Date: Wed, 23 Jun 1999 23:33:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Danny Sawyer <thisisjustatest1@yahoo.com>
Subject: David and Stephen

This writing comes from my own experiences.  I've asked David's permission
to use his name and our adventures together, which he graciously gave.  If
the names or events are similar to anyone else's, it is purely coincidence.
I ask that you not give this information to those who should not see it,
mainly those underage and those who do not wish to read about romantic
sexual encounters between minors, those of the same sex, or a combination
of the aforementioned.  If you yourself do not wish to read such materials,
I ask that you do not read this story.  If you should not be reading this
material, either because it is illegal for you to do so or you live in a
community in which a story such as this would be harmful to the quality of
life I ask that you please do not read it.  Please use common sense and
common courtesy.  Please only distribute this entire work unedited with the
disclaimer and my name and any other comments I've made.

Please enjoy.  As this is my first work, I would appreciate any comments
you might have.  I can be reached at


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David had been the envy of all the girls (and I think a few more boys than
would admit) since I first knew him in the 7th grade.  He had wavy blonde
hair that was starting to darken, kept blonde only by the bleaching of the
sun in his endless hours outdoors.  He was gifted with bright blue eyes the
same color of the ocean which he bodyboarded in, and his dark tan body
betrayed him every time he told a teacher that he hadn't skipped class to
go bodyboard.  His chest was well developed from his numerous swims out to
the waves, but more impressive were his shoulders and back. He had
beautiful shoulders, the kind that seemed they were strong enough to sprout
wings, and his angelic features made the idea all the more plausible.
Quick to smile and always ready to laugh, his likeability was matched only
by his eagerness for life.  The parents who created this child but raised
him well enough to avoid narcissism should have treasures thrown at their
feet.  David's feet should be saved for posterity.  His five toes of each
foot were perfectly straight, not too fat at the tips nor to skinny at the
base, they are perfection personified (much like the rest of David)...

I still remember when I used to go surfing near the pier and David rode in
to meet me and point out the best places to surf.  His pre-pubescent arm
raised in greeting, water still dripping off his sculpted body, muscles
tightening and relaxing as he ran up to talk to me and toes gripping the
sand is a memory I'll cherish forever.  When I describe myself David tells
me I'm too hard on myself.  Perhaps I am, but only because I compare myself
to others around me, and I've been blessed to be around very good-looking
men.  I've always been taller than many people, even when I was younger,
but unlike David's gift of height which made him more attractive, I've
always felt that my 'blessing' of height was a little overboard, but David
disagrees.  Since I surf I had a well-developed body, but where David has
almost no body fat I do.  Not enough to move out of the "low" range, but
enough to cover up a little the blessings of surfing everyday that can be
so readily noticed on David.  I too had blonde hair and blue eyes, but my
hair was straight, and my eyes were headed more towards the gray end of
blue.  I think my legs were better than David's, but I like his feet
better, because my 'pinkie' toes curved slightly, and I always thought the
end of my big toe was too fat.  David says he loves my feet the most,
but...  I was never as popular as David, but I had plenty of friends, never
lacking for a party to go to nor a girlfriend to date.  I guess I was
always second best (which isn't a complaint, because I'd have been last for
David, but just to let you know how things were while we were growing up
together)...

Middle-school years consisted mainly of school (forced) and
surfing/bodyboarding.  We shared the same teachers at the same time in 7th
and 8th grade, and usually managed to sit together.  The teachers liked us
both, and so we managed to get away with more than the other students.  If
we missed a day of school because the waves were at 9 feet, we (mostly
David, I was 'o.k.' enough to go along for the ride) could convince our
teachers, or if need be our principal, to let us slide and not tell our
parents we walked to the beach instead of school...

I realize now I had been attracted to guys as early as 5th grade, although
I didn't realize I was interested nor what it meant until about 7th grade.
I had also been a masochist since about the beginning of 6th grade.  I
think now in retrospect it came from my feelings of inferiority (or my
competitive side) and I had to prove (in my imagination) that I could take
more pain than anyone else.  My first ejaculation occurred from pain
sensations, although it's a bit harder to ejaculate solely from pain now...

We had a roll-away that I slept on for quite some time, and like most
roll-away beds it had two legs that came down and connected to support it
while it was down.  I figured out that I could place that bar on my stomach
and it would cause pain, and I could pull down a tad and it would cause
more.  I was fantasizing that I was in a competition that was won by the
person who lasted the longest.  As competitor after competitor dropped out,
the bar was pushed harder and harder.  The pain increased, and my legs
started to tingle, getting less blood than usual.  I could feel the blood
pounding in my head, but couldn't give up.  And then I came into my pants,
but at that time I was too naive to even know what had happened.  I cleaned
my shorts, but from then on I wrapped my penis in toilet paper, so as not
to soil my pants...

