Date: Sun, 21 Sep 2008 09:54:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: d ap <dap_cl@yahoo.com>
Subject: Four Friends

Four Friends -- Chapter One: September 17-18, 2007

By Doc

This is a work of fiction, and is entirely drawn from my imagination.  It
deals with sexual relationships between young boys.

I started this tale just one year ago.  Formerly this tale was written in
Spanish as spoken in Chile.  You'll soon realize my English is very bad, if
you are a purist of English language, you'll be disappointed.  So I
recommend you to leave now.  Knowing that situation I asked JJ
(jjjanicki@gmail.com, see "Justin" in Youth Friends in Nifty Archives) and
he recommended me to write to David Clarke (gothmog@mail.anonymizer.com,
see The Jeremy Fielding Collection in the same section); David, using his
time, accepted to enhance my English, and his task was hard; the results
are really great, I many thanks to these kind persons).  So far, David
translated into readable English two chapters, and with the third, this
story can be finished, although it has more than 400 pages.  If you want to
continue read the tale, you should accept bad English.

Some other words.  The characters in this story do not use condoms, but of
course this is fiction; in real life you should always take precautions.
Some of the characters also smoke marijuana, which again is not really
recommended.  If you do not enjoy this sort of story, or if it is illegal
where you are, then please stop now.  Otherwise, enjoy!

Part One: Introduction.

"See you later, Marcelo.  Be careful, and we'll be back on Wednesday
evening," said my mother, just before she left to go to `the Beach', a
dull-as-ditchwater little town in central Chile.

I was torn between happiness and anxiety at being home on my own.  I mean,
it wasn't actually the first time, so I knew what to do and where to get
food, and if all else failed I could always phone out for a pizza or some
other crap that could be delivered for me to eat at home.

So, my folks had gone.  Great.

The whole town was celebrating: this year: the national holiday of Chile
seemed to be going on for a very long time.  So I decided that I was going
to do something, too -- more than just my homework, I mean.

I did my math, finished off a drawing project, and then... then I was done.
So I decided to take a shower; but first it was time for a cigarette -- or
something closer to a cigar, to be exact.  I stood on a chair and got down
my package (the one that held my grass), rolled myself a huge joint , lit
up and inhaled deeply.  And in a matter of moments I was starting to feel
strange, detached -- but wonderful -- feelings...

I went into the bathroom and removed my beach shorts and my top (which was
a tee shirt) and dived into the hot water.  September is the start of
spring in Santiago, but you still need to keep warm.  The water ran over my
body, feeling silky; the foam from the shampoo, and its scent, seemed to
take me outside myself... the touch of the soap, then the water once more,
it all felt unreal... the feeling of my hands touching my body felt
incredibly sensual, so much so that I could not bear it: it seemed to be
happening without my control.  I barely resisted the urge to masturbate.

I got out of the shower.  The steam was making strange, distorted images in
the mirrors which covered the walls of what we called our Hall of Mirrors,
(which was our name for our bathroom): all four walls were covered in
mirrors seven millimetres thick, which allowed you to examine yourself
happily from every angle.  I guess they were really for my mother's
benefit...

I looked at myself in the steamed-up glass.  Fourteen years old (well,
thirteen and a half, really), wet, below-shoulder-length hair, (darker than
usual because it was still wet), a thin but not too skinny body (people in
my family were often skinny, but NEVER fat), adolescent hips... and, of
course, my bubble butt. Each cheek was plump and almost perfectly curved.
I knew that girls found it attractive, and so did boys and men -- from the
age of ten up to over seventy.  My sister, my mother and even my father had
all given it a little pinch from time to time, saying they were convinced
that my ass had been formed by angels.  Between my legs, my penis was a
mere four centimetres long when soft, but when stiff rose to a good
fourteen centimetres long (one for every year of my life, I told myself) by
three centimetres across (and, yes, I measured it regularly).  I was
circumcised: my foreskin had been too tight when I was a child, and so my
parents had had it removed, leaving it looking like a small, skinless
cucumber.

I began to dry myself.  Without being narcissistic about it, I think I'm a
good-looking boy: I got on well with girls, and at parties some of them
often came on to me.  But... somehow it never quite worked for me.  Yes, I
found them enchanting; there weren't all that many, but enough, I suppose:
Antonia, Daniela, Maria Elena, Claudia, Flor, Javiera... I'd touched them
and been touched by them all, because adolescent sex play is common in
twenty-first century Chile.  They had sucked me and I had licked them,
smooth twats and hairy ones, breast, nipples...

Each touch of the towel on my body, as I thought about this, made my
breathing more and more ragged...and from out of the throng of people I was
thinking about, there arose Francisco Javier -- beautiful, cute, and
fifteen years old.  There had been a party one Saturday night: both of us
were drunk and drugged up.  Paco (we called him Paco because his parents
were Spanish) touched my ass, and the electrifying sensation amazed me;
and, under the influence of alcohol and drugs I made no objection.  At
first I suppose I was a little reluctant, but soon I began to enjoy it more
and more...He took me in his arms and with no hesitation he planted his
lips on mine.  His lips felt really good... at first he kept them closed,
but soon he opened them, allowing his tongue to snake out into my mouth and
to begin moving against my own.  I kept my eyes open, but I couldn't help
responding to him.  Our kiss went on for ever, leaving me breathless, but
all the same I held on to him, pulling him into an even tighter embrace.
My erection came into contact with his and we began to move against each
other.

"You are such a queer, Paco," I said, between reproaches which were
patently insincere.

"Dude, you have such an irresistible ass," he replied.

"Mmmmmhhh," I replied, and suddenly we were on the kitchen floor, and he
was running his hands all over me, down my back, round my waist and then
under my clothes as far as my boxers.  My belt got in his way, and then...

Then the adventure came to an abrupt end, because his father yelled
downstairs, "Paco, what's going on, it's three o'clock in the morning!"

We heard him coming down the stairs, so we quickly got our clothes back
into a presentable state.  My penis was rock-hard and seeping, but I
stuffed it into my trousers as best I could, and Paco did the same, his
face turning pale.

"Come on, it's late -- and it looks to me as if you've both had too much to
drink, too..." Paco's dad had a strong Spanish accent.

