Date: Sat, 22 Apr 2006 04:30:38 EDT
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: games with stefan 11

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  Some of the events and characters are inspired by
actual events and people I encountered in my younger days, but the
presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray
actual, historical persons and events.  It's just a story.

Thank you to those faithful readers who have given me ideas, constructive
criticism, and occasional rebukes.  You have made the writing process even
more enjoyable.  Though some of the ideas that have been shared with me
would be too extreme for my characters to use. . . .

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these at home.

No triathletes were harmed in the writing or reading of this story.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual
acts, please do not read any further.

Games With Stefan

by eddyriha

Chapter #11-Weekend at My House (Part 4)

After resting atop Stefan's spent body for awhile, I climbed off him and
removed all the pins from him.  Then I untied him from the bed and walked
him into the shower, where I soaped both of us up and then rinsed us off.
It took a few minutes to be sure all the wax was off his skin, but when the
shower was turned off, my boy was bright spanking clean,. just like new.
And I knew he was ready and raring to play some more games.

I picked up the car keys which my mom had given me before they left, and I
had Stefan crawl on his hands and knees down to the garage.  I held his
leash, which was still attached to his collar, and had him go before me, so
I had a full view of his ass as he went down the stairs.  Once at the
bottom, he waited on his hands and knees, looking up at me expectantly.  I
opened the door into the garage, and he crawled out onto the cold concrete
floor.  I walked him over to the workbench, where I tied his leash and had
him kneel, head down, hands at his sides.  While he waited in that
position, I unlocked the door to the Ford.  The folks had taken our van on
their trip, which was a bummer, as that would have been the best vehicle
for the game I had in mind.  But the Ford would do the trick.

I cleaned everything off the back seat, and made sure there was nothing on
either of the front bucket seats.  Then I untied Stefan's leash and led him
to the passenger side door, opening it, and allowing him to crawl in and
seat himself.  I shut the door behind him.  Then I went to the driver's
side and climbed in.  Both of us were still naked, but I wasn't planning on
driving anywhere on this "trip."  After all, I was still fifteen, Stefan
was still thirteen, and I had no intention of breaking any traffic laws.

I put the key in the ignition and turned it enough so the radio came on.  I
put it to the local Top 40 station, and a song we both liked came on.

"Put on your seat belt," I said, and he complied.  I put my belt on and
went through the motions, as if I were starting up the car.  But I wasn't
really turning on the engine or anything like that-both of us knew the
dangers of running a car engine in a closed garage.  And I didn't want to
risk any of the neighbors discovering our games, so I wasn't about to open
up the garage door.

"Close your eyes, and imagine we're driving down the street."  I gave him
verbal directions to imagine, as I pretended to shift gears and steer.  We
weren't going far, just up into the hills south of town, to a familiar
overlook we'd each been with our families on different occasions.  From the
overlook, you could see all the way into downtown and, if your eyes were
good, you could make out the state capitol building.  At night, the park
was technically closed, but in those days they didn't have a gate to keep
people out, so the parking lot at the overlook was a notorious makeout spot
for couples.

Stefan's face lit up when he realized where I was taking him in our
imagination.  As we neared the parking lot, I leaned over and kissed his
cheek, and he fairly blushed with pleasure.  He was already erect, but then
again, it didn't take that boy any time at all to rise to any occasion.
And he wasn't touching his dick, either.  He had started to, but one quick
slap on his wrist ended that attempt.

We were in the parking lot.  I was describing the scene to Stefan, whose
eyes were still closed.  I leaned over again and kissed him on the lips.
His lips responded to the pressure and soon our tongues were sliding
against each other, sharing the space of our two mouths as if they were
one.  I ran my fingers through his hair and moved my lips to nuzzle his
left ear.  "I want to make love to you," I whispered.

"Please, please make love to me," he whispered back.  His hands were on my
shoulders, in my hair, reaching for my erection.  "I want to feel you
inside me."

The radio station was playing some pop songs we liked, songs about making
love or songs that could be about making love if you wanted them to be
about that.  I didn't have the radio on too loud, just enough so we could
hear hints of the music, hints that charged us up even more.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, then his.  Then I climbed into the back seat and
stretched myself out on the vinyl, as he slowly crawled over the stickshift
and onto the seat beside me.  Somehow, as we imagined ourselves doing this
in the back seat of a car parked in a public place, it gave to the game a
certain sense of daring and risk, heightening our passion.  Stefan knelt
half over me, reaching down to kiss me, as I pulled his body onto mine.
The moment our cocks touched, the contact sent a charge through our two
bodies, causing us to grip and grasp at each other, each trying to gain the
upper hand and control the direction of our sex.  I was the stronger, and
so I soon had Stefan beneath me, on his back, his legs flat against the
seat.  I lifted his right leg up until the foot touched the ceiling,
allowing me access to his ass.  I forced a finger, then two, into his hole,
making no effort to be gentle.  We were, after all, imagining ourselves in
a public place, and so speed was of the essence.

