Date: Fri, 30 Nov 2001 21:13:56 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter two

This is a story involving teen/boy, male/male graphic sex and not
intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type
of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read
something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only
for the purpose of pleasurable reading.

Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Boy in a Pink Box ~ chapter two

by Biscuit


I was three years older, a whole head taller and I outweighed
Gareth by at least thirty or forty pounds. But I was a babe in the
woods compared to him. Before I met him, I knew I had a dick.
I knew it felt really good when I touched it, but it was a now and
then, before I fell asleep, thing. Gareth came along and suddenly
nothing was as real as the live wood between my legs.

My dad wasn't gone five minutes before I was getting the first
blowjob of my life, flat on my back, staring straight up at
Gareth's little crack and his baby cock and balls. The minute my
dad had gotten out of earshot, Gareth had grabbed my crotch and
given me his breathless look.

"I want to suck you, Joey."

"Jesus," I hissed at him, grabbing his wrist; a five-alarm signal
set off in my chest. I wrenched his hand off me but pulled him
against me with my other arm, like I could shut him up if I
squeezed him. The kid was so much like a puppy, but a million
times better. His back was silky smooth under my arm and he was
so alive and wiggly, hugging me, his face warm through my
tee-shirt and his legs tangling up with mine to poke his little boner
on my thigh, like he'd done in the shower. I was dying, trying to
listen for the sound of my dad getting in his truck over the beating
of the words -- I want to suck you -- in my brain. I was so turned
on it felt like I had molten lead boiling in my balls. It took forever
for the truck to start up and pull out over the crushed shells of the
driveway.

"He's gone," Gareth said, tugging at my waist. Cocksuckers, fags,
queers, perverts, what the fuck. All these words I knew were
swimming around somewhere, but I couldn't bring them into focus
on him. His cheeks were all rosy and his lips, oh God, his lips were
like something on a valentine. He let go of me and flounced on the
bed, and I froze like a statue watching him strip off the jeans he'd
just put on. I unfroze when he perched on his haunches, tickling his
own little dick with just one finger, smiling at me. I pulled my
tee-shirt off. His big eyes were sparkling, making me blush as I
took off my pants.

"God, you're not half gorgeous, Joey!" he said.

I'd never have put the words me and gorgeous together. I guess I
knew I looked all right. Mostly I was glad there was nothing wrong
with me. I'd take a quick look in the mirror every morning to
make sure everything was where it should be, and I thought I just
looked 'normal'. Only Irene ever talked about my looks, saying
how handsome I was. Grandmothers have to say that kind of thing.
Well, Jen once told me I was really cute, but that's just girl talk.
It never mattered until I heard the little punk say it. Then it was
too good to be true.

"Shut up," I told him, but I knew I didn't mean it, and so did he.
I was shivering, hot and cold, when I laid down on the bed, and
my dick felt like it was going to burst if it got any bigger.
Compared to Gareth's it was obscenely huge and nasty-looking,
veiny and dripping, and I couldn't believe how he was looking at
it, like he was hungry and I had a big piece of cake between my
legs! I was proud of the little patch of blond-brown fuzz that had
grown in only months before, but never thought the rest of it was
anything to brag about.

"It's so big!" he said, and I thought I'd come on the spot when he
touched it. Part of my brain was puzzling over just how many
he'd seen to compare it to. I almost asked him, but I lost track of
everything when he climbed over me, on all fours, and sank his
hot mouth right on it! Oh Jesus, God all mighty Christ! Spit, soft,
hot and squeezing, like my dick was stuck in a live clam. I
moaned and my fists hit the bed and I was staring up at his crotch
trying to pull air into my lungs.

His body danced over my face. I couldn't do anything but moan
and try to keep from shoving my whole cock down his throat.
His mini-prick was inches away from my nose, jelly-bean balls
so close I could count the wrinkles. The stretch of soft-looking
skin between his balls and his ass made my mouth water wanting
to lick it, but all I could do was stare. I wanted him, I wanted the
whole damn thing in my mouth, but I just looking at it until my
eyes scrunched up. I was losing control of my hips, pushing my
dick through his lips. Then the little guy sucked me in so deep I
felt his nose in my balls, and I shot off like a rocket, my cock
jerking like it would jump right down his throat.

That was it. I died and got reborn. With that gusher, I kissed the
world as I knew it good bye and landed in a place where nobody
lived but him and me. I was dazed, like I'd melted. Gareth's
mouth was still on my prick, holding it soft in his lips. It felt
good. Everything felt good, so good that I moaned miserably
when he took his mouth off me and tumbled away to the side.
But he didn't go anywhere. He was on his knees, leaning
against my leg, looking at me, smiling. He licked his swollen
lips. Oh God!