"Goodnight, Don Paco," I said as Paco's dad dropped me off at my house at
four in the morning.  Obviously my family were all asleep, so I went
straight to my room without even bothering to brush my teeth.  I got into
bed, my mind ablaze with pictures, feelings and desires... In less than a
minute the hardness between my legs was back: I could still feel Paco's
kiss burning on my lips, and the warmth of his hands as they had caressed
my body, my shoulders, my chest, my back...and then his hands had gone
inside my trousers and he had touched my ass, although my boxers had still
been between his hands and my bare skin...

I could resist no longer: I took hold of myself and began to beat off,
mercilessly, the images still burning on my retinas and the phantom
sensations still caressing my skin. I couldn't control it, nor did I want
to: this was already the most phenomenal and overwhelming jerk-off I had
ever had since I first started doing it about three years ago.  I could
still feel Paco's lips against mine, and those few seconds when his tongue
had been pressing against mine were more vivid in my mind than any fantasy
I had ever been able to conjure up before.

An amazing orgasm shook me to my core -
fffffffffffssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh ...aaaaa!!!!  I moaned like an animal
as my body shook as if electrified and then arched right up, only my head
and heels still in contact with the bed.  The first spurt went so far that
it landed in my hair, the second and third hit my face -- and that third
one landed in my mouth, too -- and the rest landed on my chest, and my
stomach; and finally dripped down into my thin pubic hair.

Slowly my body relaxed and settled back onto the bed, exhausted.  Part of
what I had produced was on my lips, and I was still sufficiently lustful
that I opened my mouth and licked it in, that strange, semi-thick liquid,
which tasted neither salty, nor sweet, nor bitter...if anything, it
reminded me of the taste of a still-green persimmon.  But it fed the flames
of the one image that has dominated my imagination ever since I began my
bouts of solitary but feverish masturbation: how would it feel to suck a
dick?  It was hard to cope with that thought, but I was simply unable to
stop thinking about it: it was a deep-seated, secret longing.

So I was, in the strange language psychologists use, "hetero curious".

*************************

And the problem with this was that when I looked at girls I was only
looking at their cute asses: I was uninterested in their pussies.  It was
boys who were more likely to attract my attention, not only their asses but
also their packets, and I found it fascinating -- especially when they wore
tight trousers, which made it easier for me to imagine whether each boy's
tool would be fat, or with a large head, or curved when it got hard.

I got on my motorbike and put on the helmet, making sure that my face was
hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses as well as the helmet's visor --
anything to keep the cops from seeing me clearly: fourteen-year-olds --
okay, thirteen and a half-year-olds -- are not allowed to ride motorbikes.
I stuck a couple of joints in my pocket and rode away from the house.

I rode down Costanera Norte, Forestal Park, San Martín St, St Ignacio St,
10 de Julio St, and Matta Avenue, until I finally reached O'Higgins Park.
There are places in the park where you can buy alcohol and dance, and so
on, and these are called `ramadas', because they are constructed using
branches from eucalyptus trees.  I chained up the bike and went for a
stroll -- or, if you prefer, I went talent-spotting, looking to see what
sort of people were around the place.  Good-looking ones, for preference.
There were plenty of people around: most were modest in dress and
behaviour, but there were also a number of lolos and lolas (so called
because of Nabokov's novel `Lolita').  I felt like a hunter surrounded by
prey, though it was a very varied prey and I was by no means an expert
hunter: I didn't even know what I was looking for, exactly, so I looked at
girls' asses and tits and pussies (though those were usually hidden, of
course).  But I also checked out male asses -- and packets, obviously --
enjoying the variations in size and so on.  Mostly I checked out boys of my
own age, but even old men in their twenties looked cool.

Of course, checking out all this talent soon had the inevitable effect and
I started to get hard, and pretty soon it was so solid that I had to zip up
my parka to hide it.  But that didn't stop me fantasising more and more and
getting increasingly worked up into a sweat.

I watched a very pretty girl who was obviously older than me.  She saw me
looking at her and walked up to me, ruffled my hair and said, "You're a
cute little puppy, aren't you?  But you're far too young to be out here in
the big, bad world.  Go home and drink some milk."

The humiliation I felt made me blush like a tomato.  I mumbled something
like, "sorry" and crept away, wishing the earth would swallow me up.

It took me at least ten minutes to recover from that.  I went on further
into the park, which was full of people, and eventually I reached the
Ellipse, where literally hundreds of kids my age were flying kites.  Seeing
them enjoying themselves like that completed my recovery and I started
eyeing them up.  I was feeling aroused again, and so I started looking at
them boldly, the way some of the girls had looked at me at parties.  This
seemed to work pretty well: some of them became aware of my scrutiny and it
distracted them enough that they lost control of their kites.  When they
looked at me I simply stared at them until they looked away, ashamed -- or
at least, that's what I told myself they were feeling.

I had one unpleasant experience, though: there was one guy there of around
twenty -- much the best looking guy there! -- who was flying a crappy kite.
I watched him without trying to pretend not to, and the bastard turned to
me and said "Fag!"  It really got to me, though I just frowned, pretended I
hadn't been interested and just kept walking.  After that I decided to
stick to looking at boys of my own age.

The boys seemed receptive to my flirting, which I did in such a blatant way
that it was obvious what I was doing, while still holding back enough that
I could back off if it became clear that they weren't interested.  Each one
I looked at seemed even more delicious than the one before, and because
they were concentrating on their kites I was able to check out their asses
unobserved, while from the other side I could see their faces -- and, of
course, their dicks and balls.  And looking at them didn't make me even
remotely ashamed -- in fact, it just made me more and more horny.

And one of them caught and held my eye...

His gaze was so intense that it completely threw me: my stupid flirting
smile disappeared from my stupid flirting face like the fog blown away by
the wind.  We looked into each other's eyes and a whole world of secrets
travelled between us.  It was too much for me and I lowered my eyes, but I
couldn't keep them off him and I looked into his face again, unable to
resist.  And he was still there -- it wasn't a mirage.

