From: mwaggen@sirius.com
Subject: Mark's Dilemma (b/b)
Date: Tue, 30 Apr 1996 00:14:00 GMT
Organization: Sirius Connections

The following story is a fictional account of a young boy's
sexual experiences.  It depicts sexual encounters with other boys.  
IF you do not enjoy reading this type of material, TAKE A HIKE...
DELETE THIS FILE NOW!

IF by some chance you are under the age of consent, (whatever
that may be  in whatever part of this God's green earth you
may calling from) then you should go to alt.barney.insults,
and play there.

For those of you ABOVE the age of consent, Ihope you enjoy the
story.  Feedback is always appreciated.

Last chance to quit...  OKAY, let's get on with the story.  The
writer takes no responsibility for accidents that may occur
(such as cum on your monitor, blisters on your dick, etc.) for
reading this work.


MARK'S DILEMMA            Chapter One:  First Steps

     Middle  school is the hell hole of the human  spirit.  There can 
be  more pain and suffering in one day for a kid  in  middle school 
than he felt his entire life in school before that  time. Mark  Nelson
certainly felt that way, sitting at his desk in  his seventh grade
social studies class.

     He  knew that it wasn't the school that was the problem.  It was 
the age. His age. Twelve years old, almost thirteen, was  an age  of 
betrayal.  Adults betrayed you.  Friends  betrayed  you. Teachers  and
parents betrayed you. There had been one  thing  in Mark's  life  that 
had  always  been  substantial,   unchanging, dependable,  even 
during  the hard times and the  anger  of  the divorce.  And now at
this age that one sanctuary of selfhood  was betraying him the worst.
His body.

     He knew all of the scientific crap about puberty, or most of it 
anyway. He understood it when they got it in the family  life section 
of  his biology class. He understood the words  and  the diagrams 
(those diagrams which caused his body to betray  itself with
unexpected frequency and enjoyment) but he didn't understand the 
important parts that were not discussed. The parts  he  felt inside 
of himself. Why, when the word that most quickly  escaped his  lips
when he was putting down one of his classmates was  the pejorative
"fag," did he feel such an irresistible need to  stare at  little
Tommy Butler?  Why did that tall, lanky  geekoid  Matt Carrington 
fascinate him so when he realized that nobody at  the school liked him
and that Matt was the butt of every kid's abuse?

     Betrayal. The body's betrayal. Mark felt that betrayal  most
keenly as he sat in his class. For as long as he could  remember,
Mark's parents had nagged him about touching himself down  there.
"Don't  play with yourself." "Stop touching yourself." "I'm  sure it 
hasn't  fallen off. You don't have to keep looking  for  it." Nag. 
Nag.  Nag.  He couldn't help it. When he  was  younger,  it didn't 
seem so bad. A lot of the boys did it. But now it  was  a problem.  He
hated to admit that his parents were right.  He  had started  wearing 
long, baggy T-shirts which he could  pull  down over the smudge marks
on the crotch of his sweat pants which were left from his unconscious
touching and pinching down there.

     Now  he had finally done it. When he was a little  kid,  the
touching and pinching had been what felt good. As his body  began to 
shift and change, though, the touching led to  more  exciting feelings 
and  finally,  not  long  ago,  to  the  wetness   that accompanied 
the  shivers and tingling. He  had  discovered  "The Feeling"  one
night in bed a couple of months after  his  twelfth birthday  as  he
engaged in his solitary  play  deliberately  and consciously.  Each
time he had pinched the area under the tip  of his peter, he got the
warm, good feeling that always  accompanied the squeezing. That night,
though, he kept on squeezing with  his thumb  on one side of the hard,
little shaft and two  fingers  on the sensitive part underneath. The
warmth intensified as he  kept squeezing. The hardness of his little
tool increased as well.  He pulled his jockey shorts off and the
covers of his bed back so he could watch in the glow of his night
light.

     For  the first time in his life, Mark really looked  at  his
penis as he clasped it in his fingers. Was it his imagination  or was 
it larger now? It used to be the size of his  little  finger when  it 
was  stiff. Now it was as longer than  his  thumb.  And thicker   than 
before,  too.  The  penis  glowed  pink  in   the illumination  of the
night light. The tip was taut and purple  in the  light. A ruby drop
of sticky goo glistened at the end.  When had all of this happened?
When had his pickle changed?

     It  used to be that when his penis has hard, it would  stand up 
from his belly like a birthday candle on a pale pink cake  or wave  in 
front  of him if he was upright.  This  evening  it  so stretched  its
enwrapping skin, though, that it lay hard  against his  belly, and
when Mark sat up to look at it from  a  different angle, it didn't
flop down in front of him but continued to point upward. When he
pushed it down, it flicked back up to its  place, hugging the slight
bulge of the boy's hairless pubis.

     Mark  lay back down, continued his compressing of the  stiff
penile shaft and lost himself in a reverie that got lost as  soon as
it streamed through his mind. His pipi was no longer warm when he
clutched at it. The pleasure of the pressure had shifted to  a
discomfort and an urgency. He picked up the pace of his  pinching
until  he was pressing at the underside of his little cock  three or
four times per second. Then, suddenly, unbidden and  unwarned, one 
pinch coincided with a tremendous shiver wracking his  lower body. 
The penis in his fingers jerked and danced on its own  and the  shiver
travelled out from its origin in waves of  excitement Mark had never
know were possible.

     When  Mark's first orgasm had finally passed, he lay on  his bed 
breathless.  He stopped dead still and held his  breath.  He could
hear the regular exhalations of his ten year old brother in the bed
across the room. Eliot was still asleep. He hadn't heard. He  wondered 
if he had made any noise, if the  two  sisters  who still lived with
him and his dad, or his dad and step-mother  had heard  him or worse
yet, had felt the power of the experience  he had just had. Mark was
naive in such matters and the intensity of his  experience frightened
him. He vowed never to  touch  himself down  there again. At least not
so much as to get "The  Feeling." The pledge of abstinence lasted one
day. The next night and every night after that one, Mark would pinch
himself to a dry,  intense orgasm.  He discovered that if he kept up
his squeezing while  he was  getting "The Feeling" he could get
another and then  another almost immediately afterward. "Piling on,"
as he called this, was saved for special times.

     The boy's discovery of the pleasures of serious masturbation led 
him  to  pay  more attention to his  body.  Although  it  is difficult 
to get a lot of privacy in a family of six, he  sought as  many 
opportunities as he could for exploring other  ways  of getting  "The 
Feeling." If he lay on his belly in  the  tub  and wriggled around, he
could climax as well, although he usually had to  mop  up the flood of
water on the floor of the  bathroom  and would have to explain the wet
towels to his step-mother. He tried different  ways  of getting hard
and bringing  himself  over  the edge.  He  learned  names for what
was happening to  him  in  his family  life  class and from some of
the other  guys  in  school. Orgasm,  cumming,  climax, sperming, jiz.
Mystical  words.  Fuck, piss, shit, boner, hard-on. Words that could
stimulate as well as describe.  Jack-off,  beat-off, rub-off, beat 
your  meat,  frig.  Mark  taught himself different techniques as he
lay in bed or  in the  bathtub or stood alone in front of the mirror
which hung  on his closet door.  His body was changing. He watched
more closely. His prick (he loved that name for what he used to call
his pickle or his pipi. He also loved calling it a dick or cock. Those
words hung  heavy and pendulous on his tongue like he wanted his 
penis and testicles to hang on his body.) was getting bigger. He knew.

     The closet mirror was one of the sources of betrayal in  the
boy's life. While he loved to watch his hand pulling  frantically at 
his stubby nub of a penis, Mark hated the rest of  the  naked boy's 
image  which looked back at him from the  silvered  glass. That  boy 
was chubby with what his father called baby  fat.  The slight 
rounding  of  his belly is one reason  Mark  had  started wearing 
extra long, baggy T-shirts. (His habit of  unconsciously pulling  and 
pinching  at his dick, a habit  which  smudged  his customary sweat
pants was the other reason.) The legs seemed  fat to him as well, but
in fact, they were storing tissue in order to stretch in a spurt of
adolescent growth which would come to  Mark shortly  after his
thirteenth birthday and would leave  him  with long, graceful, slender
legs. To his eye, he had a fat, ugly ass. Another  person looking at
the boy nude, a person attuned to  the differences of boy flesh, might
appreciate the round, firm  white globes  which  were  his cheeks. And
his hair, he  had  given  up trying  to control that horrible part of
his life. His  hair  had been a light red as a small child. It
lightened as he grew  older then  started  to darken recently. (Maybe
all the times  he  gave himself "The Feeling" was the reason it was
darkening. Maybe  the sin involved with "The Feeling" was somehow
stored in his hair so that his darkening soul was reflected in his
darkening hair.) But it  couldn't even darken nicely. It was streaked
with  echoes  of his earlier red hair so that the overall impression
that the wild bush  on  top  of his head gave was of bronze and 
copper.  As  a little  boy Mark's nipples were little brown bumps on
his  chest, bumps  he  never noticed. Now, though, they had  turned 
red  and bulged  out from soft, little mounds. He was getting  tits, 
just like  a girl, he would think as he gazed at the boy  masturbating
in the mirror.

     
The  only part of the reflection that Mark  enjoyed  looking at, 
whether he was playing with himself or not, was  his  prick. His 
penis was getting decidedly bigger. When he first began  his
deliberate  explorations of his body after getting "The  Feeling" the 
first  time a couple of months after he turned  twelve,  his little 
pecker  was  only two and a half  inches  when  it  stood straight 
out from his belly. It shrivelled down to an inch  when it  was soft,
though it was hard to measure it soft because  when he  tried  to do
so, it would begin to grow  almost  immediately. Over  the  next nine
months, the organ had grown enough  so  that when  it was hard, Mark
could push the  circumcised,  purple-blue tip  down against the four
inch mark of the ruler. It  no  longer stuck  out  in front of him
when he was really  hard  and  horny, instead it pulled upward in a
tight arc, the head pointing toward the  heavens, the single, moist
eye looking back at the  boy  who was  fascinated with the alien
texture of the penile glans.  When it  was as tight and as hot and as
hard as it could be,  the  tip actually touched the soft, round white
lower belly of the boy. He could  push it down with one finger when it
was like this and  it would snap back against his pubis with an
audible "splap." He had begun  to  grow hair down there, too, not
dark, curly  hair  like most  of  the older eighth grade boys he saw
at  gym,  but  long, straight blond hairs, eight of them at last
count.

     Mark  felt small and inadequate when he had to take  showers
after gym class. At night, though, in bed his imagination swelled his 
organ to massive proportions. His technique had  changed  as his penis
had grown. Although he still used the two  finger-thumb squeeze 
technique, he also learned to stroke the length  of  his rod  with the
grip and to slick his prick with spit  to  increase the  pleasure of
"The Feeling." One night, thinking of  the  big, hairy  cocks  that
swung loose and free on the older  boys,  Mark began  the  spit 
slicked stroking of his soft  penis.  His  eyes closed,  the images of
the cocks were not associated with any  of the  boys who owned them.
They were just pictures in  the  twelve year  old's  mind of pricks.
The image shifted to  a  picture  of Mark's best friend, Tommy.

     Ah, Tommy. Tommy with the lavender eyes and red-blond  hair.
Though  a month older than Mark, Tommy was much smaller than  the
younger  boy,  only  an inch above four feet.  He  was  delicate,
fragile looking. His movements were graceful, effeminate. Most of the 
seventh  grade  boys had dubbed him as being  the  kid  most likely 
to  win  the Miss America Pageant.He  had  many  friends, though. All
of them, except for Mark, were girls.

     Mark  tried to bring his fantasy back to the large  penises,
tried  to harden them in his dreaming as he tried  unsuccessfully to 
harden  his  own.  His thoughts  kept  returning  to  Tommy's freckled 
face.  Mark's  penis hardened with  the  appearance  of Tommy's
girlish smile and gracile movements in his fantasy.  Mark tried  to
push the image out, but it persisted and  slipped  down the  little
boy's body. Mark had seen Tommy naked many  times  in the  locker
room. He thought he hadn't really paid  attention  to the  boy,  but
the picture that persisted while  he  stroked  and pulled  on his own
penis was photographic in its accuracy.  Tommy had  a tiny "wiener" as
he called it, probably not more  than  an inch  and a half when hard
as it was now in Mark's fantasy.  When had he seen it hard? Mark knew
that he had but couldn't  remember when.  Tommy  continued  to  smile 
and  wiggled  his  thin  hips seductively  while Mark continued his
stroking, faster  and  with more  intent. Mark imagined touching the
older boy,  rubbing  his hands  on his little friend's skin and
touching the  hard  little cocklet, rubbing it as he was rubbing his
own. Mark squeezed  his eyes  shut and pulled frantically as he
thought the  unthinkable, thought about kissing his friend and then
kissing the teeny boner and  then taking it into his lips. As the
fantasy  penis  slipped into Mark's mouth, he slipped his thumb into
his mouth and sucked as  hard  as  he  could, rubbed as hard as  he 
could.  His  cock exploded  into its anticipated orgasm but there was 
a  different quality to the explosion. It burned and scalded as it
tore up the length  of  the boy's hardness. It spattered and splashed 
as  it erupted from the skin stretched, blue tipped cockhead.

     Mark's belly was moist. He let his right hand travel to  the
dampness  on  his  hairless belly. It was  wet.  And  sticky.  He
brought  his damp finger to his mouth and slipped it  beside  the
thumb  that had remained unconsciously in place.  The  stickiness was
bitter.

     He  had  cum,  really and truly cum.  The  orgasm  had  been
unbelievably intense, "The Feeling" better than it had ever felt. Mark 
grasped  his soft prick and squeezed it again  so  that  he could 
pile on like he enjoyed doing. He would have  shrieked  in pain had
his thumb not still been in place in his mouth. His pipi was too
sensitive to touch. He tried thinking of naked girls  and hairy  hard 
cocks but nothing would return him to  the  hardness that  he  usually
could bring back after getting his  orgasm.  He fell asleep with his
hand lying lightly on his limp, tender penis and  his thumb still in
his mouth. He fell asleep to a  dream  of Tommy.

     The next day Mark jacked off in front of the mirror in order to
watch the cream come out. He brought himself "The Feeling" but no
semen. It was then that he noticed the funny curve in his dick when it
was hard. It had developed a decided curve to the  right. Mark  was
sure that this anomaly had developed because he  jacked off  with his
right hand. he was sure he was damaging  the  organ and after noticing
the curve, he stopped his penile play for four days.  The curve didn't
go away nor did his  incessant  horniness although  he  did have an
interesting dream the  last  night  and stiff PJ's upon awakening. He
began masturbating again after  the night of the dream, using his left
hand for a week to see if that would remedy the problem of the curve.
It didn't, of course,  but Mark  discovered  that he could get
different qualities  of  "The Feeling" by using different hands.

     That was three weeks ago. Now Mark had really done it.  Mark had 
tried  hard  not to play with himself in school  or  out  in public. 
He really did. But his right hand seemed to have a  mind of  its own,
and the boy would awaken from a daydream  or  become alert  from a
conversation to realize that he had  been  pinching himself down there
and, most likely, had given himself a hard-on.

     This  day  in social studies he had been  listening  to  the
teacher  drone on about some stupid something when Mark began  to
watch  the  back of his friend Tommy's head.  To  Mark's  dismay,
Tommy had been the focus of almost all of his jack-off fantasies. Mark
hated fags, thought they were disgusting. But he argued that his 
thinking  of Tommy when he pulled his meat was  somehow  not faggy. In
his heart he knew he was lying to himself but he  would jack-off  to 
the other boy's image, have his  orgasm,  and  then banish remembrance
to the far reaches of his consciousness.

     Tommy was a month older than Mark, but he was really  small. He
had rosy, red blond hair and an effeminate way about him  that
bothered  Mark.  The  older,  smaller boy  was  miles  away  from
entering  puberty; his body was still the body of a  little  boy. Mark 
had caught glimpses of his nakedness in the locker room  or in  the 
showers,  though Tommy self  consciously  kept  it  from general 
exposure. His pipi was never shrivelled when  soft  like Mark's  was
when in that state. It hung down in front of  a  tiny ball sack, a
thin inch and three-quarters. The tip was almost the same color as the
shaft. Although no one could know it, the  head would not darken for
another three years when the red head  would finally enter puberty.
Once Mark had seen the penis hard, but  he could not remember when. It
had been recently, and he thought  he remembered Tommy showing the
boner to him deliberately, but  Mark had blotted the details of the
incident out of his mind.

