Date: Fri, 03 Feb 2023 17:05:16 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Karl in Moonlight A pubescent orphan finds peace in the arms of a younger boy. If you like this work of utter fiction, or any story on Nifty, please consider contributing to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html = = = = = The late night sky sparkling through my window, silhouetting a pale adolescent's slender frame - that's the first thing I remember. Slight shadows fell below a nipple, and each of his ribs. In retrospect, Karl was a skinny 13-year-old. But at the time, spying on him through barely peeled, nine-year-old eyes, I was in awe of the older boy, while he silently stripped off his clothes. Like most boys in their teens, he slept in his underwear. I did, as well, but I wore a pyjama top in the cold months. Karl had arrived after my bedtime, and most of his things wouldn't arrive for a few days. Although he'd tiptoed in, even leaving his travel bag in the hall, I'd been so excited about him moving in with Mama and me that the slightest noise roused me. At the same time, I was very groggy, and it took little effort to feign sleep. Karl's snug, pale blue underpants practically glowed with reflected moonlight, and his long brunette hair whipped like storm clouds around his sharp, handsome face. But even in the dim light, I could see the goth boy was missing his customary black eyeliner, and the silly dog collar he'd affected for most of the year. Ever so delicately, he climbed into my double bed, very cautious not to awaken me. A few moments after the mattress rolled with his weight, I fell back into darkness. Stifled, anguished sobbing. That's my next recollection of his first night. It was almost as bad as the keening Mama made when she heard the news of Karl's mother's death. The two single women had become very close friends through a support group, and over the past two years, Mama and I had spent a lot of time with Thea and Karl. The older boy was kind, protective of me, and ready to indulge my childish games and fantasies. I remember thinking at the time that he was practically an adult. But when I look at shots from that year, the 13-year-old was significantly on the younger side of adolescence, with very pretty, androgynous features. We boys had never before spent a night together alone. When we hiked with our mothers on overnights in the mountains, we slept in dormitory refuges, with several other families. I'd been thrilled to have Karl curled around me, in our separate sleeping bags. Although I'd wished we could sleep like this every night, it wasn't until Thea's accident that it happened. Tragedy squashed Karl into my small room for a year, while my mother had to search for a larger flat in the suburbs. So, I woke again to the bed shaking from Karl's wracked mewling. The walls echoed with the small sounds of a boy desperately adrift in the world. In a flash, I curled around his warm, naked back. He stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed, hugging my arm to his chest, while letting it all out. Eventually, his sobbing withered away. No words passed between us, while he blew his nose in a tissue, and I curled around his vulnerable, cocooned shape. His skin was so warm. Later, Karl would tell me he'd felt my tiny steel piercing between his buns through two sets of underwear. I only remember brushing his smooth, slender tummy. Unintentionally, my hand travelled further south, crossing the waistband of his soft, skimpy undies. His groin was warm, humid, and semisoft, then grew firm, while I caressed its cotton basket. Rich hardness flourished in my hand, throbbing enticingly. It was magnificently large (at least by comparison with what I'd found when my friends and I grabbed a feel after football practice, cackling at the tickling naughtiness). I didn't really know what I was doing, but I squeezed it, and Karl shivered and sighed, until I relaxed my grip. So I compressed it again, making him quietly moan, then relaxed my grip. My rhythm grew steady, working him like a musical instrument, mashing a symphony of bliss with his blood-engorged bone. I probably giggled, but was totally enchanted. "Stef, you should stop," the young teen whispered, without much conviction. But I was delirious with wonder, swept up in the obvious joy I brought to my friend, and continued my cadenced compression. Soon, his hips started to move. Back and forth, Karl pumped his undie-wrapped pike through my fist. My hand grew tired, and I relaxed my hold, no longer juicing him, but letting him rub my adoring hand. Previously, on a couple of occasions in bed, while waiting for sleep to take me, I'd grown hard. Some instinct had lead me to rub it against the mattress, so Karl's motion wasn't unfamiliar. However, I'd only humped my mattress for a few moments, falling quickly asleep. I'd never rubbed it with my hand, nor kept going with Karl's determination. What would happen next? Karl's pumping friction seemed to burn away all traces of his earlier despair. It was powerful. It was magical. And I was enthralled, worshiping his warm, thrusting amulet, proud to take part in something bewitchingly intimate with my big hero. "That feels so good, Stefan!" He moved faster, and started making strange, strangled sounds. I asked him if I was hurting him, and he shook his head. "Nooo! Soooo goooood!" He cinched my hand around his thrusting pubescence in his tight fist. And then he was ramming uncontrollably, like an animal. Karl's cotton-clad tube slid back and forth so fast it's a wonder I didn't get a rope burn on my palm. And then his whole body shuddered. Rocking left to right, while still thrusting forward and back, Karl convulsed. An explorer in strange territory, I was awestruck at what was happening to my older friend. He shuddered with