“Wanna perv out?” Perving out—that’s what Tommy called it anyway, though he mostly only called it that to Streak. “C’mon, bud, let’s go to my place and perv out awhile.”

He didn’t have a clue what the word “perv” actually meant. It just sounded dirty to him: a phrase that seemed as filthy as Tommy felt when he was springin’ stiff and throbbing, all boned up off his porn stash. And that porn stash, if you can call it one, is all that really mattered to Streak, too.

They met earlier in the semester during the last class of History, near-chained into chairs in that classroom over there at Central High. Bored of the books like always. Stoned and slunk down in their seats. Slackers slouching through the whole Civil War. But both poppin’ boner for everyone throughout History to see.

Saggin’ may be history, too, but not to these two slouched, stoned, sexbrained skater kids: half-shredded jeans hung halfway off their asses; boxers tried to slide down off their slim, slender hipbones. I mean, how in hell could they ever strike boards all bagged down like that?

“Who gives an assknife?” is the answer.  “Just know yer scopin’ our schizzle cuz we’re too kickass cool, dude.”

Yeah, man, it’s true. They really talked like that. And I know what else yer thinkin’. It’s kinda hard to believe they were 18+, huh? But these two baked bonerboys had flunked every subject for four years in a row now, if that’s any help.

Slumped behind desks way back in the last row like that, they were near-mirror identical images. Matching bodies, too; both skinny and pale. Well, one had blue eyes, the other gray—but this ain’t no time for artsy history class imagery. I guess mostly you could tell ‘em apart only from the hair: Tommy’s fuzzy flat-brown buzz verses Streak’s straight strings of greasy dirt-blond. Not that you could see it much with those backwards black caps packed down on their heads.

Of course, the main thing they shared was all pokin’ up under their desks, just waiting to get outa there—just like the boys.

Nasty minds? You betcha. Filthy mouths? Not a fuckin’ clean word between ‘em.

“We’re a couple of fucking pervs”: that’s how Tommy put it. Then he crumpled it into a half-ass paper airplane. Threw it too hard, though. It bashed off Streak’s clueless, nussed-out face.

The kid looked down at the wad in his crotch. Then he grabbed it, man. Yeah, just like that. He held it up real close to his two glassy, stoned eyes. “What the fuck is this shit?”

“Shhhh, you stupid dumbass.”

They scrawled a couple more notes instead, then met with hall passes in the smelly “Boys” restroom.

“Dude, we are so fuckin’ showin’. Wanna boner it at my place? Just perv out awhile?”

Now ya know, even through the haze, Streak had a couple doubts about this shit. But he didn’t wanna look wuss or anything. So when Tommy asked him over that first time after school and all, he stuck out his chin and said, “Why the fuck not?” He spat at a urinal. “I’m down for a session.” And right then and there, the last bell buzzed ‘em away. So ten minutes later after mongoing it to Tommy’s, Streak popped his board up—well, almost to his fist. Then he followed the kid right on into his house.

Tommy’s room? The perv lounge? Kinda cool if yer a teen and all, I guess, though it was mostly acey stuff just to keep the rents off his back. But down there in the bottom of the closet, back behind a box of his most embarrassing cd’s, underneath a stash of old shitty-grades “re-do!” homework, squeezed deep inside a little nook no one else knew about—Tommy whipped it out: his fuckin’ badass perv stash.

It was really just a pile of shit: three ancient Playboy magazines with most of the pages either ripped out or too stuck together. They’d been a knowing gift of mercy from some kid down the street when finally escaping nowhere-town for college. No fucking money. No fucking car. No fucking porno houses to try and sneak into. Not even fucking internet to surf around for tit shots. It was the shiz, man. Worst place on Earth. Like Tommy told Streak: “It fucking sucks horsepuds.”

But it sucked worse for Streak. The kid didn’t even have three stuck-together Playboys. The best he could do was hunt around the local heads, sprayin’ streams across stall walls whenever he got lucky and found some dirty shit to read.

So you better believe it: down they went to the perv lounge floor, where each grabbed a sticky magazine, scoped tit on bettys, and in minutes were best buddies.

But it had been four fucking weeks now, and that’s all these little “pervs” had done. Shinning with swears all the way to Tommy’s, sharing their hoard—I’d say somewhere around 4:20—then thick-wick’d ‘n tentin’ for as long as they could stand it. I mean, they were sneakin’ lotsa looks to see the other’s rod in his pants, but nothin’ else—though they were ready to explode. It figures, right? Two horny little bonered-out, dirty-minded whackerboys, stiffer than their skateboard decks with only their own fists to fuck, but both needing something to give ‘em an excuse.

