Date: Wed, 2 Feb 2005 00:33:56 +0000 (GMT)
From: roy p...... <sunbeamtb@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: 'Tis better to give than receive

A little story of early learning.
William James Siviter (13) learns that he has things to give,
from his heart, and that giving gives him pleasure, pleasure that
costs nothing.
Richard Anthony Kirkland (14) learns that the pleasure of giving
is its own reward.


                'Tis better to give than receive


Billy Siviter rode his bike into the children's' play area in
Victoria Park, just five minutes ride from his house. He jumped
off it and had run half the way to the climbing frame before it
stopped rolling and hit the ground. He was there! His new friend
Rich had come and was waiting for him! He climbed up the frame
and sat on the top, alongside Rich, feeling really excited.
"Hi!" Billy said, "I knew you'd come!"
Richard Kirkland stopped picking the dirt from his fingernail and
stared at the horizon. "You're late." He said.
Billy looked at his watch. "Only a couple of minutes!" he
exclaimed."
"Ten Minutes." Rich said, still staring into the distance.
"Only eight!" Billy pleaded, holding his wrist and watch up to
Rich. "Really, look! Only eight minutes! I had to -"
"I don't want excuses. You said you'd be here at Eleven, and it's
gone ten past now. Anyone would think you weren't keen. Have you
brought it?"
"Yes." said a much quieter Billy. "Five pounds. I got it from my
Mum's purse this morning." He pulled a crumpled banknote from his
jeans front right pocket and held it up. Rich took it from him
and stowed it away in his own, same pocket.
"Come on then."
They climbed down off the frame and walked across the playground
towards the trees.
"Wait a minute!" shouted Billy, as he ran back towards his bike.
Rich stopped and waited for him to pick up the bike and wheel it
towards him. He turned and carried on walking. Billy caught him
up and walked alongside, wheeling the bike on their outside.
A couple of minutes later Rich turned off the muddy path between
two bushes, and Billy followed, forcing the bike through the
leafy branches.
"Leave it there!" Rich said sternly, "And come here!"
The bike stood where Billy let go of it, held by the branches.
Billy walked up to Rich, who put his left hand over Billy's
shoulder and round his neck, and pulled the two of them together.
Their lips met, lightly, then Rich pulled harder and the kiss
became much harder as Rich's right hand rubbed the front of
Billy's faded jeans. He rubbed the fabric up and down over the
harness trapped inside. Billy's right hand likewise rubbed Rich's
jeans, then his fingers unclipped the waistband button and slid
down the zip. His hand trembled slightly as it felt its way into
the gap and his fingers touched the hard tube inside, then bent
round it and lifted it out of the now-loose denim cloth. Billy
felt his heart beat, heavy and rhythmic, as his fingers slid the
loose skin up and down the tube, which felt hot and damp with
perspiration. He felt his own button being flipped undone and the
zip being lowered, then fingers surrounding his hard cock. It had
never felt so hard! He had played with it himself often, making
it give him the most exquisite feelings, but nothing like this!
He concentrated on the up and down motion the fingers were making
on it when he felt a tongue, Rich's tongue, worming its way
between his lips, parting his teeth, and touching his own, making
it flick over Rich's, the two tongues sliding round and over each
other.
Billy enjoyed this new feeling of another tongue in his mouth, a
strange and new wetness, a live thing with a different taste to
his own. Slowly the foreign trespasser left his mouth, the kiss
broke only to be momentarily remade twice with little kisses on
his lips, then away. Rich's left hand had moved down to his own
left shoulder, and it gently pulled on him, swinging him round
until they stood at ninety degrees to each other, Rich's right
hand crossing his own as both hands kept up the to and fro
rubbing on each others' cocks. Rich's motion went faster and
harder, moving the skin as far as it would go each way. Billy
stopped, his arm dropped to his side as he focussed entirely on
what he was feeling, a familiar sensation but a hundred times
better than he could do for himself.
Billy felt his legs tremble, then shake: his knees grew weak and
felt unable to keep locked: they bent as his trembling
overwhelmed his body. It was all he could do to remain standing,
but forced himself to, as a deep inner warmth flooded his body.
He felt the muscle deep in his groin, behind the base of his iron-
hard cock, as it clamped and twitched, beyond his control. He
held the deep breath he had taken as that muscle slammed shut,
then opened, and then slammed shut again, over and over. He
watched astounded as the thick jets of white liquid, ropes of
thick unrunny spunk as he'd been told it was called, shot from
the end of his hot, hard, supersensitive cock: they splashed onto
leaves and branches of bushes over six feet away. Some fell on
his bike and hung like grotesque oversize spider's silk hanging,
swaying, in the sunshine, in the slight breeze. The later shots
never made it that far: they fell to the ground, their colour
contrasting with the green grass or brown soil.
Billy exhaled at last, his breathing restarting with deep,
sharply taken lungfulls of air as the depth of his orgasm
overwhelmed him. He looked deep into Rich's eyes with a deep
love, but didn't see it in there coming back towards him.
"Finish me off!" instructed Rich, "you hot spunker!"
Billy regained enough composure to continue his duty to Rich,
and, motivated by the dirty complement he'd been paid, he moved
round to Rich's other side, took hold of the remaining hard cock
between them and rubbed it to and fro, back and forth, fast, as
Rich had done to him. He put all his effort into it: he had just
learned well from a good teacher. Rich leaned back on a tree, he
arched his body forward and let Billy work him right to the
point, he held back as much as he could, as much as his control
of the muscles would let him. He held it right to the point he
could hold no more, then shouted "Now!"
Billy pulled the cockskin back as hard as he could to Rich's body
as he'd told him to last time: Rich gasped "AAHHHHHHHH!" as he
let himself go and the stream shot from his cock and away, almost
as far as Billy's had. Three, four, five, six times it shot, each
time tensing his whole body as the internal pump he exercised so
often himself was pushed to its limit by the sensation of another
hand setting it off. Another hand was always better than his own.
He knew it'd always be like that, and as often as he could, he'd
get another hand to do it for him. A hand like that one. In fact
that actual hand.
They shook the remaining drops from their cocks, pulled their
jeans up and fastened them, then returned to the world through
the large-leafed branches, Billy dragging his bike backwards as
he followed his friend.
As they walked back to the playground Billy took hold of Rich's
hand, Rich looked at him, into his eyes. He saw what was there,
and felt it himself. It hurt. He held the hand tight.
They reached the railings surrounding the play area. "Swings?"
Asked Rich, "Or roundabout?"
"Neither." Said Billy, "I've got to get home."
"Oh. Tomorrow then?"
"O.K."
"Be here at Eleven then."
"Or thereabouts."
"O.K. A fiver again."
"I don't think so."
"Oh, O.K."
"See yer then!" and Billy was on his bike, and pedalling away.
"Don't be late!" shouted Rich after him.
I'll wait anyway, he thought, even if you are late. Even if you
don't pay.
Just come back tomorrow, please.

The End.