     He hadn't realized he was touching himself during class.  He
wasn't really aware of the hard-on he had given himself (or maybe just 
looking at Tommy had given it to him.) He wasn't  aware  of what  he
had been doing but now he sat in the back of the  class, the  bell 
about  to ring and the bitter  chlorine  bleach  smell drifting  up to
his nose. A small, damp spot darkened  the  gray, smudged cloth of his
sweat pants.

     The  bell  rang and Mark was faced with a  problem  as  kids
started pouring out of the class. He had to go to his next class, but
he was sure that he smelled of the spunk that had spotted his pants 
and  that lay sticky against his abdomen. He  knew  others would  see
the spot if he stood up. Tommy was standing by  Mark's desk,  waiting 
for  him  so they could  go  to  the  next  class together.

     
"Hey,  Tommy," he said, "I gotta take a piss. Why don't  you go on to
class without me."

     Tommy smiled that thin, tight lipped smile of his. God,  how Mark 
hated that smile because he loved it so much. It  made  his prick 
stir in the stickiness in his pants and start to get  firm again.
     "I gotta go, too," Tommy replied. Mark stood up and  quickly
swung  his books into place over the splotch on his sweats.  When he 
got  to the bathroom, he took the urinal in  the  corner.  He figured 
he'd have some privacy there. Tommy slid in beside  him. There  was no
hope. He pulled his sweats and underpants down  far enough to pull his
semi-firm penis out, splattered a few splashes of  urine  against the
porcelain back of the  urinal  and  pulled himself  together  in order
to leave the boy's  room.  Tommy  had pulled  his little pecker out
and begun to piss. He stepped  back from  the  urinal so that his
stream was  clearly  visible.  Mark couldn't  help but look at what
his friend was doing although  he tried to disguise his intent by
fiddling with the draw string  on the sweat pants.

     Tommy  stepped two more paces backward and arced his  stream so
that it hit midway up the back of the urinal.

     "You  sure  had  a weak leak," the little boy  said  to  his
friend. "I really had to go bad. Ah, shit, I pissed on my foot. I hate
it when I piss on myself." As Tommy had finished  urinating, rather 
than  moving  closer to the urinal, he  bowed  his  belly forward  to
try to get the last splashes into the urinal. He  did end up dribbling
the last of the pee on his white Nike Airs.

     "I'm  going to wipe it off on you," he squeaked at Mark  and
began  hopping  after the bigger boy, trying to wipe  the  yellow
drops off on his friend. Both boys scampered around the  restroom
giggling until the bell for class rang.

     "Oh fuck, Tommy, you made me late for math," Mark said as he
grabbed  his  books  and  started for  his  next  class.  He  had
forgotten  about  what had brought him to the boy's room  in  the
first place and walked out a pace ahead of his friend. The small, wet 
cum stain still spotted the front of his sweats but had  any one 
noticed it under the loose hanging T-shirt, they would  have assumed 
it  was a pee spot, a common occurrence in  boys  Mark's age.

     Tommy was the only person who had or would notice the  spot. He
had seen it when he stood beside his bud's desk in the  social studies 
classroom because he was pretty sure there would be  one and he looked
for it. Indeed, he had periodically glanced back at his  friend while
Mark was absent mindedly masturbating.  He  was the  only  one who
knew what had happened and  had  followed  his friend  into  the
restroom and hoping to see more of  Mark  while they were at the
urinal. Tommy had failed in his immediate  quest but had another plan
of action.

     As the boys slipped into the back of their math class, Tommy
whispered  to Mark, "You wanna stay over at my house tonight?  My
folks  aren't  home  and they said I could have  a  friend  over.
Tomorrow's  Saturday so we can stay up late and watch videos  and
stuff."

     Mark's heart jumped at the invitation. "Sure," he  whispered
back.  He would do anything to get out of his own  chaotic  house for
a night. It would be great not to have to deal with his three siblings 
and  greater  still to spend some time  with  his  best friend  alone.
Alone! The word made not only his heart jump,  but his dick jump as
well. As Mark settled into his desk in the  back of the class he
wondered if he was becoming one of THEM.


MARK'S DILEMMA            Chapter Two: Out of the Hell Hole

     When he got home that afternoon, Mark got his  step-mother's
ready approval of his plan to stay at his friend's house for  the
night. Mark had omitted the fact that the boys would be alone for the 
night; Mrs.Harton-Nelson would have allowed her step-son  to go
anyway. He was the most difficult of the four instant kids  in the
instant family she had acquired when marrying Matthew  Nelson and a
Friday night without him around promised to be an enjoyable evening.

     Mark  changed from his customary sweat pants and  grubby  T-
shirt  into a pair of blue jeans and a clean T-shirt. The  sweats went
into a gym bag, as did some comic books, a toothbrush  which hew knew
he wouldn't use and a clean pair of Jockeys. He was  out the  door of
his suburban home and on his bike pedalling over  to Tommy's before
his step-mother could change her mind.

     Tommy was anxious for his friend's arrival but waited for  a half
minute before answering the door when Mark rang the bell. He didn't
want to seem too excited.

     "We're gonna have a bitchin' time," Tommy squealed as he let Mark 
in the door. "Mom and Dad left me money so we  could  order pizza. 
And  follow me but take off your shoes  first.  My  folks don't want
their new carpeting fucked up."

     He  led  the way into the spacious kitchen  and  opened  the
refrigerator door. There was a six pack of beer on the top  shelf of
the refrigerator.

     "Dad said we could have one beer each," Tommy said, "but  we have
a shit load of beer in the garage so if we want more, I  can replace 
it  and  he'll never know. And I  got  these,  too."  He dangled a set
of keys in Mark's face.

     Mark asked, "What are those?"

     
"Keys  to  my folks' liquor cabinet and their  secret  video closet. 
The  videos are, well, you know. They're pretty  hot,  I think. We can
look at them later. Want a brew?"

     The  boys popped a beer each. They went to the  playroom  to play
with Tommy's model trains. Mark was not really fond of  beer but did
not want to seem too out of it so he drank the beer while he  played
with the trains in spite of himself. It  didn't  taste too bad. Both
of the kids got a light headed rush quickly.

     They  worked on Tommy's Marklin N gauge train set for  about an 
hour  when  they decided to call for the  pizza.  After  they called 
for it, they went to the rumpus room and  settled  beside each  other 
in  front  of the TV to watch  one  of  the  "Police Academy" videos
that Tommy had taped from HBO.

     Not  long  into the movie Mark announced, "I  gotta  take  a
leak." In fact, he had been feeling the need for a while and  had his
hand clamped fairly hard on his penis during much of the time he had
been watching.

     "Me,  too," responded Tommy. "But ya know what I like to  do when 
I  drink  beer? I like to see how long I can  go  before  I
absolutely, positive gotta go. Wanna try it?"

     Although  his bladder was pretty full, Mark was  willing  to try
what Tommy suggested. He sensed that this was something Tommy did  on 
his  own but that it was also a  game  that  the  older, smaller kid
was playing with him. He gave his dick a hard squeeze with two fingers
and shrugged his shoulders.

     "Sure.  I can hold my piss as long as you can, asshole,"  he
answered  with  a  smile. "Probably longer because  I'm  so  much
bigger than you." He meant the double entendre.

     "Bullshit, you can." Tommy returned the smile, broader  than
Mark's  and  gap toothed. He clutched his own little  basket  and
echoed  Mark's  squeeze with a full handed one of his  own.  This
squeeze  was the most overt sexual expression Tommy had  directed
toward  Mark. It made Mark a little uncomfortable, and he  pulled his
hand away from his dick in response to this discomfort.

     Tommy got up and left the room for the kitchen. While he was
gone, the doorbell rang.

     "That'll  be  the pizza, asshole," he called to  Mark.  "The
money  is on the fireplace." Mark paid for the pizza and  brought it 
back  in front of the TV. Tommy returned to the room  with  a tray  on
which were two more cans of beer and two  small  glasses with a small
amount of dark, amber liquid.

     Tommy  carefully put the tray beside his buddy.  "We'll  see who 
can hold it longer," he said. "I brought something  special. Some of
my dad's Scotch. We can't have too much because he'll get pissed. We
can have a little bit of each of what he's got in  the cabinet and get
away with it, though. Try it." He took the  glass and drained the less
than half ounce in one gulp.

     Mark picked his up, smelled it, squunched up his face,  took a 
sip  and  put  it down. "It's awful,"  he  said.  He  probably
wouldn't  have been so honest with other kids at school,  but  he was 
feeling  really  comfortable with Tommy. Mark  took  a  deep breath 
and  drained  his  half ounce.  He  shuddered  and  began coughing.
Tommy started slapping him on the back, laughing at his friend's 
discomfort while he did. Mark stopped hacking soon  and the boys
settled back to watching "Police Academy," eating  pizza and drinking
the beer. The beer didn't taste so bad to Mark  this time and he was
getting more than light headed.

     Soon  Mark's  bladder  began to feel like it  was  going  to
burst.  He felt a little urine leak from its tip. He grabbed  his dick
and pressed it to make the leaking stop and kept his hand in place,
not caring if Tommy saw.

     Tommy  did see. "I gotta piss bad, too," he said.  "Ya  know what
hate when I gotta piss bad?"

     "Uhn, uhn," Mark answered, shaking his head.

     Tommy  began  shifting his position next to Mark  and  spoke
slowly.                   "I-Hate-When-I-Got-To-Piss-And-Some-One
jumpsonmeandticklesme." The last of his statement was said really loud 
and  fast  and accompanied his jumping on  his  friend  and tickling
him. Mark always claimed he wasn't ticklish but was,  in fact, very
much so. He began squirming and laughing  hysterically which 
encouraged  Tommy even more. Mark wriggled around  on  the floor, 
squeezing  himself  shut as best he  could.  At  last  he couldn't 
hold it any more and let a substantial squirt of  urine go. Through
the tickle induced tears he could feel the wet warmth spread around
the front of his crotch.

     "You  fucking  asshole," he yelled and rolled Tommy  off  of
himself  and straddled the smaller boy's face. "You made me  piss
myself.  You lose, shit brains." He was only a little angry  with what 
had happened. Part of him enjoyed what was going  down.  He leaned 
closer so that the six inch diameter wet spot  was  right against 
Tommy's nose. "Smell it, fuck face!" He  began  tickling Tommy
violently.

     Tommy screamed, "Stop. I'm sorry. I'm doing it, too.  Stop." Mark 
rolled off the other boy and collapsed in  laughter  beside him. 
Tommy  had,  indeed,  begun  wetting  himself  in  his  own hysteria.
He was wearing light blue sweat pants and no underwear. The  urine 
soaked into the cloth of the sweats  immediately  and stained  them
into a darker blue spot, larger than  MArk's.  Both boys  lay for a
while on their back on the floor  catching  their breaths.  Mark had
the sensation that they were at a  crossroads. He  was  embarrassed
about what he had done to  himself  and  was nervous about what might
come next.

     Finally  Tommy spoke, "If I don't go to the  bathroom  right now,
I'm gonna piss myself for real." He stood up and started for the
bathroom, slowly, though, in order to see what Mark was going to do.

     "It looks like you already did a pretty good job of  wetting your 
pants," Mark said as he stood up wobbly and followed  Tommy out   of  
the   room.   "I'm   gotta   go   real   bad,    too."


     Tommy  got to the bathroom first and stood next to the  bath tub.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled his sweats down  to his
ankles. "I gotta piss so much, I'd flood the fuckin' toilet," he
announced. "Why don't you do it here with me?"

     Mark  stood at the door looking at his friend for a  moment.
Tommy  stood by the tub, a semi-stiff little penis  held  between his
fingers, his snow white ass cheeks bared for him to see. Mark liked 
what he saw. His dick stirred. He didn't care  about  what others 
might think at this point. The beer and the  Scotch  gave him the
courage which he had lacked without them. He didn't  feel too drunkand
in fact, he wasn't. He was just high enough where he had  gotten the
courage to enjoy the feelings which he had  tried to deny before.

     "Like  what you see," Tommy asked with a gap-toothed  smile,
still holding his dick but still not pissing.

     "I was just wondering," Mark answered, "how you could get so
fucking many freckles on your ass. I bet you even got 'em on your
asshole."  He stepped beside his friend and unbuckled  his  belt,
unbuttoned  the  fly on his 501's and pushed them  down  to  mid-
thigh.  His  own semi-hardon flopped up when  released  from  the
boy's wet Jockey shorts.

     Tommy  noticed  the tumescence of his  friend.  "Looks  like
you'd like to check and find out if I do have 'em on my  asshole. I 
got 'em on my dick." Then he squirted a small stream  of  piss into
the tub. Mark followed suit, placing his own splash right in the small
puddle Tommy had made.

     They  did this a couple of more times and then  Tommy  said,
"When  I've had some beer, I like to let out just enough piss  so that 
I don't gotta go real bad. That way I get to keep the  good feeling 
that goes with having to piss. Do you get that  feeling, too?"

     "Yeah. I like the way it feels. I'll try it but I gotta piss a
lot if I'm not gonna pee myself again. Hey, Tommy?"

     "Yeah, Mark?"

     "You won't tell nobody that I pee'd myself, will you?"

     "If  I did, then you could tell 'em I pissed my owon  pants. Our
secret's safe, buddy." Tommy seemed to place special emphasis on  the
word "our." He finished relieving enough of the  pressure on his
bladder and shook the last drops of urine from the end  of his  penis.
Tommy's semi-erection passed into the stage  of  full hard-on  as he
fiddled with himself while he watched  his  friend squirt out staccato
bursts of urine, effected by his pissing then squeezing the flow shut
with his fingers.

     Mark  was  concentrating on what he was doing  and  when  he
reached a stage of relative bladder comfort, he squeezed his dick one
last time and shook the dribbles from his piss slit. Once  he had 
finished, he looked at Tommy and noticed the  smaller  boy's hardness. 
He  didn't  say anything but his  own  penis  made  an involuntary 
jump.  He had a feeling, a premonition  that  things were about to
make an abrupt and not unwanted turn. He started to pull his pants
back up. The jockey shorts were cool and damp.

     "I guess I better change into my sweats," he said  hoarsely, his
voice barely audible and edged with embarassment.

     Tommy stepped out of his own sweat pants and nudged Mark  in the 
side with his elbow. He knew that Mark was  feeling  awkward about
wetting his pants and about the direction the afternoon was taking, 
but Tommy was not about to let it go at this  point.  He had planned
this evening for too long to let that happen.

     "You  don't have to do that," he said. "I'm gonna  take  the
clothes  down to the laudry and wash 'em. I plan on  going  bare-
ass. After all, we're both guys and we've seen each other in  the
locker room in the nude before."

     "That sounds like fun" Mark replied. "I don't get much of  a
chance to let my ass hang out at home with everybody around  over
there. I guess sometimes it's better being an only child." He had
cleared  the  rough edge from his voice and was trying  to  sound
adult and casual about what was going on. He felt like a  naughty
little  boy, however, as he stepped out of his wet  clothing.  He
carefully  avoided looking at either his own penis  which  jutted out
in front of his belly or Tommy's harder one which angled ever so
slightly upward.

     The two boys padded down to the laundry together. Tommy  put his 
own  clothing in the washing machine then stripped  off  his shirts
and added those. Mark was about to push his pants into the washing
machine but Tommy took the pile from him.

     "You gotta separate them, dickhead," he snarled at Mark.  He
pulled  the  jockey shorts off of the Levi's legs and  held  them over
the filling washer.

     "Not very clean, are we?" he kidded. The jockeys were soiled
slightly  with brown skid marks in the seat, nothing he  nor  any
other male hadn't had. He dropped them into the water and held up the 
Levis. He shook his head in mock consternation.  "Tsk,  tsk. Wetting 
your pants, too." Then he pushed those in as well.  Mark didn't mind
the teasing since he knew Tommy had been in a similar situation. 
"What  about your shirt? Are you gonna wear  that  or wash it?"

