"About yesterday... " I began.
"Oh, no you don't!"
"Don't you go turning it into something complicated and fucked. That was good. I had fun. It was enjoyable. I especially liked that it was with you. Don't you go making it into an emergency. I want to do that some more. It was good."
"Oh," looking up. I smiled, shyly: "I'm glad. Thank you, John. I wanted that since... forever. It umm... I umm... I felt... I mean I have... Look, John. It made me feel very... close to you... umm... inside." I blushed hard and looked down.
"Psst! Hey!" he whispered, coming over to touch foreheads, "Can I kiss you, Ev?"
All I could do was smile real big -- and kiss him. His lips felt wonderful. God, he was cute. It was how the light shown through the fine down of his boyish freckly cheek. It was his color and texture, his smoothness. His boyness. I felt so safe. He's my own age, but somehow, he made me feel so safe and so cared for. His body weight pressing against me, an answered prayer. His touch filling me in some indescribable place, making me suddenly careless and wanton.
"I want to see you naked, " I said, amazed at the boldness of my own words.
"Yeah! All right! I wanna see you, too. You're so... ishh! Delectable!" I couldn't believe my ears. "I'm gonna take your clothes off of you, boy!" he said, emphasizing the word. Drawing it out. Savoring its sexy, hunky tender sound: Boy.
Boy: All stiff and proud and bouncy and tender and round and clean and sexy and Boy and I wanted to roll on him, nuzzle in the short hairs behind his ear. I wanted to smell him. I wanted to lick him in all his tender personal places. I wanted to kiss him gently on the heavenly sack between his legs, brush his rigid boy splendor with my trembling lips, graze in his sparse beginning pubes. Smell him.
Boy: All sweet and tough. Little innocent nipples indistinct, their color almost blending with the luminous beauty of his child skin. His shoulders broad and fragile, straight and boy-perfect. Cheeks plump and smooth and so very tender and downy-cute.
Boy: Sexy and sexual and willing and aggressive and horny and taking my dick in his hand.
I pushed him back and tore off his shoes. Pushed him back again and pulled down his cargo pants to reach and touch his glorious boy package, to run my hands over him and feel his fullness. Pulled his pants off and crawled between his legs to lean and sniff his musk in the cotton of his briefs, all fuzzy-new and boy-looking, to press upon him with my lips and feel him yield and press back. His glorious fullness, as I ran my fingers under the elastic of the leg holes, ran my fingers alongside his bouncy round scrotum, tickling him there, making him hard. Making his nuts hard and bouncy and round and perfect. Making his dick push out his briefs: so plump and long and succulently willing.
I pulled the briefs aside, stretching them, to reveal his beautiful bag. All big and round and sticking out from him and so boy-maddening cute. I smelled and kissed and mouthed them, breathing on them, poking my nose into their exuberant bounciness, inhaling their faint, clean musky perfume, opening my mouth to take them part way in, to feel their realness, their soft special boyness, to wonder at their curious coolness, to nuzzle in the valley between his soft boy thigh and the magnetic boy sexy realness of them. I licked there, tasting the saltiness of his skin, smelling his private smells, his personal fragrances. Touching them with my curious lips, sucking in air to pull them part way between my lips to feel their mass and size. To feel their texture and weight. To revel in the glory and the dignity and the perfection of this tender perfect budding maleness.
I kissed them a final time and, licking the length of his silky dick, slid up to surrender to his tender succulent kisses, to the sweet taste of his mouth, to surrender to his desire and his will.
He stripped me quickly, the same as I had him. Snuffled tickly-sweet around my nuts. Exposed me taut and ready, ran his fingers, his lips, his tongue on my nuts, straining to be touched by him, to be held, to be felt and caressed, to be kissed and mouthed by the perfect rosy lips that I had kissed. That were kissing me, now, where I had never been kissed before. Where I had never realized I was beautiful. Where I never realized I wore a treasure so pleasurable for another to hold, to kiss, to smell, to cup, warming them, as he took my shaft in his hand, held it electric-urgent, held it frantic to be touched, frantic to be stroked, to be kissed, to feel his wetness engulf it, to feel his mouth caress and confine it, electric buzzing sexy as his lips grip the very root, where it joins my body, where I can feel he has all of me, all of me, where I can feel the sweetness of his tender mouth on my frantic penis-urgency, where he moves his tongue and my butt hole spasms, spasms, spasms, as a wave of intense, burning sweetness washes over me.
"Holy fuck!" I breathed. "Oh, God, I never dreamed it could be so good."
He chuckled on my begging penis and sucked me suddenly harder, longer, faster. I was only the plunging phallus, the quivering, demanding nuts in their bag of joy-to-be-touched. Harder, harder, the wave taking me. Lost inside the feeling, just my singing head and the blaze of wonder from my dick and nuts, the sensation mounting suddenly and taking me up, away, my sound coming out: a wailing noise, as I peak and my seed is torn from me in searing joy, flung forth I know not where, as I quiver and burn with the tender torment of his lips. Returning to savor the last of my cumming, to savor the relentless tenderness of his lips as they own me, as they make me obey their tender tyranny in now-mindless worship.
I want him to kiss me...