Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2006 01:46:32 EST
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: games with stefan 4

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.

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

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

My thanks to those readers who said kind words about the first two chapters
and gave me ideas and inspiration for the continuation.

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

This chapter is a "preliminary episode" to a future chapter that will
involve all three boys.  Thus, it may seem out of sequence from the
preceding chapters.  I end up writing them as the inspiration (or whatever
you call it) hits.  But, one hopes, when the story sequence is completed,
there will be a discernable pattern that emerges.  Or, at least, the reader
can skip around to various chapters much as a movie watcher may do with a
DVD player and a remote. . . .  (OK, sloppy analogy.  I'll try to do better
next time.)


Games with Stefan

by eddyriha

Chapter #4-At Sandro's House (The Preliminary Experience)

Sandro was Stefan's best friend at school.  They played soccer together,
and they ran around all summer together-all summer, that is, when Stefan
and I were not playing our games.  Sandro was about the same size, the same
age (thirteen), with slightly curling dark hair and an easily tanned
complexion.  He liked to be outside in his shorts and a tank top, or a
half-shirt that just came below his nipples (something popular that
summer), or even better yet, without any shirt, giving everyone a glimpse
of his boyishly muscular arms and chest.  When I first met him, I would
have fallen in love with him if I hadn't already been in love with Stefan.
As it was, I had never made any move on Sandro, because I never wanted to
let Stefan think I had stopped loving him.  Later, I came to the
realization that while Stefan was the kind of guy one would always love and
want to spend one's life with, Sandro had the kind of natural raw sexuality
that makes a guy entirely fuckable.

One afternoon, not long after the adventure at Stefan's house, I was
hanging out in the front yard when Sandro came by to see if Stefan was
around.  But Stefan and his folks were off visiting some cousins, and
Sandro was clearly disappointed.

"I was hoping to hang with someone this afternoon, doing something," he
told me.  He and I had never hung around much by ourselves, though we had a
couple of times.  Sandro lived on the next street, where I rarely went, and
so the occasions happened usually only when he came looking for Stefan and
found him not at home.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"I dunno.  I've just been stuck at home with my mom and my three sisters,
and I can't take it anymore."  He kicked his soccer ball in the air and
headed it in my direction.  I deftly caught it in my instep and slammed it
back toward him.  I was never much of a player, but in gym class I could
hold my own with the other kids.

So we ended up kicking the ball around awhile until we got bored with it.
Then we sat on my front steps awhile.  I would have invited him inside, but
it was a Saturday and my folks and my little brother were home, so that
made any games out of the question.  I was already somewhat aroused by the
sight of Sandro's tanned abdomen, which was exposed by his half-shirt.  And
he was wearing the dark blue shorts, the ones with the white trim, shorts
that, when he sat down in front of you, exposed a glimpse of underwear.  I
so longed to get my hands on the elastic and slip it down and finally see
what lay beneath his white briefs.

Finally, Sandro said, "Wanna come over to my place?"

"OK," I replied.  "But aren't your sisters there?"  Like most teenage guys,
neither Sandro and I really liked hanging around with sisters.

"Yeah, but we can go down to the basement.  They never go there.  And we've
got an old pool table we never use anymore."

I could immediately picture all kinds of uses for that pool table.  "Sounds
like a plan," I said.

In a few minutes, we were at Sandro's house.  We briefly popped our heads
inside the front door, to let his mom know we were here but would be
hanging out in the basement.  She said it was OK.  So we went through the
garage and down the steps into the cellar.

It was dark and a bit musty.  Like many of our neighbors, Sandro's parents
hadn't converted the basement into anything more than a storage area.
There were the obligatory washer and dryer, the furnace, that kind of
thing.  At one end, however, behind a partial partition which subdivided
the basement, there was an old carpet, an old sofa with some of the
stuffing coming out, and the pool table.  It wasn't a great table-the felt
was faded and stained, and the surface was slightly warped in places (as I
discovered the first time I tried to make a clutch shot).  We played a
couple of games, and then Sandro went upstairs briefly for a couple of
Cokes.