He was about my size, blond, with his hair arranged in complicated braids
that ran right down to his neck.  He had a clear complexion, strange,
slightly slanted -- but in no way oriental-looking -- green eyes that were
totally captivating, a sharp, finely-moulded chin, fairly narrow shoulders,
his chest covered by a tee-shirt which nevertheless showed that he was thin
but nicely-formed... He had narrow hips, and trousers that showed a
fair-sized bulge between his legs.  Thin arms and thin hands that were now
hanging loose at his sides.  He could tell that I was staring at him in
fascination, and suddenly I felt ashamed; I lowered my eyes and walked away
without looking back.

I felt completely frustrated: until now I'd been eyeing up the talent
boldly, but suddenly I had come across the most beautiful thing I'd seen in
years -- and it had overwhelmed me.  I found an empty bench near the
lagoon, sat down and lit a cigarette.  The noise of the park faded away,
and the only thing still in my mind was the mind-blowingly beautiful vision
of the boy with the braids...

Smoke trickled from my mouth, and I became aware of a voice in my ear:
"Hey, man -- can I have a cigarette?"

I turned to see who it was, and felt paralysed: it was him!  Oh, God... he
had followed me!  And now here he was, asking for a smoke...

"Huh?  Er... yes, go on, help yourself," I said, fumbling the packet from
my pocket and passing it and my lighter to him.

"Where do you live?  In the city, I mean," he asked, sounding a little
unsure of himself.  He lit his cigarette, coughing a little as he inhaled.

"I'm from Recoleta."  I was lying: I'm actually from La Dehesa, which is
about the poshest and richest areas in the whole of Chile.  "What about
you?"

"Not far, on the junction of San Diego Street and Tarapacá," he said, and I
believed him.  "I'm Camilo," he added, offering me his hand.

"Marcelo," I replied, taking and shaking it, feeling a warm glow as I held
his hand and barely able to suppress a growing flush.

"How old are you?" he asked, taking another drag and coughing again,
showing that he hadn't done much smoking before.

"Fourteen.  Well... actually I'm thirteen, but I'll soon be fourteen," I
told him, looking into those strange, beautiful eyes and feeling almost
hypnotised by them.  The six months that I was still short of my fourteenth
birthday suddenly seemed completely irrelevant.

"Wow, I'm thirteen, too!  Gimme five!" he said, offering me his hand again
-- and this time I could see that he was affected by the contact between
us: he quivered a little as our hands met.  It wasn't a huge reaction, but
it was definitely there.

"I'm in the eighth grade at Manuel Barros-Borgoño," he said, and that was
me well and truly in the shit, because I couldn't answer him: I knew
nothing about this part of Santiago and so couldn't possibly know which
schools were near to where I was supposed to be living.

I looked at him and decided to tell him the truth.

"I'm at the Eagle's Nest," I told him.  The fees for that school are about
a quarter of a million Chilean pesos a month.  "And I don't live in
Recoleta, either: we've got a place in La Dehesa."  I hadn't intended
telling him that, but it sort of slipped out.

"So, you're a rich kid," he said.  "What are you doing round here, then?"

Again I decided to be sincere.  "Looking for talent," I admitted.

"Ah," he said.

We finished our cigarettes and I couldn't think of anything to say to him
at all -- not one damned word.  So instead I said, "Do you fancy a joint?"
And his eyes lit up.

We stood up, and my inner pervert took control once more, so I pushed my
parka out of the way by sticking my hands in my pockets, knowing that this
left my ass exposed, and then I set off ahead of him so that he could look
at it as much as he wanted.

We walked until we reached the fence that surrounds the park, checked that
nobody could see us and lit up the two large joints I had made before
leaving the house.  I inhaled deeply, and so did Camilo, and pretty soon
the drug was affecting us both.  My body trembled as he watched me,
betraying that I was becoming lost in the drug... we sat on the grass and
stared at each other, lost in each other's eyes, the rest of the universe
having faded into insignificance.  I couldn't resist the impulse to reach
out and touch his beautiful face with my forefinger, and I started to
caress it -- first the small nose, then the perfect eyebrows, and finally
his mouth, that set of lips that was driving me crazy... and then the
bloody kid did something I could never have imagined, something that was
way beyond anything I had expected: he parted his lips and sucked my finger
into his mouth.

I thought nothing could have made my dick harder than it already was, but
I'd been wrong, because this did the trick straight away.  And as if that
wasn't enough, Camilo then did something totally irresistible: he reached
out and laid a finger on my lips.  Naturally I opened my mouth and let it
slide inside, licking it.

And there we were, sucking each other's fingers.  It was the most erotic
thing I had ever done, even putting times when I had sucked girls' nipples
in the shade.  This one finger was way better than that.  And then Camilo
took an initiative which I was far too cowardly to take: he pulled his
finger out of my mouth, gently drew mine out of his, and then slowly moved
his face towards mine.  It was obvious that I wanted to kiss him, and that
he wanted to kiss me... so we kissed...

Our lips joined.  There was nothing else: all that existed was him and me,
our mouths glued together, the sensation huge and totally overwhelming.  I
opened my mouth, and in the same way that a weakened dam gives way under
the weight of water, here it was a torrent of sensations that was driving
me, and they were equally unstoppable.  Camilo understood and opened his
own mouth, his tongue touching mine -- and the dam broke and the sensations
overwhelmed me -- and Camilo, too, whose response was the same as mine:
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhh, ffffmmmmmhhhhh!"  My penis throbbed
uncontrollably, and I'm sure the same thing was happening to him.  Finally
I had found my prey and it was caught in my claws... just as I was caught
in his.

It grew dark.  Actually we didn't care about that, but we both realised
that it would be better if nobody saw us.  I wanted to believe...

***

The wind blew through my hair as I rode back along Apoquindo Avenue.
Camilo was wearing my helmet, clinging onto my hips as he rode pressed
against me.  He was both scared and excited, so I did my best to shorten
the journey between O'Higgins Park and La Dehesa by speeding all the way.

It took us thirty-five minutes to get there.  I opened the outer gate and
watched Camilo's face, which grew more and more astonished as he took in
the size of the property -- which belonged to the General Manager of the
largest telephone company in South America, so it was... well, big.  It had
three floors (or `storeys', as my Mom called them) and it was clad in pink
stone brought all the way from the Maipo River basin; it had a huge
swimming pool, eighteen meters long by four wide; and it had a massive,
50,000 square meter garden.

