It lifted into a high bright curving arc that seemed to hang in casual suspense, then finally took this long slow curl forward, cascading down and crashing with a near-white splash against the dark surface. That was what had really caught Kent's interest in the first place. Not the waves offshore, not the sights and sounds along the beach, not even the way Wes surfed just as well as any of the pro-boys. Nope. It was the faultless way that fine straight shock of Wes' bright blond hair flew over his forehead, sprayed out playfully against his deep summer-tanned skin, and swept straight off the side of his face.
Kent had watched it every summer now for the last few years. It faintly fluttered in the light breeze under an early sun as Wes would grab his board off the bed of his little pickup truck, stroll casually across the sand and stride out to the water. Or at the end of a long afternoon, the straight dark mass that was plastered against Wes' forehead would slowly lighten while it dried under the long rays, his slender fingers finally sweeping up through it absently once, letting that perfect light blonde arc slide right back into place.
That was it. That awesome couldn't-give-a-shit-but-perfect-just-the-same blond hair, straight and cut short except for that cool little flip over the side of his forehead: that's finally what really made Kent get a board himself last summer.
Aw, I don't mean it was just the hair or anything. Wes had it all: tall, smooth, defined swimmer's build, steel blue eyes, and a face that made every babe take one look and just know he had to be the hottest fuck on the beach. He got 'em, too -- a lot.
And hey wait; it's not that young Kent didn't get plenty of looks, too, man. His eighteen-year-old frame was fuller than Wes', but it was gym-chiseled and cut perfectly. And even though his jet black hair and quiet dark green eyes were a real contrast against Wes, his face was just as awesome-looking and the chicks were fuckin' dyin' to get boned by him. The difference, of course, is that Kent had to work at it: comb the hair, pump the iron, snap some zits, search for the right clothes -- all that fuckin' shit to try and look just right. It worked, but it was everything Wes had never had to give one fuckin' thought to in his whole nineteen years. It made Kent want to be just like him. And that made Kent want to get close to him. And not only did that turn Kent into a surfer -- it turned him on to something else he'd never felt before.
Wes wouldn't know that, of course. He didn't really know much of anything actually, and it would never occur to him that his natural studfuck looks and style would be magnetizing to Kent -- or the main reason why they would be. Wes only thought waves, and the fucker was mindlessly straight as a skeg besides. But inside, Kent knew why. At first he had all the right reasons, like the hair, ya know? The dude was so cool, so perfect, everything Kent wanted to be like and be around. But after a long while he finally admitted it was more, if only way deep down back in the nastiest corner of his mind. Somethin' about Kent was goin' queer for another boy, for Wes.
Fuck, how could it be? Kent was one of the coolest guys around. He was new to the surf maybe, but he was just as graceful a jock. All through high school every dude admired his athletic skill on the diamond, and every chick chased his tight ass. Hell, he liked girls -- and he had boned a few. "Dudes like that aren't queer," he told himself, ". . . except me sorta." And then each night, in the darkness of his room, after resisting as long as he could keep the thoughts out, finally he'd break down and do it. Very slowly, his fingers would slide under the waistband of his Calvin’s while his thoughts drifted nastily over Wes' body.
"So like it was this totally krakkin' ass day on the waves, huh dude?" The carefree SoCal voice yanked Kent back to the beach. There was Wes, standing in front of him, dripping with saltwater, jamming his board into the sand beside Kent while he whipped a towel around and began mopping his dark, hairless chest. "You looked derelict out there today, dude -- no shit," he said with a pearly smile as he fumbled with his boardshorts.
Kent tried not to stare at the small brown nipples, the tips pointing stiffly out off of Wes' tight flat pecs, as Kent continued stuffing his things into a small gymbag. "uh . . . wow, thanks. I'm really only just getting started at it though."
"Yeah, I know. I've been watching -- more this summer than last though. But I've seen ya. No shit, dude, yer startin' to kick. No grom, mind ya."
" . . . thanks . . . ."
"--Wes. I heard it's 'Kent', right?"
"Yeah, I . . . uh . . . Kent." And then Kent just stared stupidly. With all his regular buds he never had to think twice in a conversation. But right now, he could only stare back, unable to think of anything cool enough to say.
Wes solved it perfectly. "Wanna come over for a brew ‘n chillax awhile, bro?"
Actually, he didn't even make Kent wait till they got to Wes' place for that. By the time the bare-chested boys had their boards in the back of Wes' truck and had settled into the cab, Wes had popped a beer from an ice-chest and tossed it to Kent as Wes concentrated on the drive and the truck squealed out onto Pacific Coast Highway.
Suddenly Wes took a sharp screeching right and began heading steeply up a winding road into the hills above Malibu. "Yer gonna love this place I got, dude," he boomed over the radio.
Kent could only wonder. He couldn't believe this was happening at all. In minutes a little bit of a buzz started setting in from the brew though, and soon Kent was lightening up, answering questions, telling Wes about how he was falling for surfing, how he’d miss the baseball team now that he'd be leaving his high school buddies behind, but how he was also getting stoked about going to UCLA this fall.