Late day in spring, Thursday afternoon, sun stuck up there at the top of the sky. Too hot, high ‘n horny, so the nasty little fuckers snuck out through the gate at school. They smacked the boards and squirted lamelines down the sidewalk, heading toward a session at Tommy’s where the rents wouldn’t be home for hours. They grabbed a couple cokes and headed for the perv lounge, dragged out the perv stash and got back down there on the floor.

“Gotta show you somethin’, bud. Just got me a fuckin’ new one.” Tommy held up a three-year-old Penthouse and perved out a nasty smirk. “The fucker’s got me all gnarhard. Just check out the cover, bud.”

“Dag, dude! Awesome,” Streak perved back at his best buddy. “That’s sick. Hey, gimme that fuckin’ thing. I’m rodded already, but I wanna use some fuckpics ‘n updick it even harder.”

Yep. No doubts for Streak anymore. He was perved as bad as Tommy, sharin’ filthy snickers, spittin’ out the sextalk and sneakin’ boner-peeks with every dirty thought that came to his nasty little mind, too. Hey, Streak! Hey, Tommy! You two little fucks figuring it out yet? You should mess around together, boys. You only got each other.

“No fucking way!”

“It’s true, Tommy. This thing’s got letters. Listen to this shit: ‘I am a student at a large Midwestern university, and I never thought these stories were true.’ College dudes, bud. Rammin’ their sauce into chicks every fuckin’ night!”

Yeah, the boys were perving off crazy to a letter like that. You gotta remember, they never saw shit like this before. So they read through them all out loud and got a worse case of the wickedsick nasties than ever before. Broke one hella sweat, too.

“But Tommydude, I don’t get it. All these girls are named ‘Mindy,’ bud. You think it’s the same one doin’ it with all these dudes?”

“Why the fuck not, bud? Look at the same way they all describe the sick bitch. And any chick that can be all over the letters in Penthouse, dude? You know a bitch like that is bad. Bet that Mindy bitch bones any boy she wants.”

“I’d bone her.”

“I’d bone her, too, bud. . . . Fuck, man. I think you better leave now.” It had only been an hour.

“What? What the fuck is this shit, Tommy?”

“You know, man. It’s time.”

“Oh fucking no way, you dickhead. I just got here, man. We just started perving for the day.”

“Yeah, but this is different, bud. I got my needs here faster this time. Gotta do something about it sooner today.”

“You fucking fuck. Yer not even a good perv.”

“What the fuck? You fuck. Yer fucked, you know that? Don’t you say I’m not a good perv. This is as bad as you tellin’ me I’m shit at Halo 2.”

“You are shit at Halo 2.”

“Am fucking not.”

“Are fucking, too, you cheating shit. Can’t play any games without using the cheats.”

Streak stormed out, the front door slamming behind him.

Yeah. Damn.

It was way too late now, well past his “do the damn homework” curfew, but Streak had his needs, too. The penny tapped very quietly at Tommy’s bedroom window, though that curtain sure pried apart very quickly, too. The window slid softly up, and matching black caps faced off until Streak twisted his around backward, baring his eyes. They looked silently at each other, about another ten seconds. Then Tommy nodded, and Streak slipped himself in through the window.

They stood very close together, just inside the curtain, both boys staring down at the floor.

“Sorry, bud,” Streak said quietly. “Yer not shit at Halo 2, and yer one sick fucking perv.”

A hand clamped firmly down on Streak’s shoulder, and then Tommy smiled wide, then wicked, then nasty.

Minutes later, they’d split a bowl, pulled out the perv stash, flipped on some light and flopped back down there on the floor. But not until Tommy had made sure the perv lounge was locked and had pressed dirty underwear all along the bottom. The little perv.

They lay on their stomachs, not exactly side-by-side. Their retinas soaked up every particle of light flying off the photos. It went on a long time like that as they scoped pubes in silence. Then Streak ground a little into the carpet and glanced up a bit toward Tommy a sec. The kid was looking back, a nasty burning look somewhere in the eyes.

“What?”

“I was thinking.”

“I bet you were, pervmaster. These chicks are fucking hot, huh?”

“No, I mean. . . .”

Streak lowered the Penthouse and paid more attention. “What?”

Tommy ground a little into the carpet, too. “I guess I was sort of a shit to you today, Streak.”

Streak dropped the magazine. “Hey man, no worries.”

“No, I mean. . . .”

Streak lifted his sleek back some more and went up higher onto his elbows. “What?”

“Shhhh!” Tommy moved in closer. “Gotta keep the rents away.”

“Well, what the fuck is this all about, man?” Streak whispered loudly.

“Shhhh. C’mere.”

They slid side-by-side, faces close together. Tommy was breathing kinda hard, man.

“I was thinking. . . .”

“What?”

“Will you quit fucking saying that? This is harder than vert, bud.”

