From: an164453@anon.penet.fi (Hugger)
Reply-To: an164453@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 10 Oct 1995 01:58:50 UTC
Subject: Alex's Fun (ws,b/b) 

FOREWORD: Although a work of fiction, this story is based altogether on 
actual events, either in my own life or of some little boys I have known 
over the years.

                         ALEX'S FUN (Part 1)

Little Alexander started out life like any other little male child.  He 
was born in a hospital to a loving mom and dad -- an only and much-wanted 
child.  The birth was easy with no complications.  Alexander came into 
the world with the usual baby-cry.  The physician held him up by the legs 
to give the proverbial swat on the back, and as he did so, Alexander 
greeted him by jetting a stream of warm pee directly onto the doctor's 
face and uniform. The good doctor remarked, "Well, we know he has good 
kidneys!" And so he did.
Alexander possessed the usual equipment, including a sassy little boy-penis, 
which looked exactly like a tiny flower with a red bud opening at the 
end.  The doctor pulled back the tiny foreskin and proclaimed, "Perfect! 
No need to circumcise this one; he's in good shape as he is!"

And so Alexander went home with his doting parents to  a lovely home with 
a cute little-boy room all his own, his own little crib, and his own cute 
toys.  His name was soon shortened to "Alex" or as his dad sometimes 
called him, "Little A."  All was happy.  Alex spent his early days 
learning to roll over, then raise up on his hands, then to crawl, and all 
this time he also regularly peed and pooped in his little diapers, which 
Mommy happily changed; and as she did, she said, "Well, Alex, did we do a 
big wee-wee this time?" To which Alex gurgled and giggled as his Mom 
pealed off the wet or dirty diaper and replaced it with a clean one. And 
Alex loved it.  In his baby way he enjoyed the feeling of the warm pee 
surrounding his tiny bottom.

Alex loved his bath time.  Mommy talked to him in sweet tones and washed 
his little chubby boy body with a nice soft washcloth.  Alex loved it 
when Mommy reached down and pulled back his tiny foreskin from over his 
little rosebud and gently washed his pricklet. "So it will smell good," 
she told him.  Alex giggled and gurgled, and often after Mommy had done 
this and pulled his tiny foreskin back up, Alex would gleefully do a 
pee-pee into his bathwater.   And he loved it.

In another couple of years, Alex had grown in many ways.  He could walk, 
run, and talk, although his talking was sometimes a bit gibberish.  And 
since he was now nearly three, he no longer did poopers in his little 
pants. Diapers were a thing of the past, although at times little Alex 
missed the warm wetness he remembered. But now Mommy and Daddy set him on 
his tiny little potty and whenever he did something into the potty, they 
exclaimed with glee, "Good boy, Alex!  Look at Alex's nice pee-pee!" And 
Alex was proud of his poo-poo and his pee-pee.  He sometimes could stand 
up and aim his little worm at the potty and make pee-pee into the potty 
just like he saw Daddy do in the big potty.

So Little A was now becoming a "big boy."  But he missed something 
pleasant he remembered from his babyhood.

He did not remember it until one weekend when the family took him to 
visit his grandparents' house.  Grandma and Granddad lived in a big house 
in a small town.  The house was one in which Alex's Mommy had lived when 
she was a little girl. It had big rooms, high ceilings, and above all 
else, a beautiful hardwood floor.  Grandma and Grandpa spent a lot of 
time keeping their house nice and clean, and just this year they had  
sanded and re-finished all of those beautiful floors.  Alex found it was 
fun to toddle around the house from one room to another.  He had a good 
time exploring, while Mommy and Daddy visited with Grandma and Grandpa.  

Time passed, and the adults forgot to keep an eye on little Alex. As the 
minutes and hours went by, Little Alex realized that he needed to 
pee-pee. But no one was talking to him or looking his way.  Suddenly, the 
parents' conversation was interrupted by a familiar sound -- a spattering 
staccato noise.  One look told all. There stood little Alex in the 
doorway of the room, doing his pee-pee in his little shorts, all down his 
little knobby legs, into his little-boy shoes and socks -- and Mommy 
exclaimed, "Oh, little A! Shame on you!  All over Grandma's beautiful 
hardwood floor!"  The puddle grew until it surrounded little A's tiny 
shoes and began to run across the hardwood.

In an instant, Mommy was on her hands and knees pulling little A's tiny 
pants and underpants off over his shoes and socks, leaving him with his 
tiny beautiful rosebud still dripping and showing for all to see.  As 
Grandma came in with several towels, she said, "Never mind, dear; it'll 
clean up. I remember when YOU were little and had little  accidents 
all over this house!"  That made Mommy feel better.  As for Little Alex, 
he remembered what he loved so much -- that wonderful feeling of his pee 
making his little bottom and legs feel so warm, cozy and comfortable, and 
he loved it!

And so it was that night, as Mommy and Daddy and Alexander returned to 
their own home, after driving long after dark, Alex lay quietly in the 
back seat of the car contented, happy, and with a fond memory of that 
pleasant feeling he had re-discovered that day at Grandma and Granddad's 
house.  He remembered exactly where that good feeling came from, so as 
the car buzzed down the highway toward home, Little A's hand came to rest 
inside his tiny pants, caressing and stroking his tiny little penis.  It 
felt so good..... so very good.  And Alex slept.


                            ALEX'S FUN (Part 2)

For the most part, Alex was a well-trained little boy.  By age four, he 
rarely ever had an accident.  He recognized those times when his little 
bladder felt full -- a sort of dull ache underneath is tummy, and when 
this happened, he knew it was time to make a little river.  If he was 
inside, he knew to hurry to the bathroom, pull down his pants and 
underpants and aim the little yellow stream into the big potty. (He now 
had graduated to the potty his Mommy and Daddy used. He was proud.) He 
was tall enough now to where he could aim his little red-tipped thingy 
and make his pee go where he wanted it to -- at least most of the time. 
Sometimes his pee came out as a sort of stream, other times almost as a 
spray. When this happened, little A sometimes left a little mess on the 
side of the bowl and rarely a tiny puddle on the bathroom floor. But not 
often.  When he was outside, Alex knew it was all right to do his pee-pee 
in the grass behind the house or against the garage wall.  Once he pissed 
on the concrete driveway out by the street, but a neighbor girl who was 
very old (maybe 7 or 8 years old) saw him and called him "nasty." So he 
did not do that again.

At nights, he would sometimes awaken with the full-bladder feeling, and 
he would call out, "Da-da."  Daddy would come into the darkened bedroom 
with a tiny potty with teddy-bears painted around the side.  Little A 
would sleepily stand up in his crib, pull down his pajamas and do his 
pee-pee into the potty which Daddy held for him.  Alex loved the music 
his pee made as it sang its way into the potty -- a high-pitched sound 
that got lower and lower as he emptied his little body and filled the 
vessel being held for him. They Daddy would kiss Alex, tuck him back in 
bed, and say,"There, buddy, now you can sleep through till morning." And 
Alex loved it.

One night as Alex was almost five, he felt the urge to make night-waters. 
In his sleepy little mind, he called out, "Da-da," and Daddy came with 
the the little potty with the teddy bears painted around the side, and 
Alex pee-peed and pee-peed till he felt empty.  But this time he did not 
hear the singing sound.  A moment or two later, he awakened to find that 
Da-da has NOT come with the potty, that he had NOT stood up to let the 
water out of his little fountain, and that, in fact, he had pee-peed in 
his little pajamas and his bed.  He was now very wet from his toes up to 
his tummy.  At first he was very startled that he had made a 
Night-Time-Mistake.  But then, he realized that it felt cozy, warm, wet 
and very good.  He enjoyed the comfortable feeling his little uncut peter 
had made for him, and he turned over on his side with his hands inside 
his pajamas, and giving his little boy-thing a gentle tug, he sailed off 
to sleep again.  And Alex loved it!

Alex continued to grow, as all little boys do.  In what seemed like no 
time at all, he was ready to go to school.  His Mommy and Daddy were so 
proud of him.   He had a nice teacher in Kindergarten who let them have 
snacks, taught them to read their letters, played games with them, and 
very often took them to the bathroom where all the little boys went into 
one room and all the little girls into another. And there there were 
several potties and one long strange thing that looked like a small 
bathtub, and all the little boys stood in front of it, took out their 
little boy-pricks and all pee-peed at one time into the funny bathtub. 
Alex loved this part of the day the best.  He liked to see all the little 
boys' pee-pees.  Some were just like his, but some of them looked like 
his did when he pulled back his tiny foreskin to wash the Inside of his. 
But all the boys did what they were supposed to and then went back to 
class. And Alex loved it.

One day their teacher was absent. Someone said she was sick. So they had 
a substitute teacher. She was an older lady, sorta like Grandma, but not 
nearly so nice.  She told the boys and girls that they must stay in 
their seats and mind her, and that anyone who disobeyed would be sent to 
the office at once.  She looked cross, and if anyone spoke out, she said, 
"Quiet!!" and banged her ruler on the desk.  No one dared speak out again 
after she did that.

Alex was nervous.  He did not like to see things go badly.  He did not 
like messy situations. And so he was very, very unhappy when the little 
boy Herman who sat right next to him, raised his hand to tell the  
teacher that the chocolate milk and cookies he had for lunch were not 
agreeing with him and wanted to come back up, and the teacher told Herman 
to put his hand down and be quiet or he would go to the office.  So in a 
few minutes, Herman let out a loud belch and vomited his chocolate milk 
and cookies all over his desk, his work papers, and the floor right next 
to where Alex sat.  Alex did not like that at all.  And the janitor had 
to come and do a big cleanup job.  And Herman did go to the office, to 
call his parents to come and get him.

The next day Herman was absent, and Alex was very nervous, because the 
same crabby substitute teacher was there.  At lunchtime, Alex had drunk 
his milk and had two quick drinks from the water foundtain.  By 1:00, 
Alex was beginning to feel the Full Bladder syndrome.  He knew it meant 
he needed to pee-pee. He raised his hand during the time in the Reading 
Circle, but the crabby teacher said, "Quiet!" and so Alex was quiet.  He 
began to wiggle and fidget in his little chair, because his tiny bladder 
was becoming very uncomfortable, and his little penis was beginining to 
stand up in his shorts as it sometimes did when he needed to empty it. 
The reading lesson went on and on.  Alex began to wish he could vomit 
like Herman had done the day before; for while it was messy and smelled 
up the whole room, at least it got Herman out of class.

It was not long, however, until no amount of wishing would do any good. 
Alex looked beneath his reader (which he had in his lap) and saw to his 
dismay that his little thingy was beginning to make a little wet patch on 
his pants.  The more he squirmed and wiggled, the bigger the patch 
became.  Then with no warning at all, the dam burst.  Little A's pants 
and lap and chair were immediately flooded with what seemed like gallons 
of warm, wet yellow piss, which overflowed his seat and ran down his legs 
and onto the floor. A couple of girls gasped and giggled, and one bigger 
boy said, "Look, teacher, Alex is pissing his pants!!"  Everyone in the 
room began to laugh, and the substitute teacher was very embarrassed. She 
sent Alex to the office to call home for dry pants, and she sent for the 
janitor to come with his bucket and mop and clean up the puddle Alex had 
left on the floor.

As Alex sat in the principal's office in his wet pants, he was somewhat 
embarrassed himself.  But at night, when he was at home and had time to 
think back on it, he thought, "Ha, serves that old teacher right!  That 
was fun!" And he remembered the feeling of pulling off his wet shorts in 
the teacher's lounge in the office, putting on his dry pants, and before 
returning to class, thinking how nice and warm that pee felt coming out 
of him in the classroom.  And that night in bed, rather than calling for 
Da-da or getting up and trotting to the bathroom, little Alex relaxed his 
muscles, took a deep breath, and for the first time in a long time, 
allowed himself the luxurious feeling of peeing all over himself and the 
bed. He put his hand on his penis and felt the little river flow out of 
his body and onto the sheets and blanket.  And Alex moaned with pleasure 
at the Fun Thing he was doing. And his little boy-cock became very hard, 
and Alex pulled up and down a few times on his foreskin and enjoyed the 
feeling before he surrendered to beautiful sleep.


                         ALEX'S FUN  (Part 3)

Little Alex was not so little by this time.  He was eight years old.  He 
had made several interesting discoveries in the past year or so.  One was 
that his little night-time accidents in bed were not embarrassing any 
longer, but were a source of great fun.  Mother had long since decided it 
was a problem that he would outgrow, that the tensions of school and 
growing up were causing him to be nervous and causing his wetting. She 
took him to the doctor, who set him on a table, pulled down his pants, 
and looked long at hard at Alex's penis.  The doctor retracted the 
forskin a time or two and decided there was no problem.  He took a urine 
sample (Alex loved peeing into the tiny bottle) and from that analysis 
decided that nothing was physically wrong.

And so, about once a week, usually on a Friday night, Alex would allow 
himself to have a "bedtime accident."  He would drink an extra glass of 
water before going to bed, they lie awake until the Bladder feeling came 
upon him. Then he would tentatively let a few drops come out into his 
hand (which he put inside his pajamas). Then as he became used to the 
idea that it was all right, he would let nature take its course. His piss 
would gush out with so much vigor that Alex could hear the sillibant hiss 
as it passed out his foreskin and onto his pajamas.  He would feel it 
spread around his bottom, then his legs and halfway up his back.  
Sometimes he would wad up his blanket and stuff it between his legs and 
let his pee flow into the blanket.  Alex did not like the smell of strong 
urine, so if he drank lots of water it usually was diluted enough to 
where there was no problem.  

Following these little episodes, Alex would gently pull up and down on 
his foreskin.   He had made the additional discovery that this felt very 
pleasant.  But this was all.   He would usually fall asleep while 
fondling himself.  On occasions, he would not wait for the Bladder 
buildup but would go to sleep, then while half-awake-half asleep, he 
would deliberately release his stream.  If he was sleeping on his back, 
he would move his little penis so that it was pointing upward in his 
pajamas and let the warm river soothe his stomach and chest.  Once or 
twice he squirted up as far as his chin and got a slight taste of his own 
boy-lemonade.  And he loved it.

Aside from his bedtime fun, Alex would play piss-games with other boys, 
whom he discovered also enjoyed this diversion -- at least some of them.  
At school, the boys would sometimes deliberately pee on the floor of the 
bathroom because it was fun to hear the splattering noise and see the 
river run across the tile.  But after a warning from the principal that 
this was very naughty and would cause a boy much trouble if caught, the 
floor-peeing game ceased.  One day, during the summer, Alex and some boys 
were playing ball in the deserted schoolyard. At one point, one of the 
boys said, "I need to take a leak, I am going home."  Alex said, "Why do 
that? I need to go, too, just come over here."  Whereupon, the boys all 
went over to the outside stairwell which led up to the second floor of 
the school. They stood there at the stairs and all let their golden 
rivers mingle together and make one gigantic flood.  "Ha, ha, what if our 
principal could see this now?  Maybe he'd walk in it and slip up on his 
face!" they laughed.

But these were intentional games.  Alex really had good control when he 
wanted to have it. Except that one time!  The time his Dad took him to 
the movies to see "Snow White."

Now Alex had seen scary movies before.  The family did not watch X-Rated 
things on TV, and of course what they did watch had to be acceptable.  So 
Dad though it would be great fun for a boy-man trip to the movies.  Alex 
was seven-almost-eight, and Dad thought this movie, being a Disney 
classic, should be fine.

Alex endured the movie almost all the way through.  As Snow White ran 
through the forest in terror with the memory of the hunter's knife 
haunting her, Alex sat still.  As the dwarfs hammed it up with Snow White 
and danced the night away, Alex grinned and laughed. As the wicked queen 
plotted the poisoning of Snow White,  little A began to get nervous.  He 
abandoned his seat and moved over and sat on Daddy's knee. Dad put his 
arms around Alex and hugged him close as the queen made her trip through 
the woods, gained access to the house and poisoned poor Snow White.

By now, Alex was goggle-eyed.  He gasped for breath as the dwarfs raced 
home to try to save Snow White.  He panted as the chase began and the 
dwarfs cornered the wicked queen on a mountaintop.  Alex's now-full 
bladder went un-noticed as the queen fell to a horrible death.  And then, 
as the dwarfs shed their tears for their dear departed Snow White, Alex, 
too, made water.  Right out of his little shorts, right onto Daddy's lap, 
and right on to the upholstered theater seat, right down onto the sloping 
floor, Alex noisily and unconsciously emptied his bladder till not a drop 
was left within him.  When the movie was over and the houselights came 
up, many people dabbed at their eyes with handkerchieves.  Alex and Daddy 
dabbed at their pants and legs with a hankie and some  Kleenex.  Straight 
home they went, where Dad and little A shed their soaked, smelly pants 
and undergarments, threw them in the washer, and vowed never to tell 
Mommy or anyone else about their Wet Time.  And Alex grinned, for he 
loved it!


                        ALEX'S FUN (Part 4)

By this time, Alex was growing up in earnest.  No longer was he a tiny 
little baby-kind nor even a spindly little-boy kind.  He was now ten 
years old, sandy-haired, fair-complected, with a twinkling-eye facial 
expression, captivating blue eyes, arms and legs which showed fine lines 
and strength, and when clad only in a bathing suit or his underpants, a 
precious little bundle in front.  If one could have peeked inside the 
pouch, they would have discovered a thinnish but handsome boy-cock, 
slightly long but not obsessively so, with a beautiful, blue-veined 
foreskin, the tip of which adequately covered the purplish head within, 
and culminated in that same rosebud tip.

