Date: Fri, 31 Dec 2004 20:41:14 -0800 (PST) From: Steve Storyman Subject: Hot Teen Brian (and his boys) _______________________________________ Hot Teen Brian (and his Boys) - Chapter 1 by Steve Storyman stevestoryman@yahoo.com Copyright 2004 Steve Storyman December 31, 2004 DISCLAIMER: This story is for adults only. If it is not legal for you to read erotic stories, or you are not of legal age either where you reside or are accessing this page, or are offended by male to male sex or adult-youth gay sex, then don't read this story. Other standard disclaimers apply. _______________________________________ NOTE: This is about a 17-year-old boy and his antics with younger boys. Older males will join Brian and the boys from time to time. The story continues well past the main character (Brian's) 18th birthday. The list of Brian's friends (anywhere from pre-teen to 15 or so) will grow as the story progresses. _______________________________________ Brian Amesly, 17 Matthew Brighton, 14 (Peter Zunk, 18, introduced in a later chapter.) ____________________________________________________________ "No, Brian!" "Come on, just try it. You're a big boy! It wont hurt. I'll just lick it a little. If you don't like it, I'll stop right away, okay?" "Okay, just a little, though." . . . "You like it?" "Awesome!" "You want me to stop?" "No." (from an upcoming chapter) ____________________________________________________________ CHAPTER ONE I'm Brian Amesly. I was 17-years-old and horny as hell--way beyond just needing to get off. I wanted to jerk off 24/7. Around the time I turned 17, something strong grabbed me that gave me bigger-than-usual boners that refused to go down. I was very good with my right hand and knew how to make myself feel better. But soon I'd be hard again, and within a half-hour, I'd need to get off again. Holes in my pockets and pre cum were my best friends at times when I couldn't run off to a bathroom--or a nice closet or an empty classroom. I even got good at holding a sweater in front of myself, so I could masturbate standing up on a crowded bus. Moaning was a problem, though. I didn't think of myself as cute, but others did. I knew I was attractive, and had been warned that my looks and slim body might be a problem for me someday--maybe attracting the wrong types of people along with the good ones--but I didn't think I was hot. I was sure I wasn't gay. I'd get around to dating girls eventually. I wasn't egotistical, either, and hadn't even thought of trying to use my body to attract others for my own pleasure. To me, sex was jerking off. Other than that I was sort of asexual. I did see people staring at me, but those were a few older guys I bumped into now and then--making passes at me and sometimes groping me. That bothered me. At least it didn't happen a lot. I supposed I was the typical, nice, blue-eyed-blond kid that seems to register "cute" in everyone's mind. It didn't help my self-image that I had so little body hair. I wanted to look more manly because I was manly, and I WAS 17, after all. But what hair I had on my body was so light in color, you could hardly see it. I was happy to have a fairly nice bush, and hair on my balls, though. Younger guys had no problem seeing me as manly. At least I was tall, a little over 5 foot 10, and worked out some, so I had a pretty good build. But I wanted more than my 155 pounds. I was working on it. When I got to be 16 or 17, I would stop shaving from time to time. That gave me some facial hair to make me look a little older, but it took a week before anything really showed. I didn't want a beard actually, but I thought a little hair on my face was cool. I'd get tired of it and shave it off, only to let it grow a few weeks later. I'd go back and forth like that. I wore my sideburns short because it made me look more athletic, and I wanted that look. Even though I didn't like the sexual advances aimed at me, I would jerk off furiously. I thought I should be so turned off by those guys that I wouldn't need to do that a lot. A lot of those guys were hot-looking, but that didn't register at the time, except some that were just a few years older than me. Eventually I figured out their sexual advances made me horny. That bothered me, but I couldn't stop masturbating--even though I love to jerk off. I didn't want guys propositioning and groping me to make me horny. Funny how your mind works in ways you don't know about. As soon as I knew what was making me horny, I called a shrink I had seen before, and over the phone, he got me through it. I had the money to pay for it. He didn't charge me for the phone work, probably because my parents paid him big bucks at one