Date: Sun, 21 Sep 2008 09:54:43 -0700 (PDT) From: d ap Subject: Four Friends Four Friends -- Chapter One: September 17-18, 2007 By Doc This is a work of fiction, and is entirely drawn from my imagination. It deals with sexual relationships between young boys. I started this tale just one year ago. Formerly this tale was written in Spanish as spoken in Chile. You'll soon realize my English is very bad, if you are a purist of English language, you'll be disappointed. So I recommend you to leave now. Knowing that situation I asked JJ (jjjanicki@gmail.com, see "Justin" in Youth Friends in Nifty Archives) and he recommended me to write to David Clarke (gothmog@mail.anonymizer.com, see The Jeremy Fielding Collection in the same section); David, using his time, accepted to enhance my English, and his task was hard; the results are really great, I many thanks to these kind persons). So far, David translated into readable English two chapters, and with the third, this story can be finished, although it has more than 400 pages. If you want to continue read the tale, you should accept bad English. Some other words. The characters in this story do not use condoms, but of course this is fiction; in real life you should always take precautions. Some of the characters also smoke marijuana, which again is not really recommended. If you do not enjoy this sort of story, or if it is illegal where you are, then please stop now. Otherwise, enjoy! Part One: Introduction. "See you later, Marcelo. Be careful, and we'll be back on Wednesday evening," said my mother, just before she left to go to `the Beach', a dull-as-ditchwater little town in central Chile. I was torn between happiness and anxiety at being home on my own. I mean, it wasn't actually the first time, so I knew what to do and where to get food, and if all else failed I could always phone out for a pizza or some other crap that could be delivered for me to eat at home. So, my folks had gone. Great. The whole town was celebrating: this year: the national holiday of Chile seemed to be going on for a very long time. So I decided that I was going to do something, too -- more than just my homework, I mean. I did my math, finished off a drawing project, and then... then I was done. So I decided to take a shower; but first it was time for a cigarette -- or something closer to a cigar, to be exact. I stood on a chair and got down my package (the one that held my grass), rolled myself a huge joint , lit up and inhaled deeply. And in a matter of moments I was starting to feel strange, detached -- but wonderful -- feelings... I went into the bathroom and removed my beach shorts and my top (which was a tee shirt) and dived into the hot water. September is the start of spring in Santiago, but you still need to keep warm. The water ran over my body, feeling silky; the foam from the shampoo, and its scent, seemed to take me outside myself... the touch of the soap, then the water once more, it all felt unreal... the feeling of my hands touching my body felt incredibly sensual, so much so that I could not bear it: it seemed to be happening without my control. I barely resisted the urge to masturbate. I got out of the shower. The steam was making strange, distorted images in the mirrors which covered the walls of what we called our Hall of Mirrors, (which was our name for our bathroom): all four walls were covered in mirrors seven millimetres thick, which allowed you to examine yourself happily from every angle. I guess they were really for my mother's benefit... I looked at myself in the steamed-up glass. Fourteen years old (well, thirteen and a half, really), wet, below-shoulder-length hair, (darker than usual because it was still wet), a thin but not too skinny body (people in my family were often skinny, but NEVER fat), adolescent hips... and, of course, my bubble butt. Each cheek was plump and almost perfectly curved. I knew that girls found it attractive, and so did boys and men -- from the age of ten up to over seventy. My sister, my mother and even my father had all given it a little pinch from time to time, saying they were convinced that my ass had been formed by angels. Between my legs, my penis was a mere four centimetres long when soft, but when stiff rose to a good fourteen centimetres long (one for every year of my life, I told myself) by three centimetres across (and, yes, I measured it regularly). I was circumcised: my foreskin had been too tight when I was a child, and so my parents had had it removed, leaving it looking like a small, skinless cucumber. I began to dry myself. Without being narcissistic about it, I think I'm a good-looking boy: I got on well with girls, and at parties some of them often came on to me. But... somehow it never quite worked for me. Yes, I found them enchanting; there weren't all that many, but enough, I suppose: Antonia, Daniela, Maria Elena, Claudia, Flor, Javiera... I'd touched them and been touched by them all, because adolescent sex play is common in twenty-first century Chile. They had sucked me and I had licked them, smooth twats and hairy ones, breast, nipples... Each touch of the towel on my body, as I thought about this, made my breathing more and more ragged...and from out of the throng of people I was thinking about, there arose Francisco Javier -- beautiful, cute, and fifteen years old. There had been a party one Saturday night: both of us were drunk and drugged up. Paco (we called him Paco because his parents were Spanish) touched my ass, and the electrifying sensation amazed me; and, under the influence of alcohol and drugs I made no objection. At first I suppose I was a little reluctant, but soon I began to enjoy it more and more...He took me in his arms and with no hesitation he planted his lips on mine. His lips felt really good... at first he kept them closed, but soon he opened them, allowing his tongue to snake out into my mouth and to begin moving against my own. I kept my eyes open, but I couldn't help responding to him. Our kiss went on for ever, leaving me breathless, but all the same I held on to him, pulling him into an even tighter embrace. My erection came into contact with his and we began to move against each other. "You are such a queer, Paco," I said, between reproaches which were patently insincere. "Dude, you have such an irresistible ass," he replied. "Mmmmmhhh," I replied, and suddenly we were on the kitchen floor, and he was running his hands all over me, down my back, round my waist and then under my clothes as far as my boxers. My belt got in his way, and then... Then the adventure came to an abrupt end, because his father yelled downstairs, "Paco, what's going on, it's three o'clock in the morning!" We heard him coming down the stairs, so we quickly got our clothes back into a presentable state. My penis was rock-hard and seeping, but I stuffed it into my trousers as best I could, and Paco did the same, his face turning pale. "Come on, it's late -- and it looks to me as if you've both had too much to drink, too..." Paco's dad had a strong Spanish accent. "Goodnight, Don Paco," I said as Paco's dad dropped me off at my house