by Carson Carruthers

Dear Reader, I hope that you enjoyed the first story and were not as critical as John Rice was about everything. I knew that I skipped around, but when he gave me the story back it looked like it had blood on it, there were so many red marks. He gave me a "c" minus. From the grades I heard the little old ladies talking about at break time that must have been one of the highest grades in the class. I know that John Rice was not happy with the class. He started putting things on the board like the difference between "lie" and "lay" and the three parts of each verb. Oh, and "there", "their" and "they're". He said that anyone who misused those three again might as well drop the course because they would fail anyway. I mean he was up there almost screaming. I noticed one of the ladies with tears in her eyes. Another one, the one who was always asking questions and sucking up to him, started making excuses for using "git" for "get". John told her that just because she was a Southerner she did not have to express herself by spelling words incorrectly. I almost died when I saw the look on her face. She is the president of the Daughters of the Confederacy. She is taking the course so she can write a book about some general or other.

About my paper. John kept writing things like "keep it simple", "start at the beginning and tell the story to the ending", "don't confuse your reader", "learn that one thing has to follow the other when you are telling a story". I don't guess that was too bad. Some of his remarks to the class were really harsh. He told us that we were not writers and probably never would be, but if we were going to be in his class he wanted the stories to have a beginning, a middle and an end. He said that you started out with either "I" telling the story or telling it in the third person and you do not change from one to the other. He did say one thing that helped me. If you are telling a story in the third person you never use "I" except in dialogue. That makes sense. I was tempted to quit, but then I found out that most of the class had gotten "d's" on their papers. I don't think even cold hearted John Rice could give the women "f's" on their papers. Most of them were old enough to be his mother. The next assignment is to tell a story about something that happened in our childhood. Here it is. I think this one starts out and has a middle and end. Dear Reader, be kinder than John Rice and enjoy the story.

From the time that I was in the first grade until the summer after the fourth grade, Uncle Spencer and I enjoyed sex once or twice a day. Sometimes we had to take off in his old truck and find a back road to get some privacy in the middle of the day. Every night -- I did not miss a night sucking his cock. Even when he went out on the weekends with the boys, he always woke me up when he came home, so I could give him a blow job. I was getting pretty good with those blow jobs, too. I had lots of experience. It was during this time that I discovered that other boys liked doing this stuff. It was at one of those birthday parties, one Saturday afternoon. It must have been in October. My classmate Randy McPherson had a birthday party. No girls. He was going to be eight. I already thought that he was gorgeous. Randy had red hair. It was copper. Whereas I was dark, he was alabaster. And I mean white. His legs and arms were long and spindly, like a young colt. He was really smart in school. The thing that made me get a boner though was his lips. He had the reddest most delicious looking lips in the world. I loved strawberries. Strawberry ice cream was my favorite. That was exactly what his lips were like. Uncle Spencer and I never did much kissing. Occasionally he would kiss me on the forehead. Where I got the idea from I have no clue, but I wanted to kiss this boy. It was an obsession.

As I said, there were no girls at the party. The other thing was that this was going to be a sleep over. There were eight boys who were in the class that were going to be there. We were going to set up tents in the back yard and sleep out. This was exciting to a not yet eight year old. Randy's parents set up a grill out back of the house. We each grilled our own hotdogs. I think I must have eaten five of them. I had never had hot dogs so good. Randy's mother had chili, cole slaw, diced onions, mustard, catsup, Texas Pete Hot Sauce and potato chips. After we finished eating, they lit the birthday cake, and we sang.

It was still early when we finished all the formalities of eating, singing and giving presents. Somehow without anyone saying, we all knew who would be sleeping in each of the tents. I was to sleep in the tent with Randy. I could care less who was sleeping with whom otherwise. I found out later that I should have noticed. As soon as it was dark, Randy's father lit a Coleman lantern and set it out on the picnic table. The eight of us sat around telling ghost stories. Finally, his mom came out and told us to get in our tents and go to sleep.

We crawled into the two-man tent. It was pretty snug, but there was plenty of room for two small eight year olds. I was hoping that it would be smaller. The closer we were to each other the better my chances of getting a kiss. I had pretty well figured out that we were going to have to have sex before I would get the kiss. Hell, I would have sucked his ass hole to be able to kiss him. Ummm, I thought, that sounds nice. I already liked the way things felt when they rubbed up my ass hole. I assume that Uncle Spencer had already started my education of wanting a cock in my ass by then, but suck an ass hole was really depraved. I laughed to myself.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about something Timmy said." Timmy was the class clown and was always telling jokes.