We were sitting silently on the sofa, sipping our sodas, when Sandro
suddenly said, "Stefan tells me you play games."

What?!  I couldn't believe Stefan had said anything.  As much as I was
immediately aroused by the suggestion, I was cautious in my reply.  "What
stories did he tell you?"  I wanted to ask also, "What games have you
played with Stefan?" but that could wait.

"Well," Sandro said, "he told me you two like to do stuff together.  Adult
stuff.  And he really likes it a lot."

"Yeah, we do fool around." I said in a noncommittal tone.  "Fooling around"
could mean anything I wanted it to.

Sandro set down his empty Coke can.  "I was wondering-if it's OK with
you-if we could play games, too.  You know, fool around like you and Stefan
do."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" I asked.  "Some of our games become
rather intense."

"It's OK with me."  It was damn straight OK with me, too.

"If we do this, you have to let me know if there's anything that's too
extreme for you, OK?"  He nodded.  "And you have to let me be in control,
OK?"  He nodded again.

"OK.  Wait here."  I got up and went looking through the basement before I
found something I could use to bind his wrists: an electrical extension
cord.

I came back to the sofa and told Sandro to stand up.  I lifted his
half-shirt off him, and then I brought his hands behind his back, binding
them securely, but not too tightly, with the electrical cord.

"Not too tight?"  I asked.

He nodded.  "It's OK."

I pushed him down onto the sofa, then lifted his legs one at a time and
removed his sneakers and tube socks.  Then I leaned over him, kissed him
lightly on the lips.  When he didn't react negatively, I kissed him more
firmly.  Then in a moment I was slipping my tongue into his mouth.

We stayed in that position for a few minutes, then I broke the kiss.  I
slid my fingers under the edge of the elastic in his shorts and gently
pulled them down, exposing his perfect white briefs.  He erect dick was
clearly outlined in the underwear, and I gave it a playful squeeze.  It was
more solid than I expected for a thirteen-year-old.  More solid than mine
was at that age.  I slid my fingers under the elastic of the briefs and
slipped them off.  His dick sprung free, already swollen and full.  Damn! I
thought to myself.  This guy has a bigger cock than mine.  Sandro was at
least six, maybe seven inches.  Easily the biggest I ever encountered at
that point in my life.

He had some pubic hair, though not as much as I did.  What was funny was
that he didn't have any armpit hair yet.  I nuzzled his soft bare underarms
before beginning to massage his dick gently with my left hand.  He began to
moan and he closed his eyes, a smile on his face.  But I wasn't going to
pleasure him first.  That defeats the purpose of control.

Quickly, I stripped off my shirt and shorts, my sneakers and socks.  The
whole time, Sandro was watching me, a look of expectation on his face.  I
then knelt down over him, one knee on either side of his chest.  Placing my
right hand behind his head, I lifted it up.  "Lick my balls," I commanded.
"Suck them into your mouth."

He was a little awkward at first, but soon got the hang of it.  His tongue
was rough and sandpapery, compared to Stefan's, which had until then been
the only one on my balls.  I lowered myself over him and said, "Now lick my
cock."

He swiped his tongue along my shaft, up and down, from the base to the
head, which he circled with his tongue.  Then he licked the slit, taking up
the drop of precum that had gathered there.  After he had licked the length
of my cock again, I said, "Open wide."  When he complied, I thrust it in.

His mouth couldn't take the whole of my cock at first.  He gagged a little,
before I pulled back.  "Now remember, no teeth," I said.  "Just lips and
tongue."  He murmured his "Yes."  So I thrust my cock back into his mouth,
feeling the roof of his mouth with the sensitive top of my dickhead.  His
lips wrapped around the shaft, like he was an old pro at this game.  Stefan
must have been doing some extracurricular activities with this boy, I
thought to myself.  I wasn't sure whether to be jealous or grateful that
now I had a second cocksucker to pleasure me.

