Date: Sat, 23 Nov 2002 20:21:53 -0500 (EST)
From: Clark Gaybull <ClarkGaybull@webtv.net>
Subject: One of Many Escapades  #5

This time I'm gonna write about my week-long escapades with Vinnie.

Vinnie was visiting his aunt and uncle, who's place was very visible
from mine because it, too, was so close to the lake.  But it was "at
about ten o'clock " from mine, so, there was quite a bit of water
between the two structures.

Vinnie was told by his cousin, Kim, to look for me.  Kim visited the
aunt and uncle during the last two weeks in July.  And Kim ended up
spending more of the second week with me than with her relatives.  It
was with Kim that I had my first heterosexual experiences.
Needless-to-say, I didn't get very much work done on the cabin when she
was around.

She was about a month older than me, having turned 17 just before her
visit.  When she returned to her hometown - which was the same as
Vinnie's - I thought that my experimental, homosexual phase had ended.

The first week of Vinnie's visit was unremarkble.  (I guess he was
content with the distractions provided by his kin.)

I had seen him a couple of times during the first two weekends, fishing
with his uncle and father, both of whom returned to their primary
residences during the week because they had to work.  And THAT was more
than two hours away for each.

As the prospect of a second week with his aunt loomed, he apparently
decided to emerge more from her companionship.

Our first meeting was at the beach.  I was taking a break from improving
the bungalow.  It was so hot that a swim sounded like the perfect
solution.

When I arrived at the beach, Vinnie and another guy (who's parents owned
property at the lake) were rough-housing in the shallow water.  Jack was
a young, second-generation schooteacher.  And Vinnie was splashing and
jumping on him.  When Jack saw me, he announced that "help is here."

After Jack introduced me to Vinnie, my presence must have provided Jack
with the excuse he was lookng for - to get away from Vinnie's energetic
pestering.  Jack splashed a few more times, then said that he had "had
enough" and was leaving.

When Jack had gone, Vinnie expanded his attacks on me to include the
physical contact that was part of his onslaught of Jack.  In addition to
the splashing, the battle now also consisted of wrestling and ducking.
And I think I could tell that his repeated jumping on my back and
shoulders was giving him a hard-on.

To uneqivocally answer that question, I made sure to fend him off a few
times by using several "stiff arms" to his groin.  They were met with an
undoubtable stiffness of his own.  Granted, these "feels" were through
his old-fashioned, baggy swimsuit.  But, there was no mistaking that the
repeated contact had made him erect, which probably explained the rush
of blood to MY member.

I don't think he knew that I was becoming aroused, but I eventually
realized that his actions were calculated to give him pleasure.  In the
interest of concealing my stimulatedness, I suggested that we "take a
break" by swimming out to the raft.  (I thought that, after paddling
forty yards, my "condition" might subside.  I was right.)

After climbing up to my resting spot, I was not embarrassed by any
woodie.  But when Vinnie scampered up - especially when he laid back
flat with his hands over his head - it was obvious that he was still
excited.  Even wearing the roomy trunks, the "tenting" of them was very
conspicuous.  It was almost as though he was flaunting his state.

It was under these circumstances that I learned more about Vinnie.
Physically, I could see that he was considerably younger than his
17-year-old cousin.  (I eventually found out that he had celebrated his
thirteenth birthday earlier this year.)

Resting on his back with his arms stretched beside his head, it was
noticeable that there was only a hint of fuzz in his pits and on his
lower legs.  From his water-hardened nipples above his suit, to his
youthful knees below, there was no trace of anything but smoothness.

His reddish-brown hair was darkened by being wet.  (I thought his blue
eyes completed an unusual combination.)  And I hadn't previously
observed the fullness of his lips; but they are quite substantial - like
Steve Tyler's, of Aerosmith.

In spite of it being mid-August, he didn't have much of a tan.  But he
said that he had even less color prior to his first week at the lake.

"My cousin tells me you got along with her pretty good."

"VERY good," I corrected.

"What did you two do?"

I didn't know how much I should tell him, so my limited reply was, "What
DIDN'T we do."

"Wow.  You REALLY did all that?"

