Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2023 18:06:16 +0000
From: kleiner.gespenst <kleiner.gespenst@protonmail.com>
Subject: Lessons From the Granny Flat | Part 4

These are the recollections of a boy's sexuality emerging in middle
school, and his relationship with an older tutor. This story features
consensual sex between a tween and a college student. If this work of
utter fiction violates your local laws or your moral code, close the tab.
If you enjoy this story, or any of the works here on Nifty, please chip
in to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


======================


Why do some aromas make you recoil? Science says that our reactions to
different smells is almost entirely learned (save those instincts
steering us away from poison). I'd guess the same is true for the other
senses. For instance, I can't stand the taste of tuna fish. But I used
to love it, until the winter I turned 13, and not because I got sick from
a bad batch. No, it's because Chuck Winthrope had just finished a tuna
fish sandwich before he stuck his tongue in my mouth, and I was
struggling to get away from him.

To the rest of the world, Chuck was a straight athletic freshman
attending Boise State University, and the best friend of Michael Strand,
a sophomore at the same school, who was renting my family's guest house,
and was supposedly dating his high school sweet heart, Kiera. In reality,
Chuck was Michael's secret lover, and Kiera was Michael's best friend,
providing him with heterosexual camouflage. After all, it was the the
1980s, an era not marked by widespread tolerance of gays in America,
especially in conservative states like Idaho.

Despite homophobia, little closeted queers like me could take advantage
of the hormonal firestorms raging in our middle school friends' bodies,
while they were experimenting with male plumbing. By the time they
discovered girls, they were so desperately horny they'd turn to anything
mammal and above room temperature for a moment's relief from their
taunting boners. Around 7th grade, the secret of my success was
pretending to resent dishing out a reciprocal handjob or blowie, even if
I concentrated on giving the best I could. For me, making another boy cum
the whole point.

Oh yeah, I've been into dick since I was 10. Ironically, though, until
Michael set me not-so-straight, I'd never considered myself "gay." Not
that I was ever into girls. The pussies I'd seen in porn mags were
repulsive, and even though I jerked off to thoughts of other boys, I
figured it was just a phase. According to my parents, and much of
society, homosexuality was a mental illness, if not a sin. So, I
couldn't have been gay, right? Riiiiight.

Anyway, with all that as a backdrop, our new tenant Michael quickly
became not only my very successful tutor, but close friend, and sexual
confident - all of which was related. Not only had he helped me accept my
homosexuality, but he was using it as a carrot - a very fleshy carrot,
indeed  - to motivate me with math and science. Every time I scored a
"B" on a test, he'd give me a boner rub. But an "A" earned a blow
job, with a whole lot of anal stimulation.

Of course, all of this was a secret to everyone, except Chuck.

Michael told me that at first, Chuck was amused by the reward system for
my good grades. He even winked at me and casually joked about it when the
three of us had pizza to celebrate my improved GPA.

But two months into the New Year, I was on the cusp of a 4.0 average, and
Michael was rewarding my work every other Friday afternoon. Chuck's
emerging jealousy was growing obvious with the nasty sarcasm that would
creep into our conversations.

In retrospect, it's no surprise Chuck almost raped me two weeks before
Valentine's day.

Michael had been doing some minor contracting for one of our neighbors,
remodeling a bathroom. One Saturday, the neighbor came by with a check
for the work, but the college kid was at his weekend job at the hardware
store. I held onto the envelope until I'd see Michael later.

It was a lonely day for me. My dad and sister were hitting the ski slopes
at Sun Valley, but I had a sore throat and fever, and mom put the breaks
on me leaving the house. Meantime, she disappeared for a work project,
leaving me alone with the TV, my books, and the anxious desire for
Michael to get home, so we could torch up his Nintendo. Maybe he'd feel
sorry for me and play "doctor." A boy could dream.

Anyway, though I'd fallen into a deep, dreamy nap in the den for much of
the afternoon, I woke up to the side gate's alarm sounding in the
kitchen, indicating someone was headed into the back yard. Coughing and
grumbling, I clambered out of the comforter I'd been curled under. Achey
and shivering, I was also really eager to hang with Michael.

Throwing my parka and boots on, I lumbered through two feet of snow,
across the yard to the granny flat. It was 4 pm, and the sun was close to
setting, but I didn't notice that Michael hadn't flicked on his porch
light as usual.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I was sparkling with desire. Administering customary pop quizzes at the
end of our usual Tuesday and Thursday tutoring sessions, Michael always
sat behind me and gently teased my rigid cock through my jeans. The first
two questions were always easy, and, so, by the third, my jeans were
open, and he'd be delicately feathering his fingers all over my raging
cock and balls through my snug little briefs. But typically, I'd fail
the subsequent questions, and he'd restore my clothes, while explaining
my mistakes, then send me on my way.

By that afternoon, he'd been teasing the fuck out of me, and withholding
sex for two weeks in a row. Not that I hadn't wanked myself raw
afterwards, but it just wasn't the same.

So, with my brain crammed with images of the lean boys showering and
changing at swim practice all week, I was thrumming with desire when I
knocked, and then withered with disappointment when Chuck opened the
door.

"Hey, Princess. Que pasa?"

I scowled at the interloper.

"Fuck off, jerk. Where's Michael?"

"Sorry, bud, but it's just me. Whatd'ya want?"

"What're you doing here?"

Michael's face screwed up with an indignant smirk.

"Look at you, little hard guy. This ain't your place. And I'm waiting
for *my* boyfriend so we can go out later. With other adults."

Looking at the envelope in my hand, Chuck pointed his chin at it.

"That for him? I'll hold onto it."

"Yeah, it's for Michael. But Mr. Quayle said I had to give it to him
only."

It was a total lie, but in my stubbornness and distaste for Chuck, my act
was convincing.

"He'll be home at 5:30." Chuck paused. I could hear whistles, crowds
and squeaking sneakers blaring from Michael's TV. "You could come in
and hang out. UConn is playing St. John's."

Chuck's tone had changed. It was lighter and inviting, like he were
extending an olive branch. But in reality, it was the invitation of a
spider to a fly.

"I'll make some nachos?"

I nodded with a half smile. "Cool."

After I pulled off my wet boots and shed my parka, I collapsed on the
right end of the couch in my sweatpants, t-shirt and socks. Chuck caught
me up on the game, and poured me a Coke. I was a little disarmed by his
surprising affability. It was like the Chuck I'd first met. About 6
feet, the blond Freshman wasn't on any teams, but was gym fit, and had
teen idol looks. He was just like the clothing catalog models I'd
masturbated to, before Michael had given me the secret gift of Twink porn
for Christmas.

Bringing over a steaming plate of nachos, along with a tuna fish sandwich
for himself, Chuck sat on the couch's middle cushion, rather than at the
other end. It was a vague sort of space violation, like taking a urinal
next to another guy, when one was open at the end of the row. At the same
time, he was sharing nachos with me, so it wasn't exactly rude.

Because of my sore throat, I could barely touch the snacks. All the same,
I was really starting to relax and enjoy the moment, up until the
halftime whistle. Michael muted the commercials, and turned to face me.

"I can see why you might get Michael to fuck you in the ass" he
whispered, while combing a lock of my longish hair behind my ear.
"You're really hot."

Different emotions warred inside me, while my body froze, and my head
recoiled away from his touch. Michael wanted to fuck me? How would Chuck
know that? I knew that Chuck new that Michael and I messed around, and
Chuck knew that I knew that he knew. But how much did they talk about me?
And why was Chuck stroking my hair and leaning toward me like he was
gonna -

"Come here, baby fag. Gimme some sugar."

I turned to face him in horror, just as Chuck's lips landed on mine. I
pushed back against the couch to get away, but couldn't.

Chuck held my head in place with both hands, while he pried open my lips
with his own. My mouth filled with tuna flavored tongue, and I whimpered.
I didn't want this. I didn't want to be there, and I didn't want
Chuck's hands sliding up and down my thighs then under my t-shirt.

