John and Me

by CARL DICKSON

Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm
.

A tidy quote from our favorite author,
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson–2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2010 It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.


My health is sad and my eyesight is failing fast. I don't want to let that keep me from providing fresh stroke material for your personal pleasure.
Here is an old story that I dusted off and edited just for you. I hope that you are stroked while reading it.
    Call me a wuss or whatever but I just am not into parties. I am not shy by any stretch of the word but I never seem to know what to say so I just float the room and keep my mouth shut until I can get the fuck out of there and go home. That was what I thought I would do that one night that my life changed forever.
    I have one major weakness in life. His name is John. John and I have known each other forever, or at least since the sixth grade. We lost track of each other when our new house was ready for us to move into. When I was ten my dad got this wild hair up his butt to go into private practice. He ripped my comfortable life apart and moved the entire family into the big city where he was opening up his own clinic.
    I never could figure that one out because I was in the in our old town, my dad was everybody's family doctor. I got a real thrill out of going with mom to pick dad up and sit in his waiting room as he finished with a patient. When the door opened I was always pleased to see some kid from school come out with tears running down his face as his mother scolded him for being such a baby when the doctor gave him a little shot. Those kids would kiss my ass, if I knew to ask them too, if I would not tell the other kids that they cried when they got their shots. They never knew that nearly every kid in school cried like babies and the best part of it for me was that the older kids cried the loudest.
    Living in the big city was a bitch to me because there were hundreds of doctors and none of the kids at my new school went to my dad. I was just another fish in a great big ocean, unknown to anybody and everybody. John changed all of that for awhile.