     There was no reason for Mark to surrender his shirt to Tommy
other than to provide a reason to be completely naked. He thought
about it for a moment, then pulled it off and pushed it into  the
soapy water.

     The  boys looked at each other. There they each stood,  nude
except for white socks, penises sticking out from their abdomens. Mark 
had  never realized that Tommy had so many  freckles.  They covered
his skinny, fragile looking body. Mark had never felt  so exposed. 
His erection intensified the feeling of  nakedness  for him.  He 
reached over to his friend and touched the  boy's  tiny ball  sack
with the tips of his fingers and let the touch  travel briefly  up
Tommy's two and a half inches of hardness. Tommy  had wanted 
something  like  this  to happen, but  now  that  it  had occurred, he
retreated a bit from his desire. Things were going a little too fast.

     "Let's go watch some more of the video," he suggested moving away 
from his friend's touch without actually pulling away  from it.  Mark
didn't feel rejected by the move. If anything, he  felt relieved to
have the pressure off of him for the moment.

     By  the time the boys had returned to the rumpus room,  each had 
lost the powerful edge to their erecions although both  were still
firm. They settled in front of the TV and watched the movie to  its
end, finishing off the pizza and almost a full two  liter bottle of
Coke. Mark preferred the soda to beer any day.  Neither of  the boys
mentioned the brief interlude of intimacy  that  had passed  between
them. When the movie ended, Tommy stood  up.  His little cock was
completely limp by now.

     "I'm going to go put the wash in the drier and then bring us
another  video," he said. "I think you're gonna like  this  movie even
more than 'Police Academy.'"

     
Mark rolled from his belly onto his back and gazed  intently at  the 
acoustic  ceiling tile while he waited  for  Tommy.  His bladder was
full again and the familiar tingling associated  with the fullness
returned. He twiddled with his penis  unconsciously, enjoying   the 
sensation  that  pinching  it  to  hardness   was producing.  Tommy 
returned to the room to see  his  friend  thus occupied.

     "Hey, Mark. Don't start without me," he cried. It could have been
a remark made in jest, but Mark correctly interpreted it  as being
serious. He pulled his hand away from his penis and sat  up like he
was a little kid caught masturbating. He blushed when  he realized
that his prick was standing up parallel to his belly. It was  obvious
to Mark, though, that Tommy had not  really  "waited for  him," 
either. His companion's penis had  been  flaccid  and pretty  well
shrunken when he had left to go to do  the  laundry, but he had
returned with it firm and protruding at about a thirty degree dangle
from his own tummy. His ball sack was drawn up into a tight package as
well.

     "Doesn't  look like you waited for me," Mark  snapped  back,
angry at having been caught. Tommy shrugged and smiled. His  look was
a apology and Mark couldn't stay angry for very long.

     Tommy spoke, "Pop this in the VCR. I think you'll like  it." He
handed Mark a tape labelled "# 4." Mark crawled to the VCR and slipped 
the tape into the machine. There was a ten  second  lead and  then the
movie began. The movie was a straight  porno  movie involving  two 
men and one woman. Both men were  unusually  well endowed but one of
them had a cock that to Mark's eye looked like it  must  have  been at
least twelve inches  long.  He  had  over estimated it, though. When
hard, which it was during much of  the movie, the man's penis was only
ten and a half inches long.

     Mark  quickly settled into a sitting position on  the  floor
against  the  sofa. Tommy knelt beside him, sitting back  on  his
feet.  Both  boys began fondling themselves as they  watched  the
action  progress  quickly on the screen. There was some  sort  of lose 
story  to the movie, but neither boy could  follow  it  nor cared 
that they could not do so. Mark was amazed that the  woman would  take
the men in her mouth and was even more  shocked  that she  could take
the biggest man all the way in. He was sure  that he could see the
outline of his cock in the woman's throat.

     Mark  began  stroking himself steadily, indifferent  to  the fact
that he was about to jack-off in front of his friend. He was too 
riveted by the movie on the screen to care. His pace  picked up when
he felt a hand on his own.

     "Let  me do it, Mark," Tommy declared. "I want to  do  you."
Tommy obviously had been watching Mark closely and made his  move when 
he felt Mark wouldn't be able to say "no." His  timing  was excellent 
for there was no way that Mark was about to  stop  his friend.  Tommy
swung around so that he was facing Mark and  moved the  boy's hand off
of himself. He took the hard, four inch  cock in his fist and let a
long, silvery strand of spittle spatter  on the  red cockhead that
showed above his fingers. Then he began  a slow, firm stroking of
Mark's prick.

     "Do  me,  too," he whispered. Mark looked  down  at  Tommy's
crotch and saw the little boy's penis sticking up at him with  an
aching  hardness  that  he  couldn't  resist.  He  spit  on   his
fingertips and began rubbing the nubbin between them, alternately
looking   at  his  friend's  hard-on,  at  his  own  cock   being
masturbated  by Tommy and at the movie playing on the  TV.  Tommy
began  squirming almost immediately with an intense,  dry  orgasm but
didn't miss a beat on his jack-off buddy's prick.

     On  the movie the man with the bigger cock was being  sucked to 
a  powerful, jiz spattering orgasm that landed all  over  the woman's 
face. The other man was fucking the woman  from  behind. The sight of
the semen shooting from the huge, hard cock was  all the extra
inducement needed to send Mark over the edge. His  cock exploded in a
shower of hot passion which seemed to start deep in his belly. His
balls tightened. A white hot wire of pleasure-pain shot  from  his 
balls, seared the length of his  piss  tube  and shattered  in
blinding fire from his cock slit in a  paroxysm  of pearly-white boy
cum.

     The  jism fell in globules on his chest, then on his  belly. The 
last  dribbles barely oozed out of the abused  penis.  Tommy gave a
final squeeze to the younger, biugger boy's prick and then scooped as
much of the boy's sexual essence up from his chest and belly.

     Mark slid down the front of the couch in exhaustion and  lay
panting on the carpet. He looked over at Tommy in time to see him lick 
a  long strand of spunk into his mouth. Then he  took  what remained 
in  his hand and began jacking on his  own  still  hard pricklet. 
Mark  was  sure that he had brought  the  boy  to  his orgasm.

     "Didn't I make you cum?" he gasped at his friend.

     "Three  times,"  Tommy panted back, "but I've  dreamt  about
using your scum for this for a long...." Tommy hand movements had
whipped the jizzum into a frothy, soapy foam and had whipped  him into 
the  throes  of his fourth dry orgasm in  less  than  three minutes. 
He  collapsed  across Mark's belly  as  he  pounded  at himself,  his
face barely an inch away from the shrinking  prick. As he pulled the
last of convulsions from his own little dick, he let  his tongue snake
out and lap quickly at Mark's. At  last  he was done and rolled off of
his friend.

     
"Whew,"  he gasped. "Fucking A. That was great. I never  had one like
that last one."

     "Shit,  man,"  Mark  said, a  little  embarassed  but  happy
because he had finally done what he had fantasized about for many
evenings  in  bed. "Shit. That was great. I can't cum  more  than once
like you did now that I sperm. But you were real great."

     Tommy pulled himself over really close to Mark's face.  Mark was 
sure that he was going to kiss him, but instead Tommy  stuck his
tongue out and licked at a sticky spot on Mark's cheek.
     "No  sense  in  wasting good spunk," Tommy  said.  Mark  was
relieved  that  the boy hadn't kissed him. He was  also  somewhat
disappointed.

     "You  won't tell..." Mark began. Tommy hit him hard  in  the
chest.

     "Hell no, asshole. You think I want the fuckers at school to know
I'm a fag."

     "Are  you?" Mark asked, confused by what he had just  heard. He
had a strong sense of affection for this tiny, girlish redhead beside 
him.  He  might  even  express it  as  love  if  such  an expression
didn't frighten him so much. He couldn't deny, though, that  the sex
he had just had was the most powerful he  had  ever experienced  and 
it was Tommy's hand that had made him  feel  so good.

     Tommy  answered by giving him a tilt of the head and a  thin
lipped smile, a movement Mark knew was one of Tommy's  expression of 
resignation. Then Tommy burst into a huge smile that  lit  up his face
and pushed worries out of Marks heart.

     "Shit, yeah," Tommy said. "I've been a fag as long as I  can
remember. I think I started liking little boys when I was in pre-
school.  I  remember I used to play doctor or  "peter-pull"  back
then. Most of the boys stopped liking to do it, but I've kept  on
liking  it.  Fuck. I know the assholes at school say I  look  and
sound  like  a girl. I don't care as long as they don't  beat  me up."

     Mark sat up and looked at Tommy. "Do you do this stuff  with
anyone  else?" he asked. Though Tommy thought the questions  were
about him, in reality, Mark was asking them more about himself.

     "Yeah. I never stopped playing dick games with other boys. I just
hadda careful about who I do it with."

     "Who  you  do  it to?" Mark was wide  eyed  now  and  played
absent-mindedly with his flaccid organ.

     
Tommy answered, "I won't tell you. Same as I won't tell them what you
and me did."

     "Anyone I know?"

     "Maybe."  Mark felt sure that the answer carried with  it  a
positive response.

     "Aw, Tommy, tell me." Tommy just shook his head.

     "If you want me to talk to some of my friends and see  about
getting  together,"  the littler boy finally said,  "then  I  can
arrange for us to get together."

     "I don't know," Mark said. "I'm not sure I really like  this fag
stuff." The word had slipped out before Mark realized it  was even  on
his mind. Quickly he blurted out, Sorry, man.  I  didn't mean to say
it."

     Tommy laughed his high pitched giggle. "Don't worry. I don't mind 
the word too much. But don't give me that fuckin'  bullshit about you
not liking it. You loved it and you know you did."

     "But  I  don't think I'm, you know, gay  or  nothing,"  Mark
protested.  Then  he added, "But I guess I'm glad  that  you  are
because I really did like it. And I really like you, too."

     "I'm  glad I am, too.  Otherwise, I wouldn't have been  able to 
jack  you off and have such a good time doing it.  And  don't worry 
about being gay. Maybe you are and maybe you ain't.  Let's just enjoy
ourselves tonight." He leaned over and planted a soggy kiss on Mark's
cheek.

     "Yeah,"  Mark  answered,  lying back down  and  letting  the
lethargy  that usually followed his orgasms envelope him.  "Yeah, more 
of this neat stuff tonight." As he settled onto the  carpet and 
started drifting into the nether world that preceeds  sleep, he was
aware of the movie continuing in the background. The woman was  bent
over a bed and was sucking the man who had just  fucked her. The other
man was at her rear and had her ass cheeks spread. Was  he  going to
do THAT to her? Mark's eyes were  drooping.  He could  no longer keep
them open. He felt his tiny friend  snuggle against him, the other
boy's head lying gently on his belly, then sleep.


MARK'S DILEMMA Chapter Three: Wet Wonders

Mark floated through the soft darkness of his dreams, held in place by the
sweet lethargy of the orgasm his little friend Tommy had brought him to. As
he drifted into the sleep, he wondered where the guilt had gone. He always
felt inescapable pangs of guilt when he jacked off all the way, when the
creamy, foamy squirt erupted from his four and a half hard inches.  He
seldom felt that way before he could cum; those were times that he could
give himself the screaming shivers, one piled on top of another, and rest
for awhile to give himself the energy to start pulling on his sore little
boy-cock.

Images formed in the boy's subconscious like a vaporous fog. The fog
shifted and rose and evolved into a woman who stood with her ass cheeks
spread before him. Her anus was tight, red and squirming under his probing
fingers. He lifted his cock, only it wasn't his own small, boy-cock which
was growing turgid. The organ he held in his hands was the huge one he had
seen on the television screen, but bigger and growing more massive as the
woman's asshole caressed its tip, softly licked it with its moist opening,
sucked it easily into its deep, dark wet warmth.

Mark didn't have to push into the rectum. It sucked him in, pulling his
heat into her. He barely had to move his hips. Her intestine sucked and
chewed along the length of his penis, making him harder as it did. Mark
held onto the woman's rump as he was dragged deeper into the warmth.  The
boy looked down. The cheeks were not the soft, fleshy ones he had first
entered. They had changed in an instant of dream awareness to small round,
befreckled mounds which he could easily clutch in each hand. There was no
fat in them, but only hard, boy sinew.

The woman looked back at Mark as he plunged his prick into her wet asshole
and smiled at him with Tommy's gap-toothed smile. It was still a woman but
it was still Tommy whose sphincter squeezed the hard cock. It was Tommy's
ass which pressed against the bigger boy's belly, crushing his bladder.
Mark always needed to pee after he came. He hadn't gone that last time. Now
the pressure of the woman against him, the beer and soda that filled his
bladder, the wetness of the depths which held him, all conspired to make
him shame himself inside of this woman who was and wasn't at the same time.

He let a squirt of urine escape his penis. The woman wiggled her cheeks
with the condensing moisture. Another squirt and her sphincter had
transformed into a pair of lips. Another, larger jet of urine was sucked
from the boy's penis. With the splash of salty warmth came the awareness
that the huge cock had transmuted back to his own small boy-growing penis
and the knowledge that he was about to lose complete control of his
bladder.

Mark jerked awake. With the jerk his penis fell dribbling against his
abdomen. He clutched at it quickly, stemming the gentle flow. Tommy's head
was pressing against his belly. The freckle faced kid licked his lips and
then smiled at him.

Mark jumped to his feet. Tommy had to scramble quickly to avoid being
dumped onto the floor.

"I gotta piss somethin' fierce," Mark squawked. He started toward the
bathroom. "Were you doing what I think you ...?"

Tommy shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal response and pushed ahead of
his friend. "I gotta go, too. Let's have some of that fun we were talking
about."

Tommy got to the bathroom first. He stripped his last remaining clothing,
dark blue anklets, off and climbed into the tub. When Mark got to the tub,
Tommy grabbed the other boy's cock behind where Mark was pinching it and
squeezed it shut for his friend.

"Ouch" Mark yelled.

"I'll hold it for you," Tommy said without apology, "and you can get your
socks off. Then get your ass in this tub."

Mark looked at the tub. There was a puddle at the drain, a puddle turned
green by the light blue of the tub. He knew it was from the last time they
had gone into the tub, though he hadn't realized that the two of them had
pissed so much. He pulled his socks off as he thought that this time he
alone could probably more than surpass the amount of urine already in the
tub. He also knew that Tommy had something new planned for him.

As Mark climbed into the tub, Tommy knelt in front of him, not yet
relinquishing his grip on the bigger boy's penis. It was firm and full but
not yet turgid.

"I been a bad widdle boy," Tommy said in his most babyish soprano. "I guess
you hafta wee-wee on me." Then he relaxed his grip on Mark's organ but did
not release it.  The piss splashed against his chest and down his tummy and
thighs into the tub.

Mark was momentarily surprised by Tommy's action and involuntarily clamped
shut the muscles which controlled his urination. The yellow, olid stream
stopped.

Tommy stuck his lower lip out in a pout and said in a baby talk voice, "You
don' wike me. You won' do pee-pee on me. Me gonna wee-wee on you."

Tommy stood up, grabbed his own little, puffy dick and aimed it at his
friend. He aimed his own piss stream at Mark and splashed it off of the
boys lower pubis. The piss soaked Mark's hand, belly and legs. Tommy raised
the stream so that it hit the other kids chest and then checked the flow.
Mark couldn't understand why what they doing felt so good when it should be
so wrong.  He didn't try to figure it out, though. He just enjoyed the
feeling he was getting as his penis distended more. The brief squirt he had
made hadn't relieved the pressure he felt inside at all.

"You are a naughty little boy," Mark said, getting into the spirit of
Tommy's game. "Get back down on your knees." Tommy knelt back down, his
face not nine inches from Marks tumescent penis. In spite of his desires,
Mark had trouble starting to pee. He concentrated on what he was doing and
finally, after closing his eyes, a few drops of yellow liquid dribbled out
of his penis and fell ineffectually against Tommy's light red hair. He
concentrated more and squeezed his bladder muscles as hard as he could.
Intestinal gas erupted from his rear hole in a huge, bubbly fart as a spurt
of urine burst from his piss hole.