Streak’s eyebrow curled up, but he remained silent. Tommy stared at the carpet just inches away.

He spoke slowly. “Why the fuck do I always make you go home? I mean. . . .” He shot a way quick glance into Streak’s eyes and looked down again. He spoke even more slowly. “I mean . . . we’re buds, right? Best buds, right?” He looked up and got a confirming nod before looking back down. Then, very . . . very slowly: “couple of . . . pervs. . . . right?” He was afraid, but after a long moment, he looked up again. A lightning streak was streaking through Streak’s eyes. This time Tommy didn’t look back down. Their pupils widened into black depths, but their eyes should have been glowing red at each other.

“You mean what I think you mean?” breathed Streak, with a scared but horny gaze.

“Well. . . . I mean. . . . Why the fuck not, bud? We talk about it a fuck of enough. How we like to jerk off and shit? It’s stupid to have to stop perving out, then you go home, and I bust nut, and you bust nut, and then we get back together . . . and do the whole fucking thing all over again. I mean. . . . Why not just cut the shit and beat our cream out right here while we’re perving out and shit? I mean—“

Streak was up on his knees, a skinny boner poking his baggy jeans way up and pushin’ out—so hard it pushed the waistband out far enough to see down to the slit of his boxers.

So Tommy jumped to his knees, too, just like Streak. He watched his best bud’s eyes widen at the stiff, slightly longer stick stickin’ up there in his own pants, too—just as stiff as Streak’s. And then the boys just stared a little while. This wasn’t in any of the letters they’d read in Penthouse. Each boy drilled his eyes into the other’s straining jeans.

“We’re sure the fuck bonerboys,” Tommy finally whispered.

“Pitchin’ fuckin’ tents,” Streak agreed.

“Our schizzle’s the illest.”

“We’re two sick studs, bud.”

They both breathed hornily in the quiet of the perv lounge, their heartbeats flippin’ like rabbits’ as they continued to stare.

“Gonna admit something,” Tommy soon whispered. “I checked you out a couple times.” He looked up hesitantly to find wild wide eyes, almost like they were trying to scream something out at him. “Look, just a couple times, okay? Just wondered what you had in there or something.”

You could hear Streak gulp. “Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. Wasn’t doing too well at keeping it a soft whisper, though. “I checked you out, too, Tommy. Same thing, bud. Couple of times. Jus’ wond’rin’ and all.”

“Coo–”

“Yeahcool,” Streak replied too quickly. Man, it was tense in the perv lounge.

Then finally, “Wanna look at mine awhile?”

“Yes. Fucking yes, Tommy. You really wanna see mine, too, right?”

“Fucking got that right, bud. Let’s strip.”

“Yeah, let’s strip and everything.”

“Wait.”

“What? Shit, sorry ‘bout the ‘what,’ man. What?”

Tommy’s breaths were getting short and erratic. “We’re pervs, right?”

“Fuck yeah, Tommy. Do I need to tell you every fucking minute or something?” he whispered too loudly.

It came as a very soft, very slow, very gentle warning this time—“shhhhhhhh. . . . Know what?”

“Wh–“

“. . . pervs would . . . strip each other.”

Did it get even quieter? You could only hear a hard heave of chests, but you could nearly hear those hormones sizzling, too.

Then Streak broke the silence, soft and slow, too: “yeah, we’re pervs, Tommy. We’re fucking pervs, man.”

Tommy’s hands lifted up and clasped either side of Streak’s jeans. He felt Streak’s fingers fall and tremble on his own hips, too. Fingertips moved slowly, sliding up along the waistbands of boxers. They slipped hesitantly in toward the faint fuzz beneath navels and waited at the tops of the poked-out fronts of jeans. There was a glance into each other’s eyes, and then hands began slowly fumbling down over the stiff, zippered bars pointing upward in the center. Fingers curled and copped feels of young, solid, bonehard wood.

And then . . . how do I describe it? There were fucking hands all over the place. Hands slid up under t-shirts, feeling up stiff little teentit tacks; riding and sliding up bony ribcages; slithering over smooth skater skin; verting off curves of palepipe shoulders; and slipping around slick, sweaty armpits before whipping the t-shirts up, over and off each other’s heads—black caps flying, wadded cotton shirts whizzing into a corner somewhere.

They fell into a heap as hands twisted at sneakers until the shoes gave way. Fingers followed restlessly with a struggle until the dirty socks flew right off into the air.

Two buttons finally popped with a nasty fuckin’ flick. Two zippers slithered as the boys zipped shit down. And finally they went at it again in a hard, rolling tumble, yanking denim anxiously to get the fucking jeans down and off each other.

Not much left. Eyes blazed. They looked each other over: near-naked young bodies now clad only in a couple pairs of stabbed-out boxer shorts. The two little pervs grinned nasty-crazy. Then—in a flash—they were all over each other again: yankin’ on boxers. Right the fuck down, right the fuck off.