This conversation was NOT making his erection go away.  And, MY dick
started to harden as I remembered my sessions with his cousin.  I
thought I had better sit up.  In fact, I STOOD up and dove off of the
raft.  Now I've got a rod again and I'm uncomfortable as hell.  So I
swam under the raft; quickly took off my suit; slung it over a strap;
and began to relieve myself.

"I can SEE you under there," sung his voice.

"I'm just scratching an itch," which I did quietly and rapidly.  So, it
wasn't long 'til my cum floated to the top of the water.

With equal efficiency, I put my suit back on; returned atop the raft;
and acted like nothing had happened.  (You know - "the cat that just ate
the mouse" look.)

"Good show!" he commended.  "Feel better?"  My silence was follwed by
him admitting, "We do it all the time."

"Do what?" I played dumb.

"Beat off."  Pause.  "Sometimes we do it to EACH OTHER."

How much did this 13-year-od know?  How much did he DO?  I sure wasn't
gonna prolong this conversation.

"Kim says you were cummin' all the time."  Then he bragged, "Sometimes I
can cum five times in one day."  (In fact, that's MY most - with HIS
cousin!)

Then I successfully changed the subject:  "I've gotta get back to work.
I've got some more moulding to place before going home for the night."

"You mean you don't stay at your cabin?"

"No.  My mom and dad feed me.  So that's where I go every night."

"Are you coming back tomorrow?"

"Yeah.  I usually get here around ten."

"Good," he said.  "It's supposed to be sunny.  I'll come over and work
on my tan."

"Well," I cautioned, "I've got a lot to do.  So I don't know how much
I'll be around."  And with that, we went our separate ways for the rest
of the day.

Tuesday was another fine August day.  True to my word, I arrived a
little before ten.  True to HIS word, Vinnie showed up before 10:30.

It was already quite warm, so, he got comfortable in one of the lawn
chairs at my place.  And I went inside to hang some more strips of
moulding.

Less than an hour had passed when he appeared at the door, covered in
sweat.  "Whew," he panted.  "Wanna cool off at the beach?"

"I really have more work I wanna do.  Besides, the beach is too far.
But if you wanna cool off in my shower, you can."

"Oh.  You've got one?  That sounds great!"

He had forsaken yesterday's long, baggy suit for a very skimpy,
speedo-type thing today.  It didn't cover very much of him.  And what it
DID cover, bulged amply.  It was actually too small for him because, as
he pattered into the bathroom, much of his ass hung out of the fabric
when he turned his back to me.

I resumed working; heard the shower go on; then it stopped.

His cousin had shown me the joys of girl-boy sex.  But Vinnie was
rekindling my appreciation for boy-boy relationships.

He emerged from his shower, using a towel from the bathroom, but still
dripping from most areas of his nearly naked frame.  When he stood
straight up, not only could I see through his tight, water-drenched
bottoms, but the light-colored fabric appeared to have shrunk even
tinier, showing that, in only forty-five minutes, he had developed "tan
lines," which made me laugh.

I boasted that I didn't have any "tan lines" because, "When I sunbathe,
I sunbathe nude; on the secluded hill in back of the cabin.  There's a
field up there."

"I don't believe you," he doubted.

Which prompted me to moon him so he could see my bronzed buns.

"When ya goin' up there again?"

"Maybe later."

He then gave himself a tour of my cabin before returning to his
sunbathing.

I put up two more strips, quenched my thirst, went out beside his lawn
chair, and said, "Let's go."

He opened his eyes eagerly, put on his sneaks, and motioned for me to
"lead the way."

Up through a side-hill grove of evergreens we went, carrying our beach
towels, bug repellant, and sun lotion.

"Here we are."  And a spacious clearing lay before us.

"Good enough?"

"Good enough," I confirmed.

Vinnie imitated me by spreading his beach towel on the ground.  Then he
stopped to watch me.  I was removing my tank-type undershirt and I
pulled off my gym shorts, thrusting my bare bottom toward him.  "You
really DON'T have any tan lines," he squealed.  And his little speedos
went down.

I had seen most of him yesterday.  But the area revealed today warrants
additional description.  The bulge was there previously.  But now I saw
a cock that belied its 13-year-old age.  More like 18 or 19.  For that
matter, full-grown.  Very little pubic hair.  But what a package!  Even
his balls looked like those of a much older person:  hairless, but
hanging down sizeably in a plentiful scrotum.

