Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2006 02:08:46 EDT
From: Chetnadelphi22@aol.com
Subject: The Smile

This is a work of fiction and the usual disclaimers apply. If you shouldn't
be here go somewhere else.

If you wish to make comments contact me on: chetnadelphi22@aol.com
I would enjoy your comments and happily quench all flames.

This is the second time this story has been published, appearing early this
year on `Johnnie Proudly Presents' website. I retain the copyright.


The Smile

By

TheIndigoIndian


`Come on! Let me look!' I said, desperate to see.

`No way!' he replied in an offhand manner, designed to put me off without
offering complete rejection. In his voice, I detected a note of indecision
and wanted to exploit that.

`You saw mine, it isn't fair! C'mon, now it's my turn'.

He just giggled in his alto, husky, pubescent voice. `That was your own
fault. You shouldn't have had your shorts down. Anyway, it's huge!' he
said, his words distorted by more giggles, `And it's hard'. By now his
voice and howls were muffled as he buried his hooting face into the pillow,
curling his knees to his chest.

A few minutes before, he had unexpectedly whipped back my sleeping bag to
reveal my naked body, shorts pulled down to knees, and my cock hard and
buried within my hand. In the twilight within the small, two-man tent, and
concealed beneath my hand, he probably hadn't seen my pubes. I was proud of
them: full blown pubes and there for the last 8 months or so.

I had been surprised by his action but I wasn't bothered by it. I was sure
he was just as hard too. We had spent the last hour lying in the tent
talking about cocks, pussy (for all I knew of the subject!), wanking,
sucking, spunk and the plethora of things that, as a boy, you can do and
have done to you.

As I talked I found he had been innocent of masturbation and love-juice but
had seen discarded glossies and knew what an open pussy looked like. He had
a better knowledge than me, but I couldn't let him know that. With my
two-year superiority over his eleven, I couldn't let him know that.

`C'mon, I'll let you see mine again, and you can deck my pubes as
well'. His head whipped round from the pillow, interest lighting his eyes,
but he wasn't ready to give in yet. `Ok, but you show yours first'.

I had no problem with that. I wanted him to see it; to hold it; to play
with it and I wanted to do the same to his. I hadn't yet seen it
completely. Oh, sure, I had seen him pissing, arcing his stream into next
door's garden, standing next to me, and the little reddened, wrinkled skin
on the end curving down like a comma as he finished shaking it off, but his
hand had covered most of it and I couldn't estimate its size or what it
would look like hard.

He had only moved next door a month ago and it had taken that long for
spring to finish and shift into early summer before my plans to take him
camping would be permitted. Even then, this first time, we were only in his
back garden. Our tent was sited close to the woods, as far from the house
as possible.


I slowly eased back the sleeping bag as he sat up to get a better view. I
was on my back but supporting myself with one elbow. This time, my free
hand wasn't on my tool and, as it came into view, jumping as the nylon
material slid across it, he gasped.

`Wow, look at that!' he said as his hand reached across in an automatic
reaction. He wanted to touch, I could tell, but the hand stopped moving
with a jerk as he pulled back.

`You can touch it if you want', I said.

His chin lifted as his eyes looked into mine.

His hand reached across.

As his fingers came into contact with me, barely brushing me, my knob
lurched and he pulled back his hand as though it had bitten him. `Come on',
I said, `Yours now'.

He looked decidedly uncomfortable but eased his sleeping bag down and then
laid himself back down. He hooked a hand into his y-fronts and jerked them
down. I got a bare, fleeting glimpse of what seemed to be a nicely sized,
plump and erect `peter' before he instantly jerked them back up again,
laughing at his own cunning plan.

`That's not fair!' I blurted out as he continued to laugh. He was full of
wiles and guiles, this one and I knew I would have to change tack. `You've
seen mine twice now and for much longer'. I heard the whine in my voice and
hearing it, knew it wouldn't work with him. He never responded well to my
pleading but I knew of another way.

`Come on! I'll challenge you to a game of Cut'. The game, invented by me
just moments before and born of desperation, consisted of each of us
cutting the deck of cards. `Ace is high, highest wins and the lowest takes
off a piece of clothing', I said to him, appreciating the torch-lit sparkle
in his eye as he considered it. I knew he wanted this just as much as I
did. I also knew he didn't know how much he wanted it; no experience, you
see.

His eyes were extremely attractive to me; deep pools filled with different
shines and sparklings according to his mood and the ambient light. The
lashes were incredibly long and lushly thick, perfectly finishing off his
radiant face and giving it a slightly girlish turn. His mouth was equally
perfect and always seemed to smile; a quality I loved in him. I desperately
wanted to see that smile in the aftermath of a shuddering orgasm reached
beneath my hands.

He came to his decision and nodded agreement. Without asking about terms
and conditions (I didn't want any of this "Just down to underpants" crap)
he reached behind him for the cards, placed them between us and cut them at
about the 30% mark. He hid his mouth behind the cut deck and his enveloping
hand but I could see the smile in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. I
knew his card was hot.