Just a couple of buttnaked, pale-assed, skinny little skaterboy pervs now. But they had to stay punk, so the caps went back on.

They sat back on their heels and faced each other, just checkin’ each other out awhile. Neither had ever seen hard dick before. Neither knew for certain if he ever would again. So neither was gonna take a chance and fuck this up. They wanted to take their time with it, really get into it good.

“You’re fucking huge, Tommy.” Streak knew how to whisper real quiet now, it seems.

“Yeah, bud. Almost six inches. Measured the fucker again just last week. Never changes anymore, but I wonder if it still could grow. You think?”

“Bigger’n mine anyway. What’s that stuff kinda-like clinged right at the end? You weren’t bein’ a fuck and shot yer shorts already, didja?”

“You don’t do this?” shrugged Tommy. “And no, I didn’t spuzz yet. Don’t worry about that, bud. Don’t really know what it is, but it’s fuckin’ awesome to smear it around all over my cock. I call it The Leaks.”

“Fucking hot, man. I wish I got The Leaks, too, Tommy.”

“You look okay to me, Streak. Wish mine curved all smackup wicked-nasty like that. I like the way it’s all stickin’ stiff right up against yer stomach like a dog-dick.”

“I sorta like the way yours sticks waylong out there straight, bud.”

“Ya mean it? ‘Fuck’ yeah?”

“‘Fuck’ yeah.”

“We’re fuckin’ awesome, bud.”

“We’re fuckin’ bonerboys.”

“We’re . . . pervs porkin’ wood wieners.”

Oh yeah, man. They both busted up laughing like crazy, trying to keep it down, though, right? But then there was a sound outside, so they went to trade looks through the little perv-slit that Tommy had sliced through his curtain. The rents were getting in the car and soon pulled out of the driveway. Headed right on down the road.

“I fucking forgot all about it,” Tommy burst out. “It’s their fucking alchy thing. They’ll be gone forever, bud.”

A pillow slammed him in the back of the head.

“How the fuck could you forget something like that, man? It’s the most important fucking thing in the whole fucking world, you fuck.”

Nah, man. He wasn’t really pissed. Mostly he was just yellin’ to enjoy the noise, cuz now they could perv it up louder than fuck.

So back down they went to the perv-lounge floor. Right back to facing each other, up on their heels, staring wide-eyed another minute, until Tommy finally brought it up.

“Gonna admit something else, bud.”

Streak gulped but waited silently, his boner pulsing hard and hugging even tighter against his gut.

Tommy’s was waving and thumping around all over. He looked into Streak’s eyes, and his own eyes went dark. “I wanna feel you up,” he muttered.

Time stopped. Streak managed a horny little huff, but he couldn’t find any words dirty enough for this kind of a “yes.”

“I mean, really feel you up, Streak. Wanna feel all over that fuckin’ sickhard fuckstick, bud.”

Streak’s cock tried to jump. He huffed a little again. Then a dark nod of dirty eyes gave Tommy his answer, so the kid’s hand trembled out excitedly.

A curl of fingertips swirled around Streak’s pointy dickhead, and they both sucked in a breath real hard. The fingertips edged farther and fondled the ridge, the thumb searching just under the cleft of the head to fuck around with the little flip of skin there. Fingers then flattened out and forced their way between the skinny hardon and Streak’s smooth stomach. The hand closed slowly and slid down toward the scar. The fingertips began probing all around for veins. The palm was soon sliding farther down the slender shaft until the hand’s heel wedged its way into the sloping sharp curve at the base. The whole thing finally settled firmly around the entire rigid cock and rested while Tommy it held there against Streak’s swirling little bush.

“Fuck, Streak. Yer one hard horny fucking perv, bud.” Tommy squeezed the throbbing boner and watched the thing bulge. He snickered as Streak humped some spasms through his rod. He wiggled his fingers and perved out to the pulses for another minute before finally looking up into Streak’s eyes. “Fucking awesome, dude.” He let go and waited.

There was an almost ugly little guttural rasp: “gonna feel you up, too, fucker.” Fingers slowly slipped around the center of Tommy’s hardon. The palm hefted the slightly thicker shaft as Streak’s hand lightly traveled along and thudded into the base. Then his thumb slowly traced a large vein from deep in the pubes. The thick tube of surging blood pulsed with Tommy’s heartbeat as it shoved its way in a squiggle all around and down the top nearly to the ridge where Streak’s horny hand finally slid back to the tip. He swirled his fingers over the thicker steel-hard mushroom of a dickhead and whirled the tips of them around with a flutter, then a press. It smeared that drop of The Leaks all over the end around the hole as Tommy’s eyes crossed briefly. When he regained his vision, Streak had let go and was holding his fingers close to his face, studying the thin smear of The Leaks intently. “Check it. This fuckin’ stuff’s all slimyhot ‘n slippery. That’s way, bud. Fuckin’ studly.”

