Date: Tue, 29 Mar 2022 17:40:04 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: After The Fire A middle school boy and his mother lose their home, but 12-year-old Austin finds a new friendship, the next passionate night. If you like this work of fiction, or any story on Nifty, please consider contributing to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html = = = = = "Austin! Wake up!" My mom was shaking me frantically, while hollering at me to get out of bed, and I remember grumbling and rolling away from her. I've always been a deep sleeper, and as a recently minted 12-years-old, I may as well have been in a coma. Mom yanked the sheet and blanket off me, and pulled me out of bed violently. Back then, I was one of the smallest of 6th Graders, and she could have thrown me over one shoulder. Before she needed to, I registered the word "fire," and smelled smoke. Mom cranked my window all the way open, and punched out the screen. While heaving me through the window, she yelled for our lab. "Bear, come!" Fortunately, we lived in a single level, ranch style house, and I tumbled into a hedge, just ahead of my dog, and my mom. By then, thick smoke billowed out of the other windows, and orange light flickered through the black torrent. On the sidewalk on the far side of the lawn, Mom tossed me a pair of sweat pants and sneakers she must have pulled off my bedroom floor. Just then, it registered I was only in my tight little undies and a t-shirt, and that's why I was shivering in Colorado's late April night air. Mom ran to the garage, jumped in our SUV, peeled down the short driveway, and parked across the street. As Bear and I climbed into the warming car, she was on the phone with 911. I barely noticed the Fort Collins fire trucks arriving, because the only thing worse than watching your home burning down is holding your mom while she convulses with sobs. She'd been in military mode long enough to get us out safely, then collapsed. Soon enough, I was balling my eyes out, as well. In the end, all that remained of our cheaply-built, 1970s house was a charred lumber skeleton. Driving past neighbors staring at us sympathetically, we made our way to a motel that allowed dogs. Though we both stunk of smoke, showering was pointless, since we were wearing the only clothes we owned and they reeked. Mom pulled off her boots and jeans, and I stripped off my sneakers and sweats, and we both climbed into one of the two queen sized beds in our t-shirts and undies. She cuddled around me, Bear curled up behind her, and it was a long time before the humans got any sleep. After breakfast, we went back to sift through the ruins for a boxful of junk that survived the blaze. Thankfully, we had a fire safe, where Mom stored her jewelry, our digital backups (CDs, back then), and all the old photo negatives she'd inherited. The whole time, Mom barely tamped down her rage at my dad's shitty, DIY electrical work. We stopped at a surplus store, and picked up a couple of changes of clothes and winter jackets (it was April, but it stays cold in Colorado until like June), then hit a grocery store for dog food and toiletries. Crossing town, we drove to a much nicer suburb than our's. Mom had a friend from work who could put us up until she sorted things out with the insurance company, and found us a new home. Stacey LaBelle's was a senior manager, and her husband had some kind of consulting business, so they were well-off, and her house was huge. I mean, relatively speaking to where we'd lived. They had a guest room, which Mom and Bear took, and they put me in a room with their older son, Enoch. Stacey met us and got us settled, then headed back to work. Mom and I took turns in the shower, and while I was in, she added my clothes with hers in the washing machine. Freshly scrubbed, I dug through the surplus store bag, and ripped open a package of generic white briefs, with nothing printed on the navy blue waistband, and another with generic tube socks. With a fresh pair of sweat pants and a new t-shirt, I took the LaBelle's corgi and Bear to a nearby park, while Mom spent most of the day on the phone with my dad, the insurance company, and the fire department. Back at the LaBelle's, Mom made lunch, pretending everything was OK. But her eyes were bloodshot, and I pretended I didn't see the sadness in her gaze. While she got back on the phone, I slumped around Enoch's room. If I'd been in my right head, I'd have been freaking stoked to share a room with the skater boy a year and a few months younger than me. A soft-featured cutie, with long, swirling brunette hair, he was lean, inquisitive, and very kind. Because I was a "late-bloomer," we were about the same size, and he was just the kind of boy I was helpless to ignore. At a barbecue the previous summer, I'd glommed onto him immediately, and we hung out together all afternoon. It was like we were meant to be friends. My attraction was probably cartoonishly obvious. But at least my family and friends already knew I was gay, so my mom didn't say a word on the way home. Anyway, we made promises to get together, but summer obligations got in the way, then, school, and half a year later, though I hadn't forgotten that magical afternoon, I