Date: Sat, 13 Mar 2021 01:12:29 +0000
From: Vance Von Jungsburg <vereinington@protonmail.com>
Subject: Ambrosia (Gay/Young-Friends)

The following story is fictional. None of the events or characters are
real. Please do not read it if you are under 18 or if the content is
illegal in your jurisdiction.

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contact me at vereinington@protonmail.com. Your feedback is my only
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AMBROSIA

by Vance Von Jungsburg

Ambrosia. Nectar. Cream. Honey. Call it juice. Call it seed. It is a
delicacy my body requires. The fresh, thin emission of a newly virile
tween or teen is my narcotic. I am a connoisseur, a hunter, a gatherer, a
prospector searching for a gold vein.

The first time I tasted it something inside me changed. I was a scrawny
ten-year-old sleeping over at my cousin Ronny's house while my parents
were in Greece. Ronny was a hyperactive 12-year-old with a dirty mouth
when he was out of earshot of adults. I was berthed on the lower bunk in
his room after my aunt Carmen shushed us and told us to turn out the
lights. Ronny hung from the top bunk and made monkey sounds.

"Hey, Keith! Look!" he whisper-yelled. Ronny's naked ass hung over the
edge of the top bunk looking at me like an eyeless face with a vertical
smile. I could see his ballsack hiding between his legs.  Ronny grasped
the bunk railing and executed a semi-coordinated flip onto the floor in
front of me. He'd shucked his blue and orange Denver Broncos pajamas and
was naked from head to toe. My eyes fixed on his hard cock. I'd been
having constant undefined thoughts about dicks in the past year. My time
watching Spiderman cartoons was spent wondering what was behind the blue
fabric bulge between Spidey's muscular thighs.

And now here was a real dick, right in front of my eyes. It was at least
twice as long as mine, and Ronny had a few short curly hairs at the base
of it. They were darker than the sun-bleached blonde hair on his head.

"You gotta get naked, too," he demanded.

Well, I was a guest in his house so I had to. I pulled off my Spongebob
jammies and white briefs and knelt on the lower bunk with my little
erection pointing toward the ceiling.

Ronny sat next to me on the mattress and propped himself up on his
elbows.

"You ever touch another boy's weenie?" he asked.

"Nu uh," I answered honestly.

"Here." Ronny grabbed my hand and placed it around his cock. As soon as I
touched it I felt something - the warm, rigid pole was transmitting faint
bursts of buzzing energy through my skin and into my body.

"You gotta move your hand up and down," Ronny instructed. "Like this."
He put his hand around mine to demonstrated the proper speed and
intensity. My eyes were glued to his cock as if it was the only thing in
the room.

"So you never fooled around with your friends, huh?" Ronny asked. "When I
was your age I was already doing all kinds of nasty with my friends."

"What kinda nasty?" I asked, mostly because I felt like I was missing out
on something I didn't even know about.

Ronny looked at me and pursed his lips. "You know, circle jerks, BJs,
humping."

I knew what humping was. I'd heard the words "BJ" and "Circle Jerk"
before but was clueless as to what they were.

"Show me BJs." I told Ronnie.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded without hesitation.

"It takes two people. Stand up in front of me."  Ronnie sat on the edge
of the bed.

I positioned myself in front of Ronnie and he grabbed my buttocks,
pulling me toward his body and engulfing my hard penis in his mouth in
less than a second. My first reaction was to pull away, but the pleasant
feeling emanating from my groin kept me in position.

Ronny sucked and moved up and down on my little hardon for a few seconds.
"Now you have to suck me," he instructed.

I was a guest in his house, so I couldn't say no. Ronny stood up and I
sat on the bottom bunk in front of him. His hard dick pointed right at my
face. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to put it in my mouth. I
felt like it was emitting a powerful force, like an electromagnetic crane
that could pick up a junked car. I felt Ronny's penis drawing my lips
toward it with an unyielding energy.

As soon as my mouth closed on his cock Ronny grasped my head and started
pumping, forcing it in as far as it would go. I thought I was going to
choke but soon realized I was still able to breathe through my nose. The
sensation of his warm, moist member sliding in and out of my throat was
not unpleasant. My nose was literally pressed against Ronny's lower
abdomen at the apex of each thrust. I could smell his distinctive smell.
It was the smell of his bedroom, his clothing, his sheets.

Ronny's thrusts grew quicker and more powerful, and thirty seconds after
he'd stuck his dick in my mouth his body shuddered. I felt and tasted a
salty thin liquid as it spread over my tongue. I was afraid of making
Aunt Carmen angry if I spit up a mess on Ronny's bed, so I swallowed it.

Ronny pulled out. His penis was red and slippery wet with my spit.

