Date: Mon, 19 Feb 2007 13:05:48 -0600
From: Kenny Santoria <argosylight@hotmail.com>
Subject: Cold Beaches 7

I'm going to try to continue with my story.  I got a little out of order
with the last two stories and a little off message, I think anyway.  I hope
that you will enjoy this part.  Again, I don't know how I found so much to
write about.  It got very long in the beginning before I got to the good
part at the end.  I just ask that you let me know what you think.  Email me
please at    argosylight@hotmail.com  Thanks, Kenny
****

It was the summer that I was just starting to drive.  I remember how bad I
wanted to drive on our vacation.  I'm not sure if it was before or after I
actually got my license. I was a little distressed that I wasn't going to be
at home and be able to drive and I wanted to take my turn when we got to our
vacation house.  Once I got there and saw how the traffic was, I gave up
almost any idea of driving on the island.  I was able to drive, on golf
carts.

Our family, all the aunts and uncles, had invested in a large beach house on
Crystal Beach, Texas.  It was just across the ferry from Galveston, right on
the beach and a great place for the family.  Or so I was told.  I barely
remember that beach house.  There was a storm that blew in and destroyed the
sand dunes.  It also took a few of the cheaper houses with it but ours
stayed.  The Great State of Texas has a law that requires land and houses to
be returned to the State that end up on the wrong side of the dunes.  Our
beach house was one of those.  All I really remember about that house was
riding by it years later and my mother pointing to the spot that used to
have our house.

To this day, some of my family will not give up on getting back the
property.  Two of aunts worked on a campaign to bring all the old Christmas
trees to the beaches to keep and restore the dunes.  The dunes have moved
back toward the Gulf but our property is still in the name of the State.  I
do have a feeling that the dunes on Crystal Beach are 75% Douglas Fir and
Norway Spruce and the rest sand, oil mousse, and Lone Star Beer cans.

There was a desperate need to find a place for a family vacation place.
Times were good, money was flowing, and the family had lofty goals.  Some
how we ended up in the Caribbean.  On the island of Sint Maarten in the
Dutch West Indies or really on the French side, Saint Martin, my parents and
aunts and uncles found a great villa.  With a relatively small investment,
we took over villa with a view of Orient Bay.  It was a complex of small
buildings, all enclosed by one of the ugliest fences I have ever seen in my
life.  The villa has evolved and been remodeled, the fence just keeps
getting uglier.

For the most part, I would enjoy going.  We would usually go when the summer
got boring and it was a great change.  We even went a couple of times in the
winter.  My parents just took us out of school and told them we would be
back in a few days.  I, my sister and brother, would get assignments and
homework so we wouldn't fall behind and then work on them while sitting on
the beach.  Or usually for me, on the flight home.  There were times when
the family competed for the best weeks.  My dad would just take what was
left, and he usually always made the other guilty because he got all the bad
weeks.  That meant we got a few more weeks.  And we could always rent the
place out to tourists.  All we have to do is tell the realtor that its
available that week and they find somebody, almost always.

My parents loved to overlap by a weekend with other family.  It meant
somebody sleeping on the pull out couches or the kids sleeping on the
chaises on the enclosed patios while the adults got actual beds.  That
summer trip didn't start out with anything special.  For a long weekend, my
brother and I slept outside and tried to keep the mosquitoes from biting.
The girls and parents took the bedrooms.  It did give me and my brother a
chance to talk and to bond.

It was that summer that he started to become a person worthy of my
attention.  He was no longer just some snot-nosed little pain in the ass.
He could talk about baseball and had good arguments about players and teams.
  He also had ideas of things to do and places to go.  He also quit making
it his prime purpose in life to get me in trouble for punching, pinching,
kicking, or spitting on him.  Not that I did that to him, ok, I did, some.

For two weeks, we shared one of the bedrooms.  At that time, the three
bedrooms were separate buildings joined by a covered walkway to the main
part of the house.  There was no bedtime, other than the time we had to
leave our parents alone.  There was no time to wake up.  There were only a
few times that we had to be somewhere.  We took a few boats out, did some
fishing, went to dinner at someplace fancy, or something like that.  About
the only rule we had was not to leave the complex.  That wasn't real hard to
follow.  If we went out the front gate, it was miles to anything at all, and
along a dangerous little street, or as the island people called it, a
highway.