didn't think I'd ever see Enoch again. Chance had thrown us together again, living in the same room. And yet, because of the fire, I wasn't even imagining the possibilities - not even the fact Enoch and I would see each change clothes. I sat on the trundle bed Stacey had rolled out from under Enoch's full-sized mattress, and didn't feel much of anything, except Bear's head under my hand, and total exhaustion. Sometime later, I woke up from a dreamless sleep, with my name carrying on a lilting, young boy's voice, and my shoulders being gently shaken. I groaned, and peeled my eyes open. Enoch knelt on the trundle mattress, and he smiled down at me with sad, doe-brown eyes. His shiny, long brunette mane made a sort of tunnel between our faces. "Sorry Austin, but dinner's almost ready," Enoch said quietly, getting to his feet. I rubbed my eyes, and noticed Enoch's gaze lingered on my groin. I looked down, and was alarmed to see a steeple stretching almost straight up in my sweat pants. He quickly turned away, pretending to look for something on his desk, while I felt blood rushing to my face, and quickly adjusted my situation. And then it hit me: the corners of Enoch's lips had been pulled upward, in a suppressed smile. Could he be interested? I staggered up, and he turned around. With no warning, Enoch wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a tight hug. "I'm sorry about your house," he whispered. His voice sounded musical. His lavender soap fragrance, and slightly damp hair hinted at a recent shower. I hugged him back, letting his long, moist mane slide across my face. I don't know how long we hugged, but it felt much more natural and comforting than it would for most boys who'd met once, 8 months before. Eventually, we pulled away, and I noticed my laundry lay folded on the floor, next to the surplus store bag. Obviously, Mom also came and went while I was out of it. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 6:30, and I'd been asleep for four hours straight. As if reading my thoughts, Enoch grinned. "You're a pretty deep sleeper, Austin." "So I've heard," I replied, returning his smile. "How long have you been here?" "A couple of hours," he answered, with a chuckle. "Long enough to shower and finish my homework." "Whoa." I sighed, and paused. "I'm really sorry about this, Enoch." "Dude, no worries," the boy replied replied. "It'll be fun. It'll be like one long sleep-over." Damn but his positive energy was infectious. I almost felt a moment of happiness, before I let self-pity chase it away. "I'll try not to get in your way," I said. "Tell me if I'm annoying you, or you need space." Enoch grinned, and I was enchanted by his shimmering, dark eyes. "Dude, you're in the way of dinner, and I'm starving." Grabbing me by the hand, he pulled me out the door. He kept ahold of me longer than necessary, and I could feel a gentle squeeze, before he let go. My world spun, and over dinner, I could barely keep up with the conversation. Of course, the adults - my mom, Stacey, and her husband, Nick - were talking about things Enoch, his little brother Steph and I could barely follow. Mostly, they talked about insurance, and made dark jokes about my dad's handyman skills. At the other end of the table, Steph rambled on about things that happened that day in second grade, and the Magic Tree House book his class was reading. A cute little guy that looked more like his mother than Enoch, Steph was a chatterbox, and it was kind of funny to let him go on and on, wondering if he'd ever run out of words. As we finished, and brought our plates to the kitchen, Nick suggested, "Why don't you boys get in your PJs, and we can ice cream and watch TV?" "Uh, mom?" I turned to her. "We didn't get any pajamas at the store." She bit her lip and sighed. "Dammit," she muttered, guiltily. We never wore pajamas at home, and it had slipped her mind. Overhearing us, Enoch chirped, "You can wear a pair of mine, Austin." That kid's generosity was limitless, and I thanked him. But before I could follow him out, Mom's phone rang. She looked at it, and groaned at the user ID. "It's your father," she said, trying to hide her disgust, signaling me to stay. After answering it, she said, "Yeah, Frank, he's right here," and handed me the phone. After he'd moved across country and remarried, I rarely heard from my dad, save my birthday and Christmas, and I hadn't seen him for more than a year. But I dutifully listened while he gave me a pep talk about "new beginnings." With mechanical grace, he told me he loved me, and I mumbled the same back at him, and handed my mom the phone. Unfortunately, by the time I got to Enoch's room, he'd already changed clothes. He wore pajamas that were nothing like the baggy, flannel things I kept - or used to keep - for visits to see relatives. With broad, horizontal, blue and white stripes, the bottoms were snug, almost like dance leggings, and they really accentuated his lean legs. I'd been noticing boys' legs way more acutely since starting middle school gym class that year, and Enoch's looked even finer than I'd remembered. His long-sleeved t-shirt top was a solid blue, matching his stripes. It was a mysteriously, magically sexy look, and my penis