"Nice nipps," he whispered huskily, then continued his assault on my
mouth.

In the wink of an eye, he had his leg between my knees. With one hand
holding me in place by a fistful of hair, Chuck roughly rubbed his other
hand up and the down the front of my sweat pants.

Horribly, my flesh autonomically betrayed me, quickly filling with a
hardness I couldn't will away.

"Tommy's got a hard-on..." Chuck quietly taunted in a sing-song voice.
While kissing me all over the face, Chuck's hand slid past my waist
band, into my sweat pants and briefs. Like mandibles, his fingers quickly
found their prey, and surveyed the terrain by touch.

"Feels like Tommy Tiny Meat's still a badly," he taunted. "Let's see
if his little pecker can shoot."

Finally, my body kicked into action, and I tried to buck the much bigger
late adolescent off of me.

"GET OFF!" I screamed, pushing and shoving and squirming.

"Not so fast, ya little shit!" Repressed anger crept into Chuck's
voice, while his hand crushed my little marbles in a tight grip. I
squealed in pain. "I'll turn these into nut butter."

"Please don't, Chuck!"

Trembling with fear, and gasping with pain, I froze, and let him coarsely
rub my cock, while he licked my neck. There was nothing to do but
surrender to a boy a foot taller and maybe 40 pounds heavier.

"What the FUCK?"

Michael's voice boomed, while the living room gusted with a cold blast
of winter air, and then the door slammed shut.

"What're you doing, Chuck?"

Chuck was already retreating from me when he was hit with the hurricane
force of Michael's anger and sent sprawling off the couch.

"Dude, your little slut was hitting on me!"

My jaw hung open for only a moment.

"That's a total lie, you asshole!"

While we shouted at one another, Michael quickly surmised there was
villainy afoot.

"T, you should go home. Chuck and I have to talk."

"But I - "

"I'll be over later, dude."

Pulling on my things, I remembered to give Michael his check, then
trudged home. Half-way through the back yard, I heard pitched voices
raised in anger, though I couldn't make out the words.

It wasn't until I was back on my family's couch that the tears came.
And boy, how they poured. Would Michael believe that bastard?

I'd barely stopped sniffling when I heard the side gate chimes. About
the same time, my cold was severely throttling up. I started to really
shiver under the blanket, and my throat was on fire.

I heard the back door open to the mud room, and Michael called my name.

"In here," I croaked. Laryngitis was setting in.

"Hey, T," Michael greeted me with a sad smile that quickly fled when he
took one look at me. "You don't look so good."

"So now I'm hideous?"

"Ha-ha, funny guy," Michael quietly replied, with no trace of actual
laughter. His hand went to my forehead. "You feel hot, bud. You're
losing your voice, too."

I nodded, but my cold wasn't the primary thing on my mind.

"Chuck was lying," I struggled to tell him, while my vocal cords
screeched like rusty hinges.

"Shhhh. I know. We'll talk about it later. Right now, let's get you to
bed."

Picking me up like a doll, Michael carried me up the stairs, and I hugged
my arms around the college boy's neck.

While I sat on the bed, he stripped me to my undies, then dressed me in a
set of flannel pajamas I rarely wore. While I shivered under the covers,
Michael fetched me ice water and Tylenol. He trotted back to his place
and returned with a book.

Holding up Frank Herbert's "Dune," Michael asked if I'd red it. I
shook my head, and he fluffed my pillows behind me. Sitting in a nearby
chair, he read to me from a book that would become one of my favorites.
At some point I fell asleep, only rousing when my mother and Michel were
quietly chatted in my room.

"Thank you for taking care of Tommy, Michael," she said, then gently
chided me for not calling her when my cold had taken a turn for the
worse. Back then, parents rarely skipped any commitments to care for kids
my age unless we were on our deathbeds.

While my mom left to get a thermometer and more Tylenol, Michael sat on
the edge of the bed. Gently caressing my face, he whispered that we'd
talk about things when I felt better. I started to protest, but he
quickly leaned down. His gentle peck on my lips silenced me.

"Chuck's a scumbag. He's history, T."

My heart skipped. In my delirious state, I dared to hope I would be
taking Chuck's place as Michael's paramour. Sadly, that was a fever
dream.

I didn't see Michael again until our Thursday afternoon tutoring
session, after I'd mostly gotten my voice back. All that day, I'd been
aquiver with anxious expectation, barely able to focus in school, nor
really commit to swim practice.

I dressed carefully for Michael, wearing loose, clean clothes. With no
belt, my olive khakis sagged down my skinny hips, and I had to keep
pulling them up. But that was one less barrier for him to strip me bare,
like I hoped.

As we sat at his kitchenette, Michael quickly cleared the air.

"I knew Chuck was a fucking loser - I just didn't know he was a total
douche, too," he said. "I broomed him."

Chuck had been so upset, he'd threatened to tell friends that Michael
was a child molester. But how could he do that without revealing that
he'd been Michael's lover. And Michael could just as easily tell
everyone that Chuck was a would-be rapist.

Michael turned stone sober and looked me in the eyes.

"Do you think I've been taking advantage, T? Have I been `molesting'
you?"

"Fuck no!" I loved his touch on me. And he was only 7 years older than
me. I just wished I were an older teen, so I had more to physically offer
him. Then, I told him I thought I loved him.

Puffing his cheeks out, Michael looked off in space for a moment, then
gazed into my eyes.

"Tommy, I love you, too, little squirrel. But like a brother."

We shed a couple of tears, while Michael explained the divide in our
years prevented us from sharing a real relationship for a host of reasons
(not least of them being social opprobrium and the law). Once I grew into
a man, the age difference wouldn't matter. But until I grew up, I should
be dating guys my own age.

And yet, I knew no one. How would I ever get a boyfriend as a teenager in
that era and that place?

"What about your friend Justin?"

Michael knew all about my shame over the end of my friendship with my
very best friend. He also knew me better than I knew myself. It was like
he had a window into my heart. And Michael was right: if nothing else, I
should repair my friendship.

We finally got down to my school work. I'd been applying myself in
class, and it showed. When we got to the pop quiz, Michael handed me a
list of five problems of increasing difficulty, scooted me forward on my
chair, and sat behind me. While I read the first problem, he gently
stroked inside my thighs with both hands. As usual, per Michael's
planning, I boned immediately, making concentration difficult. Still, the
first equation was easy, and Michael flayed my fly, revealing a baby blue
triangle of snug cotton stretching over swollen desire. By the time the
time I'd correctly answered the fourth question, Michael's thumb and
fingertip were steadily stroking my tent pole through the cloth, albeit
painfully slowly, while he kissed and nuzzled my neck.

"You're almost there, T..."

As often happened, the final problem was unsolvable, unless I'd
surpassed my assigned school curriculum. Given that I'd had to skip a
couple of days of school that week, while recovering from my cold, extra
work had been impossible. Per his rules, Michael should have left me
frustrated with desire, while he explained where I'd missed the answer.

But that afternoon was different.

Even as I gave up on finding the solution, Michael's fingers slid into
the fly of my stretchy briefs, and pulled my turgid meat out.

Stroking me skin-to-skin, he explained my error, but I barely paid
attention.

Those big, strong fingers were rubbing me steadily, from stern to bow. My
circumcised tip could barely take that tender friction, and yet I moaned
for more.

Michael pulled me off the chair, and lead me to the couch. By the time he
sat down, he'd kicked off his own trousers. Unfortunately, his shirt
tails obscured everything above his gymnast's thighs.

As I stood between Michael's widely spread knees, I pulled off my
t-shirt. My loose trousers had sagged half-way down my hips, revealing
three pale blue inches of the snug, low-rise briefs I'd started to wear
at Michael's suggestion. The way he gazed at my pallid torso made me
feel really sexy.