Alex was proud of himself; he had a happy life, a good home, many 
friends, was happy at school, and above all else, he no longer had 
accidents.  He was aware that his penis was under his control now; he 
could hold his pee for hours on end and could piss with the fortitude of 
a horse, sending his boy-stream five or six feet in front of him if he 
desired.  On rare occasions when he felt unusually raunchy for some 
unknown reason, he would sequester himself in his bedroom -- usually when 
his parents were away -- strip himself down naked, and revert to his 
childhood pleasure of self-pissing.  He would lie on the bed, point his 
boy-stick up in the air, and at his will, pee either onto his abdomen, 
down onto his legs, curve his penis and wet his buttocks, or turn over 
and pee for all his might onto the bed sheets and pad.  Since his parents 
had always kept a rubber pad on the bed, there was no danger of a ruined 
mattress or even discovery, for he always rushed the wet linens off to 
the washer before they were seen.  

At some point he had seen on TV the movie, "The Loneliest Runner," a 
story starring Lance Kerwin as a teenager who still pissed his bed and 
later on became an Olympic racing star.  For Alex, it was fun to think of 
himself as a winner as he merrily peed in his pad and then rushed off the 
the laundry room with his trophy.

Even at ten, Alex had not discovered masturbation.  On rare occasions he 
heard boys talked about "jacking off," but he had never taken the trouble 
to inquire what it meant.  At age 10, boys are not altogether obsessed 
with this practice.  Alex did know, as he had always known, that he was 
glad to have that little envelope of skin on his penis, that when he 
pulled it up and down, it felt good; that if he pulled it all the way 
back and fondled his glans underneath, that felt luxurious as well; that 
the cheesy odor to be found there was somewhat exciting; and yet he had 
never at this age explored further.  But he continued his occasional 
pissing play activities in bed, and when in an unusually silly mood, 
would sometimes pee in his shorts outdoors, just for the fun of it.

Now it was summer again.  Alex would be in the fifth grade this fall. 
Summer was a time for fun -- fun with ones best friends.  Alex had many 
friends, but his favorite was Herman -- the little boy he had gone 
through grade school knowing -- the funny, wrinkle-nosed little short guy 
with dark hair that rarely seemed to be combed -- with clothes that 
always smelled a bit musty and looked as though they had never been 
washed -- an almost sour smell.  But in a way he could not explain, Alex 
loved Herman.  Herman was the little boy who years ago had vomited all 
over the classroom, nearly inundating Alex at his seat.  Alex had always 
felt a bit sorry for and protective of Herman since that one episode when 
Herman was so vulnerable to the teasing of his classmates.

Now, as summer was reaching its climax, Herman and Alex were bumming 
around together.  Suddenly, Alex was inspired: "Herman, would your 
parents let you spend the night at my house? I'd really like to have you 
stay over."  Herman mumbled, "Well, er, maybe, I dunno-- I've never slept 
away from home before."  "Go ask your Mom, please, please!" begged Alex. 
And with that, Herman and Alex headed off to Herman's house -- a rather 
run-down looking place with junk all over the yard and several other 
little Herman-types running around outside.  Herman vanished into the 
house, and a long time later, came out and declared, "Mom says I can come 
over, but be sure to tell me to go to the bathroom before we go to bed."  
Alex was overjoyed and did not even consider that final request.  "Well, 
go get your pajamas," he said. Herman blushed. "Sorry, I - - I don't got 
none. I sleep naked, or in my clothes if it's cold." Alex was a bit 
surprised that ANY child would not have pajamas, but he was not unhappy. 
"Well, no problem: you can borrow some of my underwear!"  Off they went.

The evening passed with the boys playing outside after supper, rolling 
and wrestling around in the grass, hugging in a boyish way, throwing a 
ball -- all the joyous boyhood activities.

Soon enough it was time for bed.  As always, Alex showered and invited 
Herman to come into the shower stall with him. Herman had never had a 
shower before: "We usually just take a bath on Saturdays, once we have 
the tub filled up, all us kids take turns in the same water."  No end of 
surprises.  As they showered togther, Alex's curiosity knew no bounds. 
This little guy, a good three inches shorter than he -- yet sturdy of leg 
and arm -- scratches and old scars all over him, probably from rough 
playing as a kid.  And Herman had a penis just like Alex's -- about the 
same size, and like Alex, it had a beautiful skin over the head.  Neither 
boy commented on this similarity as they washed, and Alex was quick to 
notice that Herman did not peal his skin back to wash the little purple 
head underneath, as he himself has always done all his life.  He just 
left it as it was, and Alex was not sure but he thought he could detect a 
faint boy-cock small eminating from it.

Soon in bed, the boys began to play-wrestle, rolling around on the 
sheets, laughing, giggling, until Mother knocked on the door and said, 
"OK, enough noise!  Now you boys go to sleep."  Conversation trickled off 
to a whisper and almost subsided altogether.

Then, Herman took Alex by total surprise. He leaned over and whispered, 
"Uh, Alex, I gotta tell you, I have a problem.  Every night nearly, I pee 
in my bed.  I'm sorry, I can't help it, it just happens." Alex's reaction 
was one of surprise: "What does your Mom say?" "Nothin," replied Alex.  I 
sleep with two of my brothers, and the bed's wet nearly every night and 
she never knows which one of us guys pissed.  But I'd be mighty sorry to 
pee in your underwear and in your pretty bed."

Alex's response was to gasp slightly at this fortuitous circumstance. 
Here he was with his best pal, who obviously wet the bed, and he himself 
loved to do this --- "Don't worry, pal, whatever happens, I'm glad you're 
here with me."  The two boys relaxed and in a short time both were sound 
asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Alex roused from his sleep with a 
full bladder.  It was Friday night, the night he often set aside for Wet 
Pleasures. But here he was with his best pal sleeping right next to him.  
What to do?  As he pondered this, Herman groaned, muttered in his sleep, 
and turned over on his right side to that he was facing, and right up 
against, Alex who was on his left side.  Alex's heart pounded.

In only a moment or two, Alex felt something wonderfully warm and wet. 
First a tiny spot, it grew and grew as Alex lay there breathlessly, as 
his pal peed and peed in his underpants, and all over the two of them 
cuddled together.  Herman moaned and poured out more of his golden fluid 
until the middle of the bed and both boys were quite saturated.

Then with another moan, this one of anguish, Herman roused.  "O my God, 
Alex, I just pissed your bed!  O damn, I'm sorry!" and Herman broke into 
silent shaking sobs.  Alex was prepared for this.  He had thought what he 
would say if, indeed Herman had a wet accident.  He put his arm around 
Herman in a loving embrace, and said, "Don't worry, pal, it's OK!! I'll 
tell you something:  I do it too sometimes. That's why we have a rubber 
mattress pad!"

Herman brightened, stopped sniffling, and said, "Really? Then you know 
what it's like.  Gosh, I thought I was the only boy in the world who peed 
in his bed."  The two hugged in real joy at this revelation.

Alex responded, "Hey, I'll tell you something else.  I've been lying here 
needing to pee for a long time! It's cold outside, and I'm already wet, 
so would you mind if I peed here too? Just on both of us?"  "Sure, it's 
OK, buddy!"  said Herman.  I don't mind feeling your pee if you don't 
mind feeling mine. It's almost like we wuz blood brothers, except we're 
piss brothers!"  Whereupon with on further word, Alex grabbed Herman even 
tighter in a mutual embrace, pressing their boy-cocks together through 
the fabric of their  clothing, and O so silently, allowed his boy-pee to 
flood out on the two of them, the two juices mingling as the boys lay 
together in silent ecstasy.   Herman, to show his allegiance, gave a 
little push and produced another half-pint of his own sacred urine in 
honor of this unusual bonding.

When the last drop was out, the boys silently denuded each other -- Alex 
quietly pulled down Herman's borrowed jockey shorts, and Herman slipped 
Alex's pajama shorts down below his knobby knees. The two of them then 
each felt totally welcome to explore with hands the private Sanctuaries 
of each other -- as they retracted each others' foreskins and placed 
their penis heads together, then rolling their skins back in a boyish 
docking.  Neither had ever done this before nor heard of it.  It came as 
naturally to both of them as did the mutual hugging.  And to the surprise 
of both, they discovered that something new had been added -- a slippery, 
cream-like substance that oozed from their genitals so closely 
compressed, until it seemed a part of both of them.  

And there they lay the rest of the night in a wet, close, endearing 
embrace, each enjoying the just-discovered sexuality of himself and the 
other one.  The bonding would last for a long time between these two.

Herman was the first to speak:" Oh....this feels so good, and I love you 
so much, Alex."   "Same with me, the way I feel about you, buddy," 
responded Alex.

THE END

POST SCRIPT
About 99% of the story of ALEX'S FUN is true, much of it based on 
childhood memories of my own, or from experiences of boys I have known.  

E-Mail me if you do or don't like the pre-teen homoerotic nature of this 
tale, and I might add some chapters.  Flames will be ignored, and 
incidentally, I am a married man and a former schoolteacher, so I am not 
into this as a lifestyle; but it is a delicious part of many people's past.

"Hugger"



                         ALEX'S FUN (Part 5)

This is a continuation of the Alex stories. It contains ws and b/b/b 
experiences.  While this is a work of fiction, it is based on true life 
happenings from various individuals, including the writer.

                       -------------------------
Our "little boy" Alex had his eleventh birthday in April.  He was still 
the delight of his parents and all the adults who knew him.  He was a 
perfect little gentleman, so polite, a good student, a handsome lad, all 
those wonderful superlatives that apply to some fortunate male children. 
Always a blond, Alex still had those beautiful, penetrating blue eyes, a 
few freckles on his pug nose, an adorable grin which melted the hearts of 
all those around him, especially his relatives.

At age 11, Alex still had not entered into puberty. His beautifully 
shaped legs were almost hairless in their smoothness: one could find a 
few blond hairs if they had looked closely.  Alex still liked to wear 
shorts whenever the weather permitted -- and this was about eight months 
out of the year. His shorts came about five inches above his shapely 
little knees; from the back, his sassy little knee-bend lines were 
deliciously visible, as well as the muscles above them.  His feet had not 
as yet expanded as with adolescents, but were graceful and well-shaped.  
His penis had not one hair; the beautiful three-inch organ still 
maintained its rosy-colored covering, and his perfect young egg-shaped 
testicles suspended deliciously below it.  He was, in fact, a 
breathtakingly beautiful boy, but in a handsome way -- nothing effeminite 
about him.

The side of Alex which few adults saw was the penchant for 
mischieviousness and a delight with the sensuous joys he had discovered 
in his growing-up years.  Alex had always enjoyed the pleasures of 
urination and the delightful sensations it produced.  Especially so did 
Alex continue to relish his hobby of indiscriminate peeing.  As a little 
boy, Alex always loved the sensations of wetness which could be achieved 
by peeing in illogical places and at illogical times.  Now there was 
something extra-delightful about this which Alex could not explain, even 
to himself.  But he knew that his penis and bladder could be a source of 
expression of many emotions.

On one occasion, Alex had been scolded by a teacher for turning in an 
assignment on the wrong color of paper.  Now, that seemed grossly unfair 
to Alex.  He did not argue with the teacher or pout in class.  But he 
knew that Miss Coleridge kept her fur coat in the cloakroom next to her 
desk. So after the class had gone to lunch, Alex begged to be allowed to 
go to the restroom; instead, he sneaked into the classroom and the 
private cloak closet and blissfully peed into the pocket of his teacher's 
fur coat, plus a little on the floor, plus a little more in her overshoes.

Another time, Alex decided to play a joke on another student.  This boy, 
whose name was Claude, was a bit of a bully, somewhat bigger than Alex, 
and one who always looked a bit grungy, as if he had not bathed for a 
long time. He was always scratching his butt in class, letting farts when 
the teacher's back was turned, and generally being annoying.  So to get 
even, Alex fashioned a little cup out of a piece of notebook paper -- 
pleating the sides and stapling them together, so that they formed a sort 
of little Dixie Cup -- the kind found in dispensers.  Into this little 
cup, Alex pissed.  All of this was done right in the classroom, with 
other children present; but Alex was quiet, Alex was sly, Alex was quick. 
When Claude's row went to the chalkboard to do Math, Alex reached over 
and slipped the cup into Claude's desk, setting it right on the edge.  
When Claude returned, he reached into the desk to retrieve his work and 
was immediately cascaded with a cup of pee!  He let out a yowl, but since 
no one could prove anything, Alex was not suspected, and Claude had to 
sit there with wet pants all morning.

So Alex still enjoyed such diversions, even more so; and he could not 
explain why.  Except that after he would do something strange like that 
with his little prick, he would get very excited and his little member 
would stand upright in his pants and feel very funny. Very funny indeed. 

Alex's devotion for his best friend Herman was unabated.  Since they had 
slept together at his house early in that summer and experienced the 
joys of mutual bed-wetting and touching, they were bonded.  They always 
played together -- and it was good, for Herman was still the little "runt 
of the class" -- the poor boy from the bad street with the run-down old 
house and the careless parents who let him come to school in cast-off 
clothes, and sometimes without any underpants.  Herman explained this 
once to the school nurse when it was time for physical exams. "We just 
have one pair of underpants at home," Herman said. "And it's Jody's turn 
to wear them today."  The nurse could hardly contain her tears when 
Herman said that, but she told the other teachers, and soon there was a 
collection taken up to help poor Herman with some things like underpants 
and socks.

Anyway, Herman and Alex spent a lot of time together.  They played ball, 
told stories, climbed trees, and sometimes did naughty little-boy things. 
One day Alex dared Herman to pee in his pants right out in their back 
yard. He said, "I dare ya to do it, but if you do, so will I."  Herman 
giggled, strained, and let his golden stream out into his grubby pants. 
Alex then laughed out loud and, spreading his beautiful boy-legs far 
apart, he jettisoned his urine down his crotch and legs and onto the 
grass. Another time when the two were sleeping over at Alex's on a Friday 
night, at shower time, Herman said he would like Alex to pee on him. 
"Why?" asked Alex. "Just cause I love to feel your water on me, 
especially on my tummy and legs."  And because Alex loved to piss in 
strange places and at unusual times, he aimed his gorgeous little 
instrument up toward Herman while they were preparing to shower together 
and gave him a soaking.  Herman returned the favor by spewing his juice 
onto Alex.  The boys had learned a trick: if one pinches the foreskin and 
pees into it, it is possible then to release the collected liquid with a 
gush which can spurt very high and make a very large area wet. So this is 
the kind of foolish boy-play that Alex and Herman did when they felt in a 
horny mood -- although they did not identify the feeling as sexual.

That summer, most of the boys in the community headed to the source of 
all fun and frivolity, the Boys'Club camp in the country.  Actually, it 
was given a corny Indian-style name like most boy's camps. This one was 
Camp Manipee on beautiful Lake Takaleak.  Alex went.  Herman went 
(because some good soul, namely Alex's parents, sponsored him 
anonymously,) and - to the dismay of all -- Claude went, too.

No one was eager to have Claude in the cabin. Claude had a loud voice, he 
left his bunk in a mess, he let loud farts all night, and always 
punctuated that with a loud, "Har, har, har" which somewhat amused the 
slightly younger boys, but also annoyed them since Claude's farts smelled 
up the whole cabin. But as fate had it,  Alex, Herman and Claude were al 
assigned to the Aztec Cabin with their leader Buz.

 The cabin leader was just a high school kid who spent most of his spare time listening to his little 
radio,  talking about his girlfriend, and when he thought the boys were 
not watching -- beating his meat up on his top bunk in the corner.  Of 
course all the boys knew that Buz was up to some kind of mischief.  A 
couple of the older boys, including Claude, said things like, "Ol' Buz 
likes to pound his monkey, har,har,har..." 

And Alex was curious.  Being around all this boy-meat did something to 
Alex that summer.  He could not explain it, but he felt he was changing 
in some way.  He became very anxious to know more about the Mysterious 
Thing that boys did to themselves sometimes at night when they were 
supposed to be sleeping.  He lay awake the first few nights and wondered 
why several of the double-deck bunks in the cabin squeaked rhythmicaly 
when Lights Out had sounded.  He wondered about Claude, who grunted and 
groaned in his bed, and he worried about little Herman, who slept on the 
top bunk over his own.

The first night at camp, Herman awoke whimpering.  He had once again wet 
his bed, this time in a strange place with strange people.  Alex got up, 
stood up to Herman's head, and whispered, "That's OK, Buddy, I 
understand. Come on down and sleep with me." And so that night, Herman 
and Alex quietly lay together and slept.  And they did not piss their 
bunk, since there was no way to change the bedding at camp.

Alex had a haunting desire to know more about the slob Claude.  Claude 
did things during the night; Alex wondered if Claude, also, peed in his 
bed.  Twice, in the morning, Alex noticed a wadded up pair of underpants 
under Claude's bunk.  Alex had to know.  When all the campers were out 
one morning,  Alex picked up a pair of Claude's underpants and examined 
them closely.  There were brown streaks across the back, as Alex would 
have guessed -- Claude probably wiped himself with his fist, Alex thought 
wryly. But there was something more -- a sticky, white substance 
partially dry, which smelled somewhat like the laundry bleach Alex's 
mother used at home.  