Tommy giggled as the spate hit him directly in his hair, "You gonna do
poo-poo, too? I wike poo-poos." Then, as the odor of the flatulence reached
him, he abandoned his little boy persona and said, Ugh, that stinks, Mark.
Did you go?"

"Nah," Mark answered, "but I like to fart when I piss." As he spoke, Tommy
lifted his head back and opened his mouth. The geyser of urine hit his face
and then with Mark directing it carefully, landed in his mouth. Tommy
lowered his head a bit and began imbibing the warm, salty bitterness of his
friend's piss.

Time was frozen for the little boy as he watched the cascade flow from the
hardening penis near his face. He moved close, took the cock in his mouth
and drank the piss directly from its source.  Although he swallowed avidly,
he couldn't take all that Mark was giving him. Some of the urine oozed from
his mouth. The excess ran down is chin in a wide, little waterfall. Tommy
was in heaven. His best friend was pissing into his mouth and he, lucky
little faggot, was getting to drink most of it.

There are parts to each of us that we keep hidden from others. There are
also deeper parts which we try to hide from ourselves. Mark was no
exception. There were many times in Mark's life from the time he was a
little boy, that he would lie on his back in the bath tub and piss up into
the air.  Then, if he had to go enough, he would direct the stream into his
open mouth. He could take small amounts of urine this way. The samples
built within him a desire for more. There were times that he would pee into
one of the sink glasses and then sip the yellow liquid. He loved to do
this, but when he had finished, he would push the desire and the memory of
the desire far into the recesses of his subconscious. Pushed further back
were the desires he had to do this to someone else, to piss on them, into
them. Furthest back were pushed the fleeting images he would have while he
drank his urine from the bathroom glass of his kneeling like Tommy was now
kneeling and drinking of another boy's piss.

Mark stopped before he was completely empty, not knowing why, but doing so
anyway. When Tommy stood up, his cheeks were full. He looked at Mark and
spit a thin stream of urine through his teeth which spattered Mark on the
belly, continuing until the small amount he had retained in his mouth was
gone.

Tommy's peter had hardened significantly while he had been drinking his
friend's piss. When Mark knelt before him, Tommy took the other boy's hand
and put it on his balls.

"I ain't gonna be able to do nothing like this. Give 'em a good hard
squeeze, will you?" Mark rolled the testicles between his fingers. Over the
past few months his own balls had grown to the size and shape of almonds.
Tommy's were still tiny marbles in a tight skinned sack. He gave them a
hard squeeze and a twist. His own semi-erect cock jerked up to nearly
complete hardness when he did so. He didn't let go and kept squeezing.

"Ow!" Tommy yelled and doubled over. "Don't hurt me, asshole." Mark let go,
ashamed that causing the boy had given him so much pleasure.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I got carried away."

Tommy said nothing but grabbed his softened dick and directed it at the boy
who had just hurt him. He had no trouble getting the flow going and a thin
but forceful spray of piss burst from his red, little piss slit. He
directed the spray at Mark and played it all around the boy's face before
finally aiming the stream at the open mouth.

Piss spattered against Mark's tongue. He was a little disappointed because
it was thinner tasting than he had hoped, milder than his own bitter piss
often tasted. Then as the flood continued, he began to enjoy the
difference. He gulped as the flow continue. He could feel what he couldn't
swallow run out of his mouth and down his own chin. He crawled closer to
Tommy. He took the little pecker in his fingers and squeezed it shut for a
moment.

"Save a little," he said. "Okay?"

Tommy had lost the anger that he had felt when Mark had squeezed his nuts
so hard. He nodded in accent.

Mark put his lips to the pink acorn he held in his fingers and sucked it
into his mouth.

WOW. An electric shiver coursed through him. A cock. He was sucking on a
cock. It was a small one, he thought, but it tasted of flesh and cool piss
and his all time best buddy. A cock. a dick. A prick. A peter. Another
boy's prickle, pickle, dickle. He released his finger pinch and the urine
surged out into his mouth. It was sweeter, warmer, saltier this way. He had
never thought piss could be both bitter and sweet. Tommy's was. He let his
mouth fill with the warm, acrid liquid and then would swallow what he held.
The other boy's stream began to slow, signifying that this part of the game
would end soon. Mark collected the last of the piss in his mouth as Tommy
had done.

Tommy said, "I saved some like you asked." He thought that Mark was going
to spit it back on him as he had done with Mark. But mark stood up and
pulled the girlish boy against his chest. He stroked the piss wet red hair
for a second and then pulled Tommy's head back and planted his mouth
against the mouth of the startled little boy. He let a squirt of Tommy's
piss spray into Tommy's mouth from his own. Tommy lapped and sucked at it
eagerly.

"Far out," Tommy whispered as he sucked more of his own piss into his
mouth. Soon the boys' mouth were hard against each other, lips open and
piss surging back and forth between them.  They remained plastered
together, sharing the piss when Mark realized why he had saved some in his
bladder. As he swished the urine between their mouths, Mark began pissing
against Tommy's chest. He could feel the warmth flow against both of them
and then he could feel Tommy joining him.

The boys swallowed the last of the piss that they shared in their mouths
just as they finished pissing. Still they kept their mouths planted
together. Mark let his tongue explore Tommy's mouth. He ran it along the
teeth and probed back into the damp cavern.  Tommy let saliva build up and
then pushed it into Mark's mouth with his own tongue. They shared the
frothy saliva like this for a good minute or so. Then Mark hocked deep in
his throat. Before doing anything, though, he waited for a response from
his friend. Tommy nodded his head passionately.  Mark hocked a second time
and spat directly into his friends mouth.

Tommy could feeling the slippery, oozy sputum spatter into his mouth. He
hocked up some of his own from his throat. The one truly boyish thing that
Tommy could do and about which he was proud, was spit. He let the mucous
blend with that which Mark had given him and then spit it forcefully into
Mark's mouth. Mark added to it again and then sent it back.  Seven times
each of the boys hocked and spit. Finally mark had to pull away from the
oral embrace in order to catch his breath.

Tommy stuck out his tongue. There was a large lump of boy mucous on it. He
pulled his tongue back in a let the spittle drip in a sticky strand from
his lips. The spittle grew to about three inches and was about to break off
when he sucked it back in. He did this three times and then put his head
back and swallowed the sticky saliva.

When the two kids had finished, they stood for a moment of silence. Tommy
broke the silence.

"I've never done that before. Have you?" he asked.

Mark just shook his head.

"It's fun, aint it?" Tommy persisted and gave his buddy a slight shove on
his damp belly. Mark smiled. Yes, it had been fun. His and Tommy's hard-ons
proved it. "I mean I've done the piss stuff, but sharing the spit was
fucking A." Tommy sat down in the tub and began splashing around in the
piss puddle. Then he leaned over and began sucking it into his mouth.

"I hate to waste good piss," he said. Mark began pulling on his peter as he
watched his little friend suck up what remained of their mutual urination.
Tommy finished and pulled the other's hand away from himself.

"Save it, Marky. I've got other plans for us. Let's go to my room."


MARK'S DILEMMA Chapter Four: Dirty Dancers

There were three doorways between Tommy's bathroom and his bedroom. For
Mark Nelson, his passage through each doorway was a symbolic transit from
security to confusion. A day earlier he had doubts about his sexuality, but
he could hide those doubts in the back of his mind, ignore them, pretend
that his head did not turn at the sight of certain boys he found cute, that
he did not look longingly at certain men he knew and liked, that his dick
did not really fill with blood and rise at unbidden, unwanted but
thoroughly enjoyable thoughts. Now as he moved toward his small, effeminate
friend's room, he moved closer to having to acknowledge openly to himself
what he feared in the deepest corners of his heart: that he was not like
other boys, that he liked boys and men, that he wanted sex with them, that
he was one of those types of....  Even dripping wet with his friend's piss,
boner waving in front of him as the bitter taste of urine served to remind
him of the depths to which he had sunk, he could not admit that he could
truly be a "fag."

Tommy led the way to his bedroom, leading Mark by his hard penis. He, too,
was wet with piss and sported a hard-on, though his was smaller and less
potent, though no less urgent looking than Mark's. Tommy's bedroom was very
different from Mark's or from most thirteen year old's. There was no
clothing on the floor; the floor was neat; the closet uncluttered; the
bureau top was clean.  The posters on the wall were posters of female
singers and old movies, not heavy metal rock bands and sports cars. Most
unusual, the bed was neatly mad and tucked in.

Tommy pulled the bed clothes back from his bed and indicated that Mark
should get on.

"But I'm all wet with piss," he protested.

"What do you think washing machines are for?" his friend answered with a
squeak and a wink. As Mark climbed onto the bed, the sheet rustled in a
strange way. There was something beneath it.  Mark pulled the corner of the
lower sheet back to reveal a white plasticized sheet beneath it.  Tommy
shrugged his shoulders with an embarrassed smile.

"I guess I still wet the bed sometimes. Well, maybe not sometimes. Maybe
almost every night," Tommy said with his nose crinkled in self-directed
disgust. "You ever wonder how come I never accepted your invitations to
stay over at your house unless I brought my own sleeping bag. My mom
doesn't make a big deal about it, but it pisses me off that I'm thirteen
and I still piss myself at night." Tommy laughed when he realized the
double meaning of his last statement. "Hey, pisses me off. That's not bad."
Mark laughed too.

"That's not all you get wet. Your bed, I mean," Mark said and shook his
head like a big puppy.  Urine sprayed from his wet hair and spattered
Tommy. They both laughed and fell to the mattress.  They wrestled for a
brief moment , but Mark easily pinned his smaller friend, tickled him and
rubbed his piss wet hair in Tommy's face until, giggling and gasping for
air, Tommy cried "uncle" and Mark stopped.

Mark dropped on Tommy, his nakedness lying full along the other boy, his
hardness settling into a space between Tommy's legs five inches below his
pubis. Tommy's erection stabbed briefly at Mark's belly before slipping
between their bare skin, pointing up toward the boys' belly buttons.  The
boys' lips brushed for the briefest of moments in a chaste kiss, then Mark
forced his tongue between the soft, pursed lips of the boy beneath him.
Tommy's mouth tasted faintly of urine as he was sure he did for Tommy's
probing tongue. Their tongues twisted around each other, licked and played
inside the warm wetness of each others mouths while the two started moving
themselves in rhythms dictated by their passion and needs. Mark thrust
evenly downward between the skinny legs that held his prick in their light
touch. Tommy wriggled and pushed his penis up against the rounded belly of
his friend.

"Faggot. Faggot. Faggot. Faggot." thought Mark with disgust about himself.
While stopping for the fleetingest times to catch his breath, Mark let
escape another phrase, more like an exhalation from his lungs that actual
words, sounds audible on the periphery of Tommy's passion but not distinct
enough to be confidently understood. In his youthful wisdom, Tommy knew not
to ask for a repetition, but tingled with joy and excitement to hear what
he thought were the three words he longed for from his friend but thought
he'd never actually hear. Tommy thrust and rubbed his hardness faster
against Mark's adolescent chubbiness. He panted and gurgled against the
mouth that trapped his voice. His body shivered in the surge of enjoyment
that he sought so often on his own or from others but which came this time
with so much power and passion that he thought it would burst his chest and
he would die glued to his lover's lips.

The chills subsided and with them the intensity of the moment for both
boys. Mark relinquished his hold on Tommy and the older, smaller boy
scrambled from beneath Mark and got to his feet.  His penis wilted in the
aftermath of his dry orgasm. His balls hid inside his lower abdomen and the
penile shaft shrank so that it was the whole thing was no more than
three-quarters of an inch.  Mark's, though, was still hard. It arched
upward from his pubis to touch his belly. For all of his experience with
sex with himself and others, Tommy was disoriented and confused by the
intensity of what had just transpired. He needed time to catch his breath
and his wits. He needed to do something to change the fervor of the moment.

Tommy was an amateur magician, a good one for being only a few days into
thirteen years old, who spent much of free time practicing tricks. He had a
lot of free time because he avoided many of the normal activities of boys
his age. He also spent many hours dancing by himself, filling otherwise
lonely hours moving to music and fantasies. These two pursuits came
together in a gestalt formed by the discomfort of the passion that had just
passed. He flipped on his tape player and pulled a long, flimsy silk scarf
from his magic box. Mark lay on his side, his arm propping his head up so
he could see what his friend was going to do.

Sinead O'Connor's voice flowed from the speakers. Tommy took the scarf and
wrapped it about his waist. The silk covered the boy's flaccidity but did
not hide it. He pulled one end of the scarf from behind and up between his
legs and tucked it in at the waist making a colorful, exotic, erotic
covering for his shrunken nakedness. He did this with such ease that Mark
knew that Tommy had made harem pants like these many times while on his
own.

Tommy danced and spun to the thready voice of the Irish singer. His grace
took each note and pulled it into its own thread that he wove into a
sensuous visual poem. As the tempo of the music picked up, he picked up the
pace of his movements, unhooking the scarf from his waist and drawing it
seductively back and forth over his soft, tiny penis, moving alternatively
closer and farther away from Mark.

Mark watched the small boy move. The sensual, sexual aspects of the dance
were not lost on him.  As Tommy moved closer to Mark, the dancer would
cover his genitals with the scarf; as he moved away, he would expose
himself. Each movement toward the rapt boy lying on the bed brought Tommy
closer until; the final part of the dance was performed inches away from
Mark.  Tommy covered and uncovered himself, chafing his organ with the silk
so that it was slowly beginning to regain some of its substance. He stood
bare inches from Mark, swaying his hips, rubbing the silk against the skin
of his friend's face, swinging his penis in rhythm to the music. The music
faded and the dance ended with the scarf wrapped around Mark's head and
eyes, Tommy's pubis thrust forward so that the now firm, limp penis was
pushing the silk of the scarf against Mark's nose.

The dance, though passionate, erotic and sexual, had changed the mood
between the boys as Tommy had intended. The passion was no longer internal,
a shared sensation between the boys; it was now external. Where a few
minutes earlier both boys had been feeling discomforting love for each
other, now the emotion was hormone driven horniness.

"Pretty sexy, Tommy," Mark said. "You do a great strip tease."

Tommy unwrapped the scarf from around Mark's face but kept his penis in
place. Mark had jacked on the little sausage earlier and had sucked on it
while it pissed into his mouth, but he had not really examined it closely.
There were, indeed, a few freckles along its length.

Mark commented as he picked up the shaft, "I've looked at my own dick. Even
used a mirror to do it, but I've never really looked at it close up.
They're kinda funny looking, ya know."

"Be my guest," Tommy answered. "Take a good look."

Tommy lay down on the bed, and the boys rearranged themselves so that Mark
could get a good look at Tommy's penis. Tommy was still well over a year
away from puberty so the glans of his penis had not begun to change its
shape. It was a little pink mushroom cap on the penile shaft with a hint of
blue to it. Mark squeezed the tip and a small, golden yellow drop oozed
from it. He squeezed again and made it wink at him. The skin on the shaft
was translucent and thin; tiny deep blue veins showed when Mark stretched
the skin on the shaft. A shiver ran through Mark's body as he examined his
buddy's dick. Why did he enjoy touching this little bit of flesh so much?

Mark's hands travelled to the scrotum. About as big as a walnut, it hung
loose and pendulent between Tommy's skinny legs, encasing peanut sized
testicles which dangled unevenly in the smooth skin. Mark felt his own ball
sack in comparison. The skin on his was rough and crinkly right then. There
were freckles on the hairless sack too.

"Dicks are pretty interesting. Aren't they?" Tommy commented. He swung
himself into position so that he could investigate Mark's organ while
having his own scrutinized.  Mark played with his penile shaft a bit
longer, then Tommy continued, "It's funny how different they can be.
Particularly when they are all grown up."

Mark sneered at his friend, "Yeah, like you've a lot of big ones."

"Maybe I have," Tommy squeaked back. "Have you ever looked real close at a
banana?"