I turned toward him to demonstrate my immodesty.  But I quickly flopped
face-down on my towel to hide my growing tool.  Maybe this would pass
and I wouldn't be embarrassed to sun my front later.  But, as he
positioned himself, I knew that I wouldn't be losing my erection soon.

He lay face-up, elbows bent, with his fingers intertwined so that he
could rest his head in them.  His dick rose intermittently in
conjunction with his pulse, until finally it was stiff.  But still it
bobbed.  "Wow.  This is great."

"Just don't fall asleep and get too much on one side."

"You brought lotion, didn't you?"

And I flung the plastic container toward him.

He greased his front and, before he laid down, asked if I wanted my back
done.

"Go ahead," I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

First he squeezed some strands onto my back and rubbed them in.  Then he
did my legs, which, curiously, were spread much wider when he was
finished than when he started.  Lastly, I felt a spurt go onto each ass
cheek.  I don't think he separated my buns too much as he wiped the
cream around.  I hoped my humping of my towel wasn't too conspicuous.  I
thought I was gonna cum right then and there as he applied lotion to my
butt.  When he was done, I could finally calm down and I dozed off, only
to be awakened about thirty minutes later by Vinnie tapping me on my
shoulder saying, "Now you do me."

He flopped onto his belly and I noticed that my dick was now soft.  So,
I thought that it'd be okay to oil his back.  I did what he had done to
me.  And, his reaction was similar to mine, complete with the widening
of his legs and the attempted impregnation of his towel.  Lying
face-down like he was, and bent like I had to be to apply the slippery
stuff, maybe he wouldn't see that my full-fledged erection had returned.

I remained sitting 'til I thought that he'd drifted off, put the sun
protection on my front, then found the courage to recline on my back.
My cock was still so hard that it slapped directly against my belly.
But the more I considered the situation, the more relieved I felt:  My
boner might have been regarded as simply the upward resting of my dong.
My totally nude body submissively accepted - and eventually welcomed -
the shining warmth, which relaxed me into joining Vinnie in a restful
nap.

Almost an hour later, I was awakened by what I thought was a bug flying
around my dick.  I squinted one eye open but kept still because I didn't
want to scare this bug away.  I wanted to lure it to my fatal swat.
Imagine my surprise when I saw Vinnie, sitting up, wielding a long,
straw-like piece of stiff grass, tickling my weenie.  I lay motionless
awhile, enjoying him playing with my rod.  Even with it fully extended,
it wasn't too obvious because of its flatness to my stomach.  However,
when I noticed the wetness starting to ooze out of its head, I swiftly
sat up and suggested that we return back down to my cabin.  (In
retrospect, how stupid I was to have ended that situation.)

We put our bottoms back on - as difficult as that was, given our states
of arousal - and uncomfortably descended the hill, making adjustments
when necessary as we walked.  How humorous Vinnie looked, trying to
position his pointy thing in his too-skimpy speedos.  If he'd have kept
his hands off it, it probably would have softened sooner.

It was close to four.  I must have seemed really indifferent when
addressing the next two subjects.

I said, "I'm gonna put up some more moulding."  Sensing his
disappointment, I added, "But you're gonna be here tomorrow, right?"

"No.  My aunt's taking me to an amusement park.  Wanna go?"

Not being a "ride person," I was honest when I answered, "No thanks,"
which appeared to devastate him.

"Well, maybe I'll see ya Thursday."  And he left.

But it rained all day Thursday.  And into the afternoon Friday.  Because
he was at the park Wednesday, and him not wanting to be a bad-weather
bother, his was almost a three-day absence.  Just as I was about to
leave for supper at mom's and dad's, Vinnie reappeared.

He said that he had a real good time at the park.  Most of the fun, he
recalled, came from watching his aunt react to some of the wilder rides.
And, he confirmed that he "didn't want to be in the way" while it rained
Thursday and earlier Friday.  "Besides," he quipped, "you don't have
video games like my aunt does."

But I had to risk upsetting him again:  "I was just leaving."

"Aw...Can't you stay over tonight?"

"Well, I'll ask my parents."

"How will I know?"

"What's your aunt's number.  I'll call."  (My all-nighters at the lake
are very infrequent 'cause mom's breakfasts are the best.)