at four in the morning. Obviously my family were all asleep, so I went straight to my room without even bothering to brush my teeth. I got into bed, my mind ablaze with pictures, feelings and desires... In less than a minute the hardness between my legs was back: I could still feel Paco's kiss burning on my lips, and the warmth of his hands as they had caressed my body, my shoulders, my chest, my back...and then his hands had gone inside my trousers and he had touched my ass, although my boxers had still been between his hands and my bare skin... I could resist no longer: I took hold of myself and began to beat off, mercilessly, the images still burning on my retinas and the phantom sensations still caressing my skin. I couldn't control it, nor did I want to: this was already the most phenomenal and overwhelming jerk-off I had ever had since I first started doing it about three years ago. I could still feel Paco's lips against mine, and those few seconds when his tongue had been pressing against mine were more vivid in my mind than any fantasy I had ever been able to conjure up before. An amazing orgasm shook me to my core - fffffffffffssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh ...aaaaa!!!! I moaned like an animal as my body shook as if electrified and then arched right up, only my head and heels still in contact with the bed. The first spurt went so far that it landed in my hair, the second and third hit my face -- and that third one landed in my mouth, too -- and the rest landed on my chest, and my stomach; and finally dripped down into my thin pubic hair. Slowly my body relaxed and settled back onto the bed, exhausted. Part of what I had produced was on my lips, and I was still sufficiently lustful that I opened my mouth and licked it in, that strange, semi-thick liquid, which tasted neither salty, nor sweet, nor bitter...if anything, it reminded me of the taste of a still-green persimmon. But it fed the flames of the one image that has dominated my imagination ever since I began my bouts of solitary but feverish masturbation: how would it feel to suck a dick? It was hard to cope with that thought, but I was simply unable to stop thinking about it: it was a deep-seated, secret longing. So I was, in the strange language psychologists use, "hetero curious". ************************* And the problem with this was that when I looked at girls I was only looking at their cute asses: I was uninterested in their pussies. It was boys who were more likely to attract my attention, not only their asses but also their packets, and I found it fascinating -- especially when they wore tight trousers, which made it easier for me to imagine whether each boy's tool would be fat, or with a large head, or curved when it got hard. I got on my motorbike and put on the helmet, making sure that my face was hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses as well as the helmet's visor -- anything to keep the cops from seeing me clearly: fourteen-year-olds -- okay, thirteen and a half-year-olds -- are not allowed to ride motorbikes. I stuck a couple of joints in my pocket and rode away from the house. I rode down Costanera Norte, Forestal Park, San Martín St, St Ignacio St, 10 de Julio St, and Matta Avenue, until I finally reached O'Higgins Park. There are places in the park where you can buy alcohol and dance, and so on, and these are called `ramadas', because they are constructed using branches from eucalyptus trees. I chained up the bike and went for a stroll -- or, if you prefer, I went talent-spotting, looking to see what sort of people were around the place. Good-looking ones, for preference. There were plenty of people around: most were modest in dress and behaviour, but there were also a number of lolos and lolas (so called because of Nabokov's novel `Lolita'). I felt like a hunter surrounded by prey, though it was a very varied prey and I was by no means an expert hunter: I didn't even know what I was looking for, exactly, so I looked at girls' asses and tits and pussies (though those were usually hidden, of course). But I also checked out male asses -- and packets, obviously -- enjoying the variations in size and so on. Mostly I checked out boys of my own age, but even old men in their twenties looked cool. Of course, checking out all this talent soon had the inevitable effect and I started to get hard, and pretty soon it was so solid that I had to zip up my parka to hide it. But that didn't stop me fantasising more and more and getting increasingly worked up into a sweat. I watched a very pretty girl who was obviously older than me. She saw me looking at her and walked up to me, ruffled my hair and said, "You're a cute little puppy, aren't you? But you're far too young to be out here in the big, bad world. Go home and drink some milk." The humiliation I felt made me blush like a tomato. I mumbled something like, "sorry" and crept away, wishing the earth would swallow me up. It took me at least ten minutes to recover from that. I went on further into the park, which was full of people, and eventually I reached the Ellipse, where literally hundreds of kids my age were flying kites. Seeing them enjoying themselves like that completed my recovery and I started eyeing them up. I was feeling aroused again, and so I started looking at them boldly, the way some of the girls had looked at me at parties. This seemed to work pretty well: some of them became aware of my scrutiny and it distracted them enough that they lost control of their kites. When they looked at me I simply stared at them until they looked away, ashamed -- or at least, that's what I told myself they were feeling. I had one unpleasant experience, though: there was one guy there of around twenty -- much the best looking guy there! -- who was flying a crappy kite. I watched him without trying to pretend not to, and the bastard turned to me and said "Fag!" It really got to me, though I just frowned, pretended I hadn't been interested and just kept walking. After that I decided to stick to looking at boys of my own age. The boys seemed receptive to my flirting, which I did in such a blatant way that it was obvious what I was doing, while still holding back enough that I could back off if it became clear that they weren't interested. Each one I looked at seemed even more delicious than the one before, and because they were concentrating on their kites I was able to check out their asses unobserved, while from the other side I could see their faces -- and, of course, their dicks and balls. And looking at them didn't make me even remotely ashamed -- in fact, it just made me more and more horny. And one of them caught and held my eye... His gaze was so intense that it completely threw me: my stupid flirting smile disappeared from my stupid flirting face like the fog blown away by the wind. We looked into each other's eyes and a whole world of secrets travelled between us. It was too much for me and I lowered my eyes, but I couldn't keep them off him and I looked into his face again, unable to resist. And he was still there -- it wasn't a mirage. He was about my