Date: Mon, 5 Jan 2009 13:19:42 -0500
From: Sean E <ekidky@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Bully and the Bullied - Part 4
DISCLAIMER: I won't say anything more than just the usual - if you
shouldn't be reading this, then don't. This is a short story that involves
boys who are coming-of-age, containing things that boys get into, including
sexual situations, feelings, etc. It is my first attempt at fiction,
having written only one other series based on my personal life's
experiences growing up, titled "Life's Road of Discoveries" (also found
here on Nifty in the Young-Friends section, posted early in 2008). This
series has no basis in truth, whereas all characters and situations are
fictional. Any resemblance in real life is purely coincidental. The era
is based in the mid-1970's.
This story will spread across 9 or 10 parts of varying lengths, and I hope
that those of you who take to it and read it through will enjoy it. As
always, any feedback is welcome (to EKidKy@hotmail.com).
I hope you like it. :o)
The Bully and the Bullied Part Four - Learning...
-----------------------
When Jeremy was about to leave the bus that afternoon, he was surprised to
feel an arm reach out, holding him in place and preventing him from walking
down the steps off the bus. Turning, he saw Stan intently gazing at him
before smiling and handing the boy a bag of candy. "Merry Christmas Mister
Jeremy!" he said pleasantly. Totally surprised at the pleasant treatment,
especially from an adult within this school system he figured he had pretty
much pushed tolerance to the extreme, Jeremy stood there for an instant
looking confused.
With most of the few remaining kids chatting and ignoring the exchange
up front, Stan leaned over slightly and quietly added, "It's okay son, I
jest want you to know, not everyone thinks the same bout you. Have a good
holiday break, you hear?" At that Jeremy slowly nodded, accepting the
offered bag before stepping off the bus. He had noticed the man giving
them to other kids, but had not given a seconds thought to receiving one of
his own. As he moved out of the way the bus pulled out and continued its
usual trek down the road. Jeremy stood staring after it for a moment,
transfixed. Granted the man had never really been ill with him before, but
there was a difference in being friendly and being tolerant. To him Stan
was one of those funny people, set in a generation far in the past - or was
it? What did he say? 'Not everyone thinks the same bout you...' He
wondered what that meant, but eventually began shaking his head as he gave
up trying to understand it right then. He already had a heavy weight on
his shoulders, and he did not look forward to the short walk over the hill.
It was bitter cold outside, and the wind was chilling him quickly as he
started wearily heading toward the house.
Nearing the hill his breath quickened as he felt a tightness begin to
cling within his chest. His anxiety was not from the walk itself, however.
Physically, he was in great shape for his size and age, and no short hike,
weather abating to either extreme, would cause the change he was feeling.
Instead, the apprehensive feeling overcoming him as he topped the hill was
from what he might find below. Glancing into the yard, much unchanged
since the summer, he groaned and sighed at the old, beat up red Ford that
sat still in the driveway. He actually hesitated, debated with himself
what he wanted to do now that he was faced with certainty what lay before
him. In the end he decided he really didn't have much choice. Being 16
did not give him any special privilege with the powers of Mother Nature -
it was freezing cold outside, and although he had on a heavy coat, he
wasn't dressed sufficiently to weather the cold for long. As he slowly
walked down the hill, he never glanced or considered the barn that lay off
the back quarter of the yard. The old building was filled with many holes
in its walls and roof, and it provided only sparse shelter for the few
rusty tractor tools it housed. It also held memories too painful to him,
things best forgotten in every way he could. Instead he made his way to
the door off the side of the house, knowing that it would open up into the
kitchen.
There was a time when Jeremy had been only 6 or 7 years old when things
were very different than they were now. The place then had been well kept
by both his parents. The three of them had lived as a happy family most of
the time, other than for the few drinking binges his old man would set out
on occasion. Although they lived mostly off the farm, the old man
participated in seasonal work at the local tobacco warehouses and seed
mills, bringing much needed cash in for them in the spring and summer
months. The fall and winter was spent working crops of tobacco and selling
Christmas trees to help supplement what they could, and though it did not
leave them with a poor life, it still forced them to watch every cent as
close as they could. Jeremy's mother was a pleasant lady, brought up in
the ways of rural farming, and because of this she knew how to stretch the
almighty dollar in ways that would make some families envious.