While he undid my trousers, letting them slide to my feet, I unbuttoned
Michael's shirt and spread it wide.

Michael's six inches of man-sized college cock throbbed obscenely in his
skin-tight, light gray bikini briefs. The tip oozed alluringly just above
the waistband.

Michael pulled me in, until I straddled his thighs. My tumescent flesh
bounced alluringly at him, still jutting through the fly. With a little
adjustment, Michael pulled it back in, then hooked the waistband under my
tight, smooth nuts.

I sat on his thighs, and returned the favor, releasing his glorious
anaconda, and his fat, full scrotum. Like the rest of his body,
Michael's groin was utterly hairless. Who knows what kind of body hair
he'd have had if he didn't depilate every month? Probably not much,
given that he only needed to shave his face once or twice a week.

Grinning at each other, we sighed simultaneously, then slowly caressed
one another's torsos.

Michael was so lean and sinewy from gym team workouts. The nickel-sized
nipples cresting from his solid pectorals were hard, even before I gently
pinched them.

Michael fondled my little buns through my briefs with one hand, while
gently caressing my tummy with the other. His hand travelled south, and a
finger trailed down my quaking hardness, until he reached my tight little
nut sack. Tickling my boys for a moment, he squeezed them with a gentle
rhythm, which I copied on his manly balls.

Our lips met for a very long kiss. It was gentle, with nothing traveling
between our mouths but murmured moans.

I pulled away for a moment, and gazed deeply into his warm eyes. I'd
missed the final question, and asked him why I was getting a reward,
anyway.

"Not that I'm complaining," I quickly interjected.

Michael chuckled, and gave my nuts a long, meaningful squeeze.

"It could be `cause you put in the effort."

He leaned in and planted a smooch. As we parted, he dragged his tongue
across my lower lip.

"Or it might be `cause you're so damn sexy, T."

He kissed me again, and our lips stayed in place, playing for a while.
His tongue met mine for a little dance, while his ass-fondling fingers
slid up my back, to comb through my hair.

"But it's really `cause you're my bud, and you've had a tough couple
of days."

His fingers left my head, and glided down my torso, to my 3 inches of
quivering boyhood. He slowly stroked me, while still fondling my tight
little ball sack with his other fingers. I pulled that hand off my nuts
and pulled it up to my mouth. Smiling and staring deeply into his eyes, I
slid the middle finger into my mouth. Slowly and very suggestively, I
pushed and pulled that finger between my lips, all the while sucking on
it.

He was amused by my bold ploy. But his jaw dropped when I guided his hand
back to my balls, and pushed the wet finger past the cinched undie
waistband below, and into the bottom of my crack.

"Ohhhhh? You really like that, don't you," Michael responded, with
quiet understanding.

"Uh-huhhhh....I love it."

While still rubbing my tightening nuts with his palm, Michael circled his
finger around my drain, making me shiver and sigh.

"You're really sensitive down there."

"Do you like...playing with my butt?"

"Uh-huh. You've got the world's greatest ass."

While rolling his warm, big boy balls around in one hand, I wrapped my
fingers around his slender six inches, and stroked him with the same
cadence he stroked me.

Michael's finger middle finger opened me up, and I gasped from the brief
flash of pain. But it was so worth it moments later, when I felt the
aching ecstasy bursting from my prostate. He slowly played with it with a
hooked finger, and my nuts tightened further in his palm.

"Oh right there, Michael. It's so rad!"

Absently, I stroked him faster, and he responded in kind, with a tighter
grip. Warm, itchy tingles merged with the rhythmic bliss bursting behind
my nuts. His big cock and big hands pleasured me with such power, I could
feel my climax building, and told him to jerk me faster.

Seconds later, my anus clenched around his finger, my bowels pulled on my
balls, and my cock detonated. Tingly fire silently belched out of me, and
my cock sprayed droplets of clear boy juice onto Michael's hand. While I
was moaning and gasping with each thunder clap in my loins, my hands had
frozen around Michael's genitals.

As my pulsations died away, Michael replaced my hand with his, squeezing
our two cocks together. I hadn't begun to soften, and the feeling of his
big boy shaft hugging mine kept me diamond hard. It was twice as long and
thick as my little prong, and I could feel its need pulsating like a
locomotive's engine encased in baby soft skin.

While Michael stroked us together, in a full fist, I held him by both
shoulders, and pushed up and down against the finger impaling my bottom.
My eyes closed in ecstasy. I was under the complete control of an older
boy - almost a man - and it was intoxicating.

Michel started panting through gritting teeth, and stroked us in a blur.
Suddenly, his finger stabbed deeply into me, while compressing my magic
button. I groaned, but not as loudly as Michael, and his cock spasmed
against mine. It felt like a fleshy earthquake, and his hips bucked
upward, lifting me with them.

Opening my eyes, I watched a huge rope of thick, creamy man batter fly
out of him. Some hit my chin, while the rest splattered down all over my
thighs and underwear, and both of our groins. He gasped, and a second
volley burst, almost as high. Four more jets poured from his love cannon,
with diminishing force and volume. Still pulsing, his nozzle drooled.

I was so aroused, I could feel another orgasm building in my nuts, and I
clamped my hand around Michael's drenched digits like a vice. Thrusting
my hips back and forth, I humped against his manhood, relishing the
thick, hot, slimy lubricant.

At the same time, I reached back and urged his stabbing finger onward,
finger fucking my ass while I plowed his dick.

"Uuuuuuuh!  Uhhhhh! Uhhhhh!" I moaned and groaned, and felt everything
seize inside my guts. Stars burst in my eyes, while my cock painfully
vomited again. Most likely, it wretched drily, but it was so dripping
with man cum, who could tell? No matter, it pounded and pounded, and I
sighed as the spasms melted away.

I collapsed against Michael's chest, and he wrapped his arms around me,
leaving snail trails of jism under my shoulder blades. My arms wrapped
around his neck, and we quietly hugged for a very long time, while our
slimy bodies began to cool.

Just then, the phone rang.

We sighed, and I climbed off him, frustrated when his finger pulled out
of me. Michael clambered over to the landline on the kitchen wall and
answered it.

"Hi Ms. Stolz...Good...It's going great...OK, I'll let him know. Take
care."

It had been my mom, with the usual 20 minute warning that dinner would be
on soon.

Looking at my semen-shiny belly and thighs, and seed-soaked briefs,
Michael suggested I take a really quick shower, so I didn't smell like
sex. I wanted him to join me, but he declined, knowing where that would
lead. When I got dressed, I went commando, leaving my soiled briefs
behind as a souvenir Michael never offered to return.

=     =     =     =     =


Given Michael's newly single status, I'd hoped all our time together
would always have similar happy endings, but Michael was rigidly
disciplined when he tutored me or when we socialized. Inviting me over to
play with his Nintendo never involved the joy stick in my jeans.

All the same, we were very close, and when he wasn't busy with school or
homework, I stopped by almost every weekday to chat. Within days of
blowing off Chuck, Michael was already dating again, and I had to tamp
down my jealousy. At the same time, he pushed me to hang out with boys my
age.

Remembering something Chuck said when he'd attacked me, I asked why his
ex had accused me of trying to get Michel to fuck me. Michael said it was
Chuck "projecting." Then, he had to explain the Freudian term to me.

"So in his brain, I just wanted to get butt fucked."

"Yeah. He was trying to justify boning you, without even asking
permission."

I paused, and quietly asked him, "But, um, what if I did want YOU
to..?"

Michael's jaw pitched open, and he studied me quietly for a moment.

"Is that something you've thought about?"

I nodded, and looked at my feet, then hesitantly told him that ever since
he'd first worked my prostate, I'd started playing with ass when I
jerked off at night. Very sheepishly, I admitted that "once in a while"
I imagined my self-impaling finger was his dick, and I'd even tried to
stick a hair brush handle up my ass.

"But it really fucking hurt."

"Don't ever do that again, T. You could hurt yourself badly."