size, blond, with his hair arranged in complicated braids that ran right down to his neck. He had a clear complexion, strange, slightly slanted -- but in no way oriental-looking -- green eyes that were totally captivating, a sharp, finely-moulded chin, fairly narrow shoulders, his chest covered by a tee-shirt which nevertheless showed that he was thin but nicely-formed... He had narrow hips, and trousers that showed a fair-sized bulge between his legs. Thin arms and thin hands that were now hanging loose at his sides. He could tell that I was staring at him in fascination, and suddenly I felt ashamed; I lowered my eyes and walked away without looking back. I felt completely frustrated: until now I'd been eyeing up the talent boldly, but suddenly I had come across the most beautiful thing I'd seen in years -- and it had overwhelmed me. I found an empty bench near the lagoon, sat down and lit a cigarette. The noise of the park faded away, and the only thing still in my mind was the mind-blowingly beautiful vision of the boy with the braids... Smoke trickled from my mouth, and I became aware of a voice in my ear: "Hey, man -- can I have a cigarette?" I turned to see who it was, and felt paralysed: it was him! Oh, God... he had followed me! And now here he was, asking for a smoke... "Huh? Er... yes, go on, help yourself," I said, fumbling the packet from my pocket and passing it and my lighter to him. "Where do you live? In the city, I mean," he asked, sounding a little unsure of himself. He lit his cigarette, coughing a little as he inhaled. "I'm from Recoleta." I was lying: I'm actually from La Dehesa, which is about the poshest and richest areas in the whole of Chile. "What about you?" "Not far, on the junction of San Diego Street and Tarapacá," he said, and I believed him. "I'm Camilo," he added, offering me his hand. "Marcelo," I replied, taking and shaking it, feeling a warm glow as I held his hand and barely able to suppress a growing flush. "How old are you?" he asked, taking another drag and coughing again, showing that he hadn't done much smoking before. "Fourteen. Well... actually I'm thirteen, but I'll soon be fourteen," I told him, looking into those strange, beautiful eyes and feeling almost hypnotised by them. The six months that I was still short of my fourteenth birthday suddenly seemed completely irrelevant. "Wow, I'm thirteen, too! Gimme five!" he said, offering me his hand again -- and this time I could see that he was affected by the contact between us: he quivered a little as our hands met. It wasn't a huge reaction, but it was definitely there. "I'm in the eighth grade at Manuel Barros-Borgoño," he said, and that was me well and truly in the shit, because I couldn't answer him: I knew nothing about this part of Santiago and so couldn't possibly know which schools were near to where I was supposed to be living. I looked at him and decided to tell him the truth. "I'm at the Eagle's Nest," I told him. The fees for that school are about a quarter of a million Chilean pesos a month. "And I don't live in Recoleta, either: we've got a place in La Dehesa." I hadn't intended telling him that, but it sort of slipped out. "So, you're a rich kid," he said. "What are you doing round here, then?" Again I decided to be sincere. "Looking for talent," I admitted. "Ah," he said. We finished our cigarettes and I couldn't think of anything to say to him at all -- not one damned word. So instead I said, "Do you fancy a joint?" And his eyes lit up. We stood up, and my inner pervert took control once more, so I pushed my parka out of the way by sticking my hands in my pockets, knowing that this left my ass exposed, and then I set off ahead of him so that he could look at it as much as he wanted. We walked until we reached the fence that surrounds the park, checked that nobody could see us and lit up the two large joints I had made before leaving the house. I inhaled deeply, and so did Camilo, and pretty soon the drug was affecting us both. My body trembled as he watched me, betraying that I was becoming lost in the drug... we sat on the grass and stared at each other, lost in each other's eyes, the rest of the universe having faded into insignificance. I couldn't resist the impulse to reach out and touch his beautiful face with my forefinger, and I started to caress it -- first the small nose, then the perfect eyebrows, and finally his mouth, that set of lips that was driving me crazy... and then the bloody kid did something I could never have imagined, something that was way beyond anything I had expected: he parted his lips and sucked my finger into his mouth. I thought nothing could have made my dick harder than it already was, but I'd been wrong, because this did the trick straight away. And as if that wasn't enough, Camilo then did something totally irresistible: he reached out and laid a finger on my lips. Naturally I opened my mouth and let it slide inside, licking it. And there we were, sucking each other's fingers. It was the most erotic thing I had ever done, even putting times when I had sucked girls' nipples in the shade. This one finger was way better than that. And then Camilo took an initiative which I was far too cowardly to take: he pulled his finger out of my mouth, gently drew mine out of his, and then slowly moved his face towards mine. It was obvious that I wanted to kiss him, and that he wanted to kiss me... so we kissed... Our lips joined. There was nothing else: all that existed was him and me, our mouths glued together, the sensation huge and totally overwhelming. I opened my mouth, and in the same way that a weakened dam gives way under the weight of water, here it was a torrent of sensations that was driving me, and they were equally unstoppable. Camilo understood and opened his own mouth, his tongue touching mine -- and the dam broke and the sensations overwhelmed me -- and Camilo, too, whose response was the same as mine: "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhh, ffffmmmmmhhhhh!" My penis throbbed uncontrollably, and I'm sure the same thing was happening to him. Finally I had found my prey and it was caught in my claws... just as I was caught in his. It grew dark. Actually we didn't care about that, but we both realised that it would be better if nobody saw us. I wanted to believe... *** The wind blew through my hair as I rode back along Apoquindo Avenue. Camilo was wearing my helmet, clinging onto my hips as he rode pressed against me. He was both scared and excited, so I did my best to shorten the journey between O'Higgins Park and La Dehesa by speeding all the way. It took us thirty-five minutes to get there. I opened the outer gate and watched Camilo's face, which grew more and more astonished as he took in the size of the property -- which belonged to the General Manager of the largest telephone company in South America, so it was... well, big. It had three floors (or `storeys', as my Mom called them) and it was clad in pink stone brought all the way from the Maipo River basin; it had a huge swimming pool, eighteen meters long by four wide; and it had a massive, 50,000 square meter garden. Two