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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © Aestivator 2012. This work may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. They are productions of the author's fevered imagination and used fictitiously.
This work contains sexual acts performed by minors. Please check your conscience and the law before you proceed.
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A List Of My Stories (Up To The Date Of Creation Of This Document) is shown at the bottom of the page (along with the author’s note).
About this Story
There is a prequel to this story: (young-friends/growing-intimacy). I think you can understand most of the story even without reading it.
Third part of the story here. I hope you all have a nice Christmas!
22 Dec 2012
CHAPTER 3 – GROWING
According to Joel, what happened with Max in that tent wasn’t sex. But frankly, it was already the best thing that I’d ever experienced with another human being.
The better part of it was that when I thought of Joel, it didn’t hurt as much. Today was the day Max was going to sleep over, and we were going to have the whole weekend to ourselves. I missed Max’s lips and all his erotic features, but I missed Max as a person more. Every night I slept, I wished he would be right beside me. Every night I slept, I couldn’t help but picture us hugging, cuddling and loving on the bed. Every night I slept, I imagined us whispering loving words into each other’s ear under the blanket.
Tonight, it would come all true. Hopefully.
Max came over at three. It was a rather dull afternoon. Earlier on the beach we counted the number of people; today we counted raindrops impinging the Earth, without success indeed. In the end we decided it was movie time.
I wasn’t even sure if we had movies DVDs in our house. We just sat there blankly staring at the television screen in the living room, kind of waiting for the rain to stop so we could head for the beach. Then my Mum got this Oscar Collection package with a few movies in it – last year’s Oscar contenders.
“Aren’t Oscar-winning movies the boring ones?” asked Max in a monotonous tone.
“Not necessarily I guess. We’ll pick the more interesting ones among these….I don’t know…three or four choices?” I sighed, checking out the synopsis and brief reviews and stuff. Both of us agreed that we weren’t going to get anything too deep or too intense. At last we chose War Horse, from Steven Spielberg.
“It’s Spielberg,” I said. “Can’t be that bad.”
“I hope,” Max said. He wasn’t liking this. Neither was I. But what else could we do to pass a boring weekend afternoon.
When it started, the movie wasn’t bad, but it was hard to stay focused for over two hours. My Mum occasionally passed the room to clean or fetch things. When she was in the kitchen or upstairs or anywhere away from the living room, I would pretend to accidentally slap my hand onto Max’s crotch. He would laugh and place his hand on top of mine, squeezing it tenderly.
We were so freaking close to getting caught one time. When my Mum walked in, both of us didn’t notice. We gasped at the same time, but luckily when she turned and shot us a curious glance, our hands were already on the couch. Of course, we went on when she left.
Our erections stood stiff during the entire runtime of the film.
“So darn exciting,” I whispered. He responded with another squeeze on my hardness. I checked before giving him a peck on the mouth. I thought he almost choked, but in the end he just laughed.
It was seven, and we were getting ready for dinner. We were going out tonight for pizza.
“See, we have no chauffeur,” I whispered into Max’s ear as we got into the backseat of our family car. Mum was in the driver’s seat. My Dad is a terrible driver. I think I could drive better without my license.
“Rich boy…rich boy…rich boy…” Max sang with pleasant melodies. I playfully shoved him away. His head bumped into the windshield.
“Hey!” he yelled.
“Dave, be nice to your friend,” my Dad said. We smirked.
“Oh, Frank. Don’t even worry. They’re getting along well.” My Mum turned back and started the vehicle. We wrapped our arms around each other’s shoulder, our faces dangerously close. I bet we thought at the same time, “They don’t know how well we get along.”
While Max adored the California boulevards and palm trees and leaves swinging back and forth in the tenderly sweet wind, I couldn’t take me eyes off him. At that moment, I kind of thought of him as family. He was a like a brother to me. We could even be twins. To a certain extent we did look alike. But family don’t what we do. Family don’t give each other passionate kisses and tender caresses. He was my boyfriend, my lover. It was then I began to spot a fault in my mind. I reduced our relationship to a lower level because I didn’t see how this boyfriend thing would work out. I didn’t even have confidence in our relationship, and it’d just started. I was ashamed then, and for a second I wanted to borrow Max’s confidence. For a second I wanted to open up and talk to him about what was on my mind. But I shook the thought away, deciding that I would have to think this through before that conversation. Maybe if I could figure things out by myself, we wouldn’t even need to talk about it. I hate serious talks.
Half an hour later, we sat inside a tiny pizza place, me and Max on one side and Mum and Dad on the other. There wasn’t much room for everyone to move around. Every time I moved my arm it was hard not to get into contact with my boyfriend’s skin. But I had no problem with that.
Of course our parents suspected nothing from our sometimes unnatural expressions. Who would suspect such a thing between two pure and innocent twelve-year-olds? Who would even think that they gave each other little kisses when people weren’t looking?
Throughout the entire meal our legs were glued together, sending shivers up my spine. The focus of attention was undoubtedly at our erected male organs. It was both exciting and uncomfortable eating with ever-protruding boners. I was uncut; when my foreskin-covered head touched the inferior of my zipper, there were these weird little feelings that I can’t describe. I kind of wished these erections had an on-off button.
The rest time for our erections was the thirty-minute ride back home. After our showers, when I sat on my bed and Max lay on the extra mattress on the floor, they were once again back in action. I wasn’t sure if they would so willingly go down this time. Obviously, we would have to make them.