time. He helped me see that at my age, almost anything can make a boy horny, even if he thinks he doesn't want it. He convinced me there was nothing wrong with me. I had quit my summer job--one with my uncle who was supposed to set me up with a career in office equipment sales. I was told I would take over the company eventually. To say I didn't like it was to say the least. My parents were devastated that I had quit--that bothered me a lot. They were good and understanding parents--more open and socially liberal than most. But it took them a long time to accept the fact that I was moving on, in my choice of career. Only then did some sort of normalcy return to my home life in the suburban Midwest town of Belton, Illinois--population 73,000-- just big enough to have the diversities of a city, without the extreme urban qualities and problems of a real city. Except for the fact that we had the internet and all the latest technologies, life in suburban Belton as I knew it, was a throwback to earlier times. This was less true in the center of town--a place I refused to call a city, because Belton could not compare to Chicago or New York. Plus, I was a country boy at heart. I had some city smarts--unlike the stereotypical image of the 'dumb' farmboy. I never thought they were dumb. I had never lived on a farm, though I was interested in being on one, and doing that special type of work--what I knew of it from books and films, and looking out the window driving by. Now that I was a "free man" again--free from the confines of my so-called chosen career--I really enjoyed playing basketball, going swimming, and generally goofing around with my friends. Not that I thought of myself as a man--I just thought that if I could LOOK more like one, it would help me FEEL like one. My parents didn't push me to get another job. I still had a year of high school to go. I loved being with a bunch of guys. But I'd been gone from the neighborhood for almost the whole summer because of the long hours I worked, and after a while I felt as if I were forcing the guys to hang with me. I hated to admit it, but maybe it was because I looked younger than I was. Maybe it was my fault--I always enjoyed inviting a friend over for dinner, or just up to my room to share games and other childhood interests--but the guys in my crowd didn't take well to my invitations. So I looked around for others to hang with. I ended up with a whole new set of friends--mostly younger teens, 15 and 16, with a few 13 and 14 year olds--all guys. I hoped to get more of the younger boys as friends, and maybe even some younger than 13, who loved to go swimming and could use an older boy like me to take them and supervise. Most of the parents in the neighborhood knew me, and I was pretty well respected and liked. Some knew me because I had been on my high-school basketball team at one time. The younger boys weren't as much into outdoor sports as my older friends. That was fine with me, because they usually said yes, when I invited them over to my house. Being smaller and younger, these boys looked up to me. I enjoyed that. It wasn't hero worship, but they liked having an older kid they could relate to--and I clicked with them. I listened to a lot of the same music, watched the same TV shows they did, and knew the names of all the hot young stars. I ended up with one good friend my age, Peter Zunk. He was 18, and he liked a lot of my younger friends, too. Peter was very pretty and the only boy my age I had sex with. I discovered or admitted I was gay, and loved it from that day on. Mostly I was comfortable with the younger crowd. I felt more in control, and I knew more than they did--I loved when they asked me questions and we were all sitting around somewhere. But for me, the best was having a boy over to the house and feeling I had his total attention. He had mine, too. Boys ask more questions when it's just the two of you. I found that out pretty fast, and I'm no genius. So why do they put is in big classrooms of 20 or 30 or more? Duh! If an average 17- year-old can figure that out, why are we still teaching the old way? No that's not right. Why don't we go BACK to the old way, which was one teacher, one student--way back when. My parents thought it was fine that I had all these younger friends. For one thing, they knew I was a good kid and maybe was a good influence on the boys. I wasn't sure about that, but hey, it worked for me. Mom and dad liked kids, and enjoyed having them for dinner, too. Another thing--my folks were thrilled when I eventually began to help some of these kids with their schoolwork--which really happened accidentally, but I was good at it. After