Rottweilers, each weighing about 120 pounds, came to meet Camilo, who was clearly scared of them, but both dogs planted their paws on his chest and started licking his face, and pretty soon they were leaping around him like puppies. As guardians the dogs were hopeless: they looked intimidating enough, but they were like spring lambs. There were four Audis in the garage, one of which was a two-seater coupe. In short, this was the house of a fabulously wealthy family, one of the richest in the whole country. Yes, my family was rolling in it, and we had the tastes -- and the vices -- of the very rich. Because of the joints we'd smoked in the park our movements were a little uncoordinated, but we made it as far as the kitchen, made ourselves a couple of sandwiches, opened a couple of beers and then made our way through the house. The only room I was not allowed in was my father's study, though I was allowed in my mother's: she was a professor at SEK University, teaching languages or sociology or astronomy or cellular biology or maybe even the black arts -- whatever the hell it was, it made no difference to me. Or to her, either, probably: basically she was an ultra-rich Chilean kid, who had learned her English at Oxford and Berkeley, and who had got her job because of her social standing and connections. We reached my room and Camilo stared in fascination at my eighty-inch flat screen TV, the computer I used to surf the net, my games console and various other electronic toys that were in the room. But I hadn't brought him here to show off my wealth or my toys: I just wanted his little tongue in my mouth once more. I stepped up to him and embraced him. Where were his lips? I needed them so much... ah, there they were... my tongue pushed its way between them, and -- at last -- I FOUND it. I held him tight, feeling that I needed him as much as I needed oxygen -- I just had to have that tongue against mine... my whole life had been leading to this moment... "What kept you?" he murmured reproachfully as I moved against him. His ass... yes, that's what I wanted to investigate, and he didn't seem to have any problem with that, either. My hands roamed over those perfect buttocks, sliding across them and teasing at what lay between them -- and then he joined in, his hands dropping to my ass -- and I was sure that nothing in the world could feel as good as Camilo's hands on my butt. His finger roamed over the cleft between my buttocks and then found and pressed against my anus, and that felt amazing -- so I did the same thing, probing for and finding his weak point and then pressing against it. "—MMMMMMhhhhhgggghhhh!" -- that was the only sound he was able to make, because our lips were glued together. I wanted more, an even closer contact: I needed bare skin. I grabbed his tee shirt and pulled it up to the level of his armpits, feeling a huge wave of heat from his body. He grabbed my tee shirt and did a better job, getting it all the way off and leaving me naked from the waist up. Our lips were still stuck together, but I forced my tongue between them and started to explore his mouth, and he quickly did the same; and at the same time I decided to risk it... I moved my hand round to the front of his clothing and grabbed at his dick, which felt every bit as hard as mine -- and now it was at my mercy. I could feel it quivering inside his trousers... but I needed more, so I seized his belt and undid it, and then wrenched my own belt open and undid my jeans, dragging them down in my uncontrollable urge to be naked with him -- and he too dragged his trousers down below his knees... We kissed fervently once more, only this time the thrusting of our tongues was matched by the thrusting of our hips as we ground our erections together... I needed to grab his cock, to feel it... yesssss!!! There it was, a cock, his beautiful cock, touching me... it was right by my hand, so I grabbed it... WOWWWWWWW!!! That was amazing, incredible...that hot, hard thing, moist at the tip, stuck against me fingers; and soon... "Ahhhhhhhh," I breathed as he took hold of mine just as I was holding his: I'm sure he was keen to moisten his fingers with my liquid, the same way that was happening to me... What we were doing to each other was affecting both of us. I caressed every millimetre of his shaft and head, revelling in the feel of his velvety skin. He was uncut, which made his penis feel even more amazing -- to me, at least: I played with his foreskin, pulling it up and then back again, and each time I did this Camilo moaned -- our lips were still firmly pressed against each other's, of course. He didn't hold back, either, and the way he was handling the head of my penis soon had it leaking quite a lot. Unfortunately I suddenly found that I had a problem, and quickly it went from being just a problem to being something close to an emergency. It was highly embarrassing, but I had to tell him I needed to go to the bathroom -- which is a polite way of saying that I was desperate for a shit. He looked at me and smiled, his lips shiny with our saliva. "Ummm... could I come with you?" he asked. That was a pretty unusual request, and I looked at him in surprise. "What -- to the bathroom?" I asked. "Yes. See, I... I want to watch you... you know, having your shit." He looked a bit embarrassed himself at this point. Well, that certainly was unusual, and it soon developed into the strangest thing I had ever been asked to do in the whole of my admittedly short life. I couldn't really argue, though: a combination of the excitement I was still feeling and the effects of the drug we had taken earlier had reduced me to a state of desperate need. So I headed for the bathroom and Camilo followed me. It was a rather ungainly progress: it's hard to walk properly with your trousers round your knees, and I probably looked completely ridiculous. Once we got there Camilo took charge. Her took me by the shoulders and guided me into place, trying to get me to sit on the seat the wrong way round, so that I was facing the tank. I couldn't do it with my trousers still on, so I took them off -- leaving me in nothing but my socks -- and then sat down the way he wanted me to. Camilo knelt down behind me and reached out, taking hold of my buttocks, one in each hand. I watched him, smiling but still feeling obscurely ashamed about it. He now controlled my ass and opened my crack, at which the contents of my colon escaped in a hurry -- and of course because Camilo was positioned with his face in the immediate vicinity he got the full force of the smell. Surprisingly he didn't seem to mind that in the least: in fact he looked up at me and said "More!" eagerly. So I pushed, and a further offering appeared. Camilo did his best to open me up as far as possible, pushing so hard that it hurt. He moaned in pleasure. It's unusual -- hell, it's almost unheard of -- but apparently there are people that enjoy this sort of thing, and he was obviously one of them. "That's all there is," I told him, and he relaxed his grip a little. "That was brilliant," he said, excitedly. "If you say so," I replied, in a