Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 03:41:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Adam, Home Alone

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity involving a male teen and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.


If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________

ADAM, HOME ALONE
(copyright 2009, Joe Hunter)


Adam put his bike away and after brushing a spill of blond hair off his
forehead pulled out the back door key he wore on a string around his neck.

Ever since his mother had started working when he was little he had been
coming home to an empty house after school.  Now at least it was only three
times a week because he had soccer practice the other two days.  He would
have much preferred playing everyday - and he would at soccer camp once
summer vacation started.  But until then he was stuck with the stupid
rec. league - practice twice a week, games on Saturday - and lucky to have
that.  His mother's dislike of competitive sports was so great she had
refused to let him play football.  Getting her permission for soccer had
been a major victory.

Letting himself into the kitchen Adam paused, listening for suspicious
noises.  With the back door left open as an escape route he made a quick
tour of the first floor: dining area, living room, front hall - no robbers
or bad guys lurking anywhere waiting to get him.  Once he was satisfied, he
closed the back door and then returned to the front hall where he stood at
the bottom of the stairs looking up.  Now there were just the bedrooms.

On TV Adam had seen a program about a father who had shot his kids one by
one as they came home from school.  It had scared him.  It was such a weird
thing to think about.  There you were, talking to your dad just like
always, maybe telling him about your soccer game.  Then - Blam!  You were
on the floor, eyes open and staring, except you weren't seeing anything
because you were dead.  Would you feel it?  Would you even have time to be
surprised?

Except for snapshots, Adam had no memory of his father.  But, what if he
went into his bedroom and his father was there, waiting for him?  Should he
run away?  If his father was trying to be nice, running away might make him
mad.  But what if he didn't run away and his father shot him in the head?

Adam knew it was stupid, but he went up the stairs cautiously anyway, doing
a quick check of his mother's room and the bathroom before stopping at the
entrance to his own bedroom.  Heart pounding, he listened for nearly a
minute and then peeked around the side of the door.

There was no one there - at least no one he could see.  But maybe there was
someone hiding in the closet.  He tiptoed in, holding his school backpack
ready to throw just in case.  He pulled open the closet door.  Nothing -
only his clothes hanging from the rack.  Adam poked behind them and then,
with a relieved sigh, closed the door.  His room was safe - for now anyway.
He went over to his homework desk and dropped the backpack on the floor
beside it.

The desk held a single drawer.  Adam drew it out pushing aside old homework
papers, extra pencils, half-used erasers and a plastic ruler with one end
broken.  From the back he took a rolled up leather belt and after sliding
the drawer closed he held the belt to his nose inhaling its scent.
Instantly he was back at camp the summer before, sitting next to Brant his
counselor who was showing him how to cut the leather.

"See?"  Brant had said, leaning so close their bodies touched.  "That's how
you do it."  His arm had gone around Adam's shoulders...  And then...

Adam was sure nothing had ever felt that good before in his whole life.
Brant was the coolest, most awesome person in the world and in less than a
month Adam would be seeing him again.  He could hardly wait for vacation to
start.  This time soccer camp was going to be totally awesome because he
was bunking in Brant's cabin.  Brant had promised him, and just knowing
that soon he could be with his hero all the time made Adam feel like the
luckiest kid in the world.

The previous fall, when his mother had refused to let him play football,
Adam had been terrified she might forbid soccer camp as well.  He didn't
know what he would have done if she had - maybe killed himself or
something.  Watching his friends play football from the sidelines had hurt
enough to make him cry a few times; but the loss of soccer and a chance to
see Brant would have been so awful he couldn't even think about it.

Weeks of begging had finally persuaded his mother to let him be on the
soccer team and attend camp, but he was constantly afraid she might change
her mind.

Adam stared for a while out the window over his desk and then went to stand
next to his bed.  He knew boys whose fathers had guns.  Stealing one
wouldn't be that hard.

Holding an imaginary gun in his hand, Adam pressed the muzzle to the side
of his head.  "One, two, three..." he whispered.  Then he pulled the
trigger.

Jerking his head to the side he crumpled, falling onto the bed to lay
sprawled, eyes staring at the ceiling, mouth open, pretending to be dead.
It would be easy, he thought.  You wouldn't feel anything.

The silence around him went on and on.  Adam held his breath until the
sound of a car passing on the street made him turn his head.  Then he
stretched and pulled up his loose shirt, studying his slender body in the
light slanting across it from the window.