My folks said I could stay.  I called and told him so.  I said I'd
return around 8:30.  And he was there waiting.

"Let's watch the game," he piped.  So I got that channel on TV.  But,
when it ceased being close, he asked if I had any porn.

I had reservations about sharing THAT with a 13-year-old, so I said, "I
don't even have a VCR."

"I know that.  I mean mags.  Playboy.  Penthouse.  Hustler."

I DID have a stash hidden in my room.  Finally I sighed and went to get
them.  His catch was good when I tossed them to him.  And his
voraciousness as he turned the pages reminded me of my own zeal while
looking at them.

"I'm gonna sleep in here?"  He pointed to the bedroom behind the stuffed
chair he was sitting in.

"Yup.  That's yours."

"I think I'll read these in my room."  And he stood up, his cut-off
sweats unable to hide his hard-on.  Then I heard a flop onto the bed.

As small as the cottage is, there are, nevertheless, privacy partitions
that don't go all the way up to the ceiling, separating the bedrooms
from each other and them from the rest of the place.  Although I
couldn't SEE what he was doing, I could HEAR him flipping through the
magazines and the frequent squeaking of the bed-springs.

There WAS one outside window where I COULD peek into his room.  So I
tip-toed quietly out of the cabin to play voyeur.  Did I get an eyeful!
He had removed all of his clothes as he glanced at the magazines.  His
bare butt rose and fell as he ground his front into the bedding while he
scanned the pages.

Next, he rolled over and displayed his stiffening prick, which he began
jerking affectinately.  This was getting ME hot, and my own
blood-engorged tool poked its head out of the right leg of my gym
shorts, unrestrained because of my lack of jockeys.  I was amused by him
trying to look at the magazines while he was on his back.

Finally, he lowered the materials, closed his eyes, and concentrated
solely on whacking himself off.  It was clear when he got close.  His
young legs stiffened.  His face grimaced.  Then his first spurt flew up
to his left shoulder.  He ejaculated a second and a third time onto his
smooth chest - between his nipples and his "outie."  The rest just
streamed from his piss slit, down his shaft, and into his sparse pubes.
What a sight!  What a mess!

I probably spied longer that I should have.  But I wanted to see how he
was gonna clean all this up.  Leave it to Vinnie!  He knew that there
was a box of tissues next to the bed.  At first he just laid there with
gobs of cum everywhere.  After about a minute, though, one of the spooge
puddles started trickling down his left side toward the bedding,
whereupon he quickly grabbed the tissues, saturating them by dabbing
into the ponds of jizz.

Fortunately, there was so much to wipe up that I was able to hastily but
noiselessly return to the couch before the spill was mopped away.

The post-game show was on TV and I announced that I was going to change
to the channel which has The Tonight Show.  Still hearing nothing, my
next announcement was that I was going to bed.

I always sleep naked and tonight was no exception. It was warm enough
that I used the covers only as something to throw my bare leg over.  I
kept remembering the sights of the past hour and THAT made me hard.  The
most comfortable position, I found, was with one leg bent up over my
erection, which pointed downward between my legs toward the bottom of
the bed.

I had left the TV on and was vaguely conscious of a shape which had
replaced me on the couch, from where you CAN see into my room.  I must
have looked inviting, with my pecker extending out from under my nude,
upturned ass, because the next thing I felt was Vinnie's stiff,
uncovered dick poking me in the side.

He reached under me to grab my package but I made it easier for him by
rolling over onto my back so that my dork strained flat to my stomach.
Some liquid was already starting to seep out from my tip, so, his
jerking of my cock was with a minimum of dry friction because of the
lubricating effect of my pre-cum.  And it was with a minimum of time
that I  orgasmed.

I tried to limit my reactions because I didn't want this to become
all-night sex.  But it felt soooo good.

Finally I succumbed.  A wad goes onto the right side of my face;
followed by three more around my right tit; two below my belly-button;
and a handful for Vinnie and my thin blond pubes.

I pretended being only semi-awake.  So Vinnie cleaned me up much as he
had done to himself ninety minutes earlier:  Soaking tissues from a box
in my room with my juices and tossing them into the wastebasket in my
room.

I think he was proud of himself when he returned to his room.  The
squeakng of his bed-springs, though, signified that he did NOT go
directly to sleep.