hardened, snaking up my briefs. "Hey dude, I made room for your stuff, here," he said, pointing to a couple of drawers in his dresser. He opened one of the drawers, there were a couple of pairs of pajamas, in the same style Enoch wore. One matched his blue set, while the other had a green shirt and green and white stripes bottoms. Next to the folded pajamas, Enoch had unpackaged and carefully folded the socks and generic white briefs mom had bought me earlier that day, as well as my laundered pair of undies. While I was embarrassed about the tighty-whities (I'd been wearing trunks - something in between briefs and boxer briefs for the last year), I was floored by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks...for all this," I started to tear-up, and my voice was sniffly. But before I started crying, Enoch saved my dignity by showing me that my old sweat pants, new jeans and t-shirts were in the drawer below. He sat back on the bed, and I faced away from him. I could tell he wanted to watch me strip, but my damned erection wouldn't go away. And was it was more than idle curiosity that kept his eyes on me? Like, was he maybe gay, too? Shit, being 12 is so confusing. Anyway, I pulled off my t-shirt, and replaced it with the blue pajama top. That was the easy part. I don't know why I was suddenly so shy, because I didn't have a problem losing my clothes at the gym or the pool locker room. I took in a breath, dropped my sweatpants, and bent over to pull them off. I must have given Enoch a good view of my skinny, little cotton clad bum, because I had to stay bent to pull on the PJ trousers. Still, he couldn't see my throbbing tent from this angle. But maybe he'd have like that..? The pajamas were almost as snug as my underpants, but so much softer. I could see the outline of my briefs' clearly defined, as well my rigid boy tube running up the front, before letting the shirt hem fall to cover everything. "Thanks for not laughing at my underwear," I said, over my shoulder. "It was all they had at the store." Kind of a lie. The store had generic boxers, too. But I've always hated the way boxers creep up into a wad when you're walking around. "What do you think I wear? Spiderman?" Enoch asked, amused. He jumped up, and opened another drawer, and pulled out a pair of his own undies, unfurling them against his groin, doing a hula shake with his hips, and giggling. They were little sky blue briefs with little white horizontal lines. That kid was hilarious and irresistibly sexy, with a shameless disregard for self-consciousness. He wasn't doing anything to ease the hidden swelling in my pants. Glancing down at his underwear drawer, I saw every color in the rainbow. "Whoah. All that and no Spiderman, huh?" I joked. "Nah. I'm more of a Batman dude," he chuckled, and closed the door. "My brother, on the other hand...Anyway, if you need to borrow anything, what's mine's your's." Enoch took my used t-shirt to the hamper in his closet. "Put your laundry in here with mine," he said, bowing down to mash my t-shirt into an overflowing bin. "Gotta do some laundry, this weekend," he muttered. Apparently, he did his own, and I guess I was a bit spoiled. When he had bent over, I couldn't see any hemlines under the smooth fabric of his pajama bottoms. He'd gone commando, and the view was magnificent! His slender buttocks were clearly outlined by smooth, snug cotton. Each of his buns was dimpled with a side indentation from his willowy waist. Jeez, I just wanted to sink my teeth into those striped melons. A few minutes later, we trotted into family room, where some sitcom was running. Mom was reclining with Stacey on the couch, sipping wine, while Nick left for the kitchen, to serve up ice cream. Enoch pulled me into one of the recliners, which was a snug fit for two. But I wasn't complaining, especially when Enoch pulled a throw blanket over us. I'd noticed it had gotten chilly over the last hour. "Dad turns down the heat at night," he explained. Steph soon joined us, with his belly on the floor, and his chest on a big pillow. He was wearing orange striped pajamas styled like Enoch's and mine, but there was something different. His butt was bulging. It took me a moment to figure it out, but the 2nd Grader was wearing some kind of diaper. I must have been staring at the contoured folds of the rectangular butt padding, before Steph pulled his own blanket over himself, because Enoch whispered in my ear, "I'll tell you about it, later." Just then, I felt his hand against mine, resting on my thigh. I grew a pair, and rubbed my pinkie along the length of his little finger. I stroked it slowly. Back and forth. Gentle as a breeze. And though he pretended to pay attention to whatever was on TV, he smiled, and slid his hand over mine, stroking all my fingers with his. It was a slow, delicate dance, interrupted by dessert. I'd never before been disinterested in chocolate ice cream, but Nick's dessert delivery was really poorly timed. When our hands found each other again, we simply entwined our fingers and traded occasional squeezes. God, I wanted to kiss him. Maybe an hour passed, and Enoch's thigh was over mine, and our clump of fingers was nearly at his crotch, and I was quivering so badly I needed