Pausing to think, Michael made me two promises. First, if I truly wanted
it, he would take my ass cherry. But I had to get straight A's on my
next report card, and had to successfully complete a homework assignment
Michael gave me: reconcile with my friend Justin.

The second promise he fulfilled during our Tuesday tutoring session.

His pop quiz was especially hard, and I only got two questions right.
After he explained where I'd gone wrong, he opened a paper bag and
pulled out a strange, black silicon object that looked like a bulb with
an elongated nipple on one end, and a suction cup on the other.

Michael carefully explained the butt plug he'd bought for me, while
pulling out a bottle of lube from the bag to grease it up. By the time
I'd stripped off my trousers and undies, I was rock hard, and my three
inches twanged like a door spring.

At Michael's direction, I knelt on all fours, and rested my shoulders on
the rug. Meanwhile, Michael worked more lube into my cinching anus with
his finger tip.

"If this hurts, we'll stop, OK?"

It tickled at first, and I giggled. Then, as it opened me, I felt a
familiar discomfort. But it grew more intense, and I said it was starting
to hurt.

Michael stopped, and waited for me to relax. Then, he told me to push
against it with my internal muscles, like I were trying to take a shit.
It seemed incongruous that something could go in while I was pushing out,
but I did what he said.

Astonishingly, it worked, and I could feel it going in, widening me.
Yeah, it hurt, but not so badly. Then, all of a sudden, my asshole closed
around it, leaving the suction cup handle outside my buns.

"Congratulations, T! It's in! How's it feel?"

"Fucking awesome, man. Like really good!"

I felt a wonderful fullness, and if I flexed just right, I could pulled
the plug tap into my magic place.

Michael gave my taint a taunting rub, sandwiching my nerves by the
pressure inside and out. I really wanted his hands on my cock, but it
wasn't going to happen. In fact, he dared me to keep the plug in place
until I got in bed that night, while getting me back into my underwear.

Just then, my mom called with the heads-up about dinner. While I finished
getting dressed, my nerves were on fire from the rumblings in my
basement.

Michael made sure I took the lube with me, then gave me butt plug
pointers, like how to get it out of me when I was ready. He also
explained the suction cup could stick to a bathroom tile, so I could back
into the device, or sit on it.

Slapping the center of my ass, he sent me on my way with a shower of
sparks flying from my rectum out through my painfully swollen cock.

Of course, the dinner challenge was worse than I expected. I couldn't
stop secretly pushing and rocking into the chair, and my family asked why
I was so distracted. Was I getting sick again?

No, definitely not. All the same, I went to bed unusually early,
explaining that I really wanted to finish "Dune." In reality, I had my
own savage worm to tame.

While brushing my teeth and washing my face, I flexed my ass, pummeling
my prostate with the embedded intruder. It felt so wonderful, I actually
skipped to my room, passing my sister. She just rolled her eyes and
murmured, "so fucking gay."

Thank God we really loved each other, and I just laughed. She gave me
nothing but shit privately, though it was never mean-spirited. Publicly,
she'd fiercely defend her little bro to the death.

Turning off the lights, I stripped to my tight little briefs in front of
the mirror. They were orange, which appeared dusky brown in the
moonlight. Rubbing my hands all over my slender little body, I still
couldn't see why Michael found any of me sexy. Climbing under the
covers, I continued caressing myself, pretending my hands were
Michael's.  The hand feathering my throbbing bulge wasn't almost 13,
but rather almost 21. It was a college boy's fingers stroking either
side a few times. And it was his cock pushing into me, nailing my tender
place.

I could feel my balls tightening, but I couldn't stop the force building
in my bowels. My hands slid into stretchy underpants to squeeze my
scrote, and stroke my hardness. I'd rubbed it maybe 3 times when it felt
like a pile driver punched through my nuts into my little cock. I grit my
teeth and held my breath, choking off a shriek before it could be born.

Stars exploded behind my eyes, and my hips throttled up and down, while a
volcano surged from my anus to my knob. The fiery bursts should have
blown the roof off the house. And yet, after 7 or 8 of the most violent
spasms I'd ever felt, I was still alive. At the same time, nerve endings
from my toes to my scalp sparkled, and my body randomly shuddered for a
minute or two while I caught my breath. As I regained my senses, I felt
my undies and fingers were damp, though not as wet as the perspiration
trickling from my armpits.

Could beating off ever get better? I just wished I could introduce Justin
to my latest discovery, and that's when I knew I had to restore our
friendship.


=    =     =     =     =     =


The day before Valentine's Day, I cornered Justin. It was awkward,
torturous, and embarrassing in so many ways. Like giving birth, I guess,
because in the end, we made a new life together. When we parted that
afternoon, our eyes were red and our faces stained with tears, and we
could barely peel apart from our long hug. We made plans to go skiing the
following weekend, and he would spend the night at my place afterward.
But that's another story.

I was going nowhere that Valentine's weekend, because my parents had
planned a romantic getaway to...fabulous Wyoming? Anyway, Sarah was
supposedly hanging with her best friend over the weekend, which really
meant with her boyfriend Nick. That left Michael in charge of me, for a
reduction in rent, and he was supposed to sleep in the guest bedroom. In
retrospect, the only person oblivious to everything going on was - as
always - my dad.

That Friday night, after everyone else had hit the trail, Michael's new
"best friend" came over for dinner. Michael definitely had a type, and
his new companion, Frank, was tall, handsome, willowy, blond and could
pass for a 12th grader. In fact, he really was a high school student - a
senior who'd just turned 18. All the same, as my sister would later say,
Frank looked too young for a driver's license.

Anyway, he was gracious and had a good sense of humor. But you know what
won me over? He was into Dungeons and Dragons . That first night, we
tried initiating Michael into it, but it would be a long seduction that
would take more than a couple of months. By the time that happened,
Michael and Frank would be spit roasting me on a weekend camping trip,
but that is also another story.

Anyway, I fell asleep reading "Dune," while Michael and Frank had some
adult time together downstairs. That I was only mildly jealous was a
testament to the fractional growth of my emotional maturity.

I greeted daylight with my customary grumpiness, and I growled when
Michael gently shook me awake.

"Come on, Tommy-bones. Let's get that party started."

In my briefs and long-sleeve t-shirt, I was stumbling into Michael, while
he lead the way downstairs, to a stack of pancakes higher than my head,
dripping with butter and maple syrup. My Sweet Lord, that was something
to behold, and something impossible to conquer. I got about half the
stack into my belly before I tapped out. But with my blood consistent of
50% sugar, I was ready to grab the morning by the face.

Sitting beside me and sipping coffee, while wrapping my neck in the crook
of his other arm, Michael kissed the top of my head.

"I'm sorry I can't get to your swim meet this morning. But I know
you'll kill it."

He had to train with his gymnastics team, then put in half a shift at his
hardware store. He dropped me off at the recreation center on his way to
Boise State.

Spending the morning at an indoor pool with 100 other boys in Speedos
wasn't a terrible way to start the weekend. I'm not sure what I
appreciated more: winning a couple of medals, or the sight of water
streaming down the tight, round buns of naked boys 10-16 years old in an
open shower room. Thankfully, that was still a time when America hadn't
yet shamed kids about their bodies, and hygiene was still important.  Of
course, awkward boners were part of the total package, which I was glad
to see them strike some of our competition after the meet.

At Michael's insistence, I went out for burgers with a couple of guys
from my team, socializing beyond simple workouts. It turned out that
making friends was still easy - especially if they were cute - and we
made plans for 3-on-3 pond hockey the next day.

I hoofed it over to the library for an hour, to finish some extra credit
homework. In preparation for the adventure Michael had promised, I
slipped into a men's room stall, lubed up my butt plug, and eased it
into my heinie. Then, I explored the sci-fi aisle until Michael picked me
up after his hardware shift.

