like
only sixties music! Wow, that's unusual cause there
are some awesome bands out now. Oh my God, look how
ugly and old Mick is, all of the Rolling Stones are,
actually." I chuckled a little looking up at Carl,
who was not amused. He says, "Forget the fucking
music, look at my profile. What stands out to you?"
Now I saw immediately what he was referring to. Next
to "Orientation" he'd indicated "gay". I said,
"You're gay. Is that what you mean?"
That started him off pompously emphasizing how much
courage it takes to be who you are, and that people
with the same orientation should stick together.
"Homosexuality, Dylan, isn't a "choice" that's made,
it's "hard-copied" into those of us who are that way.
Now, if you were setting up a profile for yourself,
what would you designate as your orientation?" Man, I
had to give him props for being direct. I thought
about it a second and said, "Question mark, cause I
don't know." He said I could take his word for it,
that I was definitely a candidate for "gay" as my
orientation, and he has the gaydar to back up that
assumption. I said, "Gaydar?" and he explained that.
It was all expressed in such a matter-of-fact manner
that it put me somewhat at ease. Not that I had a
clue as to what to say next. I sat there nodding my
head like.. Oh yeah, Carl. That clears it all up for
me. He said, "As current senior editor I'm thinking of
recommending you to replace me as the senior editor
for next year, Dylan. What do you think about that?"
He had my attention now as he continued, "That'll puts
you in the good graces of Dr Calvin on the
superintendant's staff. You suck up with him just a
little bit and he'll send a glowing letter of
recommendation to assist you getting into the college
of your choice. That recommendation, my friend,
carries some weight." I said, "Thanks Carl, that's
wonderful of you."
Then we talked about my college choices and Carl told
me he was going to Brown University, which is an Ivy
League school, but not my top choice. I was kind of
excited about all this Ivy League talk and talk of me
being senior editor next year. Carl's breath tonight
reeked of onions... maybe he had onion soup for
dinner. He went through the process I'd need to follow
when applying to colleges etc.. Very helpful and
interesting information for the most part. I
pretended I liked smelling my index finger in an
effort to off-set his onion breath... a mostly
unsuccessful effort as it turned out.
After a while Carl brought the conversation back to
sex. "What kind of sex have you experienced Dylan,
and don't give me that "private, personal information"
bullshit. We're a couple of gay guys shooting the
breeze. What you say in this room, stays in this
room." I noticed he'd assigned me the "gay"
orientation already and if I don't object to it, he
wins that point... I guess. But I have to agree with
him... If I'm not gay, I'm closer to gay than anything
else. It came out kind of like a whine when I said,
"No sex really, it's an awkward thing to talk about."
Carl put his arm around my shoulders and leaned his
head down to almost touch mine, "It's OK Dylan, but
you're worse off than I thought. You need a mentor
and I'm going to be a mentor for you because I admire
your writing, and because you're the cutest kid I've
ever seen." When he said the "cutest kid" thing he
said it in a fast, humorous voice, impersonating
another famous person I didn't recognize, and then he
chuckled and hugged my shoulders and said, "Come on
Dylan, lighten-up just a touch. OK? Most people get
hysterical at my Jerry Lewis impersonation. I said,
"Who's that?"
Then I tried to chuckle and his forehead touched the
top of my head... he left it there to say, "We'll
start out just getting use to the feel of each other.
I don't want to go too fast, especially in light of
the fact that you've never had any sexual experience
at all. Wow, you're seventeen and nothing
sexual...girl or boy?". Once again, I wasn't sure if
that was a statement or a question. I waited a second
and then said, "Yeah! Huh!" figuring that sort of
covers a "yes" and a "no". He went on, "First thing
you got to realize is that I'm a senior and therefore
I have a lot more experience, in everything, than
you... certainly where sexual matters are involved.
Secondly, I'm fond of you and want to help you. OK?"
When I didn't say anything this time, he shook me
gently and said, "OK, Dylan?" I said, "OK Carl, but
I'm not real sure what you mean."
Standing up to his full height he said, "Get up with
me. Now turn around and lean back on me, Dylan. You
must learn to trust me." I leaned back against him
stiffly. His big bulging stomach made it even more
weird then it had to be. He loosely put his arms
around me and hugged me into him saying, "Just enjoy
the feel of another male body." He swayed us back and
forth a little and he rested the side of his face on
the top of my head saying softly, "You have the most
beautiful shade of blond hair I've ever seen. By any
chance, do you have it highlighted?" I was breathing
with little gasps because this was seriously weird-ing
me out... I managed to say, "No, Carl. It's just my
own hair." Then nervously I added, "Heh heh, oh.. but
thanks for the compliment". I was totally off balance
and nervous.
I didn't know what I was suppose to do. I didn't know
if this would help or hurt me, but I remembered very
well Carl saying he was going to nominate me to be
senior editor next year... and that is a big deal.
Christ! I hadn't been at all confident that they'd
even be asking me back as a reporter. Carl had said
something that I missed and I go, "I'm sorry, what was
that?" He gives me the short version of whatever he'd
said, "I'm going to brush the front of your pants,
stay still, OK?" I stood still, thinking, "brush my
pants, what the..?" and he repeated, "OK?" and this
time I said "OK". His big hand lightly brushed
against my crotch, then again and again a little
firmer. He left his hand there, right against my
cock... it didn't move, my cock I mean... and neither
did I.... and neither did his hand.
"You feel that, right, Dylan?" I go, "Un huh" and he
takes hold of my whole package in his large hand and
squeezes it.. my nuts move around in their little sack
and my soft cock molds to the curvature of Carl's
hand. "Feel OK, Dylan?" I go, "Un huh" and he does a
light massage and then a little tighter massage and
keeps it up for two minutes until my dick starts to
slightly stiffen. That's when Carl, from the outside
of my pants, begins to stroke the uncut skin of my
penis up and down using only two fingers and his
thumb. Neither of us spoke, and as my dick gets
harder and harder I realized I was laying fully back
against Carl now, concentrating on my boner. No one
has ever touched it except me so this was a new
sensation. I took a big breath and Carl whispers,
"Nice and easy, Dylan. You're doing great. Undo your
pants now, and I'll get you on your bare skin."
Once again, the matter-of-fact way all this was
happening went a long way toward making it seem, OK.
I'm aware young teens often jerk each other off... at
least I've read that's so. Chubby and me never did it
and I certainly never did it with anyone else. Of
course, Carl and I are a little too old for this, but
it felt good anyway. I undid my pants and they caught
at my knees. Through just my boxer shorts now, he
groped my cock and balls some before starting-up with
more strokes... my dick was really getting hard now.
Stopping again he says, "Get your boxers down,
Dylan... I told you I want to do you bare." I pulled
them down and that first feel of someone's bare hand,
other than mine, on my bare cock, had me going... "Ahh
Ah Oh!" with short, fast breaths.