joy, in titanic waves. At the same time, the bucking boy was transforming us both. They say that smell is the most persistent memory sense, and maybe that's right, since every lover's ejaculate always brings me back to the fragrance blooming in my bedding that night. But really, it's the touch memory in my hand that still resonates. I can still feel the pulsations in my fingers, from Karl's cock lurching in time with his stifled grunts. His clothbound hardness grew moister with each labored pump, and he reached behind me, squeezing my rump in a way I'll never forget. Karl's thrusts slowed like the choppy waves of a dying monsoon. At last, he collapsed, and his hand left mine. But I didn't release his wilting arousal. I was mesmerized by the dampness seeping through his sheer underpants. "Did you wet yourself?" Still catching his breath, Karl chuckled. "No, Stefy." Rolling onto his side to face me, Karl hugged me, and kissed my cheek. Pulling away, he smiled, gazing into my innocent eyes. Semen, he explained. Of course, I knew about man milk from sex ed, but it had been as abstract a concept as getting a woman pregnant. It suddenly dawned on me that there might be more to sex than simple procreation. Pulling my hand away from Karl's slowly softening loins, I inhaled the delightful aroma, intoxicated by something so primal. "Can I see it?" Karl grinned, and threw down the bedcovers. While staring into my eyes, he slowly pulled his waistband past his genitals, and hooked it under his nuts. We'd showered together at the pool a couple of times, and I'd seen his still hairless cock and balls before. But his flaccid penis had been maybe two inches the last time I saw it, cradled into a pool-shrunken lump with his smooth, round scrotum. I'd thought it all just biological gear, and didn't yet know why I'd found his genitals - like all boys' equipment - so interesting. But that first night, staring at the steamy, wet snake, I got my first clue. Karl's smooth and milky groin was no more pallid than his willowy, ivory torso. The moonlight cascading through the window shimmered across loins wet with opalescence. I dragged a finger from his pubic mound to his root, and then up the quivering, vanilla vine. He shivered, and while I brought my glistening finger to my face. My fingertip was coated with a clear, watery viscousness that smelled like warm bread. Maybe that's why I tasted it. If his manna tasted like anything, it was vaguely like carrots. And I was hooked, smacking my lips, while Karl laughed with surprise. "Most boys don't..." It took me a couple of days to wonder how he knew most boys wouldn't eat a load. But by then, I didn't really care. Karl rubbed my tummy through my soft, thick pyjama top, gently pushing me onto my back. "You made me feel so good, Stef. I'm going to make you feel good, too." Karl pulled the hem of my striped top up above my groin, then exposed my navel to the chilly night. He fanned his fingertips from my tummy, to the bottom of my briefs and back. Soft and gentle, like a summer's kiss, his brushing touch felt glorious. "You're so hard, Stef." Delicately tracing an index finger along my rigid little erection, through my snugly stretchy underwear, Karl looped down around my tiny scrotum and back. He was so patient, rubbing every contour of my aching hardness, leaving me trembling. He palmed all of me, rubbing it with his big, warm hand, and I started pushing up, instinctively. The itchy tickling was driving me crazy. I needed more of it and I didn't know why. Karl's hand slipped into my undies, and he gently rubbed my length with his index finger for a couple of moments. I must have been loud, because he quietly shushed me, then kissed me on the lips. It felt so natural, I kissed him back, then hugged him tightly. He hugged me back, then lightly pushed me back down. Karl's fingers slipped back out of my undies, teasing me through the cotton once more, then caressing my soft, bare thighs. I whimpered with disappointment. "Can you touch it again?" Karl chuckled. Though barely in his teens, the 13-year-old seducer demonstrated a sophistication gleaned more experience than his age belied. His index finger curled under a leg elastic tracing back and forth, for a moment, making contact with my little scrotum a couple of times. At the same time, he nuzzled and kissed my naked navel, making me shiver. His fingers dover under my waistband again, rubbing my throbbing length a few times, then he was back outside again, tickling my nuts through their cotton prison. I was gasping, bewildered, while my tiny prong pounded. I told Karl it was so hard it hurt. It demanded something, but it was a mystery to me. "You need to cum, little guy." I didn't know what that meant, and Karl explained that it had to be experienced. His hand snaked back under my waistband, and gripped my rigid, 5cm / 2-or-so-inch shaft with a thumb and two fingers. He slowly pulled back and forth, from where the base was sealed against my little half-dome scrotum, to my helmet, and back. My foreskin surged across my glans like fleshy waves in a hot, meaty sea. It tickled in a way that begged for more tickling. Instinctively, my hips started to rise and fall, again. For a second time, Karl had to shush me, while I was submerged in ecstasy. What was this wonderful thing he was now doing to me? "I'm jacking you off!" Karl whispered. "Do it some more. Please!" Karl's grip tightened, and he stroked me faster. Oh it was so good. But then, something started to feel alarmingly familiar. I warned Karl I was going to pee. "You won't, Stefy. Just let it happen." But I didn't want it to happen. I was sure I was going to wet the bed, something that hadn't happened in a couple of years. So I fought it, almost doing a pee-pee dance in the bed. At the same time the struggle felt