From: chadnfl@aol.com (Chad n FL)
Subject: Story: RONNIE (b/b, consent)
Date: 24 Aug 1996 00:33:37 -0400

R O N N I E
by Chad n FL

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER:  The following story is a work of fiction,
depicting a sexual encounter between two consenting, underage boys.  If
you are under 18 years of age, or this type of story offends you in any
way, please close this file and move on.  (You're probably in the wrong place
anyway!)

Please address any comments or suggestions to ChadnFL@aol.com
========================================================

	It was two weeks before the beginning of my freshman year in high
school, and I was scared shitless.
	I went to a fairly small junior high of about 600 students.  I was an
above average student who actually liked school.  I was considered good-
looking and popular by the teachers and the other kids.  In eighth grade, I
was on top of the heap.
	But in two weeks, I would be transformed into a lowly ninth-grader,
to be trampled on by hundreds of upper-classmen.
	Yeah, I was scared shitless.
	It was my mom who sensed my nervousness.  "Why don't you give
Ronnie a call?  He can tell you all about high school," she suggested.
	Ronnie Murphy and I had practically grown up together.  His
parents and my parents were best friends.  (My dad went to college with Mr.
Murphy.)  When I was younger, I frequently slept over at Ronnie's, or he at
my place.  All during our elementary school years we were almost
inseparable.  We did everything together.  Hell, we even took showers
together!  When he started in junior high two years before me, we started to
grow apart.  I suddenly realized that I hadn't talked to Ronnie in about a
year.
	A man's voice answered the phone.  "Is Ronnie there?" I asked.
	"This is Ronnie."  His voice was much deeper than I remembered.
	Embarrassed, I told him about my anxieties.  He assured me that
my feelings were normal, but with a little advice I would get along fine.
	"Why don't you sleep over Friday?  We can catch up on stuff and
I'll tell you all about high school."
	"Sounds great," I said.  I could hardly wait.  My mom called to me
to not be late for swim practice.  I finalized my plans with Ronnie and hung
up.  I really enjoyed swimming with the summer league that year.  The
daily workouts was helping to develop my thin body, and the exposure to the
sun wearing only my Speedos gave me a great tan.  But the best part of the
summer was the chance to look at the other guys in the locker room when
we changed before and after a meet.
	I guess I was kind of a late bloomer.  Throughout the sixth and
seventh grades, my crotch was just as smooth and hairless as the day I was
born.  I constantly played with it and got erections, in the blind hope that
this activity would stimulate growth.  Only in the previous year did I start
to grow pubic hair.  And at age 13 and a half I got the biggest surprise of my
young life--I masturbated to orgasm and ejaculation!
	So it was only natural that I checked out all the other guys to see
where they were on the puberty time table.  A lot of the little kids were really
little in the dick department, while some of the older guys looked like gorillas
to me.
	When I got home from practice that afternoon and my mom went
out on some errand, I went up to my room and peeled off my trunks to find
my little erection pointing straight up.  I sat on the bed and stroked it.
It felt good...no, it felt great.  If it feels this good when I do it, how good
would it feel if someone else did it?
	I closed my eyes and thought of when I was six years old.  I was in
the shower with Ronnie.  I had to take a piss, but didn't want to get out of
the shower, so Ronnie took my little pee-pee in his hand and aimed in
toward the drain.
	All too soon, I shot my cum over my heaving stomach.  The rest of
the afternoon, I could not get Ronnie out of my mind.  I wonder if he would
hold my dick while I pissed now?
	Friday arrived, and Ronnie called.  Would it be okay if he picked me
up at 6:00 so that we could eat some dinner and then play tennis on the
lighted courts at the park?  It never occurred to me that Ronnie was 16 and
already had his driver's license.
	He came by at the appointed hour in his family's station wagon, and
after some friendly chatter with my mom, we set out on our way.
	It was a blazing hot afternoon, and the evening was still and quite
warm.  After twenty minutes of tennis, we were both drenched with sweat.
Ronnie paused to take off his shirt, and I followed suit.  We played for
another half-hour until the heat won out, we had net kept score.  I hopped
over the net and ran to Ronnie.
	"Let's go.  They shut off the lights at ten," Ronnie said.  We drove
back over to his house and I was surprised to find it empty.
	"Where's your mom and dad?" I asked.
	"Didn't I tell you.  My parents are out of town for the weekend. Put
your stuff up in my room."
	While Ronnie placed a call to his mom, I took my overnight back
upstairs.  Ronnie's room was covered with posters of exotic cars and rock
musicians.  A bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower was off to the left, but
the room was dominated by a huge king-size bed.
	"I'm the first in the shower."  I had not heard him come up behind
me.  He went into the bathroom and turned on the water, but did not close
the door.  I sat on the bed, kicked off my shoes, and pealed off my sweaty
socks and shirt.
	"Come in the bathroom so we can talk," Ronnie shouted.  I sat on
the toilet lid as we chatted about this and that.  Steam rose above the
frosted glass of the shower.  His body was distorted out of shape by the
glass, but his deep tan was apparent.
	Presently, he shut off the water and opened the door just enough to
slide his arm through. "Hand me that towel, will you?"
	Finally, Ronnie emerged from the shower, his towel around his
waist, his upper body covered with water droplets.
	