Randy was pulling off his shirt. "I thought you were laughing at me. Because I am so skinny."

"I would never laugh at you for being skinny. I might laugh at you for having red hair but not for being skinny."

We both started laughing then. He knew that I thought his red hair was pretty because I had told him so. That is right. I told him that I thought that he had pretty hair. It was strange for a boy to tell another boy that he had pretty hair. I never claimed not to be strange. Randy had even said that he thought that it was strange, but that he thought that I had beautiful eyes. A mutual admiration society. We were inseparable at school. We sometimes got to spend the afternoon playing at one or the other's homes. He lived on a farm about two miles from us, but to eight year olds that was the distance to the moon and then you had to convince your mother to let you go and drive you there. This was our first ever sleep over. I mean, I had stayed with my Aunt Grace and spent the night there, but that did not count. My cousin Robert was a few years younger than I. Randy continued to take his clothes off. I started to get undressed myself. I sat down on the blankets that I had brought to sleep on. I did not have a sleeping bag. My mother refused to buy me one since she said that I would only out grow it like I did everything else. It must have been expensive because they usually bought me whatever the other boys had. This was one thing on which even the fact that Randy had a bag did not change anything. I was embarrassed but when I got to the party only two of the other boys had bags. The rest of us lugged our blankets into the tents.

There was what is called a farm light in the McPherson's back yard. We all had them. They were sort of like streetlights for the country. They came on at dusk and went off automatically in the morning. It pretty well lighted up the backyard. I could make out that Randy had all his clothes off, at least down to his briefs, in the dim light that filtered into the tent. I was already hard. This made me even harder. I shucked off my jeans in a hurry to get to the same state that he was.


"Yeah?" I was starting to straighten out the blankets, trying to make them comfortable.

"You want to sleep together? We could spread my bag out and then use your blankets to cover up with. Want to do that?"

That was it. I knew at that point that I was going to kiss his lips that night. I might be called queer the next day by the rest of the boys. I did not care. We spread the bag out.

"Hey, I hafta pee." "Why don't you go behind the oak tree at the edge of the yard. Come on. I'll go with you."

Here we are traipsing across his backyard in our briefs to take a piss. My underwear was pushed straight out in front of me. I had a woody for sure. I knew that Randy could see it. I wanted him to see it. When we got behind the tree, we both pulled our briefs down and started to piss. I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Damn! Yours is big," he said in a whisper.

"Want to touch it? Go ahead."

"You touch mine?"

"Okay. How's `bout on three."

"One, two, three . . ."

We grabbed each other's cocks. I started stroking his. He just stood there holding mine. He had no idea how to masturbate. I thought to myself how cute he was standing there holding my dick.

"Come on. Let's go to the tent," I told him. "We can do this some more in there. People might see us out here."

As we went by the other tents, I could hear groaning coming from the one where Asa and Rick Plum were sleeping. I did not think too much about it then since I had no idea that these boys knew anything about sex. Randy did not even know how to jack a dick.

We got back in the tent. Standing there facing him, I reached down and pushed his briefs to his ankles. He did the same to me. I jacked on his peter. He caught on and did the same thing for me.

"Come on, let's lay down," I told him. We spread his bag out since we were going to sleep together. I pulled a light blanket over our legs. I turned on my side facing him. I reached down and started beating his meat again. We did that for some time. I put my arm under his neck and pulled his head closer to me. I guess I was excited and pulled too hard. We bumped foreheads. "Ouch!" we both said in unison. Then we were really quiet. I pushed my face to his and held him close to me. I started out licking his eyelids. Then I sucked on his nose. He was sort of giggling while I was doing this, but we kept jerking on each other's cocks at the same time. I then kissed his cheeks and his chin. Finally, I zeroed in on my prize. Those strawberry lips. I pressed my lips to his. My tongue flicked out and I licked his lips. Strawberry. Could my imagination have gotten the better of me? Was I making this up? Then I realized that we had strawberry ice cream with the birthday cake. Spencer had talked to me about French kissing when I told him about hearing some of the older boys talking about it. He explained that it was when two people put their tongues in each other's mouths. It was one of the means of foreplay. Then he had to explain foreplay. Spencer did not tell me that it would be like this. I loved it. I could not get enough of Randy's mouth. It was really sweet. My tongue explored his teeth and the roof of his mouth. I ran it under his tongue. He then did the same to me. Other boys talk about how gross it is to stick your tongue into someone else's mouth. Neither of us thought that it was gross. Even most gay guys don't like kissing very much after they get older. We were both enjoying it, and both were as hard as steel. I guess we did this as long as we could and eventually just fell asleep.