Two Rottweilers, each weighing about 120 pounds, came to meet Camilo, who
was clearly scared of them, but both dogs planted their paws on his chest
and started licking his face, and pretty soon they were leaping around him
like puppies.  As guardians the dogs were hopeless: they looked
intimidating enough, but they were like spring lambs.

There were four Audis in the garage, one of which was a two-seater
coupe. In short, this was the house of a fabulously wealthy family, one of
the richest in the whole country.  Yes, my family was rolling in it, and we
had the tastes -- and the vices -- of the very rich.

Because of the joints we'd smoked in the park our movements were a little
uncoordinated, but we made it as far as the kitchen, made ourselves a
couple of sandwiches, opened a couple of beers and then made our way
through the house.  The only room I was not allowed in was my father's
study, though I was allowed in my mother's: she was a professor at SEK
University, teaching languages or sociology or astronomy or cellular
biology or maybe even the black arts -- whatever the hell it was, it made
no difference to me.  Or to her, either, probably: basically she was an
ultra-rich Chilean kid, who had learned her English at Oxford and Berkeley,
and who had got her job because of her social standing and connections.

We reached my room and Camilo stared in fascination at my eighty-inch flat
screen TV, the computer I used to surf the net, my games console and
various other electronic toys that were in the room.

But I hadn't brought him here to show off my wealth or my toys: I just
wanted his little tongue in my mouth once more.  I stepped up to him and
embraced him.  Where were his lips?  I needed them so much... ah, there
they were... my tongue pushed its way between them, and -- at last -- I
FOUND it.  I held him tight, feeling that I needed him as much as I needed
oxygen -- I just had to have that tongue against mine... my whole life had
been leading to this moment...

"What kept you?" he murmured reproachfully as I moved against him.

His ass... yes, that's what I wanted to investigate, and he didn't seem to
have any problem with that, either.  My hands roamed over those perfect
buttocks, sliding across them and teasing at what lay between them -- and
then he joined in, his hands dropping to my ass -- and I was sure that
nothing in the world could feel as good as Camilo's hands on my butt.

His finger roamed over the cleft between my buttocks and then found and
pressed against my anus, and that felt amazing -- so I did the same thing,
probing for and finding his weak point and then pressing against it.

"—MMMMMMhhhhhgggghhhh!" -- that was the only sound he was able to make,
because our lips were glued together.

I wanted more, an even closer contact: I needed bare skin.  I grabbed his
tee shirt and pulled it up to the level of his armpits, feeling a huge wave
of heat from his body.  He grabbed my tee shirt and did a better job,
getting it all the way off and leaving me naked from the waist up.  Our
lips were still stuck together, but I forced my tongue between them and
started to explore his mouth, and he quickly did the same; and at the same
time I decided to risk it...

I moved my hand round to the front of his clothing and grabbed at his dick,
which felt every bit as hard as mine -- and now it was at my mercy.  I
could feel it quivering inside his trousers... but I needed more, so I
seized his belt and undid it, and then wrenched my own belt open and undid
my jeans, dragging them down in my uncontrollable urge to be naked with him
-- and he too dragged his trousers down below his knees...

We kissed fervently once more, only this time the thrusting of our tongues
was matched by the thrusting of our hips as we ground our erections
together... I needed to grab his cock, to feel it... yesssss!!! There it
was, a cock, his beautiful cock, touching me... it was right by my hand, so
I grabbed it...

WOWWWWWWW!!!

That was amazing, incredible...that hot, hard thing, moist at the tip,
stuck against me fingers; and soon...

"Ahhhhhhhh," I breathed as he took hold of mine just as I was holding his:
I'm sure he was keen to moisten his fingers with my liquid, the same way
that was happening to me...

What we were doing to each other was affecting both of us.  I caressed
every millimetre of his shaft and head, revelling in the feel of his
velvety skin.  He was uncut, which made his penis feel even more amazing --
to me, at least: I played with his foreskin, pulling it up and then back
again, and each time I did this Camilo moaned -- our lips were still firmly
pressed against each other's, of course.  He didn't hold back, either, and
the way he was handling the head of my penis soon had it leaking quite a
lot.

Unfortunately I suddenly found that I had a problem, and quickly it went
from being just a problem to being something close to an emergency.  It was
highly embarrassing, but I had to tell him I needed to go to the bathroom
-- which is a polite way of saying that I was desperate for a shit.

He looked at me and smiled, his lips shiny with our saliva.

"Ummm... could I come with you?" he asked.

That was a pretty unusual request, and I looked at him in surprise.

"What -- to the bathroom?" I asked.

"Yes.  See, I... I want to watch you... you know, having your shit."  He
looked a bit embarrassed himself at this point.

Well, that certainly was unusual, and it soon developed into the strangest
thing I had ever been asked to do in the whole of my admittedly short
life. I couldn't really argue, though: a combination of the excitement I
was still feeling and the effects of the drug we had taken earlier had
reduced me to a state of desperate need.  So I headed for the bathroom and
Camilo followed me.  It was a rather ungainly progress: it's hard to walk
properly with your trousers round your knees, and I probably looked
completely ridiculous.

Once we got there Camilo took charge.  Her took me by the shoulders and
guided me into place, trying to get me to sit on the seat the wrong way
round, so that I was facing the tank.  I couldn't do it with my trousers
still on, so I took them off -- leaving me in nothing but my socks -- and
then sat down the way he wanted me to.

Camilo knelt down behind me and reached out, taking hold of my buttocks,
one in each hand.  I watched him, smiling but still feeling obscurely
ashamed about it.  He now controlled my ass and opened my crack, at which
the contents of my colon escaped in a hurry -- and of course because Camilo
was positioned with his face in the immediate vicinity he got the full
force of the smell.  Surprisingly he didn't seem to mind that in the least:
in fact he looked up at me and said "More!" eagerly.  So I pushed, and a
further offering appeared.  Camilo did his best to open me up as far as
possible, pushing so hard that it hurt.  He moaned in pleasure.  It's
unusual -- hell, it's almost unheard of -- but apparently there are people
that enjoy this sort of thing, and he was obviously one of them.

