Whenever I went with a girl, we hung at out her place, rather than mine. Even with Jenna, I preferred that. That way, I could leave when I wanted. You can’t very well send a girl home when you’re tired of her for the night, at least not more than once. Besides, I wanted to keep my place as my place, and girls had a tendency to make it theirs, too.
And yet, as I was coming home from work that Monday night, I was thinking about getting Gator to come over. I’d been unable to keep my mind off him at work. I was tired from the weekend, the night with Jenna, and a full day’s work, but not that tired.
I thought about calling Gator. I could call and ask how school went. I could volunteer to pick him up and help him that evening with his homework. But certainly, that’d be too much, too soon. What would his mom think of me calling Gator the very next day after spending the weekend with him on a campout?
It was crazy to even think about, I decided. I would simply rest that night.
I almost jumped out of my skin when I stepped onto my back porch and Gator got up from one of the deck chairs.
“Hey, sport, scare the wits out of me next time,” I told him.
Gator smiled and came closer, but shyly.
I could read his expression, though, or thought I could. We had been together the entire weekend, but now a whole day had passed away from each other. I knew the thoughts he’d had. I’d had them, too. “Wondering if it was all a dream?” I asked with a smile. “Wondering if we still feel the same?”
He nodded uncertainly.
“Well, I’ll tell you how I feel,” I said, grinning. “If I wasn’t so damned filthy and sweaty, I’d pick you up and hug you so hard you wouldn’t be able to breathe.”
He grinned then and came closer as if he’d hug me, but then stopped, looking over my torso.
I wore no shirt, and was covered with dirt and debris. “Yeah, I seriously need a shower,” I said. I pulled out my keys and turned toward the back door. “Did you come to study?” I asked.
Gator said nothing, and I looked back over my shoulder at him.
Gator gave me a cockeyed grin.
“Horny little bastard,” I mumbled, but I flashed him a grin. Despite his innuendo, I noticed school books on a deck chair. “Grab your books,” I told him. “Come on in and we can look at your homework after I shower.”
Gator grabbed up the books and followed me into the kitchen where he set them down on the table and greeted Benny, my cat, while I drank a glass of water. Leaning back against the counter, I watched the two of them. Cats are inscrutable of course, even one as friendly as Benny, but it seemed to me that Benny seemed particularly friendly to Gator. Did he know my heart for Gator?
“He likes me,” Gator happily said to me while stroking Benny’s back.
“Here,” I said, kneeling beside them. “I’ll show you some things he likes. Scratch between his ears like this.”
Gator’s finger joined mine on top of Benny’s furry head; our fingers brushed, and then lingered, touching. Gator looked up at me with a small smile; his grey eyes crystal clear and warm. I closed my hand around his. “Wanna shower with me?” I asked. “I could use somebody to scrub my back.”
Gator’s grin went wide.
We watched each other undress in my bathroom. I grinned when Gator pulled his pants down, and his long stick of a boner sprang up, pointing ceilingward. Mine was thickening, and arched out from my middle, rising.
I turned on the water to get it hot, and when I turned back to face Gator, he threw his arms around my middle, hugging me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I missed you today, sport,” I murmured. “I thought about you all day.”
Gator squeezed the small of my back, hard. “I thought about you all day, too, sport.”
I picked him up by his butt and he wrapped his legs around my waist. We kissed, and he immediately probed into my mouth with his tongue.
“Damn, sport,” I said, when he gave me a chance to breathe, “you horny today?”
He gave me a happy smile and a tilt of the head, fondly, combing my hair with his fingers. Then he wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed the side of his face to mine. It felt like that first day at the lake, when he’d hung on to me because of the alligators. I loved holding him like that.
With him clinging to me, I managed to adjust the water temperature, grab a couple of washrags, and then step into the tub enclosure before closing the door and turning on the shower.
Turning around under the showerhead, I soaked us, and then I nuzzled Gator. “Okay, sport,” I said, setting him down, “let’s give each other a bath.”
He stood apart from me, smoothing his wet hair back with both hands. Standing, both arms up beside his head like that, and his boner pointing up his slender body, Gator looked like some statue of a perfect boy. I grinned, admiring, and handed him a washrag. I took one myself. We soaped them up, looking each other over, smiling, boners pointing up between us.