I know we must have been doing it for a while because the next morning my peter was as red as his hair. I could see his little cock lying there limp up against his belly. His dick was pretty red also. Hell, it was just a pretty cock no matter what color it was. I wondered if when he got hair around his dick it would be red like on his head. I leaned over his body. Thinking that he was still asleep, I kissed his cock. "Ummmm. Do that again."

"You like that?"

" Oh, yeah. Please do it again."

"Will you do me?"

"Sure. You want to count three again?"

So I moved into a classic sixty-nine position and counted three. We both kissed each other's dick. Spence had sucked mine, but it was not like this. I really loved Randy McPherson, and Randy McPherson loved me. I took his cock into my mouth. He licked mine and then did the same. Here we were in the early morning of a beautiful autumn day. The rooster was just starting to crow. I could hear other animals. A cow was mooing for her morning fodder. There was even the bleating of goats or lambs. Maybe both. All was well with Carl's world. I was sucking my best friend's peter and he was sucking mine. I felt really good.

Everything stayed pretty good in Carl's world. I was having sex with Spence a couple of time a day if we could find a way to get some privacy. If not, then at least every night. I had found out that Randy liked sucking cock almost as much as I did. We found ways to get together in the woods behind the school at recess a couple of times a week. About once a month we would beg until the parents would let us have a sleep over. Those were loads of fun. One that I especially remember was when my parents were unexpectedly called out of town because my mother's brother was in a bad accident. They would be gone for the entire weekend if he lived. If he died they were not sure when they would be back, but they would call. This was an uncle that I knew only slightly. He lived in North Carolina. He and his wife had visited a couple of times over the years. We had never been there. They had no children. Seems that something happened when he was coming down a mountain on a wet road. Spencer told her that it was okay, that he would take care of me. Then she remembered that Randy was supposed to sleep over. She was going to call his mother. Spencer told her that it was okay. He could take care of both of us. She was not to worry and go on to see her brother. It really did not sound like he was going to make it. If she wanted to see him alive, she had better hurry. Spencer told her to go on, that he was a grown man and could take care of everything.

Randy and I rode the school bus back to my house that Friday afternoon just like we had planned. I told him that everything would be okay. Uncle Spencer was really cool. I did not tell him what Spencer and I did. I figured that we would just wait and see what happened. I had told Spencer about Randy, so he knew that Randy liked sucking cock. We were both unsure if he would want to suck Spencer's cock. After we changed into our everyday non-school clothes, we went out to the barn to find Uncle Spencer. He had the mare tied up and the stallion was fucking her. Randy started to giggle. I could not help but laugh.

"What's wrong with you two. Never see two horses fucking?"

Randy looked at me with absolute shock on his face. A grown up had said "fuckin'".

"I told you he was cool. Look at the size of his peter."


"See how it is making the material stand out like a tent?" I said, pointing to where Spencer obviously had an erection. "He gets hard just like we do."

"You're kiddin' ?"

"What? Did you think we were goin' t' stop doin' this when we grow up?"

Randy and I both watched the stallion's huge cock sliding in and out of the mare. I reached over and felt of his cock. It was hard. The little nub was pushing against his jeans like crazy. He pushed my hand away. He was afraid that Spencer was going to catch us. I pulled him to me and kissed him quickly and whispered, "Quit worrying. I told ya, he does it too."

"You mean . . .?"

"Yeah. I mean . . ."


"Everything. We've done it a lot. Do you think you would -- you know -- with him?" I have no idea why I was being so indecisive. I was usually the one that said we are going to, and we did. I guess I was afraid of someone finding out about me and Spencer. When you have kept a secret for two years, it feels sort of really strange to tell someone else. I thought about what if Randy told someone. What if he did not like it after we did it with Spencer and then would not do it with me again? I really was scared for the first time ever about anything that was sexual. It turned out that it was needless worry. Randy and I got it on with Spencer that afternoon in the barn. We each sucked his cock. It was Randy's first time to see a man cum. He loved it. Before the weekend was over he was swallowing Spencer's cum like a professional. I was sort of jealous that he was getting more than I was. Then I thought that I would be getting it every day after he left. We really had a good time. His parents were going to pick him up on Sunday afternoon. That gave us all day Saturday to suck cock.

