Date: Sun, 7 Mar 2004 18:41:09 -0500 (EST) From: Captain Swing Subject: I Think I'm Going To Like It Here--4 Author's Note: Chapter 3 was meant to be the end of the story, but due to the great number of requests (at least 2 or 3) I've written one final installment. Consider this Chapter 3, Part 2. In the days after the big move our house was in constant turmoil, and Mom did her best to make it worse. She managed to find a thousand things for me to do and was always dragging me somewhere: to find a new doctor, register for school, join a new church. Eventually it came time to decorate my new room and she roped me into that too. At least I managed to talk her out of a "Cowboys and Indians" theme, after Dad joined in on my side. So I didn't have much opportunity to try and hook up with Chris again. I thought of him all the time, but the few times I was able to ride by his house either his car wasn't there or somebody else's was. I hoped I'd see him out in his yard, but only ever saw some little kids, presumably his brother and sister. I knew I couldn't just knock on his door and ask for him. With the local schools finally out for the summer I met some kids my own age and made friends with a few of them. I settled into a sort of normal thirteen-year-old summer existence, which was fine. It got so I mostly thought of Chris when I was in bed at night or when I jerked off, which of course I still did at every possible opportunity. I wondered if I dared to try and see if some of my new friends might be interested in fooling around with me like Chris and I had done, but I was afraid to make the first move. I eyed the promising bulges one or two of them had in their shorts and thought about what might be in there, but I just didn't have the nerve to try and find out. It was late August when I finally saw Chris again. Some of my friends and I had gone to the local park after dinner; we were kicking around a soccer ball, not really playing an actual game, mostly just hanging out together. It was still summer and still stayed light late. It was a warm evening, almost hot, but somehow it felt like fall was not too far away. School would start the next week. There were a bunch of older guys, four or five of them, sitting around some picnic tables at the far end of the playground. It was my inclination to avoid them; the age-old war between young kids and older ones too often led to problems. But one of my friends recognized one of the guys as his brother so we drifted over toward them. For whatever reason, maybe because my friend and his brother actually liked each other, there seemed to be an unspoken truce and they accepted our presence without hostility. One of them was Chris. He didn't speak to me but he acknowleged me with a slight widening of his eyes. I understood: he couldn't act all buddy-buddy with some young twerp in front of his friends. And I didn't know how I'd explain to my friends how I knew him. So I quietly joined my friends on the ground and we mostly just listened to the older guys. One of them threw us a leftover half-full bag of potato chips and we ate those. I gathered from their conversation that they were mostly former highschool pals who had gone off to different colleges and were touching base with each other one last time before returning to school in the next few days. After a half hour or so the group started to break up as guys, older and younger, began to drift off home, in different directions. I looked at Chris and he caught my eye. He sort of jerked his head in the direction of the parking lot so I headed that way. I'd reached the lot when Chris caught up to me. "Want a ride?" Happily I'd walked to the park rather than ridden my bike. We got in Chris's car. "I couldn't really talk to you back there." "I know. It's OK." He turned and smiled at me. "So, how ya been, Champ." "Good. Good. I rode by your house a few times but I never saw you. I didn't think I should just knock on the door." "Good thinking. I mean, it would have been OK but it's probably just as well you didn't." He looked at me for a few moments then gave me a sort of conspiratorial smile and reached out to put his hand between my legs. "How's 'he' been?" I grinned. "Good." "Been giving him lots of exercise?" "Yup. Every day." "Excellent." He started the car and we drove away. He put his hand back on my crotch and left it there. I did the same to him, squeezing softly. God it felt good. We drove to a McDonalds. Neither one of us was hungry so he bought us each Cokes and we sat in his car, drinking them and rubbing each other's cock and balls through our pants. "Why don't you let him out for some air?" "Here?" He looked around; the parking lot was busy at that time of the evening. "No, this is no good. Let me think...I know." We drove to the High School nearby and parked at one end of the huge empty parking lot. There were just a couple cars, some distance away, and a few people playing soccer or something at the far end of the playing field. "This should be OK." I quickly