"Yup, the kegs are cool and the chicks'll make ya drool." Wes had not gone on to college, he said, at least not yet, but he was invited to all the parties. "A frat would be cool. You gonna rush? Try the DIKs. Great way to get pussy. Hey, you got a woman, bro?"
"Well . . . no. I was going out with this one girl, but. . . ."
"Hey, yeah, I know how it is. Blew off mine about three weeks ago and haven't been gettin' any either. Nobody I really want right now. Lotta this, right?" Wes' hand dropped into a fist in his lap, and he pumped at the air lazily. "Man, my fuckin' nads are so stuffed they're gonna crack soon." He looked out the side window over the canyon, and his voice got soft, nearly drowned out by the radio. "No big deal though, I guess. I'll get it soon." He paused, lit a cigarette and said softly, "besides, I always did sorta get off on spankin' the stick." He stared off dreamily for a second, then added in an almost-whisper to himself, "smackin' off's pretty sweet, actually." Finally he grinned and winked. "And besides, yer hand don't cost ya dinner, huh dude?" Kent just hoped the boner that was suddenly springin' up in his trunks didn't show. He willed it away as best he could.
In another minute they were there, the sun dropping quickly as Wes searched around in his shorts for a key. At first Kent thought they were just going through the garage into the house, but once Wes opened the small side door and pushed Kent in with a friendly arm, it was obvious that this one room, a barely converted one-car garage, was all of Wes' place.
It was wild. There was junk everywhere: cardboard boxes, sports equipment, a bike in mid-repair, and piles of clothes. Plastering the walls were tons of surfing posters, several of Wes' favorite Penthouse centerfolds, and a Miller beer sign he'd ripped off from some bar.
And so they stumbled in across the oily cement floor.
At one side of the garage was an old sofa loaded down with more stuff. Nearby a neon sculpture of a palm tree glowed softly beside a low beat up table with a TV and cheap VCR. And in the far corner was a sort of makeshift curtainless shower in a tiled basin that was only partially walled off.
"The can's in there," Wes pointed out, nodding at a door that used to lead into a tiny utility closet. "I just got this place a couple months ago. My first. Cool, huh?" It smelled half like the seashore and half like a locker room. Kent instantly loved it, too. He could picture the babes getting balled all night long into the sofa, slapping with the sound of getting rammed by a bonehard teenboy.
"Guess I oughta wash the salt 'n sweat off, dude," said Wes. "Wanna take a shower, too?" Kent nodded with a half-shrug. "Cool. Go for it, bro."
Kent dropped his little gymbag beside the sofa, stepped over near the shower, and began to fumble with his damp trunks, hoping he wouldn't go all hard again like some fuckin' kid. Wes would be able to see anything in that open shower -- that is, if he even noticed. He heard Wes flipping on the TV and tuning in to MTV. But after he'd stripped and headed into the tiled shower, he was stunned when he turned at a sound and found Wes right behind him, busy pulling down his shorts.
"Soap's over on that ledge, bud," said Wes as he dropped his baggies to his ankles. "Kinda like bein' back in the school gym with a shower like this, huh?"
When he’d stripped, the bright whiteness from his hips to his thighs contrasted sharply against his deep tan. His soft cock hung long and thick over two hefty eggs. A fat vein trailed around the side of the cut shaft.
He stepped in beside Kent and twisted the water on.
Somehow Kent kept his dick from popping up while the boys soaped themselves, but still he snuck plenty of glances down there when he could get away with it and tried to guess at how long that dude's boner would stiffen up to. Maybe even seven inches, he figured -- way out-classing the five-and-a-halfer he'd repeatedly measured with care. Still, he liked his own short, thin boydick enough. The few girls who had played with it did, too. When they fondled and mouthed it, they always told Kent how much stiffer he could get than the other boys. He wondered how stiff Wes got. Did he stick out like Kent did, or did he poke up when he threw one? Had he maybe even ever wondered about stuff like that himself? But if Wes even took a casual glance down at the other boy's shrunken cut cock, Kent never caught him. No doubt, figured Kent. Stuff like that never crossed a real straight dude's mind.
By the time Wes was soaping his crotch, though, the wheels were really spinning in Kent's head. Everything about dudesex was quickly bursting through the surface of his thoughts in this scene. Hard as it was to admit, he really was queer for this guy, and he just had to figure out a way to get further. Scared? Fuck, yeah. He'd never done nothin' with a dude before, and he was sure Wes never had either, might even thrash him for bringing up the idea. But would he ever get a chance to get Wes like this again? Alone, naked, cunt-less for weeks. He watched Wes washing himself slowly down there, both hands swirling soap around his low-hanging nuts and faintly thickening shaft, tuggin' it out a few times, his eyes closed under the spray as he sang softly along with Green Day pounding from the TV: "when masturbation's lost its fun, you're fucking breaking!"
Kent just knew he had to come up with some nasty plan here tonight. He'd dreamed about it too long. It was time to finally admit all the way what he'd been wanting for a long time now -- to mess around with another guy, with Wes. Nothin' too queer -- just beating him off. But he really wanted to get into feelin' and jackin' this surferdude's long wet board. But fuck -- how?