Something about this excited Alex in a way he had never been excited 
before.  He sat on his bunk sniffing Claude's underpants and getting a 
very hard penis in his shorts.  Suddenly the cabin door burst open, and 
in strode Claude!  Alex gasped.  Claude took one look at Alex and 
snarled, "Well, ALL RIGHT, cock-sucker-- you love to sniff my cum, do 
you? Well, I'll just teach you a lesson now..get off that bed and follow 
me." So saying, he dragged poor Alex out the cabin door and marched him 
down a wooded trail away from the cabins.  Deep into the woods they went, 
and then Claude stopped and commanded, "Take off all your clothes except 
your underwear, you shithead. I'll show YOU something." So saying, he 
grabbed Alex's shirt and ripped it over his head, then pulled his shorts 
down to Alex's ankles.  Then Claude did something unbelievable -- he tore 
off all his own clothes except his underpants.  He shoved Alex onto the 
ground and onto his back.  Then Claude sat on Alex, right in the middle 
of his groin --- and Claude peed and peed and peed in his underpants all 
over Alex.  Alex could not believe what he saw -- Claude's piss flooding 
his own body and running all over Alex himself from his neck to his 
genital region.  Then Claude began to hunker up and down on Alex, getting 
more excited the longer he did it.  Claude began to groan and pant, and 
then all of a sudden, he thrust his own large circumcised penis in his 
own underclothes and ejaculated.  Four energetic spurts of Claude's semen 
filled his underwear and seeped out onto Alex, who by this time, was 
panting and gasping for air.  

Alex realized that something tremendous was happening to his own body as 
well.  His own penis had become engorged and rock-hard. As he lay there 
under this larger boy, his own urine flooded out all over the two of 
them, and then before he realized what he had done, he exploded with his 
own first shot of boy-cum into his own briefs.  He lay there gasping, 
both from excitement and a sort of half-fear-half-ecstasy.

Claude remained on top of Alex for a couple of minutes, then got up and 
sauntered off with never another word. Probably to wear his 
pee-and-semen-soaked underpants under his shorts the rest of the day.

Alex had, in that brief time, ceased to be a little boy and become an 
adolescent with adolescent feelings and responses. His own private 
awakening.  He wandered back to the cabin, pulled off his soaked garment, 
and to his surprise, discovered surrounding his privates four hairs.  
Alex began to head toward manhood at Camp Manipee on beautiful Lake Takaleak.

That night in his bunk, Alex surrendered to his private thoughts.  He was 
not upset with his discovery, perhaps because he knew it was his time to 
megin maturation.  In the quiet of that night, with few outside sounds 
except the crickets in the deep woods, Alex's bunk also began to squeak 
rhythnmicalily as Alex stroked his penis, pulling his rose-petal foreskin 
up and down over his plum-colored head, up and down, up and down, in the 
joy of a second controlled orgasm.

And when he had shot his sweet boy-cum onto his belly and chest, he 
quietly turned over onto his side and as he had done so many times, 
pleasured himself by noiselessly peeing into his indian blanket.

And before the two weeks of camp was over, Alex had shared his loving 
secret with his best friend Herman and had showed little Herman how he, 
too, could give himself that greatest physical delight of all.  And once 
again, the two slept together in the embrace of boy-love.


                         ALEX'S FUN - Part 6

Our little Alex returned home from summer camp with much more going on in 
his little head than when he left.  He had toughened up in some ways; his 
formerly little pink body was now more of a tan, his muscles a bit 
stronger, his bare feet no longer baby-tender but calloused with romping 
and playing on the bare ground of the campyard. Alex's clothing during 
the camp term consisted of a tiny pair of underpants, abbreviated shorts, 
and a skimpy tee-shirt.  In this attire he was entirely comfortable 
during the balmy two weeks in the out-of-doors.  

He had learned how to play a number of sports much better.  The rapport 
with other children was good for Alex, as, being an only child, his 
circle of friends at home and school, while adequate, was not huge. 
During the camp "initiation" which occurred the first campfire night, 
each child was subjected to a practical joke -- nothing cruel or 
dangerous, just a bit humiliating, as boys often do.  One boy was told 
to open his mouth so the counselor could look at his teeth -- and he was 
greeted by a raw egg thrust into his alimentary cavern.  The boy spit it 
out in good spirits, everyone laughed, and one camper after another was 
called up to do or say something silly so that all could laugh together.

When it was Alex's turn to be initiated, two counselors held him aloft, 
one swinging him by arms, another by his skinny legs and feet.  They told 
him that he was going to be their "human divining stick" which would 
magically tell everyone where there was a spring of water underground.  
As the counselors held Alex aloft, another counselor slipped a large 
washtub full of water underneath.  The two fellows then lowered Alex 
until, Splash!  his rear end -- shorts and all -- was submerged in the 
lukewarm water!  

Now, some boys would have been humiliated to have those around the fire 
see them with wet pants.  Not Alex. He thought it was a funny joke on 
him, and besides that, it inspired his little bladder to relieve itself.  
So as Alex sat there in the bucket of water with all the campers laughing 
uproariously, Alex indulged himself once again and peed through his 
clothes into the tub.  No one knew of the boyish prank Alex was playing 
right there in their sight.  And, as always, Alex loved it.

But there was much more to what Alex had learned at camp this summer.  
His little friend Herman had been under his wing the entire time, so Alex 
had learned to love Herman as a brother and to be his 
guardian/protector/friend/confidante.  His arch-enemy from school, 
Claude, had picked on Alex whenever the opportunity presented itself. But 
from Claude, Alex had learned that there was something exciting about his 
private parts that could be excited by touching them.  Claude had, 
himself, violently attacked Alex in the woods, made him disrobe, and then 
sat on Alex and peed through his underpants onto Alex's body.  And Claude 
had rocked back and forth on top of Alex until he had poured out 
something Alex had not seen before, something sticky and white; and Alex 
had gotten so excited that he, too, let loose, relieved his bladder and 
then to his surprise, had another brand-new sensation. His penis had 
hardened violently within his underpants, and he, too, had poured out 
something new from his body which felt a bit like pissing, only more 
elegantly urgent, as though electricity were being pulsed through his 
tiny penis-head and up through his legs, his torso, and most of his body. 
And he had discovered, in the privacy of his bunk bed, that he could make 
the same wonderful sensation come again, just by putting his thumb and 
forefinger onto his organ and gently rubbing up and down.  He had told 
Herman about this, and he had shown Herman how to do it to himself, there 
in the quiet of their bunk beds when they were alone.

With this new strange knowledge, Alex returned home in the fall. Needless 
to say, he was curious, but he was also a bit frightened.  What had he 
done to himself? When he first had this electrifying experience, he was 
afraid -- fearful that he had damaged his penis, and that every time he 
peed, it would be that sticky, white, gooey substance.  How could he ever 
explain to his parents or anyone else that he had wrecked himself?

But Alex soon discovered there at camp that he had not injured himself.  
The next time Alex had to use the bathroom, his pee came out looking 
like it always did -- a very pale yellow, and in good quantity, not just 
a dollop or two like the white stuff.  Alex had no idea what this "stuff" 
was, he only knew that it felt so very good coming out, and that it was 
temporary.  Knowing this, Alex was not afraid to do it again.  But he 
kept it his secret -- his and Herman's -- and he did not say a word to 
his parents about it.  He knew that even in his worry, his parents would 
say something like, "It's naughty to touch your pee-pee in public."  So 
Alex only touched his pee-pee in private.  When he was home, he took 
advantage of his own room.  When he would go to bed at night, after 
saying good night to Mom and Dad, and the door securely shut, Alex would 
quietly pull down the sheets and his little pajama bottoms, and there in 
the dark, would begin gently to stroke his penis.  Some nights he would 
"forget" to wash under the foreskin when taking a bath or shower.  He 
learned that if he left it alone during the day, it acquired a strangely 
compelling odor, not unlike the cheese that Mom sometimes served for a 
meal. Alex liked to pull back his foreskin and touch his little head.  He 
would then sometimes transfer his fingers to his mouth and taste himself. 
And Alex liked it.  Alex would then begin to stroke himself slowly and 
gently, but rhythmically, up and down, up and down.  His fingers would 
manipulate his foreskin over the corona of his prick-head, which by now 
would be very firm and pointing upward.  All by himself, Alex discovered 
that the more he did this, the more his body became excited. First, a 
tingling in the penis itself, then an exciting sensation that ran all the 
way down into his little bottom and his legs.  Then, without being able 
to explain it even to himself, Alex would find himself moaning softly at 
this feeling which combined mild pain and stress with delight and the 
urgency accompanying it.  Alex could not quit, once he had started.  He 
would pump his penis somewhat faster, raising his little boy-hips up off 
the bed and moaning as if in deep pain as the oragasmic feelings 
increased, the urgency to relieve himself. And then, in perhaps ten 
minutes, his body would throb, his insides heave, and suddenly Alex would 
spew forth perhaps a tablespoon of delightful fluid.  Alex worried at 
times that he would mess the bed, so he learned to cup his hand over his 
penis and collect the liquid there. Or he would aim is up toward his face 
and allow the spurts to accumulate on his stomach and chest.  What warm 
delights!  Alex would then rub it around like lotion, and on at least one 
or two occasions, he would dip his finger in this interesting liquid and 
taste it.  It had a slightly salty taste, and Alex found it interesting. 

Gradually his passions would cool down, his stiffness would subside, and 
Alex would relax into a peaceful calmness, the likes of which he had not 
known before. He still had absolutely no idea what all this meant or why 
it happened to him, and he shared his concerns with no one except his 
little friend Herman.


                               ALEX'S FUN (Part 7)

Alex's body was indeed beginning to be that of an adolescent.  Although 
he was 11 1/2 years old and ready to go into Middle School, his stature 
had not increased by more than an inch over the summer.  He still was 
just over five feet tall.  He still had the beauty of a child -- the 
svelte torso with the tiny nipples, the small, dexterous hands, his 
winsome little face with its blue eyes and ready twinkle, his beautiful 
blond hair.  His legs were, as they had always been, somewhat wispy, 
seemingly very long in comparison to his overall length.  His leg muscles 
were beginning to develop, but he still had the cute, knobby knees of 
childhood.

Compare, now, Alex's best and most beloved friend, little Herman, the boy 
from "across the tracks."  Herman too, was growing in stature, but he had 
not yet caught up with Alex.  Herman was a bit more stocky, though not 
fat by any means.  This adorable little dark-complected boy with 
beautiful, searching brown eyes and a snaggle-toothed grimace, was 
equally smooth-skinned and well-shaped.  When standing facing Alex, his 
black hair came right to Alex's eye line.  And it often did, for Alex 
adored Herman, and Herman adored Alex.  Alex loved to hug Alex when they 
were alone and had no fear of shame -- a sort of comrade-type embrace, 
and both boys knew it meant they were pals forever.

The two still spent many weekends together.  Herman had never told his 
mother about the time he had accidentally peed in the bed at Alex's 
house.  If he had done that, it would probably have signalled the end of 
their sleepover experiences, and neither boy could stand the thought of 
that separation.  Herman was a regular bed-wetter at home, but so were 
his brothers and sisters -- a total of five children, so their beds were 
never completely dry at home, and no one seemed to mind that both beds 
and children often hinted of stale pee-pee.  It was part of life at 
Herman's house.

Alex still had his raucous sense of humor at age 11 1/2.  He loved to do 
untoward things in public.  And he taught little Herman to be as 
mischievous as he himself was.  Whevever they went together, they were up 
to some kind of quiet stunt.  It usually involved peeing.  This was still 
a source of devilish merriment to the two lads.  On Halloween they went 
out together Trick-or-Treating.  They accepted the goodies from all the 
neighbors who were home.  But at one house no one answered; the house was 
dark and deserted; and so Alex and Herman both unzipped their shorts and 
pee-peed through the letter-drop where mail was put, in onto the hardwood 
floor of the entryway.  It reminded Alex of the fun time he had as a 
little boy when he wet his grandmother's beautiful newly-varnished floor. 
And Alex liked it.

The sleepovers still occasionally involved the voluntary bed-wetting. 
Since it was a Friday night adventure, the sheets always went into the 
laundry early Saturday morning, so Mom never knew about it. But Herman 
and Alex still enjoyed having "pretend" accidents -- lying in the bed 
with very full bladders, and then peeing quietly on each other. "Our 
little secret," they called it, although they realized they were getting 
a bit old for such games.  

One night the two boys were not in a mood for wet games.  They merely lay 
in bed and talked quietly about boy-things and school.  They had played 
hard that day, and Alex had over-exerted.  He spoke meaningfully to 
Herman. "My back and legs are so sore!" he exclaimed. "Gosh, I pulled 
some muscles this afternoon."

Herman spoke up to his pal.  "When my Dad has aches, my Mom massages his 
back and neck.  Want me to do it for you?"

"Well, sure, I guess," countered Alex. "I've never had a massage before. 
Does it hurt?"

"No way!" Herman knew something about this, having watched his Mom work 
the kinks out of his Dad's tense muscles when he came home from work in 
the mill. "Turn over on your back, and I'll show ya!"

Alex did as told. At once, little spunky Herman crawled on the top, his 
little legs interlaced around Alex's butt.  With experience hands he 
began to knead Alex's shoulder muscles, rubbing around and around. "Ah, 
that feels great!" exclaimed Alex.  "Keep it up, buddy!"

Herman continued to rub and massage, and as he did, he worked his way 
down the middle of Alex's back. "Now I'll do your legs," he said.  And 
with that, Herman began to rub long strokes along Alex's thin little boy 
legs. He worked his way from the calves up to the back of Alex's knees, 
then his hips.

"Great!" said Alex. "I feel wonderful now."

"I'm not done," whispered Herman. "Turn over now and I will do the rest 
of you if you want me to."

"Sure thing, pal." Alex could not get enough of this.  Little Hermans 
fingers were dexterous.  Slowly, he began to stroke the front of Alex's 
legs, starting with the ankles and working up into his beautiful inner 
thighs.  Slowly, gently, Herman let his fingers do the walking as they 
crept up to Alex's crotch. Gently, touching ever so lightly, little 
Herman stroked closer and closer to Alex's Private Place.  Alex 
reflexively moaned and opened his legs wide and apart to give Herman 
access to where he knew he would soon go.

Herman's fingers began to lovingly massage Alex's testicle sack with its 
two beautiful little egg-shaped testes.  Alex moaned with delight. Herman 
allowed his forefinger to creep up and touch, ever so lightly, Alex's 
tiny hole.  He did not try to enter it with his finger, but simply 
revolved his finger around that oriface.  By now, Alex was writhing on 
the bed.  
"O my God, Herman," he moaned, "that feels wonderful!! I never knew it 
could feel so good to have a boy do that to me!  O my God, my God...." 
and Alex began to whimper with delight.

"I've massaged nearly everything," Herman said.  "All but one place down 
there. Do you want me to go on?"  By now, Alex's penis was standing up 
firm and strong, begging attention.  

"O yes, please, pal. Do it, do it, do it! Please go on!"  Alex could 
hardly keep his voice from breaking into a scream. And so little Herman, 
the little poor boy from the "wrong side of the tracks" -- dear little 
Herman, Alex's most beloved friend whom he had comforted and loved so 
many times, now began the task of returning some of that love to Alex in 
one way he knew how.  He tenderly grasped Alex's erect boy-part and 
slowly started moving Alex's foreskin up and down, up and down, with the 
greatest of care and love.  Alex's moans did not increase in volume, but 
his breathing became more urgent and rapid, he rocked up and down on the 
bed in rhythm with Herman's gentle hand motions. Herman's little fingers 
worked with purpose and skill.  

"How does it feel? How does it feel?" he begged. To which, little Alex 
could only moan, "More, please! Don't stop now, pal. Please don't stop! 
You've gotta go on!"

Then suddenly, Herman did something Alex would never have dreamed 
possible.  Herman moved his body down, lay across Alex's boy-legs, and 
gently took his boy-cock into his cherubic mouth and began to 
rhythmically suck.  "Ayee!"  Alex could not hold back a whimper of delight.
"O holy God, pal, what you are doing to me.  I can't stand it!!  I'm 
gonna -- I'm gonnna -- ayeee!!"  And Alex ejaculated his beautiful 
boy-sperm into Herman's waiting mouth.  Herman's tongue quickly licked up 
the small quantity of liquid as he swallowed.

By now, Herman, too, had a full erection. His prick, almost the size of 
Alex's, was moist and sticky on the tip.  Alex grabbed Herman in his 
arms and began to hug and caress him, rubbing his back. Both boys were 
completely naked by this point.  Alex rolled Herman over under him and 
swiftly began ministering to him as Herman had done to him just moments 
before.  "O my pal! my best friend ever!  I've gotta do you!" Alex said. 
And after rubbing Herman's torso in the same way he himself had been 
loved, he went down on Herman.  Putting his face into Herman's private 
area, Alex began to masturbate Herman's prick gently but with fervor.  He 
found the delicate foreskin easy to roll back, and at once he began to 
massage Herman's penis head with his tongue.  Herman writhed and wiggled, 
and then, out of breath, he cried, "Do it, please Alex-y buddy.  Please, 
please, please!!"  And Alex brought Herman to his first-ever orgasm,  
wherein Herman lurched his hips forward and thrust into Alex's face and 
gave out his first delightful spurts of his own semen.

The two lay together for a long time before falling into a deep sleep. 
Awaking in the morning, they looked into each others' faces and remained 
in a silent embrace until they were called for breakfast.


                         ALEX'S FUN (Part 8)

( Author's Note: This is a work of fiction which seems to just keep growing 
and growing.  Although "Alex" does not exist - nor little Herman either .. 
 consider that in a way they DO exist in all of us who love boys and 
their winsome and sometimes puckish ways.   These stories are based on 
truth, either from the author's own life or from things he has seen or 
heard regarding other boys.)


