RUSTY'S HOUSE
by Walt

Rusty's House - Part One

     I remember when I was eleven years old I spent the night at my friend
Rusty's house.  I guess he was
eleven also, since we were both in the Sixth Grade.  Rusty wasn't in my
class, but I knew him from the 
neighborhood.  His father worked as an "assistant manager" at our community
swimming pool, which meant 
that he was the custodian.  Rusty's mom hardly ever left the house.  I
later learned that she was mentally ill 
and was on anti-psychotic medication.  At the time, I just thought she was
very shy.  She was nice to me 
when I visited, but she didn't speak very much at all.
     Shyness was certainly not a trait which Rusty inherited.  He was
always very opinionated and never 
seemed to be reluctant to express his ideas.  Unfortunately, I guess most
other kids our age didn't share 
many of those opinions, because Rusty didn't have many friends.  I think he
came on a little too strong, and 
his attitude (which I suppose could have been interpreted as arrogance)
probably put a lot of people off.  
There were times, in fact, when I felt kind of embarrassed being with him. 
He just said and did things which 
were inappropriate at times.  For example, once when we went to the beach
together, we decided we'd try 
the sauna at the hotel where we were staying.  Everybody in there (all
adults, except for us) was wearing 
either a towel or a bathing suit, but Rusty decided to "go natural."  He
said he read that that was how you 
were supposed to be when you were in a sauna.  I felt too weird about it,
and I kept my bathing suit on.  
Nobody else in there seemed to have a problem with Rusty's nudity, but it
embarrassed the hell out of me.  
This incident, of course, should have given me a clue about Rusty, but at
the time I didn't perceive it as 
anything but an embarrassing moment.
     Anyway, back to that night when I slept over at Rusty's house.  I
think it was about six months after 
that time we went to the beach.  I remember that it was a freezing cold
night, and it had snowed earlier that 
day.  We had eaten dinner at my house, and then we walked through the snowy
streets the 3 or 4 blocks to 
where Rusty lived.  His mom and dad were in the living room, watching TV. 
I got the feeling they did a lot of 
that.  They told us that we could play in Rusty's room for a little while,
but that we should get to bed in about 
an hour since we were probably exhausted after sledding all day.  Rusty
said OK, and then showed me his 
room up on the 3rd. floor.  It was one of those bedroom lofts which had
been converted from an old attic, so 
he had the entire floor to himself.  His mom (actually, it was probably his
dad) had already made up the 
second bed, which was across the small room from Rusty's.  The roof sloped
down on both ends of the room 
almost to the floor, and along the back wall, next to the dresser, was a
shelf full of beer cans.  Rusty told me 
he had over 150, all from different countries around the world.  Of course,
none of them had beer in them, but 
the ones he was displaying on the shelf were all in pretty good shape. 
There was also the usual assortment 
of stuff you'd expect to find in an eleven year old boy's bedroom: sports
posters, old board games, and  a few 
action figures.  After showing me his beer can collection (he had more in
boxes in his closet), Rusty sat down 
on his bed and said, "I challenge you to a staring contest."
     "OK," I replied, sitting down on my bed opposite him.  For some
reason, Rusty always liked to "dare" people 
to do things.  It wasn't so much competitiveness as just a desire to get
people to do things they wouldn't ordinarily 
do.  So we sat across from each other and stared.  Rusty, as his nickname
implies, was a redhead.  He always 
wore his hair in a sort of "Prince Valiant" bowl-cut style, only long in
the back.  His face was covered with 
reddish-brown freckles, and he had light blue eyes.  He looked cute wen he
smiled -- his teeth were perfectly 
white but with a gap between the front two -- but he was concentrating with
deadly seriousness on not doing 
that.  He was staring directly into my hazel eyes.  I had long hair then,
light brown and kind of wavy, and it was 
always getting in my face and covering my eyes.  I shook my head a little
bit to clear my hair out of the way, but 
it only made it worse.  After a couple of seconds, I couldn't help but
blink and giggle.