Soon they were trading places under the showerhead to rinse off. As they stepped out, Wes tossed a towel to Kent and the boys stood together drying themselves. Wes put nothing back on but simply whipped open the tiny refrigerator and threw Kent another beer while grabbing his first. Fuck, the dude was so chill with himself. So Kent just stayed naked, too, as Wes swept his arm across the sofa and sent a heap of wadded t-shirts, dirty underwear, sweaty jockstraps, and worn wax blocks flying.
"Have a seat, bud," he said, and the boys sat bare-assed, side by side, watching MTV. This gave Kent the perfect angle for sneaking more great sideways looks at that heavy beachboy dog hangin' across Wes' smooth thigh. He really liked that thick vein that swirled around the shaft. And he really liked the way the boy's big cockhead swept back and flared up into a strong, deep-cut ridge. Even totally soft, it was a complete turn-on to see.
Hmm, it had been awhile since he'd gotten any, Wes had said. Just maybe he was horny enough already that Kent could get him into it. Maybe just a little on the dumb side, too. That might help. And around this sofa there was a faint odor of sperm. This must be where he beats off, Kent thought, and not all that long since the last time -- probably to one of these Penthouses or Playboys lying around. Perfect.
In a little while, he was ready with his careful strategy when Wes playfully slapped Kent's thigh and said, "so, bro, whatcha wanna do? Go out 'n hunt for cunt?"
"Well," Kent responded, "first I was thinkin' about maybe gettin' high."
"Full on! If you got the herb, I got the matches. I haven't done it too much, but I get off on it. So, you got some weed?"
"Yeah, in my bag." Kent leaned over and grabbed the little gymbag from the floor beside them, fished out a small thin joint, and held it up to Wes. "It's sorta weak though."
Mild as it was, in a short while they were getting a little toasty. Both boys were slumped down deep into the sofa, slender tanned legs hanging long and casually out in front of them, passing the last of a roach back and forth as MTV looked better and better.
"This is wicked shit, bro," Wes finally giggled softly. "I'm gettin' cashed. It's cool, huh? I like the way it makes ya really get into the music. Fuck, it makes everything feel so right."
"Yeah," Kent mumbled softly, "makes ya jus' wanna lay here forever." He paused just long enough, and then added, "only thing missin' is some pussy to pound. This stuff always makes me get all horny, but not enough to get off my ass and go chase it."
There was a quiet moment before Wes responded, his head back, eyes closed, "yeah . . . me, too." Then he fell silent again, dreaming of chicks.
Finally, as Kent laid the tail into an ashtray, he casually mentioned how hot the chick on the cover of a nearby Playboy looked.
Wes leaned in close to him with a dazed grin and said, "hey, dude -- if yer gettin' horny, ya wanna see somethin' really chronic? Check this out." He reached down under the front of the sofa and pulled out a hard-core porn magazine. "I just got this thing down at that dirty bookstore off the strand last night. I never saw nothin' like it before, bud. Check out these pictures." Kent leaned in close and Wes even slid closer until the boys were sitting with their hips almost touching as Wes held the magazine between them. He flipped slowly through the photos of young chicks, firm tits and glistening lips. Just past the magazine, Kent could see Wes' dick slowly beginning to plump just a little. So did Kent's.
Several pages later the shots got harder, showing the women playing with their pussies, their wet fingers massaging their clits. Kent was finding it a little tough to keep his dick down all the way now as he saw Wes' cock begin telescoping. It had also grown a little fatter, although it was still mostly soft. But he was sitting so close that Kent could also faintly hear his new buddy's breathing increase.
He noticed something else, too, even before Wes remembered it was there: on each page now there were smeared fingerprints, then an occasional dried splotch, probably splattering spit. Finally it became obvious that the boy had slicked his bone, smacked himself silly, and had eventually sprayed a powerful load all over a spread of two girls going at each other. There were thick bubbly strings of clear-whitish goo splashed across the paper. It was so thick that in a few places it still looked just barely damp. Then the next two pages were stuck together completely.
Wes began giggling slightly with embarrassment as he tried to pry them apart, and Kent looked over to find the kid's face reddening. Wes didn't mind dudes knowin' he spanked it, but he'd never even told anyone how he jizzed his Penthouses and now this thing. And fuck, here he was showin' his wad to another boy -- way more than he'd figured he could ever let a dude in on.
"Looks like ya really liked it, huh?" said Kent with a slight dirty grin.
"Uh . . . yeah, I guess I sorta forgot I messed all over it like this, man." He looked quickly away from Kent's face. "I was pretty hammered last night."
"It's cool, bro. I like to beat off with dirty pictures, too. I love porn."
Wes' blush faded some. No worries, the dude was bein' cool about the sperm. He looked at Kent nastily. "Oh yeah? Then I bet ya my nuts you'd get off on this video I rented, too."
"Fuck yeah, man. Let's see it!"
Wes hauled himself up slowly and stood, his long wide surfboard hangin' out over his big beachballs, his prick thick and extended but not up yet. He went over to the TV and flipped on the VCR. As the tape started, Wes came back over and sat beside Kent again, just about as close as before, but trying to look casual as he laid one hand a little over his crotch as the video began. Kent sorta covered himself some, too.