“I’ll share it if ya want,” grinned Tommy. “Don’t got much, though, so we may hafta smear it dick to dick, huh?” Their eyes met, and a wicked smile passed between ‘em. Dirty boys. Thinkin’ dirtier by the second.

Streak’s fingers curled around Tommy’s cock firmly this time, and he gave the fucker a good solid squeeze. Tommy reached on over there again, too, and did the same right back. And they went on doing that to each other. Tradin’ good firm squeezes, makin’ sure the other knew for certain that his buddy thought he was packin’ awesome wood.

The only thing they weren’t completely sure about was what to look at. Both ideas seemed equally hot: check out boner; stare back nasty. Back and forth, from the rod to the eyes; deep, horny squeezes matched with deep, horny-as-fuck looks.

“Gonna admit something else,” Tommy muttered in a while. Streak breathed in hard. Tommy’s voice dropped low again as he looked Streak dead in the eye: “I think you need a good, deep nutbag checkup.” Tommy’s lip curled into filth. And that smirk on Streak? Man, that had to be the fuckin’ nastiest look a kid ever gave another.

Both boys reached over at the same time and cupped a handful of firm adolescent balls. The nutsacks soon dropped lower in the heat that rose from handling things down there, making it easy to mildly stroke the bags down into pliable masses that hung way low. The hands moved around, manipulating the rocks. Soon, curious fingertips began probing deeper against the things they found inside; first carefully examining all the heavy teen tubes, then busily inspecting thick young testicles for a minute or two. Checkin’ stuff.

The boys were soon dragging forearms across their brows, wiping all the sweat away before they scooted even closer, with Tommy’s cock nearly poking his bud in the stomach now. A new drop of The Leaks was joining in, too.

“Let’s pack in tight, bud—so we can get in there awesome.” Tommy dropped to his butt, pulling Streak down with a hand on the boy’s bare shoulder. He spread his own legs wide and grabbed Streak by the ankles, pulling the boy’s skinny, smooth legs around his stomach till they were thrown as far forward as possible over his thighs. Streak’s little butt nudged snugly into Tommy’s. Their nuts now mashed together beneath the raging hardons.

Streak closed his eyes and moaned a faint “fuuuu. . . . Dag, dude, that feels fuckin’ gnar with our nads all pushed together and everything.”

“Gonna get it gnarlier,” snickered Tommy. “Gonna whap our pervy hard cocks together, too, bud.” He squirmed and pulled on his buddy’s thighs tighter till the bases of the dickshafts traded a thump. They spent a couple minutes trying to grind in closer, feeling balls rolling around together, grunting out against hard dickroot bumps with each shove as they tried anxiously to connect more cock.

“I wanna feel our sticks slidin’ more, Streak. Gonna pull on yer fuckbone, I mean out from yer stomach, so I can rub mine into it real harder-like, bud.”

“Go for it,” Streak breathed back. “Gimme some fuckrubs, bud.”

Tommy’s hand worked its way between Streak’s curved-up boner and stomach again. He gently cocked the thing out forward to press at his own while his other hand guided the shaft of his rod into a side-to-side slide of hard dick-on-dick. The shafts dueled back and forth, and Tommy smacked Streak’s bone with his own like he wanted to start a swordfight.

“Fuck, Tommy, that fucking slime you get feels nasty on my boner, bud.”

“Yeah, fuckboy, let’s perv out playin’ with that shit on our rods.”

Tommy shut his eyes and dropped a hand to the bottom of his boner, concentrating as he took it by the base. A tight ring of a forefinger and thumb slid slowly up, working for it, until a new little drip of The Leaks spilled out onto a fingertip. He opened his eyes and looked into Streak’s. Then he reached over and gave the kid what he wanted.

Streak’s face went all screwy as Tommy slowly slinked a single finger, smeared with a thin, fine film of The Leaks, all along his throbbing young wood. All Streak could manage for a minute was one more faint “fuuuu,” but it was enough to say it all as he watched Tommy work up another small drop. The boy started another slow smear from the deep curve into a smoothing slide along little veins everywhere and finished with a ride in there all around under the sharp ridge.

“I think I can getcha wetter goin’ dick to dick, Streak,” said Tommy as he slid the ring of fingers tightly for another thin drizzle and then grazed the tip of his cockhead along the dent at the underside just beneath Streak’s ridge. He faintly humped his bone up and down along the wad of skin till he oozed up still another drop, that single finger joining at the tip and working the stuff in. “Fuck, bud. I never got this fuckin’ much of The Leaks before.”