matter-of-fact way. I supposed there would be time enough later to ask why he found this a turn-on. My erection had subsided while I was emptying my bowels, but when I started wiping myself with the toilet paper I noticed that Camilo had a happy look on his face and an amazingly hard erection. "Camilo," I suggested, "could we take a shower? It'd be good to get properly clean." "OK," he replied, enthusiastically. I took off my socks, and while he was getting his clothes off I started the water and set the temperature, and then we got under the flow together. It was fun watching him entering the shower with his swollen penis leading the way. The water quickly drenched us, his little braids -- fourteen of them, to be precise -- suffered a little under the flow and started to unravel a little, but he said that he didn't need to wash his hair properly. To be honest I didn't really need a shower -- after all, I'd had one shortly before leaving the house -- but it was a perfect opportunity to get naked with him so that we could examine each other in every detail. I readjusted the shower-head to point at my body and started to soap myself up, and almost at once I could feel other hands helping me. I relaxed and let him get on with it: the touch of his hands on my naked body felt amazing. Once I'd finished washing my hair he took the soap, made plenty of lather with it and then started applying it to my face (carefully avoiding my eyes, nose and mouth) and then my chest. "Hehe, you look just like Santa, complete with the beard," he said. "Asshole!" I answered. He worked hard at washing my chest, paying special attention to my nipples, which soon responded to his attention my standing out like hard little bumps. He worked his way down my ribs to my stomach, and then when he reached my hairs (which are fairly sparse, to be honest) he applied more soap to his hands and produced a lot more lather. My dick had got hard again long before he reached it, and it was exciting, not to say faintly obscene, seeing it sticking out of a welter of foam. He didn't touch it directly at all, but he didn't need to in order to get me going. I turned and offered him my back, wanted him to clean it for me, but the damned kid just wouldn't leave my dick alone. He grabbed it with one hand, while with the other he made a cursory wipe over my shoulders, more or less bypassed my back completely and moved straight on to my buttocks. When his hand, slippery with soap, reached my buttocks I couldn't restrain a gasp of "Ooohh! Fffss!!" as he started caressing my bum with one hand while wanking me off in slow motion with the other. It was the most amazingly sensual and exciting feeling -- it's hard to describe how brilliant it felt. His slippery hand slid slowly up and down my ass, caressing it. "You've got a really cute ass, dude -- it's so round, so smooth, so... mmmmhhh," he said enthusiastically, in a hoarse voice. I couldn't resist the urge to move back against him, and straight away I found what I was looking for: his penis. I got its shaft trapped between my buttocks like a hotdog in a bun. "AAAhhh," he gasped, as I rubbed against him, feeling it slip along my crack. "No, wait," I said, "I need to see what it feels like..." I turned to face him, held him in my arms and gave him an enthusiastic kiss, which he returned in the same vein. I took the soap from him, lathered my hands and began to do to him what he had done to me, though rather more rapidly: I did his face and chest, not wasting much time on his tits: I wanted to get my hands on his dick, that target that was just waiting for me between his legs...I reached it. This was my first real opportunity to look at it openly: it was rigid, about fourteen centimetres in length, with the foreskin slightly retracted, the tip of the reddish head just peeping through. I retracted his foreskin completely and the head stood free, like a tiny potato with a beautiful dimple in, damp and exciting, with a tiny drop of whitish stuff seeping from the end. I spun him round and pulled him against me, wanting to get my penis between his cheeks. Camilo allowed me to do this -- in fact, it was obviously what he wanted, because his thrust his buttocks back against me, squeezing my erection between them. It slipped out, and at once he grabbed it and put it back where he wanted it. Now it was my turn to be the sausage in the hotdog, as Camilo held my penis between his legs and began to move, giving me a mind-blowing jerk-off with his ass cheeks. I took his head and turned it towards me so that I could kiss him, and our tongues intertwined, and Camilo slowed his gyrations almost completely so that we could concentrate on our dizzying kiss. We moved apart and smiled at each other. I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, handing him a towel that was big enough to cover him completely and taking another for myself. We dried ourselves and went back to the bedroom. I watched as the depraved boy went to his trousers and extracted a HUGE joint from his pocket: it was at least seven centimetres long and almost half a centimetre wide. I smiled at him and he lit it. "Listen," I said, "if I smoke that monstrosity there's no way I'll be able to take you home. In fact I wouldn't even be able to get you as far as the Militar School subway station." "Well, there's nobody at home waiting for me, so would it be a problem for me to stay here?" It didn't bother me at all, to be honest, and in fact I was pleased he had suggested it. He'd already said that he liked the house, although I think it was really all the crap I owned that he liked, the motorbike, my Nintendo console, all the hundreds of games I had for it, the computer, the video and so on. And there was no risk of the neighbours realizing there was someone here: first, nobody was interested in anyone else's business in this neighbourhood, and second, the grounds outside the house itself were pretty extensive: we had 50,000 square meters, which meant that from the house to the walls, which were two and a half meters high, was 300 metres. As I've said before, my family was rolling in it. Camilo had told me that his folks were employees, which put them in socio-economic class C. That didn't bother me at all: my parents might have been millionaires; but I wasn't. "What about a beer to go with that joint?" I suggested, and he flashed me that beautiful white smile again. We were still wearing our towels like togas, so I passed him a pair of slippers and headed for the kitchen. On the way I opened the windows to clear the smell of the joint. In fact I knew that both my parents smoked grass: although they took care to hide it from me and my sister, but we had both caught the smell from time to time, and seen the remains of the spliffs which they had carelessly left lying in the ashtray. I'm pretty sure they used coke or heroin too. We smoked our joints and drank some beer. It only took about three hits of the spliff to get me off my face: I coughed and thought about taking a fourth draw, but decided against it. Camilo went as far as five inhalations, and then he started coughing and his eyes