The boys watched intently as the action kicked in quickly. "Actually, I spunked it to this thing last night, too," Wes soon admitted. It's hot."
"A couple loads, huh? Yeah, I jerk off a lot, too. Especially when there's no hole to jam it into."
Wes laughed a little nervously. "Even when there is -- for me at least. I'm a horny fucker, dude. . . . Um, to tell you the truth, actually I spurted up three wads last night, first on the rag and then twice to the tape. I was ragin'." He paused a second. "Is that cool? I mean, how much do you beat off, bud?"
"About the same," Kent said lightly. "Two, maybe three times a day, sometimes even more. All the boys probably do it that much, don'tcha think?"
Wes met Kent's glance and smiled a little as he thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so. I always just sorta wondered if I did it too much or somethin'. Pretty lame, huh?"
"Nah, just curious. I've wondered about other dudes slappin' it, too."
“Woah, that thrusts. It's sorta cool to finally talk to a dude about this shit a little. I never knew how to bring it up." Wes let out a breath and gave Kent a sly, brotherly grin. "And it's way cool to know ya spank it as much as me, man."
The video had turned hard pretty fast, and so had both boys now. Kent was mostly sneaking looks down at Wes' crotch rather than the video, and he peeked more and more as the dude went pretty quickly on the bone, first lengthening out fully, then bobbing up higher with each pulse until it was completely sticking up in the air past the cover of his hand, almost seven curved-up inches aimed toward the kid's face. Kent's own dick followed right along, stiffening rapidly into a hard young dagger that pointed straight at the ceiling.
Soon, hands just fell to their sides as neither boy made any pointless attempt to hide what was happening. Even Wes figured they were totally cool with each other about this stuff now. Besides, what would any dude expect to have happen sitting buttnaked watching a porn video? Even with a buddy beside you, it wasn't gonna make a difference, he decided. Dudes were gonna bone it off this stuff. Kent obviously wasn't shy about it. So why not relax, just go ahead and spike it openly in front of another cool-ass kid? He was just able to be himself with his new bud right there. Kent was cool.
As they watched one pussy after another getting slammed to the hilt by studly young dudes, soon both boys were really throbbing. Kent even saw Wes glancing over at his friend's total rod once in a while, too.
Wes finally snickered a little nervously. "Fuck, we're really boned, man. I mean, we're really throwin' rods."
"Yeah, it's a hot video, Wes."
Still, neither made a move as they sat and watched the tape, but soon Wes squirmed a little as though he wanted to say something. Kent's blood was pounding. For as scared as he was to really go for this, he figured after all the jackoff talk, porn scenes and pulsing boners, the boy probably wanted to beat off badly by now, even right then and there seeing each other whackin' it. The squirm was Wes probably wondering how to bring up the idea of getting some relief. It was time. It could go at least this far without sounding queer. Kent tried to keep his nerves in check and softly cleared his throat.
"I don't know about you, man, but I can't take too much more of this thing without doin’ something about it."
Wes glanced over with blazing eyes and a flushed face but looked quickly back to the screen. He shifted again. "Yeah. Me neither. . . . Dude . . . do you . . . ya think it would be cool if we. . . ."
"Yeah, man. Let's go ahead and do it. I'm too hot here to worry about anybody seein' me beatin' it, and I don't wanna miss the rest. Besides, it's just us." Kent reached down and curled his fingers around his cock as Wes sighed with relief and reached for his own dick, too.
"Yeah, Kent. I knew you were solid. I won't tell nobody we beat off in front of each other, man."
At first Wes' fist began a steady pumping but soon slowed as he realized the way Kent was taking his time, playing around all over his dick instead of going for a fast basic shoot. Kent wasn't gonna hurry. He was gonna mess with himself just right and really get up a long hot load. This cool boy obviously didn't give a fuck about really getting into it in front of a bud, Wes realized, so why should he? Just straight boys horny off their asses and cool enough with each other to really let go. Shweet.
So Wes began to fondle his rod more slowly, too, settling in and relaxing, letting himself really fuck around on his cock in front of another guy the same way he did all alone. In fact, soon he was getting off on it, sharin' a deep secret with another cool teenkid -- cuttin' loose and showin' the kinda stuff he'd been doin' to himself since that first time in the bathroom when he was twelve. And fuck, it was just as cool to finally see what another straight studly jockboy did in his bed every night, too.
In a short while Wes was pretty much just openly watching Kent masturbate. The other boy was scopin' his own strokes, too, wasn't he? There was nothing wrong about it, Wes told himself. Just boys doin' what they always do alone, but finding out how another boy likes feelin' and jerkin' his cock just as much.
Kent couldn't have asked for much more. He didn't really think Wes was into dick, just curious about seeing another rod, seeing how another guy did himself, but it was so cool to finally be getting into this with him the way he'd dreamed of, and to see that Wes was really getting into the scene, too. If he was lucky, the dude just might go horny enough for more. It began to look promising, too, for soon both boys had pretty much forgotten the video altogether. They just slowly masturbated while they looked at their own sticks and increasingly checked out each other's.