     "I win," exclaimed Rusty, "you have to take off all of your clothes!"
     "What?  We never said anything about that!"
     "I know, I'm just kidding.  But have you ever played strip poker?"
     "No, but I know how to play poker."
     "So let's play."
     "OK," I replied, "what should we play for, pennies?"
     "No, I mean let's play strip poker."
     "Um, I don't know.  Aren't you supposed to play that with girls?"
     "Yeah, but there aren't any here.  Anyway, it'll still be fun.  Come
on, I dare you."
     "Well, OK... I guess."
     So Rusty got out a deck of cards from one of his drawers, shuffled it,
and dealt out 5 cards each.  We sat on the floor, 
between the 2 beds, and played poker.  Rusty lost the first hand, and I
looked up at him with an expression like, "so what 
happens now?" on my face.  He pulled off the sweater he was wearing, and
told me to deal the next hand.  I did, and he 
lost again.  This time, he took off his plaid button-down shirt. 
Underneath, he was wearing a white Hanes V-neck undershirt.  
I lost the next hand, and opted for a shoe.  When I lost the hand after
that, I took off the other shoe.  So I was sitting on the 
floor in my stocking feet, and Rusty in a white undershirt, when Rusty
proclaimed, "I've got an idea.  Instead of taking our 
own clothes off whenever we lose a hand, let's make it so the other guy has
to do it."
     "What, you mean the winner has to strip?  That doesn't make sense."
     "No, I mean the winner takes the loser's clothes off.  And the winner
gets to decide which piece of clothing he wants to 
strip off of the other guy, so long as he can get to it."
     "OK, why not?" I replied.  I was already getting used to the idea of
strip poker, and this might make it even more 
interesting.  Rusty dealt another hand, and lost.  I felt kind of funny
about pulling his undershirt off, so I untied one of 
his shoes and removed it instead.  The next hand I lost, and Rusty grabbed
my right ankle with one hand and with 
the other pulled the sock off my foot.  He stared at the sole of my foot
for a second, and then let go of my leg and 
dealt another hand.  I lost that one as well, and put out my left foot.  He
didn't go for that, however, or for the next 
most obvious choice -- my sweater.  Instead, he reached across to my waist
and began unbuckling my jeans.
     "Hey, no fair!  I still have another sock and my sweater and shirt and
stuff," I exclaimed.
     "So?  We said the winner gets to choose any piece of clothing he can
get to.  And I choose your pants."
     "OK, whatever."
Rusty finished unbuckling and then slowly unzipping my pants, and then he
held them by the belt loops and began 
pulling them down.  I lifted by backside up a little so they'd come free,
and then suddently my jeans were all the way 
down my legs and then on the floor across from me.  I felt pretty
embarrassed sitting there on the floor in Rusty's 
room in my underpants and wearing only one sock, but I figured I'd get even
pretty soon.  Besides, it was kind of 
exciting also.  Rusty didn't say anything, but he was very openly (and
quite intently) staring at my penis, which 
was beginning to stiffen inside my underpants.  I pretended that I didn't
notice it, and dealt the cards.  Rusty lost 
the next hand, and this time I didn't hesitate to take off his undershirt. 
I just reached up the sides under the shirt, 
my fingers sliding up into his armpits, and then pulled upward.  Rusty
lifted his arms to make it easier for me, and 
the undershirt came right off.  He had almost as many freckles on his chest
as he did on his face, but they stopped 
just about an inch below his little nipples.  Rusty was one of the few kids
in our neighborhood who was even skinnier 
than I was, and kids all thought I was a beanpole.  I could see his collar
bones and ribs prettly clearly, and also 
noticed that he was an "outtie."  I'm an "innie," myself.
     Anyway, the game went on, and I lost my shirt, undershirt, and other
sock.  Rusty lost his pants pretty quickly 
(I said that I'd get even with him), along with his shoes and socks.  So
now we were both sitting there on the floor in 
our underpants, wearing nothing else.  