He sucked and sucked, but all I felt was the moist and warm feeling of
having my cock in a willing mouth.  To try to get him to be more active in
his sucking, I pulled out a little, then rammed the back of his mouth, then
again and again.  His eyes watered and his cheeks puffed out as he tried to
regain control of the cock in his mouth.  Then I felt teeth and slapped him
hard on the side of his face.

"What was that for?" he mumbled through the cock in his mouth.

"I said no teeth.  I just felt them on my cock."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry don't mean shit," I said as I slapped him again, this time on the
other side of his face.  "No teeth means no fucking teeth."  I was sounding
angrier than I really was, but it had the proper effect.  Sandro submitted
without any further hesitation.  Unless Stefan had hit him during their
games, I was probably the first person ever to punish him with any force.
His mother and father never laid a hand on him, and like Stefan, he ached
for some properly and effectively administered discipline.

As I continued pushing my cock into the boy's mouth, I became more and more
aggressive, even though he gagged each time I touched the back of his
mouth.  Suddenly I pushed past that barrier, into his throat.  This brought
a major gag reflex, but as I held my cock in place, he stopped gagging.
His eyes looked up at me, questioning.

"Hold still," I said.  "This is for real."  And I moved my cockhead gently
inside his throat, feeling the contracting muscles as the sought both to
expel and to swallow the invader.  That was enough, and I began discharging
stream after stream of cum into Sandro's throat.  He made efforts to
swallow, but still some of the cum filed his mouth and dribbled on his
chin.

"Swallow it all, boy," I said as I slowly withdrew my cock.  "It will make
a man of you."  I held my cock before his lips.  Once he finished
swallowing, I said, "Now lick all the cum off my cock."  When he had done
that, I had him hold out his tongue, and I squeezed out some residual cum
from my cock onto his tongue.  Once he swallowed that, I leaned over him
and kissed him, forcing my tongue into the mouth I had just fucked.  It was
warm and salty, tasting of my cum, as well as the spaghetti Sandro had had
for lunch.

Then it was his turn to be pleasured.  I lifted the boy, his arms still
bound behind him, onto the pool table, with his back on the felt surface
and his ass resting on the raised edge of the table, perfect for me to
reach his dick, which was standing at attention.  Unlike Stefan, whose dick
was perfectly centered even when fully erect, Sandro's leans to his left,
just as mine does.  I spread his legs apart so I could have full access to
the boy's balls and dick.  He tried to sit up a little and see what I was
doing, but I pushed him down.

"Close your eyes," I said, "and imagine you're in heaven."  I certainly
was.  I brushed the boy's balls with my lips, then kissed and licked his
warm, slightly sweaty crotch.  He wiggled a little at the unfamiliar
sensation to that sensitive part of his body.  I nuzzled his crotch again,
and he gasped aloud.  Again, and he almost screamed out.

Realizing that any further stimulation would get Sandro howling so loud his
mother and sisters would come running, I paused and grabbed his half-shirt,
stuffing it into his open mouth.  He tried to push it out at first, but I
whispered, "Better this than having your Mom come to see what's happening."

He nodded, and so I went back to work.  The shirt-gag muffled his cries and
yelps, as I proceeded to lick his crotch, his soft wrinkly balls, his stiff
six-incher.  I knew I'd never get the whole thing in my mouth, and my
throat was more resistant to penetration than Sandro's-that I'd figured out
long before.  So I continued licking and nuzzling the cock with my lips,
gradually working Sandro into a state of writhing, squirming desire so that
when I slipped the end of his cock into my mouth he gave a couple of
muffled screams and then began cumming.  He shot string after string of
cum, a whole mouthful, and even then it seemed like he wasn't going to
stop.

"Holy shit!" Sandro exclaimed when I had swallowed his cum and removed his
gag.  "What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.  "You just came, that's all."