His car had barely pulled into traffic when impulse took over, and I
struggled around my shoulder belt, to hug Michael around the tummy.

"Mmmmmm...."

I was just so happy to be with my older friend. My big brother by another
mother.

"Hey tiger!...Tommy the Tiger..."

Michael sighed, and steered the car with one hand, while combing his
fingers through my long hair with the other. I rested my head on his lap,
and I could feel a stirring under my cheek. Rotating my head, I gave his
hardening groin a kiss, then closed my eyes and let his bulge massage the
side of my face. Damn, I was exhausted and contented, and felt warm and
protected. Despite the prostate-stimulated arousal from the butt plug, I
started to doze off, even while we pulled into the driveway.

I hit the shower after Michael used it. Though I hadn't needed one after
the swim meet, I had to poop out the butt plug. Using the spray nozzle, I
made sure my tush was so pristine it could have been a museum exhibit.

I was a little nervous while pulling on just enough clothes to stay warm
- a pair of snug pink briefs Michael had given me, a bathrobe, and wool
socks - then bounded down the stairs.

Michael had a fire going in the family room, with drinks, chips and
guacamole at the ready. He was watching Canadian hockey, and gave me a
grin when I landed on the couch beside him.

He looked so sexy in the flickering fire, dressed in nothing but long,
silk thermal underwear and wool socks. The shirt and pants tightly
defined his muscle contours invitingly. Curling under his arm, I rested
my head on his lean, yet powerful chest, and he stroked my long, damp
hair, while catching me up on the game.

By half-time, his hand was caressing my lean hip. Purring, I stretched
out that upper leg, while keeping the lower one curled, opening my
bathrobe's southern region. My prong was pounding in my stretchy
underpants just below the loosening belt.

Naturally, his hand glided to my pinkly bound swelling. Dragging his
forefinger up and back, Michael very lightly teased me at an agonizingly
geological pace. Whole civilizations could rise and fall by the time he
moved from my base to my peak, and back. It tickled and tingled so much
it made me shiver.

I'd been casually stroking the inside of Michael's thigh, thrilled by
its coiled power. Glancing down, I found his brawny third leg was kicking
up the front of his tight, navy leggings. Naturally, my finger tips
mirrored Michael's, lightly brushing his quaking length through the
satiny material. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, and I could make
out every enthralling detail of his length. Soon enough, a dark spot
started forming near the waist, putting the contours of his circumcised
head in cameo relief.

Lowering my head, I could detect a slightly yeast fragrance, just before
I kissed the tip. Dragging my tongue around the wet spot, I detected a
vague sweet saltiness, then sealed my lips around the knob. Sucking it
through his silk underpants, I pulled a sigh out of my friend, and I felt
his thumb and index finger clasp me through my briefs.

He stroked me more firmly, while I continued to lick and suck his knob,
and the hockey match on CBC went ignored.

After I pulled a couple more moans out of Michael, he climbed off the
couch and helped me to my feet. Michael pulled off my robe, then shed his
long underpants. We smiled at each other with deep affection and desire;
a 7th grader in socks and tight pink briefs, and a college boy in socks
and a long undershirt, with a hemline draping to either side of a six
inch erection. Both of us were utterly hairless below our eyes, and we
quivered with just a moment's hesitancy.

Then Michael took me in his arms, and pressed his throbbing cock up my
tummy, while he bent down to give me a very slow, but very passionate
kiss. Rotating his head, he explored every bit of my mouth with his
tongue, then let me into his mouth.

At the same time, he strummed up and down my rigid, cotton cloaked
boyhood like it were a guitar with one hand, while squeezing my firm and
slender buns with the other. A minute later, he was clasping me firmly,
and stroking me steadily, and I moaned up into his mouth.

He kissed up my cheek to my ear.

"All that swimming's turning you into a total stud," he whispered.

Then, I squealed from his tongue drilling into ear. It tickled
intrusively, and yet was so arousing my hips reflexively pushed my turgid
prong against his firm, bare thigh.

"Let's get totally naked," Michael whispered, and a moment later, our
remaining clothes were clumped nearby.

"God, you're such a hottie, T."

"You're the hottie," I replied, admiring the way his long, sinewy
muscles gracefully flowed. His prominent abs were framed in an oval,
which came to rest a top a tight muscular "V." And his moist cock -
what a whopper!

At 6 inches, I later figured out it was about average. But for a middle
school boy, it seemed as impressive as the alphorns on Ricola
commercials, and I couldn't wait to blow it.

Falling to my knees in worship, I filled one hand with his full, yet
tightening nutsack. It was smooth and sticky and warm like dough.

I gripped the middle of his shaft firmly, with a full fist, and stroked
him from his depilated base to his knob and back, until milky ooze formed
at the tip. Then, I leaned in and licked it up. Unlike his full
ejaculate, Michael's precum had only a vague hint of sweet saltiness,
and I was thirsty for more.

Jacking him a little faster, while rolling his heavy balls, I licked and
sucked all around his head. I stopped stroking for a minute, and kissed
up and down his shaft. Pursing my lips, I sucked on discrete little
sections all over his iron hardness, teasing the fuck out of him.

"So good, T. Ooooooh, yeeeeeah."

Wrapping my lips around one of Michael's manly nuts, I sucked and licked
on it for a moment, and started jacking him again. Just before I moved
onto his other testicle, I wet my middle finger, and slid it up his
cleft.

I was getting over my Number 2 issues, especially knowing that Michael
prepped himself for sex even more conscientiously than me. So I was eager
to tickle grunts out of my man by tickling his back door, and sucking on
his other ball.

"I'm getting too close, T," Michael huffed, asking me to stop for a
second.

Pulling me to my feet, he switched places.

Starting with my scrotum, he sealed his lips around the smooth half dome
at the base of my three inches, and tickled my barely descendant nuts
with his devilishly tickly tongue tip. I shivered, and my cock beat
against his nose.

Kissing up to my tip, he palmed my sack, and held my base with one hand,
while caressing my tight little bottom with the other. Michael flicked
his tongue on the under side of my knob, making me shudder and groan.
Then, he treated the whole thing like a lolly pop, sucking and licking on
it for several minutes, until I begged him for more. I was desperate for
friction on all of it.

He took a moment to wet a middle finger, which he slid up my divide,
while rubbing my nuts with his palm. His finger twirled around my tunnel
just as his mouth engulfed my knob, then slid all the way to my naturally
hairless base. While rhythmically swallowing his copious saliva, his
cheeks undulated, and wetly swabbed me. It was like my cock were in a
tropical storm.

All the while, he stared up into my eyes, meaningfully, tenderly and
lovingly. Those piercing, green eyes were like dark tourmalines, and
utterly hypnotic. And he was clearly delighted by the ecstasy ripping
across my face, when his finger easily breached my bottom.

Sliding back off me, he smiled up at me.

"I guess you loosened things up, huh?"

"Uh-huh," I slowly nodded, biting my smiling lower lip. Then I gasped
when I felt a second finger enter me. When both fingers were two knuckles
deep, he gently strummed my button with a few "come hither" motions,
which buckled my knees.

Wrapping his other arm around my buttocks for support, Michael got me
back on my feet. While slowly fucking me with two fingers, he kept
rubbing my balls gently, and engulfed my knob once more. Staring up at
me, he sucked hard, bobbing up and back until my high pitched moans piped
out with every exhalation, and I told him I was about to cum. Relaxing
his mouth, he let my cock flop like a fish on his soft, warm tongue, and
he stopped finger fucking me until my tattered breathing slowed, and my
whining disappointment evaporated.

Starting up again, he held my base with his free hand, and masturbated my
knob and stem against one loose cheek for a while, then the other, all
the while lashing his tongue underneath.

Sealing his lips around me again, he sucked up and back quickly for
moments, curling my toes, then slowed down for a while. Sliding back to
the tip, he sealed his lips around the helmet edge, and tormented me with
rippling movements, while lashing my tender knob with his tongue. At the
same time, he'd made an "o" with his thumb and forefinger, and wanked
me in time with the fingers going in and out of tight little bum.