Jeremy fondest memories of her was how kind and gentle she was towards
him. In those days, his father often smiled and at least treated him in a
pleasant manner, even though he was still just a kid getting his feet wet
in the world. She always had time to spare with him, listening to his
adventures and laughing at the new discoveries he had along the way. Some
days the chores were hard, and she was often always there to help him until
he gained the strength to finish them out by himself. It was on those days
they had their best talks, him learning of all sorts of facts and secrets
as he listened to her stories of faraway places and people. It had been a
good life, but it was one he sorely missed.
When one summer Jeremy turned 9, life came to an unexpected bend in the
road. His father came home one evening excited, holding extra cash he had
earned for some reason or another. Even his mother was unusually glad,
knowing they needed supplies that had been long put off. After a quick
shower and change of clothes, they had both hopped into the truck to head
to town. Jeremy was dropped off next door to visit with the neighbor's
grandson who was in town from somewhere, and they quickly headed on their
way, assuring him they would return within a few hours. What happened
afterwards though was a blur, taken from different accounts he heard
throughout the years from various people. Although he wasn't that young,
his own memories were hazy at best. Essentially, the old man had dropped
his Ma off at the grocery, promising to return shortly, but several hours
went by before arriving back. Jeremy's mother had been fit to be tied,
fuming and angry as she had suspected what had happened and was almost
powerless to do anything about it. His father was deeply inhibited, his
bloodshot eyes and breath giving him away instantly when she got in the cab
of the truck. They fought and argued hotly between them, their voices
carrying far across the parking lot making people stop and take note. He
began driving away, trying to avoid the stares and looks of disgust he was
receiving, yelling at one group as he pulled from the lot to 'mind their
own fucking business'.
That expletive only further enraged his wife as a short distance away
they had to park on the side of the street. The fight that broke out
became ugly, and although no violence ensued, she raked him over the coals
deeply. He had been to a local bar and totally lost track of the time when
he was supposed to have been going elsewhere. Even worse was the fact he
had spent nearly every dime of the last of the money he had just earned.
Evidently it had been a considerable sum, as some had told Jeremy she
constantly had berated him because that money had been badly needed. In
his drunken state he had been doing his best to hold his ground, but
failing miserably. It was only when a sheriff's deputy drove by and
stopped did they suddenly stop and become more subdued. At the deputy's
suggestion, they began moving again, heading back toward home.
The old truck didn't make it further than the outskirts of town
however. On that fateful evening it was growing dusk, and the twilight
reached the state where lights played tricks on an untrained eye, or even
one hung over from the effects of the alcohol he had consumed. Some say
the two had supposedly started arguing again, and in was in that such
moment of confusion that the elder Mr. Riddle turned the wrong way onto the
highway, directly into the path of an oncoming cement truck. He had
swerved, trying to get out of the way but he could only partially manage
the task. The responding deputy, who had only moments before broken the
fight between them, was called to the scene, and upon arriving he found one
critically injured and the other, Jeremy's mother... dead.
Jeremy had been stunned upon learning of the accident, to the point he
was numb. With his father laid up at the local hospital, the neighbors had
been kind to keep him overnight and the next few days while things got
sorted out. They were elderly, however, and their health was not in the
best of shape; it would be impossible for them to keep him indefinitely.
Ultimately, he attended his mothers' funeral with them in shocked pain,
stunned at how his world was suddenly being turned upside down. His father
lived, but it would be many long weeks before he would be released from the
hospital, and even then he would require extensive rehabilitation and
therapy, whatever that meant.
With nowhere else to go, social services stepped in and placed him in
the care of a local foster family, and it was here his true living
nightmare began. Neglected and ignored from the start, he was shoved
around and stripped of any food or attention by the other boys there, four
of them, varying in age. They had already taken command of their
environment, and the adults seemed to care less of their seeming power or
attitude. To them, the less they had to deal with the kids the better -
they just collected the money and went about their own merry business.
The other boys took pride in making life as meaningless as they could
for Jeremy from the start. Being summer, they lived outdoors for the most
part, coming inside the walls only to use the bathroom or some other call
of nature. Many even slept outside in old tents, musty and mildewed from
age. The foster adults kept little food in the kitchen, preferring to eat
out most of the time - which would have been acceptable except for the fact
they never took the kids along, nor brought them anything back. Because of
this, the boys were forced to fend for themselves.
