Jack Edwards

Gator 2

Kids need physical contact; boys especially, and especially boys of a certain age – just before puberty. I discovered that Gator seemed to need it more than most. I wondered if he had hugs at home.

At supper, he sat beside me so that his shoulder rested against my arm. Afterward, sitting on the ground around the campfire, he sat leaning back against my left side. Another kid, seeing that, decided to lean back against my right. The younger of my nephews, Jeffy, crawled into my lap. Despite the other boys, I let Gator know I was keeping an eye on him. I looped an arm across his chest, pulling him back against my side, and I gave him an occasional poke or tickle.

He liked it. He seemed happier; certainly much less of a smart ass. And he seemed to like the other kids calling him Gator. His having a cool nickname seemed to subtly change their attitude to Gator as well. They treated him better. I think it helped that he and I were buddies. Kids tended to like me.

It was time to head for bed. I stepped into the trees for a final piss and Gator came right beside me to take a piss as well. We brushed teeth with the same cup of water. I showed him how to slip off his shoes before climbing into the tent, and then I zipped up the screens after we were inside. It was a fairly warm night, and I hadn’t noticed mosquitoes much, but I left the screens up to keep out anything else that might want to wander in.

“This is how we’ll do it,” I told Gator. “My sleeping bag unzips all the way so that I can lay it out flat. I’ll do that so we can both have a little softness under us. We can share the blanket for cover.”

“How about sharing the pillow?” Gator asked quietly.

I tried to see in the dark, whether he was grinning or not, it was impossible to tell from his voice. My eyes hadn’t fully adjusted though, and I couldn’t see well enough to know. I spread out my bedroll and chuckled. “You wouldn’t like my morning breath,” I told him. “Ball up your clothes for a pillow. You can have some of mine if you need them.

Kneeling up, I pulled off my shirt, then sat down to undo and pull off my jeans. Gator, sitting beside me, watched as I lay back on top of the blanket and sleeping roll, in only my boxers.

“You sleep in your underwear?” he asked.

“No,” I told him, grinning. “At home, I sleep naked. I hate sleeping in clothes, but for you, I’m being modest.”

My eyes had adjusted enough to see Gator smile. He pulled off his shirt. Then he pulled off his shorts and tossed them to one side. And then… he pulled off his baggy, old briefs doing me one better. He had a boner. “I’m sleeping naked,” he told me, rolling to his stomach beside me. “You can, too if you want.”

It’s surprising how many of life’s big turns are the result of small decisions. I could have not taken off my boxers. I knew I probably shouldn’t take them off. But I did take them off, tossing them aside, and relaxing comfortably back onto my pillow.

Gator scooted closer on his tummy. I pulled my arm from between us, laying it over his back, and Gator scooted right up against my side with his clothes piled almost in my armpit for a pillow. “You can rest your head on my shoulder,” I told him.

Gator tossed his clothes to the side, and throwing his arm across my chest, he laid his head just under my shoulder. My arm was still behind him and when I cradled his back with it, cupping his butt with my palm, he scooted all the way up against me, cocking his leg over my thigh. I could feel his boner against my hip.

My own boner sprung up in response, rolling up over Gator’s leg to flop up my belly. For a moment, we lay there, and then Gator nudged my boner with his cocked leg. It brought back a memory… of me and Patrick on an afternoon when I was ten and he was seventeen. We were naked, and Patrick was lying back with his hands behind his head watching as I knelt at his side and bent over for my first examination of a nearly-adult-sized erection. “Touch it, Jaime,” he said in a thick voice. “It’s OK to touch it… ”

I didn’t say that to Gator, but simply caressed his bottom. He laid his hand flat on my belly. A moment later, he ran a fingertip up and down the underside of my shaft. He sat up and leaned forward over my middle. I heard him inhale deeply through his nose, as though he liked my scent. I thought I’d cream right then. He closed his hand around my cock, examining the feel of it; he seemed as fascinated by mine as I had been with Patrick’s when I was ten. He slid the skin up and down my shaft.

I told myself he was just a kid, exploring. He’d probably never had a close look at another guy’s equipment. But then Gator threw a leg over me and straddled my thighs. He scooted forward to lay the underside of his erection on the underside of mine, and he closed his hands around both shafts. His head was down, his long, brown hair hanging down, almost to my belly. He stroked our cocks together, watching them.

He looked up at me. In the dim light, I saw a faint glinting of his eyes. He stared steadily at me. His knees were at my sides, and I patted them. “You OK, dude?” I asked, “It’s cool if you want to explore.