Carl had his head bent down and was nuzzling the side
of his face against the side of mine. Shortly he was
doing full length strokes on my fully erect boner.
The uncut foreskin going up and over the head of my
cock and then pulled down and off the head and back up
on the head... pretty much the way it went when I
stroked it. I was leaning back into Carl harder and
harder the faster he stroked me, and then finally up
on my toes and "Aggg, agg, oh! I'm cuming Carl, I'm
cuming!!" Five short strings of cum splattered
against the side of his desk as he continued to stroke
my boner. It felt real good. Carl slowed down and
turned me slowly around. His face was a dark pink...
he undid his pants saying, "OK, now you do me, Dylan".
I was still snorting out breaths from my own climax,
but I nodded my head. Fair is fair...
He pulled out his average size, cut, boner and I
jerked him off standing at his side. That wasn't as
good an angle as standing behind him, like he'd done
to me, but I wouldn't be able to reach around to
stroke his cock standing behind his fat ass and
reaching around his fat stomach. Anyway, he got off
real good the way I did it. A lot more cum shot out
of Carl's cock against the side of that desk than had
shot out of mine. He grunted with each shot and his
whole massive body shuddered like mad when he was
done. "Oh fuck!" he said, "I've got to sit down."
Then after thirty seconds of heavy breathing he
motioned with his fingers for me to step over to him.
In a trance, I did and he pulls me onto his bare lap
with my bare ass sitting on his huge thighs. This was
too weird and I tried to wiggle off, but he held me
on.
"No, Dylan. You need to get use to this. Believe me,
I understand it's freaky to you just now, but you'll
get use to it soon enough and you'll wind-up loving
it. I see it in you, you're going to love gay sex.
Come on, lay back against me." I was surprised that
after five minutes I was comfortable on his lap. I
think the differences in our size helped with that
comfortable feeling. I started to say something and
Carl goes, "Shhh, Dylan. Let's just get use to each
other... the way we feel to each other. OK?" I
nodded my head because it was so very, very odd and
this experience had taken a lot of my energy
already... frankly, I was tired. After five more
minutes I lulled my head back against Carl's
shoulder... the top of my head reached to just under
his nose. I felt like a little kid.
Carl gently rubbed my shoulders and chest and after a
while began whispering how wonderful he thought I was.
He knew much more about me, about my grades, and
generally about me being kind of a dweeb in High
School, and all kinds of things... like I said, much
more about me than I'd ever have guessed he'd know.
Then he told me I need to change that dweeb image and
I need to get closer to the main stream of High School
life. That is, if I wanted to get into an Ivy League
University. They cared about extra curricular
activities and clubs and team participation and that
sort of thing. He told me he was mentoring me with
all this advise and he hoped I appreciated it. I had
to agree he made a lot of sense. We stayed that way
for maybe a half hour and I was sleepy/relaxed when he
said, "One more time, Dylan, and then you'll have to
head on home."
With that he said, "Sit up now"...I did, and he wacked
me off as I sat on his lap. I got harder quicker this
time and before I shot the small second load I felt
his rock hard cock against my buttock and it made me
think, for the first time tonight, about my fantasy
mystery boy fucking me while I jerk-off. That through
got me to fire off a little bit harder. I squirmed on
his lap and moaned as my head pressed back against his
shoulder. Carl jerked on my cock for over a minute
after I climaxed and then said, "Finish me off
knelling between my legs. You need to get use to
being in that position anyway" and he was slipping me
off his lap as he said it. I knelt down there between
his large legs and jerked his cock for him.. two
minutes, tops, and he fired off a nice second load of
cum... some of it got on me. Ick!
Carl, rested his head back against his chair and
breathed deeply for a minute, me still trapped between
his legs, sort of under the desk. "OK, Dylan, let's
go. I'll help you" and he stood up and took my hands
to help pull me up. Let's end with a hug, OK?" and he
wrapped me up in his arms, saying... "Hold around my
waist tight" and when I did my arms wouldn't reach all
the way around. He kissed the side of my forehead at
least a dozen times, me standing still for them.
Each kiss he held on my forehead a few seconds. If it
was somebody else, that might have felt really nice.
Nice because it's special to be 'desired' like that.
Even though it was Carl, I think my dick still moved a
little by the time he was giving me the last couple of
longish, wet kisses.
We pulled our underwear and pants back up and then
went into Carl's small bathroom to neaten-up. Carl
said off-handedly, "We'll do this once a week for
starters and see if we develop chemistry together. If
something special happens between us, we'll do it
more often. Make it every Wednesday at seven, OK,
Dylan?" He's constantly catches me off guard with the
"business-as-usual" way of talking when, in fact,
he's talking about the most unusual thing ever in my
life. But, be that as it may, I replied, "OK Carl,
whatever you say" and Carl said, again in a pompous
manner, " Well, I'll mentor you using all my
knowledge and experience, but it's up to you how much
you apply yourself, how much you get out of it." I
wasn't sure if he was referring to helping me get in
an Ivy League college or teaching me about gay sex. I
started heading for the door when he said, to himself,
it seemed... "Why not try one last thing" and he
turned me around, leaned down, and kissed me on my
lips.
That kiss was a shock and I never expected him to do
it again, but he did.. and this time he ran his fat
mushy, onion smelling tongue all along under my lips.
I gagged and he put his tongue in my mouth and moved
it around for a minute... it seemed much longer than a
minute. That kissing maneuver is going to have to be
scrapped and put away, never to be seen again... but
right now I didn't want to make a point of it because
up till that disgusting kiss all was going OK. I
pulled my head away and said, "That's enough, OK
Carl?"
He said, "Well, we'll agree that it's enough for now
Dylan, but making out with you is so hot! You'll
probably wind up loving all these things I'm teaching
you." I go, "Ha ha, I'm so sure" trying to keep it
light, like he said I should, and we went downstairs.
With his Mom and Dad there I said a quick goodbye to
them and hustled out the door, Carl right behind me.
Outside, on the front step of his house, Carl quietly
said, "I knew you were quality people, Dylan.
Tonight went excellently and I'm determined to mentor
you to the extent you deserve." I wondered what that
meant... "extent I deserve"?
Carl asked, "What special area would you like to
explore next time?" Honest to God, I still can't
believe it, but I mumble out, "Would you be willing to
try to, you know.. anal, Ah...you know, fuck me,
Carl." He looked shocked and then, speaking an inch
from my ear, he said, "You bring the condoms ... good
ones, not some cheapies, and I'll do you up real
good." I nodded my head and then, God damn if I
didn't say, "Thanks, Carl. Thanks for everything!"
He patted my head like I was a good boy and off I
went.
Walking home real slow to give me time to make sense
of tonight. It wasn't that I was freaked out about it
or anything. I was rational in my thinking... we
didn't do anything particularly outrageous or
"naughty"... no more naughty than happens millions of
times each day. And, I had learned some things. For
one, it feels good having someone jerk you off even if
you don't particularly like the person doing it.