"No," Mark answered quizzically, wondering where the sudden shift in
conversation would go.

"Well, big shot ass-hole, hold on for a minute." Tommy pulled away from
Mark and scampered from the room. He returned a few minutes later with a
half a banana in his hand. At this time, Mark was sitting on the bed. Tommy
sat behind him.

"See how the banana is in three parts," he said showing the fruit to his
friend. "Well a man's prick is kinda like that. It's made up of three
tubes, two on top and one on the bottom. A triangle sorta; not a circle
like mine. See, look at yours. You can see how it's starting to get that
way since it's starting to get big."

Mark looked more closely at his penis. It was still much like a little
boy's penis in shape but had begun to take on some size, however, he could
discern the lower tube of tissue running the length of the bottom and the
two tubes on top, though faintly. Tommy was right.  And Tommy's didn't have
the obvious three parts to it that Mark's did.

"How did you find this out? Did you read it somewhere?"

Tommy glared playfully at Mark. "I was looking at a friend's cock one day,
looking real close, and noticed it. I asked him about it and he gave me the
banana story." Tommy began eating the fruit.

Mark said, "I suppose you're gonna tell me that you were playing with a
grown man's cock."

Tommy nodded his head several times in verification.  "You don't think
you're my first victim, do you?" Tommy cackled.

"Well, you said you done it with another kid at school. I think I can guess
who that is. But a man?  That's gross."

"No it isn't," Tommy protested. "And I've been with a lot of guys. Maybe
not a lot, but more than just you."

Mark was perplexed by what Tommy was telling him. The idea of a man
fondling his friend as he was doing at that moment bothered him in a way
that bothered him more than he chose to admit.

"That's child abuse, though."

"What if I want it, asshole," Tommy snapped defensively. He let the pique
he felt at his friend pass and decided to explain. "Let me tell you how it
is, Mark. You see, I've been doing real sex stuff with grownups for about
two years. The first time with a grown up was when I was eleven. You kinda
asked me in the rec room if I liked being a fag. I don't really. I mean I
like the stuff I do and how it feels. Sometimes I feel like a girl . When
I'm by myself, I don't usually mind. But I hate it when kids tease me and
make fun of me. I don't know why I'm this way. I just am.

"Anyway, a couple of years ago I was coming home from school. I walked
through Pigeon Court Park. I was in fifth grade in grammar school and a
bunch of guys from middle school stopped me.  They were mostly seventh and
eighth graders. They knew me and started pushing me around.  Calling me
"fag" and "sissy" and "Girl." I knew they were right and I couldn't fight
back, even if I wanted to. Which I didn't.

"They pulled me to a hidden corner and pushed me onto the ground and were
rubbing my face into the mud and laughing and everything. One of them was
saying I should suck his cock. They rolled me onto my back. The one who was
saying that got on me and pushed his crotch in my face.  He was wearing
shorts and I can still remember what he smelled like.  He was a big kid and
he had a big dick in his pants. I could tell because he was hard.

"While the guy on top of me pushed his crotch in my face, I heard on of the
other guys say 'Let's pants him.' They pulled my pants off without taking
off my belt or unsnapping them. As they pulled my pants down, one of them
said 'The little faggots got a bone on.  He likes it.' I did, even as I
hated it.

Well, the kid on top of me didn't need any encouragement. He yanked his
shorts down and his cock jumped out. That was the first big one I'd ever
seen. You see, I'd played with some friends a lot, for a long time, too,
and even sucked them. But they were all had little ones. The hardness of
this kid scared me but I wanted that cock really bad. I wanted to grab it
and take it lovingly in my mouth. But the kid had my arms pinned. He shoved
it in my mouth with a threat that if I bit him, he'd kill me. I know he was
serious, too. I could see some of the other boys out of the corner of my
eyes. At least two of them had their pants down and their hardons out,
pulling on them, getting ready for me. He fucked my mouth viciously for
about ten seconds. I knew I was gonna puke and was real close when he shot
his load into me. It was hot, salty and bitter. And I loved it.  I began
swallowing and got it down as well as choking back the puke.

"The leader fell off of me, exhausted to be replaced by a kid with a skinny
prick. I sucked him off in about thirty seconds. He shot but only a little
bit. A third kid climbed and grabbed my hair . He punched me in the face,
making my nose bleed. He forced his hard-on in my mouth and began fucking
it real hard. The blood was running down the back of my nose and into my
throat. This time I really did puke. I threw up all over his belly. Bloody
vomit was ever where, including in his dick hair. That pissed him off bad
and he began punching me real hard.  That's when I heard a voice, a man's
voice, call out. Someone was yelling at the kids. I could hear him running
to me.  The bastard jumped off of me swearing. He pulled his pants up but
had to pull them over all of the blood and vomit. The kids ran away.

"The man ran over to me and lifted me up. I was in pretty bad shape. And
pretty disgusting to.  Everything was a fog. I just knew, though, that this
guy was something real special. I passed out then.

"When I awoke, I was in the man's apartment. He had bathed me. He told me
that I'd be okay.  Nothing was broken. If I wanted to call the police to
report the kids, he'd be a witness. I shook my head 'no.' He said he didn't
think I'd want to."

Tommy paused for a moment and finished off the banana.

"That's how I met Cal."

Mark asked, "And he's the guy you have sex with?"

"Yeah. And some of his friends over the last two years. Not right away. But
I knew I was gonna do it with him that first day. I just knew it would
happen."

Mark shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know. It still sounds like child
abuse."

"Look, Mark," Tommy replied, "I'm the one who made the first move with hi.
Like I did with you.  I set it up. He tried to keep it from happening. But
I made it happen. I'll tell you about it some day. And ya know how I don't
get along with my step father. Well, Cal is more than a dad for me.  I
really love him and would do anything he wants."

"Does he suck you? Nod

"Do you suck him?" Another nod.

"All the way?" Nod.

"Do you jack him off?" Nod.  "Do you do other stuff? You know." A long,
slow, series of nods in affirmation.

"That's gross," Mark whined. He felt angry by what Tommy had told him. He
tried to tell himself that he was repulsed by the idea of Tommy having sex
with a man. What really bothered him, though, were two other things, things
he couldn't recognize or admit to himself. This man Cal was an interloper.
He came between his little friend and himself. He threatened the burgeoning
love he hid in his heart. Even more obscure for Mark, was the jealousy he
felt. His own father never had much time for him. Mark would love to have
had a man hold him, love him, make him feel good about himself. Now he had
found out that his best friend, no his only real friend, has such a
relationship and he didn't. FUCK.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. because he was so small and young looking,
people often felt that Tommy should not have the depth of intelligence or
understanding that he did. He sensed what Mark was feeling.

"Do your folks know?" the bigger boy asked.

"They know that Cal is a friend of mine. They let us go places and stuff.
But the sex. No. They don't know." Tommy said. Then he added, "Cal has a
friend who would like a special friend of his own. That's what we call our
relationship. I think he'd like you."

"Shut up. I ain't interested in no fag," Mark snapped. "Let's drop this
shit and do something."

"Okay by me," Tommy said. "I really do have freckles on my asshole. Want to
see them?"

"I guess so," Mark answered.

"Let me see yours first, though," Tommy said.

"Okay."

Tommy had Mark lie down on his back with himself between the boy's legs. He
had Mark pull his legs up over his head to expose his rear hole. Tommy bent
close and touched an area near the hole but still on Mark's cheek with a
finger.

"You're pretty crusty back there, dude," he said, pulling his finger out
and showing it to Mark. It was lightly streaked with brown.

"Yeah," Mark snarled, "and I saw your under-roos. they were pretty crusty
yourself."

"I didn't say I didn't like it that way," Tommy continued. He bent over
close to the exposed rump and tickled around the hole. Then, when Mark
least expected it, he licked at the chubby flesh. "In fact, I love cleaning
it up."

"You're gross," Mark said. But he loved the feel of his friend's tongue
swooping around his cheeks, licking up the streaks of feces which always
gave him skid marks.  His hardening cock attested to that. Tommy continued
licking until his tongue brushed the tight pucker. He lingered there,
pushing at it with the tip of his tongue, letting spittle drool onto it and
down the boy's crack. Push. Push, the tip stretched the hole a little and
Mark's cock jumped. As the hole stretched, Tommy placed his finger at the
opening.

"Ever put your own finger in?" He asked. Mark nodded yes. "What about other
stuff?" Mark shook his head 'no' not wanting to tell Tom about the many
times with marbles, jaw breakers and finally hot dogs.

"The thing about using you own finger," Tommy continued, "is that it
doesn't fit far enough back.  Not far enough to..."

At this point he shoved his finger all the way up the other boy's asshole
and simultaneously sucked the hardened cocklet into his mouth. His finger
immediately found Mark's prostate. Mark had never known this button was
there and the digital attack, coupled with Tommy's violent sucking of his
cock, brought him to his crisis immediately. There was no build up to his
orgasm as there usually was. Tommy pushed the button and the fire exploded
within him, white, hot, intense.  Pleasure soaked with pain burned the
penis, seared its length as the stickiness exploded from his cock into
Tommy's siphoning mouth. He shot all of his wad with thee violent squeezes
of the prick's shaft, but the organ kept vibrating, squeezing, spasming
long after it had deposited its load.

"Holy shit. Holy mother of god. Jesus fuck Mary," he yelled as Tommy sucked
and stabbed.  "Cock sucking shit. Fuck, fuck fuckfuck." He thrust up into
the warm, sticky mouth and back down onto the sharp, pointed finger.

Finally the waves of ecstasy passed. Tommy pulled his finger from the
tightened hole. Mark jerked with the discomfort of its withdrawal and fell
back onto the bed with a final shiver and a prolonged passing of air that
had been pumped into him.

"What the hell was that?" he panted.

"Your prostate. Never knew it was there, did you," Tommy answered. "Stick
with me, kid, and we'll go places." Mark had his eyes closed. when he had
caught his breath, he opened them.  Tommy was sitting on the bed, finger in
his mouth.

"You taste pretty good, Mark."

"You are gross."

"My turn."

Mark didn't really feel much like doing anything, but his bud had just
given him one of the finest orgasms he'd ever had. How could he refuse.
They reversed positions, Tommy on his back and Mark between his legs. Mark
lifted the slight boy's legs up to open his crack and reveal the nether
regions of the boy. His nose was immediately assaulted with a rush of fetid
odor. His own asshole had been streaked, he knew, but Tommy's was filthy.

"How the hell am I supposed to see any freckles down there, if its all
covered in shit," he complained. And covered it was. Tommy reached beneath
the bed and withdrew a box of Kleenex.

"I didn't wipe the last time I pooped," he said, "in case we got this far.
I won't ask you to lick it clean. Like I did for you. But will you wipe
it?"

Mark scrunched up his nose. He took the tissue and proceeded to wipe the
fecal residue from around his friend's hole. He spit on the tissue and
cleaned some more.  There were freckles there, right on the tight, crinkled
skin of the sphincter. As perverse as it seemed, he enjoyed cleaning his
friend. When he had used three tissues and the area was fairly clean, he
leaned over and gave it a quick lick. It was still acid tasting. It smacked
of the same redolent bitterness that his finger did when he would lick it
after putting it up his own butt. He would never tell Tommy about that. Or
maybe he would.

Mark spit on Tommy's asshole and licked his finger. Then he pushed it at
the tight, red-brown pucker. Tommy squeezed his muscles to make the hole
pucker more and squeezed out a puff of rectal gas. As the sphincter
collapsed closed, it sucked the finger halfway into it. Mark needed no more
inducement. He pushed the spit slick finger the rest of the way in.

"Curl it up and poke at the inside," directed Tommy between gasps of air.
Mark did as he was told and felt the little lump protruding against the
rectal wall. Tommy shivered.

"Pull out," he said, " and put two fingers in." Mark did so. Tommy pushed
his ass up against the intrusion and began wriggling so that the two
fingers inside him rubbed back and forth against his swollen gland. "Suck
me, Marky. "Suck me."

Mark bent down and sucked the stiff two and a half inches into his mouth.
He poked in concert to his head's movement, stabbing at Tommy's prostate.
Tommy began spasming within seconds, but unlike Mark, his orgasm built
slowly to its peak, , crested and dropped down higher that it had started
and built up again. Tommy grabbed Mark's head and pushed it completely down
against his belly as he pressed upward with his abdomen as hard as he
could. Orgasm followed orgasm, each going a little higher that the previous
one until he was jerking wildly on the bed. Mark could feel the inner nut
twitching. The ring of muscle which trapped his fingers was clutching madly
at them. Surges of rectal gas pushed past the intruders, filling the air
around Mark's nose with the fetor of shit. Finally, Tommy shivered one
long, intense seizure, sticky moisture oozed out of the abused hole and
over Mark's hand and Tommy collapsed against the bed.

"Hey, man," Mark cried, "you shit on me." He held his hand disdainfully
away from his body. The knuckles were smeared with a small amount of soft
feces. "Oh well." He really didn't care.

The boys cleaned up then spent the rest of the evening watching TV,
drinking sodas and talking, rehashing what had gone on between them but
carefully avoiding the subject of Cal. Finally they were both ready for
bed. Mark was going to go piss but Tommy told him not to. "You'll feel
really hot when you wake up if you don't," he explained.

Mark was expecting to sleep in the sleeping bag he had brought over, but
Tommy convinced him to share his bed. Nude. Mark wasn't used to sharing a
bed with anyone. He lay on his back for awhile, arms behind his head,
thinking about the events of the day.

"Tommy," he asked at one point, "do you really like this guy Cal?"

"Yeah," Tommy replied sleepily, "love him."

Mark closed his eyes and turned on his side, facing Tommy. Tommy laid his
arms over the boy. A few more minutes passed.

"Tommy, are you awake?"

"Kinda."

"Does he make you do stuff you don't want?"

"Unhn. Only what I want. When I want if I don't wanna do stuff, we don't.
Now go to sleep."

A few more minutes: "What's his friend's name?"

"Bill."

"Have you met him?"

"Yeah. Sex too. Nice guy. Gentle"

"You say he wants a friend like you?"

Tommy sat up in bed and glared at his friend. "If I call Cal tomorrow and
arrange to meet with them, will you let me sleep?"

"Yeah, Tom. I guess so."

Tommy lay back down and fell asleep quickly. It took Mark a lot longer
until sleep overtook. He no longer was sure who he was or where he was
going. His life had spun around and taken a direction that scared him.
Suddenly he didn't want to meet this guy Cal or his stupid friend. what was
his name? Oh, yeah. Bill.


MARK'S DILEMMA Chapter Five: Sweet Awakening

Sleep is a soft cover of aloneness that keeps loneliness at bay.

It is funny how entrenched in our sleep patterns we become. There are some
of us so accustomed to a warm and receptive body next to us in bed that the
absence of a loved one's breath and warmth will cause us to toss and turn
through the night. Others, those unaccustomed to sleeping with another
person, will lie in fitful sleep when there is a friend holding onto him in
bed at night.  Then, there as those like Tommy who have tasted of the sweet
restfulness that comes from lying in the bends and folds of a loved one but
who cannot sup of it regularly who, when there is someone next to them whom
they love, will attach themselves barnacle-like to their beloved bedmate
for the night.

Tommy slept well this night, holding onto Mark, cuddling into the crevices
formed by the bigger boy's body, dreaming honeyed dreams of Cal, the man he
loved, and of Mark, the boy he loved.  They were dreams free from sex. Sex
had filled the wakeful parts of the tiny teenager's life just then; sleep
was for unencumbered love and play.

Mark, though, was not used to having someone else in bed with him. Sleep
was grabbed in fitful bits and pieces. The events of the day had also
conspired to rob him of his rest. He would doze off to dreams of Tommy,
naked, his poker waving in front of him. Sometimes in the dreams it was he,
Mark, who was tickling, touching, kissing the boy. He would wake from these
dreams breathless, hard, anxious, scared that they foretold of a burden of
love he didn't want to carry. There were faceless men in the dreams as
well. Although Tommy had not told him so, Mark sensed correctly that Cal
and his friend Bill were not the only men who had played with the small
boy's body.  When these men would populate Mark's dreams, taking Tommy to
levels of passion only reached in dreams and in young boys' lives, fondling
him, sucking him, pissing on him, fucking him - oh god, the idea twisted
Mark's belly even in the dreams - Mark would awaken angry. The thoughts
accompanying the anger troubled Mark as much as the dream. It was he who
should be doing those things to the effeminate boy he loved. It should be
his hands on the boy, his mouth on the little penis, his urine splashing
into his friend's mouth, his cock up the tight anus. If it wasn't he who
played with his friend, then why couldn't the faceless named and unnamed
men play with...with him?

