This is my first story, and yet I think the hardest thing to write so far has been this header. I’ll say it simply: if you’re reading this and you aren’t supposed to, then just don’t get caught. If I told you not to read it I’d be a hypocrite, because that’s exactly what I’d do in your position, and I can hardly blame you for being curious at the very least. But be warned-this story contains sexual innuendo concerning innocent acts between two boys: myself and Zachary Hanson. None of it actually happened, or indeed ever will, I’m sure, but hey, I can dream can’t I? No slight intended on Mr. Hanson, of course, for whom I have the utmost respect and regard.


Woody (joke) (Chapter 23)

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Out of breath and quickly cooling off, we stared into each other’s eyes. I will always remember that moment, the moment that signified my embracing of the love we had for each other. I smiled slowly, feeling so good inside it felt like I was going to burst. It felt like my heart was full, but nothing was happening. It was a lover’s high.

"That was absolutely amazing," I said, the emotion clearly evident in my voice.

"You wanna do it again?" He asked with a grin.

Zac was seeing things pretty much the same way. He’d found his soulmate in the body of this young deity he was holding in his arms. His amber eyes were caught in those of his lover. Sebastian’s crystal gaze fell on him and he felt somehow strong, as if suddenly he’d discovered a well of love, a fountain of emotion in its rawest form, waiting to be molded into motion. He felt like he’d just jumped from the top of a cliff, and it was the most exhilerating feeling in the world, he thought. There was so much he wanted to do with this beautiful god. So much. Now he just had to get the chance, with no one else around to catch them.

"So what’s back in the woods?"

"What do you mean? I guess it’s mostly trees."

"Yeah, but why can’t we go back there?"

"We’re not supposed to go back there unless someone’s with us. It’s too dangerous they say. Besides, we might get our clothes dirty or something."

"We’ve already done that," Zac pointed out.

"Oh, yeah."

"If it’s dangerous then there has to be something back there," I cottoned to his idea.

"Well, there’s the tree house. It’s not really far into the woods, and we’d be able to hear when they call. They let us go there without supervision."

"Great. Let’s go, before someone sees us," he grabbed my hand and pulled me after him. We half-ran, ducking and dodging the majority of the trees and limbs. Zac was too energetic, though, and we stumbled right through a patch of thorns. Thankfully, we escaped wearing only half of them. We finally made it to the tree house. I don’t know who built it, but it was really old. It was well-built, though, and it still kept the rain and the cold out. It had two windows, both with small, ratty rags over them. We climbed up the make-shift staircase nailed to the trunk and shut the door behind us.

"Woah, this is cool. I’ve got a tree-house, too, but it’s not like this at all."

"Yeah," I said. I was about to say more when I saw myself in the small, cloudy mirror someone had hung an obviously long time ago. My clothes were studded with little thorns, and there were the tell-tale marks of damp and decrepit tree-limbs. What had begun as an innocent foray to a known territory had become a struggle for survival as I was dragged through the woods with no heed for the worn path. And now the struggle had taken its toll-out of my clothes. My heart stopped beating for a second as I realized just how much trouble I could get in, and Zac too. The toll for this whole adventure might well be taken out of my hide.

"Hey, Bastian,what’s wrong?" Zac asked with a worried expression.

"I think we might be in deep trouble," was all I could stammer out. It wasn’t like I was scared or anything, but it was just a surprise, and I didn’t want to have to worry about things like this when Zac or his family was around. I still had nightmares about when my mom yelled at me in church at Christmas.

"What? No way, it’s my fault. It’s not like I gave you a choice, so stop worrying about it."

"Actually, you’re the guest. It’s never the guest’s fault. Besides, we both heard Taran’s dad tell us we couldn’t come back here. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," I mumbled, pacing frantically. This had the possibility of being bad. Very bad.

"Yeah, well, I probably deserve to get in trouble anyway. It’s been a while."

Now that shocked me. I’d heard of adults saying their kids were asking for it, but here was Zac making nothing short of a confession. But at least he had my philosophy when it came to punishment: if you’re going to be punished, it might as well be for something you feel bad about doing. I felt bad about this, of course, but I didn’t think it was so bad I should actually be punished for it. And it wasn’t like I had too much of a choice, either, what with Zac being the guest and wanting to see the treehouse. And it wasn’t like the tree-house was off-limits, either, and we could still hear them calling for us. On the whole, though, it kind of felt like he wanted to get in trouble.

"What do you mean you deserve to get in trouble? You haven’t done anything wrong."