“You know,” Max said, sitting on the wooden floor, “I hope this summer never ends.”
“Nothing would make me happier, lover boy,” I said.
He grinned, “You and your seducing words. How can I stand them?”
“You’ll just have to get used to them.” I noticed his hand on his crotch, and his expectant face burning with passionate importunity. He didn’t know how beautiful he was. He had officially made California the most beautiful place in the world.
When my parents came up, checked whether we brushed our teeth, and said goodnight to us, we went to our respective beds obediently unlike teenage boys. Of course, when they were gone and the door was closed, it didn’t take Max one second to jump on my bed. Already I’d shifted a bit to the left and left him half of the bed. We sat up straight. I pulled him close and we shoved our tongues into each other’s mouth without warning. As I was fighting for breath, among those few seconds of our being apart, I looked out to the balcony through the huge glass and into the silent and gorgeous night. Then again, the boy beside me was more gorgeous than the night. I adjusted the blind halfway down and brought our intensely hot bodies onto the bed under the blanket.
“Max, I can’t describe how much I love your body,” I said in my just invented sexy voice.
“Same.” That was a darn flat response. I was about to say “Can’t you say those charming words?” when he snuggled me affectionately. Of course, what he did next wasn’t flat at all. So I kept my trap shut.
Three seconds: shirts off. Then for another minute or two we stroked each other’s erections. Moans fled the blanket. Another few seconds: pants off. For the next fifteen minutes or so we kissed furiously and constantly ground our erections into a dance of avidity.
“My craving for you is the fury of a hurricane,” I said.
“Destructive, huh? Same.” I loved this boy. Little words. Not so little love.
I gasped as the warmth of his hand reached inside my underpants. No layers. God. When his skin met my organ for the first time, I almost came right there in his hand.
“Like a rock.” He went on with his slow and tender strokes, gradually increasing the pace. I returned the favor. When my fingers got in touch with his stone-like erection, it gave my own even greater pleasure.
“Oh David…oh Dave...” It gave me pleasure to know how much he loved it.
“Let’s take these off,” I suggested. Then our panties went off and flew to the ground the next second.
Our complete nakedness gamed under the thin blanket as we felt each other up at the most sensitive parts. With each stroke and each panting, we knew what was about to happen. We decided to embrace the divine feeling instead of holding it back.
“Oh…God…God…God…ah!” I practically screamed into his face as I exploded. He didn’t mind at all; he was in his own ecstasy.
I went on stroking my lover, faster and faster, and finally he signaled, “Dave!” Seconds of pause. Then “Ahhhhhhhh!”
There was a knock on the door. I just realized we’d probably just waken the neighborhood up. Immediately our bodies diverged in a reluctant departure. He rolled onto the mattress on the floor with his face down and naked butt pointing up the ceiling. I stayed on the bed with the blanket on, covering whatever mess what’d made.
“What’s the going in there?” asked my Dad. We didn’t say anything.
Then the door opened. We prayed that in the dark he didn’t see our clothes scattered all over the floor. Then the door closed in a few seconds, and silence was predominant.
We lay there wordlessly for minutes, already recalling the fun we’d just had. I remember vaguely he stood up and walked over in the middle of the night, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I thought I ask why then. I thought the answer was “You deserved it.”
It was raining again the next morning, so we stayed inside once again. I didn’t know precisely where our parents went, but when they left they were saying something about signing documents regarding insurance and stuff. All I cared was that Max was here with me. All I cared was that we were together, and alone.
We had bread for breakfast, and when we were full, we started pulling down all the blinds and hiding from the sun and from the public eyes. Then we sat next to each other on the living room couch and made out. It was different this time. This time before we started, we removed everything on us. Down to our pants. Down to our underpants. Down to nothing. Then we fell onto the couch in an intimate hug and began kissing each other all over.
I wasn’t at all shy in front of Max. I felt like I could be myself. He didn’t need to say anything, because his eyes alone were sufficient in conveying the message that I was the closest person to him in this world. I tried to tell him with my eyes that I felt the same way too.
When the kissing ended, and he lay back on couch relaxing, my hand ended up in a firm grip on his 4-inch organ, stroking him to his impending release. I enjoyed watching him squirm and gasp. Within a minute, I got my prize. A few of drips of come were still come. I was actually about to taste them but decided against it fearing that it might freak him out. I would just keep his hot seed on my hand and savor it later when he wasn’t looking.
Then he did for me what I did for him. “I’m doing it…quicker man!” But nothing came out this time. He didn’t mind at all; my facial expression during my explosion was rewarding enough.
It was interesting (I wouldn’t necessarily say “bad” at this stage) that we provided little or no come at all. Both of us loved the scent of each other’s come. But huge shots of come would make a mess of thing, and that meant we had to be extra careful. But who would want to be careful when going through such intense feelings? I couldn’t even start thinking what would have happened to my bed if we had been mature enough to send of thick ropes of come flying all over the place. Instead of a few wet spots, our bed would have ended up submerged in an ocean of man seed and it would have been the greatest mess of all time.
Still, we couldn’t wait for the moment when our dicks were capable of full release. In the night, after a few rounds of fun and a couple more half-wet-half-dry orgasms, Max told me, and I agreed, that having a complete wet orgasm had to feel a lot, a lot better.
I fell into a restful sleep repeating the thought in my head.
A Love so Star-crossed (gay/young-friends/2012-12)
Growing Intimacy (gay/young-friends/2012-11)