"That's all there is," I told him, and he relaxed his grip a little.

"That was brilliant," he said, excitedly.

"If you say so," I replied, in a matter-of-fact way.  I supposed there
would be time enough later to ask why he found this a turn-on.  My erection
had subsided while I was emptying my bowels, but when I started wiping
myself with the toilet paper I noticed that Camilo had a happy look on his
face and an amazingly hard erection.

"Camilo," I suggested, "could we take a shower?  It'd be good to get
properly clean."

"OK," he replied, enthusiastically.

I took off my socks, and while he was getting his clothes off I started the
water and set the temperature, and then we got under the flow together.  It
was fun watching him entering the shower with his swollen penis leading the
way.  The water quickly drenched us, his little braids -- fourteen of them,
to be precise -- suffered a little under the flow and started to unravel a
little, but he said that he didn't need to wash his hair properly.  To be
honest I didn't really need a shower -- after all, I'd had one shortly
before leaving the house -- but it was a perfect opportunity to get naked
with him so that we could examine each other in every detail.

I readjusted the shower-head to point at my body and started to soap myself
up, and almost at once I could feel other hands helping me.  I relaxed and
let him get on with it: the touch of his hands on my naked body felt
amazing.  Once I'd finished washing my hair he took the soap, made plenty
of lather with it and then started applying it to my face (carefully
avoiding my eyes, nose and mouth) and then my chest.

"Hehe, you look just like Santa, complete with the beard," he said.

"Asshole!" I answered.

He worked hard at washing my chest, paying special attention to my nipples,
which soon responded to his attention my standing out like hard little
bumps.  He worked his way down my ribs to my stomach, and then when he
reached my hairs (which are fairly sparse, to be honest) he applied more
soap to his hands and produced a lot more lather.  My dick had got hard
again long before he reached it, and it was exciting, not to say faintly
obscene, seeing it sticking out of a welter of foam.  He didn't touch it
directly at all, but he didn't need to in order to get me going.

I turned and offered him my back, wanted him to clean it for me, but the
damned kid just wouldn't leave my dick alone. He grabbed it with one hand,
while with the other he made a cursory wipe over my shoulders, more or less
bypassed my back completely and moved straight on to my buttocks.  When his
hand, slippery with soap, reached my buttocks I couldn't restrain a gasp of
"Ooohh! Fffss!!" as he started caressing my bum with one hand while wanking
me off in slow motion with the other.  It was the most amazingly sensual
and exciting feeling -- it's hard to describe how brilliant it felt.

His slippery hand slid slowly up and down my ass, caressing it.  "You've
got a really cute ass, dude -- it's so round, so smooth, so... mmmmhhh," he
said enthusiastically, in a hoarse voice.

I couldn't resist the urge to move back against him, and straight away I
found what I was looking for: his penis.  I got its shaft trapped between
my buttocks like a hotdog in a bun.

"AAAhhh," he gasped, as I rubbed against him, feeling it slip along my
crack.

"No, wait," I said, "I need to see what it feels like..."

I turned to face him, held him in my arms and gave him an enthusiastic
kiss, which he returned in the same vein.  I took the soap from him,
lathered my hands and began to do to him what he had done to me, though
rather more rapidly: I did his face and chest, not wasting much time on his
tits: I wanted to get my hands on his dick, that target that was just
waiting for me between his legs...I reached it.  This was my first real
opportunity to look at it openly: it was rigid, about fourteen centimetres
in length, with the foreskin slightly retracted, the tip of the reddish
head just peeping through.  I retracted his foreskin completely and the
head stood free, like a tiny potato with a beautiful dimple in, damp and
exciting, with a tiny drop of whitish stuff seeping from the end.

I spun him round and pulled him against me, wanting to get my penis between
his cheeks.  Camilo allowed me to do this -- in fact, it was obviously what
he wanted, because his thrust his buttocks back against me, squeezing my
erection between them.  It slipped out, and at once he grabbed it and put
it back where he wanted it.  Now it was my turn to be the sausage in the
hotdog, as Camilo held my penis between his legs and began to move, giving
me a mind-blowing jerk-off with his ass cheeks.  I took his head and turned
it towards me so that I could kiss him, and our tongues intertwined, and
Camilo slowed his gyrations almost completely so that we could concentrate
on our dizzying kiss.

We moved apart and smiled at each other.  I turned the water off and
stepped out of the shower, handing him a towel that was big enough to cover
him completely and taking another for myself.  We dried ourselves and went
back to the bedroom.

I watched as the depraved boy went to his trousers and extracted a HUGE
joint from his pocket: it was at least seven centimetres long and almost
half a centimetre wide.  I smiled at him and he lit it.

"Listen," I said, "if I smoke that monstrosity there's no way I'll be able
to take you home.  In fact I wouldn't even be able to get you as far as the
Militar School subway station."

"Well, there's nobody at home waiting for me, so would it be a problem for
me to stay here?"

It didn't bother me at all, to be honest, and in fact I was pleased he had
suggested it.  He'd already said that he liked the house, although I think
it was really all the crap I owned that he liked, the motorbike, my
Nintendo console, all the hundreds of games I had for it, the computer, the
video and so on.  And there was no risk of the neighbours realizing there
was someone here: first, nobody was interested in anyone else's business in
this neighbourhood, and second, the grounds outside the house itself were
pretty extensive: we had 50,000 square meters, which meant that from the
house to the walls, which were two and a half meters high, was 300 metres.
As I've said before, my family was rolling in it.

Camilo had told me that his folks were employees, which put them in
socio-economic class C.  That didn't bother me at all: my parents might
have been millionaires; but I wasn't.

"What about a beer to go with that joint?" I suggested, and he flashed me
that beautiful white smile again.

We were still wearing our towels like togas, so I passed him a pair of
slippers and headed for the kitchen.  On the way I opened the windows to
clear the smell of the joint.  In fact I knew that both my parents smoked
grass: although they took care to hide it from me and my sister, but we had
both caught the smell from time to time, and seen the remains of the
spliffs which they had carelessly left lying in the ashtray.  I'm pretty
sure they used coke or heroin too.

We smoked our joints and drank some beer.  It only took about three hits of
the spliff to get me off my face: I coughed and thought about taking a
fourth draw, but decided against it.  Camilo went as far as five
inhalations, and then he started coughing and his eyes began to water.