Being the new kid and unaccustomed to such 'roughing it' conditions,
Jeremy had grown weak after the first few days. The others berated and
abused him both verbally and physically, knocking him around and pushing
him away from what little finds he was able to come up with. Finding
little food or comfort, he attempted to run away and travel back to the
farm where he knew he could do better. He actually had made it to the edge
of town and started down the highway before a deputy found him, having been
alerted to his disappearance. Jeremy knew their being notified could not
have been because of the foster adults, however; they rarely knew anything
about their charges as it was. Instead he was sure the other boys had
discovered his absence and turned him in. All of that was mute, however,
for that moment. In a weakened and confused state, he had no idea he was
heading in the wrong direction when the deputy found him, and he was taken
back to social services. He found himself under constant scrutiny and
questions about why he had tried to run away. At first he told nothing,
but eventually was cajoled into revealing what had happened to him.
Instead of sympathy, his story was met with an expression of puzzlement,
and soon after the foster couple was called in. The guardians began
spinning stories quite differently, he found out shortly thereafter. 'He
would not eat! He took food and threw it into the yard!' they insisted,
pouring one lie after another to the grilling they received. They brought
in one of the older boys as well who reaffirmed the stories, much to
Jeremy's shock. He was immediately labeled a liar and troublemaker -
another monument to add to his neglect and abuse.
In the end, the social workers accepted the fabrication, this being the
first of its kind ever hardened from a family that had been serving them
for years. Jeremy, after receiving a burger and soda from a local drive-in
was handed promptly back over. Jeremy grimaced, remembering what followed.
As they forced him into the car between them, the yelling and slapping had
begun as soon as they were out of sight. He was told in no uncertain terms
the price of what would happen, that he was going to have to pay for the
outrage and embarrassment he had bestowed upon them. Sure enough, upon
arriving back at the house the man took him to the cellar and whipped him
with his belt, leaving him below as afterwards he went back upstairs,
shutting and locking the door behind him.
Jeremy's cries went unheard for the rest of that day and night. With
only a single window well providing light during daylight hours, the day
lapsed into a long, dark night, cold and damp even for summertime
standards. The following day was no different, a repeat of the neglect and
abandonment he had the day before. He began getting scared as hunger set
in again, and finally at one point he began yelling and screaming, hoping
someone from the outside world would hear him and at least come see what
the matter was. It did not last long however, as within moments the door
at the top of the steps flew open and the man appeared yet again with his
belt. Jeremy tried to avoid him, tried to plead that he was starving and
needed something, but the man would not hear it. It had taken all of only
2 minutes for him to catch the young boy and whip him into silence sobs
again.
Jeremy shuddered as he now recalled those events for some reason,
slowly opening the door and stepping inside. It was cold, but his breath
did not fill the air with the mist that followed from outside. Closing the
door behind him, he noted the curtains that were closed hiding the rooms'
only window. The table was piled high with both dirty dishes and soiled
paper plates and goods, most ready to be trashed. Beer cans were scattered
on the surfaces here and there as well, most of them empty as they had been
flung after consumption. There was little room to be found anywhere and
surprisingly the room did not stink with the odor of rotting food. Jeremy
was to be thanked for that, as he at least tried to keep some semblance of
control over that regard. He did sniff the air, however, and detected a
slight putrid fragrance drifting to him from the house itself, and he knew
all too well what that source came from. He hesitated and listened,
finding no sound reaching his ears other than for that of music drifting
from somewhere else in the house. He moved quietly around the table,
carefully stepping as he walked to avoid making any more noise than he had
to, moving over to a doorway that opened into the living room. As he
peered inside his ears picked up the distinct sound of snoring within, and
sure enough the sight that met his eyes did not mislead him.
There he was, the old man. Surrounded by empty beer cans on both the
nearby coffee table and floor, Jeremy's father was stretched out on the old
worn out, dirty sofa that took up one whole wall of the room. His head was
hanging haphazardly over a cushion, and it was obvious to Jeremy the man
was either passed out or deeply sleeping. Although the man was snoring, he
knew from times past that did not necessarily mean he was asleep, or
perhaps he was asleep, but so far under the buzz he could not be awakened.
The old radio by his side was blaring old country-western tunes from a day
long since forgotten. Jeremy sighed with relief rather than annoyance, and
in fact sank down himself to the floor between the frames of the door,
watching the elder Riddle as he continued to snooze.