And Streak? “Stiff” is such a fucking understatement, man. They don’t have a word for a boner this hard.

Tommy’s eyes studied his best bud’s cock intently. The rigid bone was throbbing against the boy’s stomach as Tommy’s fingers fondled everywhere over it while his other hand guided the vaguely leaking tip of his own hardon up and down the underside of Streak’s burning shaft. The thin wet trail began darkening the colors of the dick more deeply. In a minute, Tommy went back to just the single, slippery finger, this time in a hook around the shaft with a pulling slide from against the stomach, starting deep in the pubes and wetting the topside of the shaft right on up to the tip and off. He repeated it over and over slowly, the finger gently but firmly pulling the curve outward until the dickhead snapped free at the end of each stroke as Streak’s dog-rod slammed back with a smack into the kid’s tight stomach—the head now very red, fine veins gleaming down the length, the shaft throbbing and pitching.

“Fuuuu. . . . That feels perverted, bud,” Streak huffed. “Yer a badass bonerboy.”

“Got somethin’ even pervier for smearin’ ya with The Leaks, bud. Gonna get right on top of you, fuckboy. Gonna hump dick together and try ‘n wet ya down bad, bud.”

Tommy pressed a moist palm into the center of Streak’s thin chest till the kid fell backward onto the floor in a sprawl. He climbed up to his knees, put his arms into pushups at either side of his best bud’s chest, and started dropping forward. His skinny little buttmuscles clenched as he settled lightly over Streak’s crotch. At first, he felt the tip of his banging boner poke into Streak’s tight stomach and start slipping around over the kid’s hard young rod. He eased down farther and began slowly pressing the slicking, stiff cocks together, moving them into a gentle up and down slide against each other.

“Damn, this is fucked hot; boner all pokin’ ‘n slippin’ altogether.”

“Fuckin’ yah, bro. Almost good as bonin’ one into Mindy, huh?”

They both snickered until Streak began slowly and deeply grinding back up into Tommy, too, humping his hardon dirtily into his bud. The nads sloshed around as their nutsacks melted together. Tommy’s cock speared and poked Streak’s gut each time it slipped off when he’d lose the slow slide of bones. He’d hunch back up, line ‘em together again, and back they’d go to grinding out a mild rhythm.

Their noses were just inches apart. They felt each other’s hot, horny breaths on their faces. And their eyes stared nastily into each other’s minds, dancing dirtily each time one of them uttered a deep, groaning “fuuuu.”

In minutes, drips of fine sweat began to sprinkle down from Tommy’s face into drops on Streak’s as their bodies bashed against each other tighter when Tommy tried a few harder-shoving thrusts, muttering a low “fuck” each time he dicked it at his bud. Tiny tits began skating through more slippery sweat. Slickness began connecting their thin, smooth chests into one as they rubbed warm and tight. Skinny washboarded ribcages began bumping up and down over every bone just beneath the gliding drenched skin.

“Fuck. You better stop, Tommy, or I’m gonna go off jizzin’ like a racehorse pissin’ sperm all over you.”

“Well . . . I wouldn’t mind ya spuzzin’ on me anyways . . . ya know?”

Streak gripped Tommy’s shoulders. “Yeah. I know. Me, too; no worries; it’s all good. But I jus’ wanna make sure I’m lookin’ at it when ya spurt it up, bud. I really wanna see that thing go off. Don’tcha wanna see mine shootin’, too, bro?”

Tommy’s eyes gleamed. “Dude, yer a smart fucking perv. Yeah, I wanna see it when it squirts outa you, too, bro.” He pulled up off Streak, and they moved back into the tangle of legs thrown over thighs. Their butts smacked into each other again. Their nuts mashed together again tightly between them. Their dickroots thudded back into one.

Streak wiped another wave of sweat off his forehead and looked down at himself. “I’m fuckin’ wickedass wooded off that Leaks stuff, dude,” he breathed.

Tommy stared at his buddy’s pulsing red cock, too. “Yeah, I sure gotcha stoneboned from my nasty dickdrips. Awesome, fucker.”

“Don’t think I ever popped one all poked this hard before, bud. The dickhead’s pushin’ my fucking gut in.”

“Yeah, yer wienered-out like hell, all right.”

“Damn, I wish there was more of that shit.”

“Yeah, but I got some shit to make ya feel just as perverted, bud.” Tommy leaned over and reached under his bed, hauling out an old, smelly, stained t-shirt from which a small jar of Vaseline flopped out. He whipped out a little hunk and started smearing it up and down Streak’s straining stick. “Betcha some perv invented this shit,” he snickered.

“Bet it was Mindy, man,” Streak snickered back.

“Yeah, the hot bitch,” Tommy snorted with a chuckle.

