Date: Tue, 19 Oct 2010 18:55:24 -0700 (PDT) From: Louis Ryan Subject: First Sight Part One First Sight By: Lolouis This story depicts a sexual acts between teenagers and stepbrothers and shouldn't be read if that doesn't get you off/ is illegal and the po-po are watching your shit. Seriously, I'm an AMAZING writer but it's not worth the moral guilt (which you shouldn't have anyways, shits fictional) or SWAT raid. Email me at loui.louis1234@yahoo.com if you liked this/have some constructive criticism/this got you off. But especially the third one. ... Part One. Our relationship was relatively tame until I turned twelve and Chris turned fourteen. Before then, the most we had ever done was touch each other briskly, and moon each other in a way that could've been seen as childish behavior had we been walked in on, but, between us, edged towards experimentation. My father and his mother had met a few months before deciding that we should all have a play date at the park- I remember the very first time I saw him, the blonde mop of hair, the greenish eyes. Hell, that day was the first time we sat next to each other and he "accidentally" dropped his hand onto my lap. I was ten, he was eleven. A few weeks later he turned twelve and I took a picture of his bulge, completely clothed. I held onto that disposable camera for weeks after, neurotically worried that it would somehow be seen as evidence of something horrible, but of what exactly I didn't know. My twelfth birthday came and a medium sized party was held. The ice-cream cake was chocolate- I had told my then-stepmom it was my favorite when actually it was Chris's. Even then, I was trying to make him happy. After everyone had left my dad went to sleep because his job sometimes required him to wake up early, and that next morning was one of those days. Eventually his mom went to sleep too, after cleaning up the kitchen a little bit more. Chris and I played a video game I had received that day until eleven, when he turned to me and asked, "Wanna get some cake?" The look in his eyes made me melt, but I pulled myself together and just shook my head. In true adolescent style we snuck downstairs, opened the fridge as quietly as possible and grabbed for the container- he was behind me, and as he reached for it his chest touched my back and his arm ran across my neck and I was suddenly paralyzed. We stood there for a second until he said, "Are you gonna get it or move out of the way?" I sidestepped and grabbed a few leftover paper plates. I went for the knife block but he said, "No, no, I'll do it, I'm older." "By what, a year and a half? It's my birthday!" I said a bit too loud, and he shushed me. If anyone else had done that, I would've freaked- I wasn't a very quiet kid- but when he did it, his lips curled and he laughed a bit and I didn't know why, but all I wanted was to touch him. He cut two huge pieces and told me to bring them upstairs. A few minutes later he showed up in my room empty-handed. I tilted my head. "Where are the forks? Spoons?" "Shit," he harshly whispered. That was another thing- he was a teenager, and as such lived in a foreign world where you could curse and shave, probably, and this made him even more unattainable. But at the same time, I wasn't sure why I wanted to "attain" him in the first place. "Do we need them?" I gave him a confused look and asked, " Yes. We can't just eat without hands. I mean, I have napkins, but-" "Settled. Unless you're worried about my mom freaking out." I grinned mischievously and said, "I'm not if you're not." ... About halfway through our pieces it began- I dropped a small chunk of cake on my shirt and furiously rubbed at it with my napkin. Eventually I took my shirt off and gave up. Out of nowhere Chris did too, throwing his shirt next to mine. He smelled like a man and the second his shirt peeled away from skin a rough wave of it hit my nose- all I could do was watch as his sprouting muscles stretched and puffed up when he pulled cake towards his mouth. "Why did you take your shirt off?" "I don't know, it's hot in here." We looked at each other and went silent. After we finished our cake we noticed there was no more napkin to use to clean our hands. After a few beats, Chris shrugged and wiped his hands on his shorts. "I'll tell my mom a piece fell on my or something." "Yeah, but I can't have cake all over me too." In a sudden act of bravery I scooted over and placed my sticky, stained hands on his thigh. "What the fuck are you doing?!" he whispered, but when I didn't move my hands, he just looked at me and smiled. I wiped my hands up and down the fabric covering his thigh, until they were completely clean, but I didn't stop rubbing. Instead, I worked over to the crotch of his shorts, getting faster and faster until I felt what I wanted to feel- he got hard. And not just regular hard like I would sometimes or every couple of mornings. His was strong, forcing cargo fabric to tent around his head. At that point, all I knew was that after doing this for a while, I always felt good. I unbuttoned his shorts and pulled the zipper down in a split second, then pulled the elastic band of his boxers until his cock was just barely allowed out-that first time, I didn't even see his balls. All I knew was that if I didn't go fast enough, one of us would stop, and I knew I would die a little on the inside if that happened. So I went fast. I spat in my hand, worked up and down his shaft, ran my palm over his cock head, did circles with my thumb over his glands, all while examining him-he was at least two inches longer than me and there were hairs clustering around the base of his dick. I was mesmerized by how he throbbed every now and again, how good the heat coming off of him felt in my hands, how he moaned slightly. He was mesmerized too, as he's since told me. The way I took over and began deftly pleasuring him; the wildness in my eyes. But right before he came, I saw something in his eyes- wonder. I can remember that the best, him coming. His cock suddenly got harder, bigger, turned an angrier shade of red. The slit I had previously referred to as a "pee hole" became a sideshow attraction in that second- clear liquid leaked out quickly, followed by a rushed airborne stream of white, thick juice. That combined with how his body shook, how his burgeoning six pack trembled at that second and how his cum landed on them, with the second and last real shot, landing in his pubes. After two or three much smaller groups avalanched down his length, he went limp, save for his erection, which stood at attention for a little longer. Instead of saying anything, I got up, locked the door (mostly so the moment wouldn't be ruined, although his mom would probably not like it) and flicked the light off, turning the playstation off as I passed it. I licked the small amount of cum that had gotten on my hand because I felt the need to, and found I liked it. After cleaning his torso I grabbed him a pillow and laid next to him, my hand resting on his broadening shoulder. ... This would've been a onetime thing, something I never talked about, had I not woke up in his bed the next morning when his mom knocked on the door, talking with a nervously angry tone, our bodies curled together and his hand clutching mine.