unfastened my pants and pushed them and my shorts down past my knees My dick stood straight up. Chris stared at it. "Beautiful." "Chris, do you think it's bigger? Has it grown any? "Absolutely." He chuckled a little. "I don't know. Maybe a little. It's only been a couple months. Give it time--it'll grow. Anyway, it's fine just the way it is now." He reached out and stroked it lightly. "It's perfect." He glanced at my face, then leaned down and took my cock in his mouth. They say things are never as good the second time around. They are wrong. Chris's lips slid up and down on the shaft, warm and wet, going all the way to the base then back up to the head, faster then slower. His tongue did acrobatics around the crown, licking, flicking, driving me nuts. I was in his car, I was back in his room, I was in heaven, I was nowhere, in some sort of void where the only thing that existed was my cock. My suddenly spasming cock as I shot as hard as I could shoot into Chris's mouth, so hard I wondered if it stung him. He made no complaints though, just continued to softly suck out the final drops and lick me clean. Finally he leaned back in his seat and smiled at me. He must have known from the look on my face that he didn't have to say "How was it?" I looked down to where he was vigorously jerking his own hard cock; he must have taken it out while he was sucking me but I hadn't been aware of it. I knew what I had to do--what I wanted to do. I moved his hand away and sunk my mouth down over his glistening dick. Whoops. Not so fast. I started to gag and quickly pulled away, choking and coughing. Chris laughed. "Not so fast there, Tiger. Take it slow. You'll get the hang of it. It's easy if you just take your time." I tried again and started on just the head. This alone was a mouthful, kind of like having a golfball in my mouth. But it felt better than a golfball and as I got used to it I was able to take in some of the shaft as well. I also tried to copy Chris's tricks with my tongue and eventually got up what I thought was a pretty good rhythm. Chris seemed to think so too and started to breathe harder. I wondered if he was close, when a sudden thought made me stop and pull away. "Why'd you stop!" He sounded more desperate than angry. "Chris, what's it taste like?" "What?" He was exasperated but trying not to show his impatience. "When you cum, what's it going to taste like?" He took a couple of deep breaths and seemed to be considering the question. "It's not bad. You're not going to love it; it's not whipped cream. I don't think anybody sucks cock because they like the taste of cum, at least nobody I know. But it's not awful. It's not going to make you want to throw up or anything." "Oh." I went back down on him. He'd lost his edge, of course,and we had to start over, if not from the beginning at least from the middle. But I sucked with more confidence and was able to take in another inch or two. All in all, it was probably a good thing I'd stopped. Soon Chris was breathing hard again and then, as he made a sound like a combination of a sigh and a groan, my mouth filled up with warm goo. I wasn't aware of individual spurts. it was just all of a sudden there, sort of sour, sort of salty. Sort of neat. Sort of disgusting. He was right, I didn't love the taste, but I'd tasted worse things. I swallowed it down; it didn't occur to me to spit it out. It left a coating in my mouth and on my lips but I didn't mind. As we lay back in our seats I had to ask. "Did I do it right? Did I do it OK?" "You were great. Fantastic." He assumed a theatrical. mock-elegant voice. "Marvelous. Superb. Magnificent. Extraordinary. Unprecedented. Vandemonious." I laughed. "You made that one up." He laughed too. "Maybe." He looked over at my dick, long since hard again. He put his hand around it. "Here, let me do you again." He blew me again. Vandemoniously. I was quickly squirting happily into his mouth again. If it wasn't quite as intense as the previous cum, that just meant it was a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10 instead of a 14 or 15. As I zipped up, I looked over at his cock, flopped on his thigh like a fat pink....I don't know. Like a big beautiful fat pink cock. "Do you want me to do you again?" He looked down. "No. I was just letting it dry off." He stuffed it back in his pants. "We have to go." I knew we did; it was almost completely dark. He drove me home, letting me out a few houses away from my own. We said our goodbyes and I ran home. Mom saw me come in. "There you are. I was wondering. You're going to have to start coming in earlier, school will be starting soon." "OK Mom" "What's that on your shirt?" I looked down to where a glob af Chris's cum must have dripped out of my mouth. I wiped it off with my thumb. "I don't know." Mom clucked her tongue and turned away, the incident already forgotten. She hollered up the stairs at my sister. "Are you done yet, Baby." I went to join my dad in the den and we watched the end of the baseball game together. THE END