He wished he were bigger.  Tightening himself, he made his little swells of
muscle harden and then did a partial set up so he could run a fingertip
along the grooves that appeared in his flat stomach.  He had a good build
for his size, he knew, and he could beat anyone at school in sit-ups and
chin-ups.  But he was still just average height.  Lots of boys were taller.
He wished he would grow more.

Adam stretched out again, spreading his legs apart as far as he could, and
slid a palm over the smooth skin of his chest.  With his fingertips he
brushed the tiny hard points of his nipples.  Each touch sent a tingling
sensation into his groin where something else was hardening, too.
Squeezing his butt to stiffen himself even more, he pushed a hand down into
his shorts and lifted his tight underwear briefs.  Freed of constriction
his penis straightened into a quivering rigidity and he touched the hard
shaft to stroke it.  There were at least three hours before his mother came
home.  Plenty of time to play the game...

Getting up, Adam kicked off his Nikes, which he wore without socks, and
then unsnapped and unzipped his shorts.  Over the years, he had found ways
of entertaining himself when he was alone after school and the game he
began now was one that had evolved gradually.  Gripping his unfastened
shorts to keep them from falling off, bare feet silent on the carpet, he
tiptoed to the door of his room and peeked out into the hall.  Beyond the
stairs lay his mother's room.  If he could reach the phone by her bed he
could call for help.  But the bad guys were waiting in ambush...  He crept
forward...

Be quiet, he told himself.  Don't make a sound.  Get past the stairs...

Too late!  A flash of gunshots...!

"Uhhhhhh..." Clutching his chest, Adam dropped to his knees and pitched
forward into a headfirst slide down the stairs that stripped him of his
shorts.  At the bottom he rolled lifelessly, ending up in a sprawl, pants
twisted on his ankles and shirt bunched around his chest.  He held his
breath, staring straight up so he would look dead while the cool touch of
air on his almost naked body stiffened the boner that was tenting his
briefs.  He pictured himself with a bullet hole in his chest and blood
trickling from his open mouth - extra details he had once tried adding with
ketchup, but there had been such a mess he had never tried it again.  Then
he imagined someone, maybe someone like Brant, finding him, stripping him
and then carrying his limp body into the living room.  Because he was dead
he wouldn't know anything about it.  His naked body would just lie there
wherever it was dumped, eyes staring, not moving...

Adam stirred and rubbed a palm on his smooth stomach, sliding his hand down
until it was in his briefs.  Taking hold of his rigid shaft he stroked it
for a while, enjoying the strange mysterious feeling it gave him.  Finally
he sat up to push the shorts off his ankles, pulling his legs free one by
one.

Leaving his pants at the bottom of the steps, Adam went over to stare at
himself in the hallway mirror.  From the opposite side of the glass his
other self stared back - a blond boy wearing a loose fitting red and gold
BMX shirt that came to mid thigh on his bare legs.  Very slowly, using one
hand, Adam lifted that shirt, uncovering tight briefs bulged out by his
hard penis and then a lean smooth stomach.  Stroking himself with his free
hand he pushed beneath the elastic waist of the briefs and rubbed his
boner, watching in the mirror as he did so to make it feel like he was
doing it to his twin as well as himself.  The movements of his hand worked
the briefs down and he struck a pose, standing with hips cocked, a hand in
his groin.

After studying his reflection, Adam pulled the loose shirt up further,
tugging it over his head but keeping his arms in the short sleeves.  Then
he put his hands behind his head and posed again, gazing for a while at the
smooth skin and graceful lines of his slender body.  Finally he removed the
shirt completely, dropping it on the floor.  After that he slowly stripped
off his underpants, pushing them down in back first and then turning to
admire the smooth rounded curve of his butt in the mirror.

Most of the kids at school, like the ones he played soccer with, had flat
skinny butts - butts you could barely see under their shorts.  Adam knew
his wasn't like that.  His butt stuck out behind in a way that made his
shorts fit tight.  Pushing his briefs down the rest of the way, Adam
stepped out of them and turned his back to the mirror, tightening his butt
to make it stick out even more and then looked over his shoulder at his
naked reflection.  Brant had told him that having a good butt meant you
were a good athlete and Adam was sure it was true because he could outrun
and out-bike anyone.  When Brant had patted him on the butt after a good
play it had felt nice and Adam wished the counselor had done it more often.