Once again, he got me perilously close to the edge, and I was thrashing
and wailing with my tell-tale moans. This time, though, Michael's mouth
and fingers completely disengaged from my body, and I growled with
frustration. My poor little cock was painfully engorged, and rioting for
release.

Climbing to his feet, Michael smiled down at me, and embraced me tightly.

"My sexy little lamb...Are you absolutely sure you want this?"

"Yes - yes - a thousand times, yes, Michael. Fuck me in the ass!"

His gaze was mesmerizing, and he lead me in front of the fire. There,
he'd spread out a fluffy bathroom rug; the kind that's super soft and
super absorbent and big enough for an almost-13-year-old to get on all
fours.

I was trembling with anticipation when Michael spread my cheeks. I heard
him slowly inhale, taking in my peppermint soapy fragrance, then felt his
lips purse against my rosebud. While he lightly caressed my slender
melons, he kissed my boy hole several times before his tongue twirled
around my partially opened porthole.

Grazing on just the rim at first, he slowly swabbed me with wet tickles
for a few minute. He released my buttocks, and they sandwiched his cheeks
with rubbery firmness. His hands glided forward, between my legs, and he
tickled both sides of tight little grape sack with his thumbs a few
times, and I giggle moaned. His hand continued on, sliding like tentacles
past my hips, until his fingers interlaced in the small of my back.

Hugging my ass tighty to his face, Michael seriously dined on my tender
hole. Moving his tongue in and out, he set my nerve endings ablaze.

Fully submitting to Michael, I moaned and gasped from the wonderful
wetness in my tender channel. He sucked on my starfish's lips a little,
then his tongue glided around the circumference like a dripping
ballerina.

My body was shaking, and I started pushing my ass back, wishing his
tongue were big enough to fill all of me, head to foot. My imagination
went sideways, thinking about his tongue snaking all the way up my
throat, to wrestle mine from behind; it was something so disgustingly
funny I started laughing.

Michael pulled away for a moment.

"Ticklish?"

"Something else - I'll tell ya later. Just keep doing that, Michael!"

"You'll like this even more."

I heard a plastic bottle uncapping, followed by hands slickly rubbing
together. Two warm wet fingers slid into me, all the way to my magic
place, and I squealed when they briefly played with it. Then, I groaned
when a third finger joined the party, stretching me painfully. Michael
patiently waited for my gates to relax, then slowly pushed in and out
until the fire disappeared, replaced by the most marvelous sparkles.

"Are you ready, T?"

"Oh hell yes, Michael. Put it in me!"

I heard a different squelching sound, while Michael greased his man meat.

Gently pushing my shoulders to the floor with one oily hand, he used the
other to aim his fiercely swollen flesh at my hungry hole. The tip
entered my partially gaping entrance, and Michael reminded me to push
outward, like I would were I taking a shit. Then, he pushed forward

Though he wasn't very thick, and I was pretty loose by then, his bellend
still split me like a canned ham. It stung sharply, and I sucked in my
breath. A moment later, it popped through.

"That's the hard part, mon frere."

"Yeah, it's hard alright," I giggled.

Michael waited until I was ready, then pushed a couple of millimeters
further. With gentle micro thrusts back and forth, he slowly burrowed
deep within me. When he rubbed against my prostate I groaned from both
the achingly delicious pressure, and the exhilarating knowledge it was
his dick making me feel so good.

In another minute, he was balls deep in me. I felt the top of his big boy
scrotum slap the bottom of my tight little testicular ball.

We both sighed, and took a moment to share our rapturous union. I felt so
full. It was an utterly enthralling sensation that's difficult to
understand until you feel another guys's rock hardness pressing against
you and twitching from inside.

Slowly, Michael pulled back until his head almost popped out of me, then
pushed back in again, just as slowly. I sighed from the marvelous tingles
lighting up my anus, and groaned from the savory friction rolling along
my prostate.

"God, you're so fucking tight, T!"

"Oh man, you feel so good in me, Michael!"

In and out. Back and forth. Michael was thrusting slowly at first. But
after a couple of minutes, he pounded me faster. His shallow breath sped
up, and he groaned with delight. Soon, he was pumping me hard and fast,
and the room echoed with the spanking of flesh against flesh, and a
slightly squelching rhythm.

I'd been on a hair trigger since Michael had Frenched my boy hole, and I
could feel my climax climax building. If he'd even touched my cock,
it'd have been all over.

We must have been on the same wave length, because suddenly, he slowed
down to a snail's pace, then stopped. His cock was wildly flexing inside
me, and I have him a gentle squeeze with my rectal ring.

"That was close," he huffed.

"Tell me about it," I chuckled.

It took a while, but Michael's glacial pace picked grew faster, and the
tingles in my  bowels were bursting into my balls again.

"Yeah, Michael. That's...uh! So rad! Fuck my ass!"

"I'm gonna pound your little butt so hard!"

He thrust into me with a growing fury. But after a minuter or two, he
halted again, and delicately pulled out of me. I whimpered with
frustration.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard, baby boy. And I want to see it."

Rolling me over onto my back, Michael pushed a couple of throw pillows
under the fluffy mat, to raise my ass up. I held my knees to my chest
with my hands, while Michael briefly caressed from buns to my inner
thighs and back. After relubricating his throbbing weapon, he aimed it
against my tight little target.

Michael leaned forward, and pressed my bowel muscles outward. With a
brief pop of discomfort - not really even pain - he knob was in me.

"I'm good, man. Go on."

Replacing my hands with his own, he used the backs of thighs for
leverage, while keeping my knees pressed to my skinny little chest. Then,
he leaned in further, pushing into the now much tighter channel,
instantly punching into my button.

I gasped with joy, and he tried to push a little further, but he could
only get half of his steely man muscle in me. And it felt so good! So
hard! I thought I could feel the pulsations from his heartbeat, but it
was really his inflamed cock flexing on its own.

Damn, that broad shouldered, 6-foot stud looked magnificent, mounting me
on his knees. His slender, muscly torso poured like a funnel into his
slender, yet muscled hips, which were now pressed against the firm ovoids
of my upended buttocks. His chiseled face had the soft skin of a teen,
without a hint of facial hair.

And that was a good thing, because I loved kissing, and would only learn
much later about whisker burn. But not that night, nor ever in the two
years Michael rented the guest house.

His lips were soft and pillowy against mine, yet insistent. And we kissed
for a minute or two. Mirroring his pounding member, Michael impaled my
mouth with his tongue, and I fellated it for a moment, then wrestled it
with my own tongue. With a final smooch, Michael pushed himself up off my
chest, using the backs of my thighs as hand holds.

Pulling back just a couple of inches, Michael didn't pause before
plowing back in, to steamroll my magic garden, then bounce back out
again. The friction on his knob must have been tremendous, because he
grunted when he pushed, and moaned when he pulled.

But that was nothing like the explosive force building in my bottom, I
gasped for air when he pulled back, and squealed with joy when he punched
back in.

Michael had been ramming me steadily for less than a minute when I felt
my balls tightening. Hell everything was condensing in my butthole,
pulling my whole body with it. And before I could even warn Michael, I
shrieked, and my anus crushed down on his pecker. My eyelids slammed
shut, while the 4th of July exploded in my eyes. I was just a life
support system for my hairless prepubescence, while it vomited a thin
spray of watery boy juice all the way to my nipples. And then I squealed
again, when my cock labored to eject a more minuscule load. My torso and
bowels violently squeezed again and again, but I could only drool a
couple more droplets.

Panting, I opened my eyes, while my pulsations melted away. Michael had
stopped mid-pump and was studying me with amusement.

"Keep going!" I growled. "Cum in my ass, man!"