I leaned his leg back until his knee was even with his head, then I pushed
the other leg back on the other side of his head.  His ass was now
completely exposed, completely vulnerable to my attack.  I thrust my cock
at his waiting hole, entering without any resistance.  I forced myself all
the way in, causing Stefan to gasp and his eyes to widen.  I held it in
that place for awhile, bracing myself against the side door behind me.  I
enjoyed the feeling of being inside my lover, a feeling I would gladly
savor every moment of my life, if I could.  But it is not to be.  So I
began thrusting in and out, with each thrust causing his feet to slap
against the side window above and behind his head.  He had closed his eyes,
and a smile slowly crept across his face.  He was clearly enjoying this
every much as I was.  Twice I approached orgasm and pulled out, allowing
myself a moment to catch my breath, before I resumed making love to Stefan.
Finally, I couldn't wait any longer, and in a series of sudden sharp
thrusts, my cock exploded into his ass, as each thrust forced him further
onto his shoulders and made his feet slap-slap-slap against the car
windows.

Even as my dick softened and slipped out of Stefan's well-worked boyhole,
he had his own shuddering and shivering as he erupted into another dry
orgasm.  I wrapped my arms around him so I could share the feeling as it
ran through his body.

He opened his eyes, and in the semidarkness he found my lips and kissed me
with his.  "I wish it could always be like this," he said.

"Me, too."

"I wish-" he began, then stopped.

"What do you wish, my love?"

"I wish-oh, you'll think it's stupid."

"No, I won't."  Sometimes Stefan would come up with something really inane,
like the younger kid he was.  He wasn't really stupid, though a lot of
people thought he was because he didn't try as hard in school as he should
have.  Most of the time, around most people, he tried to put on airs of
being more mature than he was.  Maybe it was that he was comfortable and
relaxed around me that he was willing to say or do something "immature"
sometimes.  I didn't mind.  I could usually work that kind of thing into
one of our games.

"Well, I was wishing that maybe someday you could marry me."

I didn't say anything.  Sure, at the time it sounded kind of silly, because
two guys didn't marry each other, the same way that two girls didn't marry
each other.  But I had been thinking for a long time about how I'd like
someday to spend the rest of my life with Stefan.  I could just imagine all
the games we could share with each other if we lived together, in our own
apartment or house, where we wouldn't have to worry about any parents
getting in the way.

"I said you'd think it was stupid."

"No, I don't think it is stupid," I replied.  "I would love it if we could
marry each other.  I'd marry you tomorrow, if we could."

"Why don't two guys ever get married?" he asked me, after we'd finished
kissing some more.

"I don't know."

But I had an idea.  "Wait here," I said.  I climbed out of the car and went
over to the workbench.  I turned on the light above the bench and powered
up my father's electric saw.  He had some old pipe in his stash of odds and
ends at one end beside the bench, and I cut off two thin pieces off the
pipe.  I then sanded the pieces on the electric sander, so that all the
rough places were worn smooth.  It took me a few minutes, but Stefan was
waiting patiently in the car, his eyes closed, his fingers running dreamily
across his chest.

I crawled back into the back seat and knelt beside my boy.  I took his
right hand in mine and asked him, in a serious voice, "Stefan, would you
marry me?"

He giggled at first, then saw I was serious as I slipped the homemade ring
on his finger.  His eyes widened as he said, "Yes, I would."

I handed him the other ring, and he asked me the same question, received
the same answer, as he slid the ring on my finger.

Then we kissed and lay together for awhile on the back seat.

         * * * * * *

We must have dozed off because I suddenly became aware that I was stiff and
chilled in the position I was lying.  Stefan's breathing was normal and
regular, an indication he too had fallen asleep.  Without disturbing him, I
slipped out of the Ford and went upstairs, rubbed some Vaseline into my
asshole, put on a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, and grabbed a long flannel
shirt that my father used to wear.  It was faded and patched and had been
given to me, since I liked to wear baggy old clothes to do work around the
house.