He was no fag, Mark told himself. he didn't want creepy men putting their
hands all over him. He couldn't help the content of his dreams. He couldn't
help the jealousy he felt upon awakening. He couldn't help the hardon the
thought of being held, kissed and loved by a man gave him.

Mark eventually was able to chase the demons which plagued his sleep far
enough away to settle into a dreamless rest.

Eyes open. Sunlight paints the room a soft yellow. Mark is immediately and
completely awake.  Tommy has attached himself front to front to Mark. The
small boy hugs his friend tightly to him in his sleep, his pubis pressed
against Mark's belly. Mark can feel the firm, little penis between them.
He understands at once why he awakened so suddenly and completely. Warmth
spreads from the little penis, warmth and wetness.

The boy's first impulse is to jerk away from his enuretic friend, wake him
up so that he will not wet the bed. He resists this impulse and lies in the
embrace feeling the urine drain against his stomach and dribble down to the
sheet. The flow is slow, languid, not forced and forceful. Mark lies in the
dampness of the sheets, inhaling the sour fetor of the cooling piss. His
own bladder is full. His body, keyed by intensive toilet training years
earlier, had awakened him so that the wetness he is feeling seep against
him would not cause his bladder to relax and empty itself. He lies there
for a moment, the strength of the odor fading as the wetness spreads wider
on the sheet.  Then Mark does what he wanted to do when he had jerked
awake.

With Zen-like detachment from his body and all of the rules he has hung on
it, Mark relaxes. Piss seeps from the urinary meatus of his penis and
dribbles against Tommy's legs. Gradually the force of the stream increases
and Mark takes his penis between his fingers and directs the spray upward
so that it splashes against Tommy's balls and up between their bellies.
Because the sheet was already wet from Tommy's pissing, the wetness from
Mark's disperses quickly, spreading far beyond the confines of the damp
spot Tommy had made. As Mark still pisses, the puddle extends as far as his
head and knees, extends beyond his rump.

Still asleep, Tommy snuggles closer to the boy who is soaking him and his
bed, aware in his sleep what is happening. He mumbles something and presses
his lips toward Mark's mouth. Mark accepts his kiss and returns it, tongue
on tongue as he finishes releasing the last of the hot urine from his body.

When Mark awakened, the sunlight had brightened to an intense yellow. The
wet spot left from his and Tommy's earlier urination was no longer warm and
comforting. His head was lying in the cold sogginess. Even his hair had
gotten damp. The odor was sharp, disagreeable, reminiscent of old alleyways
or the stairwells at the bus station. Instead of turning away from the
scent, Mark rolled into it and buried his nose in it, inhaling the stench,
savoring it and the idea that he had added to his friend's secret shame. He
took a wad of the wet sheet with his teeth. His penis hardened as he rubbed
his own nose in the dankness and sucked.

Mark lifted his head from the wet sheet just as Tommy entered the room.
Tommy was unaware of what Mark had been doing, or if he was, gave no
indication of being so. The small boy carried a tray of Eggo waffles, two
cups of cocoa and a bottle of syrup. The pair of slippers he wore on his
feet was all that he wore. His penis was a little worm hanging below the
tray he carefully brought into the room.

"Breakfast," Tommy called cheerfully and laid the tray on the table next to
the bed. Mark felt a twinge of the discomfort he had felt during the night:
discomfort borne of desire and passion. Sure he was turned on by the sex
Tommy shared with him. He could rationalize that at least as well as he
could understand the pleasure he got from jacking off even though he knew
both were sins and that masturbation always left him depressed and angry
with himself for succumbing to the temptation his penis, pendulant or
erect, always provided. It was not just the sex that bothered him. He felt
something different from horniness when Tommy padded into the room. The sex
urge was bad enough. The other feeling, the desire to grab the little boy,
pull him to his chest, plunge his own tongue into the others mouth and suck
saliva, mucous and the girlish boy's soul right out of his body, now that
desire haunted Mark.

Mark sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Tommy sat beside
him, carefully arranging the lower sheet so as to avoid sitting on the
massive piss spot on it.

"It was a real flood last night," he said dismally.

Mark was taken back by Tommy's grimness. He had enjoyed the early morning
piss play with his friend. That Tommy was asleep when he peed added to
Mark's enjoyment. And Tommy had been so dominant and self-assured in
everything the boys had done so far this weekend that this bleakness ran
counter to his spirit.

"I always pee the bed when I'm excited about something," Tommy continued,
wearing a wry, pained smile. "The more excited, the more I pee." He reached
up and touched the side of Mark's head, taking a lock of hair between his
fingers. "I even got your hair wet." There were tears in his eyes. Mark
could not believe how badly Tommy felt.

"It's all right. Don't worry," Mark began to explain. Tommy interrupted
before Mark could finish.

"It's not all right. I'm thirteen years old and I still pee the bed. I'm
small. I still have a little boy's body. When I wet the bed, my mother gets
mad at me and says I'll never grow up. That I'm a big baby. Little baby is
more like it. I bet that God is punishing me for pissing in bed by not
letting me grow up." The words poured from Tommy's mouth just as tears
overflowed his eyes.

"Hey, asshole," Mark snapped at Tommy, trying to jerk him from his mood,
"sure you pissed the bed last night. No, it was more like this morning you
did it. It woke me up. And I thought it was a gas having you piss on me in
your sleep. So I pissed back on you. That's why the bed's so wet.  And it's
my own piss on my hair. And God ain't punishing you for doing it.  I hear
of men who still do it. If God is punishing you, it's for being a jerk and
an asshole."

Tommy laughed at his friend's admonishment, shrugged his shoulders, took a
plate of waffles from the tray and handed it to Mark. He slipped in to the
bed next to the boy.

"It sure is cold and wet," Tommy said, scrunching his nose up.

"Want some syrup?" Tommy asked. The subject was changed. Mark turned back
into the bed.

The boys ate and drank quickly as boys that age are wont to do. Just as
they finished, Tommy picked up the squeeze bottle of syrup and held it over
his open mouth. He let a stream of amber-brown syrup drizzle in.

"Let me have some," Mark said reaching for the bottle. Tommy didn't give
the bottle to him but indicated by his motions that he would feed it to his
friend. Mark tilted his head back and Tommy squeezed the bottle. Mark
swallowed the syrup as it drooled from the container. He closed his mouth
to swallow and Tommy moved the bottle slightly, dribbling stickiness on
Mark's chin, chest and finally onto the bigger boy's crotch. Tommy trickled
the syrup onto Mark's few red pubic hairs and then onto the flaccid penis.

"I love syrup on my sausages," Tommy said as he bent over and began licking
the stick mess on Mark's pubis.

Mark pushed Tommy away and said, "I like syrup on my sausages, too. Gimme
that bottle." He took the syrup from Tommy's hand and squeezed a big gob
onto the little nubbin that was just starting to grow to firmness in
between Tommy's thighs. Then he bent over and began licking at the sticky
little boy sausage that rapidly grew to hardness beneath his tongue. Tommy
wriggled to get into position to continue licking the syrup off of Mark's
pubis. He spent extra time pulling on the boy's pubic hairs with his teeth.

"Hey," Mark said with his mouth full of sweetened boy meat, "careful of
those. I don't have enough to spare yet."

Tommy answered, "I will. You got more 'en me, for sure. I don't have any
yet."

Tommy dove back to his preening. His tongue followed the lines of brown
maple syrup to the root of Mark's erection. He had to concentrate hard on
what he was doing to Mark because Mark was lapping at his hard-on and had
sucked it into his mouth. Tommy was on the edge of his first orgasm of the
day and if it began with Mark's boner in his mouth, he might hurt his
friend. He focused on the sweetness of the syrup and the smoothness of the
skin in his mouth, pushing to the rear of his consciousness the prickling
his own penis was beginning to experience. Mark obliged Tommy's strategy by
beginning his own climax almost at once. A gout of semen spattered into the
back of Tommy's mouth. Another followed immediately. The urgency of the
spasms gripped Mark and caused him to suck as hard as he could at the flesh
boyhood in his mouth. Tommy jerked with the pain that Mark's suction caused
but did not release the prick he was sucking, drinking of all the sticky
goo that Mark spewed forth.

The pain Mark had caused him was all of the impetus that Tommy needed to
begin his own, dry spasms. He reached his crowning point as Mark was at the
strongest, gooiest, spermiest peak of his own. Tommy thrust his jerking
cocklet deep into Mark's mouth, fucking the wet lips of his lover violently
with his dry passion. Mark's cock finished its explosions and was drooping
to softness within Tommy's lips, but Tommy kept thrusting and plugging.
Finally the electricity shooting through his penis softened as did his cock
and he fell away from his friend, flaccid and happy.

Semen dribbled from the corners of Tommy's mouth and onto his chin. He
opened his mouth wide to show strand of cum stretching from lips to tongue.

"I not only like syrup with my sausage," he said, licking the last of
Mark's sperm from his lips, "I like cream with it, too."

The boys lay on the mattress catching their breath for a few minutes.
Tommy's stomach rumbled and then he announced, "I gotta go do number two."

Mark collapsed on the bed in laughter. "Number two?  God, Tommy. You just
sucked my dick.  You drank my piss.  You've done just about everything. And
you still say 'number two'?"

Tommy smiled. "Sorry. I have to go SHIT. Is that better? And I haven't done
everything. Not yet."

Mark slid off the bed after his friend. "I gotta go, too. Can I come with
you?"

"I guess so," Tommy said. "I don't mind if you watch."

Mark followed his friend back into the room that had been the scene of
their first wet encounter.  As with many large families, Mark's family was
open about nudity, body functions and the like.  Tommy's, though, was very
private. Even though Tommy had explored sex with others much more fully
than most boys his age, even though he now felt comfortable about engaging
in water sports, he still felt awkward about defecating in front of people.
During private moments, he enjoyed the sexual, sensual pleasures that anal
play produced. He had masturbated on the toilet while defecating many times
and loved the way it felt. He had discovered enemas on his own and had
wanted to share the pleasure with his man friend, but he couldn't even bear
to 'do number two' at school, knowing that someone might walk into the
boy's room while he was in the stall.  Stepping across the threshold into
the bathroom with Mark following close behind him was a step across a
bigger threshold in his own life.

For Mark's part, his desire to follow Tommy had a perverse edge to it.
While it was true that his family was open about nudity and body functions,
the openness was borne of necessity. Mark had seen his brothers piss in the
toilet many times and it had never meant much to him. Not like watching
Tommy at close range last night or actually feeling the warmth spray
against his body.  There had been many times, too, when Mark would be
brushing his teeth or taking a bath when one of the other boys would be
sitting on the pot. Mark had thought nothing of it other than the fact that
it was a nuisance, a nuisance that smelled. But now, he had shared so much
intimacy with Tommy, he wanted to share a little more. And he sensed that
he was entering into a private, secret area in Tommy's life that he could
break open if only slightly.

Tommy sat on the toilet. He had to stretch to touch the floor with his bare
toes. His face became frozen in concentration as he strained to begin. He
grunted hard. A small puff of gas squeaked from his anus.

"Hey, Tommy," Mark chided, "you fart like you talk. High and squeaky."
Tommy glared at Mark with a look that told him "That's not funny." Mark
thought it was funny though.

Tommy strained again. He could tell that his intestine was full and ready
to be emptied. He just couldn't get his body to cooperate. He grunted once
more. This time a long, low pitched rumble pushed from his anus, filling
the room with a malodorous wind.

"That's more like it," Mark commented. Tommy sneered again. He pushed one
more time and could feel a lump forcing his rectum open. He exerted his
abdominal muscles once again and the lump fell from its perch on his anus
and fell with a tiny 'plop' to the water in the toilet bowl beneath him. He
knew that any further effort at that time was useless. His body revolted
against being so open with another.

"I guess that's it," Tommy said and reached for some paper.

"That's it?" Mark cried in disbelief? "That's all you can do? Let me see."
He walked to stand next to Tommy. The seated boy was suddenly faced with a
difficult situation.  His sense of privacy was being challenged. Not
wanting to seem uptight, he stood to let his friend look at the product of
his straining. Mark looked in while Tommy looked over his shoulder. A
single, small turd about the size and shape of a marble floated in the
water.

"I guess I don't like to poop in front of other people," Tommy said
dismally. He was holding the toilet paper at his side. Mark took the paper
from hi.

"You don't really need this, I guess. But let me wipe you. Okay?"

Since it was not a matter of Tommy having to do something he was
uncomfortable doing, but rather a matter of his complying with Mark's
wishes, he readily agreed to have the other boy wipe him. This was to be a
first in his life. He turned to face his rear toward Mark and bent over,
his hands pulling his rump apart to expose his hole.

Mark took the paper and wiped at Tommy's hole with his middle finger. He
looked at the paper.  There was a single, thin brown line, much like a
crayon streak.

"Hardly worth the wasting the paper for this one," Mark said and dropped
the paper into the toilet. "Now move over and let me show you how it's
done."

Mark sat down on the toilet and with barely any effort let go of a
extended, loud gurgling fart. His hole opened easily and let go of a long,
soft piece of shit. The stench filled the room quickly.  Tommy crinkled his
nose up in disgust. He could hear Mark's shit splashing into the water.
Mark strained several times and finally announced he was done. He reached
tentatively for toilet paper.

"Let me do that," Tommy rushed to say. Mark had hoped that his friend would
offer. Mark stood up. Both boys looked into the toilet bowl. Mark had left
three long, fuzzy red brown turds and several smaller ones in the toilet.

"Now that's what I call shit," Mark said proudly. He bent over and pulled
his cheeks apart.  Whereas Tommy's brief defecation had left almost no
proof at his own asshole, Mark's had left ample evidence. Lumps of soft
shit covered the hole and banded his crack.  Tommy again crinkled his nose
in disgust but then wiped the mess from his friend. He had to use a lot of
paper to get Mark relatively clean. When he was done, he realized that his
own gut was ready for another try at emptying itself.

Tommy announced, "I gotta go again. For real." This time he was determined
to make up for seeming like a wimp in front of his friend. 'Anything you
can do, I can do better' sort of thing. He lifted the toilet seat and
instead of sitting down, climbed up backward on the rim, his back facing
Mark, and squatted. He strained and with a "poof" a deep brown button
forced his anus open and expanded into a huge, firm turd that grew to over
eight inches before it broke off and fell the short distance to the water.
More of the turd was growing from the distended hole. Mark was amazed at
its size. As the second and final piece grew from Tommy's asshole, Mark
touched it briefly. It left no Mark on his finger.

"Clean shit," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm done," Tommy said over his shoulder when the second piece had released
itself from his rectum. "Wipe me."

Again Mark went through the ritual of wiping his friends rear end. Again,
though, there was little to clean off.

When Tommy got off the toilet, he saw that he and his friend were in
similar states. Both boys' cocks were at half stand, firmed by the
forbidden toilet games they had just played.

Tommy spoke, "I told Cal that I'd call him and see if we wanted to get
together for something today. But before I do, I told you that there was
something else I wanted to do. Let's go to my room."

Mark had an idea what it was that Tommy had in mind. His cock gave a jerk
in anticipation as they went back to the bedroom. As they entered, Mark was
surprised at how strong the odor of piss in the room was. It might have
been disagreeable, but for now, Mark was too excited about what might
follow to feel the odor was anything but an invitation to enjoyment.


MARK'S DILEMMA Chapter Six: The Dream Inside

The fabric of a moment is composed of many threads: tastes, sounds,
memories, odors. The tapestry that was becoming Tommy's and Mark's lives
was spreading out before them in Tommy's room in a jumble of sodden bed
sheets, scattered dishes and the olid redolence of an early morning shared
bed wetting.