"Yes I have. Dad just doesn’t know about any of it. Besides, if he yells at me for this it’s like he was yelling at me for everything else, too, so it evens out." His logic baffled me, but he confirmed my suspicions: he wanted to get in trouble. Don’t ask why, because I don’t know. I knew that sometimes when it had been a long time since the last time I got in trouble I started doing things I shouldn’t, just to see what I could get away with, most of the time with unfortunate consequences. Maybe Zac just needed to be assured that the rules still existed. I’d seen kids in the grocery store acting out for no reason whatsoever, and when their parents told them to stop they deliberately didn’t. Maybe this was Zac’s way of throwing a tantrum just to see if his parents still cared enough to punish him.

I was also surprised at how much I was thinking about this. It was like somehow I was feeling things, but they weren’t my own feelings. But then they vanished into the thin air.

"Hey, Bastian, since we’re out here......"

"What? You’ve got to be kidding."

"Why not? Besides, it’s not like anyone can see us. So...."

"So what?"

"So, you wanna do it again?" He asked.

"But-" I started, but he stopped me with another kiss. It wasn’t that important anyway, I thought as I felt my soul fall to its weakened knees. There was no way I could stop the inevitable, and I released my thoughts and let my body handle the business from here on out. 0There was an old rickety bed against one side of the little fort, and onto that I fell, with Zac on top of me. We kissed for what seemed like a few fast hours, our dicks quickly responding to our closeness. My pants were still slimy from ten minutes ago, and it felt weird when Zac pushed against me and my dick went slipping up to the waistband of my underwear.

"Sure," I said, slipping my lips from his, up to his nose, and then down to his neck. His neck. That wonderful pillar of strength and beauty. Almost too perfect. I could see the skin beat in time to his quickening pulse, jumping out of tempo. He drew in a faltering breath, and his adam’s apple disappeared, creating the most wonderful recess into which my lips sank. I made my way back to his lips. I felt his fingers lightly breathing past my skin, reaching for my tie. I felt it go loose, and then he slowly pulled it out, using it to pull me closer to him.

Our kiss grew slowly, until it was too close. To relieve the pressure we had to open our mouths, and I felt his tongue slip past my lips. I touched it with mine, and coiled around his. I wanted to crawl into his mouth and go to sleep, and we stood and kissed in this new (and wonderful) way for what seemed like hours. My hard-on was so stiff it began to hurt, and I had to once again turn my attention to it, slowly rubbing it against him like we had before. I could feel the tension building, the explosion imminent, when he pushed me away, gently but firmly.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his eyes half-closed in small slits of seduction.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I said, half-heartedly. I was more concerned with getting closer to him than I was now. He relented, and we took up where we left off. Then I felt him push my hips away from him, depriving me of that all-important driving sensation. His hand slowly dipped down from my hip to the front of my shorts, and then he squeezed me through my pants. I thrust into his hand and moaned, it felt so good. I wanted to pull him to me and show him how I felt, give him back what he was giving me, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead he only unzipped my fly and kissed me harder, and there was no way I was going to complain.

I knew we shouldn’t be doing this, and that we were already in enough trouble as it was, but I couldn’t stop myself. It just felt too good-like I was finally free of something, but I had not clue as to what it was. It felt too good, and then it suddenly started to feel great when he slipped his hand into my khakis and started massaging my dick through my underwear. His fingertips rested lightly underneath my balls, tickling them and making me harder than ever. I felt like I was going to burst or something, it felt so good. A few more seconds and I would have, but he pulled his hand out at the last minute. I groaned, and tried to push myself closer to him, to somehow make his hand reappear in my pants. That didn’t work, but then my pants were unbuttoned somehow, my belt undone, and he pulled my pants apart and untucked my shirt.

"Oh, man," I stuttered, gasping for the words.

I felt bare, but insanely horny. The tip of my hard-on was lifting the elastic, and there was no way I could last much longer. I needed the release, and I needed it now. I reached around to grab him and force him against me. I knew he needed it just as much as I did, he had to. But instead he lowered his head and began to kiss my neck, and then down my chest, unbuttoning my shirt on the way. He rested for a while over my heart, listening to it pump furiously while he massaged my dick some more. Oh, I was in a heaven like no other. Nothing could possibly compare to that nonexistent place that I was in. Nirvana exists, believe me, and I’ve been there!

He moved on down, flicking his tongue at my belly-button, causing me to buck at the ticklish sensation. The tip of my dick hit his chin, and he jumped in surprise.