Jeremy's mind began to drift backward again, back to that night and the
beating he had endured. he recalled the dark musty floor he had laid on
for hours, finding no cloth or solace to endure the night with. It was a
dusty, mostly dirty prison for the most part, one where he even had to
suffuse himself with bodily functions in one corner, making a stench float
over the rest of the area at times that he hated. It had grown quiet
upstairs after a time, and from the darkness outside he knew hours had
passed when he heard the door open once again. Afraid of yet another
beating or something worse forthcoming, he quickly backed into a corner,
whimpering from fear as a flashlight suddenly appeared in the darkness. He
quieted however when he realized the hand holding it was none other than
one of the two older boys from above. Somehow he must have been able to
quietly slip into the hallway and opened the cellar door without anyone's
notice, he figured. As the light came closer, Jeremy's heart skipped a
beat as he saw the boy was carrying something in his other hand that turned
out to be a half-eaten sandwich. When it was offered to him, Jeremy took
it without a seconds thought and attacked it, feeling some of his strength
return from the nourishment. The other boy sat on the bottom step of the
stairwell, keeping the light focused toward the ceiling, away from their
eyes. They sat in awkward silence until Jeremy finished, for which he
looked up into the strangers eyes at that point. He had an uneasy feeling
looking into those eyes which darted about, surveying him seemingly in
greater detail, and it was all too well he could remember back, now, and
understand that it had been a feeling that something was about to
transpire. Unsure of what to say or do, Jeremy had simply stuttered a weak
"T-Thanks..."
The other boy nodded. "You ready to listen to me?" The voice was
soft, certainly above a whisper, but subdued in its own way, as if covert.
Jeremy nodded and waited, to which the other boy half-smiled before
continuing. "You are in deep kid. Nobody rats out these people and lives,
no-bod-y. As far as they are concerned, your ass is as good as theirs now,
you understand? They have the power and ways of keeping you here forever
if they want to, and right now, you being the first that has ever ratted
them out believe me, they want you here where they can make you suffer."
He paused dramatically before continuing. "The only way you have got out
of this is through me, and even then, I'm not sure I can get you out of
here or not."
Jeremy was scared as the words hit home, his eyes opening wide in
alarm, but he sat silently and waited. Even though he was 9 years old, he
wasn't dumb and he knew this kid was probably playing him for an
angle. Still, with the events of the last few days fresh on his mind, he
also knew there had to be a pretty good element of truth to it as well.
This kid sitting before him was big, had to be 13 or 14 years old. Maybe
he did know something more about the situation, maybe he had - what - had
his own first hand experience in some way. It didn't matter to Jeremy
though, he just knew he was scared, and so he waited to see what was going
to happen next. For the first time he noticed the kid was wearing no shirt
that night, and though the light was hazy at best, it appeared the kid was
in a simple pair of boxers and nothing else. At first this had no real
impact on him at that moment, but Jeremy remembered how later that would
change, in more ways than one.
"Tomorrow I am going to try and get you out of here," the older boy
interrupted his thoughts. "I think I can do it, but you'll have to do
exactly as I say when the time comes, and do it when I tell you to. You
think you can do that?"
Jeremy hesitated only a second before nodding and then seeing the other
boy smile. "What's your name?" he asked, changing the tone to a lighter
note.
"J-Jeremy..."
"Cool Jeremy, my name is Bobby. Come here, I want to see you." The
smile was inviting enough, the voice still pleasant as well. As Jeremy
slowly stood up, he closed the distance between the two, limping slightly.
Stopping about two feet away, he saw Bobby's the smile become wider as he
played the flashlight over his body. "Turn around," he indicated, rotating
the light, to which Jeremy complied.
As soon as his back was to the older boy, he felt a hand stop him and
raise his now grungy shirt up from behind. He began to shudder a little as
the boy obviously took an up close examination at the welts and bruises
that extended across his lower regions. He stood silently as he felt the
other boy pull out and down the back of his shorts, obviously searching for
how low, or perhaps how far, those streaks and welts extended across his
butt. Jeremy did not falter or stop him, though his modesty at being
exposed caused him to blush. He heard Bobby whistle behind him. "He got
you good, didn't he?"
It wasn't a question in the way he said it, but Jeremy whispered a
faint reply. "Yeah..."
What happened next however was not what he expected; thinking the older
boy would let go of his clothes and leave him be, instead he felt the other
raise his arms and take his shirt off, followed by hooking his thumbs into
his shorts and rapidly pulling them down to his ankles. He gasped and
started to turn around at the latter, but instead felt the other pull him
in close between his legs and trap him there. "You want out of this hell
hole, right?" Bobby whispered into his ear.
Jeremy nodded, shaking and quivering. "You want food to keep from
starving, right?" Again he nodded, and then Bobby started running his
hands up and down his naked sides while he continued to whisper. "Then all
you have to do is do what I say, when I tell you, and I promise I will look
after you until your old man can come and get you. That's not so hard, is
it?"
Jeremy thought about it for a moment. "W-what d-do I h-have to d-do?"