"You sure got a big boner, Wes," Kent finally said while he fingered around the ridge of his bright red cockhead. He reached for his nuts with his other hand. His littler rod was spiked as stiff as it could get, sticking up rigidly in the hot, thick air. It was smelling more like a locker room every minute as the boys began to sweat with excitement.
"Aw, it ain't all that big a nanno, dude," Wes replied, "is it?" Maybe it was. He never saw another boy with a stiffer before, but his was definitely longer and thicker than Kent's. He'd never given it any real thought till now, but it was cool to discover he was hung bigger than the other boys. Or did they get bigger than his? He was slowly sliding his circled thumb and forefinger up and down his curved shaft as he let out a compliment of his own. "You got a fine throbber there, too, man. Bet the babes love takin' that hot fuckstick."
He wasn't just sayin' it, either. Wes was getting stiffer than ever from letting his eyes drink in his buddy's boner. He'd never even seen one boinged at all before, and here Kent was totally on the bone and really messing around with it. The part Wes liked best was when the dude held it with a couple fingers deep in his thick black pubes and squeezed. It made the whole fucker really bulge, the veins popping out on that straight slender shaft, the head swelling thick and red. It fuckin' looked like hot sex. Fuck, Wes realized, he really did like lookin' at another dick. He was smashed off the scene and the horny stuff it made him think of. He lazily dreamed about what it looked like when the dude did a fuck or when he shoved it in some chick's mouth -- yeah, then spurtin' her face. Fuck, he was gonna get to see this boy splash his stuff. He really wanted to watch that.
And fuck if Kent didn't look just as interested in cock now as he was. Righteous. The guy was staring right back. Maybe he was thinkin' about watchin' Wes jabbin' pussy with his big boner, too, watchin' him shoot off his longer, fatter gun. It made Wes proud of his meat that another boy was gettin’ cooked offa seein' it. Yeah, he had a bone that even another dude thought was hot. It made him like jerkin' rod in front of the guy even more, showin' off his stick.
After a few more light strokes, he stopped jacking and fingered his fat vein, making sure Kent saw how it ran all the way from the scar to mid-shaft, then curved its way around and slid along the underside to the base. Then he held the tip and pushed his curving dick up in the air away from his stomach to stand there and throb. With his other hand he fingered through his dark blond pubes, reached down deep between his legs to fondle his big swollen ponyballs for Kent to see, and then wrapped his whole hand around his shaft and gave it some slow tight strokes. It made his thick dickhead bulge even redder and wider over his stonehard shaft as he snuck a dirty peek over at Kent's face. The boy's eyes were glued to Wes' rodded surfer stick. Yeah, he thought with a rush of pride, he thinks I got a rippin’ one. So does he, man.
Kent grew just a little bolder from seeing how the dude's face was getting hornier by the second, and from seeing how Wes was watching him jack it almost the whole time now. There was sweat on Wes' forehead. He was even shuddering now and then with lust. Time to crank it up a gear.
"Hey, Wes . . . do you ever put any stuff on yer boner?"
Wes giggled, his face reddening a little again. He didn't know other boys did that, too. "Well . . . I guess I like to give it a good spit-polish sometimes. That what ya mean?"
"'Spit-polish.' That's cool. Yeah, like that, or other stuff, too. I really like to slop it up, ya know? Beat it off wet. Makes me super-hard."
"Yeah, me too," Wes grinned nastily. "Actually, I always do it." He glanced over shyly for approval. "Well, it don't look like it could get us any harder here, bro, but yeah, let's spit-slick 'em." Wes leaned forward and dumped a big one over his dickhead, eager now for the boys to show off all of their private jerkoff habits. He began workin' it all over his rod as his head settled back against the sofa again. "Awwww, fuckin' mutinous. Wet rubs are quewel."
He watched intently as Kent spit in his hand, too, and slicked up his stick. Both boners went instantly brighter and redder under the slimy wetness. The jockly smell of sweaty crotches and horny wet kid-dicks wafted up quickly. It filled the room with their sex, and it revved their starving teen hormones higher.
"Man, I never thought I'd be jackin' off with another guy," said Kent quietly as he added another wad of spit to his smacking boycock. "It's gettin' fun."
"For real," Wes agreed. He showed Kent another beatoff trick and spat out a long shooter, nailing his rod without moving his head. The sound and smell of the slurpy rubjobs was turning Wes on to the limit now. Kent was right -- this was fun.
The whole time they were spittin' and rubbin', all Wes could think of was how he was really getting off sharing all this with another boy: the way he liked to boing his dick around, pull on his heavy nuts, soak his rod in his spit -- stuff only dudes could really relate to together but never did. And it was just hectic how Kent was just as loose with sharin' all his dirty games, too. Fuck, other dudes were missin' out not doin' this. Finally he just had to tell Kent -- tell the dude just how cool masturbating with him was.
His voice was severely horny and a little shakey: "bro . . . this is kinda cool, huh? Lookin' at . . . dick; s-smackin' it together." He searched Kent's eyes and found them drilling his own. "S’makin’ me nukkin’ futts," he went on, his eyes flying back and forth between the hardons. "Messin' on our . . . messin’ on our. . . ."