to leave or I'd have a stroke. Yawning, and feigning very plausible exhaustion, I asked if I could be excused. Enoch looked surprised, but I winked at him discretely, and he released my hand. "Sure, baby," my mother said, getting up to kiss me good night. "You've got to be drained after today." Once again, I was so glad my PJ top covered my thumping crotch, while I said my goodnights, and headed off to brush my teeth, and piss. With the lights off, I clambered under the covers in my trundle bed. My poor little cock was so hard it hurt, and I wondered if I'd made the wrong move. Would Enoch find an excuse to follow me? A few agonizing minutes later, the door creaked open, and Enoch's silhouette filled the door frame for a nano-second. "I guess that show was putting me to sleep, dude," Enoch said, wryly. Quickly taking care of business in the bathroom, he climbed into his bed, and curled on his side near the edge of the mattress. "Here we are going to bed before Steph, even," Enoch said, with a chuckle. Peering up at the outlines of his beautiful face, glowing with the faint hallway light gleaming from under Enoch's door, I replied, "Speaking of Steph, was he wearing a diaper?" Enoch sighed. "Yeah, he still wets the bed. He's like you - he doesn't wake up unless there's an airhorn in his ear." "You got me up pretty easy." Suddenly remembering my erection, I giggled at the double entendre, and a split second later, so did Enoch. "I was just patient," he said, and paused. "I liked watching you sleep," he quietly admitted. I didn't know what to say. It was such a tender admission. 
Lamely, I reached up and combed my fingers through his long hair, like my mom did with me. "I liked what we were doing. On the couch, I mean." Enoch took the the hint, and my hand in his. We were quiet for a moment, just squeezing each other's hands. Really, is there any more basic expression of warmth and affection? "Um, are you cold down there?" Enoch asked. "I could get you another blanket. Or...you could come up here. There's plenty of room." I was under his soft sheets and warm duvet in a flash, on my side facing Enoch. "This is much better," I said. "Thanks." We were both quiet, for a long awkward pause, and Enoch broke it with a joke. "You're not a bed wetter, too, are you?" I forced a chuckle, then told him I had been. "When I was a little kid, I was a nighttime fountain. I don't remember it, but Mom tells me I had it beat by 5. Then my parents divorced." I paused for a moment. "I started up again. That I remember. It wasn't just my `sleep-cycle' - like my doctor said. It was stress. Anyway, long-story short, my mom couldn't afford endless Goodnights. So she went full-on SPARTA!" I said, imitating the battle cry from the movie "The 300," and Enoch laughed. "Unless it was the middle of summer, I couldn't drink anything after dinner. She set an alarm, and got up twice a night to pee." While working her ass off, she did everything for me, including sacrificing sleep. But even the most rigorous regimen could fail, so I wore the same pair of pull-ups every night until I wet them, or they wore out. In my seventh year, I went through half a box, and pretty much tapped out as a bedwetter. "So, sometime in first grade, I was over it. Mostly." "Mostly," Enoch replied, with gentle sarcasm. "Who hasn't had a couple of accidents?" "Me," Enoch proudly announced, pounding his chest, then melted into giggles. "In an alternate universe." We grew serious and we stared into each other's eyes, in the dim hall light. I knew that he knew what I knew what he knew: that we wanted to go a step further, and neither of us knew how to get there. I changed the subject, and thanked him for taking us in. "Your family's the bomb, and I don't know where we'd be tonight, without you all," I said, quietly. "But there's no place I'd rather be than right here. Right now. Thank you." Enoch's arms pulled me into him. One of his legs wrapped around mine, squeezing me with a full-body hug. I hugged him back, my heart beating fiercely. His hardness pressed against my hip, and mine somewhere into his lean tummy. Affection grew into desire, and yet we were both children, with no idea of pacing or romantic conventions. I mustered my courage, and hesitantly asked, "Can I kiss you?" "Yes, please," he cheerfully replied, without any deliberation. "Uh, just so you know, I've only done this a couple of times." I'd practiced adult kissing with my best friend, Keith. For him, it was like figuring how to change the oil in your car - a necessary life skill in the pursuit of girls. But for me, it was overwhelming, almost a religious experience. Enoch chuckled. "Austin, I've never been kissed. I mean, you know, the real kind." Our lips met tenderly. He followed my lead, opening his lips slowly, while gently rotating his mouth against mine. At the same time, we caressed each other with arms and legs. And then our tongues swam to and fro, in each other's sloppy, minty mouths. We were probably clumsy as hell, but all I remember is how we grew more passionate. Eventually, our hands traveled south. At first, we gently explored each other's buttocks through the silky softness of out pajama bottoms. Then, more urgently, we squeezed and