"You peed in my mouth!" I said, trying to sound angry, even though I was
excited that I'd done something so naughty.

"That's not pee," Ronny said. I could see he was trying to hide his
laughter. "That's cum. It's the stuff you shoot out of your dick into a
lady's vagina to make a baby."

"You're probably gonna want to brush your teeth," Ronny added.

I went into the bathroom but I didn't brush my teeth - I wanted to keep
that taste in my mouth as long as I could, to be reminded of what had
just happened, the sharing of that most intimate act. I turned on the
water so Ronny would think I was brushing my teeth and looked at myself
in the mirror. Something was different. The last time I'd looked at
myself I'd seen a soft little boy. Now I looked like a young man. For the
first time I noticed the ridges on my abdomen - horizontal and vertical
lines which would soon form a taut six-pack. My biceps looked bigger,
too. I knew it was just my imagination, but everything about me felt
different, better, stronger.

Three days later I did ten pull ups during P.E. at school. Two weeks ago
I'd barely been able to manage one, but now I could do ten. It had to be
Ronny's juice - there was no other explanation.

I used every opportunity to suck Ronny's dick after that, nagging my mom
and Aunt Carmen until they arranged a weekly Friday night sleepover with
my cousin. Ronny seemed happy about it. Getting his cock sucked and and
his cum swallowed by a willing partner was fun and easy. And every
Saturday when I left Ronny's house I felt stronger, more confident, more
mature.

On a Monday after staying over at Ronny's I was walking down the school
hallway when someone yelled to me.

"Hey Sullivan!"

I looked behind me and saw that it was Pete Copeland, the biggest,
strongest boy in fifth grade. He'd never talked to me before, and as far
as I knew was unaware of my existence up to that point.

"You're starting to look pretty cut. You working out?" he asked as he
swiped his straight, sandy bangs out of his eyes.

"Uh... yeah, a little," I answered. I figured my suck sessions were a
kind of work out.

"Yeah, I can tell," Pete said.

I felt an ember of pride burning in my chest. Pete Copeland wasn't the
best student; he'd been held back a year, which explained his size
advantage among the fifth graders. He smoked cigarettes and missed a lot
of school, but had an allure about him. I knew plenty of the girls had
crushes on him. Once, in PE, he'd worn old gray sweat pants instead of
the required shorts and I could clearly see the outline of his big cock
as he jumped and lunged during a game of volleyball.

"We should work out together sometime," Pete proposed.

"Yeah, that would be cool," I said.  I didn't know what else to say. Pete
turned and walked away.

My sleepovers with my cousin Ronny continued, but some point my fervor
for dick started to make him feel uncomfortable. He began finding excuses
to cancel our sleepovers until they dropped off completely.

I had just turned 11 and my life entered a period of stagnant monotony. I
felt like I only woke up 3/4 of the way each morning - one quarter of my
being remained asleep at all times.  I was always hungry; even after a
huge dinner and dessert I felt like there was still something I needed.
Visions of hard cocks spurting thin, luscious pearls of desire crowded
out my other thoughts until my school work suffered.

One day I cracked open the elementary school directory and looked up Pete
Copeland's number. I dialed the number trembly with anticipation.  A lady
answered hello.

"Uh, can I talk to Pete?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, not asking who was on the other end of the line. I
heard her yell for Pete.

"Hello?" I recognized Pete's husky, almost-adolescent voice.

"Hey, Pete. It's Sullivan. You wanna work out?"

Pete had more free-weights than I did so we made a plan to meet at his
house after school on Tuesday.

The next day I stood over Pete on the weight bench, spotting him as he
bench pressed 140 pounds. The view down the length of his body was
captivating. I could see the muscular definition of his torso through his
tight wifebeater and the bulge of his boyhood beyond that, forming a
slight tent in his worn gray sweatpants.

"Sullivan!" I was jolted out of my reverie by Pete, whose head was just
below my crotch on the weight bench. "You got a hardon?"

I didn't feel even a twinge of embarrassment that Pete had spotted my
erection through my shorts.  I shrugged.

"Sometimes I get 'em too when I work out," he admitted.

"Let me see it," I said. I hadn't even thought about how I was going to
reply to Pete, and I was unprepared for the way the words came out of my
mouth, clear and emphatic like a general giving out orders.

Pete sat up on the weight bench and was silent for a few seconds, then
lifted his butt and pulled down his sweat pants. His semi-hard cock grew
to full staff, pointing towards belly button above a pair of taut plump
balls. I knelt in front of him and rubbed the insides of his thighs. Pete
spread his legs wider. I saw it as an invitation.