all, it hadn't been that long since I had taken the same classes, and it made my parents proud of me, which I liked. It made the boys like me all the more, because their better grades kept things cool at home. The problem was my dick. I was hard so often, I took to wearing a jock to hide the thing. I didn't want to freak out my friends --or anyone else. My favorite friend was a 14-year-old kid, Matthew Brighton. It was still summer, and I asked him over for dinner and a few computer games. Matt was a very energetic kid, and always seemed to be up for anything. Matt could have been my younger brother--he had my same coloring, golden skin, eyes, light hair, body shape and all--a smaller version of me. Matthew was a great kid, the semi-quiet type, but when he said something, it wasn't bull, it was something worth hearing. We all enjoyed Matt at dinner--he was pretty good at small talk-- and I could tell from the approving smiles of mom and dad that Matthew would be welcomed back anytime. Up in my room, instead of computer games, Matt showed me some of the web sites he likes to use for research, as well as music. As usual, I was glad I had my jock on, and we talked a mile a minute while we browsed from site to site. The sites weren't that interesting, but there was lots of good conversation and eye contact--something most of my older friends didn't provide. I loved eye contact. The only real problem was that I had to scratch or readjust my bone every so often (it's harder to scratch in a jock), and with Matt's full attention on me, it wasn't easy finding the right moment to do that--times when he wasn't looking. It was easier to hide my boner with me and Matt at the computer desk, but when we moved away from that and just sat around in my room, there were a couple of times he saw me. It didn't bother Matt--and he even scratched himself once. So I didn't feel too awkward about it. We were talking about the latest Harry Potter flick when mom called to me. "Brian--is your laundry ready?" I had forgotten it was laundry night. Mom was fussy about that. In my excitement of having Matt over, I had forgotten to gather it. I grabbed all my dirty clothes and excused myself. "Be right there, mom," I yelled. "I'll be right back," I said to Matt. "No problem," he said, and went back on the net looking for Harry Potter stuff. I went downstairs to the laundry room where my mom was, and she started sorting my laundry right away. I had a little secret--I had lost my spare jock, and mom noticed it was missing from my laundry pile. "Brian--it's got to be washed. Where is it?" "Um--oh, wait. I think I know where it is." I didn't want to tell her it was on my body. Thank God I had some spare clean underwear hanging up in the basement! I left to go there--partly for privacy so I could take my jock off and put it in the laundry, partly to have some briefs to wear in place of the jock. I was scared mom was mad at me for forgetting my laundry, or that she'd discover I'd lost one of my jocks, so my dick was soft by then from fear. Still, I liked to flip it up and let my briefs hold it that way. I slipped out of my jock and into the briefs, stretching the front of the waistband and letting it snap against me as the final step. "OW!" I said as quietly as I could. The waistband snapped hard against the head of my cock--which, in hurrying, I failed to notice was sticking up too high in this particular pair of briefs. It stung. But something weird happened right after that. I thought about that pain and the sound of my briefs snapping and hitting my dick. I played it up in my mind--imagining I had endured some agony, and what a man I was for not letting the pain get to me. My idea, daydream maybe, got clearer--I imagined I had gotten a hard whack on my dick, and was able to take it without even flinching. Then I got hard--one of the best, stiffest boners yet. Only a real man could take something like that, and not fall down or cry. I did my best to arrange my wayward penis so it wouldn't show much. Satisfied that I was decent, I put my shorts back on, dropped off the jock, and went upstairs to Matthew. As we talked, I shifted, and my hard cock became obvious from time to time. When that happened, I always blushed. Matt eventually noticed--the bone as well as the blush. He scratched himself at that moment. This happened many times--my cock bulging or tenting, depending on which way my dick shifted at the time--with Matt seeing it and scratching himself. When I saw Matthew tenting his pants, I felt a knot in my chest. My heart raced. That surprised me. I looked at Matt's tent and blushed. He looked at my bulge and blushed. The dam broke that