	I took this opportunity to check out his bareness up close.  His
nipples were dark brown, and big around as half-dollars.  His pectoral
muscles were well-developed and adult-looking.  A thick growth of wet man-
fur filled both armpits.  Some thin black hairs were just starting to come
through in the center of his chest, but his pubic hair reached high out of his
towel and formed an intriguing "happy trail" around his belly-button. Even
though Ronnie was not close to the hairiness he would achieve in a few
years, he was still way ahead of me.  I had a few downy strands under my
arms, but my chest and stomach were completely smooth.
	"You're in great shape, Ronnie," I said.  "Do you work out?"
	"A little.  I use the weight room at school a couple of times a week."
He flexed his biceps and looked at himself in the mirror.  "Maybe you can go
with me sometimes--develop those pecs."
	Ronnie drew a damp finger across my chest, from one nipple to the
other.  Even in the steamy heat, a chill rose up in me.
	I quickly took my shower and dressed in clean white jockeys and a
loose-fitting ribbed tank top.  I usually wore pajamas to bed but I decided to
leave them at home.  I toweled my hair and went back into the bedroom.
Ronnie was lying on one side of the bed, the covers turned back, a stack of
pillows under his head and shoulders.  Two more pillows were stacked on
the other side of the bed, obviously meant for me.
	We often slept in the same bed as little kids.  So hell, why not
now?
	Ronnie was wearing a pair of cotton boxers, which appeared to
glow from the light of the television.  Letterman was chattering with some
celebrity or other.  I lay down on my side of the bed.
	Ronnie turned on the bedside lamp and with the flick of the remote,
muted the TV.  "Got enough room?"
	"Plenty for me," I said.
	"I got this bed about two years ago.  No one besides me has slept
on it."
	"What?  No women?  A stud like you?" I quipped.
	"Well, it's not for lack of trying.  Just haven't been lucky yet!"
Ronnie stretched and lifted himself slightly off the bed.  As he rolled over on
his side toward me, something long and brown peeked its head through the
opening in his shorts. I started laughing.
	"What's the matter?"
	I laughed harder.  "It looks like the horse got out of the barn!" Now
almost his entire penis had snaked through the fly.
	"What the...?"  Ronnie looked down and discovered the source of
my amusement.  He took the head of his dick between his right thumb and
index finger, and shook his left finger in mock admonition.  "Now look here,
Mr. Wiener.  I told you to behave yourself when we have company."  Then
he moved his dickhead like a talking finger puppet and exclaimed in his
highest falsetto voice, "I'm sorry, master.  I thought I smelled pussy here!
But now I look around...I see no pussy!"
	By this time, I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt.  "Are you sure
you don't see any pussy?"
	"I'm sure," cried Mr. Wiener.
	"You're double sure?"
	"Oh, yes.  I'm double sure!"
	Quickly, I spread my legs apart, reached into my underwear, and
carefully tucked my own dick and balls between my legs.  Then I slowly
brought my legs back together.  "Look at this," I said as I pulled my jockeys
down in front.
	"Shit!  It looks just like a fucking pussy!"  Ronnie's eyes grew big.
"Doesn't it hurt to do that?"
	I admitted it was a bit uncomfortable.  I let go of the elastic band
and covered up my "pussy."  Suddenly Ronnie rolled over and sat up on top
of my thighs, careful to not crush my balls.  He waved his dick, which now
seemed a little bigger, at me.
	"Mr. Wiener wants a closer look."
	My laughing turned into disbelief as Ronnie slowly pulled down the
front of my shorts.  His trembling fingers tentatively explored my pubic
hair.
	Neither of us said a word as Ronnie slid his hands around to my
backside.  He sat up on his knees, relieving all pressure on my legs.  He