Turning to face the mirror again, Adam posed with one hand behind his head
and his bicep flexed, copying something he had seen in a weight lifting
magazine.  Light from the oval windows above the front door slanted across
his body as he tightened the little swells of muscle in his chest staring
at his mirror twin.

He wanted to be bigger.  Stroking a palm down the glassy smoothness of his
stomach all the way to his groin he took hold of his rigid penis and rubbed
a fingertip back and forth over the tiny slit at its tip.  Even though he
had a good butt, Adam still thought his boner was too small.  Lots of other
kids in his class had bigger ones.  But they had hair too and he didn't
want that.  Adam just wanted to be bigger without the hair, but maybe you
had to have both.  Brant's boner was really big and he didn't have hair
because he kept it shaved off.  Adam had liked that.  He thrust his hips
forward trying to make his boner jut out farther, rubbing while he studied
himself in the mirror.  He wished he stuck out more, like Brant did.

From the glass, Adam's other self gazed back at him slyly and then
disappeared when Adam stepped away to the side.  This was part of a plan
because his imaginary twin had a role to play in the game and in his mind
Adam sent him upstairs to wait while he went on into the living room.

Long before, when he had been small, Adam had discovered what he could do
with the sofa in the living room, and even though it was awkward now
because he was taller he still liked straddling one of the thick arm rests
so he could slide back and forth on it naked.  The sensation was more
exciting than just stroking himself with his hand and when he climbed into
place he felt a thrill of anticipation as the plush fabric touched his nut
sack and inner thighs.

Leaning forward Adam slid his hips in a steady rhythm, letting his boner
rub on the arm rest in a way he knew would bring aching pleasure into his
groin.  As sensation built within him he thrust faster and, steadying
himself, he pumped his butt, trying to prolong the feeling because it was
so good.  But the awkward position tired him quickly and at last he
collapsed, panting, and then slid off onto the sofa, sprawling with his
arms over his head.  After catching his breath he reached down to touch
himself, brushing fingertips on the glassy smooth, stretched skin of his
rigid shaft.  The feathery light touch sent delicious shivers racing
through his loins and he kept doing it until a final shudder made his hips
jerk.  Then he got up and crept back to the hallway.

Careful to avoid a reflection in the mirror, because his other self was
supposed to be up hiding in the bedroom, Adam collected pants, shirt and
briefs before pausing at the foot of the stairs.  He waited for a moment
listening to the silence in the house, hearing nothing while he held his
breath.  Then he padded up the stairs, noiseless on bare feet.  At the
entrance to his room he stoped again to crouch down and roll his clothing
into a ball.  Only when he was ready did he peek around the edge of the
doorway.

Where was his twin?  The room appeared empty but Adam knew his other self
was there, hiding out of sight, waiting for him to enter.

What was that?  Adam held his breath, but all he heard was the beat of his
own heart.  It was time to move.  For a diversion he tossed his balled up
clothing into the middle of the room and then leapt through the door
pretending to be holding a drawn bow.

Movement!  In the corner by the desk!

Adam turned, shooting his arrow, but even as it left the bow he knew he had
missed and it was too late!

"Uhhhhhh..."

A thudding impact on his chest made him stagger and he dropped his bow
clutching at the feathered shaft protruding from him.  Another blow took
his breath and when he looked down a second arrow was sticking out of his
belly.  Reeling, he fell back onto his bed jerking his legs and then
writhing in a pretend death agony.  The struggle left his naked body
sprawled half off the mattress, arms and head thrown back with his legs
parted.

Adam held his breath, staring with his eyes open so he would look dead,
picturing himself with the arrows sticking out of his lifeless body and his
twin standing over him.  The image made him so hard he could feel his own
heartbeats throbbing in his rigid boner.  He reached down to touch himself,
stroking with his fingers, imagining that it was his other self who was
doing it, rubbing in slow circles on his thighs and belly and then closing
a fist on his jutting little shaft and sliding it up and down.  The feeling
was so good Adam could not keep from moaning softly and he squirmed,
tightening his butt to make himself even harder, wanting it to go on...
But the shadowy boy leaning over him dissolved and he was left stroking
himself which was good, but not as good, so after arching to squeeze his
butt one more time he stopped and sat up.