When I started on Gator’s chest and belly, he started on mine. He seemed to take as much pleasure with my lean-muscled shoulders and pecs as I did with his boyish flat chest and angular shoulders. We exchanged grins and scrubbed gently. We worked our way down. He got to my balls and cock first, and gingerly washed them. Then I did his, working the washrag into the creases of his legs, lifting his balls and washing under them, cleaning Gator’s perineum.
Gator dropped to his knees, scrubbing down my legs, brushing against my boner with his face and the sides of his head. While he did that, I squirted shampoo into his hair and worked it in. Gator set his washrag on the soap dish and took my cock into his hand. He licked over it while I tried working on his hair. Even so, I spent longer shampooing the top of his head than I needed to.
I pulled Gator to his feet and turned his back to me. Wet, his hair looked darker and hung down to the middle of his slender back. He had a pleasant taper from his shoulders down to his narrow waist. The twin mounds of his small bottom glistened white and wet. They weren’t as fleshy and looked more muscular than those of most twelve-year-olds. I was proud of that; I was proud of his firm, little bottom.
I worked the shampoo down the length of his hair. “You’ve got beautiful hair, sport,” I told him.
“I wish it was thick like yours,” he said.
“It’s plenty thick,” I told him, using the suds from the shampoo and my hand to clean his back, working down both sides of his spine. Each of his little buttocks easily fit my hand. I rubbed shampoo over them, too, and then worked suds into his crack, cleaning him intimately. He leaned his shoulders back against me as I worked and I kissed the top of his wet head.
I rinsed him off while he leaned back against me, shifting him this way and that, but keeping him resting against me until I rinsed down the back of his legs. I spent longer washing the back of his legs and bottom than I really needed to. They were beautiful, literally. I kissed the backs of his thighs and his bottom. Then I stood. “Okay, sport. I’ll take the front of my legs if you’ll work on my back,” I told him, turning my back to him.
I had hard back muscles, and he scrubbed them vigorously, working down my spine. He washed my butt cheeks as well, but instead of scrubbing, he caressed them with his washcloth; first one buttock, then the other. He worked the washcloth into my crack while holding my hip steady with one hand. And then the washcloth was gone and his bare hand was in my crack, working down onto my perineum. I responded as guys often do when stroked down there, moving back against his hand.
Some things you just don’t need to train another guy how to do. Between his own instincts and my responses, Gator was plenty effective, working me up. Soon my hips were rocking back against the rubbing of his fingers. Gator paused a moment, and grabbed my sides with both hands, and then it wasn’t his fingers, but his boner, traveling up and down my crack.
“Jamie?” he asked softly, “can I try cornholing you some time?”
“No shit, you can… like right now!” I murmured. Reaching back past him, I turned off the water. “You can’t work me up like that, Gator, and then not stick your boner up my ass. You’ve got me wanting it; now you gotta deliver.” Glancing back, I winked at him, and whispered, “Damn good work, sport.” Then I got down onto my knees and bent forward to rest my hands on the back end of the tub. I rocked back on my knees a little, lowering my butt to what I thought would be the right height. “It’s been a long time for me,” I said, “and you’ve got a fuckin’ big cock for a kid. Normally, we’d use some kind of lube, but let’s try it like this, with just water.” I wiggled my butt at him. I thought it a humorous gesture, but I really was ready.
Gator knelt instantly at my butt. I felt one of his hands on the top of my ass, and a short second later, I felt the wet, blunt end of his cock pressing in between my buttcheeks.
“Don’t push in too fast,” I warned. “Take it slow and let me get used to you.”
Back when I was a kid, I never had much trouble taking other guys, not after Patrick; not even with Patrick. And though it had indeed been a long time, I felt that deep itch of desire, down under my perineum that a guy gets when he’s been screwed, and likes it, and wants it again.
Gator pushed, and slipped in. Water may not be the best of lubricants, but it did the job just fine, and actually, I could feel the slide of Gator’s shaft through my sphincter much more distinctly than if we had been lubed up, and it was like the scratching of a really, really deep itch. I was glad for every millimeter of his twelve-year-old endowment.