began to water. The silence washed over us, but then our senses started to become more sensitive and we started to notice things in a different way: the noise of the refrigerator became music; the lights in the kitchen became brighter; and the scents in the house, and especially those of the fruit in the kitchen, became more heady. Before I became incapable of movement I suggested that we might go and watch the television, so we went back to my room. I admired his nicely formed body as I followed him, and especially his buttocks... We lay on the bed and turned on the TV, zapping between channels for a bit until we hit on MTV, which was showing a heavy rock program. The lights pulsed in time with the heavy metal music and I became entranced, starting at the TV and feeling one with it. I reached out for him and took his hand, and he held mine without hesitation -- in fact he clung to me. I turned and looked into his face, stunned by the beauty of this boy who was lying beside me and holding on to me. He drew me close to him, returning my admiring glance with one of his own. He put his head on my shoulder. I could smell his body, and I could see the way his hair was braided, and it looked amazing... I felt almost hypnotized by him. I gently lifted his chin so that I could look into his beautiful green eyes, and then it was his mouth that became the centre of attraction for me: I moved slowly towards him until our lips touched gently, as if it was our first kiss. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me against him, pressing his lips against mine with gentle intensity. I opened my lips and he did, too, and our tongues quested out as if they were searching for water or honey -- and we began to kiss, a sensual, exciting kiss. I hugged him and pulled him against me, wanting to feel his body against mine, and he felt the same way, pressing against me. We pushed our hips together. I had an erection and so did he, and our solid pricks began to conduct a battle with each other through the towels that covered us. He snatched mine away, leaving me naked, so I did the same to him, and we began to attack each other eagerly. Our tongues continued to fight their private battle while our hands roamed over captured enemy territory, exploring. Camilo put his hands on my ass and explored my buttocks, while I went straight for the main target and captured the soldier between his legs. I slipped my free hand onto his buttocks and did to him what he was doing to me, and he in turn moved one hand to my penis. Slowly we masturbated each other, and -- combined with the feeling of each other's ass -- it felt amazing. I put my legs between his and raised them, making it easier for our hands to reach areas that were more secluded, but which were now open for capture. "Uh, Camilo? Could I touch your hole?" He gave me a huge smile and replied, "Marcelo, may I touch your hole?" I smiled and kissed him on the lips once more. Camilo began a full exploration of my ass, touching the middle of it. I could feel one of his fingers caressing my anus gently and smoothly, just as I was doing to his young hole. There was an incredible heat emanating from it, and he was moaning now, just as I was... mmmffgg... The feeling of the head of his penis in my hand was driving me crazy, bringing back all my fantasies from before: to suck a cock! I drew back from our kiss and moved to his neck, and then to his chest, his nipple... Camilo seemed to get the picture, as he lay on his back, opened his legs wide and allowed me to do whatever I wanted. I worked on his nipples for a while, leaving them hard, and then moved further down and licked around and into his navel. Camilo's only response was a soft moan: ah, ah, aah, aaooh! I grabbed his cock and he jerked as if electrocuted. I drank in the sight of his penis, stroking it like a new and well-loved toy. His foreskin was still dutifully protecting his helmet, but I carefully drew it back, revealing the head, damp and reddish in colour... I gave it a light lick and Camilo shivered. I used my tongue to clean it, washing away all the juices and replacing them with my saliva. I moved on to his balls and licked them, feeling every wrinkle in the skin with my tongue. And then I returned to his shaft, tonguing it all the way back up to his cockhead. Camilo shivered and moaned, clenching his fists around the damp towels with every lick and stimulus I offered him. I opened my mouth and took it between my lips, holding it there and exploring the flavour of him as it entered my mouth, and although the taste was bland it did nothing to dispel my dream. I licked all round the head, drawing it further and further into the lust cavern of my mouth, until it hit the back of my throat and almost made me gag. I had to back up a little, betrayed by my complete lack of experience. I took a second or two to recover from this unpleasant experience and then started to slide it slowly into and out of my mouth, gradually speeding up until I was going at a feverish rate. Camilo was only able to emit guttural sounds as I jerked him off with my mouth, and each time I took a little more in, and now, although the gag reflex was triggered again, these were less and less intense with each stroke. Finally I could no longer feel them, and at that point I was able to accommodate it all the way to the back of my throat, even getting it far enough in for his sparse pubes to tickle my nose. I forced the whole thing in, even getting part of his scrotum in as well: his entire woody was inside my mouth -- all the way, dude! "Oh, my God... stop... shit! Stop! Aaaghhh... Iiii... Iiii... IIIiiiiii... I am going to CUM, aghhh, hoa... fffhj—" But nothing was going to stop me now. Four or five more deep strokes, and Camilo lifted his hips and his semen exploded out of him, gushing straight down my throat. I went on and on swallowing the thick liquid, which tasted like unripe fruit, and the last couple of spurts were not quite so powerful and stayed on my tongue. And Camilo's penis slipped out of my mouth, still throbbing in time with the beat of his heart, and as it softened a final drip fell from it onto his belly. I licked that one up, too. And with my mouth still full of his semen I moved up alongside him and kissed him fervently, wanting him to share in the taste. Obviously Camilo and I were lacking experience, but we knew the general theory of what we were doing. He accepted my kiss and allowed part of his semen to pass into his mouth, and I got the impression that he was delighted to take it from me in this way. "Wow, good cum," he said. "Have you done this before?" "No," I replied. That was my first time, and I can tell you that it was fucking brilliant!" Camilo took some deep breaths to try to steady his breathing. "What about you?" I went on. "Have you done that before?" "Well, no, not that. But I have done some other stuff." There was a secret hiding here, I thought, and when he didn't immediately explain I made a gesture with my head that was a clear demand for more details. "Didn't you find it a bit strange that I wanted to watch you having a shit?" he