Bobby released him from between his legs and stood Jeremy back up on
his feet. He began caressing the back of the boy in front of him, his
fingers moving over the welts and bruises, before lowering them to the
buttocks that were fully exposed to him. "Now, we'll just have to see,
won't we... but I can promise you, we'll be the best of mates for a little
while." As the fingers lingered over what could only be Jeremy's hole, he
added "Oh yeah, the best of mates..."
Jeremy did survive the coming weeks, getting out of the cellar and
becoming the charge of the older boy as was promised, but not without a
price. Fear of the beatings that would await him, he submitted to the lust
of the older boy as he was repeatedly stripped naked each night. At first
the older boy only played with him, first just fingering his hole and
exploring his groin. The older boy did not always make it painful, often
showing Jeremy what a little exploitation, jacking off and sucking could
bring in the way of pleasure. Eventually however, Bobby could not resist,
and as the nights progressed in his tent, Bobby opened up his hole, forcing
his dick up inside more and more each night until it plunged as far as it
would go. Before long one of the other older boys joined in, and Jeremy
experienced the pain of something he never wanted, never accepted. He was
forced to suck them off, forced to swallow their seed, forced to do things
that left him crying late at night while the others slept. He prayed to
the God that he knew nothing about, wondering how long it would be before
his father could come and take him away from it all, from the wrongness of
it. The older boys always used him, bottomed him as they topped satisfying
their urges, fulfilling their needs. He learned all too well about the
things he should not have had to - not as yet, at least not so soon.
Jeremy shuddered, suddenly brought back to alertness as his old man
rolled over on the couch and allowed a huge belch to escape his lips. The
man never awoke even once however, and Jeremy sighed as he got slowly to
his feet, visibly shivering. He had lived in that house, with those kids
and the neglect for the rest of the summer and part of the fall before he
finally got out. Instead of coming home to a peace and quiet environment,
however, nothing was as it had been before. He remembered the first night
he had walked back inside the very hallway here, and how his father had
looked at him with those blank eyes before retiring to his own bedroom.
The man had not offered him even a simple hug, had not even taken an
interest in what life had been for him. He looked on his only son as
something that wasn't his, it seemed. Again Jeremy shuddered, trying to
block out the memories that followed. Succeeding, he quietly left and
walked down the hallway until he entered his bedroom.
Realizing that if the old man were truly buzzed, Jeremy figured he
would probably be out of it for hours. He further realized with dawning
comprehension, that if the man awoke with as huge of a hangover as he
normally did after a mass consumption like what Jeremy feared, he did NOT
want to be there when he awoke - for any price. Too many times he had bore
the brunt of the man and his harshness when he got that way - in more ways
than one. Looking about he quickly grabbed an old, worn out gym bag he
kept stored underneath his bed and shoved a thin blanket inside from his
bed, along with a pillow. Checking various clothes scattered on and around
the bed, he found a couple of sweatshirts that were not overly dirty as
yet. He then removed his jacket before pulling one of them over his head,
followed by stuffing the other into the bag and zipping it up. Donning his
coat again, he left the room quietly and headed back toward the kitchen.
As he looked about, he frowned at the fact there was little to eat in
the house. One look inside the refrigerator confirmed the dread within
him: the old man apparently used the last of his warehouse pay for the year
to stock up on beer. Jeremy scowled as he shut the door in disgust, which
jolted with a clap. He paused, but the continuing snore coming from the
other room told him he all was as before. He found a half-filled box of
cereal on top of the refrigerator and added to the bag with a can of soda
found rolling on the floor in the back of the pantry. It was meager fare
for one to make the night on, but he had survived on a lot worse.
With a grimace he quietly left the house, shutting the door with care.
As he started across the yard, his face was expressionless. He knew how to
survive and what that price would be for the moment, knowing he had to find
shelter. Not two miles from the place was an old abandoned farmhouse he
had used before, and he figured that was the best place for him to sit out
the night...
- + - + - + -
Michael awoke just as he thought the dawn outside was creeping up,
the light casting gray, mystic reflections about the room. As he slowly
got his bearings, he noted with a smile the figure that was lying next to
him. Although he had long ago let go of cupping his crotch, Thomas still
had an arm across Michael's upper belly and they were snuggled close to one
another sharing their warmth. There was a peaceful expression on his
friends' face, and Michael could not help but be happy and content. As
events of the previous night slowly replayed in his mind, he had never had
such a blissful feeling come over him in his life that he could recall, a
feeling indescribable to some but all too well known to others. The room
was cool but not cold, thanks to his mother having kept the fire below
stoked throughout the night.