massaged, pulling our groins together. Without any words, we slowly thrust into one another, while kissing more fiercely. I rolled him onto his back, and Enoch reflexively spread his legs. I'd never humped anything but my pillow before, but I was following instincts hardwired into every mammal. Resting my head next to Enoch's, I pumped up and down, grinding steadily. His little cock felt like cotton-sheathed steel, and I dragged my diamond hardness against it, furrow up and down his length plowing with growing urgency. Our breathing grew deeper. Clutching my ass with a death grip, Enoch pumped up to meet me. "So. Fucking. Awesome!" Enoch gasped. "Feels...So good!" He thrust harder, almost lifting his hips off of the bed. With boy cock grinding against boy cock, our friction built into a frenzy. Suddenly, Enoch's hips bucked up, and I could feel his thumping limb pulsing into me. He pumped violently, gasping and groaning, and finally collapsing. After he climaxed, it seemed...well, rude, at least, to keep grinding into his limp, heaving body, and so I rolled over onto my side, and gazed at the flushed-faced cherub. "Oh, dude," Enoch quietly gasped. "Never felt anything so good." While he caught his breath, I slid my fingers inside his pajama top, now slightly damp with perspiration, like my own. His soft skin felt like it was coated over firm, flat muscles, and I caressed his rising and falling tummy. "Is this Ok?" I asked, gently caressing his tummy. "Anything you do is OK," Enoch sighed. "Still, if you feel...weird, let me know, OK?" I said. "I'm, um, kinda gay, just so you know." Enoch laughed. "Kinda gay, huh? Really? Well, there's a surprise." I giggled. "Yeah, no duh, I guess." "Just so you know, I'm kinda totally gay," he replied, then paused. Hesitantly, he probed: "You're such a hottie, Austin. I'll bet you've got tons of boyfriends." "Hardly," I said, with a chuckle. "I learned how to beat off in a Cub Scout tent, and my best friend, Keith and I do things, `cause he's always horny. He likes to close his eyes and pretend I'm a girl. Still, he gives as good as he gets. He knows I'm into boys, and I try not to do anything that'd make him feel weird." "What...what kinds of things?" "Mostly jack each other off. But we give each other blow jobs, too." "So, he's got your dong in his mouth, and he's totally `no homo?'" Enoch said. His laughter turned into a squeal when I pinched his nipple. "He's my bro, dude." I replied. "He likes it, kinda. I mean, it's not like he's even touched a girl's tits. Maybe, when he finally gets laid, we might still mess around. But I don't know if he'll still suck me when I start shooting." "You don't shoot, yet?" Enoch asked, incredulously. "Nope," I sighed. Keith said it was a different, totally awesome feeling when you finally ejaculated. He didn't make much, and it didn't have much flavor. But it would be at least another year before I got to taste the difference. "Me, either," he said, not surprising me. I mean, he was about to turn 11, and I knew some boys ejaculate at that age, but I'd yet to meet one. Still, I took the opportunity to give him a backhanded compliment. "I don't believe you," I said, slyly. "A macho dude like you." Sliding my hand down his torso, past his PJ's waistband, I found his turgid little love missile, still hard and quaking. I lightly caressed his knob through his thoroughly dry PJ bottoms, making him giggle, then tickled down to his nuts and back. "And you're still hard," I purred. "Damn. So hard." Enoch turned on his side, so we could make out slowly, communicating our new friendship with quiet slurping sounds. I slid both hands back inside his top, and spent a lot of time exploring his chest and back with my fingertips. I'd never had the chance to linger with another boy's body, gently exploring curves and contours. Like I said, with Keith, I didn't want to weird him out, so we just got down to business, and got each other off. Here was a boy who was into me for being me. It was also all new to Enoch, too. He'd learned how to masturbate from soccer teammates. But aside from the occasional circle jerk, he'd never had the chance to simply enjoy the feeling of another boy's body against his own, much less the arousing dance of a tongue ballet. I slid my hand between us, and held his throbbing prong through his soft and skimpy PJs. I could feel the contours, almost as if he wore a feathery second skin! Gently stroking him with a firm, upside down grip, I made him moan in my mouth. A moment later, he copied me, and the warm pressure made me gasp. There's nothing like those itchy tickles busting up and down a young boy's cock, when the sensation is all still so fresh. We both pulled back to gaze in each other's eyes, while we stroked each other a little faster. I was gritting my teeth, panting with each push and pull on my impossibly hard little boy tool. His lurching hardness felt so good sliding along my palm, and in my grip. He was polishing me so firmly, so urgently, it would only take another moment before I came. "Uuuh...God I love that," I whispered. "I'm almost there!" "Hold on," Enoch quietly replied, through ragged breaths."I wanna feel it." He released my pounding flesh for a second, and reached