Shortly after Alex's twelfth birthday in August, he started Middle 
School, or sixth grade.  This meant going to a new building and 
experiencing a comletely different school environment.  He now moved from 
class to class throughout the day, and although this was a fun part of 
being a little older, it was in some ways sad, because Alex no longer saw 
his beloved little heart-throb buddy Herman except for one class.  Many 
times he sat in a class and longed to be able to look over the aisle and 
see his little friend smiling at him.  His heart leapt with pleasure when 
fourth period came and he and Herman were able to be together for one 
class. Sometimes Alex experienced an erection in his pants when he 
saw his friend.  He knew he would be with Herman over the weekend if no 
other time, for they remained "brothers" in the way they had become 
accustomed to doing for a couple of years.

Alex still maintained much of his little-boy characteristics.  While some 
of his colleagues had traded their soft soprano voices for a cracked 
baritone croak when speaking, Alex still had that little chirp in the 
upper registers. While some boys' faces (and girls, too) were 
occasionally blemished with acne from hormone changes, Alex's face 
remained white and clear.  Even the odor of some young teenagers changed 
to a sort of musky, sweaty smell which permeated the classroom after 
Physical Education class (the children did not shower at school in sixth 
grade.)  But Alex still had the fragrance of more-or-less new-mowed hay, 
a clean smell.  He was still on the slightly skinny side -- his long 
little legs with the knobby knees still looked much the same, with just a 
smattering of downy fuzz on them.  His beautiful penis now sported a 
small amount of equally downy hair, his ample foreskin still covered his 
head (except when Alex willed it otherwise);  his hairless testicles 
still dangled merrily in sight below his prick.  His hair had not 
darkened from the light blondness of his childhood but now was a bit 
inclined to be askew and not combed at all times -- but he did not let it 
grow out long as was the custom of the time.  No -- Alex's parents kept 
him neat always.

And Alex had developed his masturbatory skills over the summer.  He had 
also continued his peculiar interest in urolangia -- the delight of 
peeing, alone or with somebody or ON somebody, or in some unorthodox 
place or manner.  At times he wondered if he were slightly bonkers to 
enjoy such bizarre sports.  He had, of course, been brought up to have 
impeccable bathroom habits -- i.e., always put the toilet seat up before 
pissing, aim carefully, and wipe or shake his organ before returning it 
to his pants, in order not to leave a tell-tale damp spot on his clothes 
where his little foreskin had stayed wet.  But nevertheless, Alex enjoyed 
his little urinary games, and he involved Herman in them also.  

Once when they were out walking in the park, having consumed more Cokes 
than they should have,  Herman confided, "Man, I gotta pee right now!"  
Alex jumped at this remark, "So do I, so let's find some place."  With no 
public facilities in sight, the boys chose the open door of a storage 
shed where park implements were kept -- riding mowers, rakes, brooms, 
watering hoses, etc.  "Good enough, let 'er rip!" exclaimed Alex; and so 
then and there, the boys pulled open their shorts, stood inside the door 
of the shed, and relieved themselves, standing barefoot in the combined 
puddle of their own creation and giggling mightily.

Oh, these boys were silly.  Several times when alone outdoors, they would 
play "gas up the tank."  Alex would unveil his "hose," Herman would say, 
"Fill 'er up," and Alex would insert said hose into Herman's little 
underpants' fly and would gallantly pee all over Herman's crotch and 
legs.  Then the roles would be reversed, and Herman would service Alex.  
This was usually done as a joke, but one which both enjoyed mightily 
because it got them "excited" and occasionally the boys would end up 
ejaculating on each other.

No, this was strange diversion. But the boys enjoyed their little 
foolishnesses, and as long as they enjoyed what they were doing, no one 
was hurt.  And they discovered that other playmates of their acquaintance 
did equally outlandish things, such as one eighth-grader Ian, who had one 
time pissed on the floor in the back of the school bus just for the fun 
of it.  No one saw him except his seat-mate Daryl, who promptly moved 
over as Ian unleashed a minor flood on the rubber matting in the back of 
the bus.  Ian could have contained himself until reaching home, but he 
was just "in the mood" to do something silly, and so he did.  Another kid 
once took his gym towel to class with him and, sitting in the corner of 
the room, wet into it during Math class; no one saw him do it nor watched 
him jack off into the towel afterwards.  Teens were wretchedly naughty at 
times!

But back to our little Hero.  What happened next was frightening.

Do you remember Claude Dunkle -- the bully who had "initiated" Alex into 
sex play at camp the previous summer?  Alex was always somewhat 
frightened of Claude because of his size, but he was also fascinated by 
him. Even after Claude had forced Alex to indulge in an experience at the 
camp,  Alex often fantisized about Claude.  As is often the case with 
boys, the bully also becomes the object of a certain weird affection. In 
some strange way, Alex wished that he could be friends with Claude -- 
almost a sort of perverted hero worship.  

One night, Alex dreamed that Claude met him after school out on the 
playground. "I'm goin' to beat the shit out of you, little kid!" Claude 
had said. " Now, take off your clothes so I can start by tearing off your 
little prick!"  To Alex's surprise, he replied, "O yes, Claude, please DO!
Please hit me!  Please grab my prick!  C'mon, Claude, please, I want you 
to do it to me!"  And in his dream, Claude and he stripped naked, lay in 
the bushes in the schoolyard and mutually masturbated each other to the 
point of a gorgeous orgasm.

Just at that moment, Alex woke up suddenly and to his surprise, 
discovered that he had ejaculated all over himself, his pajamas, and his 
bedclothes.  His sheets were very wet where he was lying.  Alex had 
experiences his first wet dream, and it was with Claude, and he loved it! 
>From then on, he could never see Claude without remembering that 
wonderful experience.  How sad it could never be true!


So, not long after that,Alex one day asked his teacher if he might "be 
excused."  Alex walked the 50 yards down the corridor and quietly 
entered the huge toilet room lined in tile, with some dozen toilets along 
one wall and a very long gang urinal down the other side. Minding his own 
business as he entered, he was startled to hear from across the room the 
echoing sounds of what sounded like moans and laughter all at the same time.

Alex was curious.  He always thought the toilet room was somewhat 
esoteric in its furnishings -- all those shiny toilets lurking within the 
stalls but with no doors -- the marvelous acoustics of the place, and the 
freedom to pee when a thousand other boys were not there!  He tiptoed 
into the room and looked cautiously about.  From the far stall he heard 
more sounds of,  "Ohhh  ...... ohhhh.......ahhhh....... oh-ho-ho-ha!  
Eeeee!" At first he thought someone was indisposed and suffering the 
torment of prolonged regurgitations.  His memory did a flashback to that 
time in first grade when little Herman gave him a look of surprised 
desparation and vomited all over the room right next to him.  But Alex's 
curiosity was greater than his caution.  He tiptoed over and peered in 
the direction of the far stall.

There sat his arch enemy, the Mighty Hulk -- the Terror of all small boys: 
 Claude Dunkle -- his grimy, greasy pants at his knees, his stained 
T-shirt pulled up exposing his mighty whale belly -- with his hand 
wrapped greedily around his engorged, circumcised angry-looking penis -- 
and he was pounding up and down for all he was worth!  He was 
masturbating in the holy-of-holies, the school restroom!  And he was 
enjoying it tremendously. His feet were bouncing up and down in rhythm 
with his jerk-off motions, and he was in the throes of an impending orgasm!

Alex was fascinated.  Here was one aspect of his "dream" coming true: he 
was witnessing Claude masturbating!  Alex sucked in his breath with 
surprise, just as Claude looked up, and just at the second that Claude 
shot a stream of boy-juice all over his hand, his legs, his clothes and 
the bathroom floor.

Claude looked thunderstruck.  He quickly pulled up his pants, wedged his 
oversized weenie back into them, and made for Alex.

"Dammit, how long have you been watching me, you little fart?!" he 
demanded. "I oughta kill you for spying on me!  I guess now you think 
you're going to tell on me, right?"

Alex looked at Claude with his little-boy blue eyes all-innocence, and 
said, "You were jacking off, weren't you?"  In the same tone of voice, he 
might have said, "Do you think it will rain today?"

"So you ARE going to get me in trouble by telling I jacked off at school?!"

Alex continued to look at Claude with his soulful eyes. "No, I'm not 
gonna tell on you. Why should I want to get in trouble for staying out of 
class in the boys' room so long?"

And then what happened defied belief.  Big, fat, tough Claude, the boy 
who once had sat on little Alex, half his size, and peed all over him and 
then ejaculated on him, mean Claude who talked loud and farted in class, 
who talked back to teachers and said such things as "Suck my cock, 
teacher!" now burst into a flood of tears. He melted.  Alex could not 
believe what he was seeing.  Wracking sobs shook Claude.

"O my God, Alex," Claude wept.  "I dunno how to tell you.  It's all just 
been bottled up in me so long, I gotta tell someone.  You know, at home 
my Dad gets drunk sometimes and beats the hell out of me and even my 
sister!  He comes in late at night and drags us out of bed and yells at 
us for no reason, and sometimes he even grabs me here (and Claude 
indicated his genital region) and HURTS me.  My Mom is scared-shit of 
him!  O God, little Alex,  I hate to go home at night!  I know it's all 
crazy; sometimes I want to die.  I wish I came from a good home like 
yours.  I even wish I could be like little ol, Herman, cute kid, as poor 
as he is, his family cares about him!"  And Claude clung to Alex in 
desparation and poured out his tears and his tale of woe.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a minute or so, and Alex 
spoke. "Oh, Claude, I've got you all wrong!  I thought you hated us 
little kids, but I see it now -- you feel hated yourself, and you just 
had to pass it on!  Claude, I feel so bad.." and Alex who was himself a 
"softie," clung onto Claude and wept, their tears mingling on their 
touching cheeks and shirts.

"Maybe now you know why I was doing -- that  -- here in the boys' room. I 
was feeling so bad about things, and I just needed to do something to 
make me feel good, and that's the only time I feel good, when I beat off: 
 it makes me forget, 'cause it feels so wonderful......."

"Oh,Claude, I - -  I - like --- well, I really think I LOVE you!" Alex 
blurted out. "I really like -- I mean, love you, too, Alex!" sniffled Claude.

"I wish I could do something to help you, Claude," said Alex. " But all I 
can do really is just let you talk to me whenever you feel like you need 
to let it all out, and I can listen and love you, and maybe .... maybe.." 
and Alex hesitated, knowing what he was thinking,  " ... and maybe 
sometimes we can do something together to make us 'feel wonderful' -- 
THAT way,"  and Alex looked straight into the eyes of the now-relaxed and 
calm Claude.

"Yeah, buddy, maybe we can....." said Claude.


                            ALEX'S FUN (Part 9)

It is very strange how two boys who have been at odds for several years 
can change and become friends.  The change in the relationship between 
Alex and Claude was most remarkable.  Since early childhood, Alex had 
stood in awe of Claude: he did not hate him, he simply regarded him with 
fascination and disgust.  Big Claude, who had no regard for adult 
authority, who demonstrated his earthy nature by farting in class and 
laughing about it, by talking rudely and roughly, by making a show of 
bully-ism in front of the smaller boys in his class, was the cause of 
wonderment and interest to Alex.  And then, after the revelation in the 
boy's lavatory when Alex came upon Claude furiously masturbating, the 
relation changed.  Claude confided in a moment of desparation that his 
only moments of pleasure were in this boyish physical release.  His home 
life was made intolerable by his likewise bullying father and his weak 
mother. 
Alex was always a sensitive lad; he felt sorry immediately for Claude, 
and since he had for some time harbored a secret longing to know Claude 
physically, he now reveled in their new fraternization.
Alex's parents were not aware of Claude as they were of little Herman who 
still spent a lot of time with Alex at home. Alex prudently did not 
divulge the incident at camp the previous summer, nor did he tell his 
parents about his discovery of Claude's "Achilles Heel." And so they were 
not aware that on several occasions, Claude and Alex would get together 
and share boysex with each other.
Alex, of course, had learned to masturbate, which he did daily by 
himself, and now and then with Herman.  Alex pleasured himself gently and 
with much finesse, taking up to an hour to gently bring himself to orgasm 
in his bed.  Now, he and Claude experimented together.  For Claude, it 
was release of tension, anger, fear and other devastating emotions from 
home. 
"My Dad tries to butt-fuck me," Claude informed Alex one day after school 
as they were walking home.
"What's 'butt-fuck'?" inquired little Alex, wide-eyed.
"Migod, you don't know??" Claude could hardly believe it.  "It's like 
when a man puts his prick inside of someone, usually a woman. That's the 
way they make babies, or didn't you know that?"
"Noooo..." said Alex. And truthfully, until that moment, Alex had never 
associated his penis with reproduction. 
"Well," continued Claude, a man puts it into a woman and goes up and 
down, and out comes the stuff that makes a baby."
Little lights began to dawn in Alex's head.  So that's what that whitish 
stuff was -- baby seed, maybe?
Alex's mother had once told him that when parents love each other, the 
father passes a seed to the mother and she turns it into a baby. In 
Alex's little brain, the image was of mom and dad sitting at the table 
together and dad passes a little seed (like what they planted in their 
garden that spring) over to the mom who does something with it and makes 
a baby.  But now, Claude was making it clear.
"So anyhow," Claude said, looking pained and angry at once, "my Dad gets 
drunk sometimes, see?  He comes home loaded, and he tells Mom he wants 
pussy now."
"You mean, your Dad gets drunk and wants to talk about a cat??!!" Alex 
still did not know the language of the streets.
"No, silly!  Man, Alex, you need to wise up!  Dad wants to throw the meat 
into Mom. But she won't let him if he's drunk."
Alex's head was swimming.  He now had visions of Claude's Dad chasing his 
Mom around with a steak or hamburger or something.  But Claude kept talking.
"When that happens, Dad sometimes goes down on my sister.  And if she 
fights him off, he sticks his thing in my ass!  O God, it hurts like 
hell!" and Claude grimaced.
This part Alex understood.  He knew about his own little asshole; he had 
tried a time or two to put his finger inside and found that, although a 
bit nasty, it felt very good and got his little peter very hard 
sometimes. But to have a Dad do that to him!  Oh, Alex's Dad would NEVER 
do that!  Alex had seen his own Dad's penis only a few times; it, too, 
was uncircumcised and very neat, and never hard. So these revelations of 
Claude were shocking.  Alex sympathized but never talked about it to 
anyone at home.
So when Claude was in a depressed mood, he and Alex would sometimes go 
off into the nearby park together after school.  There was a wooded area 
somewhat removed from the playground, and there Alex and Claude would 
experiment. 
The first time together, the boys agreed that they wanted to play with 
each other's penises.  Lying together side by side on the ground in a 
grove of trees, the boys pulled their pants down to their knees and 
examined closely each others' genitals.  The touching began not too 
subtly. Claude caught hold of Alex's little firm prick and began to tug 
and jerk roughly.
"Ow!" yelled Alex. "That hurts!"
"Sorry," Claude replied.  I've never seen one like yours. Why do you have 
that funny skin on the outside of yours?  I don't have that!"
"I dunno," admitted Alex. But my Dad's looks like mine, and so does 
Herman's.  Dad told me that when I was a baby they didn't cut it off like 
they do with some kids'.
By now, Claude had a huge erection.  His large prick was standing high at 
attention, and Claude turned his energy to jacking off with the energy 
he might have used to churn butter.
"Wow, you are so rough!" said Alex.  "How can you stand that? If I did 
that, mine would bleed!" and he remembered once when he had pleasured 
himself a bit too roughly and had caused his tiny frenum to bleed into 
his underpants.  Never again did Alex do that.
"Let me show you how to do it gentle-like." And Alex took Claude's big 
hand and wrapped Claude's fingers around his little penis. "Now, just 
slide the skin up and down very slowly and gently -- don't grab!" And 
Alex gave Claude a directed lesson on how to bring him to orgasm in a 
gentle and delightful way. With this kind of treatment, Alex, in about 
ten minutes, arched his back, moaned in delight and spurted his boy-sperm 
into Claude's fist.
"Migod, you can cum after all!" Claude was amazed.
"Now, let me do you," offered Alex. And he grasped Claude's boy-cock in 
his own hand. 
"How do you do it?" he asked. "You don't have nothin' to slide up and down."
"O boy," moaned Claude, who was already feeling excited. "Just grab it 
down low and run your hand up and down the whole thing. And spit on it 
first, it makes it easier."
Alex needed no invitation. He leaned over and expectorated on Claude's 
mighty organ and began, very slowly and very gently, to run his little 
hand up and down. 
Claude moaned and groaned and rocked back and forth. "I'm feeling SO 
GOOD, Alex-boy!  Pal!  Keep it up just that way!" and Claude moaned 
louder as moisture began to seep out of his prick-head and run down 
Alex's fingers.
In a moment, Claude tensed, gasped, and with no further word, Claude 
ejaculated -- he cummed and cummed and cummed -- all over Alex's hand as 
well as over Alex's torso and even his penis, which was still semi-erect 
and very near Claude.
The boys lay side by side until the heat of passion had passed. Then, 
wiping their wet genitals with their hands, and then their hands on the 
grass, they gathered themselves up, pulled up their shorts and walked 
in the direction of their homes together.
"Oh, Alex, buddy, that was so good!" said Claude, in one of the first 
gentle and loving tones Alex had ever heard. "I never knew it could be so 
soft and gentle and wonderful at the same time!" 
"I liked it too, very, very much!" exclaimed Alex.  I wanna do it some 
more with you!"
"How about tomorrow after school?" Both boys needed to reassure each 
other that this delightful experience needed repetition. And so........