He didn't need me to beg, and rammed he with a short fast burst of
rhythmic squelching. Battering my prostate, he not only kept me hard, but
had my balls pulling again, and I moaned in time with his passionate
exhalations.

Suddenly, his hips kicked violently, an inch deeper into me, and an
animalistic grunt blasted through his gritting teeth. Hot man lava burst
inside me. He pulled back and plowed in again, roaring like a manticore,
and a torrential flood of semen washed into me like an equatorial dam had
burst.

Pumping and pumping and pumping, he was starting to slow when mytesticles
contracted again, and my innards compressed. It felt like a blacksmith's
bellows were pumping out of my dick, but it barely drooled. Even so, 5 or
6 explosions ripped out of my little boy cock, curling my toes, and
working my lungs like an air horn.

I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember was Michael
lying on top of me, hugging me tenderly, and kissing my jaw and neck. My
legs we flopped out widely alongside each of his legs, and I felt drained
and exhausted.

For the moment.

While shaking with random after shocks, we tenderly caressed one another.
Slowly, we uncoiled from around one another, and Michael helped me to my
feet.

"You ready for a little chow, my man?"

"I could eat all the food, Michael," I replied. I was genuinely
famished. "I gotta hit the can, first."

While I sat on the pot and shit out what seemed like quarts of boy juice,
Michael got to work in the kitchen. Though happy to see a total absence
of fecal matter when I flushed, I couldn't believe the viscosity of
Michael's swirling load. As he'd find out years later with a pregnancy
surrogate, he was the very definition of fertility. Were it possible, he
could've given me a butt baby.

Anyway, I pulled on my undies and robe, then joined Michael in the
kitchen. Likewise, Michael was once again snugly wrapped in his tight
thermals, thought not because the kitchen was any cooler than the den.

"Never work a stove naked, my man."

It was sage wisdom that would save me from many an embarrassing burn in
the future, I guess.

In minutes, he slid a couple of bowls of pasta with sautéed mushrooms
onto the dining table, as well as a fresh salad.

While we replenished the calories we'd burned in Pound Town, I filled
Michael in on my visit with Justin, and how we had were planning to spend
the next weekend skiing.

"That's awesome, Tommy! I knew things would work out."

By Michael's reckoning, a lifelong friendship was worth fight for. And
as I'd find out later, Michael's conjecture about Justin's sexuality
was spot on. Within a month I'd have my own boyfriend, albeit on the
super down low, for a while.

We chattered on about other things, while Michael cleaned up the kitchen.
Then, he pulled a small heart-shaped cake out of hiding in a cabinet,
along with a can of aerosol whipped cream from the fridge.

"Belated happy Valentine's Day, T."

"Whoah! That's so rad, Michael. And it matches my undies," I noted
with a giggle.

Opening my robe, I compared the slinky little pink briefs with the
rose-colored treat. They didn't exactly match, but Michael chuckled with
appreciation, saying he wasn't sure which treat looked sweeter.

Turning a slender hip toward him and slowly rubbing my butt cheek through
the skimpy, skin-tight material, my amateur moves were alluring enough to
turn him on. The lump pressing out the front was a tempting hint of what
lay concealed inside. Hell, those skin tight boy panties aroused the fuck
out of me, squeezing every single nerve ending.

I forgot all about the cake, hoping to serve Michael some more of my rump
roast. Certainly, his eyes were riveted to the way my undies started to
stretch, while discarded my bathrobe.

I climbed up onto his lap, and sat facing him, with my cloth bound buns
resting on his lean, corded thighs. Clasping him with both fingers behind
his head, I told Michael what I wanted for dessert. To emphasize the
point, I pulled his hand onto my thigh, just below my leg elastics.

"You naughty little perv," Michael replied, with a chuckle.

At the same time, he caressed up and down my slender thigh. Then, hooking
a thumb under a leg opening, he slid his hand around to cup a butt cheek.
A tent was forming in the front of his pants, and I helped it grow by
lightly feathering it with two fingers.

Leaning forward, I planted my lips on his for a long and tender smack.
Rotating my head a little, I opened my mouth, and felt his tongue
tickling my lips. While squeezing my little bottom with one hand, Michael
pressed the flat of his other hand against my turgid trouser snake, fully
hardening it.

I quietly moaned in his mouth, and wrapped my fingers around his rigid
man meat. While I gently stroked him through his satiny base layer, he
rubbed his palm up and down the front of my briefs, and our kissing grew
ever more passionate.

Never breaking our kiss, Michael shoved the cake out of the way, then
wrapped his hands around my waist, to pick me up. Setting me down on the
dining table, and standing between my widely speak thighs, he caressed my
back for a moment, while his tongue wrestled with mine. Then, I felt his
hardness pushing against mine, though the thin membranes of our
underwear.

Slowly, he ground into me a few times, and I whimpered into his mouth.

Breaking away from his lips, I whispered that I wanted him in me, again,
then kissed his neck.

"All in good time, kiddo."

Michael stepped back and gave me a warm head-to-toe once over. His eyes
twinkled with warmth and deep affection for an elfin 13-year-old
quivering with need, and dressed in nothing but socks and undies.

Pushing me onto my back, Michael bent over and caressed my hardness with
his face, and sighed. He gave it a few kisses through my underpants,
before pulling the front down, and hooked the waistband under my nuts.
Then, he gave my nut sack a very gentle kiss.

"Close your eyes, T."

I had no idea what he had planned, but his surprises were always amusing.
So I happily complied.

I heard a cap pop off, a can being shaken, and then the slushy sound of
whipped cream jetting out of an aerosol can.

I squealed from the shockingly cold sweet dessert topping burying my
genitals, and my legs reflexively kicked. My eyes flew open, and I
cackled with laughter from the mountain of whipped cream covering my
junk.

"Now there's a treat," Michael said, with a chuckle.

Sitting back down in his chair, Michael scooted forward and slurped on
me, while caressing my hips with both hands. The sensation of his tongue
sliding through the whipped cream was both arousing and ridiculous, and
my giggles turned to moans, then back to giggles.

In minutes, Michael had consumed the pile of whipped cream, and was
licking the sticky, sweet residue from every corner of my groin. His
tongue took long, leisurely laps up and down my painfully engorged,
3-inch flesh sickle, and my breathing grew faster. Michael's other
fingers toyed with my tight little balls, amplifying the sparkling,
steady wet friction.

Holding me by the base, Michael aimed my enraged wet prong skyward, so he
could drag his tongue up and down upper deck. Every time it rolled over
my knob, I gasped.

After slowly tongue lashing me a few minutes more, I was panting, and
begged him to make me cum. But my pleading went ignored, and he kissed
his way down to my nuts. His lips sealed around them, and spent some time
sucking and licking my smooth, round scrotum. I could feel my climax
looming distantly, but it couldn't get there quick enough, as far as I
was concerned.

Taking my cock between a thumb and two fingers, I started stroking
furiously.

"Jack it hard, Tommy. Pound that thing!"

He was utterly captivated by the sight of my savage masturbation, and the
way my face crumpled with pleasure. Later that year, he'd videotape me
jerking off - as well as other things we did together. For the moment,
though, he committed the image to memory, and sealed his lips around my
knob.

Tickling and squeezing my balls, he sucked on my glans, while licking my
pee-hole and frenulum. My hand was a blur of motion, and the combination
of friction on my shaft, the wet maelstrom on my knob and the warm
compression on my `nads had me over the edge in moments. My tattered
breathing turned to piping moans.

"UUUUh! OH..Here it...Arrgggh!"

Just as the muscles contracted behind my balls, Michael hooked both
thumbs inside my left and right leg elastics, and pulled my bunched up
underpants hard into my taint. The jury-rigged cock ring's pressure on
my prostate was astonishing, constricting what little discharge I could
make, and making it savagely intense. Of all the formulas I learned from
my tutor, this became one of my favorites.