Stefan was sitting up, rubbing his eyes, when I came back to the garage.
"Here, put this on," I told him as I handed him the shirt.  He wriggled
into it and buttoned it up.  It hang just above his knees.  The boy looked
damn sexy in the old shirt, but I had other business in mind at the moment.
I drew his two wrists together behind his back and tied them together.  He
had become so accustomed to that that I never had trouble convincing him to
let me bind his wrists.

I shut off the workbench light and grabbed the house keys.  "Let's go for a
walk," I said.  I opened the back garage door and led him outside.

The night air was chill on our skin, even more of Stefan who was barefoot
and bare underneath the shirt.  But he didn't complain, and he allowed me
to lead him slowly and carefully across the backyard and into the woods.  I
took him to a tree behind Sesame, the place where our naked games first
began.  The tree had smooth bark and it was large enough that I could tie
Stefan against it, drawing his arms behind him and binding the wrists
together on the other side of the tree.  He was positioned facing out from
the tree, and I spread his legs apart, tying the ankles as close together
as I could behind the tree.  He was covered enough by the old flannel shirt
that anyone who happened to stumble upon him would not realize, at least at
first, that he was really naked from the waist down.

"What's this game?" he whispered.

"It's a surprise," I whispered back.  I started to walk away.

"Please, sir, don't leave me," he begged.

"Be quiet," I hissed.  I felt around on the ground in the old fort and
found an old rag we'd left behind in one of our previous sessions there.
It was dirty, but I did my best to shake out the dirt before I stuffed it
into his mouth.  "I'll be back."

I think you can probably imagine where I was going.  When I arrived at
Sandro's house, his bedroom light was the only one still lit in the house.
I couldn't tell if he was still awake and packing or if he had fallen
asleep with the light on.  I had discovered some time ago that he sometimes
did that.  And the light sometimes stayed on all night, as a result.  I'm
not sure his parents ever noticed.

I tossed a couple of pebbles against the glass.  No response.  I tossed
another couple.  No response.  As I threw again, the curtain pulled back
and a sleepy Sandro appeared, wiping his eyes with his fingers.  It took me
a couple of minutes to make him realize who I was and that I wanted him to
come to the door.  Finally, he got the message and came to the back garage
door, dressed in his cotton pajamas.

"What's up?" he whispered.

"Were you sleeping?" I whispered back.

"Yeah."

"Well, sorry to wake you, but I wanted to come by and see you again
tonight."

"I gotta finish packing," he said.

"Surely, you can spend a few minutes with a friend," I whispered into his
ear.  I kissed his ear, his cheek, his lips.

"My parents are asleep upstairs," he replied.  "If they hear us-"

"They won't if we go into the basement."

That convinced him.  He led me into the garage and down the steps into the
basement where I'd sucked him earlier in the summer.  The couch was covered
in plastic, ready for the movers, as was the pool table.  Everything else
in the basement was boxed up.

"Sorry it's not very comfortable," he whispered.  Even though we could
probably have spoken in normal voices and not been heard in the rest of the
house, we kept whispering the whole time.

"That's OK," I replied.  "What I'm here for isn't about comfort."

He looked down at the floor.  "My ass still hurts from this afternoon.  You
gusy really fucked me hard."

"I know," I replied.  "But I'm not here to fuck you."  He looked up, the
interest obvious in his eyes.  "I want you to fuck me with your big cock."

He hesitated.  "If it hurt Stefan, and he'd already been fucked by you, how
much more will it hurt you?"  He was right.  While I had a larger hole than
Stefan, being that everything else about me was bigger because I was two
years older, my hole had never before had anything quite as large as
Sandro's cock inside it.  Maybe that was what fascinated me, what drove me
to meet Sandro at this late hour in his basement.  I wanted to know what it
felt like when Sandro had fucked Stefan up the ass.

"Well, I don't know-"

I slapped him across his face.  "This isn't a request," I said.  "I want
your cock inside me, and that is that."

I pushed him onto the pool table, causing the plastic covering to crinkle
loudly.  I unbuttoned his pajama top in one motion and slid down his cotton
pajama bottoms in the next.  The elastic waistband snapped into place just
below his knees.  I then dropped my shorts, not bothering to remove my
shirt or sneakers.  Instead, I climbed onto the pool table, squatted over
the waiting boy, and slowly lowered my ass onto his already erect cock.

Once the head was inside me, I began to have second thoughts.  The pain was
immediate and unbearable.  It wasn't like anything I had ever felt before.
It was kind of like being rammed by a red hot poker.  Or maybe more like
being broadsided by a tractor trailer.  I could just imagine how Stefan
endured it.  Or how he had ever endured me when I first fucked his ass.