Another thing I learned is... it didn't do anything
for me sexually to jerk off Carl. And, absolutely
positively, kissing is NOT going to make it with me
and, lastly, I found out I have more guts than I
thought I had.
I'm not sorry I went to Carl's tonight and I'm not
sorry I asked him to fuck me either... although, like
I said, I'm shocked I had the guts to ask for it.
All these years I've been fantasizing about it in
exquisite detail, about a boy fucking me... and now
I'll find out what it's all about for real. Wish it
was a boy other than Carl though. Damn, there's that
shallow thought again as if "looks" are real
important... he's got a dick, doesn't he? Jeez,
that's all it takes.
By ten o'clock that night Chubby and I were getting
ready for bed. He's taking a leek and I'm brushing my
teeth.. Chubby says, "The human bladder is roughly the
size of a soft ball, right?" With a mouthful of
toothpaste I mutter, "Soft ball?" and he says, "Yeah.
So where's all this piss coming from. A soft ball
couldn't hold all this." I spit after gargling and
said, "Fuck if I know" and then I hop in Chubby's bed.
"How long ya think I'm going to have to keep ya
company sleeping with ya?" He says angrily, "You'll
be the first to know, Dylan. When I don't want you
to sleep with me, you'll be the first person I tell"
... he was hurt. Then after ten seconds, in a much
meeker manner he asked, "You don't want to Dylan? We
use to sleep together all the time." Then he was real
still and quiet.
I didn't let the silence build because Chubby gets his
feelings hurt wicked easily... I said, "Oh no, Chubby.
I like sleeping with you, it's just we haven't done a
lot of it since we were like... what?, ah... ten
fucking years old, ya know? Come on over here though,
I'll give my best friend in the world a hug." He
rolled right over and I hugged him with both arms.
"I'm no pussy, Dylan. I just need you close by me for
a little while longer." I suggested we get some sleep
and after about five minutes Chubby quietly says,
"Thanks for sticking with me, Dylan."
Earlier tonight he wanted every detail of my encounter
with Carl. I mentioned not a single word about what
actually happened sexually, instead lied about stuff
we did. And, I don't feel good about it either, but
what else could I do? My lie was that we were
actually working on a story for the newspaper and, oh
yeah... I was honest about Carl volunteering to be my
mentor and about him nominating me to be senior
editor. Chubby was relieved that's all there was to
it, but was pissed I'd have to do it again next
Wednesday. He whined that he missed me and that it's
no fun being home alone... "boring", he said it was.
And, he said he was worried about me too.
Next day, back in school, all newspaper activities
were now pleasant ones for me. Carl was very
courteous to me now ...and soon others on the paper
followed his lead. They began to recognize that I was
more important around here then was previously thought
to be the case. Most people are followers... they
easily accepted that my stock had skyrocketed and some
were actually brown-nosing with me. Chubby and I came
and went as we pleased... it was fine with the boss,
Carl.
The next Tuesday Carl called me into his office and
told me to lock the door. He said he was looking
forward to our meeting tomorrow night and, trying to
sound upbeat, I said, "Yeah, me too for sure!". I
told him I was nervous about it, but real curious.
Carl said, "You are so cute and innocent, I've been in
here thinking about you" then he wiggled his finger
for me to come to him. When I walked over he wrapped
me in his arms and began with the kissing on the mouth
again. I twisted my head and said, "Jeez, wait a
second." He stopped, asking "Wussup?" Thinking to
myself, I can't do the kissing, I just can't. So,
taking a deep breath and taking a chance on blowing
the senior editor job, I came right out and told him
that kissing wasn't going to be part of anything he
and I were doing.... ever.
To my amazement he immediately said, "OK, Dylan.
Right! No more kissing. You're the one needing the
mentoring, right? I'm just trying to teach you how to
go about things. We're still on for tomorrow night,
right Dylan?" Relieved that everything seemed fine, I
nodded my head "yes" and then, testing to see if I was
still in good standing here, I said, "Any problem if
Chubby and me just take off now?" Carl was like,
"No! No problem, Dylan...."
Walking home, Chubby was on a rant about the Junior
prom. "It really sucks that you weren't even
nominated to be "king" of the prom. I put your name
in the box... and they don't even acknowledge it?
Whats up with that? Darren Lewis is nominated along
with that dork, Bob Leadert? Who is shitting who?
Dylan, you're much better looking then either of those
dorks. It's so unfair." I said, "Jesus, Chubby, I'm
not even going to the prom, I don't give a shit who's
the King... or Queen, for that matter." Chubby
wouldn't let it go, " It's a fucking conspiracy of
morons."
Chubby lights up a cigarette, takes a drag and passes
it to me. I take a drag and say, "To answer your
question, it's a clique...like most things in High
School. Fuck, like most things in the world, maybe."
He gives the last word on the matter, "Fuck em!" and
after a minute or so I ask, "You going to the prom?"
Chubby says, "Not now, but I could have. Carol
Demarso asked me to go. She's got a wicked crush on
me and I could get in her pants with one hand tied
behind my back. Fuck her proper with my big bad
boy... make her happy, but forget about it if you're
not going."
He goes on to tell me that her nose is too big for her
face and anyway... her tits are huge..."grossing me
out. Ya know?" I said, "Hey, how about we go
together. We could practice dancing together and wear
matching tuxedos" Chubby gets furious, "Now you've
gone too far, Dylan. There are some things ya don't
fucking kid about, and being a fag is one of them."
We walk in silence with me trying not to snicker.
He's taking a drag off our Marlboro light and I say,
"Does that mean you're turning me down, Chub, is that
what I'm hearing?" His face gets red, "I told ya,
don't fuck around... we could get a reputation if guys
hear that kind of joking.." I said, "Kiss me Chubby,
kiss me" and he flicks the cigarette butt at me as I
take off. We ran the rest of the way home... man, I
love to run. It makes your whole body feel good. All
the blood rushing around inside ya... it's a high!
After talking with our Moms for fifteen minutes we go
out for our regular four mile run. Walking towards
the park, Chubby says, real serious like... "The
average person's skin weights twice as much as their
brain." I laugh at the non sequitur and say, "Does
that include thin skinned boys". Chubby says, "What do
ya mean by that?" God, he's so much fun... what would
I do without Chubby. Ever since the scare at the
hospital I've been noticing and appreciating Chubby
more and more. It's like I took him for granted all
these years. His sparkly, bright eyes and his
smallish, straight nose... the little boy grin and the
shy way he has when he's given a compliment. Just
before we start running I hug Chubby around the neck
and say, "I love ya, bro" and he goes, "Don't start
breaking my balls again, Dylan" and off he runs with
me trying to catch-up, thinking.. "Damn, wish I had
Chubby's complexion... he looks hot".