into my PJs and underpants. This was the move that cast aside any plausible deniability. When your fingers gripped another boy's penis in the flesh, there was no pretending you didn't want to hold it. And Enoch really wanted it. His fingers briefly explored my 3½ inches, making my whole body quiver. He gave my nuts a gentle, probing squeeze, then took me in a full-fisted, vice like grip, rubbing up and down, up and down. Stroke-stroke-stroking me. "Uhhh-uuuh-uuuh...Yes! Yes! Yes!" I gasped. "Faster!" I begged. His hand was moving in a frenzy, and the rhythmic sounds of fluffing fabric and stretching elastic competed with stifled, animalistic grunts. I'd stopped stroking Enoch, and just held his bone, while I was pulled into the vortex of pleasure in my pants. My tiny nuts contracted, and my eyelids squeezed shuts. Stars flared in my eyes, and I rhythmically squeezed sparkling, itchy, dry, tickles into Enoch's hand. I sealed my lips to stifle my helpless whimpers. Still, they seeped out of my nose and echoed in the quiet room. My poor little cock dry retched so many times, over and over, until, at last, the spasms died, and I was shaking with ragged half-breaths. Enoch kept jerking it, until I asked him to stop. "That was amazing, Austin," Enoch whispered enthusiastically. "I could feel it moving! It was like, I dunno, like holding your bicep and flexing it a few times." "That'd be a pretty tiny arm," I huffed, with a grin. "Didn't feel tiny to me," he replied, then leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. I wrapped an arm around him and pulled Enoch into my shoulder. It just felt so right to hold tight to this kid I barely knew, but fully trusted. We were sexual novices, and exploring new territory together. And I really liked him. With his head resting in the crook of my neck, I caressed his slender back. I could feel his ribs through his pajama top. I slid my other hand into his PJs, down his smooth, soft pubic mound, until my fingers found his throbbing flesh. I froze for only a second, then feathered my fingers all the way down his steamy little cock, to his small scrotum, and back. It felt glorious! I had to see it! I wanted to suck it! "Can you turn on your bed light?" I asked, explaining why, then pulled my hand out of his PJ bottoms. In the dim light, I could see his grin. "I got something better." Rolling to his bedside table, he opened a drawer, and pulled out a little emergency camping lantern, for power failures, and a blue-and-white bandana to cover it. It wasn't striped, but I swear the colors matched Enoch's PJs. Because I was so young, I didn't really have "gaydar," yet, but if I had, this boy's color coordination would have flipped the switch. Anyway, the lantern was so bright, Enoch used the bandana to mute the light to something like a bright candle. "This is how I read comics, after my bedtime," he explained. In retrospect, I wonder if kids in the olden days used some similar trick to read porno-mags. I pulled down the bed covers, and in the strangely shadowed twilight, I could clearly see his rigid boy pole straining up against the snug, striped pajama material. At the same time, he could see my still fully engorged, cylindrical sex, rising up the front of my clothes like a speed bump. Almost at the same time, we traced finger tips up and down each other's tender tendrils. His cock looked so alluring, straining against skimpy, stretchy cotton, like a little whore dancing in a clingy veil. I twirled a finger around his bullet-shaped crown, making him shiver. But I didn't loiter. Giving Enoch a kiss on the lips, I curled down to his crotch. Eventually, I'd learn to spend time on his torso, but with the impatience of a spring-boned schoolboy, I peeled the front of Enoch's pajamas down to his feet. Of course, in the process, the waistband caught his tumescence, springing it against his barren, pallid groin. It was circumcised, like mine, and about a half-inch shorter (we measured, later that month). A prominent vein ran down one side, and a couple of capillaries radiated on the bottom. It was so beautiful, I can remember every detail (even without the many photos I took). Scrumptious, it smelled like a mix of soap and vague boy musk - the kind that comes from a good pleasuring. "Are you gonna..?" Enoch asked. My only answer was a quick kiss to his piss slit, and a delicate lick under the head, along his frenulum. "Aaaauuuuuuuuh!" With maybe two dozen blowies under my belt, I had very little technique, back then. Still, I really wanted to suck on his dark red head, and swab it with my tongue for a long time. It was slightly sweat-salty, but nothing like Keith's cock. Then, I licked his underside, from root to tip. Back and forth, I committed the contours I felt to memory, then worked one side, then another, until Enoch moaned, and his thighs were flexing. Taking his knob between my lips, I went to town, bobbing up and down, while swallowing my copious saliva. Though I wiggled my tongue a bit, I still had a pretty unsophisticated technique, and yet Enoch started to shudder. I slobbered on him ferociously, knowing he loved a boy's mouth around him, and he wasn't pretending it was a girl's. He was moaning my name! "Uuurph...Uuurph! Oh...fuck...Austin...So