     "Well," I suggested, "should we call it a game?"
     "No way!  We're not done yet."
     "Um, I don't know... "
Looking at Rusty's groin area, I could tell that he was very excited about
finishing the game.  In truth, so was I -- and 
Rusty knew it.
     "But what if your parents come up here?" I asked, worriedly.
     "They never do.  My mom just stays downstairs and watches TV all
night, and my dad usually falls asleep on 
the sofa next to her.  they wake up in the middle of the night and head
straight to bed.  They never come up here 
unless I make a whole lot of noise or yell or something."
     "Oh, OK.  Well... I guess, deal the cards."
He did, and I lost.  Rusty just looked at me and smiled for a couple of
seconds, and then said, "Stand up."  I did, 
and expected him to pull my underpants down in the same manner as he did my
jeans.  However, instead of pulling 
at them from the waistband, he slid his right hand up the inside of my
thight all the way to where the elastic legband 
of my underpants pressed into my groin.  He then surprised the hell out of
me by reaching inside and grasping the 
elastic of both legs.  He clutched the underside of my underpants that way,
with his knuckles rubbing against my 
scrotum, and then slowly pulled down.  The underpants slid down over my
hips, down my thighs, and ultimately 
onto the floor.  I stepped out of them and just stood there, naked as a
jaybird, looking at the wall across the room.  
My penis was pointing in that direction as well.
     "OK," Rusty said, "now we can call it a game.  Do mine so we can be
even."
As I've said, Rusty wasn't so much concerned with competition as he was
with getting people to do new and 
interesting things.  So, I told him to stand up and I then slowly removed
his underpants just as he had done mine.  
Beneath them there awaited quite a surprise.  His penis, although about the
same size as mine and just as stiff, 
had an extra layer of skin on it.  I later learned that this is what men
(well, boys) who have not been circumcized 
look like.  At the time, I just thought it was "cool."  Actually, I figured
it was somehow related to his being a redhead, 
although that never did make much sense.
     Rusty sat down on his bed and started looking through some hot-rod
magazines he had lying around.  He asked 
me to sit next to him and look with him, which I did.  After awhile, the
novelty of being naked with another kid began 
to wear off, and my penis gradually shrank back down to its ordinary state.
 Rusty's, however, did not (unless a 
perpetual hard-on was his ordinary state).  Finally, it got late and I
suggested we go to bed.  Rusty agreed, and 
put on his pajamas.  While I was doing the same, he went downstairs to the
2nd. story bathroom to wash up 
and brush his teeth.  When he came back upstairs, I went down to wash up
for bed also.  While I was in the 
bathroom, I could hear the downstairs TV, but nobody talking.  Rusty was
right; his parents were just spacing 
out or sleeping on the sofa in front of the television.  Whatever.
     When I went back up to Rusty's 3rd. story bedroom, I found him lying
in bed on his stomach, stark naked, 
with the bedding all pulled down.  At his point, I was beginning to think
that Rusty was a little too weird for me; 
but at the same time, I felt kind of nervous and excited.  I said "good
night," got into my bed, and turned out 
the overhead light.  There was just the soft amber light of a rather large
glow-in-the-dark clock illuminating the 
room, but after awhile my eyes adjusted to it and I could see Rusty lying
in his bed across from me.  He must 
have known that I was still awake, because he said in a soft voice, "why
don't you take your pajamas off and 
come over here."  I thought about pretending to be asleep and ignoring his
invitation, but not for very long.  My 
penis got hard again as I quickly shucked off my pajamas and underpants and
stepped out of bed.  Rusty said, 
"I dare you to lie down on top of my back, face down."