The next morning, I got mine when he declined my fixing breakfast.  "I
wanna be there when dad arrives."

"That's it," I thought.  "But that was quite memorable!"

A couple of hours later, the cabin's phone rang and it was Vinnie  "How
'bout supper at my aunt's tonight at six?"

"I'll run this by my folks and call you from their house."  So, I put in
an appearance early Saturday afternoon at mom's and dad's.  They wanted
me to join them at a restaurant Saturday evening.  But they said that I
could go to Vinnie's aunt's instead.

"I suppose you wanna stay at the lake again tonight, too," dad guessed.

I actually hadn't thought that far ahead.  But it sounded like a good
idea, so I asked if that was okay.

"All right," was his stern reply, "but Sunday night you're back here."

"You bet."

I had previously met Vinnie's aunt and uncle.  But, by 6:15, I had also
been introduced to his mom, dad, and little sister.

"I'm an only-brat," I declared.  And then, "I met your niece, Kim, last
month."

The evening progressed smoothly, although the fish that Vinnie and his
dad had caught from the lake earlier that afternoon did not make for my
favorite supper.

"Can I stay at Clark's tonight?" Vinnie asked around 8:30.  The previous
night, his aunt and uncle had authorized the sleepover.  NOW he was
asking his folks.  Clever.

"Is Clark gonna stay?  Is it okay with him?"

"Yes on both counts."

"Well, we'll see you in the morning, then.  Get what you need and you
two can walk to his place before it gets any darker."

I thanked them for the supper and off to my cabin we went.

"There's a game on again tonight," he said.  So we hurried to the tube.

"You know, we can watch the game from the couch."

"Oooh.  That'll be cozy.  Isn't it kinda small for the two of us?"

"No.  It unfolds into a bed.  One of the first."

"Cool."

So there we are.  Shirtless and barefoot.  All kinds of comfortable.
Side by side, watching the game, producing fish burps.

The discussion which followed centered on pubes.  I don't know HOW we
got onto THAT subject.  But he says, "I got so few, I couldn't even comb
'em."

"And I'm blond, so I couldn't comb mine, either."

"Betcha could."

"Don't think so."

"Got a comb?"

I got one fom the bathroom and he began undoing my jeans.  I helped him
get them - and my skivvies - off by raising my butt and I was naked.

"See.  Just like this."  And he began running the comb through my pubic
hair.

I tried to pay attention to the game but his combing made my willie rise
to attention.  "Let me try you."  And there were two nude bodies on the
sofa-bed.

He was right!  He didn't have much to comb.  But his erect boyhood was
substantial!

Finding little to comb, I dropped it and he began using it again.  He
rested his head closer to my organ and said, "Back home, we put our
mouths on each other."

I pretended to be watching the game and said nothing, until..."Go ahead,
if you want to."

I twitched when some spit drooled down upon my schwantz, followed by a
pair of warm, talented lips.  No teeth.  How DID he know how to do this
so well?  Up and down; up and down he sloshed.  When his warm, moist
mouth wasn't moving, his saliva-filled right hand was.  Keeping up with
the game was futile.  I closed my eyes and focused on the pleasure at my
prick.  My butt-cheeks clenched in time with the deep-throating of my
member.  My pelvis rose when his hand slid down.  I couldn't do this
much longer.  Wham!  I didn't even warn him when I let loose, although I
guess it wouldn't have mattered.  Although what was happening to me was
so very intense, Vinnie did not slow his motions.  He knew I was cumming
but was willing to swallow it all.  I'm sure it wasn't easy to cope with
my convulsions.  It was great!  And I told him so.  It was
breath-taking!  "What can I do for you?  Whatever you want.  Just name
it."

"Do it to my ass."

"What?"  It wasn't so much that I hadn't heard him.  I simply couldn't
imagine that having something up your butt was pleasureable.

"Lemme have it," he repeated.

"I don't know if I can get it hard again."  (But, as they say, it was
fun trying.  And, of course, the attempt was successful.)  He was used
to having other 13-year-old cocks up his ass.  My 17-year-old equipment
didn't go in as easily.  "Doesn't that hurt?"

"It'll go in if I relax."