asked. I gave him a clear nod. "Well," he went on, "there was this time... I was with a friend, we'd been smoking weed and she was off her face. We were both naked and we'd had a great fuck. We were both lying on our stomachs, and she said she needed a shit but couldn't be bothered to go to the bathroom, and the crazy tart just spread her legs and asked me to open her crack -- get what I'm saying?" (I nodded) "And... well, I did it, man! I held her hole open and she started to shit, and this massive turd appeared -- about as big as the one you did tonight -- and slid all the way out... and her hole looked completely clean. I was horny as hell and I just couldn't stop myself from licking her hole..." This story grossed me out: I just find shit repulsive -- no way could it ever make me horny. "And since then," he went on, "I've always been fascinated by the idea of licking holes. The best wanks I've had have been when I've been fantasising about licking a girl's hole... or," he added, suggestively, "a boy's..." This last bit had a magical effect on me: my penis, which was at half-mast, immediately straightened right up, a fact which didn't pass unnoticed by Camilo, who developed a serious expression and looked at me intently. I looked back into his eyes -- and it struck me that there was a certain similarity between his story and mine -- and maybe that was one of the reasons that we had hit it off straight away. I had frequently fantasised about having a penis in my mouth while I wanked, and in those fantasies, when the man (or whoever) came in my mouth, I came too. And these fantasies were really not very satisfying. And my friend had been through a particular experience with a special friend, and his fantasies had been coloured by that experience. Taking into account that most people seem to think I've got a cute ass, then -- given that Camilo had allowed me to live my dick-sucking fantasy -- surely it was only right for me to return the favour and allow him to live his. I smiled at him complicitly and lay on my stomach, spreading my legs to convey the message that I expected him to accept the invitation. Camilo moved alongside, kissing me and adding a gentle lick and them arranged himself head down to me in the same position, with his legs spread. The invitation was clear: he wanted me to lick him in the same way as he was going to lick me. Almost at once I wriggled my way to his ass. After all, I'd sucked his dick; why not lick his hole? (There's a first time for everything...) (AND this was Camilo...) (AND -- I actually wanted to do it...) I got my head between his legs, pushing them a little further apart. The vision of his buttocks was before me, and the thought of the small hole concealed between them was fascinating. I placed one hand on each cheek and caressed them gently, the way you might caress a small child. This stroking made Camilo groan again, a sound from deep within himself... I slowly pushed each buttock outwards, looking for the hidden treasure... ...a tiny little mouth, surrounded by wrinkles that led to a small cavity, completely hairless and a slightly darker colour than the rest of his magnificent ass. Camilo did something astonishing: he tightened and loosened his sphincter, and the little dimple pulsed suggestively. I found myself fascinated by it. I moved his cheeks a bit further apart and it opened like a little flower, allowing me to glimpse the pink walls of his rectum. Camilo gave another groan of excitement... I released my hold on his buttocks and the fascinating little orifice, and the tunnel beyond it, disappeared. I opened it up again, playing with him like this a couple of times, and on the third go I allowed my lips to be drawn towards his hole, and by puckering my lips managed to plant a little kiss on it. Camilo's body jerked and he gave another groan, his buttocks tightening at the unexpected contact between my lips and his anus. This was becoming more and more exciting: captivated by the vision and sensation of this wrinkled dimple I put out my tongue, moved it into his crack and gave him two or three timid licks. Camilo no longer said anything, just relaxed and then tensed up again at each touch of my tongue. So I decided to really go for it: I licked the entire length of his crack, from the top right down to his balls, stopping at the hole to push a little -- and I could feel it giving way before my tongue. I pushed his buttocks as far apart as I could, the hole opened before me and I pressed my tongue against it. I could feel the velvety texture of his rectum... And Camilo took hold of his own ass and pushed it so far open that it looked positively painful, but it gave my tongue a chance to get even further inside. I forced it into him, keeping it as solid as possible and pressing forward as much as I could until my nose was firmly pressed against his crack. It felt incredible, but I wanted to get even further inside him if possible. So I slid my hands underneath him and lifted him up using my forearms, keeping his legs as far apart as possible, and this left him kneeling up with his ass in the air and his chest on the bed. I knelt up behind him. Now I had a really good view of his damp hole, and as it opened a little I could see the small pink spot that was the start of his rectum. I leaned forward, attacking his anus with my tongue like there was no tomorrow. Camilo let out another groan, though I couldn't make out more of what he was trying to say than, "ohhh... Gooooooddddd... Oh, that feels so good... oooohhhhaa!" His hole was slowly opening up to me, and eventually it surrendered to my sore tongue, allowing me to push not just the tip but a good two centimetres inside his rectum. I'd thought it was going to be repulsive, but I was wrong: it was simply delicious. Each attack of my fleshy and dribbling tongue was driving Camilo crazy: he shook, he screamed, he sighed, and each time I thought he was out of breath he recovered and did it again, revelling in the treatment I was giving him. Camilo grabbed his dick and started wanking, and I forced my tongue inside him as deeply as possible. "AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh..... ggnnn, aaaooooouuuuuuuuuu!" went Camilo as I forced my tongue to its limit into his anus, and I felt that each spurt of semen was accompanied by a strong pulsation of his anus that was transmitted to my tongue, whose invasion of him was submerging all of his senses in uncontrollable waves of pleasure, leaving him almost delirious... and I was the one doing it to him -- me! My penis throbbed and twitched as if I were epileptic. A long thread of precum stretched from the tip of my dick to the bed... I was so horny... It took a while for my friend to recover fully -- some minutes, in fact -- and I kissed and licked at his dick for most of that period. Finally he came back from whichever paradise his mind had traveled to, turned to face me and hugged me. "Th... thanks," he mumbled. I looked at him in some amusement and replied to him with exquisite politeness, "You're most welcome -- any time, man!" Camilo propped himself up on his elbow and