Across the room the closet door was ajar.  Adam got up and tiptoed over to
it, holding an imaginary sword at the ready.  But no one was there when he
pulled the door open.  His twin was gone, hiding downstairs now, waiting in
the next part of the game.  Adam crouched to pick up one of his sneakers
and shook out the fake gold neck chain he kept hidden there.  The chain was
a secret possession, concealed from his mother because he had shoplifted it
at the mall.  Adam had never stolen anything before in his life, but the
moment he had seen the chain he had known he had to have it...

Safety pins dangled from each end of the chain and Adam removed them for
use in fashioning a simple costume.  Striping the pillowcases from the two
pillows on his bed he safety pinned them together and slipped them over his
head so they hung from his shoulders, one in front and the other behind.
It was an idea he had gotten from a movie and using the gold chain for a
belt completed the costume, gathering the pillowcases at his narrow waist.

With the aid of the bathroom mirror he adjusted the crude garment so the
smooth skin of his flanks and hips showed at the sides.  Then he stood back
to admire himself.  The pillowcases were long enough to reach mid-thigh but
the jut of his hard boner in front and the way his butt stuck out in back
lifted them, revealing all of his bare legs.  Adam half turned and then
flexed, striking a pose like he had seen a boy do in a movie.  It was a
stance that tightened the rounded muscle of his butt and he stared at his
half naked image feeling the strange excitement he always got when he did
that.

In the medicine chest, on a shelf amid the jars of his mother's face cream,
was a plastic bottle of hand lotion.  Adam took it down and went to his
room with it, placing it on the floor by the bed along with the rolled up
leather belt.  With that done he tiptoed back to the hallway and paused at
the top of the stairs, listening.

Somewhere below his other self lurked, guarding the way that led to the
weapons cache in the garage.  Adam would have to fight him to reach it.
With his imaginary sword held ready in front of him, Adam crept down the
stairs, careful not to make a sound...

In the front hall he stopped to listen again.  Still nothing but silence.
After ducking down to make a check of the living room Adam turned
cautiously into the passage that led toward the kitchen...

Suddenly his twin was there!  Right in front of him!  Dressed just as he
was and holding a sword!

The first attack came so fast Adam barely parried it and the sting of a
weapon tip burned in his left arm.  Flinching, he watched for an opening
and then ducked to make a sweeping cut with the edge of his blade, slashing
his twin's thigh.  The lightning quick counter thrust nearly got him, but
he pulled back just in time to block the stroke.  Warm blood dripped off
his left elbow, but a flood of it was sheeting down his twin's leg from the
deep slice across the thigh.  Adam pressed in on attack and his other self
desperately tried to keep a guard up for a few more seconds.  Then he
staggered and Adam drove a thrust under his weapon, stabbing into the boy's
smooth stomach, pushing the blade all the way through his twin's body
before jerking it back out.

Since he had to play both parts, Adam now opened his mouth in shock.
Staring straight ahead he dropped his weapon and went to his knees
clutching at his belly.  Slowly he toppled over onto the floor and then lay
writhing and jerking his legs, keeping his mouth open to pretend blood was
pouring out of it while he died.  At last, after a few final spasms he lay
sprawled on his back, eyes staring, with one leg half pulled up.  The
twisting of his death agony had pulled his costume aside uncovering his
rigid boner, which was now jutting up from his groin in such stiffness that
the tip was quivering with his heartbeats.

Adam counted to sixty, holding his breath, imagining that he was bending
over himself, checking to be sure his twin was dead.  Then he got up to
resume his own role.  Adjusting his costume he went down the hallway to the
kitchen and padded across the cool linoleum to the connecting door that led
to the garage.

A familiar odor of damp mustiness filled Adam's nose as he descended the
four steps to a rough concrete floor.  In the dark corner next to the
stairs, garden tools were propped against the wall and he reached behind
them to retrieve a smooth wooden pole.  Months ago Adam had fashioned the
thing from a broom salvaged out of the trash.  By breaking off the broom
part he had given the pole one jagged end and left the other rounded and
smooth.  The length was just right for a pretend spear and after hefting it
Adam mounted the steps back to the kitchen.

Closing the connecting door Adam paused again to listen.  The electric
clock on the wall by the stove gave off a soft humming sound and from
somewhere in the house wood creaked on wood.  Adam checked his weapons.
Now that he was armed with both spear and sword he must fight his way to
the Forbidden Temple past enemy guards lying in wait to stop him.
Sometimes he resurrected his twin for the guard role but today the two of
them had already killed each other once, so he would use different
imaginary boys that he had invented for that purpose, costumed like the
Dark Elf Warriors in his favorite videogame.