Saturday night Spencer took us with him to the drive-in. He bought us both hamburgers and shakes. He left us in the car while he went in to talk with his buddies. After we finished eating, we watched the people coming and going. After a while we got bored with that and started playing around. We had our shorts down, and Randy's head was in my lap sucking my cock. I was leaning up against the driver's door when I heard someone say, "Looks like you're having fun."

I almost shit in my pants. I was grabbing Randy's head to pull him off. When I looked up I saw that it was the curb hop. He was a boy about fourteen or fifteen that worked there. He would bring your food on trays and then come pick the trays up. Usually, Spencer left him a tip. Shit. I did not even have any change for him and now he had caught up. "Calm down, man. I like that sort of thing too," he said, sort of looking around to see if anyone could hear him.

I guess the coast must have been clear. It was pretty late and most of the cars had left. Teenagers had curfews. "I get off work in about five minutes. You're my last pick up. You think he would suck my cock?"

By this time Randy had raised up and was looking at the boy. "Yeah. If you'll suck mine. We don't do it with anyone unless they do it, too." That was a little na´ve on Randy's part but would still be a good rule of thumb.

"If you will, I'll suck you too," I told him.

He was cute. I guess he must have been about five-ten and sort of chunky. Not fat but not skinny either. He had long shaggy hair. My mother would have hated it. It was dirty blond and curly. He had blue eyes and a cute nose. There was some acne, but not as much as some boys his age have. I thought he looked pretty cool. He had on jeans and a flannel shirt with a leather jacket over that. It was already getting sort of cold and Thanksgiving was coming at the end of the month. "I'll be back in a few minutes. What if Spencer comes out and catches us?"

"He won't. He likes to drink beer late on Saturday nights. He'll be there until closing. We've got about an hour." I checked my watch.

The boy's name was Bobby Pool. He came back in what seemed like no time. He must have really rushed to finish up his work. He said that Spencer had just ordered another beer. I was right. He was fourteen and in the eighth grade. He said that he had failed a grade or two since his folks split up. He lived with his mother down the street. He could be home in a few minutes from there. He liked working at the drive in. The whole time we were talking Randy had him in the back seat and was taking his clothes off. I was leaning over the back watching. I wanted to see what he looked like naked. I was also the look out. From the front seat I could see if anyone was coming near the car. It was mostly dark where we were parked, and people could not see what was going on. Bobby told us that was why most people parked in the back like we had. They did that so that they could make out. No, not two guys together, but boys and their dates. He said that he had seen lots of that sort of sex when he had walked up on people. We were the first guys that he had caught. He liked it with other guys. He did not care much for women, as he put it. Then he finally shut up. I looked back to see what was going on. He had his impressive five and a half inch cock in Randy's wanton mouth. His own mouth was sucking on Randy's nub of a peter. I sat there with my boner about to break as it pushed against my jeans.

"I'm gonna cum." He tried to push Randy's head away. Randy kept resisting. "What the hell?"

"Cum. Shoot in my mouth."

"Aughhhhhhhhh. Oh, my God." Bobby raised up almost into a bow. He made some sort of grunting sound with each shot that he unloaded. Randy was working up and down on his cock like there was no tomorrow. I thought to myself that he is the one that should have been named Bob.

As soon as he got over cumming, Bobby started talking again. This guy was almost like an adult to us eight year olds and here he was talking to us like we were his normal friends. We were both fascinated. I could tell that Randy was extremely happy not just with the conversation. He had not missed a drop of the cum and had swallowed it all. I cannot remember all the things that we talked about, but I do remember that he told us that he had sex with (I counted) . . . there were sixteen guys with whom he had already had sex, and he was only fourteen. We were numbers seventeen and eighteen. He said the first guy he had sucked was his next door neighbor when they were four. Hell, he started two years before I did. He said that they went to daycare at the factory in town. When no one was looking they would hide in the closet and do each other. The other boy had learned to do it from his older brother. Some of the people that he mentioned that were on the list were people we knew from Boy Scouts. Although we were only Cub Scouts, sometimes the two groups would meet together. There were really only a handful of Boy Scouts. When I asked Bobby about it, he said that by the time they got old enough to be Boy Scouts most of them had girl friends or something else to keep them busy, so the ones that were left in Scouts were usually queer. That was the word he used. I thought how awful it sounded. Then I realized who had said it. There was one name that he mentioned that really set me off into a fantasy.