                          ALEX'S FUN (Part 10)

Alex and Claude managed to get together a couple of times a week from 
then on. They would usually head for the same wooded area of the park, 
and there in the privacy of a grove, they would enjoy the delights of 
newly-discovered boysex.
The two indulged in watering activities along with their masturbatory 
experiences.  Claude never spent the night at Alex's house as little 
Herman continued to do over the weekends, so he did not play the 
bed-wetting games that Alex and Herman still did on occasion. But one 
afternoon, Claude had bypassed the opportunity to relieve himself in the 
school restroom before starting out for home.  
"Man, I gotta take a whiz now!" Claude confided. "Me, too!" enjoined 
Alex. And so, in a spirit of ribald hilarity, the boys whipped open their 
pants, pulled out their not-so-little watering-devices and peed on each 
other! 
"Jeez, that's crazy fun!" chirped Alex. "Do it down the back of my legs, 
Claude! Please, I like that!" and so Claude darted behind Alex, pulled 
down his shorts just an inch or so and pissed all over Alex's hindside. 
In exchange for this bath, Alex whirled around, ripped open Claude's fly 
and finished his piss inside Claude's pants.  The boys then jumped and 
hollered and hooted, and fell together on the ground in a jubilee of wild 
masturbation, each excited beyond words by what they were doing.
Following this boyish orgy, the two spent some time walking around the 
area and allowing themselves to get semi-dry. By the time Alex arrived at 
home, his shorts were only slightly moist, and no questions were asked. 
Thank goodness!
Alex and Claude also indulged in oral stimulation. Alex quickly learned 
how to take in Claude, and with some spontaneous tongue motions was able 
to bring Claude off very quickly.  Claude had to be instructed in how to 
retract Alex's foreskin before drinking in his beautiful organ and giving 
Alex the release he needed.
Finally, one day Alex decided to let his family meet Claude.  He asked 
his Mom if Claude could come over for dinner one evening after school, 
and of course, the answer was yes.
"We love to meet your friends, Alex, and you can always bring them home.  
But, but haven't I heard...." she hesitated, "haven't I heard that Mr. 
Dunkle --- well, I think  he drinks, doesn't he?"
With that, Alex, bless his soul, told his mother about Claude's admission 
that Dad "beat up" on them at home.  Of course he did not reveal the 
carnal details, and he did not reveal what he himself was doing to help 
Claude "feel better."
And so, Claude was invited to an evening meal.  He was so polite, Alex 
sat in amazement at how this big farting bully could now be so docile, so 
polite, so perfect!  And Alex was glad.
When Claude left to walk home, Alex's Mom hugged him momentarily. "We're 
glad you came tonight, Claude dear," she said.  "Remember..." and here 
Alex thought he detected a catch in her voice and a tear in her eye, 
"..remember we are always here if you ever need anything."  Claude 
blushed, said "Thank you, Ma'am! I enjoyed it so much!" and sauntered off 
into the twilight.
Alex was aglow and that night his fantasy was one of a blissful "69" with 
his pal Claude.  When his semen poured out into his hand in the bed, Alex 
whispered, "Good night, Pal. I love you!"


                    ALEX'S FUN (Part 11)

Growing up is both rapturous and ultimately painful.  Children up to the 
age of 10 or 11 are, hopefully, shielded from the tragic realities of 
life.  Alex had always been a much-loved and admired child, a beautiful 
creature of a boy, with not only a blissfully beautiful body but a 
sprite-like spirit which looked on all adventures as joyful.  Even his 
escapades into the world of boy-sex were not ridden with guilt-feelings; 
Alex accepted his testicles and penis as wonderful parts of his anatomy.  
His joy at learning that these appendages could give much pleasure when 
manipulated, was without shame.  Of course, he was aware that some things 
were "boy-things" and did not need to be shared with Mom or Dad.  And so 
his laisons with little Herman (who continued always his best friend,) 
and with Claude (his present heart-throb) were his own little secret.
Alex did not let his new-found knowledge go to waste.  His pattern was 
almost always the same:
    Friday night: Sleepover with Herman at his house.  Involved play-
                  wrestling in the bed nude, watersports -- namely peeing
                  mutually on each other in the shower or occasionally 
                  into the bedclothes, but always hastening with the wet
                  items to the laundry (Mom thought it was "so thoughtful"
                  how the boys always cleaned up after themselves and helped
                  her with the Saturday morning laundry), and assisting each
                  other in achieving a blissful ejaculation, manually and/or
                  orally.
 Tuesday/Thursday afternoons: Walk home with Claude after school.  Detour 
                  through the park: usually engage in rough-house activities
                  in the woods and quite often indulge in boysex.
 Saturday/Sunday/Monday/Wednesday nights: Time with the family: no overnight
                  company allowed on a school night. For Alex, this meant a
                  a time for soliloquy of the spirit and the penis: a  
                  time of fantasizing about his two soul-mates, remembering
                  them and fondling himself to orgasm as he did so.  Alex 
                  pleasured himself while lying in a bathtub of warm water,
                  sometimes he mused and daydreamed while he was supposed to
                  be doing homework alone in his room, and he would pull out
                  his boy-thing while seated at his desk, pull his shorts 
                  and stroke his foreskin in his chair until he creamed on
                  himself -- for this he had a big box of Kleenex handy --
                  and as often as not, while curled up in a fetal 
                  position in his own bed awaiting sleep.

There were times, however, when Alex could not meet this schedule.  One 
Thursday, he had to go home not with Claude but with his Dad, who needed 
to take him shopping for a new pair of shoes.  He told Claude about this 
early in the day and said, "I'm sorry, buddy, we'll have to miss our  
'playtime' today, 'cause I have to go with Dad."  Claude looked as if he 
had been slapped, and he muttered something about his own Dad which Alex 
did not hear. Then aloud he said, "Oh, that's OK, buddy, we can skip one 
time."
But then later in the afternoon, Alex looked across the aisle and saw 
Claude staring at him with an almost hypnotized, dazed look.  Claude's 
head was resting on his desk (the teacher was busy and did not notice.) 
Then, imperceptably, Claude's hand moved down to his crotch, and Alex was 
surprised to see that Claude had an immense erection in his pants! 
Clearly, Claude desperately needed that orgasmic release which he usually
found with Alex, but that being denied him this afternoon, he now, 
through fantasy, was giving to himself.  Alex's heart throbbed: 
immediately he reacted by having a throbbing hard-on in his own shorts.
Slowly, Claude began to move his fingers around and around on the bulge, 
all the while looking at Alex with a sort of sad expression. Almost 
instinctively, Alex moved his hands down into his shorts and began to 
manipulate his penis which very quickly responded with an erection.

Both boys, their classwork now out of mind, quietly and furtively fondled 
themselves, almost simultaneously reaching silent orgasm and ejaculating 
in their pants there in the classroom, unobserved by anyone else.

A few days later when Claude and Alex were walking their wooded path, 
Claude said, "Alex, I really want to do something we've not tried.... 
I.... I want to......how can I say it.......I want to give it to you in 
the ass, and I want you to do it to me, please? See, when my Dad does it 
to me, he hurts me BAD, and he doesn't care about me at all! But, well, 
from you..." and here, Alex detected Claude's voice about to break and a 
tear welling up in his eyes..."I've learned that 'it' can be loving and 
gentle, and,  well--- it DOESN'T HAVE TO HURT when you really love 
somebody!" 
Alex was astounded.  Although he realized that his own little rectum was 
susceptable to pleasures, he did not want to be butt-fucked, and he did 
not want to butt-fuck Claude.  Suck off, all right; masturbate, OK, too, 
but he could not bring himself to insert his penis into a boy.
"No, Claude, I just can't!  I can't!  I like you so much, I really love 
you, but I just can't!  At least, not now!"
"O, all right!" said Claude, not at all happily, but without rancor. 
"Maybe sometime.  I'd really like to do that with you, Alex. I guess 
maybe I ought to just go on home today, OK, friend?"
"Well fine," said Alex; "Hey, pal, I'll see you tomorrow, and we can have 
some fun then." 
"Swell," said Claude, "you know, anyhow, my Dad is sober right now and 
he's gonna take me to a show tonight. Neat, huh?"
"Sure," said Alex.  He was truly glad that Old Man Dunkle was sober 
enough to do something nice for Claude. " 'Bye."  And the boys parted.

The next morning, as Alex lay awake in his bed awaiting a day of joy with 
Claude, and anticipating Friday night with Herman, his mother entered his 
bedroom even without knocking.  Alex could see that she had been crying, 
and she looked terrible.
"What is it, Mom? What's the matter?" Alex almost screamed. 
"Oh, my dear darling Alex!" and his mother flung herself, weeping, on the 
edge of Alex's bed. She grasped him and hugged him in her arms tightly.
"Oh, sweetie, I have something terrible to tell you!" The sobs wracked her.
"O darling,  your friend Claude's dead!"


                         ALEX'S FUN (Part 12)

Alex's Mom waited quietly while Alex looked quizically at her as if he 
could not believe his ears. Then his expression changed from surprise to 
horror and then to unbelief.
"Oh, oh!  No! Mom! It just can't be true!  Claude can't be dead!  Why, he 
told me yesterday his Dad was 'better' and was going to take him out to a 
show last night!  He HAS to be all right! I ..  I'm going to be seeing 
him today at school!  Oh, Mom!" And Alex began to sob uncontrollably.
Alex's Mom rocked him in her arms for several moments while she tried to 
get her own emotions under control.
"Alex, I know you are so young to have to bear this, but it did happen! 
Claude died last night." And as Alex rocked back and forth in his 
mother's arms, she explained what had happened.

Claude's Dad indeed did have a good week: he came home sober every night, 
he did not strike any of the family members, he really felt that things 
were looking up.  He had received a promotion in his job as a foreman in 
a plant, and he had, indeed, promised to take his only son Claude out to 
a movie.  Father and son started out down the road and headed for what 
Claude's Dad thought was the way to the Mall. But somewhere along the 
line, he became confused and made a wrong turn.  Instead of heading 
toward the Mall, he ended up driving along a stretch of road that in turn 
became a small highway and soon ended them up in the darkened 
countryside.  The Dad realized he had made a serious error and turned the 
old car around to head back to familiar territory.
But as they made their change of direction,  a loud *blam* was heard, and 
father and son realized they had a blowout. Stopping along the shoulder 
of the narrow roadway, the father began to put the right front  wheel of 
the car upon a jack while Claude was instructed to get the spare from the 
trunk.
Neither of them saw the car approaching from behind over the brow of a 
hill and at a dangerously high rate of speed.  Before either could react, 
the car plowed into the left rear of the Dunkle's auto, striking poor 
Claude as he was lifting the tire from the trunk and sent him flying for 
more than fifty yards.
The occupants of the car jammed on their brakes and without waiting to 
call for help, lifted Claude into their own car; with Claude's Dad riding 
along in a panic, they headed for the nearest hospital, a good eight 
miles away, but by this time, Claude, who had suffered contusions over 
most of his body, was lapsing into unconsciousness.
His Dad was in tears and was calling his name desperately. Dear Claude 
opened his eyes and said in a faint voice, "Tell Alex I won't be at 
school tomorrow, please, Dad......" and so saying, he gave a deep sigh 
and expired there in the car.
Alex's mother had received the sad news just a few minutes before she 
told all this to Alex: Claude's mother had called and related this 
message since she knew that Claude considered Alex a dear friend. "He 
sure did think a heap of that boy," Claude's mother said through her own 
tears.

Life had to go on, Alex's mother said.  You must go on to school today, 
she said: you will need to be with your friends instead of staying here 
and thinking about it. She also reminded Alex what the family believed: 
they were a religious family and believed that when one died, God would 
accept him or her into heaven and that all would be well. 
"Try to remember that now Claude has no pain or hurt, he is safe with 
God," Alex's mother told him as she left him off at school a while later.

Not much studying took place at school that day.  The counselor called 
all of the students into the auditorium and explained what had happened 
to their schoolmate.  She told them that Claude did not suffer long, and 
that he would not have to live a life with a crippled body, that his soul 
was in heaven now, and that all of us must go on and live our lives to 
the fullest.
Alex sat there with his little head full of confusion.  He knew what 
Claude had felt about religion.  When Claude was a first-grader, his 
parents had put him in a parochial school with the hope that the values 
taught there would help make Claude a stronger and better person. But all 
that Claude remembered and had related to Alex was the time that he was 
in class as a six-year-old and was idly playing with his little penis 
in his little pants during class.  The nun in charge had come by his 
desk, rapped his little hand with her ruler and screamed, "You naughty 
little boy!  I saw you *touching yourself* under your desk!  Don't you 
know you will go to HELL for doing that?"  Claude had been terribly 
mortified, and from then on, he was determined that he would never let 
himself be caught playing with his peter in class, but would do it in 
private or elsewhere whenever he could.  And so, when he moved to Alex's 
school the next year, little Claude had become big Claude, the bully who 
talked back, farted in class, masturbated unmercifully, and hated 
everyone, loving no one and feeling unloved, until little Alex had 
befriended him and taught him gentle and loving sex and had showed in 
many ways that he cared about him, and then Claude learned to respond in 
kind. But now all of that was gone.
 
Somehow, Alex managed to survive the tedious day.  At evening, he walked 
home in a daze, deliberately bypassing the park where he and Claude had 
enjoyed so many moments of pleasure together.  Somehow, Alex managed to 
get through the evening, doing a little of his homework, and listening to 
his parents talk about how Claude was now home with God. He could not 
force himself to eat: his stomach was in a knot.

After his parents had gone to bed, Alex lay awake a long time.  Finally 
realizing that he could not sleep, Alex got up, tiptoed down the hall and 
out the back door into the yard. There, in the silence, he agonized over 
his infinitely deep loss and tried without success to come to terms with it.

"Why, WHY did Claude have to die?" Alex asked noone in particular. "What 
can I do now without him?  I loved him, I loved him, and O God, how I 
miss him!  The rest of my life without Claude!" and Alex moaned and wept. 
"Oh, oh,  is Claude REALLY all right?"  And his agony became almost a 
prayer. "I know Claude did some bad things sometimes, but O God, I GOTTA 
know he's all right!!  God, do you let boys who jack off go to heaven? O 
God, surely you can't have sent him to hell like that nun said!  Please, 
O God, O please, please!!"

And poor little Alex felt the bile rise in his throat.  He stood alone 
behind the garage and retched, suffering the torment of those who must 
vomit with an empty stomach.  Only the taste of bile came up and ran down 
his chin and onto his bare feet.  And then, as had happened so many 
times with his pals, Alex's bladder voided and he unconsciously peed all 
over himself in his pajamas, his hot piss flowing down onto the ground 
where he had vomited.

It was there that his mother found him a short time later, after 
discovering his bed empty. He was lying on the cold ground shivering and 
sobbing.  Tenderly she picked him up, carried him into the house, pulled 
off his soiled pajamas, washed him, and put on a fresh pair of 
underpants. Then, with a hug and kiss, she tucked him back into his bed.

And little Alex curled up in his bed in a fetal position, grasped his 
erect penis and stroked himself until he fell into a fitful sleep.

No less painful was the funeral two days later. It was scheduled for 
Saturday in order that the students in Claude's school could attend. 
Claude's father was in a state of severe shock and could barely make it. 
He sat, eyes staring blankly into nothing, saying nothing and showing no 
immediate feeling.  Claude's sister and mother cried throughout the 
ceremony. Beside the family and Alex's, there were about a dozen people 
in attendance.  Not many people knew the Dunkles, and only a few loyal 
neighbors and one or two relatives from West Virginia drove over.

The minister, whom Alex's mother had prevailed upon to deliver the 
eulogy, spoke again about God's goodness, even to the tiniest sparrow 
that falls.  Alex had trouble thinking of big Claude as a sparrow, but he 
wept silently at the thought of his pal being gone forever.  He wished 
vainly that he could rise up through the ceiling and look up into the sky 
to catch a glimpse of that visage he had come to love. He felt a terror 
at being "tied down" to earth and longed to be able to communicate with 
his friend.

After the service, those present were given one final opportunity to gaze 
into the casket.  Claude's body was there, but he did not look "real." 
This seemed a pasty imitation of the robust boy who loved to fart aloud 
in class, who had learned to give and receive gentle sex with his 
boy-pal, who had been so polite and nice when he came to visit at Alex's 
house that one time.  

Alex finally spoke when all had left. "Mom, please, PLEASE give me a few 
minutes alone with Claude, will ya?"  He was so desperately sincere that 
his parents and even Claude's parents left the chapel, leaving Alex alone 
with what remained of Claude.

At once, Alex began to cry and sob uncontrollably.  His reason began to 
wander. 

"Oh, Claude, Claude, PLEASE speak to me!" he cried.  "Claude, I didn't 
want to hurt you by saying No that last time you asked me to do that 
thing with you!  O no, no, if you can hear me, please believe me that I 
would do anything, ANYTHING you wanted to do now if I could have you 
back! O Jesus, Claude!  I love you so much and always will!"

With his growing hysteria, poor little Alex climbed up on the step in 
front of the coffin until he was peering right down into Claude's face. 
He put his arms around the body of Claude and began to caress and 
stroke him.

"O my God, Claude! I need you to be here for me!  Please, please!" and 
Alex began to rock back and forth against the top of the casket. "O 
Claude, Claude!  Yes, yes, yes,  I need to love you!!" and Alex, in his 
unreasoning hysteria, began to thrust his hand down into the pants of the 
suit in which Claude had been buried.  "O Claude! I love you!" and Alex 
found the object of his former joy, now flaccid and cold, and began 
hysterically to rub it in desperation as if his overtures of sex could 
return Claude to life.