The silence washed over us, but then our senses started to become more
sensitive and we started to notice things in a different way: the noise of
the refrigerator became music; the lights in the kitchen became brighter;
and the scents in the house, and especially those of the fruit in the
kitchen, became more heady.

Before I became incapable of movement I suggested that we might go and
watch the television, so we went back to my room.  I admired his nicely
formed body as I followed him, and especially his buttocks...

We lay on the bed and turned on the TV, zapping between channels for a bit
until we hit on MTV, which was showing a heavy rock program. The lights
pulsed in time with the heavy metal music and I became entranced, starting
at the TV and feeling one with it.  I reached out for him and took his
hand, and he held mine without hesitation -- in fact he clung to me.  I
turned and looked into his face, stunned by the beauty of this boy who was
lying beside me and holding on to me.  He drew me close to him, returning
my admiring glance with one of his own.

He put his head on my shoulder.  I could smell his body, and I could see
the way his hair was braided, and it looked amazing... I felt almost
hypnotized by him.  I gently lifted his chin so that I could look into his
beautiful green eyes, and then it was his mouth that became the centre of
attraction for me: I moved slowly towards him until our lips touched
gently, as if it was our first kiss.  He put his hand on the back of my
neck and pulled me against him, pressing his lips against mine with gentle
intensity.  I opened my lips and he did, too, and our tongues quested out
as if they were searching for water or honey -- and we began to kiss, a
sensual, exciting kiss.

I hugged him and pulled him against me, wanting to feel his body against
mine, and he felt the same way, pressing against me.  We pushed our hips
together.  I had an erection and so did he, and our solid pricks began to
conduct a battle with each other through the towels that covered us.  He
snatched mine away, leaving me naked, so I did the same to him, and we
began to attack each other eagerly.  Our tongues continued to fight their
private battle while our hands roamed over captured enemy territory,
exploring.

Camilo put his hands on my ass and explored my buttocks, while I went
straight for the main target and captured the soldier between his legs.  I
slipped my free hand onto his buttocks and did to him what he was doing to
me, and he in turn moved one hand to my penis.  Slowly we masturbated each
other, and -- combined with the feeling of each other's ass -- it felt
amazing.  I put my legs between his and raised them, making it easier for
our hands to reach areas that were more secluded, but which were now open
for capture.

"Uh, Camilo?  Could I touch your hole?"

He gave me a huge smile and replied, "Marcelo, may I touch your hole?"

I smiled and kissed him on the lips once more.

Camilo began a full exploration of my ass, touching the middle of it.  I
could feel one of his fingers caressing my anus gently and smoothly, just
as I was doing to his young hole.  There was an incredible heat emanating
from it, and he was moaning now, just as I was... mmmffgg...

The feeling of the head of his penis in my hand was driving me crazy,
bringing back all my fantasies from before: to suck a cock!  I drew back
from our kiss and moved to his neck, and then to his chest, his
nipple... Camilo seemed to get the picture, as he lay on his back, opened
his legs wide and allowed me to do whatever I wanted.  I worked on his
nipples for a while, leaving them hard, and then moved further down and
licked around and into his navel.  Camilo's only response was a soft moan:
ah, ah, aah, aaooh!

I grabbed his cock and he jerked as if electrocuted.  I drank in the sight
of his penis, stroking it like a new and well-loved toy.  His foreskin was
still dutifully protecting his helmet, but I carefully drew it back,
revealing the head, damp and reddish in colour...  I gave it a light lick
and Camilo shivered.

I used my tongue to clean it, washing away all the juices and replacing
them with my saliva.  I moved on to his balls and licked them, feeling
every wrinkle in the skin with my tongue.  And then I returned to his
shaft, tonguing it all the way back up to his cockhead.  Camilo shivered
and moaned, clenching his fists around the damp towels with every lick and
stimulus I offered him.  I opened my mouth and took it between my lips,
holding it there and exploring the flavour of him as it entered my mouth,
and although the taste was bland it did nothing to dispel my dream.

I licked all round the head, drawing it further and further into the lust
cavern of my mouth, until it hit the back of my throat and almost made me
gag.  I had to back up a little, betrayed by my complete lack of
experience.  I took a second or two to recover from this unpleasant
experience and then started to slide it slowly into and out of my mouth,
gradually speeding up until I was going at a feverish rate.  Camilo was
only able to emit guttural sounds as I jerked him off with my mouth, and
each time I took a little more in, and now, although the gag reflex was
triggered again, these were less and less intense with each stroke.
Finally I could no longer feel them, and at that point I was able to
accommodate it all the way to the back of my throat, even getting it far
enough in for his sparse pubes to tickle my nose.  I forced the whole thing
in, even getting part of his scrotum in as well: his entire woody was
inside my mouth -- all the way, dude!

"Oh, my God... stop... shit!  Stop!
Aaaghhh... Iiii... Iiii... IIIiiiiii...  I am going to CUM, aghhh,
hoa... fffhj—"

But nothing was going to stop me now.  Four or five more deep strokes, and
Camilo lifted his hips and his semen exploded out of him, gushing straight
down my throat.  I went on and on swallowing the thick liquid, which tasted
like unripe fruit, and the last couple of spurts were not quite so powerful
and stayed on my tongue.  And Camilo's penis slipped out of my mouth, still
throbbing in time with the beat of his heart, and as it softened a final
drip fell from it onto his belly.  I licked that one up, too.  And with my
mouth still full of his semen I moved up alongside him and kissed him
fervently, wanting him to share in the taste.

Obviously Camilo and I were lacking experience, but we knew the general
theory of what we were doing.  He accepted my kiss and allowed part of his
semen to pass into his mouth, and I got the impression that he was
delighted to take it from me in this way.

"Wow, good cum," he said.  "Have you done this before?"

"No," I replied.  That was my first time, and I can tell you that it was
fucking brilliant!"

Camilo took some deep breaths to try to steady his breathing.

"What about you?" I went on.  "Have you done that before?"

"Well, no, not that.  But I have done some other stuff."  There was a
secret hiding here, I thought, and when he didn't immediately explain I
made a gesture with my head that was a clear demand for more details.