“Oh, damn, Gator,” I murmured, “that feels good.” I felt his lap flatten against my bottom. “Do what feels good to you,” I told him, “and it will feel good to me, too.”
He didn’t move though, for a moment. Instead, his hands swept my flanks and back. I remembered the first time I eased my dick into another boy’s butt, other than Patrick, and how it looked, gazing down on his back and marveling at the flare of his bottom into my lap and the exquisite feeling of my cock stretched long inside him. I gave Gator’s cock a squeeze with the muscles of my rectum.
“Oh,” he murmured. He bent over me, wrapping his arms under me. He laid his body and the side of his face down on my back.
“Fuck me, Gator,” I whispered. “Use your hips. Slide your cock in and out of me. Please.”
He did, slowly.
“Oh, yeah,” I murmured, swaying my back to angle the drag of the underside of his cock down over my prostate. It had been years, but I’d been fucked plenty as a kid; I knew what felt good.
He moved again, forward and back, and quickly eased into a rhythm.
“Bang it home,” I told him, surprised at the huskiness of my own voice. “Bang it! Grind it in. If it feels good for you, it’ll feel good for me.”
His hips moved faster and more forcefully. He straightened back up and grabbed me by the hips. He pounded harder and the slap of his lap against my bottom echoed flatly off the bathroom tiles.
“You like this, sport?” he asked me in a thick voice for a twelve-year-old.
“Yes!” I told him. The muscles of my pelvic floor spasmed once, twice. I moaned, and swallowed dryly. “Do you like this?” I managed to ask.
He pounded harder, and I bumped back against him the way girls sometimes did, doggie-style, when they really liked it. And it did feel good. It felt so damned good! The longer we went, the better it felt.
When Gator came, he almost brought me with him. He clutched at my sides and drove far up inside me. I felt the throbbing of his cock inside my rectum; he whimpered with each pulse as he squirted his clear semen inside someone else for the first time.
He collapsed onto my back, and I resisted the urge to finish myself by jacking off while he was still inside me. It was difficult. “You alright, sport?” I asked in a strained voice. “Did you enjoy your first fuck?”
He kissed my back and squeezed my belly with his arms. “Yes.”
I remembered the first time I came inside Patrick, spooned behind him, and how wonderful it felt, hugging onto him, marveling at the sudden affection for him.
Gator’s softening cock slipped out. He sat back onto his haunches and as I knelt up, I felt my sphincter tightening once more. He stood up, and then I stood up and faced him. “Dude,” I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You’re a natural.”
I washed his cock while he shampooed me, at least until he was ready to rinse my hair. I had him hard again by then.
I dried him off, and then he dried me off. My cock had yet to go down. Gator closed his hand around it and looked up at me. “Do I have to get older before you can cornhole me, too?” he asked.
My eyes were half-closed because of the feel of his hand on my shaft. “No,” I murmured. “I was taking Patrick when I was ten.”
“Mr. Kennedy?” he asked, surprised.
My eyes flew open. “Oh, shit! Gator, forget I said that, okay? I didn’t mean to let that out.”
“You and your brother fucked each other?” he asked, squeezing my cock.
I nodded, catching my breath.
“And you were ten? How old was he?”
“Was his as big as this?” he asked, squeezing my cock again.
“Almost,” I said, “and I was smaller than you back then.”
He looked up, giving my cock a final, longer squeeze. “Do you want to cornhole me?”
Swallowing hard, I looked down into his eyes. “In the worst way,” I said, sincerely.
Gator nodded, and then, nuzzling in under my chin, he closed his hands over my shoulders. I grabbed him under the butt, pulling him up against me, and Gator wrapped his legs around my waist. I carried him back into my bedroom.
I kept KY in the nightstand beside my bed, which I grabbed before climbing onto the bed with Gator still wrapped around me. I fell onto my stomach with him under me. I simply kissed him, lying between his legs, for a few moments.
I rolled off onto my side, pressing his right side with my chest and belly. I cradled the back of his head in the crook of my arm and pulling my legs up under his, I draped his legs over the side of my hip, almost as if he was sitting sideways in my lap, but with us lying on the bed. I parted his legs, spreading his knees a few inches apart over my hip and leg, so that I could fondle him. I pressed my cock against his hip, but not too hard; I didn’t need to be any more excited than I was.