Silent on bare feet he crept through the kitchen, passing the opening to
the hallway where his twin's dead body still lay in a pool of blood on the
carpet.  Beyond was the arch to the dining area by the living room and
after peering cautiously around it he dashed through, heading for the cover
of a chair.

Something flashed in the air.  A short javelin!  It's sharp point gashed
his shoulder as he ran into the living room, sword in one hand and spear
ready in the other.  There!  By the fireplace!  A boy warrior younger than
himself, who looked frightened, already had another javelin lifted.  But
Adam was too quick for him.  Knocking the spear aside with his own he
corkscrewed in and took the boy with a sword thrust in the chest, passing
his blade straight through the other's slender little body.  The youngster
stared at him in horror, opening his mouth to scream but choking instead on
a bubbling froth of pink foam that came pouring from his mouth.  His knees
buckled and when Adam pulled his sword free the boy crumpled to the floor,
legs jerking.

Stepping clear of his dying enemy, Adam checked for others and then ran to
the front hallway, heedless of the sticky warmth running off his left
shoulder.  His arm was covered with blood but he felt no pain and could
still use his spear - and that was all that mattered!  Move! He told
himself.  Stay on the attack!

Going up the stairs he dodged another javelin that stung his hip, but there
was no time to stop.  Two more warriors, boys his own age, came at him on
the landing.  Adam twisted inside the first one's guard to slash him across
the belly.  Then he speared the other in the throat.  The first boy
screamed, dropping to the floor, guts spilling over his clutching hands,
while the second stood for a moment, eyes staring.  Then he, too, went
down, falling onto the other boy, his feet kicking as he choked on the
blood pouring out of his mouth.

With the path clear, Adam took a step toward his room that had now become
the Temple portal - and nearly went down himself as his left leg buckled.
A quick glance showed him that it was covered in blood and he realized the
wound in his hip was worse than he had thought.  But it was too late to
stop now!  He was so close - the Temple crypt was just beyond!  He only had
to touch the altar and the evil power threatening the world would be
broken!  Gritting his teeth he limped through the doors and saw the great
golden altar gleaming in the light from flaring torches on the walls.

But the alter was guarded!  Two more warriors emerged from the shadows,
boys older and bigger than he was!  Adam's heart thudded in fear.
Mustering all his courage he stood up straight and lifted his sword.  He
must not fail!  Even though he was afraid, he must not fail!  Not now!

The two guards were like the big kids Adam sometimes played against in
soccer, opponents he could not equal in strength but must beat with speed.
Ignoring the weakness in his leg he parried the first boy's sword thrust,
feinted, and then made a thrust of his own catching his opponent just under
the vee of his ribs.  The taller boy's eyes widened as the sharp blade slid
into his body and Adam felt the tip grind against bone.  For a split second
he held the sword in place then jerked it out as the dying boy fell toward
him.  Dodging out of the way Adam barely avoided a slicing stroke of the
other guard's weapon, but loss of blood was weakening him and he came close
to falling.  Lifting his sword to block the next attack he saw too late
that the second boy also held a long spear.  The thrust came much too fast
to knock aside.  Before he could twist away the needle sharp tip had
stabbed into his belly.

Adam felt the spear go completely through him and knew he was dead.
Instinctively he dropped his own spear and grasped the wooden shaft of the
weapon penetrating him, holding it like a bar of a cold fire in his gut
while he fought to stay on his feet.  In front of him the guard who had
delivered the killing thrust was leaning forward, close enough for Adam to
smell his breath.  Using all the strength remaining to him, Adam stabbed
upward, slashing the tip of his sword across the taller boy's ribs.

With a scream his enemy pulled back and the way to the altar was clear!
Adam willed himself to take a step, then another.  The altar was there,
just a few feet away!  All he had to do was reach it to destroy the deadly
power forever!  Vision blurring, Adam lurched forward, never feeling the
final sword thrust the desperate guard made into his side.