"Didn't you find it a bit strange that I wanted to watch you having a
shit?" he asked.

I gave him a clear nod.

"Well," he went on, "there was this time... I was with a friend, we'd been
smoking weed and she was off her face.  We were both naked and we'd had a
great fuck.  We were both lying on our stomachs, and she said she needed a
shit but couldn't be bothered to go to the bathroom, and the crazy tart
just spread her legs and asked me to open her crack -- get what I'm
saying?" (I nodded) "And... well, I did it, man!  I held her hole open and
she started to shit, and this massive turd appeared -- about as big as the
one you did tonight -- and slid all the way out... and her hole looked
completely clean.  I was horny as hell and I just couldn't stop myself from
licking her hole..."

This story grossed me out: I just find shit repulsive -- no way could it
ever make me horny.

"And since then," he went on, "I've always been fascinated by the idea of
licking holes.  The best wanks I've had have been when I've been
fantasising about licking a girl's hole... or," he added, suggestively, "a
boy's..."

This last bit had a magical effect on me: my penis, which was at half-mast,
immediately straightened right up, a fact which didn't pass unnoticed by
Camilo, who developed a serious expression and looked at me intently.  I
looked back into his eyes -- and it struck me that there was a certain
similarity between his story and mine -- and maybe that was one of the
reasons that we had hit it off straight away.

I had frequently fantasised about having a penis in my mouth while I
wanked, and in those fantasies, when the man (or whoever) came in my mouth,
I came too.  And these fantasies were really not very satisfying.  And my
friend had been through a particular experience with a special friend, and
his fantasies had been coloured by that experience.  Taking into account
that most people seem to think I've got a cute ass, then -- given that
Camilo had allowed me to live my dick-sucking fantasy -- surely it was only
right for me to return the favour and allow him to live his.

I smiled at him complicitly and lay on my stomach, spreading my legs to
convey the message that I expected him to accept the invitation.

Camilo moved alongside, kissing me and adding a gentle lick and them
arranged himself head down to me in the same position, with his legs
spread.  The invitation was clear: he wanted me to lick him in the same way
as he was going to lick me.

Almost at once I wriggled my way to his ass.  After all, I'd sucked his
dick; why not lick his hole?

(There's a first time for everything...)

(AND this was Camilo...)

(AND -- I actually wanted to do it...)

I got my head between his legs, pushing them a little further apart.  The
vision of his buttocks was before me, and the thought of the small hole
concealed between them was fascinating.  I placed one hand on each cheek
and caressed them gently, the way you might caress a small child.  This
stroking made Camilo groan again, a sound from deep within himself... I
slowly pushed each buttock outwards, looking for the hidden treasure...

...a tiny little mouth, surrounded by wrinkles that led to a small cavity,
completely hairless and a slightly darker colour than the rest of his
magnificent ass.  Camilo did something astonishing: he tightened and
loosened his sphincter, and the little dimple pulsed suggestively.  I found
myself fascinated by it.  I moved his cheeks a bit further apart and it
opened like a little flower, allowing me to glimpse the pink walls of his
rectum.  Camilo gave another groan of excitement...

I released my hold on his buttocks and the fascinating little orifice, and
the tunnel beyond it, disappeared.  I opened it up again, playing with him
like this a couple of times, and on the third go I allowed my lips to be
drawn towards his hole, and by puckering my lips managed to plant a little
kiss on it.

Camilo's body jerked and he gave another groan, his buttocks tightening at
the unexpected contact between my lips and his anus.  This was becoming
more and more exciting: captivated by the vision and sensation of this
wrinkled dimple I put out my tongue, moved it into his crack and gave him
two or three timid licks.  Camilo no longer said anything, just relaxed and
then tensed up again at each touch of my tongue.  So I decided to really go
for it: I licked the entire length of his crack, from the top right down to
his balls, stopping at the hole to push a little -- and I could feel it
giving way before my tongue.  I pushed his buttocks as far apart as I
could, the hole opened before me and I pressed my tongue against it.  I
could feel the velvety texture of his rectum...  And Camilo took hold of
his own ass and pushed it so far open that it looked positively painful,
but it gave my tongue a chance to get even further inside.  I forced it
into him, keeping it as solid as possible and pressing forward as much as I
could until my nose was firmly pressed against his crack.

It felt incredible, but I wanted to get even further inside him if
possible.  So I slid my hands underneath him and lifted him up using my
forearms, keeping his legs as far apart as possible, and this left him
kneeling up with his ass in the air and his chest on the bed.  I knelt up
behind him.  Now I had a really good view of his damp hole, and as it
opened a little I could see the small pink spot that was the start of his
rectum.  I leaned forward, attacking his anus with my tongue like there was
no tomorrow.  Camilo let out another groan, though I couldn't make out more
of what he was trying to say than, "ohhh... Gooooooddddd... Oh, that feels
so good... oooohhhhaa!"

His hole was slowly opening up to me, and eventually it surrendered to my
sore tongue, allowing me to push not just the tip but a good two
centimetres inside his rectum.  I'd thought it was going to be repulsive,
but I was wrong: it was simply delicious.  Each attack of my fleshy and
dribbling tongue was driving Camilo crazy: he shook, he screamed, he
sighed, and each time I thought he was out of breath he recovered and did
it again, revelling in the treatment I was giving him.  Camilo grabbed his
dick and started wanking, and I forced my tongue inside him as deeply as
possible.

"AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh..... ggnnn, aaaooooouuuuuuuuuu!" went Camilo as I forced
my tongue to its limit into his anus, and I felt that each spurt of semen
was accompanied by a strong pulsation of his anus that was transmitted to
my tongue, whose invasion of him was submerging all of his senses in
uncontrollable waves of pleasure, leaving him almost delirious... and I was
the one doing it to him -- me!  My penis throbbed and twitched as if I were
epileptic.  A long thread of precum stretched from the tip of my dick to
the bed... I was so horny...

It took a while for my friend to recover fully -- some minutes, in fact --
and I kissed and licked at his dick for most of that period.  Finally he
came back from whichever paradise his mind had traveled to, turned to face
me and hugged me.

"Th... thanks," he mumbled.