Wednesday night I'm back ringing the doorbell at
Carl's. He answers this time, no tubby sister in
sight. I follow Carl up to his bedroom and he says,
"Let me see the condoms". It took some balls, me
buying those things, but I'm wicked curious to see how
this is going to feel so in the drugstore, I just held
my breath and handed two packets of an expensive brand
condom to the lady at the register....they cost two
days lunch money. The lady rung them up without even
glancing at me. Carl says, "Yeah, these are good" and
he tears one open, but leaves it in the wrapper. "OK,
Dylan, you got to get me hard first. What the hell,
you're going to have to learn how anyway... so, you'll
do it by blowing me, Let's see, to start with you
don't have to get on your knees, you can sit on the
bed... that should be the right height." He is one
direct bastard alright. He comes right out with this
stuff as if he's saying pass the potatoes... which, by
the look of him, he's said quite often over the
years.
Carl had his pants undone and was playing with himself
absently as he explained, "I've only fucked one guy...
my cousin. Just him, but over the last two summers
I've done him maybe twenty-five times.. or more. So,
I know what I'm doing. You need to get out of your
pants and underwear completely." And, just like that,
I started feeling totally awkward and I hesitated as
Carl bit his lip, played with himself, and stared at
me. I had an internal battle with myself, trying to
get myself to pull down my pants. So far, I'd gotten
no further than unsnapping my jeans and Carl says, in
a sympathetic way, "I know it's difficult doing
something for the first time. We don't have to do it
tonight if you don't want to. It's OK." That proved
to be the deciding factor... his unexpected
understanding manner.
He stood there with a questioning look on his face and
his dick in his hand... before I could change my
mind, I roughly pulled down my pants and boxers
together and steps out of them. My dick and nuts were
sort of shriveled up and I felt self conscious about
that, but Carl wasn't paying attention to my dick.
"No, I'm wrong" he says, "the bed is too high,
Dylan... you'd have to scrunch down too much. Here,
for starters, sit on this stool. In the future you'll
have to do it on your knees... that's the was I make
my cousin do it." My bare ass was chilly sitting on
the cool wood, but sitting there had my head even with
Carl's penis, which was already half a stiffy. I
hadn't anticipated sucking his dick, but, there it was
in front of me. It's didn't smell like anything as I
took it in my hand, thank God. Carl had gotten me use
to touching his penis last week so maybe he does know
what he's doing.
He was making little impatient hip movements with his
wide, fat waist... so I closed my eyes and licked the
head of his cock. It didn't taste like anything. I
might just as well be licking a piece of wood as far
as the taste goes. Well, as far as the texture goes
too because Carl's cock was getting hard fast. I
better hurry, so I put it in my mouth and sucked on it
trying to think of something else... something other
than "I have some boy's penis in my mouth". I tried
to pretend I had a fat wood dowel in my mouth. A
round, smooth, fat wood, dowel with a tulip shaped
cock head at the end. Oh man, get a grip!
Fuck, this sucks! I licked it some more, Carl said,
"Stroke it while you're sucking it. Use your tongue
more and suction with your lips and tongue at the same
time... and remember, stroking it all the time". I
made my mind as blank as I could and did as he asked.
After about three minutes I couldn't imagine his cock
possibly getting any harder. Surely it's hard enough
to fuck me with. My dick felt like it was slipping up
inside me. The exact opposite of what Carl's dick was
doing so, obviously... I was not turned on even a
little bit so far.
As I sucked his cock Carl made grunting sounds and ran
his fingers through my hair. Just as I was about to
pull my mouth off his boner to ask how much longer I
had to suck it, Carl goes, "Ohhh" and a fine spray of
liquid comes out his pee slit into my mouth. I pull
my head back going "aaaggghhh, shit !!.. you peed in
my mouth. Or was it cum?" and then I spit in his
waste basket three times. Picking up the condom, Carl
said, "Ohhh, that felt good. It was precum, Dylan. OK
we're all set, get up, turn around, and bend over...
hold onto the desk, I'll give you your first fuck
now."
Happy the cock sucking was over with, I did exactly
what he'd told me to do. Carl, matter-of-factly comes
out with... "It might hurt at first... probably a lot,
but don't scream or my parents will hear you. Just
bare it, OK." I nodded my head, "yes". Feeling real
nervous now. "Stick your ass up, Dylan. Good, keep
it up like that, you're shorter than me." Carl
started bumping the end of his boner against my hole,
the condom squishy with some kind of lubricant. Each
bump got firmer until the head of his cock went inside
me... and, broke something in there. I was seeing
black dots streaming in my head and the burning pain
caused tears to roll down my face. I thought, "Well,
he did warn me."
Carl quietly goes, "Oh yeah, this is what it's all
about. Relax your body, I'm pushing up your tunnel
now". And boy did he ever... all the way up as I made
rapid slurping sounds, sort of like a mantra, to get
my mind off the pain. When he was all the way up
there he pulled back steadily and pushed back up, and
then did it again... slowly, but steadily, a few more
times and much of the pain faded. He soon started a
much quicker humping ... very confidently and steady
now. I thought of my fantasy and realized that while
this didn't hurt so much anymore, it also didn't feel
all that great either. That is until he grabbed me by
the hips and pulled me up higher, onto my toes.
All of a sudden, in the higher position, just like my
fantasy... every time the fat head of his swollen cock
massaged a certain spot in my hole I felt this awesome
sensation. I tried to get up even higher on my toes
and now, when his hard boner was going up and pulling
back down... both ways it hit that spot and got my
dick feeling tingling and fine like when I'm jerking
myself off, ready to cum. Carl was grunting and
smacking my ass with each pile driving hump now and I
was getting a boner without even touching it...Hot
Shit!!.. that was so cool. A couple of minutes
later my stomach tightened, I squeaked out "Ahhh", and
watery cum did a soft spurt out of my cock a few
times. Then a harder string of cum and overall it was
an odd climax, but it felt better then when I jerked
myself off. My thought was, "Oh my God, I'm actually
cuming from being fucked!"
I had to tighten my sphincter each time I squeezed cum
out of my nuts and that got Carl making gargling
sounds in his throat and then he lay his stomach on my
back and really humped hard into me three times and
held the last one way up in me tight, doing little
humps and making whimpering sounds. I felt spit drool
out of his mouth onto my head as he moaned, "Oh fuck.
It's been awhile, but that is a freaking awesome
feeling. Whoa.." Then something warm was drooling
down the inside of my thigh... over-heated lube from
the condom I guess.