eased his hands inside my underwear, feeling my smooth buns.
Instinctually, I lifted off the bed and allowed him to ease my underwear
down, and then completely off.
	I looked up.  Mr. Wiener was not only still looking out, he stood at
full attention.
	Ronnie moved his hands in a circular motion around my white
pelvis, and then slid my tank top up around my neck.  I remained
motionless, unable to react.  I wasn't sure if Ronnie was teasing me, or
whether I was teasing him.  In any case, he seemed to be caught up in the
fantasy of having a real girl in the bed with him, and I was bound to let
him play it out.
	"Such soft skin..." he humbled between rapid breaths.  His fingers
went up under the folds of my tank top and encircled my tits, causing the
nipples to become erect.  He lowered his face over my midsection and I felt
his hot breath.  His lips met the rise of my belly and he stayed with me,
rolling out his tongue.  He licked around, and thrust into my bellybutton.
Then lower, into my tangled bush.
	My skin was hot with excitement.  The tips of my fingers, the back
of my neck, my blushing cheeks--felt as though they were burning.  I closed
my eyes.
	Suddenly, Ronnie rolled off me, and onto the other side of the bed.
He turned off the lamp.
	"Ronnie?"
	"Shhh," he said.  He opened the drawer of his nightstand and
pulled something out I couldn't see.
	The blue moonlight shone through the parted blinds, and my eyes
slowly adjusted.  Ronnie rolled back toward me, dipped into the jar he was
holding, and applied some cool grease between my legs, under my balls.
This done, he slipped out of his boxers, and annointed his own dick with the
thick jelly.
	By now, of course, I had figured out that he intended to use my
Vaseline-covered triangle as a surrogate vagina.  Strangely, I felt
flattered.  Flattered and very horny for this young buck.
	Ronnie replaced the lid on the jar and cast it aside.  He pushed my
legs together tight, placing his legs on either side.  The illusion of pussy was
gone, however, as my dick was sticking five inches straight up.
	Ronnie carefully inserted his prick between my legs--slowly as if
busting the cherry of some young virgin.  The expression on his face was
one of shear pleasure.  Obviously, this felt a hellava lot better than
jacking off.
	My own dick slid sensuously up his belly as Ronnie lowered
himself.  The tickling sensation of his navel hair on this underside of my
glans made me almost shiver.  As Ronnie's pubic hair brushed against my
scrotum, I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back, caressing the
mounds of his ass.
	 Ronnie started a slow up-and-down movement, shifting around a
bit until he found exactly the right position.  Then he started really fucking.
His eyes were closed, imagining something or someone I can only guess.
He put his hands on my shoulders, then around to my back.  As he
increased his rhythm, he hugged me close.  Ronnie's sweat mingled with
my own, causing our skin to glide smoothly together.
	I felt his rough chin on my neck, then his lips.  He sucked gently,
then with more force.  It must be fun, I thought, to get a hickey.  But before
a mark could be made, Ronnie withdrew the suction and licked his way up to
my face.  He paused at the corner of my mouth, and tentatively rested his
lips on mine.
	I was startled by this move, but I did not recoil.  Encouraged,
Ronnie kissed me tenderly, again and again.  Finally, I relaxed my jaws
enough for him to run his tongue over mine.
	Ronnie's breathing increased like he was sprinting the end of a
marathon.  Suddenly, he raised his head and upper body off me, and
concentrated on his pumping action.  After a moment, a pained expression
came over his face, and he slowed down to take five final strokes.
	Ronnie grunted as I felt a warm wetness hit my balls and run down
to the crack of my ass.  Ronnie exhaled, and his spent, limp body came to
rest on me.