My brother and I hung out almost the entire time.  We spent most of the time
on the beach, playing in the water, laying out on the sand, signing for
drinks (usually just cokes but occasionally we could convince one of the
French boys to bring us beers), and hanging around the game rooms.

There were a couple of waiters who would bring us beer or shots of rum when
all we had to do was strip.  There was no problem with swimming naked then
and not really too much problem these days in the right spots.  It didn't
always work when my brother did it but if I just changed from shorts to swim
suit, it would get the waiter's attention and make him bring me any drink we
wanted.  On the couple of days that we got brave enough to lay out naked,
(we didn't have to be all that bold when we were in the water) I don't think
we got all that much sun.  Those two waiters seemed to keep coming out and
seeing if we wanted anything.

I think this was the trip that I also introduce my brother to pot.  In many
ways, it was easier to buy than coca-cola.  Little kids from the island
would walk down the beach selling joints or baggies.  Ten dollars would go a
long way then.  After the first few days, we were high at least part of the
day.  He got our mother to buy him a glass bong as a souvenir.  She had no
idea what it was.  The bong ended up on a high windowsill as a decorator
piece.  You could see it as you drove by.

My brother did give up pot a few years later.  He started getting puffy
nipples and he heard a report that pot would do that to boys.  I think it
was just that period in puberty.

By the end of the two weeks, I was really enjoying my brother's company.  I
really looked forward to it.  It did surprise Trip, and his family when they
came to join the party.

Trip's family was coming to take over the villa.  They came early so they
could party with my family.  That usually meant the parents drank guavaberry
rum until they got loud and drunk.  They would even sneak off to the beach
at night and do some skinny dipping.  Something that we tried to avoid
seeing, and refused to admit that our parents were naked in public.  I knew
my mother loved to sunbathe topless but I would do all kinds of things to
let her know I was approaching so that she could wrap something around her.
My dad would sunbathe too.  He would always end up sunburned and with the
weirdest tans.  His manboobs really showed up a couple of years.

Trip, I and my brother hung out for a couple of days.  We really had fun.
My brother started liking Trip better than me but I actually thought that
was great.  They didn't like each other any better than I liked my brother.
The day before we were supposed to leave, we really started to work on our
parents to let us stay longer.  Trip's parent just loved me at the time.
They thought that I made life with Trip so much easier and I was a
responsible and quiet young man.  They had a different opinion of my little
brother.  To them, he was still just a little rugrat.  They were pretty open
to the idea of me staying.  They convinced my brother that he would be
better off going to his summer camp as planned.  They knew he would be
pissed for the rest of the year if he missed his camp.  He liked that camp
so much that he ended up working there all through college.

It just came down to whether I could swap my plane ticket.  That was no
problem at all, changed it to the flight with Trip.  They were concerned
about getting my clothes washed.  I told them that the only things I had
worn were one set of good clothes for when we went out, one pair of shorts,
a swim suit and a couple of t-shirts.  I only had one pair of dirty
underwear.  (Trip and I and a few others would set a new standard for a lack
of clothes a few years later when we celebrated getting out of college.  Not
everyone graduated, some just got out.)

The first few days, we just got into the same routine that I was doing the
weeks before.  I had started talking French, which meant bon jour and merci
and a few other phrases.  I was proud of myself and showed off for Trip.  I
was so glad that I never did tell him that I was speaking it.  When one of
our French beach waiters came out, Trip spoke quite a bit of French to him.
I knew it was just ordering and being nice but it was a whole lot more words
than I spoke.  Trip had been convinced to take French in school.  Mostly
because they had been to St Martin several times.

One day when Trip was really wanting another coke and we couldn't get any
attention, I told him I knew how we could get their attention.  I told him
he had to trust me.  The beach was almost full.  There were mostly older
people, they all sounded like they were from Jersey or the Bronx.  There
were a lot of old leather naked boobs getting sun.  And there had been a few
completely naked people.  A lot more in the water.  I was smiling so big
that I could feel my cheeks hurt as I told him to take off his suit and lets
go swim.

I didn't argue with him.  I just stepped right out of my suit and headed for
the water.  Several heads turned to look at me but nobody had a problem with
it.  I was ankle deep in the water when I turned around to look.  I really
expected to see Trip standing there, thumbs in his suit, trying to think
whether it was worth doing.  Instead, he was directly behind me.  He bumped
into me and that was the first naked physical contact we had that trip.  We
splashed around in the water.  We got out about chest deep, it hid our
boners even in the crystal clear water.  I had expected to just run in and
out of the water and back to our seats.  Instead, we stayed in the water for
a while.