had been holding back my sexual thoughts and desires. Now, I wanted to do something with him. Mainly I wanted to see Matt's dick, and suddenly that idea was as exciting to me as watching his sweet, boyish face and its cute little expressions-- more exciting actually. I had to keep swallowing because I was nervous--and because I was drooling over Matt. Instead of a nice, friendly chat and a game of whatever, I was playing peek-a-boo with a 14-year-old boy's tent in his pants, and wanting to see the thing in the flesh. Something turned on inside me that had been off for a long time. Maybe it was never on until then. Whatever it was, it set a goal for me--one that I agreed with in my mind--to see his dick. I'll never know how or why I knew how to play this game, but I played it well, even though that was my first time at it. Each time I adjusted myself, I smiled. Same for each time Matt did the same--and I flashed a bigger smile when I saw HIS tent. The tension rose between us--that silent, 'I think I want something to happen but I'm scared,' feeling. Eventually both our bones were tenting upward as we sat across from each other. "Mmm," I said softly, gently--smiling as I looked right at Matt's tent--definitely nothing nasty or threatening in my look, but I let him know without words, 'Hey, I like that.' As I talked, I rubbed my thumb along my cock, as if I didn't know what I was doing--making its outline stand out. I thought that might make something interesting happen. Matt's eyes went right to it, but we kept talking. I loved his voice--it had changed, but still it was a lot higher than mine-- sweet, sort of. I looked at his tent a lot. I smiled at him a lot. His smiles were weaker than mine, but they were good enough for me. The game was working. "You wanna see it?" I said, almost whispering, not knowing where I got the nerve to say that. Why did I say that? It was HIS dick I wanted to see. I stood up--I thought that would make him say yes. Looking down, I could see I was tenting obscenely. Obscenely nice, I thought. Matt gulped, immediately followed by, "Yeah." With Matt's eyes glued to the tent in my pants, I unzipped. I tried but failed to get my hardon out of my briefs, so I undid my belt, and pulled pants and underpants down a little. "OW!" I said, as my belt buckle hit my balls, making me bend over in pain like a little boy--just when I wanted to be the big strong guy in front of Matt. I pushed my pants to my knees. "That's huge," Matt said in awe, accompanied by another gulp. He had a cute little Adam's apple that bobbed when he gulped or said certain words. I felt proud of myself and my nice big cock. I guessed it was around seven inches, but I didn't know. I didn't really care right then if he saw mine--but I thought doing this might lead to seeing his. "Whoa!" Matt said as my cock jumped. I could tell he was impressed but nervous. "I think he likes you," I said, smiling, feeling a strange buzz all over, my words feeding the buzz. And I still didn't know where I was getting these words. I didn't remember hearing them anywhere. Matt chuckled a bit and seemed to relax some. I felt like too much of a show-off, just standing there with my cock hard as could be, and my balls exposed. I needed to cover up soon. I was too embarrassed to ask, 'What do you think?' Besides, from his glowing stare, I assumed he was enjoying looking at my equipment. "Awesome," Matt said. Matt got up and stood about four feet from me--with a nice tent of his own. I was glad Matt was standing. I enjoyed looking at the little tent he had--bigger now that he wasn't sitting down. But what happened that made him speak out? Why had he said, 'Awesome?' I looked down at my dick to see what he was talking about. There was all this pre-cum on me. Some of it had started to drip down. This game with Matt was more exciting than I thought. I stood there half-naked too long--I was getting uncomfortable. I scooped up the pre cum and rubbed my hands together to dry it up, then pulled up my pants. Matt seemed frozen in place--with a half smile. His erection was anything but half--it stuck out more than mine. Maybe he was wearing boxers, I thought. How big could a 14-year-old's dick be? I stared at his bulging pants. I could see that his bone was thinner than mine. "Can I see it?" I asked gently. "You wanna see what I got?" Matt said, surprised and flattered-- and gulping again. But he seemed excited that I'd asked him. "Yeah," I said, with enthusiasm, but not over the top. After all, I was 17 and was three years older. And it was only fair that he take his out, too. "Sure." Matt undid his pants so fast, it was almost comical. But his eagerness to