He watched the whole operation in the mirror overhead, and then, when I was settled, he turned his face to mine, nose to nose, closed his hand around the end of my cock, and he smiled. “Guess it’s good that I’m big Jamie and you’re little Jamie,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“Asshole,” I said with a grin as I cradled his bottom with my lap and rolled his thickened cock between my fingers. “Seriously, though. We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to, Sport. We can stop anytime you say to stop.”
“Stop!” he called out.
“Just testing.” He smiled nervously again, and swallowed.
“Gator,” I said, quietly. “We really don’t need to do this.”
“I want to,” he quickly said. He lifted a finger to my lips and his eyes dropped there. “I want to,” he said more quietly. His eyes met mine. “You like, did this with your brother, right?”
His cock was almost rigid. I closed my hand around it and stroked. “Yeah, Patrick cornholed me, mostly, but I liked it. I liked the feel of him lying on top of me, tummy-to-tummy.”
Gator nodded. “Like when you lay on top of me and we rub,” he said.
“Sorta. But it’s different with a cock up your butt. It can feel… well, it can feel really good. You know what a prostate is?”
His hips had begun to move slightly with my stroking and he glanced up at our reflection as he shook his head. “No.”
I told Gator about the prostate gland and where it was and how it could make having something up your butt feel really good. Gator listened, nodding and watching in the mirror as I stroked his cock, fondled his balls, and stroked inside his thighs to relax him. He hung on to my cock, gently manipulating it.
“You cornholed other guys, too, right?” he asked. “Did they like it, too?”
“Yeah, I cornholed other guys and they did me. We liked it a lot, and when we were your age, we had no trouble taking each other up the butt at all. Of course, back when we were starting out, we used Vaseline till we knew better. It’s goopy, but use Vaseline and you can stick almost anything up your butt.”
“You have Vaseline?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, actually, I do,” I told him. “I’ll be right back.” I gave his cock a couple of vigorous strokes. “Stay hard!”
In a moment, I was back with a small container of Vaseline and a hand towel. “This stuff gets messy,” I explained. “So I brought a towel to wipe with.” I quickly returned to my previous position with Gator on his back with his butt in my lap, his thin legs over my hip, and the back of his head resting in the crook of my arm. “We’ll take our time,” I assured him as I settled back in.
I fondled him. We kissed and I probed his mouth with my tongue while at the same time, I rubbed under his balls, rubbing his perineum to warm and loosen him up much like the way he had done to me. My own hips began to move and Gator squeezed my cock.
“Oh,” he said, looking at his side. Clear, viscous liquid covered his palm and spotted his hip.
“That’s precum,” I told him. “If you haven’t yet, you’ll start making it before long. It happens when a guy gets really excited. It’s your body’s own lubrication to make your dick slick, but we’ll need more than my precum.”
He slid his thumb and forefinger over my crown, feeling my precum and its slipperiness. He lifted his fingers to his nose, sniffed, then tasted.
“Let me taste it,” I murmured, “from your lips.”
I kissed him, and his hands dropped back to my cock. He fondled me, growing more excited.
“Take the tube of KY,” I told him, nodding to where it lay on Gator’s other side. “Open it and squeeze a little onto your fingers and squeeze some onto mine.”
I rubbed his perineum until he opened the tube and squeezed gel onto his fingertips; then I held my fingers up for some as well.
“Now,” I said, “rub it into your crack and over your rectum.” He pulled his knees higher and did so. My fingers joined his, and we lubed his bottom. I propped his head up with my arm so he could see well.
“Stick your finger in,” I said. “Stick it all the way in and see if you can feel your prostate. Feel for a little bump. You’ll know if you hit it.”
Gator put his fingertip at his hole, glanced up at the mirror, and pushed, sliding his finger in. “Weird,” he murmured. “I ain’t done that before.”
Watching in the mirror above, his brow furrowed in concentration, Gator explored with his finger.
“Don’t know,” he said. Then he rolled his head my way and grinned. “Can I try looking for yours?”
“Sure,” I answered with a wink.
Gator scooted around and I cocked my leg. His finger was slick, and I was still a little loose. He slipped in easily. “Umm,” I murmured.