My heart was pumping to beat the band and I was
breathing like I just ran a fast four miles. Jesus, I
gotta say, that did feel good. I see what all the
fuss is about now. I said, "Could you get off my back
please, Carl. You're heavy." He struggled up and
pulled his softening cock out of me. "Ahh ahh" that
felt good too. We breathed deeply for a minute and
then from Carl, "Ok, how was it." I told him it was
great, thanks. He said, "We'll rest for an hour and
I'll do you again, slower this next time". I was up
for that. My ass was a little sore, but I wanted to
feel that "feeling in my hole" again. The one that
made my ass buzz and my dick vibrate.
The second time, using the second condom, his entrance
still hurt, but not as much... and I kept my ass way
up so I got that special extra awesome sensation right
from the first trip up my tunnel. He fucked me for
twenty minutes, some of it frantic near the end...
that's when I had my second climax. It didn't match
my first, but the twenty minutes of fucking felt good
and I wasn't disappointed. Carl was spent by the end
of that twenty minutes and collapsed on his bed
mumbling, " this is fantastic". He told me to come
lay with him and we'd make out for a while. I gave
him a look like "are you kidding" and he remembered
the "no kissing" rule and said, "Oh yeah, never
mind... forget it.".
By the time I left for home my hole was very sore and
the walk back sucked. My ass also was squishy with
the lube from the condom, but all in all it was a
successful experience. It had felt real good, but
maybe in retrospect, not "zoom, to the moon" kind of
good like I fantasized about... not even close,
actually. So, maybe that's all there is. Maybe
that's all there is and maybe it's not all there is...
Carl wants to fuck me in different positions next
time. That might increase the "hot" factor some...
we'll see. It's a work-in-progress. Carl kind of
insisted I come over twice a week, not just the once,
and I gave in pretty easily, but now I've got to tell
Chubby that he'll be alone twice a week. That'll piss
him off for sure.
Coming into the family room saying "Hi" to Chubby, I
was careful not to groan or walk with a limp or
anything like that, but my ass was definitely hurting.
Halfway home I'd felt like I had to take a crap...
and a little later was afraid I wouldn't make it home
in time. When I told Chubby about Carl insisting on
the twice a week thing, amazingly he didn't get mad.
Instead he hesitated and, I know him so well... I knew
he had something to tell me that he too didn't want to
say.
Finally he blurts it out fast. "Jeez, Dylan.. This is
some good news and some bad news. You know how we
want to get our drivers license, right?" I nod my
head and he talks fast explaining that a friend in his
homeroom finally got him a part-time job with
Framingham Window Cleaners... washing windows. I'd
been aware for a while that Chubby had his name, and
mine, on that company's waiting list. Hoping, of
course, we'd both get hired. The homeroom kid's
father is the foremen and picked Chubby's name ahead
of others in line, as a favor to his son.
"It's who-ya-know in this world, Dylan. So I get in
ahead of other people, but your name is still back in
the pack. Maybe by the summer we'll be working
together." Chubby will start out making nine dollars
an hour, which is important because the whole idea of
this is to save all the wages to pay for our car
insurance... and then we can get our drivers license.
Chubby went on... "That's the good part, the bad part
is I've got to miss our four mile run, and the
newspaper stuff after school and, well.. everything in
our routine before dinner... and I'll have to do my
homework after dinner. Maybe you'll wait to do yours
then too...so we can do it together." He was proud of
himself for getting the job on the one hand, but... on
the other hand, he was sad because our time together
would be seriously reduced. There are changes in life
and one must adjust... that's what we ended up telling
each other.
With Chubby working after school, I switched seeing
Carl from night time to right after we worked on the
newspaper. As time went by it got to the point where I
was going over to his place three times a week. He
fucked me in many different positions, although we
both liked doggy style best in the end. The more he
fucked me, the more he melded into this real softy
wuss. It was like I was the one actually in charge of
this situation and that was fine with him as long as I
let him fuck me. He was buying all the condoms by now
too, and they weren't cheap... plus we had pizza and
drinks that he'd buy... like that. Near the end
there, he would have jumped through hoops if I told
him too. Jump through hoops maybe, but he wouldn't
give in on the thing I wanted.
After a couple of weeks I tried to switch it around so
I could get him to suck me off and then I'd fuck
him... see how that felt. To that idea Carl said he
couldn't even consider it. He explained he was what
is called a "top". He actually seemed real sorry,
but he told me that some guys just can't bottom. He
acted kinda hesitant about everything, as if I might
say "fuck it then". I didn't say it that day, but
after thinking about it for another week or so I did
end our arrangement.
It's like... I enjoyed getting fucked at first, but
after a while I was missing my four mile run and he
wouldn't give in to switching it around...so I finally
told him, "Sorry, Carl, but your fuck mentoring is
over." He bitched a little, but the truth is he's a
senior and the senior class gets out of school four
weeks before the rest of us. They have senior trips
and special activities and all kinds of stuff to
do... activities out the ying yang. They'll actually
have their graduation two whole weeks before the rest
of us even get off for summer vacation... so, Carl's
fucking days with me would have come to an end soon
anyway. He had already nominated me to replace him
as the new senior editor and I'd been officially
approved by the high school principal. Carl and I
parted on good terms, but I never really got to "like"
him as a person... he was just a fuck partner... and
he turned into a wimpy one at that.
Analyzing the entire episode during my walk home from
his house that last time I came to the conclusion it
had been a useful learning experience, but a
disappointing one too. I'd read on the net all about
climaxing and about how "rockets" are suppose to go
off in your head when you do it, and it was suppose to
be the thrill of all thrills etc etc.. and that's how
I had my fantasy set-up. The real thing.. sure, it
felt good, but not even a cap gun was going off there
at the end, never mind a rocket. And, the more
maudlin, more of a wussy girly boy Carl became, that
made it even less exciting then it was in the
beginning..
Near the end I was thinking that it wasn't even worth
the trouble. Of course, I haven't fucked someone
myself yet...so, maybe that will be closer to what I
was hoping the experience would be like. I'm hoping
that me fucking some boy will be the sexual
experience that finally has me "shooting to the moon".
The most disappointing aspect of all this is that I
wasted so many fantasies on that mystery boy fucking
me... when I finally got someone to actually do "it"
to me, it was OK, but not, WOW, like my fantasy.
Chubby and me were meeting at dinner every night and I
noticed we'd become real touchy/feely with each other.
We both missed our afternoon "routine activities"
together. Hell, I missed Chubby, period. Before
dinner lately I was massaging his shoulders and his
right hand and forearm. You wouldn't think cleaning a
window would be that big a deal, but it is. It gets
harder on your hands each hour. Chubby was on the
"rag squad", not the squeegy squad which was less
stressful on fingers and hands, but harder on arms.
His fingers, especially the index and middle ones,
ached all day from using them to force the cleaning
rag into the corners of each fixed-pane window.
The crew Chubby was on had to do all the little
windows and all those corners, as I said, were the
killers. Chub said, "Four hours seems like
twenty-four hours when you're washing windows". Man,
I felt for him, but Chubby is a bull dog... he'll
never quit. We did our homework sitting close
together at my small desk and then downstairs to sit
tight together watching the Red Sox on TV every night.