Gator swallowed, looking at me hungrily; not a sexual hunger, but something deeper and more profound… a need to be with me hunger, a need for him and me to be an ‘us’. My heart truly and finally melted for him, and I think he understood that. Gator lay down on me, belly to belly, and laid his head on my chest, the top of his head, just under my chin. He hugged my sides and stretched his legs out on mine. I pulled my knees up outside his legs and planted my heels on the bedroll just under my butt so that his hips were between the insides of my thighs, his legs between mine. We were snug at the crotch, and I felt his smaller ballsack drape mine. Our erections flattened between our bellies. I smelled his hair and stroked his back with my fingertips; all the way down to his butt and up his spine and back, over and over.

“Jaime,” he whispered. “Tell me what you did with other boys when you were my age.”

Gently squeezing his hips between my thighs, I wrapped my arms over Gator’s shoulders, hugging him. I kissed the top of his head and it all seemed so natural to hold him like that. “We did what we’re doing now,” I whispered.

Gator moved his hips in that reflex every guy with a hard-on has, no matter what his age; forward and back. I moved mine in response. He moved again. We moved together, slowly grinding. He pressed his forehead into the hollow of my neck and grabbed the top of my shoulder with a hand.

“You did this with other boys?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “With one boy, I did.” I cupped the two globes of his slowly, flexing little bottom with my hands.

“Did you do something different with other boys?” he asked.

I nuzzled into the top of his soft hair and nodded. “Yeah, the usual stuff. We jacked off together, or jacked each other off. We sucked each other’s cocks or cornholed each other. You know what those things are?”

Gator nodded. “How come you did what we’re doing now with only one boy?” he asked, grinding his cock against mine and hugging on to me.

“Because,” I told him quietly. “I felt differently about that boy than other boys.”

“Oh,” Gator said, feeling over my shoulders and chest with his hand, pressing hard muscles, feeling skin with his fingertips. “You liked him,” he said, more than asked.

I nodded. “Yes.” Remembering… remembering how Patrick’s body first felt lying on mine, or when I lay on him... when I was ten and he was seventeen. I remembered how very much I adored my brother back then.

Gator grabbed the tops of both of my shoulders and burrowed with his forehead into my neck. I held his butt in both hands, holding his crotch tightly to mine. I let him do most of the thrusting, but I moved with him. I tried not to think about what I was doing; having sex with a twelve-year-old kid. It seemed so… so good, so natural. I extended the fingers of my right hand down between the backs of Gator’s legs, onto his perineum. I pressed him there, and he responded, parting his legs and pumping faster, rubbing his perineum back against my fingers.

I’m not sure I can explain completely, how I felt. It was surprisingly exciting to have a twelve-year-old boy pumping his butt between my legs, rubbing his cock and mine. But there was more to it than that; much more. I liked Gator. I felt a surprising depth of affection for him; especially for knowing him so short a time. Holding Gator's smaller, naked body, belly to belly with mine, was so different from getting my rocks off with girls… any girl. I felt something for Gator. This seemed right. It was one of those feelings like finally finding what I’d been looking for without knowing I was even looking.

I kissed the top of his head and nuzzled his hair. Gator kissed my collar bone and inside the hollow of my neck. Twelve-year-old boys don’t do a lot of kissing like that, but Gator liked me; I knew that as certainly as I knew I liked him.

We didn’t say anything. There were crickets, and night birds, and the loud stillness of a pine forest at night. Sweat built between our stomachs; my sweat more than his. Our skin made quiet squishing noises. And then Gator tensed, pumping very fast and I felt something wet trickle down my ribs. I planted my feet and lifted my pelvis under him, taking his weight between my legs. His last thrusts brought me off, and my cum soaked our bellies.

We slowed. Gator scooted up, sliding wet belly on wet belly, and wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing the side of his face to my cheek. I grabbed my t-shirt and rolled us to our sides. Cushioning his head with my arm, I used the shirt to towel between us, and then tossed the shirt aside. I held him against me, and Gator clung to me. He nuzzled into my shoulder. He slipped his top leg between mine, and I could feel his warm breath on my chest.

I lay there, stroking his back and thinking. I was thinking that there was no way Gator and I could be together like this, and then simply part ways at the end of the campout. This was the start of something. This was a big start of something. It scared me a little; how does a twenty-two-year old man maintain a relationship with a twelve-year-old boy? How does he do it, and not look like a perv, or worse, be arrested as one?

His breathing grew relaxed, as did mine. I thought he went to sleep. I nuzzled his soft hair and caressed the soft skin of his bottom. I wasn’t sleepy. I kept thinking about Gator and me. Holding him, the way he clung to me, felt incredible. Slowly I left off thinking and simply held Gator in the dark and felt good; damned good.

When he kissed my shoulder, I knew he was still awake. I don’t know why I said it; maybe because I wondered what he was thinking and it occurred to me that he might be thinking beyond the weekend as well. “Gator,” I whispered. “I want us to be together, more than just this weekend… that is, if you want it, too.”