     "OK," I responded, and did as I was dared to do.  I lay down on top of
Rusty so that my nose and chin were 
rubbing against the back of his head.  My stomach was pressed into the
small of his back, and my legs straddled 
his.  I could feel my erect penis pressing into the crack between Rusty's
butttocks, and I could smell the shampoo 
which he used to wash his hair.  When I got a strand of his hair in my
mouth, I turned my head sideways so that 
our ears were pressing against each other.  We lay that way for a few
minutes, and then Rusty said, "Let's play 
Dares."
     "What's that?" I asked, rolling off of him and sitting up on the edge
of the bed.  Rusty sat up and explained:
      "It's where we each take turns doing something, and the other person
has to copy it.  For instance, if I start 
by sticking my finger in my nose, then you have to stick your finger in
your nose.  Then it's your turn to think of 
something.  You wanna play?"
     "Yeah, sure."
     "OK, you start."
I couldn't think of anything more creative than what he had suggested, so I
stuck my index finger about a quarter 
of the way inside my left nostril and made a silly face.  Rusty accepted
that first move by doing the exact same 
thing.  Then, it was his turn.  Before I realized what he was going to do,
Rusty reached over and slid the tip of his 
other index finger into my nose.  He did it gently, and pushed it in about
an inch and held it there.  Then, he pulled 
his finger out of my nostril and licked it clean.  When he was done, he
looked at me expectantly and tilted his head 
back.  I had no choice; I was in the game.  I leaned forward and pushed my
index finger into Rusty's left nostril.  I 
gently pushed it in up to the 2nd. knuckle, then held it there while I
stared into his eyes.  After a couple of seconds, 
I pulled my finger out and quickly stuck it in my mouth, before I had the
chance to think too much about it.  It had a 
slightly salty taste, but it didn't gross me out the way I would have
expected it to.  When I had finished that, it was 
my turn to think up something.  I grabbed Rusty's head, pushed his red hair
back out of the way, and then suck my 
tongue into his right ear.  There was the slightly bitter taste of ear wax,
and I licked all around his ear lobe and the 
top part of his ear.  He then did the same to my right ear, which felt
better than I could have imagined.  When he was 
done, he paused for a few seconds to think up his next move.  Then, with no
warning, he grabbed my right ankle and 
pulled my foot up to his face.  He opened his mouth up wide, and wrapped
his lips around the front part of my right foot.  
I could feel his tongue pressing up between my toes, and his lower teeth
scraping the ball of my foot.  Then, I felt him 
slide his tongue in and out between my toes, starting with my big toe and
moving to the right.  When he got to my little 
toe, he removed my foot from his mouth and began licking my sole with his
entire tongue.  When he was done licking 
my foot, he sat up straight and lifted his own right foot up onto my lap. 
I lifted it up and brought it toward my mouth.  I 
saw that his toenails were neatly trimmed, but that there was a little bit
of lint between his toes.  With my fingers, I 
gently pulled Rusty's toes apart and wiped away the sock fuzz, and then I
popped the entire front part of his foot into 
my mouth.  It tasted a little bit like my finger after it had been in his
nose -- kind of salty.  I pressed my tongue up 
between his toes, and licked the space between each one.  Then I took his
foot out of my mouth and began licking 
his sole.  As Rusty had done to me, I used my entire tongue.  When I had
finished, his whole foot was shining wet 
with my saliva, as my right foot still was with his.  I lay back on the bed
and thought up what I'd do next. When I'd 
figured it out, I told Rusty to lie down flat on his stomach.  Using the
thumb and 4 fingers of my left hand, I gently 
spread Rusty's buttocks apart so that I could see his anus.  I had examined
my own backside in the mirror many 
times, but I had never seen anybody else's.  Rusty's looked pretty much
like mine-- a sort of maroon-colored pucker 
of skin clenched tightly shut.  I leaned a little closer so that I could
sniff it; it smelled just like mine also.  Then I 
licked the index finger on my right hand and brought it down so that my wet
fingertip was pushing against Rusty's
anus.  I pushed and wiggled it, and my finger slid about an inch and a half
into his rectum.  It was very warm, and I 
could feel Rusty's pulse by pressing against one side of his rectum.  Then
I pulled my finger out and told Rusty to 
roll over onto his back so that he could see what I was going to do next. 