The stench of rancid urine assaulted Mark as he entered the room behind his
friend. The strength of the smell had not been apparent to the boys while
they were in it originally. The time away from the room had allowed them to
row unaccustomed to the odor. Tommy stopped just after passing the
threshold.

"Whew," Tommy said, "that's raunchy smelling. I'm gonna hafta clean this
up. Does your pee-pee always stink that bad?" The use of the puerile word
was unconscious.

"Me?" Mark protested. "Why me? Why not your 'pee-pee' that stinks?" He
emphasized the word in derision.

Tommy snickered at Mark, "Because, wise guy, I smell mine almost every day
after I come back to my room from breakfast." The boy was becoming more
comfortable with this shadow part of his life, at least more comfortable in
sharing some of the pain his enuresis brought to his life with Mark. "You'd
think I'd know what my own pee smells like."

Mark shrugged his shoulders in tacit agreement. "Yeah, I guess so. My piss
can smell pretty bad at times. Hey," he added, brightening up, "you should
smell how bad it stinks when I eat asparagus."

Tommy laughed and then told Mark to strip the bed sheets off while he
straightened the room of the breakfast dishes. Tommy piled the things onto
the tray and left the room.

Mark began his chore by stripping the covers off of the pillows. One of the
pillow cases had gotten wet, and the other had a few light brown streaks on
it. Mark remembered secretly wiping his fingers on it after his digital
intrusion into his friends asshole last night.

Once Mark had thrown the cases into a pile, he stripped the top sheet off
and looked at the damp bottom sheet on the bed. The spot from their early
morning urination was about four feet long and nearly three feet wide. It
had dried somewhat and in doing so, revealed a darker, smaller stain, the
reminiscence of many previous wet nights for Tommy. Mark pulled the lower
sheet up to his nose and smelled it. He knew that most of the smell came
from his piss, but some of it was Tommy's.  His prick stirred. He became
rapt in his inspection of the evidence of their enuresis, so much so that
he didn't notice his friend watching him from the doorway.

Mark took the sheet from his nose and stuck the dampest portion in his
mouth and sucked at it like a baby sucking at a tit. He closed his eyes and
revelled in the decadence, if decadence he understood, of his actions. The
sheet tasted of bitter decay and sodden nights and early morning shame. His
prick stirred more. He crammed more sheet into his mouth and sucked and
chewed on it, nearly gagging himself but not stopping. Saliva drooled down
his chin.

Tommy backed several feet away from the doorway so that he would be hidden
and then called from the hallway, "Hey, Mark are the sheets ready for the
washer?" He entered the room just as Mark jerked the sheet from his mouth
and flung it into the pile on the floor.

Mark answered, "yes," breathless from the excitement of what he had done
and what he thought was the close call of being discovered in his
perversion.

Tommy had a video tape in his hand. He gave absolutely no indication that
he had seen Mark sucking on his sodden sheet.

"Here, Mark," he said, offering the tape. "Why don't you watch this while I
get the laundry going?"

"What is it?" Mark asked. The tape was labelled 'BST.1.'

"It's a video tape I think you'll like," Tommy answered. "I got it from
Cal."

"What's 'BST.1' mean?"

"Watch it and then see if you can guess," Tommy said, laughing and
gathering the pile of sheets into his arms. The pile seemed almost as big
as him.

Mark went to the family room while Tommy did the laundry. He thought back
to the night before when the two of them had watched the porno tape. that
seemed so long ago.  He pulled the old tape from the VCR, inserted the new,
turned on the TV and started the machine. The screen fuzzed for a few
seconds, flickered and then there appeared the image of a boy, maybe
fifteen or sixteen, filmed from knee level upward. His face was indistinct
and almost off of the top of the screen. He appeared to be lying on a bed
and he was completely naked. The picture wasn't very clear, but it was
clear enough to show his pulling slowly on a hard, thick, pointed prick.

The image stayed on for ten seconds, faded off and was replaced by two
seconds of fuzz and then another picture.

The new picture was silent as the first one was but it was more distinct.
two boys were lying on their stomachs on their stomachs looking at
something. Both of them had dark hair. Both were fully clothed. The
youngest boy looked around eleven years old. His hair was deep brown,
straight and long. His bangs fell in his eyes. He seemed to be more
animated about what they were viewing, giggling while he spoke silent words
to the other boy. The other boy looked like he could have been a big
brother, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. His hair was nearly black,
full and wavy.

The younger kid pointed at something and smiled a broad, teeth exposing
smile. Mark was fascinated at what was unfolding on the screen. The older
boy turned a page. The camera pulled back to show what the kids were
looking at. It was a newspaper with photo images on it, images barely
discernible in the movie but obviously pictures of nude people seemingly in
pornographic poses.

The younger boy, Mark called him 'Jeremy' in his mind, pointed to the
picture again and leaned over to his brother, Josh. He said something which
brought immediate agreement from the older boy. The boys then roll onto
their backs. They are on a bed covered in a white sheet. The shot cuts to
Josh who momentarily holds his crotch through his blue jeans. He then
unsnaps them and pulls the zipper apart. His right hand slips beneath the
pants and a flash of white underwear. His left hand rests languidly on his
chest as he begins to rub slowly but firmly beneath the cloth.

Jump cut to Jeremy who is completing his roll onto his back. He pulls his
the zipper on his pants apart. His hand slips beneath the opening. He does
not seem to be wearing underpants. He holds his left arm at his head while
he rubs himself beneath his pants with even more fervor than his brother.
there is a revealing band of belly shown as he rubs.

Pull back to show both boys on the bed engaged in hidden masturbation. Josh
sits up, rolls over near Jeremy and starts to unbutton his shirt. Jeremy
pushes his hand away and Josh tries again.  Jeremy pushes the intruding
hand away again but unbuttons his shirt on his own with his left hand,
still rubbing himself intently. to the side, Josh pulls off his shirt, his
broadening back to the screen.  Jeremy finishes unbuttoning his shirt,
revealing his skinny chest. Josh leans over and pulls the shirt partially
off. Jeremy sits up and finishes the job. then, dangling his legs over the
edge of the bed, scrawny back to the camera, he flings the shirt away in a
theatrical gesture. Hew looks like a girl while doing so.

At this point in the film Tommy entered the room.

"Hot, isn't it?" he said to Mark. Mark couldn't do anything but nod in
stunned agreement. He was watching his fantasy world come to life on a
television. He couldn't believe that these were real kids he was viewing.

The camera cuts briefly to Jeremy on his back, his hand in the front of his
pants while Josh, still sitting, works to get his pants off. Jeremy rolls
to his belly, pulls his pants down over his round rump, sticks that round
ump in the air and, looking at his friend, wriggles it enticingly. The look
on Jeremy's face invites participation.

Jump cut to shot of Jeremy's ample buttocks wiggling in the air, viewpoint
from his head back: His crack opens to the camera's eye briefly, showing,
maybe, a shadow of brown and the briefest promise of a hole. His hand works
to pull the pants off in this position and then he rolls to his back to
show a limp, hairless little boy's penis.

Jump cut to full length shot of Jeremy on the bed on his back, pants at his
ankles: A dreamy look covers his face while his right hand pulls fervently
at his stiffy. The boy meat is over three inches hard, very pointed from
this angle, very intense looking. Jeremy finishes pulling and kicking his
pants off, jacking himself the whole time.

Jump cut to camera shot up and over the heads of both boys: Josh is similar
occupied with his penis but the viewer can't see it well. Jeremy finishes
kicking off his pants. The boys lie on the bed in the their socks
masturbating. They then rise to sitting to pull their socks off.

Cut to individual shot of Josh as he pulls his last sock off. His penis is
turgid but limp. Although it is not very long, only about three inches in
length, it obviously the prick of a boy in puberty. It has started to fill
out in thickness and gain big boy proportions. The circumcision scar is
faintly visible. He begins pulling on himself and then lies back on the
bed.

Cut to Jeremy from front, right side: He is attentively pulling on his
stiff, little penis with his left hand; his right hand is playing with his
balls.

Cut to Josh watching his brother: Josh smiles while pulling on his own
hardness. His cock is definitely a big boy's cock. It is hard, four inches
with blue-red crown.  The balls move in rhythm to the stroking hand.

Cut to long shot of both boys jerking off: Jeremy sits up. His lips move.

Cut to close up Josh's face while he responds. The silently mouthed words
are obviously part of a discussion of what the boys are going to do. Cut
back and forth between the boys to catch the gist of their conversation:
Jeremy agrees to do something if Josh will do it as well.

Jeremy pivots on his butt and leans close to his brother's pubis, his body
and his brother's forming a tee on the bed. Josh's penis is no longer hard.
It has softened during the discussion, but it is still firm. Jeremy up the
penis with two fingers and slips it into his mouth. The impression the
viewer is left with is that the boys have done this before. Jeremy sucks
avidly and the boy meat in his mouth hardens quickly with the moist
attention it is getting.

Mark sucked in a deep breath when he saw what the boys on the screen were
doing. He began pulling on his own hard meat. Tommy moved his friend's hand
off his boner.

"Wait till the end," he advised, "it gets better and I have plans for us."

Plans? Mark could barely contain himself, but he removed his hand from his
aching cock.

Cut to close-up of Jeremy's face from in front,: He moves his mouth up and
down the full length of his brother's hard-on, giving glimpses of the
purple mushroom shaped cockhead. A lock of hair brushes Jeremy's eyes.

Cut to closer shot of young boy mouth, lips wet and stretched around the
rampant cock from the side. The circumcision scar is clearly visible as are
the few, short dark hairs at the base of the boy's cock.

Cut to a shot of both boys from approximately three feet away. Josh takes
Jeremy's head in his hands and directs the pace of the sucking. His hips
begin to move in fuck rhythm. He holds Jeremy's head still while he pushes
his pubis up and down slowly. Josh quickens the pace and the depth of his
thrusting.

Cut to shot from above: Josh has a dreamy, far away look while he holds his
brother's head in place, fucking the younger boy's mouth. He moves the head
in a counter rhythm to his thrusts.  Josh grimaces and pushes upward.
Jeremy releases the cock from his mouth.  It is painfully erect looking.
From the video, it is not clear whether Josh has cum. He is smiling,
though, and rubs his brother's head lovingly for a moment.

Tommy put the video on pause. Josh was frozen in his smile; his hard pecker
was suspended in mid-bounce.

"How do like the tape?" he asked Mark.

"Wow," Mark wheezed out hoarsely. "I can't believe it. I mean, guys really
do this stuff. not just us, but other guys. This can't be your step-dad's.
Where'd you get it?"

Tommy giggled his high pitched, girlish laugh. "Yeah, sure it's my
wonderful step-daddy's," he said sarcastically. "Of course it isn't. It's
Cal's. He lent it tome. He has a bunch of boy sex tapes.  that's what 'BST'
stands for. He's even got a video of me doing stuff. Some of it by myself
and some with him. I don't have it here but maybe you can see it someday.
Whadda ya think of this one?"

Mark was vaguely bothered by the idea of Tommy having sex on tape. Was it
jealousy. The feeling passed quickly and then he answered Tommy's last
question by pointing to his upstanding dick. "That answer your question? I
wanna see that part again. Where J... I mean the big kid gets his dick
sucked." He almost gave away his secret name for the older boy. He didn't
want to do this because Josh and Jeremy were two real kids at school, best
friends of about whom Mark had fantasies. He was not about to expose his
soul for ridicule at this time.

Tommy answered, "We can rewind, but there's a lot more good stuff ahead."
At this, Tommy released Josh and Jeremy from suspended animation.

The boys are shot from the side of the bed. Jeremy rolls from his station
at his brother's side to lying parallel and opposite him, his legs dangling
over the side of the bed. Both boys are pulling on their dicks, Josh
languidly, Jeremy frantically. Jeremy's dick flops in his fast moving hand.
He lifts his head to look at his brother, points at the little penis in his
fist and says something that looks like "you have to do mine now." Josh
immediately swings around and takes his little brother's penis in his mouth
and sucks it eagerly.

Jump cut to a mid-range shot. Jeremy opens his legs to show the mouth
action better. In doing so he shows his ass crack, a dark shadow between
two chubby cheeks and thin thighs. He thrusts upward into his brother's
mouth energetically.

Cut to closeup of Josh with a tiny hard penis between his pursed lip:
Jeremy has balls the size of large peanuts. Josh's dark hair fills much of
the screen.

Cut to mid-distance closeup of both boys: Jeremy increases the rate of his
lunges into Josh's mouth. and holds his brother's head in both hands. A
fervent smile erupts on his face as he pushes harder, faster. He pushes
Josh's head down harder as Josh tries to pull away. The smile fades to a
grimace and then blossoms to a beaming, sun threatening smile again. It is
obvious that the little pecker is dancing in Josh's mouth. finally Jeremy
releases Josh's head, and Josh releases the elongated, softened penis. It
flops onto Jeremy's belly. Jeremy looks directly at the camera
(photographer?) with a look of deep satisfaction.

Jump cut to a closeup of Jeremy's face. He is sitting and mouthing words.
His right arm, though not visible on the screen, seems to be moving. He
obviously is jacking on his prick. His monologue ends in a big smile.

"Hey," Tommy said, "now comes the really good part. Watch carefully."

Cut to midrange shot. Jeremy's cock is steel hard and standing straight up
in his lap. He strokes it with thumb and one finger. Josh sits up and
responds to Jeremy's silent statements. Jeremy answers back by pointing at
his chest and mouthing quite obviously, "I get to go first this time."
Josh swings around and lies lengthwise on the bed on his back. His penis,
though at nearly full length, is flaccid. Jeremy moves into position
between Josh's legs. In doing so, his fiery erection, jutting straight out
from his belly, flashes into view for one second. Josh rolls to his stomach
as Jeremy straddles his legs.

Cut to closeup of Jeremy's impossibly hard cock jutting from his rounded,
bare pubis. The cock glistens with spit; it seems to have grown to four
inches beneath Jeremy's firm, ardent attention.  His hand travels the full
length of the cock in well practiced strokes, ending well beneath his
balls.  This view continues for ten seconds.

Jump cut to full distance shot of both boys on the bed from the side and
top. Jeremy straddles Josh's legs, and Josh has his legs spread. Jeremy has
his cock in his hand and wiggles close to his brothers up-turned rear end.
He repositioned him self briefly and then gets the little cockhead into
position within his brother's cheeks. The boys have fucked many times
before this filming so the cock slips easily into Josh's hole.

Mark gasped as the smaller boy's hard prick disappeared between the
recumbent brother's cheeks.  He grabbed for his own dick. Tommy brushed his
friend's hand away. Mark sighed.

Jump cut to a side view close-up of chubby cheeks moving rhythmically up
and down: Josh's legs are visible beneath Jeremy's lower torso.

Cut to near extreme close-up between the legs: Jeremy's prick is clearly
buried in Josh's asshole.  Jeremy's crack opens with each outward pull. His
hole is shadowed but visibly ringed. The camera pulls away slightly to show
more of the boys' torsos. Jeremy is thrusting in and upward. His balls are
crushed between his thighs and Josh's ass.

Cut to mid-distance shot from the side: both boys' bodies are shown from
head to knees. Jeremy wiggles as he thrust. He pushes, thrusts, fucks
avidly. His ribs are clearly visible. His chubby rump is contracted
tightly. Josh has his head buried in the pillow. Twenty seconds pass while
Jeremy pumps and pushes and then he arches his back in one sudden, violent
push and holds his position for five seconds. His back relaxes and his
penis plops out of Joshes asshole. Jeremy has lost his erection somewhere
in his brother's rectum.

Jeremy rolls off of his brother and languidly begins to pull on his limp
prick. Josh rolls to his back.  His prick is not limp. He begins to stroke
on himself as well. He reaches behind himself and gets a jar of cream. He
dips two fingers in and applies some to his erect cock.  Jeremy is flopping
his limp peter back and forth while watching.

"This is the part I love," Tommy whispered hoarsely. Mark pulled his
attention from the screen for a moment. Tommy was lying on the floor, his
own little boy meat so hard it looked like it had been poured in bronze. He
was rubbing it and had entered a stage of prolonged, multiple orgasms.