I enjoyed how Chubby's body felt and I admired his
toughness and, basically, I liked everything about my
little best friend.
Chubby did the same laying on my arm while watching
TV, and then the humping on my leg as always, but now
I was participating a little more by holding him
around his back with both my arms and running my
fingers through his hair and humping up with my leg
slightly in rhythm with him. He would let out moans
when doing cum spurts in his pants and I'd rub his
shoulders and the back of his neck and head gently.
We still never mentioned any of this, but now when he
turned back over to watch the game he'd position
himself further up on my side so the top of his head
was against my cheek instead of my shoulder.
Half the time, without really thinking about it, I'd
be giving Chub little hugs too, not just him hugging
my arm like it use to be. I was really enjoying
Chubby's smell too. I'd smelled him all my life and
never took notice until now. Recently, I liked to
inhale a big breath smelling the boyish oder coming
off that hot little body of his... or take little
whiffs of his hair when he was leaning the top his
head against my cheek. It was fun somehow, and sexy
too. After awhile he'd say the "we're not queer"
routine and I'd say my lines and all was right with
the universe for a while longer. Lately, it isn't
unusual for me to get a boner from the bodily contact
and that was new, and nice... boners always feel good.
After bidding goodbye to Carl and the gay sex
experiment I seemed to be appreciating Chubby more in
all kinds of ways. Maybe it was partially because I'd
realized, while waited in the hospital after the
fight, how much he's a part of my life. It's odd how
perspectives change... for example, we've been giving
each other haircuts since we were fourteen years old
and as of late I like it that he fusses with my hair,
where before it annoyed me. Now I'm disappointed when
he's done my haircut in only a half hour. I wanted to
fuss with his hair too, except now he says most of the
window cleaning guys have buzz cuts because of the
heat and that's what he wants too. Fuck, buzzcuts
only take only four or five minutes. It was also
making me jealous how he's all the time talking about
the boys he works with... especially that kid, Ricky,
from his homeroom, who got him the job. It use to be
all Chubby and me... now he knows a group of guys that
I'm not part of.
Chubby still likes the cuddling and he still loves the
legs shaving so I try to pay more attention to those
activities then I use to. I'm always asking him to
check out my feet too, "Chubby, do my feet seem
alright to you. The arch hurts."... bullshit like
that. Chubby get's busy playing with my bare feet and
licking them and all his foot fetish stuff. That's
what I want now, Chubby's attention. I want Chubby
to begin staring at me all the time like he use to in
the old days. It just isn't the same anymore.
I'm back to fingering my hole while jerking off again
too... again pretending the mystery boy is fucking me
with all the details of old. Carl is never on my mind
and he most certainly isn't the mystery boy. I
wondered at times if Chubby would ever consider it...
being my mystery boy, I mean. Not too long ago I was
afraid of losing our friendship or altering it somehow
by being sexually involved together. Now, the
friendship is already altered with Chubby's job and
his new friends, so, so what? So, maybe Chubby and
I could experiment with a little "buddy" gay sex,
that's all I'm saying.
There is a major problem with that though. Chubby has
always carried-on about not being gay. He's not a
slave to facts, or to reality for that matter...
Chubby sees things the way he wants to see them and if
we did some buddy sex, then he wouldn't be able to go
into that "we're not queers" routine of his. No...
the more I think about this, Chubby would have to be
the one to approach it. Of course, maybe I've been
misreading him for years... maybe I'm the only gay one
here. So what if he gets off humping my leg, teens do
circle jerks for years too, and few of them carry it
any further.
Screw it! I'll keep my eyes open and see if an
opportunity presents itself. Carl did one thing for
me for sure... he cleared the way for me to explore my
sexuality a bit. I was in a holding pattern until
Carl came along... the fat fuck! That fight with the
Chavez brothers was significant too because it was the
beginning of my new appreciation for Chubby.
Appreciate him in more than just my "best bud" way, I
mean. Yesterday, after dinner and after our homework
was done, we did haircuts for each other... the Red
Sox on TV in the background. He wanted the buzz cut,
but to drag it out a little I did my version of a
burr haircut which Chubby liked OK.
He went upstairs to take a shower right after that and
five minutes later Manny hits a grand slam homerun.
Manny Ramirez is Chubby's favorite baseball player so
I ran upstairs to tell him about it. Chubby's just
coming out of the bathroon after his shower, drying
his short hair, completely naked which is normally no
big deal, except now I'm hooked on looking at Chub's
body.
I tell him about the grandslam, we high five and start
discussing the Yankee series coming up next week. And
I'm thinking... Chubby is the boner king of seventeen
year old boys, but I've never seen him get a boner
looking at me naked. That's more evidence that maybe
I got him all wrong, and he doesn't have a "thing" for
me after all. BUT, even more surprising then that
thought, is this one... I got the boner! Chubby's
the boner king, but my dick is the one that turned
into a stiffy looking at his naked body... recently
that's what's been happening. So, damn!... what's
going on here? Total role reversal, or what?
I can't stop looking at Chubby. He's small, like I've
said he's five feet, six inches tall and all of about
one hundred and fifteen pounds. That's little
alright, but everything about him is perfectly
proportioned... he's just a smaller version of a very
toned, smooth, perfect, regular sized teenage boy's
body. He has muscle definition in his biceps and
calfs, a tight belly with a few ab muscles showing and
a twenty-seven inch waist. Nice pecs too. Needless
to say, hairless body... the only hair would be on his
legs, but they're shaved. His body isn't the clssic
V-tapered body type, but very well put together
none-the-less. All natural too... Chubby's never done
any weight training.
His cock is the perfect size for the rest of him too.
Very nice sac of nuts and a neat looking pubic patch.
His rounded buttocks are so squeezable and that
fantastic olive complected skin tone, without a
blemish. Ah jeez, I got that boner thinking about
getting naked and laying in bed with him... that's
what's in my head. His face with the sunburned nose
from the sun, cleaning windows outside... it's so
cute, all those small facial features are too, and the
grin with his big eyes and that butch, burr haircut.
Ya know what?... he looks like some perfect teen boy
from the fifties or sixties or something. Like one of
those wholesome, innocent, clean cut boys we saw
pictures of in my grandfather's high school year book
that time... as a boy Pop Pop went to the same High
School that we go to now, sixty some years ago.
I said, "You didn't go to high school with my Pop Pop
did ya?" Chubby, pulling on some jogging shorts said,
" What the fuck? You OK, Dylan? You're looking kinda
goofy, or something." I shook my head and said,
"Sorry... spacing out on ya, Dude". He went down to
the rec-room to watch more of the game and I took my
shower... jerking-off under the warm spray and this
time I didn't fantasize about my mystery boy fucking
me... instead, I thought about Chubby's hot little
body. We'd stopped sleeping together a couple weeks
ago and I missed it now. Why can't I appreciate stuff
when I'm living it instead of yearning for it after
it's over. I realize how great I have something when
it's too late... Duh!, that's me.