We did get out and return and sure enough, both the waiters came to us
quickly.  We stayed standing as we dried off.  I saw a lot of people looking
at us.  A couple of little boys who hadn't been wearing anything were
staring.  There were ladies in their 30's and 40's looking.  I'm pretty sure
that two old men got boners from looking at us.  The waiters sure were ready
to help us out.  We ordered cokes but they offered to bring us complimentary
rum.  All that in French to Trip.  And they talked to Trip about swimming
and the water.  And about the dangerous Caribbean Prick shark, critters know
to swim by and bite off pricks in a single bite.

Trip and I dried off a lot longer than we were wet.  It was like we were
both going to stay naked as long as the other one stayed naked.  We got real
good service and had two cokes and two shots of rum before we decided to
walk along the beach. We kept our suits off as we walked.  There were places
on the beach with more people than we were comfortable with and our towels
and flip flops did pretty good at hiding our parts.  My heart was pounding
at the excitement.  Just a few weeks prior, I was doing anything I could to
have anyone to even speculate that I had a boner and there was no way I
would have gone naked in front of anybody.  After two weeks on the beach
with my family and seeing more naked people than in all the National
Geographics, and yes, Playboys and Penthouses, that I had looked through, I
started to ease up.  The rum we had also had a loosening effect.

We made it to almost the end of the beach, where it turned into piles of
large rocks and difficult shore before it turned again into another white
sandy beach.  We were far enough from the next person on the beach that you
couldn't tell if it was a woman or man.  We could see a yellow speedo or
bikini bottom but couldn't tell if there were tits or manboobs.  It was the
hottest part of the day.  Enough that it made us sweat and the sun to sting
even the darkest tans.  The water looked so good and cooling.  We piled
clothes on the beach and bounded into the surf.  As the water got to the
waist height, Trip attacked.  He jumped on my back.  I could feel his dick
slide across the small of my back as he slipped right on by.

For probably an hour, we wrestled and threw each other around.  While we
mostly stayed in water deep enough to hide our boners, they could be seen as
we jumped around.  We were limber and tall.  There was a time when I was
standing on top of one of Trip's feet and his other foot was on my shoulder,
pressing on my ear.  All the moves I made in the wrestling and playing
around was to somehow get balls and dick touching some part of the body.  It
didn't matter all the much if it was my dick on his body or his dick on me,
I just wanted that touch.  There were a couple of times that I ended up with
my hand fully wrapped around his dick.  One time, we had drifted into deeper
water and I was floating free, other than my grasp of his dick and balls.
Trip laughed so hard that he swallowed seawater and began coughing, he still
couldn't stop laughing.

After that, we made our way to the shallow water.  We weren't quite ready to
get out of the water.  Part of it was the boners we were both holding our
hands in front of to hide.  We sat at the edge of the water.  Waves would
roll up and wash over our legs.  The water would take my dick for a ride
with each wave.  The sand washed away directly under my butt crack and
directed water on my balls.  It was like a slow masturbation session.  While
it felt good, we eventually had to get up and get back to the house.

The villa at that time didn't have a bathroom that provided all that much
privacy but it was the best I could do.  Even though Trip and I had been
running around naked for the last couple of hours, I wanted to shut the door
to the shower and jerk off in private.  I had perfected the quick jerk, one
that I could get in and get out of the shower or bathroom without a lot of
time, thereby not arousing any suspicion.  I don't think I was all that
secretive though.  A few minutes after I got out of the shower, Trip stepped
in and within a minute, he had the water splashing in the rhythm that could
only be jerking.

We were nice young men for the rest of the afternoon and evening.  His
family had come in just after we did and there wasn't much chance to do
anything.  That night, Trip and I revived the nightly tradition that had
started a few years earlier.  There is something about a dark room, heads on
soft pillows, and the closeness of spending the entire day together that
allowed for a more open relationship.  I've noticed it in many
relationships.  The time between sunset and falling asleep is a time that
you are closest to the people.  Its like when you wake up each morning, you
have to get used to the other person, or get to know them all over again.
During the day, its fun or action or whatever adventure.  In the late
evening, the guards are let down and the heart and minds are opened up.

Trip and I talked of things of importance.  Of life and relationships.  And
sexy and loving things.  Some things may be trivial today, or even seemed
silly to others at that time, but they were the things in our world.  We
laid in bed, legs crossing the others, shoulders touching and fingers
feeling the warm skin.  The warm island breeze blew through the room as the
conversation slowed and sleep took over.