Aboutt ten minutes later, Alex's parents came back into the chapel to 
find Alex again lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the coffin, 
rocking back and forth on the floor and moaning, "I can't wake him up, 
Mom! I can't!"  Alex's little suit pants were wet in front where in his 
anxiety he had cummed in them.  Poor little boy.

Alex was borne home and put to bed, where he remained in a state of 
delirium for another day, and a state of lethargy and shock for two 
more.  Alex did not eat; he lost control of his bowels and bladder, and 
he was catatonic.  The doctor was summoned and could only state that Alex 
had suffered a real trauma, and that only time would tell how he would rally.


                       ALEX'S FUN (Part 13)

Alex's grief over the death of his friend Claude was a tortuous
experience for his parents.  They could not help but weep to see Alex
lying in his bed in a fevered condition, tossing and turning, and moaning
in his sleep, "Oh, Claude, Claude, I miss you so much."   After two days
of incoherency, Alex seemed to rally somewhat but was still bedfast.  He
had not eaten since the day of the funeral, and in his weakened
condition, he could barely move.  His normally thin body appeared more
gaunt than normal; he had dark circles under his eyes which were glassy,
his arms and legs seemed almost skeletal.  He was too weak to walk; in
his incontinent condition he could not retain his waste.  Since he would
not eat, there was little to excrete; his loving mom and dad saw to it
that he was kept clean -- they changed his underwear and bed sheets
perhaps three or four times a day, little realizing that in times of good
health, Alex and his pal Herman had deliberately and gleefully wet Alex's
bed in their boy-play.

Alex drifted in and out of consciousness after those two terrible days.
And then, on the afternoon of the fourth day after Claude's funeral, he
heard a voice coming as though through a long tunnel: "Alex! Alex! Talk
to me, please, Alex!  I've missed you so much -- please, come back and
talk to me!"  And Alex was aware of a wetness on his hand extended across
the top of the bed covering.  Gradually his mind cleared of its cobwebs,
he opened his eyes, and there, sitting by his side on the edge of the
bed, was his dear little friend Herman!  Herman was crying softly, his
childish tears dripping onto Alex's hand.  He looked up into the adoring
little face of his buddy, and as his vision cleared, he was aware that
his pal was calling him back to life!

At once, Alex breathed deeply, gave out a cry of, "Herman!" and forthwith
grasped him in his arms, pulling him down onto the bed. "Oh, pal!" Alex
exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're here! It's been awful!" And Alex began to
cry, but this time, not tears of despair but of relief that his nightmare
of loss was coming to an end and that his best pal Herman still loved him
and was there to help him.

Alex's parents, themselves misty-eyed at this spectacle, left the bedside
and gave the boys time to talk.  Herman pulled back the blanket and
snuggled in next to Alex, who was now lucid and able to talk.  "I know
how sad you've been," Herman commented, "Your mom told me you fainted at
the funeral."  Well, that wasn't exactly it, Alex thought as his memory
of that awful experience began to return. "Well, sorta," Alex admitted,
"I got awfully sick after that."

"I know you miss Claude," continued Herman, "but ya still got me, pal!"
and his dark little face lit up with a smile.  "I sure do!" rejoined
Alex, feeling more like himself all the time.

The boys continued lying together in silence, stroking each other on the
back as they lay facing each other.  Suddenly, both boys realized that
once again the bed was wet, Alex having involuntarily released his fluid.
Herman remembered a time a year or so back when he had accidentally wet
Alex's bed during a sleepover, so now it was his turn to reassure his pal
Alex. "That's OK, buddy," said Herman, "I guess it was your turn to have
an accident,  remember?" and Alex could not refrain from giggling at this
memory.  "How about it?" asked Herman, "like old times?"  Alex nodded.
Herman crowded close to Alex, and, breathing deeply as he stared into
Alex's eyes, Herman moaned,  "Ahh..." and quietly peed in his shorts and
onto Alex, who sighed with pleasure as the warm wetness enveloped them
both. Hands went out, and both boys again renewed their affectionate
fondlings as each one, having now removed their clothing under the sheet
and blanket, stroked each other to orgasm.  It was a blissful
masturbation for both of them who had experienced no such relief since
before the funeral.

The two young boys came simultaneously, ejaculating profusely in one huge
combined orgasm, their semen pouring from them and upon them.

When at last they were spent and lay in each others' arms sighing and
relaxing, Alex said, "Oh, that was so good! You did me so well, Herman,
thanks, buddy!" to which Herman replied, "Yeah, same here! God, it was
great!"

Suddenly, the two boys realized that they were not alone: Alex's dad was
standing in the doorway watching this scene, tears in his eyes.  The boys
gasped and pulled apart, both remaining under the sheets but sitting bolt
upright.

"Oh-oh!" thought Alex, "this may be the last of Herman here!" And little
Herman himself was speechless with surprise and fright.

Dad spoke first, his voice trembling with emotion. "Boys, I know what you
are up to: I've suspected for some time that you two were playing
around."

"Dad," Alex started to speak in his defense and that of Herman.

"Now, let me continue," said his Dad.  "I'm not mad at either of you.
When I saw how you, Herman.." and here his voice broke momentarily, and
then as he regained his composure, ".....how you came in here with all
that love for our little boy, and you showed it by your calling him back
to -- well -- to LIVE again -- how you inspired him to wake up from his
misery and smile again -- well -- well, it's all right what you're doing!
I'm so glad you have each other for pals, and if you can show your
feelings without shame and make each other feel so good, then don't
worry, you're  always welcome here, Herman."  And Dad embraced both boys
in his big arms, ignoring the wetness the boys had created, and again
left the room.

"Gosh, your Dad's great!" said Herman enthusiastically. "Yeah, I know
it!" replied Alex.

So it goes without saying that Alex improved dramatically in the days
ahead. He certainly did not forget Claude: he remembered him frequently
and on occasion had to shed tears for his friend.  And he felt better
when a week later, Mrs. Dunkle stopped by the house to see him.

She smiled warmly at Alex. "I just wanted to say 'thanks' to you, Alex,
for being such a good friend to my little Claude." The two sat down on
the front porch and visited on this subject. "Now, I know Claude could be
mean when he wanted to, and he liked to tease, but after he got to know
you, Alex, he began to be kinder to everyone.  I don't know what you said
or did, but you were a good influence on Claude, and because of that, and
because you loved him,  I love YOU." and Mrs. Dunkle planted a kiss on
Alex's cheek, which of course made our "Little A" blush.

"And I want you to know, Alex, that things are going pretty good at home
now," she continued. "My husband is staying sober, he has a good job now
and is learning to be a good daddy to our daughter, and you know, before
... well, before the....accident ..." and here she paused and sighed,
"...he and Claude were getting on real good! You know, his dad was taking
him to the movies when they had that awful accident."

Alex could no longer keep quiet.  "Mrs. Dunkle," he said urgently,
"Claude told me something I just gotta ask you.  Did Claude's dad ever
..... well ...... I gotta ask ...... did he ever... well, really HURT
Claude in a.... well .. a nasty way, you know what I mean?"

Mrs. Dunkle looked at Alex with open mouth and a shocked expression. "Do
you mean, did his dad ever MOLEST or abuse Claude?  Oh, my, dear!  No!
Never! Mr. Dunkle would never to anything like that to either of our
kids!  He did get mean when he had been drinking, and he slapped the kids
and me too several times, but that't all!"

"Oh, OK, I just needed to ask!" responded Alex. "I just surely did ..
well, I LOVED Claude, Mrs. Dunkle,  him and Herman are just like brothers
to me... brothers I wish I had had but never did."

"I know that, dear," Mrs. Dunkle continued, smiling. "And we appreciate
it so much.  It was so sweet of you to invite him over to eat with you
that time: my, Claude talked about that at home for so long!" And with
that, Mrs. Dunkle kissed Alex again and departed.

Well, this IS a puzzlement, Alex thought to himself.  Why did Claude lie
about his dad that time in the school restroom? And why did Claude always
act so rough and jack off so violently?  Maybe.. maybe.. and then, Alex
had an insight which would have befit an adult of much more wisdom -- or
maybe it is because Alex WAS a wise little boy -- maybe it was just
Claude's way of getting the attention and affection he needed.   Adults
know that kids will sometime lie about something -- invent imaginary
sexual abuse on the part of an adult, just to get someone to listen to
them.  Alex was puzzled about this, and of course Claude was gone, so he
couldn't ask him the truth -- but in any case, Alex's little-boy mind was
now at ease to know that dear Claude had not suffered sexual abuse at the
hands of his father.  He could rest easy about that now.

And Alex regained his strength and resumed his merry life with Herman.
As the boys grew in stature and knowledge, they indulged their sexual
pleasuring of each other in a carefree and joyful mixture of urinary
inundations which reminded them of the pleasures of infantilsm, and
orgasmic masturbation which reminded them that they were both growing up.


                        ALEX'S FUN (Part 14)

Life is full of bittersweet experiences -- a strange mixture of pleasure 
and pain, of joy and sadness, of good and bad.  And often, the opposites 
overlap so as to make one wonder. 

Alex recuperated well from his traumatic experience in dealing with 
Claude's death.  His little buddy Herman helped him by being there when 
Alex needed consolation and giving Alex something for which to live. But 
there were still difficult times.  Alex would be laughing about some 
funny happening or joke, and with no warning his laughs would turn to 
tears. He would be guffawing one second and weeping wildly the next.  
Herman understood.  He knew Alex so well that he could understand that 
Alex's mind could revert to the sadness over Claude in a moment. But 
Herman was there to hug Alex, to rub cheek-to-cheek with him, to say, 
"Don't cry, Alex buddy. Everything will be all right!" And so, Alex was 
doing all right. Most of the time.

By the following summer, both boys had added stature. Alex now weighed in 
at 125 pounds and was a good 5'7" -- ideal for an almost-13-year-old.  He 
was still sleek in appearance.  His bone structure had gained over his 
muscular development, and he was no longer a "cute little boy" but a cute 
teenager.  His lovely legs had the beginining of a coat of hair, not the 
little-boy fuzz of earlier. He had no chest or armpit hair, but he now 
had a delectable little crop of blond hair surrounding his genitals.  His 
penis had increased in length by almost an inch, making it nearly five 
inches when erect -- and this was fairly often -- when either he 
manipulated it himself or when he thought of Claude or Herman, or some 
other delightfully handsome boy -- or when Herman would arouse him with 
an erotic touch -- and Herman was good at this.

Herman himself was now as tall as Alex.  Although not quite as old as 
Alex, he had had a nice growth spurt during the year and now was able to 
look eye-to-eye with his best friend.  He, too, had developed pubic hair 
and could boast a truly-teenage hard-on at any suggestion of things sexual.

The two had been friends now for six years, and their friendship never 
waned. They were like brothers, always together, and with the blessing of 
Alex's parents, they were free to indulge in mutual eroticism as they 
chose. What an unusually happy arrangement this turned out to be!

Then came summer, and Alex's family had a sad duty to perform.  Alex's 
grandparents -- his mother's parents -- whom Alex knew and loved very 
much, having reached advanced ages, were no longer able to live alone. 
Earlier the previous winter, the grandmother had fallen and so injured 
herself that the grandfather could no longer take care of her; 
reluctantly the two decided to sell their beautiful old home and more 
into a retirement center.  Before the plans could be completed, Alex's 
grandfather had suffered a heart attack and died suddenly.  The moving 
process for the grandmother was therefore doubly painful.  It was the end 
of an era.

It was necessary then for Alex's parents to see to the closing of the 
dear old home place and dispose of the furnishings.  And for this reason, 
Alex and his parents had to be gone from home for two weeks while they 
settled things.

Alex still had his moments of depression and sadness, and being away from 
Herman made it all the worse.  Twice, while they were gone from home, 
Alex had found it necessary to get to some place where he could be alone 
and have a good cry in private.  The family was staying in a hotel while 
they commuted back and forth to the old house and then to the rest home. 
Alex was alone a good deal of the time.

The pressure began to bear heavily on Alex.  One afternoon toward dusk, 
Alex walked the mile from the hotel over to the old home place.  Walking 
up onto the wide front porch, he discovered the door unlocked. He went 
in, not quite knowing why.

Inside, the house was desolate.  All furniture was gone, not even a 
window shade remained.  Alex looked around.  He remembered something -- 
some strange little memory like a firefly in his mind -- something about 
the first time he had come to visit his grandparents in this big, 
beautiful place.

Alex wandered from room to room, his loneliness and desolation complete.  
The tears began to silently flow as he looked in all the familiar places, 
now so barren.  He wandered into the big double doorway that led from the 
dining room into the spacious living room. He remembered vaguely that he 
had been in this spot once before. He remembered that his grandparents 
had just had all of their beautiful hardwood floors refinished and that 
they had shone with beauty.  Now, years later, the varnish was gone, the 
floors were worn and dull, and --- and what? -- Alex remembered a little 
half-memory from when he was only two years old and had been right  in 
that spot.  What was it?  What had happened there?

Then, that little glittering memory came back, and with it, an impulse.  
Alex wished he could revert to his babyhood when things were warm, cuddly 
and safe. And he could.  He remembered what he had done standing right on 
that spot, and now the time had come again.

Without even thinking it through, teenage Alex spread his legs apart as 
he stood in the doorway, relaxed his sphincter and peed in his shorts on 
the hardwood floor just as he had done as an infant.  With his heart 
beating fast, Alex peed and peed until his shorts, legs and even his 
shoes and socks were soaking wet.  He made a gigantic teen-boy puddle on 
the hardwood floor, just as he had done as a little toddler.  

As he finished, he could in his mind's ear hear his mother say, "O little 
A, all over grandmother's new floor!" as she stooped to remove his tiny 
pants, and grandmother coming close with towels to clean up Alex's 
accident -- the accident his penis had created.  His penis - his lovely 
adolescent boy-cock.  And Alex unbuttoned his shorts and masturbated, 
standing in the doorway, massaging his foreskin until he cummed and 
cummed, releasing not only his boy-seed but all his built-up tensions.

Then, without a word, Alex zipped his wet pants back up and departed 
through the front door, leaving his pee puddle for posterity, never to 
return.

Two days later as the family was driving back to their home, Alex sat in 
the back seat of the car saying nothing and counting the minutes until he 
could embrace Herman again and go on with his life.

"Alex, darling, you have been so quiet all this week.  What's hurting 
you?" His mother turned around from the front seat as she spoke.

"I dunno, Mom," Alex muttered.  "I guess I'm just so lonely.  I miss 
Claude still, and when I'm away from Herman, I jusst HURT SSO BAD!" And 
Alex's voice began to tremble.

"Darling," said his mother, "are you sorry you don't have any brothers or 
sisters?  Are you really that lonely?"

Alex had never thought in this light before.  He had assumed that most 
families were this way -- two parents and one kid.  He had never stopped 
to consider that most families have siblings -- several kids that had 
each other to love, to fight with, to cling to, to -- well, just HAVE.

"I -- I guess so, Mom. I kinda like a lot of kids at school, and I love 
Herman like a brother, but, well ..... yes, I wish I weren't a 'lonely 
only.'"  And Alex's voice trembled.

"Well, Alex, I guess maybe it's time for us to talk, then," said his Dad 
from the driver's seat.  "We'd meant to wait a little longer to tell you 
this, but -- well, in about seven months, you are going to have either a 
little baby sister or brother!"

Alex in the back seat of the car gasped. Could it be true? Would he have 
someone else to love him and to love, someone else he could have as "his 
own"?  His mind raced quickly:  he remembered that Herman had two 
brothers and two little sisters, all of whom looked a lot like Herman -- 
they were often a bit shabby, but they had sweet faces like Herman, and 
he knew that Herman loved them dearly ----  he remembered that Claude had 
an older sister, and while he didn't talk about his family much, Alex 
knew that Claude loved his sister. And now, he would have someone his 
own! What a wonderful gift.

"Gosh, Mom!  That's so great!" and Alex in a burst of spontaneous joy, 
poured out his tears of happiness, as his mother turned around and hugged 
him.

And, as the trip continued into the darkness of night, Alex lay on the 
back seat of the car, thought blissfully about the forthcoming blessed 
event, and, quietly stroking himself within his shorts, in the cover of 
darkness, poured out another liquid of happiness into his waiting hands.


                     ALEX'S FUN -- Part 15

We will now take literary license and skip over six months or so of 
Alex's life.  By this time, he was thirteen years old and continuing to 
increase in stature.  Alex was not a big-boned person: he came from 
"small stock" and, although always beautifully proportioned, he never 
grew to beyond five feet nine inches.  Girls in his classes in middle 
school looked at Alex with approbation: he had a little-boy look about 
his countenance that brought out the "mother" instinct in even those 
teen-age girls.  Alex got alone fine with everyone in his class -- both 
male and female.  He was well-liked by nearly everyone.  

As time passed and the idea that he was soon to be a big brother to a 
little someone became part of his thought processes, the pain he had 
suffered the previous year subsided -- somewhat, but not entirely.  He 
had learned that life does indeed go on, and one cannot grieve forever, 
even for a dearly loved friend.  He had something to which he was looking 
forward. He would soon have a little person to love and admire -- someone 
who could --- replace?  -- well, no -- Alex conceded -- no one could ever 
replace his lost pal Claude.  But he could love him in perhaps a 
different way.  Alex thought about this a lot, and Alex was content.

He of course continued in his love for dear Herman, the boy with the dark 
complexion and deep, searching eyes, his friend of many years who had 
become like a part of Alex himself.  His feelings for Herman continued 
to be as a brother, as a lover, as a vital extension of himself. The two 
were still, in eighth grade, inseparable. 