    School had not started yet and I was bored out of my head. The best thing about the move was that I got my first bicycle and I was free at last. My dad drove me all around our neighborhood and in his meticulous way, he set boundaries for my exploration. Tell me a ten year old kid that ever stayed in bounds, fuck that, I had wheels, I was free, I could soar like the wind.
    My first day out I was at the edge of my territory when I heard bawling. There is something very perverse in me in that I really like to see a boy cry, not little boys but boys my age or older. Something in me wanted to hold them and tell them that everything was going to be okay and we would just hold each other close and bond; I was from a small town and had never heard of gays, homos, or queers. I sought out the source of the wailing sound and found this kid a half a head taller than me in the middle of a sticker patch and his bike heaped up against a half buried rock.
    John was wearing last year's shorts that didn't cover him very well and I got my first really up close look at a cock as it lay against the pulled up leg of his shorts. I barely noticed the bad cut on his knee as I stared at his two inch thingy and felt my blood coursing through my veins in a whole new way. My heart was in my throat and pounding like it never had before as I bent over and picked him up in my arms and carried him out of the sticker patch and set him down on a patch of grass under a nearby tree.
    I got to my knees and began to pull hundreds of tiny grass burrs from his feet, legs, arms, and hands. I removed my tee shirt and wiped his face for him then tied it around the hurt knee. I might mention that I had just achieved my Webelos rank in Cub Scouts and was looking forward to finding a Boy Scout troop in my new school, I knew first aid very well, as would be expected of the good Boy Scout son of a doctor.
    I waded back into the sticker patch to retrieve John's bike and found that it could not be ridden because of a bent front rim. I worked the bike around and managed to make it stay on the handlebars of my bike then I helped John to stand. That didn't work, he had twisted his ankle also. I learned that he lived a block on down the hill, which pleased me greatly because it was past my border and down hill to boot. I am pretty quick on my feet and I knew that to get John home in the timeliest manner I needed to carry him on my bike.
    Now two ten year old kids on a twenty inch bike with a broken bike mounted on the handlebars promised to be an obstacle, but I was already in love with John and I had to show him what a shining knight, without armor, I was. I let him sit on my bicycle seat as I stood up and peddled us on down the hill to his house.
    When I got him home his mother was not there and my tee shirt was soaked with blood. I did the only thing that I could think of and called home. My dad was just walking in the door as I burst through my tale of woe to him. He made me stop and take a breath then tell him again only this time I was told to go a bit slower. I gave him John's address and then told him the directions that I had taken to get there then hung up the phone.
    Dad arrived in a few minutes and together we cleaned John's leg up but dad said that he was going to have to have stitches. John told me where his mother kept a small first aid kit and I found a long roll of gauze in it along with some adhesive tape which dad wrapped John's leg with. By that time John's mother was home and after listening to her yell at John for the strangers being in her house she followed us out to dad's car for a trip to his clinic.
    John wore the ten stitches in his leg like a badge of honor and he told everybody that I had saved his life. Dad was not upset because I was still within my territory when I found John and only left my boundaries to take an injured soldier to the medics.
    The following week John celebrated his eleventh birthday the day after I celebrated my own birthday. He called me on my birthday to invite me to his party and I told him that it was my birthday but that I didn't know anybody so I didn't have a party. Later that evening his mother called my mother and made arrangements to celebrate my birthday again the next day with John and I was going to go on my first ever sleep over at a friend's house. I never slept anywhere away from home except at my grandparent's house or on vacation or something; now I was going to spend the night with a friend and I was sure that I was grown up. I learned a lot about growing up and what might be in store for me in the course of a few more years.
    John introduced me to everybody in his sixth grade class and touted me as his hero. He showed his leg where dad had just removed the stitches a few days before. He told everybody how I had found him bleeding to death and at the very verge of his final end. He said that I had pulled him from the very clutches of death itself and carried him off of the battlefield to safety and summoned the medics to heal him again.
    I had girls kissing me and telling me how brave I was, I had boys shake my hand and tell me how much they liked John and how glad they were that I was there to save his life. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to crawl away and hide forever. John had one more treat for me.
    From my earliest recollections I have liked to look at naked boys and men. That is one of the reasons that I hated to leave my old home town because my little group of friends liked to play games where we could get naked and look at each other, often. Nobody ever touched anybody else but we sure as hell looked. We even included the girls and compared equipment but I always looked at the boys and could care less about girls that didn't have anything but a wrap around butt crack, what good was that?
    After the party was over we helped clean up John's small house, he lived in a duplex, I had no idea what that was. My dad was a doctor and we had a big house, I had never even heard of an apartment or even anyone renting their home before. Clean up done John's mom told him that he should let me take a bath first then to get into bed. John told his mom that we wanted to take a bath together, she looked at me then at John then she nodded. John grabbed my hand and pulled me to his bedroom.
    John stripped to his yellowed underwear and told me to get my clothes off, unless I wanted to take a bath with them on. I was so excited that I was dizzy, I was going to get a long look at another naked boy and I was going to get to sit in the bathtub with him and we would both be naked. I was not disappointed, he was beautiful naked and he looked at me as long as I looked at him. I didn't know about erections or any of that stuff, I was so innocent and na´ve that I just stared.
    John peeked out of the bathroom door then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward his bedroom, both of us naked as jay birds. He shut and locked his door and told me that he liked to sleep naked. That really had me happy.
    Once in bed with the lights out John put his arms around me and pulled me close. He was crying as he told me how much I meant to him and how I was his best friend and that he would love me forever. I was eleven, I didn't know from love.
    John held me close and we kissed each other for most of the night. We talked and told each other all about our lives. I learned that his father was in prison for killing his mother's boyfriend. I learned that John's mother liked men and that John liked to watch them have sex in her room. We had heard the door bell earlier and then a man's voice so when all was quiet John led me to his closet and showed me his favorite spot.
    He made me be very quiet as he carefully pulled an old piece of wallpaper away to show me a hole in the wall. I don't know what was on the other side of the wall but I could see his mother's bed and I watched as this guy fucked the living shit out of her. I had only learned the word fuck the year before when I saw it written on the sidewalk in large chalk letters as I walked home from school. One of my friend's older sisters told us what it meant and told us that if she ever heard us use the word that she would tell God and we would go to hell, right then without waiting to die first. I was never going to use that word.
    John and I went back to bed and held each other for awhile then we kissed each other again. John stuck his tongue in my mouth and I kind of liked that then he took hold of my cock and jacked me off. That was the most intense thing that I had ever felt as I just lay there and let him do me over and over. I know that I finally had to tell him to stop because I was hurting and the next morning I was all red and raw down there.
    I was na´ve so I told my dad that I was sore. He looked at me and smiled and put some cream on my cock and told me to use the cream two or three times a day and that I would be better in a day or two. Looking back at it I know that dad knew why I was raw but he never said anything and I didn't know that I should have kept quiet. The outcome of that was that I never spent the night with John, or anyone else again until I was in high school.

    School started and John wanted to be friends, I wanted to be friends also but our lifestyle didn't allow much time together. For the first time in my life I was aware that there was more than one classroom for the same grade, John and I had no classes together, we didn't even share the same lunch period. I was heavy into Boy Scouts and had something going there several days a week and on the other days I had something going at our new church. John and I rode our bicycles together as often as we could but we just never had much time to do things.
    During the Christmas break our new house was completely remodeled and we moved from the house we were in, that was the first time that I learned that we were renting a house. That was about the most enlightening thing I ever learned in my sixth year of school. I struggled along on my own as I made my way through the next two and a half years as the new kid in a strange school. With no one like John to field for me I found it hard and slow to make friends; I learned that I really missed John and I missed what we had done together. That night became a focal point in my life as I discovered my developing body and the pleasure that I could garner by stroking myself in the same manner that John had done on his birthday.

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com

Many often mistake me for one who takes criticism well.
Actually I know the little person that offered the criticism is
dead wrong and not worth the breath to correct him.