As reluctant as we were to go to sleep, we were even slower at waking in the
morning.  The mornings there meant Trip and I untangling arms and legs and
clearing the cobwebs in our brains.  The breaking point was usually
controlled by an enormous urge to pee.  If the rest of the family was gone,
it meant that only a few steps to the porch railing was as far as we needed
to go to pee.  Just hang our dicks over the rail and let it stream down the
densely cover hillside.  Not having to aim where my pee was going meant it
was so easy to start the pee while still having a boner.  I'm still working
on my idea of inventing a urinal that can allow that to happen, just stand
in front of it, put your hands on your hips, relax and let the pee flow.
The invention will have to work for all directions and sprays from the
various boners.

Trip and I started to hang on the most deserted part of the beach.  We could
live without the drink service and watching old leathery naked people wasn't
that thrilling.  The few topless girls that were there was an attraction but
being almost alone was more attractive.  I still think that more people
looked at the two of us when we were naked than anybody else in the area.
Old men, old women, young girls, guys our age, whoever, would look at us.
Some would stare and some would peek out of their sunglasses.

One day, Trip and I were on that deserted part.  Our work at eliminating any
tan line was in effect.  We had been in the water and were settled on the
beach, naked and boned up.  I watched as two little black figures came
walking our way.  It was a couple of local boys who walked up and down the
beach selling shell necklaces, scarves, and all kinds of cheap souvenir
junk.  They stood right in front of us and tried to sell us necklaces.
Actually, by the third day of trying to sell us, we both bought a shell
choker.  I wore mine long after that.  It broke twice and I repaired it
enough to keep it going.  It finally gave out completely the next spring.
The box of shells and bit of string are still in my top drawer of my
dresser.

That first day, when their sales pitch really wasn't working, everybody just
got quiet.  Those boys were just dressed in shorts and sandals.  Trip and I
had nothing but a smile and boner.  Trip made his dick pull up.  The boys
heads seemed to follow the motion.  I did the same and I could get mine to
slap my belly.  That made Trip giggle and the boys smile.  Trip and I did it
a few more times and then one of the boys pulled his shorts down.

His black uncut dick was sticking straight out at us.  It was probably only
3 inches but the foreskin seemed to hang at least an inch beyond that it a
wrinkled black nozzle.  He made it move in a wave to us.  For a few minutes,
there was an unspoken communication as the dicks rose and flopped back down.
  It was almost like the music in the movie Close Encounters.  The other boy
didn't move for a little bit.  I'm sure he didn't know what to think about
his buddy and two skinny white tourist boys flexing dicks at each other.
When Trip pointed to the other boy, the first one tapped him in the dick and
motioned with his head. Then a cute little uncut dick is exposed.  It was
only about an inch or so.  It was looking right at us, so I figured it was a
boner.

Trip then grabbed his own dick and flipped it up and down quickly.  The two
boys did the same thing.  Then they both pointed at me.  I had to mimic the
move as well.  Trip then spun his around and the boys and I did the same,
well Shorty as we called him from then on, tried the motion.  Trip cupped
his balls and bounced them, that meant the boys had to lower their shorts
more and Shorty's dropped all the way to the sand.  They wore no underwear.
Trip pulled on his pubic hair and the first boy pulled on his short little
black hairs.  His skin lifted to show proof that there were some short
little hairs there.  Trip made a motion like he was jerking off and we all
did the same.  That got us all laughing and that started the talk again.  We
did buy some Sugar Babies from them.  They walked off with their shorts
still down and intentionally wiggling their butts at us.  I was sure they
would go home and tell the entire island about the two American gay boys on
the beach.

We would encounter those boys a few more times before we left.  It usually
ended with us buying a little candy.  It got to where the boys would pull
their pants down and walk up to us.  That was fine when we were on the far
end of the beach by ourselves.  It freaked Trip's family when we were with
them under the roof of one of the clubs waiting out the rainstorm.

One day when we were alone on the far end, the motioning with our dicks was
really just jerking off for real.  I didn't know if the older boy and Trip
were actually planning on jerking until we all shot but I wasn't all that
far from actually shooting.  I just sure didn't want to be the first one,
especially if it was just for show.  I did want to see the white cum shoot
out of that dark black dick.  We might have jerked all the way if it wasn't
for Gaston and his wife walking towards us.  The boys didn't want any hassle
and they turned around and went back to the populated part of the beach.  I
tucked my boner between my legs, trying to make it look like a limp dick
that just got caught there.