“But I bet the bitch don’t put it on nasty as you.”

“Bet she didn’t invent it anyway,” said Tommy as he slicked Vaseline good and tight everywhere on the spasming rod. “Thinkin’ up shit this hot had to come from some total perved out dude.”

“Yeah, another studly pervfuck just like us.”

Streak jolted to a spasm and groaned as a hot tremble of fingers from Tommy’s other hand began fiddling slickness over his nutsack, too, coaxing testicles into rising and falling in thick masses waiting to explode.

“Dag, dude, look at you, Streak. Yer nuts are so fuckin’ full, an’ yer so kickass stiff as stone, too, bud.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed into Streak’s. “Too fuckin’ hot. Gonna keep goin’ on ya.” His grasp on the rod slowly squeezed for stiffness, then slid up and off the top, letting the bonehardon snap against his buddy’s gut again. “Gonna hafta masturbat’cha, Streak. I gotta be the one to yank that nasty shit outa there.” His fingers re-curled around the rod and started slowly rubbing, and the fingers of his other hand hefted nuts as hot skatersperm began skipping upward into the tubes, getting ready. “You like this? You gettin’ off on the way I jack ya, bud? You gonna be a bro, too, Streakers? Gonna perv out for me ‘n drill it outa my nads, too?”

“You think I don’t want to or some shit? Why the fuck should any dude hafta beat himself off with a hot bud right there to do it? Gonna bate ya till ya spew it up sick ‘n thick, too, Tommydude.” Streak threw a skinny arm over Tommy’s shoulder and let it hang over his best bud’s back into the air. His other hand slipped down until his fingers found a sturdy bone sticking up from a thin pile of pubes. He began getting all over it, feeling and stroking. “Yeah, yer all nastyhard, bud. Betcha really wanna blast one bad, don’tcha?”

“Fuck yeah, fucker. Fuck around with me, man.”

“Fuck yeah, bud, yer fingers feel good, too. And that shit yer usin’s fuckin’ awesome, dude. You use this stuff all the time?”

“Every fuckin’ time, bud. I like it slick ‘n slippery all over, and The Leaks ain’t enough. How’s it feel, you sick perv?” Tommy half-asked with a wicked, knowing look.

“Like this, you sick perv.” Streak’s thin fingers scooped out a small wad from the jar. He worked it in his hand and then clamped a grip around the shaft of Tommy’s thumping cock, grinning as the boy sucked in a hard breath. “Wickedsick as fuck, huh?”

“Fuck, Streak, smackin’ off’s way hotter all perved out together like this. We shoulda been doin’ this shit a long time before now, huh?”

“Yeah, bud-rubbin’s better.”

“Every fuckin’ time from now on, right?”

“Jack buddies.”

“Beatoff buds.”

“Gonna make you bust so fucking hard.”

“Gonna make you dump harder, bud.”

“Yer so fuckin’ stiff, Tommydude.”

“Yer too fuckin’ stiff, Streakers.”

“We’re hot nasty skaterboys.”

“Skater bater jerkbuds.”

It wasn’t just their voices that were starting to pound out a rhythm now. The air was also filling with the syncing sound of Vaseline smacking to the steadily faster fistoffs on skinnyboy skatercocks.

Their foreheads banged together, knocking both black caps off. Their faces even more heavily trickled sweat now, and the boys rubbed foreheads to mix it all together. The brows began shuddering in skids up and down against each other in time to whacking hands. The eyes wanted to keep trading hot gazes, but they blurred out of focus in the sweaty tight close-up. Eyelids fell into vague slits as the foreheads rubbed more hotly.

More sweat poured. Noses soon began sliding around and probing at each other, smearing first the sweat, then smearing the spit that got nudged off from lips, till it all got worked into one as they slowed and grazed more lightly against each other’s hot face.

Then lips began exploring, too. They dragged down jaws, then vaguely together just to check out the taste. And tongues finally gave in and trailed over cheeks and along jawbones, too. It felt hotter lickin’ a bud, even if it was only just for the fuck of it.

They finally pulled back some so they could lock eyes again. But the looks now showed they were ten times more into each other, even though neither wanted to admit it was off the shit with the tongues.

Tommy remained focused on the jacking but began running his other palm all around Streak’s nads even more excitedly now. He fondled and petted his buddy’s packed nuts, sensing pounds of teenboy pressure building to a boil of rich skatekid sperm.

Streak pulled his free arm down off Tommy’s shoulder and sent his own second hand down to work over everything now, too. He fingered testes and toyed with Tommy’s bag. He felt down farther with a shove and began rubbing deep between the thighs.

They were pressed so tightly that the hands working nutsacks became nearly one as they brushed constantly in the fusion of thighs, butts and nuts. Their eyes roamed everywhere to watch the stuff they were both doing, flying between the eyes, around both bodies and over both crotches equally. Neither knew any longer which boy he was into more.