Although he would have been happy to just lay there and listen to
the sounds of the morning, which included that of his friends' regular,
methodic breathing, Michael's bladder was demanding attention. Reluctantly
he withdrew himself from the bed, using as much care as possible to not
awaken Thomas, and then quietly headed to the bathroom to get some relief.
When he returned, he was startled to see the clock actually displayed
almost 9:30, which then caused him to get his glasses and peer out the
window. Snow clouds were low overhead casting a gloomy look about the yard
and fields beyond, but in their presence Michael also saw a light snow
begin to fall. Although the ground was not covered, patches here and there
were beginning to turn white. Although the snow had been due to start
earlier, he was pleased as he smiled, thinking they would at least have
some falling before the weather system passed by.
He slowly climbed back into bed, attempting to use care yet again,
but this time Thomas stirred from under the covers, raising his head a few
inches as Michael slid back up close. Pulling his friend back in tightly,
Thomas lay there for a moment before he, too, decided he needed relief as
well. Grudgingly sitting up, he asked, "Are we alone? Or do I need to put
on my sweats?"
Michael giggled. "We're alone bro, unless you don't want me seeing
your whitey tighties..."
Thomas grunted before taking up his pillow and throwing it at
Michael. He then scurried out of the bed, wrinkling his nose as his feet
touched the floor. "Sheesh! It's cold in here!" he exclaimed as he
disappeared through the doorway.
Michael grinned, snuggling underneath the covers until Thomas
returned. When he did, Thomas took his time climbing over and getting back
into the bed. As he settled in however, Michael grabbed him from behind
and pulled Thomas up close inside, spooning him from the rear.
"MMMmmmm.... this IS pretty cool!" he whispered, burying his face into the
warmth and comfort of Thomas's back.
Thomas melted into the arms surrounding him. "Yeah, I know." He
paused, looking out the window toward the sky. "Is it snowing?"
Michael nodded behind him. "Yeah, not a lot yet, but the ground is
beginning to get white." He pulled himself up harder into his friend,
enjoying the feeling as he embraced him, and as he did Thomas pushed back
giggling, making Michael ask, "What's up?"
Thomas turned his head to where he could look into the other's
eyes. "I dunno, just was thinking, wondering stuff..."
"Like...?"
"Like, whether this is what they call 'humping', you know?"
Michael laughed. "No dufus! I don't think this is that!" He smiled
as the other grinned at him, then lowered his voice. "I don't know what it
is, I just like it."
Thomas nodded. "Yeah, I do to, I can feel you on my butt
though..." He heard Michael giggle as he turned his head back to the
pillow and pushed himself as close as he could get. "I'm not complaining
though..." he added.
"You better not be," Michael whispered. He thought about it for a
second, then pulled one of his arms back and took hold of his own briefs
and pushed them down and off his feet. As Thomas felt and determined what
was happening, his friend hooked a thumb into his own underwear so he
raised his hips from the bed to assist. Michael quickly removed them for
Thomas, and they cuddled back up together, Thomas feeling a rapidly
hardening and throbbing cock sandwiched up within the folds of his
buttocks. He wiggled a little playfully, his own cock hardening in the
process.
Michael said nothing as the new sensation began enthralling every
bit of his senses, his breathing gradually quickening. Almost
unconsciously he began moving up and down ever so slightly, effectively
going through the motions of rubbing his member between them. Thomas began
matching him with each thrust, bearing pressure back into his friend and
finding his own pleasure in the process. At one point he leaned back
whispering, "Umm... this might make it though, you think? Humping?"
Michael grinned. "Yeah, I would say this is probably pretty
close." He paused before continuing, "Of course, if we did it like dogs do
it, then THAT would be real humping, you know?"
Thomas grinned. "Yeah, but there isn't any way anyone can do
that... is there?" The question born in his voice was of innocence and
curiosity.
Michael just shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea, but it
doesn't matter, I'm... getting... pretty worked up... just like... this,
you know?" His attention was clearly in more than one place, but within
seconds he quickly added, "Unless you want... me to stop..."
"NO!" came the abrupt outcry from Thomas, to which he sheepishly
added in a softer tone, "Umm, I mean... no...."
Michael giggled, then brought his hand back around and took hold of
his friends' now raging 5-inch boner and started massaging it in time with
his own activity. It was hot to the touch, hard but yet silky-like, almost
soft. He could feel the skin slipping as he continued, and the fact that
his friend was so different in that aspect fascinated him. Moreover
though, just the fact he was holding another cock besides his own seemed to
add to the fervent wickedness of the moment, too, and he gently squeezed as
he continued moving up and down between them both. After a moment, he
leaned in and whispered, "Do you think we're about the same size?"