Alex told Herman about his forthcoming role as a big brother.  Herman did 
not react as joyfully as Alex had when his parents informed him.  "It's 
OK to have brothers 'n sisters, I guess," deliberated Herman.  We have a 
whole passel of kids at our house, you know," he said, "and, well, 
sometimes we jes' about have enough to get by."  Alex had known that dear 
Herman had only received a new pair of socks and blue jeans for 
Christmas, and, O yes, his parents had been able to afford underwear for 
each of the boys by now!   No longer did they have to share clothes.  But 
their house was still the only unpainted one in that part of town. 
Herman's parents actually owned an old black and white television and 
they had a phone, but they could not afford a car. Several times their 
electricity had been cut off because of lack of money to pay the bill. 
The neighbors had quietly taken up a collection once or twice to help 
them out, sending it anonymously to the power company.

"Those poor Harbergers have a struggle," Alex's mom had once said; and 
for the first time, Alex knew what Herman's last name was!  They had been 
lovers and pals for seven years now, and Alex just now found out that.  
Herman's dad was a good man, but he was uneducated and could only hold 
jobs such as handyman, occasional janitor or day laborer, and although 
much love was evidenced in their poor shack, they did indeed have a struggle.

But Herman, although a bit dubious about having many children, was happy 
for Alex. "Now you will have a REAL brother!" his little black eyes 
looked cheerful as he gave Alex a hug.

Alex and Herman continued their physical sharing of each other quite 
frequently. However Alex may have felt toward others -- however well 
adjusted he was and however much the girls in his school thought he was 
"cute," Alex still loved Herman, body and soul, and they shared their 
mutual orgasmic activities within the confines of Alex's bedroom on more 
or less a weekly basis.  Alex longed for and gratefully received Herman's 
boyhood in his own hands and in his own mouth. Through experience he had 
long known how to prolong that overwhelming climax of boy-sex feelings 
for Herman, orally manipulating Herman's stiffy for as much as a half 
hour, and finally causing Herman to writhe in the throes of a 
long-awaited and blissful surge of orgasm. And Herman would reciprocate, 
sometimes simultaneously, sometimes after or before, and would gladly 
knead Alex's perfect penis and testicles with his tongue, until Alex 
would raise his torso off the bed and pulsate with delicious agony as 
Herman would deliver him of his semen.  On other occasions, the boys 
would manipulate each other manually, retracting each other so slowly 
that the increased climaxings were deliciously tantalizing and sweet 
beyond belief.  Then the two would speak those words of adoration they 
felt for each other before falling into a perfect sleep in the embrace 
each of the other.

Alex and Herman on occasion indulged in their watersports activities, 
sometimes wetting the bed as had long been their pleasure: they would 
giggle and become as little children as one would "play-threaten" to 
"piss in your face," as they actually did sometimes.  Additionally, they 
would, as the summer approached, take these unorthodox playtime 
activities outside and fool around in public places.  

Usually this was fine.  They had a shaded grove in the city park known to 
themselves, and in hot weather they loved to go there and indulge in 
peeing in their clothes, on each other, or whatever variation they 
wanted. Then they would roll on the ground in mock-wrestling and 
consummate this with other sexual delights.

One July afternoon, the boys were so engaged and had just begun to 
unburden their bladders when their play was interrupted by a loud shout.

"Hey, you little shit-brains!  Look at you!  What're you doing?  You 
stupid, dumb fairies!" and from behind came an older boy, one the two 
knew only by sight and reputation, from the ninth grade.

"Well, isn't this a cute sight?!" sneered the boy.  "Wadda we have here? 
A couple of little piss-pants, I DO believe!  Wassa matter, did mommie 
forget to put on your didies?" and the big bully, whose name was Ronnie, 
came up to the two boys who by now were standing in the pathway, huge wet 
spots in their crotches, and began to shove and push little Herman, who 
was too overcome to say a word.

Harder and harder Ronnie pushed Herman with his continual barrage of 
contempt. "Mommie's little babies have an AC-cident?" he chided, "can't 
little boys hold back their pee-pee?!" and by now, Ronnie had shoved 
Herman onto the dirt path and put his huge foot in the middle of Herman's 
groin and moved as if to step on him.

"You! Leave my friend alone!" shrieked Alex who by now had regained 
his dignity. And skinny little peaceful Alex, who had never hit a boy 
before in his life, sailed into the bully Ronnie with all his might and 
main, knocking the older boy off-guard onto the ground and onto his back.

Alex launched into Ronnie with both fists flying like pittman rods. By 
this time, Herman had likewise regained his composure, and the two boys 
sailed into the older one with the fury of a pack of Rotweilers.

Fists flew, legs kicked, and the older bully-boy was short-winded in no 
time.

"How DARE you hurt my friend, you miserably bully?!" screamed Alex.  And 
then, as if driven by a mad inspiration, Alex pulled down his shorts, 
exposed his boyhood which by now was semi-erect, and remembering a camp 
experience he had had two years earlier, turned on his tormenter. 

"You - - you - - miserable asshole!" This was the dirtiest word Alex 
knew.  He had never developed the bad habit of profaning the name of the 
Lord, even in his most righteous anger. "You miserable, stinking 
shit-hole!  Drink my pee!  Drink it. DRINK IT!"  And quiet, placid little 
Alex thrust his boy-prick in Ronnie's face and peed on his nose!  Herman, 
meanwhile, had jumped on top of Ronnie's legs and was straddling him so 
that Ronnie had no recourse but to lie there thrashing around on the dirt 
ground, with his mouth open to gasp for air, as Alex filled him with 
boy-piss.  Herman, too, joined in, unzipped his little shorts and added a 
boy-stream onto Ronnie's legs and torso.  He even, in a moment of mad 
levity, took off Ronnie's sneakers and pissed into them.

Quite depleted of urine, the two boys stood up as Ronnie, crying by now 
and red-faced, stood up, shook himself off, turned around, gagged, and 
regurgitated his last meal, plus the drink he had received from Alex, 
onto the ground.

"You little punks!  I'm gonna tell on you!" he roared, as he trotted off, 
holding his piss-drenched shoes in one hand.

But neither Alex nor Herman were worried about this. What could Ronnie 
say: "...I was shoving these little boys around in the woods and they 
peed on me....?"  Well, no---- not really. So nothing was ever heard from 
Ronnie about this experience. Alex and Herman danced for joy that they 
had stood up to their tormenter.  Arm in arm they went home together.

"See ya tomorrow," said Alex as he paused briefly outside Herman's poor 
home. "Yeah," said Herman. "Oh, by the way, I just oughta tell you, my 
Dad thinks he's found a reg'lar job over in Hillsdale, so I dunno what's 
gonna happen to us.  Just wanted you to know."

A quick wave of apprehension filled Alex's gut.  What if ----   oh, but 
Herman couldn't leave! No, his lover and pal Herman would ALWAYS be there 
for him, wouldn't he?  When they got a little older and out of school, 
well, Alex had thought they could just move in together somewhere and 
become a sort of family, maybe -- just the two of them?  They'd never 
marry. they'd be there for each other always, all their lives, and.....

But he couldn't think more about that right now. Nothing could happen to 
them, they were invincible, right?

"OK, friend," said Alex, "just keep me posted."  And with a hug, Alex 
headed on home, looking back to wave as his dear friend Herman stood on 
his weary doorstep and waved fondly after his best, his VERY best 
playmate, confidante, lover, and the object of his physical longings.

When Alex got home, no one was there. A sign met him on the kitchen table.

"Mom's gone to the hospital," the note read.  "Baby coming now-- early.  
Stay home, food in fridge. I'll call you tonight. Love, Dad."

For a brief time, everything left Alex's mind except the fact: by now, he 
was probably a BIG BROTHER!

The phone call came at 7:30.   It was Dad. "You've got a little baby 
brother, Alex!" Dad almost shouted the news.  Alex wondered what all the 
people in the hospital waiting room thought when they heard Dad yelling 
that wonderful news into the pay phone.  "I'll come get you as soon as I 
can!"

Alex was too elated to go to the fridge for anything to eat.  He did have 
enough presence of mind to take off his peed-in shorts, dump them into 
the laundry hamper and dress himself in fresh, dry pants.

At about 8 p.m., Dad arrived home. Alex was aleady sitting out front on 
the porch waiting.  In he got, and in another fifteen minutes the two 
were walking along the corridor to see Mom in her private room.

There, lying next to Mom, was this newborn stranger. A little wisp of 
redness tucked into a tiny blanket and wiggling its little fingers and 
toes. Mom was so happy. "Do you love your little brother?" "O, YES!" 
exclaimed Alex with the joy of one who has just unwrapped a beautiful 
gift. "O Mom.." and Alex wept tears of joy, leaning on his mother's 
breast and hugging her and the newborn, while Dad tearfully smiled.

"Can I see him better?" Alex wanted to get a better look.  So Mom pulled 
back the blanket to expose the little newborn in his seemilgly huge 
diaper. Alex's mind did a flashback to a joke Claude had told him once. 
Claude had locked the fingers of his two hH51_NNNNNNNNNands together and 
closed his 
fists at the wrists.  Then he had said to Alex, "C'mon, now, open the 
diaper," and at his bequest, Alex had pried Claude's hand open, exposing 
his middle finger pointing straight up.

"Piss on ya! Baby pee in your face!" Claude had laughed, and the two boys 
had guffawed together at this little joke.

Mom carefully unpinned the now wet diaper as Alex looked to see what the 
baby had. Sure enough, it was a little brother.  The little darling had a 
prick which seemed to Alex to be grossly oversized for so tiny a human 
being, and it was indeed erect, and indeed, the baby smiled its little 
infant smile and peed in Alex's face! Just like when Alex was born and 
the doctor had said, "He has perfect kidneys!"

Alex wiped his face on his sleeve. Then he looked deep into his mother's 
eyes.

"Mom.." he hesitated,  "Mom, please do just one thing for me, PLEASE!  
Won'chat please name him ....Claude?  For me?"  And Alex's eyes were 
moist.  What greater gift could he ask for his darling little baby 
brother than to have him named after one of his two dearest friends. And 
this way, Claude would live on, somehow...

"O, darling!  Parents exchanged glances and smiles. "Of course!  
Remember, we loved him, too, and now it can go on..." and Alex was again 
enveloped in embraces and love.  The world was his again, for a time.


                ALEX'S FUN -- Part 16 (b/b/ws)

Alex adored his new baby brother Claude.  He never called him by name 
without a nostalgic twang for his departed friend.  It had now been over 
a year since big Claude had been killed -- Claude who would now be nearly 
fifteen years old!  But time heals wounds, however slowly.  Alex had come 
to terms with death and was confident that his pal was safe in God's 
heaven. 

And it gave Alex a great deal of satisfaction to know that his own baby 
brother was Claude's namesake.  Since had loved big Claude so dearly, now 
he transferred that love to little Claude.  Once since the baby had come, 
Mrs. Dunkle had come over to see it.  She was a large woman who walked 
with some difficulty, but she walked over to Alex's house nevertheless 
and asked to see the infant.

"Alex, honey, I appreciate it tremendously that you liked my Claude so 
much that you named your brother after him," she said. "That's about as 
high a compliment as anyone can pay a person!"  Alex was pleased. He had 
come to think of Mrs. Dunkle as a kindly, loving woman, patient beyond 
all expectations, who had been a good mother in spite of problems at 
home. But now things were better.

And, of course, Alex was much too polite to tell Mrs. Dunkle how big 
Claude had been his tormentor at camp that one summer, that Claude had 
introduced him to masturbation more or less (although Alex knew down deep 
that he was already on the way to discovering it before that camp 
thing), but   but he did mention to Mrs. Dunkle that he and Claude had 
"enjoyed doing lotsa fun things together." That was telling the truth.

Alex was very much aware of his feelings of boy-love.  Some of his 
classmates had begun to talk in terms of girl-friends.  Alex, too, 
enjoyed being around the girls in his class -- after all, he, too, was 
now approaching 15 years of age.  He even took one or two to the 
chaperoned school dances -- nothing exciting -- just little after-school 
soirees where everyone drank punch and waddled around the dance floor 
with a girl.  It was not really dating -- rather just socializing. Down 
deep, Alex knew that he loved boys more than girls.  He loved to look at 
his classmates when they stripped down for gym.  Alex himself was still a 
thinnish, well-proportioned lad with absolutely beautiful legs, still 
largely hairless -- a slender frame and those captivating blue eyes. His 
manhood was of normal proportions for a boy his age -- probably five 
inches when erect -- with the beautiful foreskin still covering the 
well-shaped head, the shape of which was clearly visible through the 
veined skin.  Those who have seen Michaelangelo's "David" will know the 
beauty of such a perfectly shaped organ.

It was not surprising then, that Alex delighted in the responsibility of 
taking care of little Claude from time to time.  This meant baby-sitting. 
Alex loved to hug Claude in his arms, to give him his bottle, to change 
his diapers. It did not particularly please Alex on those rare occasions 
when Claude spit up his feeding onto Alex's shirt or even his lap; Alex 
had always despised those rare occasions when he had been sick and had 
vomited disgustingly into the toilet with his mother gently holding his 
head and trying to soothe him, or even once or twice when he barfed on 
the floor next to his bed in the middle of the night.  But Alex was aware 
that spitting up was more or less normal.  He was able to do the cleanup 
with no help.  

But what Alex loved was the task of removing Claude's wet diaper, holding 
it up to his face and inhaling the scent of little Claude's pee.  Urine 
had always been a turn-on for Alex, so when he was required to change his 
baby brother, he made the most of it.  He would take a wash cloth and 
gently wash and wipe dry Claude's little bottom and surrounding area. The 
baby powder was next, and once or twice Alex took hold of the tiny prick 
in his fingers and ran the miniscule foreskin back to look at the tiny, 
cute head.  When he did this, he would always bend down and touch his 
tongue to the cocklet, which caused baby Claude to giggle in his baby 
way. Having done this, Alex would pin the new diaper on Claude and hug 
him mightily before returning him to his playpen.

Then, as often as not, Alex would find himself painfully erect and would 
seek relief. So urgently erotic was this diaper-changing experience for 
Alex that he sometimes jacked himself off right there in his pants.  His 
breathing would be heavy, his heartbeat fast, and Alex often came with 
such volume and force that he would find his sperm dripping out his 
shorts onto his legs or the floor.  Once he even ejaculated spontaneously 
without ever touching himself.

Yes, Alex was reaching the zenith of his sexual powers even as he 
approached the age of fifteen.  To deny himself a daily orgasm was to 
invite a nervous stomach, a headache, or an irritable disposition.  And 
so it was that he looked forward more than ever to those times when he 
could meet his pal Herman so that they could do their boy-love things to 
each other.  After nearly seven years of deep friendship, the two never 
tired of lying down together, stroking each other first on the temple and 
neck, and then gradually "teasing" each other with strokes on the legs, 
working upward into their inner thighs, and finally culminating with the 
soft stroking of each others' prick, accompanied by soft spoken words of 
affection intermingled with moans of delight.

They had learned to make these sessions longer and longer.  It was not 
uncommon for their love-making to take close to an hour.  Gentle sexual 
massage followed by cessation, a period of simply lying quietly together, 
then resuming, O so slowly, and at the end, helping each other reach a 
starburst of unspeakable orgasmic joy.

The day came when Alex felt the desire to enter Herman.  The reader will 
recall that Alex and big Claude never had anal intercourse: Alex felt it 
was degrading and could not imagine putting his penis into the asshole of 
another guy.  But as he and Herman grew in their mutual affection, this 
desire began to make itself known to Alex.

The boys never discussed it as Claude had with Alex.  One Saturday night, 
Herman was lying nude on his stomach on the bed at Alex's house.  Alex 
was gently massaging Herman's back, running the heel of his hand up and 
down Herman's pointy little spine.  This time, Alex allowed his hand to 
slide down to Herman's little opening.  O so gently, Alex began to insert 
his index finger into that little oriface until his first knuckle was 
iniside. He had no idea what the response would be from Herman.

"Oh....... mmmmmmmm.." Herman moaned. "O Alex, buddy, do that again!  
Wow, it feels good when you do that!"  

Alex's pulse quickened. "Do you really like that, buddy?"

"O God, yes!" sighed Herman.

With no further conversation, Alex reached for the jar of vaseline which 
he had kept near his bed for some time now.  He has long-since learned 
that it was delightful to retract his foreskin and smear a dab of this 
ointment up and down, thus making his jacking-off sessions even more 
joyful. Now, Alex took the jelly and smoothed it upon his penis and into 
Herman's waiting anus.

Then slowly, very slowly, perhaps millimeter by millimeter, Alex 
penetrated Herman.  Gliding up Herman's back, Alex gently urged his 
turgid penis past the muscular little sphincter, and then, ever so gently 
in, in, in, until he had entered Herman fully.  Then, still with no talk 
between the two in this near-sacred moment, Alex began to thrust gently 
up and down, still keeping his face tightly pressed to the back of 
Herman's neck, his legs atop those of Herman.  Up and down, up and down, 
slowly, Alex fucked his dearest, most beloved boy-friend.

Herman groaned with delight.  There was no pain in this encounter, so 
gentle was Alex's action.  Alex began to sigh and breathe even harder.  
It was about ten minutes later that Alex whispered into Herman's ear, 
"I'm gonna come in a little bit; do you want me to pull it out?