"Now I'm really your boy," he said. His hand strayed down to
his little toy dick, still hard as a pencil stub, and started that
one-finger stroking thing. I had to clear my throat to get my
voice to work.

"Come on up here," I said.

"You don't have to do me, Joey." He lowered his eyes and put
a warm damp hand on my thigh. "I could just do myself here,
you know, like in the shower, if that's okay."

"Whatever you want, but, I'd like to." Jesus, I said it. And it
wasn't as hard to say as I'd thought it would be. This was the
new world I lived in, a place where I'd spunked all over him
and down his throat, a place where I "wasn't half-gorgeous,"
and he was my boy. All four feet of him, or however the hell
tall he was. Small but perfect. Everything. Even his little
package was perfect and I wanted to feel it in my mouth. His
grin got bigger, showing off his dimples, and his eyes flashed
up at me.

"Yeah," he said, and walked up on his hands and knees until he
was parked over me with his legs spread out and that sprout of
his was hovering near my mouth. Oh yeah. I opened up wide
and put my hands around his soft buns, pulling him down until
it was all in my mouth. Smooth and warm and hard and soft,
all at the same time. My nose nudged into his belly and I licked
his tiny balls, trying to feel the shapes with the tip of my tongue.
I can't say I felt like I was sucking dick. I mean I was, but his
was salty sweet, and more like some kind of living pop-top on a
water bottle than a dick. I loved the way it felt in my lips and
I started sucking hard like I could get some juice out of him. It
pulsed on my tongue and I swirled it, excited by the sounds he
was making and the way his hips wiggled in my hands. I
tightened my lips and he poked the soft-skinned head in and out
a half dozen times and then left it deep as he could while I
rubbed my tongue on the end of it. He was shaking and moaning
and his cock twitched like crazy, like it wanted to spurt but
couldn't. My lips were hot and tingling when he pulled away,
and I didn't want to let him go. I could have sucked him for
hours.

Damn if he didn't find a new way, every second, to make me
feel good! He snuggled into my armpit, all moony-eyed, and
started trailing his fingers over my chest, zeroing in on my
nipples. If I hadn't paid that much attention to my dick before,
it's like I didn't even know my nipples existed until he touched
them! I flattened my hand on his fingers to make him hold still,
it felt too good, almost ticklish.

"Guess what," he said.

"What?"

"Chicken butt," he giggled, and pinched my nipple hard,
sending a hot shot of electricity straight down my belly to my
dick which popped up like I hadn't just shot two loads in less
than an hour.

"Shit!" I jack-knifed up, and he tried to squirm away. I
grabbed him. He was shrieking and struggling, but the minute
I got him folded up in my lap like a baby, he went all
spaghetti-like, looking pretty much like he'd looked when I
was holding him out in the bay. Part of me wanted to lay one
on him, like I could magically know how to kiss. But what I
did was freak out, just like I had out in the water, and I tossed
him. "Get your pants on, runt. Let's get out of here."

It was too much. I didn't care if my dick was hard again. Jesus,
I'd almost kissed him! Not that I had any idea how. Honestly, if
I hadn't been sure I'd make a fool of myself by trying, I'd have
probably planted a big wet one right on his pretty mouth. But
I didn't know how. I'd never kissed anybody in my life. Even
Jen, that time. I'd only stood there while she brushed her soft
little mouth on mine.

I wanted out of there, off the bed, into the sun, with at least a
few feet of breathing room between me and him. I didn't even
look at him as I got into my clothes. I shot out the door
without a backward glance and threaded my way down the hall,
through the living room and out onto the back deck. The sun
was starting to set, and the light was gold and purple out there
around big puffy clouds. From the deck you could see over the
scrubby treetops, stretching down into a valley and back up
toward the highway. I just hung there at the railing, staring
out.

Our backyard's not much. The shell driveway curves around
to the back and there's piles of wood under tarps. A couple of
sheds. One's rickety, bleached wood, really old. The other's
kind of like a big doll house thing that my dad bought all in one
piece. He stores yard stuff in it and I put my bike away in there
for the winter. There's a garage under the house but my dad's
got it fixed up for woodworking and an office, with sliding
glass doors and all.

I was waiting for Gareth, feeling guilty and weird. I wished he
would come out, but I also wished he wouldn't, because I didn't
know what I'd do when he did come out. My dick was calming
down but not soft yet, and my head was still spinning.

Then I heard crunching on the driveway, not loud enough for
the truck. Terry's booming voice.

"Hey, Davis, you home?" He came cycling around the back of
the house, followed by D'Arcy and Jen.