Gaston and his wife, were our neighbors at the villa.  His grandchildren
still share the place today.  They lived in France, in Paris itself.  They
spent as much time in St Martin as they did at home.  Both of them were card
carrying nudist, where they carried their cards is their own business.
Gaston looked like a beer keg with legs.  Gaston had the longest limp dick
that I have ever seen.  It hung down from sparse pubic hair that made it
look even longer.  It had to be 8 inches long with good girth.  It was as
tan as the rest of him.  None of us had even seen a hint of an erection in
his dick.  It was always out there and that is probably why it was no big
deal to us and the rest of our families.  Gaston would work in his garden,
workout on his outdoor set of weights, walk around the yard, and stayed
naked the entire time.  The only time the my Trip's mother would get upset
with Gaston's nudity is when he would lay on his back and press heavy
weights with his legs.  Seeing his gray hair covered butt hole was a little
unsettling.  Gaston's dream was to have a clothing optional golf course.  It
was something about swinging at balls while his hung and swung.

Have you ever done anything really stupid and lived?  Like going a little
too fast on an icy highway and hitting a patch of black ice and end up
spinning and sliding all over the highway, only to come to a stop on the
opposite side with no real damage.  Or doing some wild-ass stunt that begins
with "Here, hold my beer.  Watch this!" Then you come so close to dying.
You are just relieved to be alive.  This was one of those times.

One day when the boys came down to either sell us necklaces and Sugar Babies
or wave dicks at each other, Trip asked them if they had any pot to sell.
We hadn't even touched my stash left over from the weeks before and Trip
wanting to load up.  The boys told us that we should follow them.  We went
all the way to the end of that beach and had to make our way around and over
the rocky shoreline.  There was a brushy area that we went right up to and
followed the boys through a small path to nasty looking building.  It was
nothing more than a roof and three partial walls surrounding a few chairs
and tables.  In the building, were two large black gentlemen.  The skinnier
of them was obviously so high that he was just enjoying life that flashed
behind his eyes.

The other man was big.  As he started to speak, his voice was so deep and
booming that it alone scared me.  He said "So dis be the pretty white boys
dat like to play dickie-dickie wit Anton. You got a dickie dat make it worth
seeing?  Let me see dat dickie."

Trip was starting to move to pull his swim suit down, I didn't move at all.
It took some more encouragement before either one of us pulled our suits
down. It was when the big man motioned for the other man and Anton to go
help us lose our suits.  Trip let his suit fall to ankles, mine were only
pulled down just below my balls.  My dick was limp and I was shaking.  I was
standing just behind Trip, using him as a shield of protection.  A few more
directions were given and Anton's dick came out, as hard as it had ever
been.  Then the big man reached into his pants and fished around for a
while.  Then he brought out a big black and pink boner.  It was modeled and
looked like the coat of a Paint horse.  It almost looked like he had been
stroking it so long that some of the black skin had been worn away.

"Let's see da pretty white boys make some spunk."  The big man ordered.  "Do
some rubbing of dose pink dickies!"

Trip started stroking as well as Anton.  The big man was slowly rubbing his
dick.  I held on to my limp dick and just stared at them.  The big man
looked at me and growled for me to get going.  I started stroking and
thinking that I was going to die right then because I just couldn't get
hard.  I tried closing my eyes, or looking at Trip's dick but I still didn't
get hard.  Trip started to shoot and then Anton followed.  All eyes were on
me as they pulled up their shorts.  Thankfully, blood finally started to
fill my boner.  I had become really good at jerking fast and I was employing
that.  It wasn't long after I got hard that I was shooting.

The big man was still slowly stroking his bi-colored dick.  He asked us how
much money we had.  We had to turn over everything we had, which Trip told
me was about $3 American.  He thought our t-shirts were better off with
Anton and Shorty.  We left there with swim suits and flip flops.  We made it
back to the villa and spent the rest of the day behind the safety of the
walls. That was the last day we spent at that lonely end of the beach.  We
did get over it, at least as far as we acted towards each other.  We were
laughing by the end of the day.

I know his family enjoyed having Trip and I hanging with them on the beach
and at lunch.  It felt good to have clothes on.  It took a few days for us
to recover.  It wasn't like anything too bad had happened.  We did see Anton
and Shorty walk by with their wares, just a nod of the head was all the
acknowledgement.