We first tried it with him on his back and his legs over my shoulders.
That seemed to make him uncomfortable.  (Maybe because I could see his
face contort.  But I COULD play with his dick really well that way.)
The best position for my little friend was, what I guess they call
"doggie style":  With him on his hands and knees and me sticking my meat
into him from behind him.  This way I was able to enter him, assisted by
my spitting down onto my thing to lubricate it when necessary.

I had just cum, so I could do this for a long time (or so I thought.)
As long as it made HIM feel good.  So I pushed in and pulled out; pushed
in and pulled out; drooling down every so often.  He was actually
getting off on this!

He guided my hand around him to grab onto his hardened dick.  Oh, I see.
Jerk him off while he gets his ass fucked.  Duh.  Oh well, I'm blond.
Now I get it.

So my thrusting combines with his stabbing into my fist.  This is too
much!  Just when I think I could do this all night, he starts to spasm.
And I start to notice the warmth around my cock.  Out flies his cum.
Blast follows blast.  But good ol' me:  I continued jerking and plunging
into his rear, not stopping for a second.  I even heard his jizz splash
onto the cushion louder than the sound of the TV.

But what's this?  In addition to the frenzy under me, I feel myself
exploding into his poop chute, which weakens me onto his back.  Then we
collapsed into - and splattered - his spunk on the mattress and lay
there, exhausted, for many minutes.

Fortunately, we were able to take the cover off of the cushion and I
intend to wash it.  The numerous wet spots that soaked through, will dry
such that staining and smelling should be minimal (I hope.)

But Vinnie!  Vinnie looked like he had spilled a full bottle on him -
totally shiny and all!

I led him to the bathroom.  And, after I adjusted the water temperaure,
I pulled him into the shower.  Now, I know that while describing another
escapade I said that there wasn't room for more than one person in the
shower.  But Vinnie and I pulled it off (showering together, that is.)
We had to be extremely close.  But that was okay.  We barely had enough
room to wash each other and turn around.  The running water and
soapiness, though, made our bodies slippery and, actually, pleasant when
we frequently rubbed against one another.  However, that only increased
the poking that occurred.

I got my rocks off twice in the past hour, and Vinnie just had a
monstrous orgasm.  But we were both STILL HARD!  We squeezed carefully
out of the stall, dried ourselves, and followed our pointed dicks onto
the porch which extended over the lake.

"How deep is it here?"

"The porch sits on a wall that goes straight down under the water about
four feet."

"I wonder if fish like sperm?"  And he then began jerkng off, aiming
toward the water.

Needing to attend to my own erection, I began whackng off, too.

I thought he turned stupid on me when he said, "You know what happens
when you keep doing this."  (Sounded like something the blond should've
said.)  Then, "Let's see who shoots first."

I was the "winner".  I unloaded first.  It was every bit as intense.  I
even giggled at my loss of balance as I shook with my release.  But very
little liquid dribbled out.

"That's all?" he questioned.  Then he trembled, stuck his midsection
forward, and his own modest spurts flowed forth.  "Guess I'm mostly
dried up, too.  Hope the fish weren't TOO hungry."

"I'm done," I panted.  "I think the word is 'spent'."

"Me too," Vinnie echoed.

We were so worn out that we didn't even share the same bed.

Kim is the only morning-sex person I know.  So I wasn't surprised Sunday
A M when a subdued Vinnie didn't even accept my breakfast invitation
again.

I stayed long enough to see Vinnie and his father out in the boat, doing
some last-minute fishing, saddened at the thought of him leaving later
that day, but looking forward to his next time at the lake.


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POST SCRIPT - Maybe it's just my young age, but I don't know the answers
to these questions:
(1) What are "flames"?  (which are referred to in remarks I've seen
around other stories); and
(2) Is getting stuff copyrighted a big deal?  And how important are
those disclaimers before stories?  (If they're all worded so
differently, can they really be all that important.)
(I could probably find these answers elsewhere on the net but I'll opt
for the personalization that might happen this way.  I might also get
these answers from "chatting", too, but I type so slowly that I don't
engage in that activity, although I've been told that typing is "good
therapy."  Try telling that to a secretary.)
And one last thing - I really don't know who these "Nifty Archive"
people are.  But, I take it that they're looking for financial support
from frequent readers of the site, so I hope that happens.


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