The fight was the reason Chubby wanted me to sleep
with him a couple weeks back... other than that,
sleeping together is a fairly rare occurrence. The
only time we get to sleep together normally is when
one of our Mom's has a boyfriend over for the evening,
which they try not to do too often. The boy belonging
to that Mom, stays with the boy belonging to the other
Mom, on those nights. I use to see it as a bit of a
pain in the ass, but now I can't wait for one of those
nights so I can feel Cubby's body against mine... you
know, now that I've finally come to appreciate his
body. The boy is HOT. Damn! I'm coming out of my
shell in a hurry. Oh well, it was early to bed
alone, tonight... and next morning back to the
routine.
As I mentioned, it was a hot month of May in New
England and after school today the temperature cracked
eighty. You need to stay hydrated when running in the
heat so I gorged myself with water or gatorade before
starting my four mile run. Also, on hot days I bring
a bottle of water with me to drink along the run.
Funny thing... when I drink extra liquids I sweat a
lot, but still need to pee a lot. What's up with
that? I'd have thought the extra sweat would take
care of the extra water, but it doesn't seem to.
Anyway, at the two mile mark there's a sign on a tree
pointing to a side trail that leads to a rest area
with a lavatory. Today I had to pee real bad and I
veered off onto that side trail to take a leak. I
didn't need the lavatory, just needed to get off the
trail in the unlikely event of another runner coming
by and seeing me peeing. There are female runners
too, ya know.... and perverts. And the truth is, I
like to pee in private.
The trail is a hundred yards long and then, around a
group of trees, the rest area. I slowed down and was
walking when I came around the tree group ... six
feet from me a man was pissing up against a tree.
Strong stream of pale yellow piss splattering off the
tree trunk. The man appeared to be in his twenties...
he was wearing running shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt,
and New Balance running sneakers. He looked to be in
fantastic shape, very muscular but not grossly so...
rather, in a lean way. A little over six feet tall,
I'd guess... short brown hair and, when he looked up
it startled me to see how very handsome a young man he
actually was. Bright blue eyes... eyes that sort of
glowed. His hairy arms and legs weren't too cool and
neither was the medium sized tatoo on his bicep that
read SEMPER FI, but all the rest of him was, so those
few faults could easily be excused... that's if, ya
know, if someone were keeping score or something.
It's odd how the mind can register all that detail so
quickly, but the thing I stared at the most was his
cock. It had to be eight inches long and fatter than
mine. He held his cock in his fist to direct the piss
stream... I use two fingers and my thumb, and the
second finger is probably made redundant by the first
one. I knew instinctively that I'd stared at his dick
a fraction of a second too long and I made myself look
away. The man said, "Come over here, use my tree".
That might sound like a friendly invitation ... but
the way this guy said it made it sound more like a
command. Frowning and in sort of a trance, I walked
over... not looking at him.
He was shaking the last few drops off his cock as he
said, "Now, my turn to stare at yours". The thought
entered my head that maybe I should run, but that
would be insulting to him if there wasn't any reason
to run, and what if he can run faster than me. No,
just cooperate and stay alert. I don't have a zipper
on my running shorts so I pulled the front of my
shorts, along with the cup of my jock down below my
balls. Not looking at the man, I took hold of my limp
dick and concentrated on peeing... sometimes trying
to get the pee stream started is a problem for me when
other guys are nearby and this guy was right next to
me. The longer it went without starting, the more
likely it wasn't going to. Damn!! With him staring
at me the pee would not come out even though I had to
piss badly. Mumbling, "I guess I don't have to go" I
began to pull my shorts back up.
The man said, "Oh no you don't" and he took hold of my
dick and stepped behind me, still holding it with his
thumb and index finger. I gasped and took a step
right back into him. Now, I couldn't catch my
breath.... short, quick breaths... like I was panting.
He appeared not to notice as he casually put a hairy
arm around my neck, under my chin, and used it to hold
me up tight to his chest. Breathlessly he said,
"Relax and you'll pee. Go ahead and relax. Relax,
goddamn it!" He seemed annoyed at me because I
couldn't pee.
His five o'clock shadow scraped my cheek as he
whispered in my ear, "OK, shhh. Just keep your body
up against mine and do what I fucking say, OK?
Relax!" Then calmer, "That's all ya gotta do. Stay
up against me now." With that he took his arm from
around my neck... I stayed like he'd said, up against
him. With his free hand he began rubbing my belly
down near my cock... all the time saying, "Close your
eyes and relax, close your eyes and relax, shhh, just
close your eyes and relax."
My eyes were fluttering, my heart was pounding too
hard and fast, and there wasn't any way I was going to
be able to relax. But he appeared so confident that
this would work it made me listened to his words.
After he said that relax phrase..."close your eyes and
relax"... a number of time I started thinking about
just his breathless voice and those words... like the
mantra thingie I get into sometimes. And all of a
sudden, a pee stream started, slowly at first... and
then got faster, and then the stream was fast and
fat. The piss was coming out hard too, like a horse
piss. The man was still holding my cock and I had
both my hands holding onto his hairy wrist. That's
just where my hands ended up.
He said, "See? Listen to me next time."
Unconsciously, I nodded my head, but whoa!! I really
needed that piss. After a nice long pee I shuddered
my shoulders and he flicked my dick a few times to get
the last drops to drop. Then he said, "Yeah, that
felt good didn't it?" I went, "Un huh" in a real low
voice. He scratched the side of my jaw with his
whiskers again putting his lips right on my ear and
whispering, "Come over here with me now. This will
feel good too."
Hesitating and shaking my head "no" twice, without
speaking, caused him to say, in a louder voice, "Yes,
you need to come over here with me." And, leading me
by my dick, he walked us to a nearby, low bench... me
taking short, quick steps to keep up. Sitting down
on the bench, he said, "For my safety, clasp your
hands behind your back. Go ahead, do it". His voice
was very authoritative, but not crude, threatening, or
especially loud. I held hands with myself behind my
back and he started sucking my cock. "OH!" I
exclaimed.. but, I didn't move... with good reason.
He had my nuts firmly in one hand, not hurting me...
a little tighter than was comfortable, but not
actually hurting. As he sucked my cock he'd
occasionally squeeze my nuts hard enough to make be
squeak out a sound and when I did, those amazing blue
eyes of his would look up and open wider. I wasn't
sure what that meant... I tried not to make any more
sounds though. After all, the man had my nuts
totally under his control and, also, I'd never been
sucked-off before. It was a very unique sensation in
a wildly unique situation. He got me hard by bobbing
his head back and forth so that his lips massaged my
cock from head to root. When it firmed up enough, he
licked it for a while... and then sucked on the head
of it until I couldn't keep myself from making quiet
"Oh Ah Oh" sounds.