Marvin Floyd. He was the son of the barber who cut my hair. I had jerked my peter so many nights thinking about him coming to get me on a white horse and taking me away to live . . . That was usually as far as I got. Marvin was white skinned, with jet black curly hair and blue eyes. He was beautiful. I had been afraid of barbers after old man Thompson, who was a drunk, cut my ear. He had those awful chrome-plated shears that would catch your hair and pull it. I put up such a fight that I was only made to get a hair cut next when I started first grade. Then when Marvin's father opened his shop, my father started taking me there to get a haircut.

After he saw me crying the first time, Marvin had told me that it was okay and that he would not let his father hurt me. I believed him. He must have been twelve or thirteen then. From that time on I wanted to go get a hair cut every week so that I could see Marvin. We did not talk and as he got older he was in the shop less and less. Finally, about the only time that I saw him was when the bus picked up kids at the high school. He would be standing around talking to some of his friends that lived in the country. He liked having his cock sucked. Wow. I am processing all this while Bobby is still talking. He is sitting in the back seat naked. Randy is playing with Bobby's peter again.

When I noticed that Bobby was getting hard again, I said, "Hey, hold on there. The second time, I get to do it." I rolled over the back of the car seat and onto Bobby's lap. "Get up front and watch," I told Randy. I mean we were not very big. Randy just jetted right back over the back of the front seat and into the driver's seat.

"All's clear."

I had not even waited for him to check things out. I was down on Bobby with his cock in my mouth.

"Wow. You guys are really serious cock suckers aren't you?" he asked me.

" I guess you could say that. It's the first time anyone called me a cock sucker . . ."

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ." Bobby was apologizing.

"Don't worry about it. If a guy sucks cock and likes it, I guess you have to call him something. Cock sucker is what he is, I guess. Naw. The word does not bother me. I guess it would if I did not suck cock." This was getting really serious about who I was, especially for an eight year old, who would soon be nine. I looked up from where my head was lying in Bobby's lap and grinned really big at him.

"You know you guys are really okay. I like both of you. Do you think we can get together again sometime?"

"What? You're not gonna let me finish?" I was really getting pissed off then, since Randy had gotten a load of cum from Spencer earlier and now from Bobby, and I had gotten nothing.

"No. I'm gonna get off again unless Spencer comes out here. I was just wondering how we could work out some way for the three of us to get together again. I mean with you guys being so young and everything."

I knew what he meant. It was like this was one of those rare times when age really did not matter. We loved sex. We were all cock suckers. Then there was the problem of his being 14 and we were only 9. Well, Randy was already nine and a week and I would be in a couple of weeks. I told him to give us his phone number and we would call him when we knew we were coming into town. Maybe we could meet up that way. I could slip out and call him from the phone in the barn. If my parents caught on, though, they would want to know who he was. Already we were learning to sneak around. At least I was. I sucked Bobby until he came. He did the arch thing again. I loved making him cum. He thanked us both. Wrote his phone number on a piece of paper for both of us. After he got his clothes on, he crawled over the seat just like one of us and sat between the two of us with an arm around each of our shoulders. He kissed me and then kissed Randy.

"You guys are great. Remember one thing. Take care of each other. No matter what happens later. You may go totally different directions. You were each other's first suck buddy and you owe the other a lot. I mean a lot." He then slid over Randy's lap and out the door.

Author's note: Hey, guys, I hope you are enjoying this story more than I am. The pain it is putting me through. The one you just read was the fourth rewrite. I turned it in and still got bitched out. John Rice said that I was still not sticking to one subject, jumping back and forth with my time sequence too much and still not following from one thing to the next. He said that I have two stories here. The birthday party, and the sleep over. Hey, I thought that just sticking to telling about Randy was sticking to one point. Oh, well, back to the old drawing board. I guess I will break it up and rewrite it one more time. Don't worry. You have already read it. I won't bore you by sending the two new stories in. CC

Thanks to Peiter for his excellent job in editing this material.