WARNING: This story is about an affair between a boy and a young man. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.
Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.
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By John T. S. Teller.
There's no hesitation when Rebel presses your hand onto the soft cotton soccer shorts he's wearing, and you can clearly feel his erection tucked away in the underpants beneath them. He's breathing heavily into your neck when he manipulates your hand; rolling it across and around the small, stiff organ. Then, after he's used your fingers to manipulate it until it's sticking up his tummy, he releases your hand and allows you to fondle him, puts his hand around the back of your head, and buries his face even deeper into your neck. Apart from the fact that you're using your left hand rather than your right one - which would be easier for you - you're in the perfect position to masturbate him, because rather than fumbling blindly, you can see exactly what you're doing.
He opens his legs to give you better access, but, even when he's done that, to give him the greatest satisfaction, you need to release his penis from the constrictions of his shorts and underpants. There are three ways you can do that: you can push your hand up the legs of his shorts and reach him that way; push your hand down inside the top of his shorts, or you can take his shorts off. You decide to go via the hands-in-the-shorts route, and maybe get to remove his shorts after you've got him over the initial shock of being felt at. So you pull his Barcelona shirt up his body, and run your hand across his tummy before sliding it under the hem of the white shorts and down to the warmth of his special place. You do it firmly so as not to tickle him, and when you reach as far as you can get, you take both his ballsac and his penis in your hand, and fondle them. They're hot and slightly sweaty, but at least they're available to explore.
While you're feeling at his balls, you knead his penis with the heel of your hand, rolling it across his lower abdomen. Although his ballsac is tight and crinkled, you can feel two testicles that are probably half-formed. Maybe more than that, but they're not full sized ones. You didn't expect them to be after you discovered that Rebel has no pubic hair anywhere. That excites you, because a hairless boy is what you like most. After you've felt at his balls, you concentrate on the stiff organ that's as hard as a nail. How long is it? Maybe ten or eleven centimetres from base to uncircumcised crown? Whatever, the main shaft is rippled with expectant, rigid, engorged tissue, but the swollen glans is spongy, and the foreskin pliable enough to roll on and off the crown without causing Rebel any discomfort. Obviously, he's played with himself often enough to make it like that, and he never flinches when you roll the foreskin back and caress his fraenum with the tip of your finger, nor does he object when you put a thumb and two fingers around it and squeeze it.
All the while you're doing this, Rebel is making soft moans, and then he lifts his head until you feel his lips kissing your neck. He stops kissing you, and whispers, "Do you want me to take my shorts down?"
You'd been thinking exactly that before he said it, so you whisper back, "Just lift your bum, and I'll do it."
The shorts and light blue underpants slip easily down when he lifts his body from the sofa, and when he relaxes back onto it, they're just below his knees. This is a fantastic sight, but you want more, and you pull his Barcelona shirt up to his armpits until he's naked from just above his nipples (which are aroused and erect) to his knees.
He's gorgeous; even more beautiful than you thought he would be, especially when he alters his position so his body is stretched out. Because your right arm is around him and underneath the pit of his right arm, you're holding him such a way that he can't slip down and off the sofa. He's slim, and not heavy, and holding him is not a problem while you caress the contours of his chest and the superb, inverted curves of his waist and down the outsides of his hip and onto the soft, delicate thighs below them. His navel is perfection, and you can clearly see the umbilical cord where it's been tied when he was born, and the valleys each side of the abdominal muscles are deep and pronounced, leading to a beautiful penis that is slightly upward-curved, and throbbing as you explore him. But Rebel isn't interested in being explored: he wants sexual release, and after you've consumed enough of his beauty, you concentrate on doing just that.
You use two fingers and a thumb to manipulate the foreskin on and off the bloated pink head, doing it slowly at first until you see his lower legs rise from the floor until he's rigid. He crosses his ankles, and you watch his body contorting as the climax builds. The grip on your neck increases; his mouth opens, and his teeth sink into you. He lets out a loud wail, and you feel his body shuddering as he reaches his peak. Of course, you keep your eyes on the urethra to see if anything comes out of it, and you're overjoyed when a small amount of semi-white seminal fluid seeps from it and onto your fingers. Rebel is at the perfect age you like boys to be; on the cusp of manhood, and you've just experienced the most beautiful, sexual moment of your life in giving a boy his first experience of the pleasure of mutual, male sex. Just one more sexual thing to do now, and when Rebel has relaxed completely and his penis has slowly deflated; you squeeze all the seminal fluid from him, bring your fingers to your lips, and suck it off them.
The taste is unique and like no other taste that you've ever experienced. Being a scientist, you know all about the elements required for creation, and just knowing that you're swallowing Rebel's bodily fluids gives you great satisfaction. For you, it's part of your psychology: to possess the sexuality of the creature you're mating with, and you feel an overwhelming sense of achievement at what's just happened.
Rebel has not pulled his shorts and underpants up, but has pulled himself up on the sofa so that he's more comfortable when he relaxes his hold on your neck and strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. He stares into your eyes, and you can tell that he's more than content to be with you.