good!" My head moved back and forth faster, masturbating him with my lips, while sucking him like a vacuum. And then I remembered to play with his balls. I couldn't see Enoch's scrotum right then, since my whole point of view was his childish pelvic mound and an upper thigh. But I had seen it earlier, and it was a pinkish ovoid, molded to the base of his boyhood. Only a few capillaries crackled its perfectly smooth surface. His nuts hadn't been distinguishable earlier. But my fingers found each, and tickled them individually. Enoch's hips started moving, and he wheezed like my grandpa, but like in high-C. I remember that every time I pulled back with my head, his little hips pulled away, as well. And then we slammed together: his marshmallowy pubic mound engulfing my nose, while his blood-swollen dagger speared almost into my throat. It throbbed against my tongue as it slid back and forth, my cheeks and throat billowed like an octopus jetting through a sea of saliva. Enoch squealed, and I felt his little turgid flesh kicking against my tongue. He grabbed my hair, and pumped in and out, again and again, huffing in furor, until his climax faded. When he stopped, I released his wet noodle from my oral crock pot. While he caught his breath, I lay beside Enoch, and pulled the covers back over us. It felt totally natural to curl around him, throwing a leg over his, and giving him a peck to the cheek. But when I tried to rub his tummy again, he shuddered. "Sorry dude. I'm just, I dunno, really sensitive." He was still quivering from his first beej, and I just draped my arm over to gently hug him to me. "You sucked my dick," he sighed. "Kinda?" I whispered, with a giggle. He smiled, and turned his head, to give me a long smooch. "That was just...off the chain, dude." He paused for a moment, and asked quietly, "Was that a one-time thing?" I chuckled. "I hope not. I don't want us to be a one-time thing, Enoch. I like you, a lot." He beamed. "I liked you the second we met last summer. I hope it wasn't totally obvious, but...I was sorta crushing." "What?" I sputtered, then told him I'd thought I'd been the embarrassing dude. "Hmmm...I guess it was meant to be," he murmured rolling on his side to hug me for a long time. Eventually, our lips met again, for tender kisses. We could hear the very muffled sounds of Steph getting ready for bed in the shared bathroom, and then, the passing voices of his parents, before shutting their bedroom door. By then, my PJ bottoms were half-way down my thighs, and his quivering, re-engorged cock pressed against my throbbing pre-pubescence through my briefs. Though achingly hard, I could have simply slowed down with gentle kisses, and fallen asleep with Enoch in my arms. It'd been on such an emotional roller for almost 24 hours, and was fading. But that boy was insatiable, and as our tongues played, Enoch hand slipped between us, rubbing my rigid boy rod with the flat of his hand on the front of my snug undies. There was no going to sleep for a while, and so I kissed him more passionately, and he rubbed me harder through my underpants. Pulling away from my mouth, Enoch whispered, "Can I suck your's?" I grinned and nodded. A moment later, he was crouched by my knees, yanking my PJs and underwear to my ankles. Holding up the bedcovers with both arms, he studied my slender, 3½-inch, circumcised member, beating against my bald pubic mound. Just as my cock was a little bigger than his, so was my immature scrotum, though mine was a little wrinkled, while his was handball smooth. "Can you hand me the light?" Enoch asked, gesturing toward the bandana-covered lantern. He disappeared with it, under the falling bed covers, and only a little light leaked from underneath. I spread my knees to give him access, and felt his fingers gently exploring my cock and balls for a while. Then, he gripped my lurching limb with two fingers and a thumb, and I sighed as he rubbed it firmly. Those itchy tickles burned away any of my lingering fatigue, and my bent knees flapped like a butterfly a little, while my buns clenched. The rubbing stopped, though fingers held me at the base. And then kisses, first on my knob, then up and down my shaft, and all around my testicles. He had lips like sugar. Sugar kisses. Though he was teasing me into agonizing hardness, Enoch told me later he was just "loving" my cock. A soggy sponge slurped around my knob, and I had to stifle a moan. In fact, I pulled a pillow over my face, because he took a long time licking every bit of my raging lollipop. Up and down and all around. He was creatively riffing on what little I'd done to him. He was gonna be a cock sucking super star! Licking my scrotum, he filled my tightening nut sack with fire. And then, he shocked me with something I'd never even thought to do. Enoch sucked on my bag, and my balls bobbed in a churning river of hot saliva. I could barely choke a squeal from the incandescent pleasure, and then let one out from pain. Thankfully, the pillow muffled my reaction when Enoch's teeth had touched down around my sack. Yanking the pillow away, I held up the covers. "Stop!" I quietly plead with him. Enoch flew away from my groin, looking up at me with alarm. "Teeth