"Yeah . . . I'm hot off it too, bro," Kent moaned softly. "Whackin' our . . . big teendicks."
"Oh yeah, man. 'Teendick.' You talk hot. Ya get off on talkin' dirty?"
"Fuck, yeah. Jack that fuckin' big-ass bone, bud."
"Aw, yeah, bud. Talkin' nasty . . . poundin' off our big pipes . . . spankin' our . . . fuckin' s-surferpricks."
"Jerkin' it till we jizz up all that thick fuckin' jockspunk."
"Awwww, fuuuck. Yeah, man. Yer so cool. Chicks just don’t talk the dirt like that. I gotta tell ya, Kent, I’m gettin’ way fuckin' hot off this . . . off doin' it with ya." Wes' hand matched the twisty strokes that Kent was now giving himself. "Doin' it like you do."
"Jerk that stiff boycock, Wes. Whackin' off all hot 'n nasty, buddy. You look so fuckin' hot."
"So do you, bro. Heh heh, we're fuckin' . . . beatoff buds now, huh? Yeah, man, s-slap that stiff dong. Hot fuckin' sex-spike."
Wes scooted closer, the boys' legs now resting lightly against each other. Kent could feel Wes' right arm sliding up and down with the strokes as it pressed against Kent's side. His own right hand was slapping his hardon around, making it spring up and down. He felt Wes' lips move close and hot near his ear, the breathing heavy and erratic.
"Yeah . . . fucker," Wes was whispering, "play with that studboy boner. Really smack that fucker around." Wes snapped his rod up and down, too. "This is fuckin' nasty, man. Hot . . . young . . . teenboys . . . h-handjobbin' it together."
"Hey, the tape's over, Wes," said Kent quietly.
"Who gives a flyin' f-fuck, dude?" muttered Wes. He was lost in jackin' his dick while scopin' his buddy's dirty rubbin'. Nah, this was better than a buddy, better than a brother even. He pressed himself tighter into Kent and let his head rest against the other boy's. "We don't need the tape, bro. We got some hot stuff right here," he whispered over the hiss of the VCR.
"Yeah, no shit," Kent whispered back. He gripped his dick at the base, letting Wes get a tight close shot at the beet-red stiffness. Wes' breaths went really unstable. He was hot, horny and ready for it. Fuck, he had to want it. Time for Kent to go for the big move. He couldn't believe it. He was actually gonna live out the whole fantasy. He knew the rest was gonna happen.
"Ummm . . . hey bro," he whispered against Wes. "I'm no queer or anything . . . but . . . you think I could cop a quick feel off yers? Just to see what another boner feels like?"
"Fuck yeah, dude. Go for it." Wes had been thinking of maybe swipin' a grip for a couple minutes now, too, but hadn't wanted to push anything. This is perfect, he thought. "Heh heh," he giggled with what he thought was a sly snicker, "I guess I may as well find out what another cock feels like, too. Ya mind?"
Kent just smiled back, and then both boys chuckled nastily. So, like two giggling, playful young kids, the boys let go of their hard young wieners and reached their closest hand over to the other's rigid rod. As their fingers curled around each other's bonehardon, each boy let out a soft moan, partly from his first feel of a buddy's hot, sweaty, spit-wet hand wrapping around his own stiff teencock, and also from his own hand finding the white-hotness and steel-hardness of another dude with a fully pumped-up, blood-surging boner going.
"Yer dick's so wicked-hard, man," Kent breathed as he finally got to handle rod on Wes the way he'd beat off fantasizing about for so long.
"Man, that fuckstick on you feels so . . . so sexed up, too, bro," Wes whispered excitedly. "What a throbber." He felt and squeezed all up and down Kent's rod and even reached between the kid's legs to fondle his aching nuts. "Man, I bet these fuckin' nads're about ready to blow, huh buddyboy?"
"Mmmm." Kent's fingers twisted all around the surferboy's raging hardon, fondling the sizzling meat, running his finger over the huge vein, twirling his fingertips around the thick-ridged head. "I can't believe we're fuckin' doin' this, bro," he whispered.
"Me neither, bro," Wes whispered back. "This is like freakin’ alchemy feelin' you up."
They fondled dick on each other another minute or so, but then Kent could feel Wes' hand starting to hesitate, the guy probably wondering if Kent thought it was cool for the two straight kids to keep going on. To let him know, and to make it Wes who committed to it, Kent spit in his free palm, dropped the glob over his cockhead, then let his right hand fall back to his side.
The dude was hooked for more all right. His hand picked up speed excitedly, getting his buddy slippery. Yeah, thought Wes. It was just what he was hopin' for. Kent was cool about gettin' into it heavier, letting him really jack it off for him awhile. But he wanted to make sure Kent did him, too. So without moving his head from Kent's, Wes hocked another hard squirt of spit at his dick, and he groaned as the boy smeared the stuff over his bone.
"Only problem with a spitjob--" said Wes in a minute while he pumped and worked Kent's rod. "--is it dries up so fuckin' fast."
"Yeah," Kent said as his fingers started skidding on Wes' dulling rod. "And then it's hard to stroke it as smooth -- like this. Hey Wes, I got some suntan lotion on me. I never did it with the stuff before, but ya wanna try gettin' off in that?"