“Let’s jack all the jizz right out of each other now, Streakers.”

“Let’s do it, Tommydude. Gonna jerk it out like fuck for ya. Promise.”

“Yeah, beat me, ya hot fuckin’ dog-dicked skatepunk.”

“Nasty skater punkboys. Whackin’ out.”

“Wanna feel you fuckin’ ropin’ skater sexsauce up my chest, stud.”

“Yeah, stud. Wanna feel my face get all blasted with yer hot fuckin’ skatesperm, too.”

“Gonna blast that face with my nastyhot, funked-out spermknot, Streak.”

“Gonna fuckin’ coat ya in my smelly, thick skaterboy badass sperm, Tommy.”

“Gonna get skaterjizz all over ya any second now, bud.”

“Me, too, bud. Any second. Yer gonna get jizzed on.”

“Wanna get jizzed.”

“Wanna get jizzed, too.”

The boys’ nuts were pulled up tight in mashing sacks. Their dicks were hammering in sync with strokes. Those two horned-out skatepunks were ready to rip. They turned it to a dare and whacked hard to win.

“Bust with it, bud.”

“Gimme a fuckin’ face-full.”

“Gonna dump a load, ain’tcha?”

“C’mon ‘n dump one on me.”

“Dump it out first, pervert.”

“You dump yer jizz.”

“Dump it fuckin now, nastyass.

“You dump it, pervpunk.”

And it happened right then, though I couldn’t tell you which one blew first. But like slamming a fist down hard on a full tube of Crest, one of those kids pissed up some really thick dickpaste, man. It smacked straight up in a splat into both boys’ shuddering jaws. But the other was right behind, gushin’ up a fat fuckwad that threw in a long clinging snake between the two skinny chests.

Then heavy white blasts of skaterboy sperm began blowing long and hard out of both. It streaked up all over chins and necks as two sets of eyes looked down anxiously to see it. It shot hard and straight across both opening mouths as twin sets of lungs heaved out with a loud “FUCK!” A spraying wave jizzrinsed across both sets of bared, snarling white teeth before spermsquirts whizzed and loudly splattered—right in against the roofs of both mouths.

And then lips smashed together in a what-the-fuck seal and kissed hot sperm around into each other. Tongues twisted and licked together, then moved around inside. They dug down and searched between the teeth and lips. They scooped up more and tongue-dueled it in there everywhere.

They shifted into slower longdicked strokes, milking each other now, squeezing out more, pulling every rope out tight to the tip, making sure the whole thing felt good as fuck for each other. Stringy skaterspunk spat up, still spewing in long streaks all over them. Pellets of smelly punksauce pitched out frothing down both.

Hands finally let go as arms plastered around each other, and the mouths squirmed together with a near-laugh as they found the right fit: with chests and stomachs fused as one, dicks were finally all smashed together between the tangle of legs and mashing nuts. Wrapped tight in an embrace they could hump cock together hard. And they did it, too, grinding dicks like animals to pump more waves of sperm.

A thick sheet of spunk was smeared all over their stuck stomachs now, but the two skaterpunk kid-dicks kept spitting up more. A crackling sound began rising between them as their smooth skin brushed the spread of pearly white spackle all around. They hummed against each other’s mouths and tossed tiny yelps into each other, until only thin spasms remained and a fine, now near-clear trickle was seeping slowly down along the softening, glued-as-one cocks.

Eventually they were wasted, and their lips popped apart. The embrace moved to a lighter hug, then on to grasped shoulders. They backed off a little more to hold forearms, and heads bumped together as the boys looked down between them. Jizz was everywhere. Both bodies were plastered completely.

Finally they looked back up; finally their eyes met again with a dazed glaze; and finally their hands dropped almost reluctantly from each other.

“Dude. We gave each other tongue, man.”

“That a problem?”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“Well, I’m sayin’ it was fucking hot.”

“Yeah . . . guess I’m sayin’ that, too.

They untangled, and Streak started searching for his clothes from every corner. “Fuck, it sure smells like filth in here, huh, bud?”

“Yeah, bud. Hot, huh?”

“No fucking shit. Sperm-smell rocks. So anyways, I guess I gotta go.”

“Yeah, fucking rents.”

“Yeah, they’re fucked. But hey, you wanna do this shit tomorrow?”

“Fuck yeah, perv. And all weekend, too.”

“Batin’ each other the whole weekend. Now that’s fuckin’ perved.”

“Got somethin’ else to add, too. Ever stuck a finger up yer butt while yer beatin’ it, bud?”

“No, bud. Is it awesome?”

“Oh, dude. It’s as perved out as a dude could get.”