I made my own cut and smiled myself as the Ace of Hearts appeared before
me. `Ace!' I jubilantly exulted. He looked crestfallen and said quietly,
`Queen'.

`Off, off, off', I chanted but he had forestalled me and was already
pulling his t-shirt over his head revealing his taut torso beneath his
white vest. He shivered briefly as the night air caressed his bare
skin. `You go first now', he said, falteringly shuffling the pack and
placing it down between us again.

I cut and saw the black Two but kept my poker face switched on. It didn't
make any difference because as he cut, I saw the victory in his eyes. He
had pulled another good card. `Two of Spades', I mumbled and he was
yelping, `Gerermoff!' like a veteran before my words were out. It seemed he
had played this game before. I pulled off my own t-shirt but, unlike him,
no vest marred my slim contours. I shuffled the cards this time in the hope
of breaking his luck. It must have worked because his seven lost to my nine
and a sock appeared in his hand as if by magic.

He twirled it round above us in a parody of a stripper's bump'n'grind. I
laughed at the idea and revelled in the sight of him now out of his
sleeping bag and wearing only his undies and vest and one sock. Two down
and three to go, I thought. As for me, I had the same number; my sleeping
shorts and both my socks.

His remaining sock went the way of the first in the next round and
subsequently I lost both my socks, not bothering to twirl them, eager to
get him and me naked. His vest came off slowly following the next cut in
which his Jack was only just beaten by my Queen.

He looked fabulous in only his jocks; 100% boy, but, look as I might, I
couldn't detect any hardness, only soft, rounded pouchiness that I wanted
to sink my fingers into until the roundness was replaced by protuberance.

This was the one. The deciding cut. One of us would now get naked.

He cut first.

His transparent face told me he had a good card.

I reached down and, praying to the God of desires, cut without looking.

`What've you got?' I asked, still not knowing what my card was.

`A King', he replied, beaming.

I finally looked at my own cut; also a King. `Me too!' the words just shot
out, `We both have to strip'.

I expected him to object, call it a draw and to demand a new cut, but he
just smiled and said `Ok', and without another thought whisked off his
y-fronts. I copied him, my half-hard knob flopping about as it caught on
the elastic waist of my shorts.

He looked at me and I looked at him. As I watched his tool started to grow
to match my own swelling erection. From lying on his balls and thigh, it
swung around as it filled with blood until finally it stood proud of his
belly pointing up towards the ridge of the tent. The loose skin on the end
was slightly pulled back but his head was still completely covered. His
ball bag was full and distended, telling me that puberty was under way even
though there was not a hair in sight. I would have to take care in case his
balls were tender.

I gasped in surprise as he reached his hand across and gripped me, hard. I
reached over and took him in my own hand, easing the skin back and
revealing a beautifully-shaped helmet, slick and slippery from its
covering. His own gasp matched mine.

Still not a word was spoken.

We both started the old up'n'down action at the same time. Both of us
wanted this and, not wanting to waste time discussing, just carried on
without a word. His hand on my cock felt really good as though this kid,
whose knowledge of wanking was non-existent until a short while ago, had
been practising for years. He kept rubbing his thumb on the top of my cock
sending thrills down into my nuts.

He broke the silence with, `How will I know when I am coming? Will it spunk
up?'

`I don't think so', I told him, `but you'll get the feeling like you need a
piss badly. Then you'll feel something like a tingling in your balls and
inside. Then, it gets really good, you feel like something is shooting out
of your dick but it makes you feel fantastic'.

I made him lay down so that he could get the full benefit of both my
hands. As one gently wanked him, the other rolled his balls around and felt
beneath them. His cock was quite big on such a small kid and my hand was
enjoying its length and silky, velvet, yet iron-hard feel.

He suddenly stiffened and said, `Oh shit, I think I'm going to pee, it
feels funny'.

`Its Ok', I said, continuing my actions. `You're starting to come. No piss
will come out, just spunk if your making any'.

His eyes opened and closed two or three times then his body started to
shake. `Waahhh', he cried quietly, his eyes open and staring -- beyond
words. I felt it then; his dick jumped within my fingers and pulsed and
pulsed and pulsed again. There was no piss, no spunk.

It sounded as though he was half laughing and half crying when he suddenly
curled into a ball as the sensitivity hit him. My hand stopped moving and
just held him there, still rock hard, until even that was too much and he
pushed me away, breathing the word, `fantastic', over and over again. A
sheen of sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead, despite the chill
air.

After a few seconds he raised himself up and at last I could see the smile
I had wanted to see. It had obviously been a great first time.

He pushed me back down and took me in his hand again. `I want to see
spunk', he said, his hand moving professionally on me.

It took me only a few seconds for his own coming had raised my level of
excitement almost to the point of automatic ejaculation.

I erupted.

Hard.

My jets of spunk laid a broken trail from my cheeks to my pubes as I came
in a mind-blowing welter of gobbets.

I laid still, slowly returning from 40,000 metres and turned to look into
the face of this boy who had just created something amazing in me.

He was still smiling the smile.