wonderful, and of course, I didn't wet the bed with my first orgasm. Writhing and bouncing, I was overwhelmed by the spastic contractions in little tool, and the way it pulled on my balls. Sparkly tingles seemed to shoot down to my curling toes. At last, my cock's convulsions died, and with them, so did my body's tectonic heaving. "Did you like that, Stef?" Karl's tone was facetious; the question rhetorical. My first dry explosion had blown my mind. Of course, I had many questions, and Karl patiently answered each, while my erection puddled in his gentle hand. "When you shoot sperm, it's 1000 times better," he answered, telling me it would be a couple of years before I could. I couldn't wait, and told him so, while reaching down to hold his explore his smooth ball bag, and then his re-engorged cock. His thin ejaculate had dried, leaving his skin sticky. I loved holding his cock, pulsating with need. At 11CM / 4-or-so inches, his slender stalk seemed enormous at the time, and I wished we could trade bodies. He replied he wished that fantasy could come true. Yet it wasn't just to let me experience something that would inevitably happen anyway, in the future. He longed for the past, when he was a little boy once more, and his mother kept him safe and secure. Karl changed the subject, telling me that he'd long wanted to play with me, but that he felt our age difference made it wrong. I didn't see how anything that felt so right could be bad. At the same time, I promised to keep our erotic rituals a secret; rites to be practiced discretely. By then, I was gently pulling on his prong, with an upside down fist, and he was rubbing my diamond-hard tumescence with the flat of his hand through my stretchy white underpants. Karl's face drew close, and his lips alighted on mine. I wasn't alarmed. Relatives and close friends kissed, but usually on the cheek. Yet on the lips seemed all the more exciting, and I puckered up, kissing him back. Karl combed both hands through my hair, while his lips lingered. I felt his tongue trying to pry open the gates, then he pecked his way to my ear, to whisper. "Open your mouth a little, Stef." I did, and his tongue washed across my lips, sponging them moistly. I followed his lead, licking his lips, and then our tongues met in my mouth, dancing gently. Of course, I'd seen couples make out in movies, so the concept of open mouth kissing wasn't unfamiliar. What was a surprise was how good it felt. I'd never understood why grownups wanted to swap spit, anymore than I'd ever understood that sex was meant to feel good. Like really good. And his kisses were electric. God, I was so hard again, and now I knew what I needed. I pulled my lips from Karl's, and begged him to jack me off again. Perhaps as impatient as I, Karl disregarded any notions of teasing, and snaked his fingers into my briefs. With a firm grip on my lilliputian love baton, he stroked me steadily, while staring into my eyes, and smiling encouragingly. I stroked his adolescence with my upside down fist, in time with Karl's cadenced pleasuring. I peered at his groin, delighted to see his cherry-shaped head peak in and out its hood, just beyond my curled pinky. He was so very hard and warm. It felt like hot steel encased in soft rubber. Soon enough, we were lost in need, rubbing each other in a fury. "Faster Stef. Please do it faster." I would have, if a sparkling explosion wasn't erupting in my guts. This time, I didn't fight it. I couldn't. Knowing what came next, I dove into the pulsations throttling my body, giving way to my hard penis retching in Karl's agitating fingers. When the dry detonations finally died away, I was still shaking, and Karl was still stroking me, but much more slowly. At last, he simply held it gently, almost reverentially, studying me with a grin. "I'm going to love being your big brother," he quietly sighed. The feeling was more than mutual. Biting my smiling lower lip, I resumed my stroking, this time, pulling and pushing him faster. Karl found my other hand, and steered it to his balls. At his coaxing, I gently squeezed his smooth scrotum, and delicately tickled and pulled on each testicle. Though no bigger than grapes, they seemed so much bigger than mine. Karl's breathing grew ragged, and he pumped his hips to grind into my pounding grip. His cock seemed to grow a little, while his bag tightened. With a sudden gasp, and a stifled groan, Karl punched his pelvis violently, and I felt a volcanic palpitation. His body spasmed like a rag doll in a tornado, while his cock screamed silently, again, and again, and again. I milked him hard and fast, finally feeling wetness drooling onto the bottom of my fist. Eventually, his pounding ecstasy faded, and his body stopped shaking. I held his softening flesh with the same tenderness with which he held mine. "Did I make you feel good?" "You have no idea." Karl's second climax yielded far less seed, and most of it was on my hand. Still, Karl insisted on getting a wet washcloth from the bathroom, and cleaning up the drops that had oozed onto my sheet. While he was gone, I licked my hand clean, now certain I loved the flavor. After he changed into fresh underwear, we cuddled under the warm covers. Karl was curled around me, with his hand snaked under my pygama top, and buried in my underpants. Though it would be a while before Karl's grief loosened its grip on him, he'd find safety and love in our family, and he'd always find passionate warmth in my bed. Though we were very discrete in our nightly play over the years, Mama eventually discovered the depth of our bonds. But by then, the gap in our years didn't seem so wide, and Karl had become her second son. Even after we found lovers, boyfriends, and eventually life partners, Karl and I still share the secret love that only brothers can know.