When he saw me put that finger which had 
just been up his backside into my mouth and suck on it, his eyes sort of
bulged.  I smiled, knowing that he'd have to 
do the same to me unless he wanted to quit the game.  I knew he'd never do
that, so I just lay right down on my 
stomach and waited.  I felt his hand on the small of my back, then felt it
slide down so that his fingers were resting 
on my buttocks.  He pried them apart as I had done his, and I could feel
the cool air blowing across my exposed 
anus.  Then I felt a wet finger press against the opening, and Rusty began
to push.  At first, he was pushing in the 
wrong place so he wasn't making any progress.  Then, he wiggled his
fingertip and I felt him penetrate.  I think he 
pushed his finger in farther than I had done with him, or maybe he just had
longer fingers.  I tried to relax my 
sphincter while his finger writhed around up there.  Finally, he pulled it
out and I rolled over onto my back to watch.  
He held that finger up to his nose first and inhaled deeply.  He grimaced
and wrinkled up his nose, but I think he 
was just as excited about tasting it as I was about watching him do it. 
After a second or two, he popped his finger 
into his mouth and sucked on it.  He nade a sort of goofy expression with
his eyes while he was licking his finger, 
and I couldn't help but laugh.  He started laughing also, and we both kind
of decided that the game had reached 
its conclusion.
     "Let me show you something," Rusty said as he jumped off the bed and
walked over to his dresser.  From the 
2nd. drawer, he pulled out a glittering baton sort of thing.
     "My parents bought it for me when I was really little.  When you turn
it upside down, all the little glitter flakes 
drift to the bottom.  Then you turn it over and they all drift down to the
other end."
     "Neat," I said, although I wasn't terribly impressed.  I think I had
seen one of those things before in a small 
gift shop once.  It didn't look all that interesting to me, but I supposed
it made a good baby toy.  The baton was 
about three quarters of an inch thick and almost 2 feet long, and it was
rounded at both ends, presumably so 
that a baby couldn't hurt himself with it.  It was made out of some sort of
strong, clear plexiglass or something.  
>From the same drawer, Rusty then pulled out a jar of Vaseline.  Now I knew
how he liked to play with this thing, 
and it instantly became a great deal more interesting to me.  I often did
the same thing in my own room late at 
night, but with a pencil and plain old spit.  This, however, was fatter
than any pencil.  I got really excited just
thinking about what we were going to do.
     Rusty opened the Vaseline jar and scooped out a lump with his finger. 
He spread it all over one end of the 
baton and about half way down the length of the thing.  He lay down on his
back, with his head on the pillow, 
and pulled his knees up to his chest.  I quickly moved around to the other
end of the bed so that I'd have a 
good view of him inserting this thing ino his backside.  And that's exactly
what he did.  First, I saw the tip of 
the baton enter him, and then when Rusty felt comfortable with it, he
pushed it in about 5 or 6 inches.  There 
were still about 18 inches of the baton sticking out, and Rusty grabbed
hold of it and began pushing it in and 
out of his rectum.  Then, with it still buried about 6 inches inside him,
he told me to get the Vaseline and 
spread it on the other end.
     "What for?" I asked.