I grabbed his boyhood by the root and engulfed it with my mouth. It was
about the same length as Ronny's but bigger around - I had to open wider
to get it all in. I employed the skills I'd developed over the last six
months of sleepovers, using a combination of suction, tongue work, and
variations in tempo to deliver maximum pleasure.

"Shit...shit...shit," Pete whispered as I worked on his stiff member.
Unlike Ronny, Pete didn't hold my head. He kept his hands on the weight
bench propping himself up, as if he didn't have the strength to stay
upright against to the onslaught of my oral manipulations.

I felt the spasms growing deep in his body and knew it was about to
happen. Clamping my hands around Pete's backside in case he decided to
withdraw, I pulled him as deep inside me as I could. His hips bucked and
then he deposited his seed down my throat. I felt the thin, viscous fluid
travel down my esophagus and into my stomach like a glowing trail of warm
lava. When I was sure he had no more to give, I pulled off, and looked up
at Pete. Somehow my vision had become enhanced, as if I had been given a
new superpower. Each facial muscle and feature on Pete was readable, like
a word. Strung together, they told me the boy's thoughts.

"I'm not gay, but that was so much better than jerking off," I read in
his face. "Why am I suddenly so tired? I gotta take a nap."

"Not so fast," I commanded. "You gotta spot me. Put another ten pounder
on both sides."

I'd never bench pressed 160 pounds. Pete was the only kid in fifth grade
who could even lift 140. But I had a confidence flowing through me. I
knew I could do it.  And I did.

"Shit!" Pete declared. "You're way stronger than I thought!"

We established a routine of twice-weekly weight lifting sessions.  Pete
would lift, I'd blow him, then he'd spot me as I broke my own lifting
records almost every week.

After a few sessions, a second kid appeared in Pete's basement one
Thursday after school. I recognized the boy as Dawson, one of Pete's
posse from school. Dawson was barrel-chested husky kid who had a
reputation as a bully.

"Daws wants to join in on our training," Pete explained. I looked at Pete
and read his face. He'd told Dawson about my increasing strength, and
about the blow jobs.

We lifted for a bit and then Pete pulled his shorts down, which was his
usual signal that he wanted me to suck him.

"Uh, uh," I said.  A flash of disappointment crossed Pete's face.

"I'm gonna do Dawson first." I ordered Dawson to undress, to get
completely naked. Sucking a cock was a submissive act, but I wanted to
assert dominance. I had the innate awareness that making him completely
expose himself before the act was a way to express power.

The boy pulled off his t-shirt and shorts, then dropped his boxers to the
floor, revealing a dick that was skinny and small in contrast to his
oversized trunk. Whereas my cousin and Pete had fine hair growing above
their cocks, Dawson's lower abdomen was as white and smooth as a baby.

I knelt in front of Dawson.  "Can you even cum?" I asked.

"Can you?" Dawson spit out the words.

I stood up.

Dawson looked at me. "Faggot..."  It came out barely above a whisper but
I heard it.

THWACK! The noise took all three of us by surprise. Without a moment of
forethought or planning my fist had connected with Dawson's chest with
enough power to push him back a couple steps.  The boy looked confused,
then fell to ground and silently heaved, trying to recover the breath I'd
knocked out of him. Pete and I watched him on his hands and knees as his
expression changed from panic to relief to wrath. Dawson's eyes fixed on
me from the center of his red face and he stood up. His barrel chest
expanded to maximum girth as he took a deep breath and moved toward me
with his right fist cocked.

CRACK! Again all three of us were surprised by the speed and power of my
swing as it connected with Dawson's chin. For a fleeting second the big
kid had a look of confusion, then the light drained out of his eyes and
he collapsed on the floor.

I looked over at Pete and read his face. "Shit! I gotta make sure never
to get in a fight with Sullivan... Wait!  What if Dawson's dead on my
basement floor?"

"He's not dead," I assured Pete. We both looked at the hump of white,
naked flesh on the carpeted basement floor as it began to stir. Dawson
got onto his knees then seemed to notice he was still stark naked. He
pulled on his boxers and shorts and headed up the basement stairs without
saying anything.

I looked at Pete. "He left his T-shirt."

Pete didn't say it out loud, but I saw it in his face. "Am I still gonna
get my blowjob?"

I obliged.

Six weeks later at the end of the school year I was the second tallest
boy in fifth grade, standing half an inch below Pete. I was the
unquestioned strongest kid at the school and had developed a potent
allure amongst my peers - both boys and girls wanted to be around me, to
be associated with the dynamic force that my body emitted in every
direction like a piece of uranium throwing off radioactive waves. But I
found it funny and ironic: the force that made me into what I was - the
thing that everyone was so attracted to - was the power of fresh, thin
boy seed spewed from the loins of a young kid whose balls had just
switched on and geared into production, generating the most magical
substance nature had ever concocted.

END