"Yeah, I know that, but shit!  I just fucking unloaded in your mouth!"

"That's cum, sperm, spunk, jizz-you know, the white stuff."

"I didn't think I could do it yet," he said.  "Never done it before."

"Not even a wet dream?"

"Nah.  Once or twice I thought maybe I'd done it, but it was a false alarm.
Even when Stefan and I played around, I never had that shit come out.
Though I've wanted to, for the longest time."

I bent over his prone body and kissed him deeply, making sure to pass to
his mouth any residual cum in my mouth.  "You are awesome," I said.  "I'm
glad I'm the first one to make you shoot your cum like that."

I stood up and was reaching for my clothes, when Sandro said, "I want you
to fuck me."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, I've been wanting you to show me how it's done.  Stefan was going to
teach me, but he was afraid he wouldn't get it right, and then I'd always
do it wrong.  That's what he said, anyway."

"Not much chance of getting it wrong," I said.  "It's one of those things
that kind of sorts itself out.  Here's a dick, there's a hole.  That kind
of thing."

"Yeah, I know, but Stefan said the way you did it was so awesome. . . ."

"OK," I said.  "You got anything here we can use as lube?"  I walked around
the basement, but there was nothing that could serve the purpose.  I wished
for something, anything that I could use to lube the boy's ass, but other
than spit-and I wasn't sure how that would work-I had no options.

Sandro was disappointed when I told him I wouldn't be able to fuck his ass
because I lacked the necessary lube.  "Damn," he said.  "I could run
upstairs to see if we've got anything in the medicine cabinet in the
bathroom, but we might not get any peace and quiet afterwards.  My youngest
sister sometimes attaches herself to me whenever I come home, and she will
shadow me the rest of the day.  It's kind of creepy, but she's my little
sis, and that's what they do sometimes."

As disappointed as I was, I wasn't about the let the opportunity go to
waste.  "Hold on a sec," I said.  "Maybe I can't fuck your ass, but there's
more than one way to skin a cat, as the saying goes."  Rummaging around the
assorted junk in the basement, I had found another electrical extension
cord.

I picked Sandro up and laid him back on the sofa.  I brought his two ankles
together and bound them firmly with the second cord.  Then I stretched him
out full length on his back.  I felt his balls and his crotch, both of
which were still wet from my licking and sucking them a few minutes before.

"This is a different game," I explained to Sandro, when he looked at me
with a puzzled expression.  "Since we don't have anything to lube your ass,
it would hurt too much if I fucked you.  But there are other ways to fuck."

I knelt over him, one knee on either side of his legs.  I gently lowered
myself so I was stretched out on top of him.  He met my lips with his, and
for a few moments we simply lay there, enjoying each other's bodily warmth
and kissing.  Then I reached between us with my right hand, maneuvering my
hard cock into the warm, damp space between his upper thighs.  My dickhead
rubbed along his crotch as I slipped between his legs.  With his legs bound
together, it was a snug fit, though not as tight as I knew his ass would
be.  Still, I found I could move my cock up and down, in and out, without
causing him pain.  He moaned and sighed happily as he felt the pressure of
my cock between his legs, and as I balanced myself with my right arm, I
gripped his cock in my left hand and began pumping it, in rhythm with each
thrust my own cock made against his crotch.  It was maybe more awkward than
the usual first time, but soon I got in a regular rhythm, and Sandro merged
his breathing with my exertions, until he suddenly came all over my left
hand-and I burst out my own load between his legs, squirting cum all along
his crotch and between his thighs, leaving some on the underside of his
scrotum as I pulled out.

For several minutes, we lay there and kissed, the cum on his chest and on
his legs forming a sticky bond between the two of us.  Sandro was a great
fuck, that was true, though he was not quite the same as Stefan, my first
love.  I knew there would be more times Sandro and I would fuck, but my
heart would always be Stefan's.  And, maybe once in awhile, the three of us
would have games together. . . .