show himself to me was anything but comical --it was making me harder than ever. He did the same as I had, and pulled everything down to his knees. "Damn, it's way big," I said, giving Matt a nice grin. He had four, maybe five inches, tops. And his WAS thinner than mine. It was cute. I liked his smaller dick. Anyone who looked could tell who was the boy and who was the man, just comparing our cocks. And I liked the boy-look of Matt's little pole. Plus, I had pubes and he didn't--none that I could see, anyway. Maybe he was a late bloomer. I didn't care. "Not as big as yours," Matt said quickly. We both grinned. I don't know who blushed more, but Matt's face was sure red. A little voice in my head, very weak now, was trying to tell me this wasn't what I wanted--and I was telling it to shut up. The more I looked at Matt's dick the harder my heart beat. I wanted it bad. These were totally new desires for me, yet I accepted them like I'd always had them. "It's a cool, strong-looking dick," I told Matt, making him smile even more. "And it's way big for your size and age." I stretched the truth to make him feel good. I wanted him to be proud of himself, and not ashamed. Shame might make him feel that he should cover up. "Yeah?" he said, sounding like about 10 years old. That made my cock jump. Even though that seemed weird to me, anything that made my cock jump was okay with me. "Oh yeah!" I could tell this fed Matt's ego, but I sensed that he was feeling the odd man out--with his cock and balls exposed, and mine covered. I didn't want him to get any more nervous or put his away, so I pulled my pants down again. "Cool, Brian," Matt said with a grin. This time, I walked closer to my friend. Our poles were separated by only a few inches. If mine throbbed real hard, our cocks would touch. I looked down at Matt's very pretty dick. "Damn, that's nice," I said, hearing him take in a breath. I saw his chest swell just a bit. I really wanted to touch our dicks together, but I thought that would be too much for right now. I thought of Pete Zunk, my 18-year-old friend, all of a sudden. Pete didn't come around much, but I had a feeling he would soon. A lot of unformed thoughts went into that feeling, but it was pretty strong. I had a sneaky suspicion Pete would love to play with Matt like I was doing now--just from little offhanded remarks Pete would make about other boys that suddenly clicked in my mind now. I started to fantasize about me and Pete playing with one or two of the younger boys, and my bone went nuts. I was sure I could make that happen, especially with all the power I was feeling with little Matthew. I was sure I could charm Peter in case he needed a little push--but definitely I was going to try this game on some of my young friends. "Yours is awesome," Matt said, trembling visibly now, as his arm went up a few inches, then dropped back down. Matt's words woke me up from my dreaming about Pete, but I knew he was talking about my dick. Funny how you always know when the focus is on you--especially if it's about your cock. But the movement of his arm gave me an idea. "It's okay, Matt--you can touch it. If you want, I mean. I want you to." I reached out my hand toward his dick to let him know I wanted to touch his. Matt grabbed my big bone. "Oh yeah," I said, obviously enjoying his hand on my cock. "Ahh--yeah, I see what you mean," he said, enjoying the feel of my uninvited hand wrapping around his little boner. "Feels good," we both said at once. Then we laughed. "Wanna jerk off?" I asked. This was the moment of truth in the new game I was learning to play. Matt paused slightly, gulped again, and, less certain than before, agreed. "Um, sure." At least he gave me a little grin. "Can you shoot?" I asked, taking a chance. "Yeah!" Matt said, puffing up proudly. "I bet YOU shoot good," he said excitedly, then all embarrassed that he'd said it. By that time, our hands had retreated to our own dicks. "Tell you what--you watch me come, and tell me what you think." Surely giving this younger boy freedom to judge an older one would feed his ego. Somehow I knew a well-fed ego meant a horny dick. And I wanted him to be as horny as I was. I covered a chair with two old towels, and we got ourselves side by side, ready to shoot our loads in that direction. We probably looked ridiculous, trying to walk around with our pants at our ankles. "What about your parents?" Matt asked, seriously concerned about getting caught, his little bone shaking with each move of his body. "They NEVER come in without knocking--they never really come to my door--they just yell up the stairs. But I'll lock the door, anyway." "Cool," Matt said with