Thomas grunted, having been brought out of his own reverie when he
was not quite ready for it, then rolled over to face his friend. Michael
was somewhat disappointed, mostly at himself because he had not intended
for everything to stop right then as he let go, forced to give up the
foreplay between them. Thomas pulled back the covers a little so they
could have a clear view at each other, and then brought his cock up
side-by-side to this friend. Slowly he placed them together until just his
tip was touching into Michael's pubes and the skin lying underneath. When
he succeeded, although Michael's cock touched Thomas's pubes, there still
lacked a fraction between them before it was long enough to return the same
distance. Thomas grunted again though and grinned. "Umm, I think bout the
same." Seeing his friends look of confusion, he let go of Michael for a
second and pulled his own skin back before taking hold of both again and
reapplying the test. This time, without the extra skin making up the
distance as it had before, they both touched each other identically.
"See?"
Michael grinned, then once again reached in and touched his
friend's skin, gently pulling it back and forth again. "How does that feel
like that? I mean, having it hang over the end all the time"? he asked
while continuing the motion.
Thomas thought about it for a second. "Umm... I dunno. I can't
really imagine it being any diff than yours would be, unless maybe I'm a
little more sensitive than you are, or something like that."
Michael nodded, replying "I think it's cool." The expression on
his face betrayed the fascination he had with it, much to Thomas's
amusement as an idea began to strike him. He slowly withdrew and pulled
himself back and away in an attempt to let their ends touch head-to-head,
one which Michael became still when he realized what was happening, letting
Thomas have his way for the moment. Having his own skin still drawn back
tautly, Thomas slowly released it up and over, pushing it forward so that
it not only slid over his own cock but also over the tip of Michael's as
well. He heard his friend draw in a sharp breath and hold it as both of
them were now enveloped, linked together in a new way. "So, how does it
feel?" Thomas asked, knowing his own answer before he even spoke.
Michael slowly let his breath out and started whispering again.
"It's... It's warm, and... kinda slick feeling I guess, I dunno, but
mmmaaaaannnnn, it's awesome!" The excitement in his voice was evident even
in the whispered tone, making Thomas grin more before he grasped both of
them in his palm and started to slowly massage them both back and forth.
He wrapped his fingers, cupping them both and began to set up a pumping
between them that was electrified throughout their bodies.
Michael started slowly thrusting, meeting each stroke from the
other's hand, then hesitated. "I'm gonna cum inside you if we keep this
up..."
"So?" Thomas replied, grinning still. "You think I'm not?" He
giggled. "Besides, I already have you inside in my belly, this is nothing
compared to that!"
Michael grinned back, whispering "I know - me too!" He reached
across and put his hand on his friends' hip and started rubbing up and down
along the side as he tried ever so slightly to help. He was soon lost,
however, as the sensation of feeling their ends meeting in unison and the
skin cover and withdraw as he was being stroked created a throbbing
sensation. His own skin was being pumped as well, and Thomas skillfully
kept hold of them both while gradually lengthening the strokes as he
simultaneously began speeding up.
Lost in his own experience, Thomas was soon whispering, "You
close?" All Michael could do at that point was grunt and nod, and when
Thomas paused, breathing heavy and squeezing the two of them, it became
obvious his hand was getting tired. Michael gently pushed it away and
applied his own, taking over between them, letting Thomas feel his hand
instead yet again.
It seemed only seconds before Thomas grunted, following through in
the excitement finally taking its toil. He thrust himself hard against the
other, making Michael have to squeeze both of them tightly so as not to
lose his grip. Thomas started spurting white, hot gobs of liquid inside the
connection, and as soon as Michael sensed it and afterwards felt it begin
leaking into the palm of his hand, he too went over the top and cummed.
Both boys found a sweet ecstasy in the moment, Thomas grabbing his friend's
hip with his now free hand and forcing them close together. Within seconds
he actually scooted up close so that they were both grinding each other,
their oozing cocks sandwiched between them, throbbing and pulsing to the
enveloped heat of their bodies.
When they stilled themselves they eventually wrapped up in each
others' arms. Thomas opened his eyes to see the other staring back at him,
making him smile, happy in the moment. Michael returned the smile, and
they watched each other for a few seconds, the feelings in their groins
having reached a satisfaction they both enjoyed. Thomas leaned in to the
other, slowly at first, unsure if his friend would even want to do it
again, but when Michael saw the gesture he leaned in as well, meeting the
others lips first softly, then more passionately as they opened their
mouths and explored the mutual feelings with each other again as they had
the night before.