With the first touch of Adam's hand on the altar's smooth golden surface
the enemy warriors exploded into dust and Adam knew he had won.  Tottering,
he collapsed slowly onto the floor, his body half turned, arched on the
impaling spear.  As he pictured himself lying there with the spear through
him, it's end sticking out his back, Adam felt his boner get so hard it
ached when he writhed and squeezed his butt.  It was the feeling the game's
final excitement always gave him and he made it last for as long as he
could, twisting in a pretend death agony before ending it with a few jerks
of his legs.

He lay motionless, arms and head flung back, holding his breath and staring
so he would appear to be dead, feeling the heart beats throbbing in his
rigid penis.  He was highly aroused now, so he did not play dead for too
long but reached down and stroked himself, sliding his fingers on the slick
stretched skin of his straining shaft, trying to harden it even more by
squeezing his butt while he replayed the last part of the game in his mind;
the thrust of his sword... the spear going through his body...

He stroked faster, pulling up one knee and then arching and squeezing...

There!  It was happening!  An aching like he had to pee and a throbbing at
the base of his jutting boner...  Adam rubbed harder, breath-holding until
his vision blurred and he had to gasp for air, sprawled on the floor, his
heart pounding...

It felt so good.  Even better than doing the most chin ups at school, or
scoring a goal in soccer.  It was like when Brant had put an arm around him
and touched him and...

Adam stripped off his costume and then reached for the belt lying nearby on
the floor so he could lift it to his nose.  Brant was so awesome!  Just
thinking about him gave Adam the good feeling and he reached down to stroke
himself again.  Brant was the coolest, the best, the most awesome person in
the world and if Adam had been able to spend every single second of camp
with him he would have.  Brant was a better soccer player than anybody,
plus he could swim, canoe, make campfires, cook, shoot...  Adam was sure
there was nothing Brant couldn't do, and when the older teen had promised
to get him into his cabin for the next summer it had been the greatest
thrill Adam could remember.  He was sure nothing in the whole world could
be better than staying with Brant for an entire summer.  Vacation just had
to come soon!

Adam took a pillow off his bed and then drew up his knees so he could move
closer to the wall.  Experience had taught him the right position and after
a few adjustments he stretched back on the floor lifting his butt so he
could slide the pillow beneath himself.  With his hips elevated, Adam
reached for the bottle of hand lotion and squirted a blob onto his palm.
The creamy stuff felt cool and slippery on his rigid boner as he stroked up
and down while holding the rolled up leather belt to his nose...

He was at camp playing soccer with his shirt off, racing downfield with the
ball, feinting past defender after defender.  He beat the last one and
drove a powerful kick through the goalie's outstretched hands to score the
winning point!  Excited and happy, surrounded by celebrating teammates, he
ran to the sideline where Brant was waiting.  "Best play of the summer!"
The counselor shouted, putting an arm around his shoulders...

Adam thought it would be worth dying to hear Brant say that just once and
he closed his eyes wishing it could be now so he wouldn't have to wait.
Almost he could feel the warmth of the older teen's body against his own
and it made him so hard his boner ached as it strained up from his groin.
Brant was so awesome.  Adam breathed in the leathery smell of the belt
feeling his counselor's arm around him, and the aching pleasure was there
again in his groin, making him lift his hips, arching up, wanting more and
more...  As the throbbing came he jerked, his slender body twisting...

Adam squirmed, pulling his knees up further and spread his thighs apart as
far as he could so he could reach down to push a finger into his butt hole.
Experimentation had taught him how to open himself and his lotion-slicked
finger sank in giving the sensation of fullness he had craved ever since
discovering how good it felt while exploring his body one night in bed.
Straining to get his finger up as far as he could he twisted it and pressed
on the special place behind his boner.  The ache of urgent pressure that
resulted felt so incredibly good it made Adam catch his breath.  He pulled
his head back, mouth opening at the thrilling pleasure that surged through
him.  Then, slowly, he let his finger slide back out so he could pick up
the broom handle.

Months ago Adam had made an exciting accidental discovery.  In an attempt
to make it appear as though a spear had gone through his body, he had
inserted the end of the broom handle into his butt and it had felt so
awesome he had been doing it ever since.  At first he had held the stick in
place with his hand, but it was not long before he found a better way.

Smearing the wooden handle's blunt tip with lotion Adam held it against his
butt hole and then, as he had learned to do, opened himself by straining
down like he was taking a dump.  Using practiced movements he pushed the
handle through his tight opening, moaning a little as it slid in because
the sensation of fullness was so much more than what his finger gave him.
When he felt it up inside his belly he braced the handle's broken end
against the base of the wall and then took his hand away, squirming a
little to make the blunt end move inside himself.