kissed me so tenderly. I closed me eyes and realized that his tongue had entered my mouth... he hugged me again as his kiss became more enthusiastic still, his tongue exploring all round my mouth, and as he thrust it yet further in I started to suck it, and he immediately returned the favor, sucking mine until it was positively hurting. And my penis was stiff and throbbing as never before. Camilo didn't mess about: he leaned forward and swallowed my dick cleanly, and in shock my eyes opened wide and I moaned, "Ohhhh, that's so goooooood!!" He sucked in the head of my cock, tasting it, and then he swallowed, drew it in even further -- and my entire cock went into his mouth, right into his throat, and he held it there without even a hint of gagging -- the bastard! I could tell he was enjoying it from the satisfied noises he was making... and then he began to give me a sensational wank using his lips and tongue... it was incredible, unimaginable -- I could feel the liquids being drawn from my body, sending astonishing waves of pleasure right through me... I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably at the magical touch of his mouth on my cock... Camilo changed position, putting himself between my legs, pushing them apart and then continuing with that glorious sucking. He bobbed up and down on my shaft, his lips squeezed together to make me feel as good as possible. Then he moved to my balls and forced both of them into his moist, warm mouth. He bent over me, licking away at my nuts and then returning his attention to my dick, taking it all the way into his mouth once again. Next he lifted me a little, his hands on my ass, and wriggled forward until my lower back was resting on his thighs, and then he lifted me a little higher, my legs wide apart, until eventually I found myself in the classic pornography position with my knees close to my own shoulders -- which of course left the most important parts of me entirely open to Camilo's ministrations. He put his mouth against my hole, and I jumped, as much through surprise as pleasure, though as my anus was licked for the first time I felt as if I was under an incredibly potent magic spell designed to suffuse me with pleasure. His tongue pressed against me, making me moan desperately -- now I could understand how Camilo had felt not half an hour previously. I put my hands on my buttocks and opened myself up as much as I could. It was an overwhelming sensation: having my hole licked by someone's tongue had to be about the most incredible feeling ever. Of course, doubled up the way I was, it was easy for him to get right into my hole, and soon he had his tongue right inside my rectum, giving me wave after wave of pleasure each time he pushed his tongue into me and then eased it out again, and indeed as the tip of his tongue wriggled about inside me. I felt completely exposed, utterly at the mercy of the incredible pleasure the damned boy was subjecting me to. "Marcelo... could I... well... could I put a finger in there?" I stared at him, jaw dropped in amazement, but I did just about manage to nod. Camilo put his pinky finger in his mouth and wet it, transferring a little wetness to the opening of my hole. I watched as he put the tip of his smallest finger against my anus, and the way it explored around the rim made me moan with pleasure. I closed my eyes, concentrating entirely on the sensations I knew were going to come. I felt him pressing a little, working his way around my entrance until he found exactly the right angle, and then he pushed. I felt my ring expand a little, sending a little shockwave through me. "Oops... does that hurt?" he asked me, though without taking his finger out again. "No," I replied. "Just take it slow." I closed my eyes once more, again concentrating on the pleasure centre that was my anus, feeling the little intruder move a little further inside... it felt good -- amazing, in fact. I welcomed the way it opened me up, exposing me to greater and greater pleasure. Suddenly his finger stopped -- though in fact it was my anal sphincter that caused the stoppage, offering a final resistance to the invasion. There was a moment of pain and I cried out. Camilo stopped. "Does that hurt?" he asked. "Should I take it out?" "No, leave it in," I said, gasping. "Leave it right where it is." My ass clenched involuntarily, two or three spasms that sent waves of pleasure all over my body. I could feel Camilo's finger tucked perfectly into my anus... so I clenched my ass again, this time intentionally, and Camilo's finger began to advance once more -- and this time it didn't hurt: in fact it felt wonderful. Pressing on past the barrier that had briefly delayed it, it advanced right into me, filling me with incredible excitement. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!" I screamed. "That's gooooooooddd... it's so goooooooooddd! Camilo, please... please do that again... pleeeeeeeeeease!!!" My friend drew his finger back and my sphincter pressed out, expelling it, and then back it came again, making me convulse uncontrollably as his finger pressed into me once more. He repeated the action a couple more times until I was no longer doing anything to oppose the movement of his finger, and then he leaned forward and took the tip of my penis into his mouth, and sucked me while he fucked me with his finger. I lost all control, shaking and convulsing beneath him, pressing against him to maximize the sensation... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!........ AAAAAAA!!..... AAAAA!!... AAAAA!" Each spurt into Camilo's mouth lifted me further and further out of myself, pushing me up to levels of delight that I'd never got close to before no matter how frantically I masturbated, or even when having intercourse with girls. I felt dismayed when his finger withdrew for the last time, even though the final sensation of it moving in me felt as good as the earlier ones had. I slipped clear of Camilo's body, still breathing heavily and moaning like a person possessed; tears falling from my eyes. Camilo hugged me hard, saying, "Oh, God, that was beautiful... you're beautiful... my precious Marcelo, I can't not say it: Marcelo, my Marcy, I love you!" And he licked the final traces of my juices from his lips and swallowed them. ------------------------------------------------------- If you're enjoying this story and want more, please write to me at dap_cl@yahoo.com -- suggestions are welcome, and I will be happy to answer you whether your comments are positive or negative -- all views will be gladly received. After all, if it turns out I really can't do this, it's better that I find out about it -- then I can stop trying to write and go back to just reading other writers' stories, rather than inflicting my efforts on an unhappy audience. I am very much aware that I'm by no means a professional writer, just an enthusiastic amateur with a deranged imagination that goes right back to my own childhood. If you like it, though, please say so -- that way I might be encouraged to keep the story going! Many thanks to David Clarke, editor and translator of this chapter.