It took a couple of minutes for me to make it all the way down to the base
of his shaft.  Then I paused there for a few more, to catch my breath and
to prepare for the assault that was about to begin.  Even though I would be
doing all the work, with Sandro just lying there, hands at his sides, his
solid tool was the real force.  As I began to slide upward, drawing my hole
up his cock, it felt like I was being ripped open in reverse.  Then I was
back down, Sandro's cock seeming even larger the second time down.  I kept
sliding up and down the shaft, forcing myself to endure the pain, and in a
few moments, I felt Sandro tighten.  His ass muscles clenched together, his
cock enlarged a little more, and then he burst into spasms as his cock
disgorged his hot, sticky cum inside me.  As his cock pushed at the sides
of my hole, bursting out its load, my own cock began to buck and spurt,
spraying cum across Sandro's bare chest, his chin, his mouth, his nose.

I leaned forward and licked the cum on his chest, on his chin, even as his
tongue swabbed the cum from his lips.  I kissed him, my tongue depositing
the cum from my mouth into his.  He swallowed willingly, his tongue rubbing
against mine and making me feel warm all over, even as his cock slowly
slipped out of me, leaving me feeling emptier than ever before.  In the
same way, I transferred the cum from his nose into his mouth, and he
slurped it down.

When I slowly lifted myself off of the prone boy, I saw that some of his
cum had dripped out of my hole and lay around the base of his cockshaft.
Before I could do anything about it, Sandro had taken most of it in his
fingers and licked them off, smiling the whole time.  I was beginning to
understand why Stefan had been crying earlier, why he was going to miss
this boy so much.  I had been thinking of Sandro merely as someone to fuck
when Stefan wasn't around.  But there was more, much more, to this
wonderful boy.  He was a quick learner, and he loved the taste of cum.

After we had kissed for a few minutes, I sat up and climbed off the pool
table.  "Go put on a t-shirt and shorts," I said.  "And some comfortable
sneakers, too."

"I really should get the rest of my packing done," he replied.

"That can wait.  I know you want one more go at Stefan, don't you?"

"Sure, but-"

"No buts," I said.  "Well, except for Stefan's butt, that is.  I've got him
tied to a tree not all that far from here, in the woods."

"Shit, yeah!" Sandro exclaimed.  There was excitement in his eyes.  "Just
let me go to my room, I'll be back in a few."

I waited what seemed an eternity in the backyard before Sandro suddenly
appeared in the darkness at my side.  Silently, he followed me as I led him
into the woods, to the place where Stefan was bound to the tree.

When we arrived, I could tell, even in the darkness, that Stefan had fallen
asleep.  He slouched a little against the tree, but otherwise, he was in
the same position I'd left him in.  I motioned to Sandro to wait a moment.
Then I knelt down and untied Stefan's ankles. He opened his eyes and
sighed, "Whaaaa. . . ." before Sandro kissed him on the lips and the
question turned into a moan of happiness.

With Sandro's help, I lifted up Stefan's stiff legs and rested each ankle
on one of Sandro's shoulders.  He didn't need any lube, both because his
cock was still slippery from the Vaseline and cum in my ass and because
Stefan's ass was still lubed and stretched from earlier games we had played
that day.  Still, Stefan cried out when Sandro's hard cock penetrated his
hole.  Sandro kissed him again, then forced himself all the way in, pushed
Stefan's legs back so far that his knees slammed against the tree behind
the boy's head.  I was helping hold Stefan's legs up, so Sandro could
concentrate of fucking his buddy's ass.  Because he had just come a few
minutes before, Sandro took his time building a rhythm and thrusting
gradually faster and faster into Stefan.  The boy being fucked gasped for
breath, moaning and sighing and begging, "Sandro, fuck me, fuck me harder!"

When Sandro finally came, both boys were exhausted.  We all clung to each
other, to the tree, for a long time, trying to catch our breath.  Then I
realized that there was the faintest hint of pinkish light off to the east,
and I nudged Sandro.  "You should head home, it's going to be dawn soon," I
whispered.

He nodded and gave me and then Stefan a final kiss.  After Sandro had
vanished into the darkness of the woods, I untied Stefan's wrists and
massaged them to work out any stiffness.  Stefan clung to my neck,
burrowing his head into my shoulder.  I picked him up and began the slow
walk back to the house, where I staggered upstairs and took my boy to the
master bedroom, where we snuggled under the sheets to sleep the remainder
of the night.