a loud sigh of relief. There we were--me and little Matthew, each with our dick in our hand. As I masturbated, I looked over at Matt. His hand was doing a nice slow pull on his hot-looking stiff rod, but not fast enough that he would come very soon, if at all. "Use your pre-cum," I told him in a whisper. "What?" "Here, look," I said, showing him how I spread my stuff over my cockhead, to make it slippery, and jerking it that way. "Cool!" Matt said, as he copied my technique. "Ahh, YEAH!" he shouted. "Damn!" "Feels good, huh?" "Yeah!" "Matt, stop, I wanna try something." Matt looked scared. "I mean--if you want to." "Okay." "You're cute when you're nervous," I said--and I have no idea where I got those words from, either. "Really?" he said, giving me his best blush. "You think I'm cute?" "Do you like me being an older boy and having a bigger dick?" "Yeah, you're awesome." "Well, I think you're cute," I said, taking his hand away from his cock and putting my hand in its place. I had done that before, but he was more aroused now. "Oh, God," Matt said. I stroked his very warm penis a few times, and looked up at my hot little friend. He stared at my bone. I nodded, and was rewarded with his hand attempting to stroke me. "Mmm, Matt!" "God, that feels awesome in my hand," Matt said, his legs shaking a little. "No shit!" I added. "Your dick feels great in my hand, too." "I'm glad you feel the same way--I was afraid to say it." "You like how my cock feels?" "Yeah." Matt was really getting into this--which was totally okay with me. "I love how yours feels." I was getting repetitive. I was flying with desire, and more than happy to have Matt doing this with me. The more I stared at him the sexier he looked. But I liked doing it to him even more. "Do you jerk off a lot?" Matt asked bravely, then suddenly looking fearful. Still, I thought he was getting more and more brave with me. I liked that. "Hell, yeah. Two, three, four times a day sometimes. You?" "Yeah. Sometimes . . . more." Now here was a Matthew blush to beat all. "That's cool Matt. Maybe we'll take a Saturday and jerk off all day. You getting close?" "Not really," he said. "Me either. You're stroking too slow for me, so--" Matt laughed, "That's weird--you're going too FAST for ME." After we adjusted our speeds, it seemed like we both were getting there in a hurry. "I'm gonna shoot!" I said. "Wait for me," Matt said excitedly. But I didn't shoot. Matt didn't either, despite our best ongoing efforts. "Fuck," I said, sending fear into the boy's eyes. "Are you mad?" Matt said, trembling. "No, no. Relax. I guess we're just not used to a different hand doing this to us." "Yeah, but it feels so GOOD," Matt said, sounding baffled, apparently wanting this to work. "Why don't we get in bed on our backs. You jerk off first and come, and I'll watch you. Then I'll jerk off and you can watch me." "Way cool." "I'm gonna get my head close to you so I can see real good, okay?" "Sure," he said, obviously letting his dick think for him. Or not think at all. Hell, I was doing the same kind of thinking--and it was feeling very good. As Matt lay back on my bed, I brought my face right up to his goodies. When he was really into his stroking, I licked his balls. "Oh, shit!" Matt said, cussing, obviously liking his balls licked. Matt never cursed. "I'm gonna--ooff!" As Matt got ready to shoot his first blast, I realized he'd make a mess I couldn't hide from my mom--it would go all over the bed, and you can never wipe it all up. I started to put my hands near the head of his dick, but I quickly saw no way that would work. I slid my mouth down on Matthew's cock. "Fuck!" Matt shouted, firing hot, sweet cum over my tongue. TBC (Full list of my stories below) --Steve stevestoryman@yahoo.com Comments welcome. Suggestions (if any) will be considered for future chapters. Steve Storyman's stories at www.nifty.org 1. hot-little-brother-series 6 CHAPTERS SO FAR (NOT the same as hot-little-brother, an older story by a different author) Nifty incest/athletics An 18 y/o desires his 16 y/o brother; caring; football theme, but no tediously long game scenes; Kevin & Josh. 2. i-wanted-my-big-brother (Nifty incest) 2 CHAPTERS SO FAR A 15 y/o admires and pursues his 17 y/o brother; caring; Chad and Adam. 3. hot-teen-brian (and his boys) Nifty adult-youth 1 CHAPTER SO FAR A 17 y/o and some of his older friends discover a liking for younger guys; mild; Brian, Matt, Peter & friends. 4. boys-joys-and-sorrows-at-sex-ed-school (some s&m aspects) Nifty adult-youth 1 CHAPTER SO FAR Boys trained for mutual sex, and disciplined--nothing bad or outrageous; good sex; some orgasm-delay teasing. stevestoryman@yahoo.com