are, um, really sharp," I said gently, telling him it wasn't his fault he didn't know, and suggested he keep his teeth behind his lips. But I also let him know he was totally rockin' it. "You're really liking it?" Enoch asked, with heart-melting enthusiasm. "Fuck, dude. You have no idea!" He grinned at me, then bent down to kiss my nads. "Poor balls. I'm sorry." I giggled. Just before I dropped the covers, I noticed Enoch's other hand was clutching his own bone between a thumb and two fingers. I lay back, and pulled the pillow over my head. A moment later, I felt Enoch's tongue, swabbing my tender bone again. Over and over, he never tired of scrubbing me, and I felt the mattress shaking a little. He let go of my root, and his tongue pulled away. The mattress shook a little harder, and I heard Enoch gasp, then grunt. He'd rubbed one out in record time, while working on me! The very idea of him worshipping my little chorizo until he came was almost enough to put me over the edge. I had to clutch the mattress with both fists to keep myself from finishing the job, and I quaked waiting for him to touch me again. I didn't care if he rubbed, licked or even kissed it, I was gonna blow. But dry, like a desert wind. Finally, the mattress stopped shaking. By then, I wasn't twitching anymore. When he took hold of my little root, I shivered, but didn't pop. I had no idea what he was going to do next. The suspense was worse than a crime movie, and I couldn't wait for him to steal my breath away. Lips around me! I don't remember if they started at my crown, or around my shaft, but I can still feel that hot, soggy warmth pulling up and down my desperately needy prong. The first time you suck a dick worrying about your teeth, it's a little clumsy, and Enoch was no different. There was little suction. But there was plenty of soft, wet rubbing. Back and forth, that wet meaty maw pulled on my diamond hardness. And here I was, in total darkness, helpless to the sensations in my little groin. The slurping sounds grew audible through the blanket, while Enoch polished my shaft and head faster. His fingers found my now drum-tight sack, giving my nuts a squeeze, and that pushed me over the edge. The darkness burst like a phosphorus bomb went off in my cock. I mean, I saw stars. Novas. Whatever. But it was like my whole body tried to vomit out my pee hole, pulling my brain behind. With pulse after glorious pulse, my cock silently screamed. I had no idea how much more intense this would get when I had something to shoot. But just then? Who the fuck cared. I remember that when my convulsions finally died down, and the buzzing sound faded away, I heard Enoch quietly shushing me. He told me later that, even through the pillow, I'd been pretty loud. He was on his side rubbing my quaking tummy, and kissing my cheek. Enoch whispered in my ear,"Your wiener's the bomb." I chuckled. One dividing line between elementary and middle school is the word "wiener." But I didn't say anything. "That was so awesome," I replied, then sealed my lips to his for a few moments. We were getting better at kissing, something we'd spend a lot of time perfecting over the next few years. "Your dick was, I dunno, going crazy," Enoch whispered, trying to describe how it had throbbed against his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. "Not just my dick, dude," I said, and we both chuckled. Totally at ease with one another, we hugged. For a long time. We soaked each other in, like emollients. "Do we have to, uh, pull our pants up?" Enoch asked, his voice receding into sleepiness. "Maybe we outa," I whispered, in case someone came in to his room. For a split second, I thought I should get back in the trundle bed. But that's the last I remember before morning. The sun was clearing the trees when I woke up, shaking from another orgasm. Utterly unmoored it took me moments to remember where I was, and realize Enoch's fingers were still at work on me. Though he slowed, he didn't stop pulling on me with a couple of fingers and a thumb. Rolling to my side, I grinned at the naughty little horn dog, who was obviously delighted with his handiwork. "Good morning, Austin," he whispered, then leaned in to give me a long smooch. "`Morning, dude," I sighed, "Do you molest other boys in their sleep?" At the same time, I reached down and found his rigid tool, and he sighed as I took him in an upside down fist. "Well, your mom wanted me to get you up," he giggled, still amused by the double entendre. I froze. "Mom?" Our lower halves were still utterly naked. Thankfully we had our tops on. "Yeah, she was trying to wake you, but it only worked on me," he replied nonchalantly. "I told her I'd take care of it." She'd found Enoch asleep with his head on my chest, and my arm around his shoulder. Later on, she told me it was "sweet" that we were becoming good friends. It would take a while for her to figure out it was a very special friendship. The LaBelle's figured things out faster, eventually putting away the trundle bed. My dad had been right about something, for once. New growth follows destruction. For me, the best thing to rise from the ashes of the fire was my blooming friendship with Enoch, which eventually grew into my first love.