"O God, no!" whispered back Herman.  Keep it coming. Give me everything 
you can, buddy, I want it so bad!"  And so it was that Alex came: his 
ejaculations lasted more than a minute as he pumped his boy-sperm into 
his best friend again and again.

And when the boys did a turnabout,  little Herman, following suit, 
greased his beautiful penis, already damp with the luster of his own 
pre-cum, and entered Alex with no pain to either.  "I love you, buddy, 
and I will always love you!" Herman said.  And when his own moment of 
ecstasy came and he flooded Alex's gut with his boy-stuff, it was indeed 
that the two had become as one.

The afterglow lasted another half hour, and at last, both boys, totally 
depleted and relaxed, fell asleep in each others' arms as they had so 
many times before.

And Alex loved it.

The following Monday, Alex was running a fever.  He felt a general 
malaise and slight sickness of the stomach.  His mother allowed him to 
stay home, providing he would stay in bed, and so Alex missed a day of 
school.  This was all right: Alex made good grades and could afford to 
miss one day.  He alternatly watched TV, ate lightly, read, and played 
with his penis under the sheet, remembering his good time with Herman the 
previous weekend. Alex came three times in the bed in the course of the 
day. He was careful to wipe his boy-stuff off of the sheets each time.

Tuesday he was feeling better and felt able to return to school. After 
all, he would get to see Herman again!  But first, he would run by 
Herman's house and maybe they could walk to school together.  Alex 
started out in high spirits.

As he approached Herman's rundown shack, he realized that not all was 
normal. There were no sounds coming from the house: there were no lights 
within.  The little brothers and sisters were nowhere in sight.

Alex's stomach began to churn.  What is going on? he thought.   Alex came 
close to the house and called out, "Herman!!"  No answer.  Alex went up 
and peered in the dirty front window.

The sight that greeted Alex turned his heart to a cold stone.  There was 
nothing in the house!  Absolutely nothing!  The house was totally empty.  
There was dust in a corner where the old creaky metal bedstead where 
Herman and his two brothers slept had stood -- the smelly old bed into 
which one or more of the Harberger boys peed nightly. The shades were all 
up high.  Their telephone, which had sat on a little table by the door 
now sat forlornly on the floor.

Alex swallowed hard and turned from this grievous sight.  He ran as fast 
as his beautiful boy-legs could carry him from Herman's to school.  The 
moment he entered the room gasping and panting, his teacher,  Mrs. 
Daniels, looked up from her desk.

"We missed you yesterday, Alex," she said pleasantly. "Sorry to hear you 
were sick."

"PLEASE, Mrs. Daniels," Alex almost pleaded,"What's happened to Herman?  
I went by his house and it's empty!"

"O yes," replied his teacher, still pleasantly, "Mr. Harberger has been 
counting on a good job in Hillsdale for some time now, and suddenly it 
came through! This weekend, yet.  The family had to grab it to get it, so 
they checked out of school yesterday and left immediately. Can't turn 
down a good job these days, you know!"

Alex's brain began to spin. Gone?! His beloved Herman, gone?! Just like 
that!  Alex could not absorb this at once.  He turned pale, the blood 
rushing from his brain.

"Alex, is something wrong? Are you all right?"  his teacher was worried. 
Alex did not hear the last of this sentence as he slumped to the 
classroom floor in a dead faint.


NOTE:  This is the final chapter of our story.  It has been a month in 
coming as I have been on vacation. So here's an apology to those of you 
who thought I intended to leave poor Alex in a dead faint on the 
schoolroom floor.

                   ALEX'S FUN, Part 17 

The news that Herman and his family had moved away without telling him 
was a horrible shock to Alex.  The poor boy passed out on the floor of 
the classroom when his teacher informed him of the Harbergers' move to 
Hillsdale, a town about thirty miles from where Alex lived. The teacher 
called for the school nurse to come, and together they revived Alex, 
helped him to the Health Room where he lay for quite some time until he 
was strong enough to go home.  His mother came for him in the car, too 
weak was Alex to walk the eight blocks to his house. 

"Alex has had a fever," she explained to the nurse, "and I guess he was 
just not quite over it yet."

Alex went home to bed, where he stayed the rest of the day.  Remembering 
how sick he had been following the death of big Claude, Alex did not want 
another bout with chronic depression.  He remembered something his father 
had said when Claude was killed. 

"Relations change all the time," his dad had told him. "Life is full of 
getting and losing.  You will find out, Alex, that we can't hold onto 
friends by force.  Some time, somehow, our relations with our friends are 
broken, by death, or by changes.  Just be glad you had Claude for a 
friend and be happy with the memories."

Alex remembered this now, and although he was infinitely sad, he told 
himself: "Herman warned me that they might move. Now they have. That 
doesn't mean that we aren't stil best-friends. And O, how I miss him!" 
and the tears flowed quietly as Alex lay on his back in his bed.

And all the memories of the years came back: Alex's first spark of 
sympathy for little Herman in the first grade when the poor tyke got sick 
all over the floor; the first time they slept together when Herman peed 
in the bed and their first bonding experience of orgasm occurred; the 
time at camp when the two hugged and embraced in the bunk together; the 
time not long past when Alex defended Herman against a bully; these and 
other vivid memories came swirling back.  And spontaneously, Alex reached 
under the sheet and slowly masturbated himself to a wet ejaculation as he 
said to himself, or rather to his departed buddy, "I miss you and I'll 
always love you, Pal!"

So life went on.  It has to go on.  Alex continued to do his best in 
school: when the old loneliness crept out of its box and began to haunt 
Alex (as it often did at odd times,) Alex would remind himself that 
Herman was probably better off now in their new home. And after all, that 
was what he wanted for his best friend.

It hurt for a long time.  Of course, it got better; no one can grieve 
constantly.  Alex kept busy in school; he had other friends, both boys 
and girls, good friends, but no one exactly like Herman.

And Herman's words rang true: "You'll have a real brother," Herman had 
said. And Alex did.  He loved his darling little brother Claude.  He 
enjoyed seeing him begin to crawl, then to walk, then to talk. It seemed 
like no time till little Claude was two years old, and Alex was now 
sixteen.

Alex no longer had to change diapers since Claude was past that stage.  
He was pretty well "potty trained." At two, Claude had few accidents.  He 
was adorably cute; Alex thought so, his parents thought so, and likewise 
all their relatives thought so.  Alex still enjoyed bathing little 
Claude. He loved to lather and soap up the little guy.  He got a thrill 
out of showing little Claude how to pull his little pink foreskin back 
and wash his little pricklet, which little Claude obviously enjoyed 
doing.  Alex would sometimes get very hard in his pants when doing this, 
and quite often he would need to go somewhere to jack off after seeing 
Claude's tiny organ pointing upward when he would dry him off after the bath.

A funny thing happened that summer which reminded Alex of something from 
his own babyhood.  There was a wedding of a male cousin in Alex's 
family, and the inlaws begged to have the boys take part.  Alex, at 
seventeen, was handsome, beautiful of face, sweet of disposition, and the 
perfect "best man" for his cousin.  And of course, little Claude had to 
be the ring-bearer!

Claude was able to talk by this time.  He was so proud he was going to 
carry "the wing on a piwwow" up for his cousin in the big church with the 
pretty windows and the black marble floor. They rehearsed the wedding 
without any incident, and both Claude and big Brother Alex were happy.

The wedding ceremony itself went on and on.  Many songs, many prayers, 
many vows to be recited.  As time wore on, after a half hour, little 
Claude began to get restless.  As the procedings continued, little Claude 
began to shift from one foot to the other.  And as the nuptials seemed to 
take forever, little Claude's free hand went to his tiny crotch as he 
held on for dear life to his little pee-pee in his tiny matching tuxedo.

Still the ceremony dragged on and on and on.  Without batting an eye or 
saying a word, litle Claude solemnly and inconspicuously deposited a 
large pee-puddle onto the black marble floor in the front of the altar.  

Only big brother Alex caught sight of this out of the corner of his eye 
as the ceremony ground to its conclusion.  Alex could hardly contain his 
mirth that his little brother had pissed his pants, just as he himself 
had done once at grandmother's house long ago. The puddle went otherwise 
unnoticed as the bridal party hurried up the aisle.  Only after all was 
done, and Alex came over that little dear Claude, ringing wet right down 
into his little black shoes, said, "Awex, I did a pee-pee in my pants."  
Alex laughed, grabbed his little brother up and gave him a bear-hug, so 
that the front of his own rented tux got very damp.  "Never mind, 
Claudie," he said, "it happened to me when I was your age." 

And of course, Alex could hardly wait to get out of his clothes when he 
got home so that he could stroke himself and remember his wet times, 
especially those with Herman.  

It was now late summer.  Alex's parents needed to make a business trip 
out of town together, and since Alex was responsible, they left him alone 
at home, taking little Claude with them.

"We know you will take care of everything the two days we're gone," they 
said with confidence; and Alex agreed with them.

That night, just as Alex was preparing to retire, he heard a knock on the 
door.  Being cautious, he peeked out the window to behold a shadowy 
figure standing there. It looked like -- oh, no -- how could it be?

Alex turned on the outside light and threw open the door.

"O my God, Herman!" he shouted, tears jetting from his eyes.

True!  There stood his beloved best friend, looking a bit older, looking 
very tired, but with the same sweet little-boy face Alex had always 
remembered.

The two fell into each other's arms in a long embrace.

That dear boy Herman, so lonely for his friend, had walked and 
hitch-hiked the thirty miles from his home to Alex's town.  It had taken 
him all day to come that distance.

"Oh, Alex! Alex!" and Herman began to shed tears both of relief and joy. 
"I've missed you so much all this year!" And as the boys entered the 
house, the story poured out.  Herman's dad had indeed gotten a good job; 
it was absolutely necessary that they go that very day if he wanted the 
work. There was no way Herman had time to tell Alex, who had been home 
sick from school.  He was checked out of school immediately, and the 
family hurriedly packed up their belongings and somehow managed to hire a 
U-Haul to move them.

"Oh, pal, I've thought about you every day since we left!" Herman sobbed. 

"Me too!" said Alex. "Oh, I love you so much!" and the two embraced again 
as they headed up the stairs toward Alex's room.

Need I say that these two best-friends wasted no time in expressing their 
love in the ways they knew best.  Shedding their clothing they lay 
together the entire night in a firm, caressing embrace, and as they 
became more relaxed, they silently began thrusting, manually caressing 
each others' penises, then tasting with delight those same organs, and 
later on, entering each other.  It was a night filled with orgasmic bliss.

Later they talked about their feelings.  One cannot comfortably intrude 
into their intimate conversation well here, but they agreed that their 
love was forever, that they would always remember each other and never 
forget that which meant so much to them.  And that whenever they could, 
they would seek each other and be friends for the rest of their lives.

With this assurance, Alex was able to bid farewell when Herman needed to 
leave at the end of the second day. Alex gave Herman the bus fare so that 
he would not have to walk or hitch-hike home.

And so it was.  The two were inextricably bonded as lifelong friends.

At the end of "Tom Sawyer," Mark Twain noted that it was time to end the 
story because otherwise it would cease to be about boys and would become 
a story about men.  So it is with this story.  We cannot continue to keep 
Alex and Herman young forever. So what can we say about them? What can we 
project for their futures?

As their "creator," I would long for them all to "live happily ever 
after" and to be happy adults.   I cannot see, and would not want them to 
spend their lives as homosexual lovers, although as with so many real 
people, this can be a happy memory as one pursues a fuller life.

I project the following (and I hope you readers are happy with this.) 
Both Alex and Herman will graduate from their schools in another year or 
so. They will keep in touch: they will go their separate ways but will 
still be bonded by their love.  Both will marry.  Herman will have four 
children, three boys and a girl.  He will name one of them Alex.

Alex will have the satisfaction of being a mentor to his little Claude.  
He will constantly see his deceased friend Big Claude in his adored 
little brother, who will likewise grow up to be a handsome, well-endowed 
beautiful boy who will live life to the fullest and enjoy the pleasures 
of the senses.  

Alex will marry.  He will become the father of three children, two girls 
and a boy. And of course he will name one of them Herman.  For after all, 
even though he will love his wife and entire family dearly, in those 
moments of high sexual pleasuring with his wife, when those children are 
conceived, at the moment of the mind-shattering, explosive, joyous 
orgasmic happening, Alex's mind will quickly shift and his 
ejaculation-fantasy will be of his first Love, his cherished Herman.

                         THE END

(Hope you liked it. Comments welcome.)

"Hugger"

From: an164453@anon.penet.fi (Hugger)
Reply-To: an164453@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sun,  3 Mar 1996 16:56:42 UTC
Subject: Followup on "Alex"

I have had a lot of replies to "Alex" -- 90% or more positive, one or two 
of them flames.  Thanks to those who enjoyed it and took the time to say 
so, and to those two who did not, maybe you should read somewhere else on 
the Net. 

I appreciate my friends who made the posting of the story possible (I do 
not have an account myself so depend on someone to forward it for me. 
Sorry, I let the name of my forwarders appear on the Ch.17 repost.)  
Anyhow, some have asked, "Is this true? Are YOU Alex?"

The first answer is yes-and-no.  Most stories of fiction involve 
something that someone actually experienced, but there is a certain 
amount of exaggeration and embellishment.  The second answer is NO, I am 
NOT Alex, but something of Alex lives in me.
 
Truth is, I am a married man with kids/grandchildren. We are from the 
U.S. Midwest. 

If you are bored with knowing how Alex came into being, push the button 
now and get into something more to your taste.  But if you would like to know
what is real and what isn't, read on.

CHAPT. 1:  Alex as a baby:  Alex pees on grandmother's floor and likes it:
           I remember seeing a toddler do this when I was very small. 
           Made an impression on me I've never forgotten, especially
           the mother's reaction.
CHAPT. 2:  Very autobiographical! I remember dreaming and wetting the bed
           (only time) when I was about 4. In school I had a nervous bladder
           and dreaded the possibility of peeing in my pants in the 
           classroom. Never did.  Kid urped on the floor near me and I found
           it very upsetting. Part about deliberate wetting is absolute
           fiction!
CHAPT. 3:  Mostly fiction.  The accident in the movie was real, but it did
           not happen to me!  The naughty little boys pissing on the school
           toilet floor is real: my classmates used to delight in doing that.
CHAPT. 4:  All fiction.  I never had a sleepover pal at that age, and if I
           had, we would never have dared wet the bed on purpose or fool
           around that way.  Sorry!
CHAPT. 5:  A good bit of truth here. The Dixie Cup episode really 
           in a school of which I  am acquainted. Sadly, the description
           of Herman's poverty is based on a student I once taught: truly,
           he shared his underpants with his brothers, and we did take up
           a collection for him. The camp episode is about 50% true; I went
           to YMCA camp at age 11, and yes, we had a tough kid like Claude
           in our cabin; but he was always nice to me and I liked him. His]
           real name was Clifford, and I can see him yet.  He did not do the
           mean things "Claude" did, but he did enjoy peeing on the other 
           boys when they were naked, and he did share some j/o experiences
           with the older kids in the bunks when the cabin leader was away.
CHAPT. 6:  Yes, I learned a lot about "life" at camp, and the descriptions
           of my first masturbation are about as written here.  The camp
           initiation is about as described here also. I was the one who
           got the raw egg in my mouth.
CHAPT. 7:  Mostly fiction. Sad to say, the rubdown episode never happened 
           to me (how I wish!) The Trick-or-Treat was based on a teen 
           experience of mine when I pissed into someone's front door
           one night when trying to collect for the newspaper route and
           they were not home.
CHAPT. 8:  I vividly remember the wet dream I had about a friend, mostly
           as described here. I was 13. The part about Claude in the
           school bathroom is pure makeup.
CHAPT. 9:  Stricly out of my own imagination, all of it.
CHAPT. 10: Again, mostly fiction; except that the description of 
           disfuncational families is based on things I learned
           while a school teacher.
CHAPT.11:  I wept as I wrote some of this -- sheer maudlin sentimentality.
           But the boy about whom I dreamed (Chapt. 8) did die from an
           accidental gunshot wound in his home some years later.
CHAPT. 12: Relax.  None of this really happened. It would be just too 
           horrible for a child to experience this so traumatically.
           The anecdote about the nun and masturbating in class is vaguely
           based on something I heard about years ago, true or false, I do
           not know.  To some extent, I was influenced by the tragic
           funeral scene in the movie "My Girl."
CHAPT. 13: 90% fiction.  'Nuf said.
CHAPT. 14: Based on some second-hand memories about death in the family
           and having to sell the old home place.  What happened in the 
           story was not autobiographical, although I do recall that
           as a w.s. fetish person, the relation between self-pissing
           and orgasm was always very close.
CHAPT. 15: Episode with the bully never happened. Neither the little
           brother: I never had one :-(  The little joke about the baby's
           diaper was told me very recently by a precocious 8-year-old
           friend.
CHAPT. 16: Although this expresses my adolescent feelings regarding sex,
           the actions here are purely imaginary. The sadness upon
           seeing Herman's abandoned house are from a distant memory
           told me by a friend whose neighbor had moved unexpectedly.
CHAPT. 17: Based on my own recollections of times when friends I loved
           had moved away or left me in loneliness. Very painful memories.
           The anecdote about baby Claude in the wedding ceremony really
           happened to a tot in a Chicago church wedding some time ago --
           a huge puddle during the ceremony!
           My own predictions at the ending are as I said: not being 
           "gay" myself, I did not want Alex or Herman to make that 
           a lifestyle but rather wanted to show that such love as these
           imaginary kids shared could be very meaningful, even as they
           go on to marriage and families of their own. I can vouch that
           this *really does happen.*

"Hugger"