The guy let go of my nuts and pulled down his shorts
and got out that long penis of his. Now it was my
eyes that opened wide as that long cock of his got
longer. He stroked it steadily without slacking off
his sucking and licking of mine. I was huffing quick
snorts of air.... never felt, or saw, anything like
this before. Oh my God, my cock was alive with
sensations, my nuts were buzzing. I looked down again
and did a double-take... he was wearing a wedding band
on his left hand. "He's married?" was just a quick
passing thought because my cock felt so good I had to
concentrate on that.
It was shiny and slimy with spit and truly as hard as
I've ever seen it, longer too... maybe past the six
inch mark. It was longer and seemed skinnier looking
because of that. Different than I can ever remember
it looking... felt fantastic. He pushed his face into
my stomach so that his nose poked through my pubes and
indented my belly... with that the head of my cock
went right into his throat. He did something with his
throat muscles and I was dancing on my toes, one foot
than the other, going, "AH AH AH AH AH" .
He had me just on the verge of cuming and boy did I
want to, but at the last second he pulled up off my
cock, took in a long, deep breath, then continued
with the long laps up the shaft of my boner in time
with the stroking of his own long one. Shortly, with
just his lips on my cock head and his tongue going a
mile a minute all over and around it... then his busy
tongue went down under the uncut foreskin around the
head, and that was it for me. I unclasped my hands
from behind my back, grabbed onto his muscular
shoulders, and humped into his mouth, spewing lots of
creamy teen cum while making high, weird, sounds from
my throat. Three seconds later he blasted off with his
own climax which spattered cum on my leg from my knee
to my crotch... the head of his long boner actually
poked into my knee at one point... then a second shot
of cum hit the front of my ankle. He made grunting,
smacking sounds as he fired off his climax...
continuing to suck my softening cock.
The guy sucked me dry, swallowing ever drop of my cum.
There wasn't even a drip on his lips. He pulled his
head away from my limp dick slowly, took in another
one of his long breaths, stood up slowly while pulling
his shorts and jock up with the same motion. Then in
a calm conversational voice he said, "That was
delicious. I run Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
only. Be here three PM, sharp, on Friday." After
saying that, he looked me in the eyes for five
seconds, squinted his glowing deep blue eyes, and
nodded his head like he'd confirmed something with
himself. I was a statue, not even blinking. Thinking
he was done, I started to pull up my jock, but he
held my hand to stop me, saying, "Make sure you take
care of those pubes before Friday. I don't like
sticking my nose in a boy's bush". I frowned,
wondering what he meant by "take care of my pubes"?
He noticed my confusion and with his index finger
drew a line low down on my belly, in my pubic area...
it was the outline of a little half circle above my
cock. "You can leave a little bit of bush just above
your dick if you want... that's an OK look, but make
sure they're no more than half an inch long. That's
all. Shave the rest smooth." I couldn't think of a
response. He said, "Stand up straight. I hate
slouching boys. Hands behind you." I did it on
reflex... or something. My cock and balls, still
hanging out in the open... and all over my body I
still felt the buzz from that thrilling climax.
Awesome feeling. I looked at this handsome young man
and thought, "He's early twenties for sure... no more
than twenty-two or twenty-three... maybe younger."
He looked right back at me and said, "Avert your
eyes!" I looked down and he squeezed the back of my
neck and ran the palm of his hand up the back of my
head , then over the top messing my short hair. "Just
stand there... straighten-up, god damnit!" Jeez, I
couldn't stand any straighter. He used both hands to
feel my shoulders and said, "You are one hellava good
looking kid! Look at those full lips and those sexy,
bedroom eyes. Fuck did you come from anyway, didya
drop out of the sky? Huh?"
It didn't seem like he was interested in my response
to anything, so I did a smart thing and kept my mouth
shut. He was feeling down both my biceps, mumbling,
"Bet you don't even "lift" and yet ya got yourself
some nice guns here." He felt down my body, from just
under my armpits and then a hand on each of my
buttocks and a squeeze of both buttocks at once.
"Jesus Christ, kid... that's the hottest ass I ever
felt on man or woman. Love the shaved legs too. You
on the swim team in High School, I guess?" I didn't
answer that either.
He put the palm of his hand on my forehead and pushed
up my short hair, I kept looking down. "This is
beyond belief... ya got a better ass and a prettier
face then my wife. And, she'd kill to have that shade
of blond hair you got there. God damn!" Out of the
corner of my eye I saw he had this wry grin on his
face that seemed to say, "Well, lookie here what I
found". Letting go of my body except for a hand
cupped behind my neck he seemed to be giving me one
last once over... he said, "OK kid, you're kinda
special alright and I'm going to treat you special
too.. and make you feel especially good." He took his
hand from behind my neck and adjusted his package. I
saw the jockstrap outline in his running shorts
pushing out the front.
He took another deep breath, then pulled my running
shorts and my jockstrap cup up for me and patted my
ass. Picked-up and handed me by water bottle, saying,
"Be here Friday, three PM sharp.. without your boy
bush, your pubes. Bring everything else you got
though... including that pouting look on your face."
He patted my cheek and I felt my face blushing."
Chuckling, he said, "You're too much, kid! OK, you
take off first. I'll give you a head start so we
don't have to run together. I don't like running with
anyone. Go ahead, take off." And this time he
swatted my ass very hard and off I flew... going fast,
my arms pumping, my legs flying, like I was running a
hundred yard dash.
In three minutes I'd exhausted myself... I was way
down the trail and finally had to slow down to jogging
speed. My breathing was raspy and hard, sweat
dripping off my face and wetting through my T shirt
as I jogged on without thinking about anything. My
objective was to stay ahead of him, didn't want that
guy thinking I was purposely waiting for him. He said
he didn't like running with anyone and that includes
me so I picked up the pace again and after a few
minutes had a painful stitch in my side. This won't
work so I baled out at the short cut.
Cutting through some weeds and up a little incline,
emerging on the back portion of the Super Stop & Shop
Market's parking lot. This is over a mile short of my
normal ending spot. Slowing down gradually to a
walking speed and then I stopping completely at the
back of the building. I took my sneaker and sweat
sock off to pore water on my leg and scrub with my
hand at the guy's dried cum. This was the most
unbelievable thing that's ever happened to me. First
Carl, and that was weird enough... but that guy at the
rest stop, what to make of him?
I rubbed my leg vigorously, getting most of his cum
off. Looking at my hand for a second, then looking
around to see no one was back there with me... I
smelled my hand then, but didn't detect any cum odor.
My mind was all fucked up.. Nothing to do but move
on. After putting my sock and sneaker back on, I
started to slowly jog around to the front of the
Market, heading for home.
to be continued....
Donny Mumford thinkat20@yahoo.com