     "So we can both have it in our butts at the same time," was the
obvious reply.  So I got the Vaseline and 
smeared a generous portion all over the end of the baton which was
protruding from Rusty's backside, and I 
rubbed it down the sides of the shaft also, all the way to where it
disappeared into Rusty's rectum.  I climbed 
up onto the bed, and got into a similar position to Rusty's, with my knees
up to my chest and the soles of 
my feet pressed right up against Rusty's.  Then, I rubbed my anus with my
fingers, which still had Vaseline 
on them, and grabbed the end of the baton.  I didn't want to pull it out of
Rusty, so I slid myself down to it 
nstead.  When I felt the tip of it pressing against my anus, I relaxed and
tossed my head back, staring at 
the ceiling.  Then I slowly but firmly pushed my backside forward while
holding the baton still.  It hurt for a 
few seconds when it penetrated me, but then the cramps stopped and it felt
pretty good.  I pushed myself 
up as far as I could, so that about 6 inches of the baton were buried in my
rectum, but then Rusty told me 
to slide back a little bit.  I moved back so that only one inch was in me,
and then Rusty said, "OK, don't 
move.  I'm going to squeeze it into you."  With that said, he began
straining and I felt the baton being pushed 
into my rectum, even though nobody was holding the thing with his hands. 
When he had pushed it as far 
into me as it could go (maybe 7 inches), he told me to pass it back to him
in the same manner.  I said OK, 
and began bearing down.  At first, it wouldn't move, but then Rusty shifted
position slightly and the baton 
was being squeezed out of my backside and into his.  When it wouldn't go
any further, I relaxed my 
muscles and prepared for Rusty to send it back into me.  We kept passing
the thing back and forth that 
way for a little while, and then our legs got tired.  With the baton still
firmly lodged in our backsides, we 
both gradually lowered our legs so that our feet were resting on each
other's chests.  This position caused 
the baton to press on my insides in a way which felt terrific.  I'd say
that it was rubbing my prostate, but I'm 
not actually certain whether 11-year-old boys even have prostate glands
yet.  In any event, if felt great, and 
at the same time, Rusty reached down between our legs and grasped my
stiffened penis with his right hand.  
With his left hand, he pulled my right foot up close to his face, and began
playing with my toes.  I did the 
same to him, which was easier since I think his legs were a little longer
than mine.  I also reached across 
his arm and down between his legs where I found his hard little penis
sticking straight up.  I gripped it 
between my thumb and first two fingers and began stroking up and down, just
as he was doing to mine.  It 
felt really good, and at the same time I wiggled my butt and could feel the
still lubricated baton end slip a 
fraction of an inch furher into my rectum.  I couldn't believe how good
this all felt.  I pulled Rusty's foot even 
closer to me, and started to lick the ball of his foot.  Just then, I felt
a warm wetness enfulf my big toe, and 
realized that Rusty had it in his mouth.  I slid my tongue into the space
between his big and second toes, 
and licked all around.  Then I opened my mouth wide and put all five toes
in.  Had I been a couple of years 
older, I am certain that this would have been the point at which I'd have
come.  However, as I was not yet 
able to do that, I just began shaking and twitching on the bed.  It was the
weirdest feeling -- kind of like 
when you feel the need to sneeze and begin the "ah...ah..." but never
actually sneeze.  It lasted a few 
seconds, and then I just relaxed and let Rusty's toes slip out of my mouth.
 Rusty must have felt something 
similar, since he also let go of my foot and pulled himself back so the the
baton slid completely out of his 
bottom.  He continued to hold onto my penis, but it began to tickle so I
asked him to let go.  Then I reached 
down and slowly pulled the baton out of my rectum.  I didn't want to look
at it, since I was afraid it would 
be covered with feces.  But as soon as it was all the way out, Rusty
grabbed hold of it and examined it 
closely.  It looked clean enough, except for the Vaseline, and Rusty then
held it up to his nose and took 
a deep sniff of the end I had just pulled out of myself.  I sniffed it
also, and smelled the familiar smell of 
my own butthole.  Then we turned it upside down and sniffed the other end. 
It smelled almost, but not 
exactly, the same.  Rusty then wiped the baton off with a paper towel from
a roll he kept under his bed, 
and put the baton back in the drawer.
     "Aren't you going to wash it?" I asked.
     "Yeah, later on," he replied.  I suppose he did this often enough
either by himself or maybe with other 
kids to have the routine down pretty well.

The End
(Stay tuned for Part Two)