Then one morning, Trip's parents wanted to drive down to the big city to do
some shopping.  Phillipsburg had many shops even back then and the deals
were really great compared to the States.  It just didn't offer much to a
couple of teenaged boys.  We didn't stay on the beach but went up to the
villa.  I stepped into the shower as soon as the family walked out the door.
  As soon as I had a head full of shampoo, I felt the warmth of a body join
me in the shower.  The shower was not much more than three walls of
cinderblock  and big enough for a family.  He didn't have to get so close
that I felt his chest on my back or his boner on my butt.  After I jumped, I
tried to act like it was no big deal.

Before the suds were out of my hair, I had boned up.  I turned and faced
Trip as I opened my eyes.  Our boners knocked into each other's and we
rocked back and forth and made the most of the contact.  We giggled and
laughed as the sword play continued.  There was a bar of regular soap and a
bar of his mother's Dove soap.  Each of us started to soap the other one up.
  My hands went all over his body.  The dark tanned body felt so good all
wet and soapy.  My hands just brushed over his butt cheeks until his hands
paid more attention to mine.  My hands grabbed and squeezed his butt, we
were pulled into each other.  Trip's hands started to explore my butt crack
and soaped up my hole.  I had to do the same to him.  He turned me around,
put his head on my shoulder, I felt his boner snuggle up against my butt and
then he wrapped an arm around me and started soaping up my pubic hair.

Little by little and teasing all along, Trip started to play with my dick.
He soaped it up until he dropped the soap.  Then he tickled the head of my
dick with his finger.  He tapped all his fingers underneath my dick.  He
held my balls and played with them and then finally started stroking my
dick.  He would go fast, then slow, short little strokes and long full
strokes.  His left hand held on to my balls.  My hands reached back and
grabbed his skinny butt cheeks.  When I was getting close to shooting, my
hands squeezed his butt hard.  Then Trip pulled my balls down, gently, but
it was enough to keep me from shooting.  I would remember that trick.  It
wasn't long after that when I did shoot cum on the shower floor.  Trip kept
playing with my very sensitive dick until I turned to face him, more so that
he couldn't touch my dick.  His dick pushed into my belly and bent over.

As I was recovering, Trip continued to pull on my butt cheeks and even let
his finger play on my hole.  I did recover pretty quick.  I don't think I
ever went limp.  I had to return the favor.  The Dove soap made for a soft
pile of suds the completely engulf his dick and balls.  I mixed stroking his
dick with washing and playing with his balls and pubic hair.  As the water
washed away the suds, I was pulling on his squeaky clean dick.  I wanted to
treat him as he did me by getting him to the edge and then pulling his
balls.  I just went a little too far and he was shooting as soon as I took
my hand off his dick.  I watched as he shot 5 or 6 times without a hand on
his dick.

We didn't bother with towels.  We stepped out of the shower and few steps we
were out on the patio.  The sun was drying us and there was a sting on our
skin.  It was a while before we really started talking.  Then we talked
about being forced to jerk off by the big man and then about a whole lot
more pleasurable times we had.  We walked into our bedroom and laid down on
the bed.  The breeze was just perfect, it let us stay naked on top of the
bed and waft over us.  For at least an hour, we just laid on the bed and
talked.  Our hands explored each other and we talked about all sorts of
things.

Without the heat of passion, it was a wonderful time to feel and explore
Trip's body.  His skin was warm and soft, it felt fragile.  His pubic hair
was coarse yet soft and it didn't quite quit at the triangle about his dick.
  His belly was covered in a soft blonde fuzz that I could tug at with my
fingers more than see.  I was surprised at how heavy his dick was.  It was
really about the same size as mine, about 3 and a half inches when limp, and
it did look an awful lot like mine.  When I lifted it off his leg, it felt
heavy and when I dropped it, it landed with a heavy splat.  I enjoyed the
feel of his limp dick and I was worried that I would play with it too much
and get him hard again.  I sure didn't mind him hard but I wasn't sure how
much I could ever play with a limp dick.

His balls amazed me.  His sack was thin and loose.  I lifted and rolled each
of his balls in my hand.  I could feel the tubes attached and running into
his body.  I felt the sparse long pubic hairs on his sack.  With my hand
full of his balls, I had an image of him walking around with his dick and
balls all stuffed away in his underwear and jeans.  Many times after that, I
would see him walk and imagine how his balls were hanging.  And I loved how
his balls filled my entire hand.