“Gross,” he answered back. “It’s all wet inside.”
“It’s your own cum, you dickhead,” I said, laughing.
He grinned and poked around inside me. I tried to guide him. Then he hit it. I tensed. “That’s it!”
Almost immediately, Gator was on his back again, head back on my arm, pulling his knees up and probing with his fingers into his own bottom. “I know where to find it now… I think I found it,” he said, concentrating.
“Let me,” I told him.
Gator pulled his finger out, and I replaced it with mine. It was a moment’s work to find his little button.
“Holy shit!” he gasped, arching back and grasping my arm.
I was gentle, but gave him a little massage.
“It can feel good,” I told him.
“No shit!” he said through clenched teeth.
“Relax,” I whispered. “Just relax. Let it feel good. Don’t fight it.” I worked my finger around, doing what I could to relax his sphincter. I could feel him loosen up.
“Do it with me, Gator,” I told him. “Stick your finger in, too.”
With his head still cradled in my arm and his body cradled by mine, I cupped the back of his hand with the front of mine, my finger behind his, like a teacher and student. We worked together, very slowly, very carefully as he inserted his finger inside his rectum along with mine. We took our time. He loosened and relaxed.
The boys I had sexed with as a kid rarely seemed to have trouble taking each other. I hadn’t lied about that. Patrick, of course, was much bigger. The first time he butt-fucked me, we were on our sides with him spooned behind me. He was very patient and it went fine that first time. I wanted to go carefully with Gator, too.
“Keep your finger inside and move it around,” I told him. I reached past him and grabbed a pillow which I stuffed under his butt. Then I opened the Vaseline one-handed, and smoothed gel liberally onto my cock before wiping my hand off on the towel. The entire time, I kept my arm under the back of Gator’s head and my forehead to his. Now I put my lips close to his ear. “You ready to try, sport?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I really wanted our first time to be face-to-face. When I was Gator’s age, it just didn’t get better than Patrick lying belly-to-belly on me, with his cock far up inside my butt, pumping, and his taut belly rubbing my cock till we both came. My coming with Patrick’s cock up my butt grew more and more powerful as I grew into puberty and adolescence. I wanted it to be good for Gator, too.
“Gator,” I murmured, my lips brushing his ear. “I want to do this face to face. Let me on top of you.”
He nodded and pulled his legs up for me to be able to shift from under his legs to over him and between them. I did, spreading his legs and moving up between them. “Guide me in, sport,” I murmured.
Gator reached down between us while I held myself up over him. He closed his hand around my shaft and guided my crown to his entrance. He tensed slightly. “Relax,” I whispered, my forehead resting on his once more.
He nodded, his breath brushing my lips.
I pushed my hips forward gently, felt slight resistance, and then Gator let my crown in. My sensitive glans passed through his tightness with an exquisite slowness and my breath caught.
We paused there, with me just inside him. And then I eased just an inch more in. Gator pulled his hand from between us and grabbed both of my shoulders. I pressed my lips to his, and probed into his mouth with my tongue, partly to distract him. Lowering myself to my elbows, I reach under the backs of his shoulders and we held each other’s shoulders as I eased, slowly, all the way in. He was tight; his ring tighter than a pussy by far, but what made it so damned difficult not to come was that it was Gator I was slipping into; and a boy for the first time in a long, long time.
I felt his bottom bones against the taut muscles on either side of the base of my shaft. I was all the way inside him.
His eyes were closed. I kissed gently over Gator’s face, his skin soft under my lips. “Sport?” I whispered. Only that.
He nodded, eyes closed, wrapping his arms around my neck and pressing his mouth back up to mine. I slid my hands under the backs of his shoulders and stretched my legs out, going flat on him, his boner flattened between our bellies. I ground slowly and felt my balls brush lightly on his bottom. I drew slowly out and pushed back in. “I want this to feel good for you,” I whispered. “I want it to feel really good. Work with me. Do what feels good. Tell me if anything doesn’t feel right.” I lowered my voice to a much softer whisper. “Move with me, Gator. Let’s do this together.”