My orgasm was so intense I screamed and convulsed, exploding my tiny load
in Michael's mouth. He sucked me even harder, and I stroked and stroked,
pulling more pulsations against Michael's tongue. At last my climax
faded, and Michael let my sensitive organ slide from his mouth.

While I shook and my breathing slowed, Michael pulled my underwear back
in place. Lifting me up, he sat me on his lap, and I rested my head in
the nape of his neck, while glowing with bliss.

"Did ya come?" Michael asked, facetiously.

"Barely," I chuckled.

He combed his fingers through my long hair, and kissed me on the cheek.
Meanwhile, I could feel his hard eel squirming in its silk grotto,
thumping against my bottom.

Reaching under me, I gave it a firm squeeze, and stroked it slowly.

"Wanna fuck me in the ass, again?"

"You're sure?"

He was worried about hurting me, but I assured him that I was only a
little sore. I really wanted to feel that fucking thing filling me up
again. It was pure electric magic.

"Besides, you can cool things off with that," I added with a giggle,
pointing at the whipped cream.

Grinning, he shook his head in wonder at my impish vulgarity.

After lifting me back onto the table, he retrieved the lube from the den,
then pushed me on my back. This time, though, he hoisted my knees up to
my chest, and I hooked my arms behind them to hold my legs in place.

Chuckling with amusement, he sat down again on his chair, and caressed my
bottom through my briefs. His thumb traveled up and down my crack for a
moment, then he peeled the back of the waistband to the top of my thighs.

I heard the can shake, then I felt the nozzle enter me! I giggled,
thinking he was kidding, then shrieked when I felt cold foam shooting
inside me. Though my body reflexively convulsed, I also shook with
laughter.

Then, Michael filled my crack with whipped cream, and I sighed. It
actually felt arousing as hell, and my cock pounded with need.

Caressing my buttocks with both hands, Michael leaned in and slowly
devoured another serving of creamy me. First, he sucked and swallowed the
central mass. Then, he took his time, licking every bit from one wall,
then the other. It took so long for him to get to the valley floor that I
was shaking and gasping when his tongue finally glided from top to
bottom. Stopping to briefly kiss and suck on my taint, his teasing made
my toes curl.

At last, his tongue twirled around my well-worked hole, and he moaned
with pleasure when he easily pierced into my literally cloying cavity. He
went deep into me, and I shuddered from the insane sensation of his
tongue lashing all around my tender tunnel. Though my skimpy undies were
very soft, my cock was so sensitive, I winced when it flexed
involuntarily, and dragged my knob across the material. It took
monumental self control to not hump my own undies.

Finally, Michael pulled out of my bottom. Rising to his feet, he leaned
between my knees.

"You really do have a sweet ass, T."

He grinned and I giggled, and then our lips met, so our tongues could
share the flavor.

Our mouths parted, and he whispered, "See?"

Pulling one hand from behind my knee, I reached down and felt around for
Michael's huge hard-on. It felt like rubber-coated steel, wrapped in
slippery silk. I gave it a firm squeeze, and slowly stroked the shaft.
Michael closed his eyes and sighed.

Fumbling around, I pulled  partially out through his long-john fly, and
rubbed the head against my anus meaningfully.

"OK, you little slut. Gimme a sec."

Michael rose back up, pulled his cock back into his long underwear, then
anchored the waistband under his smooth, fat ball sack. Filling one palm
with lube, he rubbed his hands together to warm the liquid, then
slathered it all over his cock. Greasing his hands again, he worked a
copious amount into me, making me grunt when he hit my prostate.

He was about to enter me when I asked him we could do it the other way -
doggy style. I wanted to feel all of it in me.

He rolled me over so that my chest rested on the table, with my feet on
the floor.

"These are totally sexy, T, but they gotta go."

I felt my boy panties sliding to my ankles, and I raised my feet so
Michael could pull them off.

Michael spread my legs widely, and caressed the insides of my thighs.

"Damn, you've got great legs, Tommy," Michael quietly observed. "And
a killer ass," he added, squeezing my rump.

Pulling one of my buns to the side, he used the other to line up his
granite hard love limb against my well of desire.

I felt only the mildest discomfort when his knob popped through, and then
a burst of sparkles when he hit my danger zone.

"Oh, that's so awesome! Keep going, man!"

But Michael penetrated me slowly, wary of hurting me. At the same time,
as he told later, I might have been loose enough to enter, but I was
still the tightest fuck he'd had in years. All the same, he was filling
me, wall to wall, with shimmering bliss.

At last, his artificially barren pubis came to rest against my naturally
bald ass. Skin to skin, we sighed in delight. Carefully, Michael pulled
back, then pushed in again.

The flaming tingles shooting from my inner and outer rings were
breathtaking. Literally, I was gasping for breath in moments, and Michael
was still thrusting with a gentle cadence. But he was an experienced top,
and from his higher angle, he made sure to plunge downward, punishing my
button with every pump.

Holding onto one shoulder and the opposite hip for leverage, he pushed
and pulled, and gradually picked up speed.

"You're so hot and tight!"

"Oh man, you're so big and hard. Fuck me harder, Michael!"

Having emptied his balls once that night, it took a while for his orgasm
to take root. Every so often, he pulled his hand off my hip to give me a
teasing  spank, then squeezed my scrotum just long enough to pull moans
from my lips.

In minutes, he was plowing me brutally. His hips slapped my bottom loudly
and quickly. My prostate was rhythmically bursting with electricity that
shot across my body.

"I'm so close, Michael!"

He smashed me like a meaty jackhammer. Grunting with every thrust, he
pumped my rump like it was the last sex he'd ever have.

I pushed back, meeting his thrusts with my hungry bowels.

"Gonna cum, T!"

Heaving and panting, I moaned something unintelligible. Then I Michael
firmly gripped my three inch throbber with a thumb and couple of fingers.
It took maybe three strokes, and I cried out from the explosion in my
bowels and balls. My rectum crushed Michael mid-thrust, but he rammed
through, pillaging my prostate again.

Some where beyond the drumming of my own heartbeat and anguished joy
howling out of my mouth, I heard Michael moan, and his hips throttled
violently into me. My own cock was pulsating so hard, and my brain was so
overwhelmed, I barely registered Michael's penis kicking inside me, much
less his hot, fertile goo flooding my canal.

At last, my shattering climax faded, and so did Michael's. Slumping
forward, he lay atop me, while his erections softened inside me. The
sensation of being filled with someone's rigid love is so indescribably
reassuring, and the way Michael cradled my wilting cock and balls in one
hand, I couldn't have felt more safe.

By contrast, the feeling of a cock melting out of you is a river of
disappointment. Nonetheless, the cooling semen trickling down my thighs
was a pleasant reminder of just how intensely we'd fucked.

Michael pulled me upright, turned me around, and held me in a tight
embrace.

"I've never cum like that, T. I don't know if I will, ever again.
You're just...so...amazing."

"You know, if we try real hard, I'll bet you could," I murmured.

Michael laughed, and kissed my shoulder.

"Not tonight, sweet boy. You wore me out."

He was partially correct. The next, and last orgasm I pulled out of him
that night wouldn't be nearly as intense. However, it was our mutual
masturbation in the guest room that finally wore us out. But well before
then, we took a long bath together, and then attacked the heart-shaped
cake, while watching TV.

It wouldn't be the last time he fucked me. In fact, owing to his
tutoring, my mostly straight "A's" meant I got a long, hard ass
plowing with almost every report card. Of course, as we fell in deep
relationships with other boys, the sex I had with Michael was the sort of
physical love brothers often secretly share. And because his pop quizzes
were almost impossible to ace, he mostly kept me on a razor's edge of
desire during the week.

Our friendship flourished well beyond the two years Michael rented the
granny flat, and endures today. His lessons not only helped me become an
ace student, but made me the man I am today. Thank you, Michael.

======================

The end. If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed this story. And
please donate to Nifty.

A related Young Friends tale:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/justins-journal/