"Sweet," Wes mumbled, his eyes only half-open in the glow of trading warm wet strokes. He didn't want Kent to let go of him, but they both had to as the boy leaned over to reach into his bag. Wes wanted Kent's hand on his rod again something awful, though, so as Kent pulled out the bottle and sat back up, Wes shoved himself close and let his head fall against Kent's again. "So lemme feel it, buddyboy," Wes whispered as he watched Kent open the lotion. "Bet it's gonna feel radical. I mean, ya don't mind keepin' this tradeoff on the rods goin' a little more, do ya? It's pretty gnar, don'tcha think?"
Kent smiled, squirted some of the stuff into his right palm for a better grip, then leaned in and reached across. "Lemme know how it feels, bro," he murmured as he snaked his slippery fist around Wes' bone and slathered the suntan lotion all up and down its length.
"Aw, fuck, bro. That's fuckin'-ass frothin’, man. Don't stop."
"Fuckin' frothin', dude! Keep doin' that, will ya? Oh man, I've had nothin' but my own fist for so fuckin' long now, bro. And . . . and I wanna feel it the way you jerk yerself, man. Feel the way you beat off."
"Yer gonna, bro. I know what you want, man. It's cool. I'm gonna get you all the way off in my hand, buddy." His slippery fingers spread the lube all over Wes' throbbing hardon and slid down to coat the kid's nuts, too.
"Awwww," groaned Wes. "I promise I won't tell nobody we did this. Yer such a cool dude, man. Coolest boy I ever met, doin' this for me. Gonna spank it for ya, too, bro; gonna whip yer big studload right into my fist. Gimme some o' that shit." He held out his right hand, and Kent filled his palm with lotion.
Wes' fingers reached down and enveloped Kent's burning cock, slickin' the kid down totally. He started pumping sturdily. Oh yeah, doin' a dick -- and gettin' off on it, he thought. And gettin' off of bein' jacked off by another boy at the same time. Kent was sliding his wet fist up and down Wes' bone a little different, but it made it even more perfect. It was better than rubbin' himself. It was sex. And it was sex the way only dudes really into doin' their own dicks could do it to each other. He twisted his fist around Kent's boner, too, as he slowly stroked him off, doing everything he could to make the kid feel just as good off another guy's hand as he was. He had to give the best rub of his life. He really wanted Kent to get off on it, to jerk him off even better than the kid could do himself, to make him fuckin' squirt off like a firehose. Shit, he couldn't believe how fuckin' bad he wanted to see the boy spray his stuff, feel it pumpin' from his nuts, racin' up through his dick, whizzin' in the air, whappin' out all over the guy -- man, maybe even feelin' some o' that nasty jockload spurtin' on him.
Just then the hissing tape clicked at the end of the reel and began to rewind as the beat of MTV blasted out in the middle of an old Modern English song: ". . . I'll stop the world and melt with you. . . ." Wes snuggled tight as he could as his new best buddy slid his sweaty left arm around him while the right pumped in Wes' crotch. Their bodies fit together just right. Their heads pressed together as they whacked each other off, Kent's left arm reaching further, sliding under Wes' wet, hairy armpit to his glistening chest, rubbing up across a tight pec, scraping the stiff tit. Their cheeks pressed hotly together as they stared at the handjobs they were trading and kicked into the pace harder.
"Awww, fuckin' beat me, dude," Wes moaned. Kent's slippery fist was sliding firmly up and down his rigid hardon, working back and forth over the curve, bashing into that thick ridge each time he slid upward before opening his hand just slightly enough to get up over Wes' dark red dickhead. Then he twisted his fingers over the head of Wes' fat rod before rubbing his hand back down onto the hard wide shaft again. That thick vein felt like it was gonna explode under his wet palm. He could feel the blood pounding through the boy's hard cock as it swelled with each hammer of Wes' heart. He could feel the heartbeat, too, right under his other hand as he was reaching around rubbing over Wes' slick, sweaty chest and playing with his hard nipple. Wes was breathing harder with each stroke across his smooth chest, with each dive Kent's knowing fist took down his wet, throbbing shaft. Once in a while Kent reached even further, cupping the heavy nuts in his fingers and fondling the lightly hairy sack as the heel of his hand rubbed back and forth across the underside of his bud's aching cock.
"Fuck, buddy," Kent whispered against the boy's face, "yer gonna lose it soon, huh? Gonna spunk it? Yeah, spray that nasty surferboy jizz out all over us, bro."
"Oh yeah, buddyboy. I’m so fuckin’ amped. The way yer whippin' it off for me, I'm gonna squirt the fuckin' sex-wax any second, dude." Wes groaned and rubbed his head against Kent's.
"Yeah, bro, spit it out for me, dude. Shoot that thick white teencream, fucker."
"Yeah, fucker. Gonna blow, man. Yer jerkin' me off so fuckin' sick, Kent. I wanna cream yer fist, you fuckin' stud."