Half naked, Rebel is settled into your arms; quiet; content as you gently caress his beauty, no doubt like you, deep in thought about what's just happened. The racing cars are still speeding round the circuit, but they're of no consequence. This afternoon was about what's just taken place and not about watching TV. From the first time your eyes met, this was the inevitable consequence of a series of random events that, for you, leave you filled with a great feeling of contentment. But does Rebel feel the same? You need to know, so you lift his head, smile at him, kiss his nose, and ask, "Are you OK?"
He nods. "Uhuh. Are you?"
You kiss him again. "Yes. It was the most beautiful moment of my life." You kiss him softly on his lips. "I didn't think anything could be as beautiful as you are. I could eat you!"
Rebel grins. "What did you do with my stuff?"
You pull a silly face. "I thought it was cream out of a bun, so I ate it."
Rebel giggles. "Was it as nice as cream out of a bun?"
You nod. "Nicer. Much nicer. Do you want to pull your shorts up?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No. I like looking at you. You're beautiful." You smile into his eyes. "The first time I saw you I wondered what you'd look like with your clothes off."
Rebel grins. "You're not disappointed then!"
You give him a mock, angry look. "No! What is there to be disappointed about?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. I thought you might have been disappointed that it isn't very big. I haven't even got hairs yet."
You fondle the naked skin just above the base of his soft penis, and then look into his eyes. "You're perfect. Just how I hoped you would be."
Rebel seems happy with your reply, and with a sexy look in his eyes, says, "Do you want me to take all my clothes off so you can see all of me?"
"Would you like to?"
Rebel stares into your eyes for a while, and then smiles. "Yes. I want to show you all of me."
"Can I take them off?"
"If you want to."
You smile at him, take hold of his Barcelona shirt, and pull it over his head. When you've placed it on the sofa, you get off and kneel by his feet. He lifts his legs and you remove his trainer socks, and then slip his shorts and underpants off completely before placing them with his shirt. Then, still kneeling, you spread his legs and run your hands over his knees and along the top of his soft thighs. He's watching you, and when you fondle his ballsac and roll his soft penis in your fingers and it becomes fully aroused again, you know he's thinking the same as you are: that you want to kiss it.
Permission is granted without speaking a word. Rebel slowly slides down the sofa and opens his legs wider at the same time, inviting you to do it, so while you're still staring into his eyes, you lower your head and take the delicious organ between your lips and suck on the end of it. Rebel reaches down, pulls his foreskin right back, and leaves it for you to do as you will.
You begin by holding the base and kissing along its length, and then, after you've sucked the pink head a few times, you kiss his ballsac and the inside of his silky thighs. You lift his ballsac and try to run your tongue along his perineum, but it's a struggle to get to it. When you look at his face, it's serious, and he's staring intently at you. Again he knows what you want, and when you put your hands under his knees and exert pressure, he helps you by lifting his legs and resting his feet on the edge of the sofa. You lean forward and slurp your tongue along his perineum before getting his balls in your mouth and tonguing them. Then you go back down and concentrate on what you can access below them, even touching his anus before licking up to his balls again. Rebel doesn't stop you, so you push his legs some more, and they fold easily onto his chest, giving you access to KISS MY ASS.
Rebel's anus is beautiful; pink and clean around the small puckered entrance, and when you pull his buttocks open with your thumbs, the ruby red of his rectum is without a trace of faeces. You lean forward, kiss it, and look up at Rebel staring lustfully at you. He nods. You have permission to enter, so you insert your tongue as far as it will go. The look on Rebel's face is one of pure bliss, and again he nods at you to continue. You work your tongue around inside him, and he reaches down to pull his buttocks even wider. He wants more, and you give it to him by going even deeper. When you rotate your tongue, he rotates his bum, and when you push deep into him, he pushes out at you. You've read about doing this, and Rebel must have, too, because the ease at which he's adapted to the introduction and the experience is something that only someone who has desired it would know about such things. This may be the first time in reality, but there's no doubt that it's happened in both your fantasies before now.
Rebel is old enough to know his way around the internet. The `birds and the bees' of homosexual acts will be familiar to him, and he'll know about rimming and every other deviancy by now. But seeing them and experiencing them is two different things. Mutual sex requires that you both like doing it, and it seems that you've both hit it off with this particular act.
You spend a long time enjoying yourself in his boy hole; tasting it; sucking it; slurping greedily at it, but when Rebel releases his buttocks and begins to masturbate himself, you decide to finish off the act by doing what you originally intended to do: you pull his legs down, take his throbbing cock in your mouth, and begin to suck him off. It doesn't take long, and again you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure when Rebel pushes your head down and arches from the sofa to crush his pubic bone against your nose, and lets out a high pitched, sensual wail of delight while his penis spasms to an intense, throbbing, neuromuscular dry-orgasm in your mouth.
When the throes of sexuality have passed, you plant oodles of soft kisses on his deflated penis, put on his socks, push his underpants and shorts up to his knees until he takes hold of them and pulls them right onto his body, and then you get up and help him put on his Barcelona shirt. When he's dressed, you sit beside him, and he folds into your arms.
To be continued...
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