He nodded and hugged my neck more tightly.

“We don’t have to sex together,” I said, trying to say what I thought I was supposed to say. But all Gator did was push his hips forward, and I felt his boner in the crease inside my leg… the same boner or a new one.

I smiled. “Gator,” I whispered, “I’m going to make love to you.” I rolled him to his back and looked down into his eyes.

He looked troubled; just slightly. “Do you do this with other boys?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. “Not since I was about fourteen,” I told him. “This is about you, Gator. About me and you.”

And then he did it again. Just briefly, I saw a hunger to be with me, for him and me to be ‘us’, pass over his face. A hunger to be loved.

The skin of his cheeks looked so very soft in the faint light; his lips so desirable. I kissed him gently. “I will love you, Gator,” I whispered, barely breathing, my lips brushing his. “I will love you if you let me.” I said it without thinking, but if I had thought, I would have said it. We were in a whirlpool together and there was nothing but to go with it.

His arms wrapped around my neck and when I kissed him again, he kissed back, hard, and I felt in the kiss, the hunger for love that I had seen in his eyes.

As we kissed, I stroked the side of his face with my fingertips, tenderly. I let myself feel the love for Gator that he wanted. It was a conscious decision; I remember it clearly. But it was a decision to simply let go and love him.

I moved my body over his, keeping most of my weight on my knees, which were between his legs, and on my elbows. I was hard, too, and despite our height difference, I managed to press my hardness to his while still kissing. It’s amazing how well different heights can fit together like that.

I lifted my head and smiled at him; our two bodies snug together. “You like kissing?” I asked.

He loosened his arms around my neck and nodded with a sleepy-looking grin.

“Shall I teach you how to kiss with tongue?” I asked.

He grinned and nodded and looked less sleepy.

I lowered my mouth to his once more, covering it. When I probed at his lips with my tongue, they parted for me and I thrust my tongue in. Teaching a boy to kiss with tongue isn’t like teaching him to bat or to throw a ball. Every boy is a natural at kissing with tongue, and no real instruction is ever required. Gator responded immediately and enthusiastically. Soon, he was kissing with his entire body; his boner rubbing up against my belly.

You can get a twelve-year-old pretty excited, and Gator was getting there. “Hold on, sport,” I whispered, “I’ll show you some things.”

He frowned. “Are you going to keep calling me ‘sport’?”

“You and no one else.”

“No one else?” he asked, the frown fading.

“No one else,” I whispered.

He smiled.

I kissed his cheeks, his neck, his throat. I licked his flat chest and belly, cleaning him from our earlier cum. I showed him what it was like to have his nipples sucked. I showed him what it was like to have the insides of his thighs licked, and his balls, and his cock. I’d never felt softer skin than his twelve-year-old scrotum. I sucked on it, in nibbles, and then sucked the whole thing into my mouth. I showed him what it was like to have his cock sucked, too, of course. Big kid that he was, at least in the dick department, I took him all the way into my mouth and down my throat. My nose pressed his naked pubic mound and the boy-scent from between his legs filled my nostrils and my dick grew incredibly hard. When he came, I used my tongue to bathe Gator’s crown and shaft with his own watery cum before swallowing it and licking him clean.

I moved back alongside him and slipped my arm under the back of his head once more. “Did you like that?” I whispered. He nodded, his eyes closing. He scooted up against me so that my body cradled his. “Here,” I told him. “We can share the pillow.”


The wind picked up after midnight. It grew cool. I zipped up the doors. We pulled the blanket out from under us and used it for cover. Gator scooted back into me and I spooned him from behind, holding him to keep us both warm. I was hard and my erection pressed his bottom. It felt good, and it was impossible not to rub it there. I kissed the side of Gator’s neck and held him back against me.

But then Gator squirmed out of my arms and I was afraid he was having regrets. Instead, though, he rolled to face me and scooted down under the blanket. I felt his hands on my cock and balls, and then his tongue on my crown; smaller hands than most girls, even if they were large hands for a twelve-year-old boy, and a smaller tongue than most girls. He licked all over me, as if he was licking an ice cream cone. He sucked my crown like he might the top of an ice cream cone. He stroked my shaft and licked me and covered my crown with his mouth when I started to come.

He tried swallowing it, but I make a lot of cum. He licked for a while before I finally pulled him back up, and I licked his face clean with my tongue. Then, in the dark as he lay on his back, I pressed my lips softly to his. He clasped the back of my head and kissed back for a long time, not with tongue, but with feeling. It occurred to me that perhaps Gator was making his own conscious decision to let go… a decision to trust me, trust me enough to love me. In that moment, I vowed to myself to never betray his decision. I pulled him against me once more, and we went to sleep with his body cradled to mine. With only a blanket for cover, we kept each other warm.


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