Kent could feel the big nuts jamming up tight against the base of the rod now each time his fist hit bottom. He savored every second of holding Wes' big wide stonehard boner in his fist as the kid reached the limit, the exact shape and feel of Wes' stiff young surferboy rod burning into his memory for replay during a million future whackoffs remembering this night.
Wes' feet were kicking around, his legs squirming, and soon his hot slim smooth little butt started humping jerkily off the sofa as he began to repeatedly thrust his stiff stick hard and deep through his buddy's fist, right at the edge of jizzin'. Suddenly he groaned deeply and then cut into a high thin whine as he held his ass an inch off the sofa, his body completely rigid. One long hard burning squirt of teenboy fire hosed straight as an arrow above his chest, above his face, and blew straight through that arc of bright hair over his forehead, half of it splattering all over the top of his head and down his shoulders and back, and the other half whizzing right on past the back of the sofa. He gripped Kent's rod tight and held on as his butt crashed down again and his body lurched forward. "Aaaaahhh, fuuuuuck!"
Long streams of thick white surfsperm were jetting out, spraying Wes in the face, splashing over his neck and chest, blasting against Kent's left hand and forearm as the boy smoothed the silky slick sperm over Wes' pec and tit. "Yeah, you fuckin' hot-ass studfuck, blast that fuckin' goo out, Wes."
"Fuckin' jack my rod, dude," Wes panted gruffly. “So fuckin' epic, man, yer beatin' it so right! I'm . . . fuckin' chuckin' Chunks!" Wes ground his wet face against Kent's and shuddered as the boy milked and worked him, rubbing strong and hard, stroking up thick gushes of his horny, smelly wad that smacked and studded against Wes' stomach and started fountaining over Kent's fingers and wrist. The air filled with the harsh smell of Wes' tight-packed nuts unloading his blow and the loud sloshing of Kent's tight fingers slogging through the slurpy syrup all over the boy's big beachcock.
Through it all, Wes never lost his grip on Kent's brickstiff boner. And even though he was still spewing wads of his chunky spunk out over Kent's hand and arm and both the boys' thighs, just as soon as he could regain a little control Wes dug in and began grinding away on Kent's cock again. "Fuckin' whammin' it on ya, buddy. Gonna make you dump that fuckin' load here, too, Kent. Just as fuckin' nasty as you did me, bro. C'mon, fuckerboy, gimme a fuckin' fistful o' that hot dicksauce, you stud."
Wes leaned over and reached in with his other hand now, too, and began to fondle and stroke Kent's boiling nuts. "Yeah, ya hot fuck, yer horny young teenboy nads're ready ta blast me, huh kid?"
Kent could only moan but kept feeling and stroking the sticky hardon in his hand as he felt Wes take him all the way.
"C'mon, Kent. Jizz it off for me, buddy. I wanna see ya cream, kid. Wanna feel you squirt yer stuff so bad, bro." Wes fingered the boy's balls until they pulled clear up, and then he rubbed his palm over them as they hugged the base of the kid's rod. The boy was there.
Kent gripped Wes to him tightly with his left arm as he felt himself fall over the edge. Wes' face was in close with both of his hands working all over Kent's stiff boner and aching nuts: "c'mon, bro. Jizz it, fuckerboy." Suddenly a big thick mass of the kid's hot glue busted out and burst up in the air as Wes slid his hand into Kent's pubes and squeezed the boner firmly.
"Yeeeaaaaahhhhh," Wes huffed huskily, and right in the middle of the word, a hard spray of Kent's seed squirted straight in and splattered against the roof of Wes' mouth. "Fuckin' awesome," he shouted as another hot whap of thick ranky teenload streaked across his pearly whites. Wes gasped with the dense odor as squirt after squirt of the boy's ripe tangy jockload rinsed him down. And not just his mouth, man. Kent was hosin' his jockboy fuckjam all over Wes. Thick slimy streams of Kent's horniest, clumpy teenkid spunk blasted the boy and ran down his neck and chest.
It wasn't bothering Wes one bit, either. He was snickering and snorting and calling Kent a hot-sex fuckerboy with every new whizz that blasted against him. He pumped off Kent's bone hornier than ever, milking out every last pellet of the kid's rich cream until finally Kent was squirming and clutching him and beggin' the boy to let up. Finally, he slowed his strokes, leaned back against the sofa and began to just fondle the soaked rod in his fist the same as Kent was still doing to him.
"Man, ya really dumped one on me, stud," Wes chuckled mildly. "That was cool -- feelin' a dude's fresh jizz squirt out." He paused, let the heavy load that had nailed his mouth roll around in there a second, then added, "tastes pretty rich, buddyboy. You really popped a nasty knot."
"So did you, fucker. Fuck, that was awesome, bro."
Wes released Kent's cock and wrapped his dripping arm around his buddy, pulling him close. "Sure was, bro. Told ya I was a horny fucker." He slid his fingers up and down over Kent's chest and arm for several minutes as Kent snuggled into him, his face falling into Wes' sopping chin and neck.
"So cool ya like to beat off as much as I do, man," Wes finally whispered dreamily. "So, dood--" Wes started. Kent looked up lazily into the boy's bright blue eyes. Wes' eyebrows jumped nastily: "wanna do it again?"
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