He circled his hips; just a small circle that worked my cock inside him. He circled again, and I circled with him, and then we circled together and kept circling. Gator dug his heels into the bed outside my thighs and we began to bump in our circling. He hugged my neck, pressing the side of his face to mine, and I knew he was watching us in the mirror. I nuzzled into his neck and ground deeply into him, clinching my butt for the mirror, and rubbing the underside of his cock with my belly.
I thrust with my hips and Gator met my thrusts. The brass bed creaked rhythmically, growing louder. Gator’s breathing was as loud in my ears as mine. I lifted my head and could see our reflection from the wall mirrors through the brass bars of the bedstead. I could see Gator’s smaller head beside mine and his thin arms around my neck, and somehow, among all the rocking, it was the intimacy of our embrace that struck me and excited me most, at the same time.
I nuzzled him again, wrapping my arms under him. He tightened his around my neck. We kept that intimacy; me probing intimately inside him with my cock, and nothing had felt so good, ever. I had the musculature of a youth now, a young man, unlike when I cornholed with Patrick or other boys. I felt lean and strong and male. And though a pussy arguably felt better to slide a cock in and out of, Gator’s smaller body moving under mine, the dense, bony body of a boy, was incomparable as was the tightness of his little ring sliding up and down my shaft.
Sensations conquered thought. I realized that Gator and I were both moaning. We rocked side to side. I slid my thighs up under the backs of his. His hands clung to the back of my shoulders and I felt his forearms resting on my shoulder blades.
“Oh, Gator,” I moaned, “fuck with me. Fuck my belly, fuck against me hard. I’m gonna come soon, and I want you to come with me.”
I felt his boner drive harder into my belly. I tightened my muscles there against him, and it distracted me a moment, but only a moment. Suddenly the fire of climax roared up through my loins almost violently, and each squirt of my semen into Gator was a rocket of immense pleasure shooting up through my shaft. I think I cried out softly.
As my mind cleared, Gator rubbed his cock hard up against my belly, and he began arching back under me. His spasming, tightening sphincter induced a secondary orgasm in me, and with that, I know I cried out. Gator’s fingers dug into my shoulders.
We lay side-by-side on our backs afterward, gazing up at the mirrors on the ceiling. The back of Gator’s head rested on my shoulder and he had his hand over my flaccid cock. “Well,” he said, looking at my reflection in the mirrors overhead, “we fucked each other.”
“Does that mean we could be like, lovers, someday?”
I rolled my head to kiss the top of his. “It means we’re already lovers, if you want us to be.”
Gator’s eyes met mine in the mirror, and my statement didn’t seem dumb to me at all because I wasn’t thinking of Gator as only twelve just then. I was thinking of him as a boy I already loved; a boy who was closer to me at that moment, than any friend I’d ever had.
“Lovers don’t just fuck each other,” I told him. “They make love to each other. They please and take care of each other. I’d like to teach you that.”
Gator grinned. “I think I already please you… a lot!”
I laughed and patted his hip. “You’ve no idea!”
He looked me in the eye, in the mirror, and his brow furrowed. “Do you think you’re gay, Jamie? Because I think I am. I think I’ve been gay for a long time.” He smiled, sadly. “I get boners in the showers because I like looking at other guys, you know?”
“So do you think you’re gay, too?” he asked again, quietly.
“At this moment,” I said, just as quietly, “I couldn’t be gayer.”
He leaned up, rolling toward me, propping on his elbow. He gazed down on my face, his eyes lingering on my lips before he kissed me lightly, and then wrapped his arm around my neck and pressed the side of his face to mine.
“I’m staying home tonight,” I told Jenna over the phone. “After the weekend, and last night, and then working hard today, I’m really beat.”
“I’ll come over and take care of you. I’ll bring you leftover casserole.”
“No,” I said, as Gator kissed my right nipple and played with it using a fingertip. “I’m gonna head for bed soon.”
When I ended the call, I kissed the top of Gator’s head and passed him the phone. “Okay sport, call your mom and tell her that I’m helping you with homework and that I’ll bring you home soon.”
“After supper?” he asked hopefully. “Can I tell her I’ll eat here?”
“Sure,” I said. “If it’s alright with her.”
“It will be,” he assured me. “We’ll even have time to fuck one more time.”
I gave his belly a light slap. “After homework.”
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