"Sorry. I’m kind of tickli-oh!" He’d rested his lips on the wet spot where I had come earlier and was gently sucking away. His mouth felt so warm, even through the fabric. His arms were wrapped around my legs, his hands gripping the top of my butt once again. This feeling I had now was nothing like the feelings I’d had just minutes ago. This was so much better, so much heavier. It was elemental. He’d pull, I’d push, I’d tremble as his lips ran over my dick and have to pull back before the sensory overload made me feint. Rinse with a deep breath and repeat. Twice. And then I had no choice but to give in to the flood of emotion and sensation. It felt like Vesuvius erupting in my pants, and Zac teased every last drop out of it, massaging the length of it with his teeth and lips and then sucking on it so hard he nearly pulled me through the cotton. He kneaded my nuts with one hand while gripping my side with the other.

I fell back on the tiny bed, exhausted, hot, and wet. My heart was beating its way out through my chest, and I looked over to see him standing next to the bed. My shirt and my pants were open, and he slowly laid down next to me so we could kiss again. He put his hands on my chest and I lowered my hands to feel his dick through his pants, just as hard as mine had been ten seconds ago. He thrust into my hand, moaning passionately, and I gripped him and started rubbing up and down like he’d done to me. I started to get hard again, and I pulled him on top of me, my hand going down to grip his dick through his pants again as we sealed the door to our little world with a kiss.

I loved Zac. I heard our bracelets jingle, and I knew we’d be together always. Somehow we’d do it. And I wanted to give him everything I had to give; everything I could give. All of my worldly possessions were his if only he asked. And my body. My body was his.

And I wanted to give him something now. I wanted to give him what he’d given me. I let go from his dick, leaving the heat I could feel through his pants. I reached up and unbuttoned his pants and pulled them open and down slightly, just past his underwear. I moved my hand back down. I felt him for the first time, and I was surprised at how he was made. He wasn’t long or short or thick or thin; he was perfect. Just right. I could feel the wet spot where he came earlier, the tip of his dick poking it out slightly.

"You like it?" He asked. Somehow he once again managed to look ultimately seductive without trying. His hair dipped down towards my chest, the loose strands on his forehead hanging down just in front of his deep brown eyes, pointing straight to his lips.

"You’re perfect," I said, and I pulled him back down on me.

"No, you’re perfect," he said just before our lips met again.

He lowered himself onto my hand and started humping his hips. Our legs were intertwined, and I could feel his tense when he pushed. I began to time it, and when I could feel him about to push I’d make a slight ring with my palm, like I did when I played with myself in the hotel. He seemed to like that, because he began to moan down my throat when I did it. Our tongues were wrestling for space, each trying to invade the other’s residence.

I slid my hand down his back and onto his butt, gently feeling it and squeezing when he pushed against me. Then I took a chance and slid my hand underneath the fabric of his jockies and ran my hand over the smooth skin of his cheeks, hot and slightly damp from our exertions. He began pumping harder once my hand was in there. It made me even hornier, putting my hand down there. It was so taboo, so forbidden, so absolutely necessary. So perfect, just like the rest of him. His muscles bunched and relaxed, the thin layer of baby-fat softening them even when he tensed, making them feel like large, hot peaches: firm but soft at the same time. I could feel his hands on my hips, trying to get under me but unable to because of the weight of both our bodies. I lifted my hips a little, knowing exactly what he wanted, and I felt him slip his hands into my pants and grab handfuls of flesh. I had to start pushing again-the reaction was automatic. I took my other hand and put it down his pants as well, our cocks now rubbing hard against each other through the thin layers of cotton. We rubbed so hard we could have started a fire.

And when we finally spurted together, we gave more than enough of the holy pearl liquid to quench a four-alarm blaze! Our cocks twitched in unison, throbbing down to slight quavers as Zac collapsed against me. I turned my head and kissed his neck with my lips, tasting the small beads of sweat that stood out on his little hairs like drops of honey dew on a misty May morning. His hair hung down over his shoulder, and the small locks were matted to his forehead with sweat. His face was flushed, and all I could think of was how I’d just made love with a fantasy. I still couldn’t believe it was all true.

We lay there for a long time, completely spent from the unsurpassed pleasure we’d just experienced. Once again we fell asleep in each other’s arms, with whispered "I love you"’s echoing in the still air.

This is the first wholy erotic scene I've tried my hand at.   Please please please write me and tell me how I did or what I need to change.   Writings a sex scene in which lust isn't the only theme is rather difficult.

If you like this story, you can ring me at  If you don't like it, it’s not my fault. But you can still ring me up and tell me why it disagreed with you. If you’re interested in the whole thing, it can be found at under "Dominick".