Message-ID: <102304Z21061995@anon.penet.fi> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an151170@anon.penet.fi (...Mercury....) X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an151170@anon.penet.fi Date: Wed, 21 Jun 1995 10:15:26 UTC Subject: Andy (a Steve Rider story, m/m) Lines: 190 z Another erotic story extracted from the vast library of z z ... /\/\ e r c u r y ... z z I'm Very Hot...Always Behind Venus...And In Constant Motion ! z z Notes : z z 1. I did not write this story and do not know who did. z 2. Are you a biW/A m/f 18-24 looking for friends? Hmm? Write. z 3. VOTE in the next election and run the Un-Christian Coalition out! z 4. ENJOY life while you can, because you're going to DIE! z Andy A story of my youth by Steve Rider This file may be posted on Electronic Bulletin Boards for download, but may not be modified, printed for distribution, or used for any commercial purpose without the author's written permission. Copyright (c) 1992 Stephen A. Rider, all rights reserved. I grew up in this tiny village in Pennsylvania. It's still there too. There might have been five hundred people in town. If a person somehow did not know you they certainly knew someone in your family. Everyone was connected two or three ways. Andy's family lived about two blocks away. He was one of my best friends from as early as I can remember. He was also my first. My very first. He had the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life. The kind of a cock that you see in some GIF file named EENORMUS.GIF or something. When we were thirteen I couldn't get my thumb to meet any of my fingers around that monster if it was erect, and it almost always was when we were together. I used to love to "play" with Andy. I remember one time my mother made a remark about my never playing with anyone else all summer, and didn't I get tired of playing with the same kid all the time, and why was it always just the two of us and no-one else. If I had been more sophisticated at the time I might have told her I was monogamous, but I was only thirteen after all. I told her we were just best friends. The best part was always when he would start to drip precum. Andy's precum was remarkably sticky and viscous. I would dip my finger in a puddle of it on the head of his giant cock, and pull it away to see how long it would get before it snapped. We certainly played together a lot that first summer. I must have had his dick in my hands at least a thousand times. Of course we had both heard about queers. We knew we weren't queer. Those people were perverts! My family had an unused garage, it had a loft. There were these old mattresses stored up there. I remember pulling his pants down, both of us sweating like stuck pigs. Ninety five degrees outside, in the middle of July, maybe 105 degrees up there in that loft, sweat rolling off us so the salt would get in your eyes, the smell of his crotch, mixed with our sweat, his precum a perfume for my use only. He smelled more male than anyone I have ever met since. He lived on a farm. His cock would stick up out of his underwear. It always went straight up when he got a hard on. His mother was a great cook. Sometimes we had sex in his bedroom instead of my garage loft. I used to love to eat over at their house, then go upstairs with him to "play". When my father died his dad was very kind, giving us vegetables from his farm, or rabbits he had shot that morning. Of course Andy liked to play with me too. And I liked to let him. His hands rubbing my cock through my underwear. How warm it felt. He would lean over on to me, his head on my chest, staring at my cock as he stroked me for the longest time. We always tried to hold off each other's orgasms as long as we could. His hair smelled wonderful, straight, brown, smooth, long, highlights of gold from the sun. We would go for walks in the woods on the North side of town. A mile or two to one of our secret places. We would pull each others jeans down and take turns playing with each others cocks. Sometimes I would make him lie down on his back, and I would pull his cock up straight and let it go, and it would bounce against his belly button and leave sticky spots on his chest. He would start to ooze precum about the instant I put my hand on him. The smell of his sex was overwhelming to me. It filled my nostrils with joy. It made all of my body relax. In the winter we would sit in my cellar. I had my whole house bugged and we would listen to my family upstairs so no-one could surprise us by coming downstairs to throw coal in the furnace. Meanwhile we sat side by side in the lawn chairs that spent the summer on the porch, my left hand holding his cock, his right hand on mine, listening to every word anyone said upstairs. I could add or subtract rooms from my switch bank as people moved around above us. One time I setup this old saucer sled in the garage, suspended upside down, with a speaker used as a microphone at the focal point. I had a low impedance cable into the cellar with a matching transformer stolen from an old tube type radio, into the high gain amplifier I had salvaged from a reel to reel tape recorder. I could hear a neighbor family talk in their house across the firehouse parking lot, while Andy's dick was in my hand. I think we were naughty little boys. I know it must sound impossible, in all that time, over two and a half years, all we ever did was play with each other and masturbate each other. But it was hot. It was so hot that even today, too many years later to want to count them, I think of him when I jerk off. Andy of the giant dick, Andy who smelled so good, in my fantasies still. I guess I had turned fifteen and he was still fourteen that time we got caught. We had sort of gotten bored with just grabbing at each other right away, so we started to play "strip" games. We would play chess together, and if I got his knight, for instance, I would get three feels. Or we would play Monopoly, and trade feels for cash or property if one of us landed on the others hotels. So if our parents asked what we had been doing all day, we could say "Oh, just playing chess", or, "Five games of Monopoly" or something like that. Andy's family was Methodist, and my family was the token Catholics for the firehouse side of town. Neither one of us was allowed to tell lies, so the games helped out. They also helped us dissemble the truth of our relationship. After all, we were just playing games. Sometimes we would sleep out together, usually under the stars on his parent's farm, or on a cooler night in my garage loft. We would get cum stains all over each other's sleeping bags. I liked to climb into his sleeping bag, late at night, and hold my naked body against his. Sometimes he would turn on his side, with his back towards me, and I would hold my little boy cock against his ass. We would sleep together in one of our bags sometimes too. Imagine it, waking up in the morning with your fourteen year old best friend naked beside you, in the same sleeping bag, hard as a rock. Andy, Andy, Andy - why did we both have to pretend we were straight later on ? One time we were in his room. It was the middle of a summer afternoon. His mother could not understand how we could stand being cooped up in that hot room upstairs. She was doing laundry and we were playing strip chess on his bed. If one of us got too excited and shook the bed, and all the pieces fell over, we would just resort to uninterrupted sex. I had his jeans down around his knees, as well as his underwear. I was fully dressed. He had been playing dumb to get my hand on his cock. I never minded that. We heard his mother start coming up the stairs. He takes his bedspread and folds it over his naked torso. I tried to whisper to him to pull his pants up instead, but he did not hear me. She walks into the room with a basket of clean clothes, I saw his white underwear on the top. I knew that whatever pair it was, I had pulled them down. She starts scolding him for messing up his bed. She walks over. She flips his bedspread down as if to fix it and sees this giant cock her son had, all juicy and wet on the end, sticking up right in front of me. She freaked out. Methodists do not have gay children. I was obviously some sort of a rapist. I had better get my tail home really quick and tell my mother what had happened or else she would. My father was already dead at the time. I must be the queer, her son the poor victim. She thought she was doing the right thing. I made up all these lies for my mother. I told her we were just curious. She wanted to believe it, so she did. Andy and I only played it cool for about a week. After that we always had sex in my cellar, or in my garage, once in my bedroom when no-one was home. We got a pool, and Andy and I would sleep out in my loft, and sneak down to the pool late at night, and jerk each other off under the water, and leave gobs of cum for the filter. In a way I loved him. In that sweet, innocent way of children. Then finally we lost interest in each other, about the time I fell in love with Ricky. I'll tell you about Ricky some other time. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help@anon.penet.fi. If you reply to this message, your message WILL be *automatically* anonymized and you are allocated an anon id. Read the help file to prevent this. Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin@anon.penet.fi.