I looked at him in some amusement and replied to him with exquisite
politeness, "You're most welcome -- any time, man!"

Camilo propped himself up on his elbow and kissed me so tenderly.  I closed
me eyes and realized that his tongue had entered my mouth... he hugged me
again as his kiss became more enthusiastic still, his tongue exploring all
round my mouth, and as he thrust it yet further in I started to suck it,
and he immediately returned the favor, sucking mine until it was positively
hurting.  And my penis was stiff and throbbing as never before.

Camilo didn't mess about: he leaned forward and swallowed my dick cleanly,
and in shock my eyes opened wide and I moaned, "Ohhhh, that's so
goooooood!!"

He sucked in the head of my cock, tasting it, and then he swallowed, drew
it in even further -- and my entire cock went into his mouth, right into
his throat, and he held it there without even a hint of gagging -- the
bastard!  I could tell he was enjoying it from the satisfied noises he was
making... and then he began to give me a sensational wank using his lips
and tongue... it was incredible, unimaginable -- I could feel the liquids
being drawn from my body, sending astonishing waves of pleasure right
through me... I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably at the magical
touch of his mouth on my cock...

Camilo changed position, putting himself between my legs, pushing them
apart and then continuing with that glorious sucking.  He bobbed up and
down on my shaft, his lips squeezed together to make me feel as good as
possible.  Then he moved to my balls and forced both of them into his
moist, warm mouth. He bent over me, licking away at my nuts and then
returning his attention to my dick, taking it all the way into his mouth
once again.

Next he lifted me a little, his hands on my ass, and wriggled forward until
my lower back was resting on his thighs, and then he lifted me a little
higher, my legs wide apart, until eventually I found myself in the classic
pornography position with my knees close to my own shoulders -- which of
course left the most important parts of me entirely open to Camilo's
ministrations.  He put his mouth against my hole, and I jumped, as much
through surprise as pleasure, though as my anus was licked for the first
time I felt as if I was under an incredibly potent magic spell designed to
suffuse me with pleasure.  His tongue pressed against me, making me moan
desperately -- now I could understand how Camilo had felt not half an hour
previously.

I put my hands on my buttocks and opened myself up as much as I could.  It
was an overwhelming sensation: having my hole licked by someone's tongue
had to be about the most incredible feeling ever.  Of course, doubled up
the way I was, it was easy for him to get right into my hole, and soon he
had his tongue right inside my rectum, giving me wave after wave of
pleasure each time he pushed his tongue into me and then eased it out
again, and indeed as the tip of his tongue wriggled about inside me.  I
felt completely exposed, utterly at the mercy of the incredible pleasure
the damned boy was subjecting me to.

"Marcelo... could I... well... could I put a finger in there?"

I stared at him, jaw dropped in amazement, but I did just about manage to
nod.

Camilo put his pinky finger in his mouth and wet it, transferring a little
wetness to the opening of my hole.

I watched as he put the tip of his smallest finger against my anus, and the
way it explored around the rim made me moan with pleasure.  I closed my
eyes, concentrating entirely on the sensations I knew were going to come.
I felt him pressing a little, working his way around my entrance until he
found exactly the right angle, and then he pushed.  I felt my ring expand a
little, sending a little shockwave through me.

"Oops... does that hurt?" he asked me, though without taking his finger out
again.

"No," I replied.  "Just take it slow."

I closed my eyes once more, again concentrating on the pleasure centre that
was my anus, feeling the little intruder move a little further inside... it
felt good -- amazing, in fact.  I welcomed the way it opened me up,
exposing me to greater and greater pleasure.  Suddenly his finger stopped
-- though in fact it was my anal sphincter that caused the stoppage,
offering a final resistance to the invasion.  There was a moment of pain
and I cried out.

Camilo stopped.  "Does that hurt?" he asked.  "Should I take it out?"

"No, leave it in," I said, gasping.  "Leave it right where it is."  My ass
clenched involuntarily, two or three spasms that sent waves of pleasure all
over my body.  I could feel Camilo's finger tucked perfectly into my
anus... so I clenched my ass again, this time intentionally, and Camilo's
finger began to advance once more -- and this time it didn't hurt: in fact
it felt wonderful.  Pressing on past the barrier that had briefly delayed
it, it advanced right into me, filling me with incredible excitement.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!" I screamed.  "That's gooooooooddd... it's
so goooooooooddd!  Camilo, please... please do that
again... pleeeeeeeeeease!!!"

My friend drew his finger back and my sphincter pressed out, expelling it,
and then back it came again, making me convulse uncontrollably as his
finger pressed into me once more.  He repeated the action a couple more
times until I was no longer doing anything to oppose the movement of his
finger, and then he leaned forward and took the tip of my penis into his
mouth, and sucked me while he fucked me with his finger.

I lost all control, shaking and convulsing beneath him, pressing against
him to maximize the
sensation... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!........ AAAAAAA!!..... AAAAA!!... AAAAA!"
Each spurt into Camilo's mouth lifted me further and further out of myself,
pushing me up to levels of delight that I'd never got close to before no
matter how frantically I masturbated, or even when having intercourse with
girls.

I felt dismayed when his finger withdrew for the last time, even though the
final sensation of it moving in me felt as good as the earlier ones had.  I
slipped clear of Camilo's body, still breathing heavily and moaning like a
person possessed; tears falling from my eyes.

Camilo hugged me hard, saying, "Oh, God, that was beautiful... you're
beautiful... my precious Marcelo, I can't not say it: Marcelo, my Marcy, I
love you!"

And he licked the final traces of my juices from his lips and swallowed
them.

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

If you're enjoying this story and want more, please write to me at
dap_cl@yahoo.com -- suggestions are welcome, and I will be happy to answer
you whether your comments are positive or negative -- all views will be
gladly received.  After all, if it turns out I really can't do this, it's
better that I find out about it -- then I can stop trying to write and go
back to just reading other writers' stories, rather than inflicting my
efforts on an unhappy audience.  I am very much aware that I'm by no means
a professional writer, just an enthusiastic amateur with a deranged
imagination that goes right back to my own childhood.

If you like it, though, please say so -- that way I might be encouraged to
keep the story going!

Many thanks to David Clarke, editor and translator of this chapter.