So I was glad David and I were friends, and looked forward to seeing him
every day.  My favorite class with him had to have been history, because in
that class I sat directly behind him.....

I leaned forward to smell the back of his neck, but had to breathe in his
smell slowly so that he'd not become aware of me.  I looked at the back of
his neck, wishing I could caress it and rub it for all eternity.  Then I
leaned back, and hoped that today again his shorts would be a little too
low, and I would be able to see the outline of his buttocks through his
boxers, like what had happened yesterday.  I looked around the room to make
sure none were watching me, and slowly reached my hand down to squeeze my
hardening penis.  Today he was not wearing boxers, but a jock!!!  I could
see the skin of some his bottom, so smooth.  His shorts were almost an inch
below his crack.  I thought about dropping a pencil down the space created,
but then he'd know I was looking.  Just then he adjusted in his seat,
pulling his pants up, and I was left with only the memory and a hardon.

That night after we were surfing and I had gone home I went to my dressers
and removed a pair of underwear I had kept that were a little too small.  I
then proceeded to the closet and removed a hanger (one that holds pants)
and tightened the clamps on the very tip of my nipples.  The pain made my
penis quickly harden, but the too-tight underwear kept my penis
uncomfortably small, which made my penis even harder.  I quickly ran into
the bathroom and locked the door behind me.  I tried to not touch my penis
for as long as I could, and my arms were starting to tighten from the pain
coursing through my nipples, chest, and arms.  Finally I reached into my
underwear and pulled out my dick and balls.  I then pulled enough of my
hairless scrotum back below the elastic strap to cause my balls to be
squeezed with every stroke my fingers made down my penis.  The pain started
to numb in my nipples by this point, so I shook the hanger, re-igniting the
pain.  I then started to stroke my penis slowly, wishing David was there to
help.  The thought of his fingers delicately (or not so delicately)
caressing my penis became more than I could contain.  This desire, along
with the insane pain in my balls (from stroking harder and faster) and
nipples was more than I could bear.  I quickly leaned back in order to take
the cum on my chest and abdominal muscles.  My head tossed back in
exhaustion, I quickly pulled the hanger off my nipples, sending another
wave of intense pain through my entire body, causing my penis to squirt
some more juice onto my abs and into the hair at the base of my penis.

I leaned back and allowed my body to recover somewhat.  Gravity had pulled
most of the cum into rivulets along the depressions of my chest and abs,
and I ran a finger along my body from my navel to my chest several times,
wishing that it was David and not me.  Each time I placed whatever cum had
collected on my finger into my mouth and swished it around.  After I
"licked" myself clean in this manner, I traveled on my knees over to the
toilet because I needed to pee.  I collected some of the pee in my cupped
hands and added it to the collection in my mouth.  I swished this wonderful
concoction around my mouth and swallowed it.  Unfortunately, since the
ejaculation from ripping the clamps off my nipples was not as strong, some
of the cum had fallen into the pubic hair surrounding my penis.  I knew
from previous experience that this cum was especially difficult to remove.
I decided just to shave off my hair in order to avoid this problem in the
future.  I had 'shaved' my face before, so I knew the basic principal, and
began the process.

I wet the area I intended to shave.  After lathering up I realized I needed
a razor.  "Damn, this would be harder than I thought," I complained to
myself.  I rinsed myself, and put on the too-tight underwear and my
boardshorts.  I went to the hallway closet and pulled out a razor, just as
my mother walked by.

"What do you need a razor for, Steven?" she asked, probably noticing that
my face looked like one caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  I quickly
moved my hand to scratch the skin near my nipple, holding my arm and hand
in such a way as to cover up much of the red of each nipple and the
surrounding area.  "Damn," I thought to myself.

"I need to shave," I said as I turned around, not lying.  Mother chuckled
to herself, and said it was o.k., but to be careful.

"You don't want to nick yourself, it might hurt a tad," she said.

"There's and understatement," I mused to myself.  I went back in the
bathroom and locked the door.  I re-wet the needed area, and re-lathered
up.  I removed the plastic safety on the blade, and set to work.  I soon
realized I had to make short strokes, because the blade quickly filled with
hair on each swipe.  It went by rather quickly, but unfortunately I had one
nick, which I Band-Aid-ed.  That was quite uncomfortable, not only the cut
but the stickiness was bad, too.  I must have also given myself mild razor
burn, because my groin area felt like it was on fire about an hour after I
shaved.  This sucked, because it made my penis hard and yet it hurt too
much to jack off.  But in the end I had to jack off anyway, and I cried
myself to sleep because the masturbation served mainly to aggravate the
soreness to an unbearable extent.