Trip was exploring my body as well.  He was touching me as long as his reach
would allow.  He would also tickly the head of my dick, or tug at my balls,
or do something as I was talking and completely destroy my concentration.
While I was worried about getting Trip hard, I had no control over myself.
I was able to ignore my own boner for a little bit until Trip slid down the
bed.

It was the end of the conversation when his lips slipped over the head of my
dick.  That warmth and wetness almost melted me on the spot.  I could hear
my heartbeat pounding in my ears.  I rolled on my back and spread my legs to
give Trip as much access to me.  His tongue and teeth massaged every inch of
my dick before he started bobbing his head up and down.  A hand grabbed my
balls and massaged those.  It seemed like every time I adjusted to how he
was treating me, he would change the stroke, the pattern, the pressure, or
something that had me writhing on the bed.  It may have been the first time
that it wasn't about shooting cum but more about the way it felt.  I spread
my legs as far as I could, I lifted my butt off the bed to get as much of me
involved as I could.

I was barely able to breathe.  I was barely able to control any part of my
body.  Then Trip slid up beside me.  We tangled our bodies completely and
our mouths met.  Our tongues went deep inside the other's mouth.  Lips were
mashed together.  Tongues twisted around.  Teeth knocked together.  Cheeks
and noses just seemed to fit so right.  I pulled Trip so tight that I wanted
us to merge, to become one.  I was so very aware of hard and pointed
nipples, hard wet boners, quivering thighs, and pounding hearts.  Trip did
break the magic of the moment when he took a breath and said that I was
tasting my own dick in his mouth.

That was my opportunity.  I immediately slid down his body.  My mouth first
was filled with nothing but pubic hair.  Then quickly went to his dick.  I
didn't mess with teasing going down on it, I swallowed his entire dick.  He
rose off the bed, almost like magic.  His head and toes were the only
touching the bed and he was making a noise that was almost nonhuman, it
certainly was a pitch that was so high as to be prepubescent.

I tasted a sweetness, and a brininess.  There was musk, definitely musk.
But it was more than the taste and more than the feel of the soft warm skin
over a rock hard shaft.  It was a giving, something about being able to suck
Trip's dick that was so special.  It was a letting go of taboos and crossing
the lines of our social groups to be a part of something special.  At first,
it was special that I could give myself that way to Trip.  Then it wasn't
long after that when I realized that I had the power.  I wasn't giving up
stature and becoming a dick sucker, I had the ability to make Trip feel
wonderful.  He was in ecstasy.  Each flip of my tongue, each sucking of my
cheeks, each pull of my head brought Trip even more pleasure.  The power to
manipulate Trip soon became the ability and the gift of being able to feel
so much pleasure.

Trip began warning me that he was about to shoot.  His words were barely
recognizable but I had no doubt what he was saying.  I didn't want to stop
the pleasure he was feeling.  I wanted so much to make him cum.  I didn't
care if he shot cum in my mouth.  Trip was holding off shooting until he
could pull my hair and get my head off his dick.  I was right in front of
his dick and I saw each and every rope shoot right out of his dick.  It
looked unreal.  I saw the hole open and then followed by the white cum, and
repeat another 5 times.

We collapsed on the bed.  I was still hard and horny.  My hips were rocking
back and forth and rubbing my dick against Trip's thighs.  Trip's hand began
to stroke my dick.  He was breathing hard and trying to recover from
shooting.  He could have easily made me cum just by stroking me but he
twisted around and sucked my dick into his mouth.  I was getting close to
shooting when Trip started to nibble on the skin right under the tip of my
dick.  I had no control of my muscles or my voice.  I let out a growl and
with Trip's hand replacing his mouth I started shooting.  It felt like my
entire body was helping with each shot.  I was out of cum but still trying
to shoot.  I must have had ten dry shots.

We collapsed.  We laughed and purred and snuggled.   It was in the heat of
the day and we were dripping with sweat.  The warm breeze felt so good as it
passed over our naked bodies.  He head was on his chest and I could hear the
pounding of his heart.  We fell asleep, entangled and naked and covered in
cum.  We didn't move until we heard his mother yelling at us to come help
carry in bags from the car.   I felt weak yet so fulfilled for the rest of
the day.

Thanks for reading, and hopefully you enjoyed it.
argosylight@hotmail.com
Kenny