The aching pleasure that came was so intense Adam moaned again, wishing
somehow he could make it go on and never stop.  He began rubbing his rigid
penis, holding the belt to his nose, breathing in the smell of leather,
imagining that he was leaning against Brant's warm hard body while the
older boy hugged him around the shoulders.  It felt so awesome...  This
time they were alone where no one could see, so when Brant touched him he
could hug back and they wouldn't have to stop like they had before... and
his boner was so hard with Brant's fingers sliding on it... and Adam could
touch Brandt's hardness and then that hardness could be inside him like the
spear... and it would feel so good... so good...

Adam squirmed, twisting on the impaling wooden shaft, his smooth slender
body writhing as throbs pulsed in his rigid shaft.  It was happening!  He
rubbed faster, fingers darting over the head of his stiff penis and across
its tiny slit.  There was more throbbing and Adam moaned, then his feet
were kicking and he was straining to open himself, letting the stick slide
in his hole.

"Uhhhhh... Uhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Twisting in ecstasy the boy willed it to go on and on and on and never
stop, and he knew if he kept rubbing himself and breathing the leather
smell he could make it happen again and again, his slender naked body
twisting, fist pumping up and down...

Head pulled back, arching because it felt so good with the spear up in him,
Adam squirmed, driving the wooden handle in deeper until there was a bulge
in his lean stomach and the aching fullness was a dull pain.  Sliding his
fist on himself he strained to pull his knees apart while inhaling the
belt's leathery scent and he pictured Brant running on the soccer field, or
standing on the dock at the Lake, his strong tanned body glistening in the
sun.  More throbbing pulsed inside him and Adam groaned, kicking his feet.
A series of hard contractions made his slim body jerk.  Squirming and
twisting on the spear, Adam thought of how it would be when he could tell
Brant how much he liked him and the older boy could hold him close,
stroking and rubbing while their bodies touched...

"Uhhhhhhhhh..."

Another spasm throbbed around the fullness in his rectum.  Adam's lean
little body heaved up as contraction after contraction pulsed in his
jutting penis.  Warm slippery drops rolled off the tip lubricating his
pumping fist and he stroked faster, writhing with pleasure.  It was
happening!  The thing that felt so awesomely good...  The thing he could
only do with the spear in him and thinking of Brant touching him...  And it
was so good.  And all Adam wanted was for Brant to do it more and more and
more...

Twisting, moving the wooden shaft in himself, every muscle in his smooth
young body visible, Adam gave himself to the wave of pleasure breaking over
him.  The jerking contractions in his rigid boner were making him shudder.
Slippery warmth kept dribbling over his fist and he pumped desperately,
trying to make it go on and on and on...

When it stopped at last, Adam sprawled back on the rug, his arm falling
limply to the side.  But he kept the belt close to his nose, inhaling the
leather smell, imagining that Brant was still holding
him... whispering... stroking...

For a while longer he kept his knees pulled up, writhing slowly to keep the
end of the broom handle moving inside him.  Then very carefully he rolled
off the pillow onto his side, pretending to be dying from the spear thrust.
Sometimes the wooden handle in his butt slid out when he did this, but
other times the jagged end caught on the rug so it stayed in.  It stayed up
in him this time letting him play at dying longer.  After squirming for a
time clutching his stomach to feel the hard lump of the blunt end up inside
himself Adam finally kicked his feet and then lay still, staring straight
ahead, not breathing, pretending to be dead.  Only when he could hold his
breath no longer did he reach around behind and unsnag the handle's jagged
end from the rug.  Bit by bit it slid out of him taking with it that sense
of fullness he craved so much after it was gone.

For a while he lay still, stroking his rigid boner, thinking about Brant.
Then at last he rolled over and got up.  It was time to put everything away
and do his chores before his mother got home.  When he put his underwear
back on he felt the butt soreness that was always there after the game, but
he was used to that.  Padding in bare feet over to his desk he checked off
another day on his calendar.  In less than a month soccer camp would start
and this time he would be in Brant's cabin.  Brant had promised...  He
closed his eyes picturing how it would be when he got off the bus and saw
Brant waiting for him...

----------------------------------------------------

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  Rants and ravings will not get
consideration.

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You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name in the
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All the Best.  Joe