"What's up?" I called down to them, trying not to sound as
unenthusiastic as I felt. Any other day I'd have run for my
bike and been lucky if I remembered to leave my dad a note
before taking off with them. I heard the slider open behind
me and looked. Gareth stepped out, in my jeans and his
Orange Crush tee-shirt, barefoot. So fucking cute.

"Whoa," Terry said, "look who's got some real pants."

D'Arcy, who looks more like she ought to be called Heather,
with her long blond hair and all, was getting off her bike.

"Gotta pee," she announced, like anybody wanted to know,
and she started up the deck stairs, which started the other two
after her.

Fuck! All I wanted to do was get rid of them. Jen, the
Wynona Rider of Oceanus middle school, was next in line
after D'Arcy. Then Terry. And his eyes were on my boy. I
knew, sure as I knew my name was Joe, that my best buddy
had it bad for Gareth.

Terry's bigger than I am and I had to admit to myself that if
anyone deserved to be looked at like Gareth had looked at
me -- it was Terry. And there he was scooping the kid up like
he had a right to, swinging him up in the air, laughing at how
the kid was squirming to get away.

"Put him down, Tarzan," Jen said. "You're gonna make him
puke. Hey Joey, your dad's not here, can I smoke?"

"Nah, not up here. He's coming back. Let's go out in the
woods, you can smoke there."

"Wait for Darce," she said, but I started down, not wanting to
see Terry's hands all over Gareth. My chest hurt, imagining
Terry holding him in his arms like I had. In my mind he
was kissing him and it gave me this god-awful ache in my gut.
I'd almost made it down the stairs when I heard Terry mutter,
"Fuck!"

Jen laughed, and said, "Serves you right, Tarzan. Boy got
away!"Then there was the padding sound of Gareth's little
bare feet on the stairs. He skittered around behind me,
whooping when his bare feet hit the pebbles and rough wiry
gorse we've got more of than grass. Like a monkey up a tree
he climbed my back, winding his legs and arms around me.

"Do me a favor, would you?" I yelled up at Jen. "His shoes
are in the bathroom." Like I ever wanted to stop feeling
the weight of him hanging on me; it was fucking awesome.
Terry, recovered from whatever the hell Gareth had done
to him, to get away, was bounding down the stairs.

"No fucking way. No shoes for Boy." He must have dug his
hands in where Gareth was ticklish because suddenly the
warmth of him wrapped around me was gone and he was
giggling madly and Terry was swinging him over his
shoulder like a sack. "We're going to Jen's for a cookout,"
Terry said as he tossed him. "We just came to get you and
junior."

"Not tonight. My dad's coming back with pizza."

I kept walking, but with an eye on them. Terry was
laughing and his hand was on Gareth's ass.

"Bugger off," Gareth swore at him. "Bloody hell, let go
of me!"

I stopped. I don't know where I got the nerve.

"Enough," I said, all casual, like my heart wasn't hammering,
like it was no big deal. I reached up and lifted Gareth off of
him, and set him down near the woodpile where he could
wait for Jen to bring down his shoes. She was already on the
stairs, D'Arcy with her, waving the kid's little yellow sneaks
in her hand.

"Oh man," Terry laughed, "look at them, baby doll shoes!"

D'Arcy squatted down and made Gareth let her put his shoes
on for him. She took a good look at his shiny toenails.

"Did you paint them?" she asked, peering at the shine.

"My mum did it," he said. What can you expect from a
woman who'd dress him up like a canary? Any other kid
would have died before admitting his mother had painted
his toenails, and we'd have been pissing ourselves making
fun of him. But Gareth just shrugged, and nobody laughed.

"Cute enough to kiss," D'Arcy said, and I looked away,
guilty of thinking the same damn thing.

"Jungle boy," Terry said, "I'd get that shit off your feet
before school starts if I was you."

School. Was Gareth really going to be around that long?
I got a sudden image of him with his cheeks pink in the
cold, in a flurry of snow, like one of those Christmas
globes you shake with a scene inside them. My mouth
went dry and my dick shot north. Thank God everybody
was walking again, not looking at me, as we headed into
the trees. Then I thought again, of school, and pictured him
there. Not good. He'd be in the Lower School where I
couldn't watch out for him. I imagined him getting
pummeled by monster fourth-graders, or would it be
fifth? Fuck! I can't believe I was freaking out about school
in the middle of June. But, of course it wasn't school that
was freaking me, it was him.

"Can I have a fag?" Gareth was asking Jen, who had pulled
out her pack of smokes. My head jerked up.

"A what?" she asked.

"A fag," he said. "I want a smoke."

"That's what they call them in England," D'Arcy chimed in,
knowingly. "Fags. I heard it in a movie."

Yeah, I thought, miserably, that's what they call them here
too, looking at the kid that had become the center of my
universe.