The kiss lasted several minutes before they both broke and gasped
for air simultaneously. Each was still grinding into the other, their arms
and legs interwoven tightly. It was Michaels turn to grin when he
recovered. "Are you still afraid I won't want to do stuff?"
Thomas scoffed. "I didn't mean it like that last night..."
Michael giggled. "I know, I know... but heck, I don't know about
you, but this is awesome to me, you know?"
Thomas nodded. "More than I ever knew or dreamed it could be."
Michael nodded. "Just between us, though, right? I mean, I know
you won't tell anyone at school or nothing, but..."
Thomas nodded. "Yeah, this is between you and me. I'll do stuff -
anything with you - anytime you want, as long as it's between just us." He
smiled and added, "Because I trust you."
Michael whispered back, "I trust you, too." They suddenly giggled
at each other, but each had a respect for the other that extended beyond
just mere words and they knew it. Michael leaned in to his friend's ear
and whispered, "Merry Christmas, bro! You can be my brother anytime you
want!"
Thomas turned his head slightly so that he could whisper back, "You
too... Mike? Thanks for giving me the best Christmas ever!" They hugged
briefly when Thomas noticed they were both beginning to sport
semi-erections yet again. He drew his head back and raised his eyebrows.
"Want to do more?"
The grin returned to him told him all he wanted to know. They
spent the next hour goofing around, wrestling each other in the bed naked,
tickling and playing, the foreplay eventually leading to a repeat much of
the night before where they rediscovered each other again, except this time
they had the full light of day to reveal the details that were hidden in
the shadows of the night before.
Eventually they succeeded in satisfying the other again before
finally pulling on some clothes and heading downstairs. Michael tended to
the fire in the wood stove while Thomas stood at the front door, looking
out over the front yard, now covered in a white blanket as the snow
continued to fall. When they both moved to the kitchen, they found bacon
and scrambled eggs waiting for them in the over, as Michael's Mom had
hinted the night before. After fixing toast and juice, they devoured the
meal in mere moments.
For the rest of the day they played various board games and watched
TV, hanging out and enjoying their time. Later in the afternoon, Michael
loaned his friend some additional clothes and they bundled up, heading
outside. The snow was still falling with no immediate signs of clearing
away as they began building first a snowman, then continued to make more,
creating a snow-family, of sorts. They had just completed trying to build
a dog - funny looking by its own nature, but still its resemblance was not
lost on the attempt - when Michaels' mother topped the hill, followed by
another vehicle which Thomas immediately recognized as his mother's.
Though saddened their time was coming to an end, Thomas collected his
things inside and the two parted, each with a smile on their face knowing
that it had been the best time either of them had had in years. Giving each
other a high-five, Thomas broke the silence as he walked out onto the
porch. "Thanks for everything Mike, Merry Christmas, too. You too!" he
added, giving Michael's mother a quick half-hug.
"Why, you're very welcome young man!" she responded, giving
Thomas's mother a knowing smile in the background. At first, she was
confused when the other did not respond, but rather stared blankly at her
son. The move was subtle, but enough that she noted a strangeness come
across Ms. Wilsons's face she had not seen before. Before she could regard
it any further however, Thomas had disengaged and was moving to get into
the jeep. His mother simply nodded and smiled, said her thanks again for
putting up with her son, then climbed in and backed around, heading toward
the road.
When the vehicle was over the hillside and out of sight, Michaels'
mother turned, intending to ask her son if he had noticed the exchange, but
was met with a complete surprise by him hugging her fiercely. "Well, what
do I owe this pleasure too?" she asked warmly, leading them both into the
house out of the cold.
Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, just happy I
guess... maybe cuz it's Christmas."
She laughed. "Umm, so I guess that means I shouldn't get to used
to this then, right?"
Michael laughed as he started bounding up the stairs, leaving her
shaking her head as she headed toward the kitchen. 'Boys....' she thought,
smiling at herself.
(To be continued...)
---------------------------------
Comments to: EKidKy@hotmail.com
Other series by me:
- Lifes Road of Discoveries
(www.Nifty.org, Gay-Young Friends section, Early 2008)
- Terry and Sam - Short Story, Holiday Christmas Collaboration w/Ruwen
(www.Nifty.org, Gay-No Sex section, Late 2008)