"Hey, if I can't jack off, how come you can?" Mark demanded.

"Because," Tommy gasped, "I can cum just about forever because I don't
sperm yet and you can't come that much. And smarty pants, this next part of
the video is what you're gonna do to me."

Cut to extreme close-up of Jeremy's face: He looks up from his supine
position with pouty lips.  He mouths something that could be a mild
protest.

Cut to middle range shot of both boys. Jeremy is on his back and is
smiling. Josh is on his knees.  He reaches behind him and gets a pillow.
Jeremy pulls his legs in the air and helps slide the pillow in place. In
doing so, his brown rimmed asshole is clearly visible to the camera's eye
for three seconds. Josh gets between Jeremy's upraised legs and then rubs a
gob of grease on the dirty hole.  then, taking his chubby hard-on between
his fingers, inserts the blunt head into Jeremy's hole. It goes in easily.
Jeremy sighs a deep sigh. He smiles. He pulls his legs almost completely
over his head.

Josh fucks his brother slowly, deeply.

Cut to extreme closeup of the conjunction of the boys.  Josh's prick slides
contentedly in Jeremy's asshole. His balls are pulled up tight. A few wisps
of pubic hair are seen in profile.

Cut back to mid-range shot to show both boys almost completely. Jeremy has
his arms around Josh's neck. He is looking down toward his asshole. He is
still smiling, though dreamily now. Josh starts pushing deeper and more
slowly. He drops his head down and begins kissing Jeremy.

Jeremy pulls his arms tight around his brother's neck. The boys shift
positions slightly so that Jeremy can relax his legs on Josh's rump. Josh
licks Jeremy's lips and then plunges his tongue into the eager mouth. He
begins rocking in a slow, steady rhythm while kissing.

Cut to extreme closeup of the boys' faces. their eyes are closed. Josh's
long, dark hair brushes Jeremy's face. Jeremy's eyelashes are long,
feminine. The older boy's mouth presses against Jeremy's mouth. They probe
inside with their tongues.

Pull back to show the boys embracing with their whole bodies. They have
forgotten that the camera exists. They rock to the tempo of a deeply felt
love. Jeremy lets his hands travel up and down his brother's back and then
to the skinny cheeks. Josh thrusts intently for thirty seconds and then...
The film ended with the two brothers still locked together, cock to anus,
still kissing, still deeply in love. Mark stared at the blank screen until
he felt Tommy's touch on his shoulder.  He turned to look at his friend.

"I'm ready if you are," Tommy said, smiling.

Mark's body was ready. It ached for release. His body was , but was he? If
they did what Tommy proposed, wouldn't that be the final step over the
edge, the final move into the world that beckoned to him and frightened him
at the same time.

"Yeah," Mark said hoarsely, "I'm ready."


MARK'S DILEMMA Chapter Seven: The Dream Revealed

Dreams can reveal, but the dreamer does not have to know that they are
real.

Mark had seen the video of the two boys jacking themselves and sucking and
fucking each other until they reached the reality of their love. He had
told his friend, Tommy, that he was ready to play the ultimate game shown
on the video. But was he? Was he ready to probe the depths of his passion,
to forge ahead into the deep, dark realms of boy sex that the tape had
unfolded for him.  Yes, in the darkness of his bedroom, in the safety of
the dream world that opens for young teenaged boys before the curtain of
sleep falls, he had thought about fucking Tommy many times.  He had even
thought of taking his little friend's penis in his own rectum.  But the
movie had unveiled to him that the fantasies he clung to late at night were
not his alone. Other boys wanted the pleasures brought by the poke, prod
and thrust of another male's penis brought.

Mark wanted to fuck and be fucked by Tommy, but he feared the implications
that acknowledging his desires carried with them.

Tommy, though, had no such qualms. He wasted no time in getting started
with what he had in mind. He rolled from his perch on the floor over to
where Mark sat. His penis jutted out in front of him like a truncated
blackboard poker. The cockhead, though small, was fiery pink and swollen.

"Let me fuck you, Mark," Tommy pleaded hoarsely. "I'm all horny for you."

"Why do you go first?" Mark demanded. "I'm horny, too, and you wouldn't let
me beat off."  Indeed, the boy was terribly horny, but he was more scared
of two things that having Tommy fuck him presented: the pain that might
accompany the copulation and the final capitulation to the hidden part of
his desires that the act signified. For his part, Tommy had a plan and did
not wish to vary from it. They were going to replay the latter part of the
video in his plan, and that was that.

"Well, smarty pants," Tommy argued, "I should go first because if you do,
you'll be all tired and cummed out when you're done, and you won't want to
let me do you. So there."

Mark answered, "But it'll hurt. Won't it?"

"You really liked it when I stuck my finger in your butt," Tommy responded.
"Look at my pee-pee pole. It's the same size as my finger." Here he put his
middle finger along side his boner for comparison. The pecker was just
about the same circumference as his middle finger, though it may have been
a half an inch longer. Mark noticed this discrepancy immediately.

"It's longer than your finger," he said, pouting like the younger boy in
the movie.

Tommy breathed an exasperated sigh. "Even if it is longer, it's how thick
it is that makes it hurt.  Look, butthead, I take Cal's cock up me all the
time and it's huge. I don't act all scared of it. Come on. Let me fuck
you."

The last words were voiced as a plea. Tommy had not intended to admit that
he and Cal were so intimate, not so soon at least. But the admission
slipped out and he knew he'd have to live with it.

"Okay," Mark said, "but if I tell you to stop, you'll have to pull it out.
Okay?"

Tommy agreed but knew that he might not be able to comply once he was
inside his friend. He positioned Mark on his stomach and slipped a pillow
beneath the boy's belly to raise his butt up slightly. He crawled between
Mark's legs and spit on the pecker that waved in front of him.

"Pull your ass apart," he said.

Mark looked back at Tommy over his shoulder. "Don't forget, you'll stop if
I tell you to." Tommy grunted something that could have been a "yes," so
Mark reached his arms around to his chubby ass cheeks and pulled them
apart. Although he had wiped Mark's ass while they were in the toilet
together, he hadn't done a thorough job. The little, red rimmed eye was
streaked with brown stripes. Tommy poked the swollen glans at the exposed
hole. He could feel the sphincter tighten momentarily and then loosen
almost immediately. He pushed forward once and his entire prick slid into
Mark's rectum.

Mark felt the pressure at his asshole. He tightened unintentionally but
then the pressure and the excitement made him relax. The penis that slid
into him was the size of a finger, and it didn't feel that much different
in objective reality, but for Mark, it was a huge cock that pushed him into
another world. The entry brought a flash of pain that immediately subsided
into pleasure. He could feel the prick poking at his nubbin inside as it
scraped his sphincter in its travels. Mark knew that it was Tommy who was
pushing his hard, little pecker in and out, who was fucking him with
abandon. He knew it, but he also imagined that it was another person who
was fucking him. Mark fancied that it was Cal, or Cal's friend, Bill, who
was forcing a bigger, more substantial cock into him.

Mark didn't know if he could hold out for very long. Even if he didn't
touch himself, the prodding his prostate was taking might be enough to make
him cum spontaneously. He didn't have to worry, however, as the excitement
for Tommy of finally living the dream of fucking his best friend (in
reality, his only young friend) brought the girlish boy to his orgasm.  A
shiver arose in Tommy that flared into a fire. The flame traveled from its
origin deep in his abdomen and seared its way to the tiny, contracted
testicles and then roared up the length of the distended prick. The fire
spewed out dry into dark recesses of Mark's intestine.

Tommy fucked his cock into Mark while he spasming and continued several
pushes past the final contraction of his poker. He had hoped to bring
himself to the next plateau of multiple orgasms, but he had tired himself
out when he had done so while watching the video..  He was not
disappointed, though, and collapsed in a pleasurable heap on Mark's back.
His cocklet shrivelled quickly and slipped out of Mark's tight asshole with
an audible 'plop.'  Mark punctuated the prick's abandonment with a bubbly
fart that filled the room with fetid memories of the pizza he had eaten the
night before.

"That's awful," Tommy complained while laughing. "You ready for me now?"

Mark was more than ready to take his part in the fun.

"The guy in the movie used grease, Mark," Tommy said. "But we don't have
any. Run to the kitchen and get the tub of margarine."

Mark went to the kitchen as he was told. Tommy was pulling on his penis
when Mark returned with the tub of soft margarine.

"Don't you ever stop that?" Mark asked, half joking and half serious.

"Nope," Tommy answered. "And my pipi is glad I don't. I'll bet you're glad,
too."

Tommy lay on the floor as the boy in the video whom Mark called Jeremy had
done. He raised his legs in the air and slipped a pillow from the couch
underneath his elevated ass.

Tommy took Mark's hand, placed it at his sphincter and said, "Put a lot of
the margarine on my rear door and then goob it all over your dickie."

"How come you didn't put none of this on me?" Mark asked.

Tommy said, "Because mine is just a little finger dick and yours is bigger
than mine. Plus, Cal tells me that my asshole is really tight if it isn't
loosened up."

"Does he loosen it for you?"

Tommy smiled dreamily. "With his tongue, first. Then he uses something
called 'Lube.' Do you want to do it that way?"

Mark removed the lid from the tub and scooped three fingers-full of the
margarine into his right hand. He then began rubbing it on Tommy's
sparkling clean rectal opening.  The muscle was very tight but he could
feel the hole slowly relax as he applied the goo to it.

"I want to taste it like I like my popcorn," Mark said while he rubbed and
prodded with his greasy fingers, "buttered."

With the final word Mark got two fingers into the hole. Tommy's prick
hardened immediately.  Mark pulled his fingers from the hole, licked the
near liquid margarine from them and draped Tommy's legs over his shoulders.
He bent over and began licking at the loosened asshole. The sphincter was
now loose enough to allow Mark's tongue about an inch inside.  It tasted
almost entirely of margarine, but Mark could pick up the faintest acrid
redolence of shit.

After a minute of feasting, Mark withdrew his tongue and looked down at his
belly. His boner was standing up along his belly, dripping pre-cum at the
tip. He took another gob of grease and applied it to the hard-on. Tommy was
moaning softly on the floor, his legs now pulled over his head.

"Now, Mark. Fuck me now. Please fuck me."

Mark didn't need any more encouragement. He took his four inch hardness in
his right hand, aligned it with his buddy's waiting asshole and pushed it
in. Tommy shuddered as his rectum opened and Mark shivered as the muscle
grasped at the shaft of his cock. Of all of the feelings he had experienced
this weekend, Mark had never felt anything like the grip of Tommy's shit
hole. It was so much better than jacking off, thought Mark, that he
wondered if he'd ever want to beat his meat again. (Of course, he added to
that thought, I'll jack off until I'm an old man.)

Mark wanted to push his prick all the way home to its base, but also
enjoyed the feeling he got from having Tommy's asshole grip it right under
the cockhead. In fact, Tommy seemed to be contracting and relaxing the
grip.

"Do you like that?" Tommy asked. "Cal taught me how to do that."

Mark didn't bother to answer. He was too intent on what he was doing to
respond. He kept his penis still for another minute and then jammed it all
the way in till it was seated at its base.  Tommy jumped and yelled at the
violence of the thrust.

"Don't break me," he pleaded. "It feels great but don't be rough the whole
time."

"Oh yeah," snarled Mark. "I'll fuck your little shit ass any way I want."
He began stabbing fiercely but could only keep the pace up for about ten
pushes. He slowed down in order to enjoy the feeling of Tommy squeezing him
again.

Tommy whispered, "You can fuck me hard if you want, but kiss me please.
Kiss me like the boy in the video."

Mark shoved in again and leaned over to kiss his little friend on the lips.
He kept his abdomen moving expertly as he sucked at Tommy's pouty lips.
Then as he thrust his prick in to its base, he jammed his tongue deep into
Tommy's mouth. He could feel his friend begin to wriggle and moan as he
frenched him.

The gripping at his cock became stronger. Mark knew what was happening to
Tommy, knew that the older boy was beginning to have an orgasm. Mark wanted
his pleasure to last for a long time, but the clutching that Tommy's
asshole was making at his boner sent him soaring into his own orgasm. Mark
could feel the semen building along the tubes of his penis and erupt into a
fiery explosion into the dark recesses of Tommy's intestine. Tommy was
rocking and crying while Mark continued to crush his spewing, spasming cock
into the abused hole.

Finally the jism stopped splattering into Tommy and Mark collapsed,
exhausted onto his friend's belly.  After catching his breath, Mark
realized that Tommy was crying. He pushed himself up onto his arms.

"Are you okay, Tommy?" Mark asked. "Did I hurt you. I'm sorry. Please don't
be hurt."

Tommy tried to catch a breath between sobs. "I'm sorry, Mark. You didn't
hurt me. I'm just being an asshole. You felt so good that I couldn't help
it. I love you." This last comment was barely audible, but Mark heard it.
He wasn't sure just how to respond. Finally he decided to say what he
thought, even if it hurt him to say it.

"I love you, too, Tommy."

Mark rolled to his side in order to take his weight off of the other boy
but kept his embrace intact.  He petted his friend's face with one hand.
Tommy's eyes were closed. Mark leaned his face closer and began gently
caressing it with his lips.

"Hmmm," Tommy sighed. "That feels good." He was shifting around while
talking. " Put your hand at my rear door."

Mark let his free hand slip behind Tommy's back and down to the little
boy's asshole.  Tommy's hand was already there.

Tommy took Marks hand into his own and guided it to the hole. "Can you feel
that?" he asked.  He had brought Mark's hand in contact with the hole and
with something gooey and sticky. Mark could feel the sphincter puckering as
Tommy forced out some of the viscid cream from inside.  Tommy took a swipe
of it and brought his hands in front of their faces. His finger tips were
coated with frothy tan cream.

"Cal likes to lick it out after making a deposit in me," Tommy said, "but I
won't ask you to do that. Let me see your fingers."

Mark pulled his hand from behind Tommy's back to display his cream covered
fingers. The cum on them was a darker tan and there were darker streaks of
brown in the ooze. Tommy grabbed the proffered hand and licked the fingers
clean.

"Tastes better than right from the pipe this way, you know." Not to be out
done, Mark took his buddy's hand and licked it clean of the sticky strands
of semen. It did taste good.

"Okay, asshole," Mark said, "you win. Roll over and let me have more."
Tommy rolled onto his belly, pulled his knees under his chest and then
pulled his cheeks apart.  Mark slid between his legs and looked closely at
Tommy's exposed hole.  It was red from the fucking he had given it, and it
glistened with the jism that Tommy had squeezed out. Mark licked the
surface cum off and then jabbed his tongue at the abused orifice.

Mark's tongue poked easily into Tommy's loosened asshole. The sperm laden
semen he had deposited coated the inside of the rectal opening and
slithered down from higher up the little boy's colon. Mark had tasted his
own semen many times after forbidden jack-off sessions at home, but the
spunk from inside of Tommy's rectum tasted much different. It had a strong,
bitter quality to it, reminiscent of farts and times spent in the bathroom
evacuating his bowels. It was also salty and something in it gave the slime
a slight taste of sweetness. Mark wasn't thinking about what he was doing.
Had he done so, he might have rejected the prospect that he was actually
eating his jism out of his best friend's ass. Not thinking, though, he
loved what he was doing.

"Hmm, tastes good," he murmured with a mouth full of asshole. "So Cal does
this with you, too?"

Tommy was hard again, of course, and gave bare consideration to what Mark
said. "Yeah, he loves to eat me out after he fucks me. I love the way his
cum tastes from my hole. Cal will scoop...Oh, shit! Cal. I forgot," Tommy
yelped, jerking up from the bed. "I was supposed tom call him."

Tommy jumped from the bed and scampered out of the room.

"Don't do anything I would do," he warned.

Mark rolled onto his back and laughed. He didn't have the energy to do much
else.

Several minutes later Tommy returned to the room.

"I'm glad I remembered to call. He had just about given up on us. I told
him that we were busy.  He understood."

Mark's freckles reddened at the thought hat a man he didn't know might
possibly have figured out what he and his fuck buddy had done.

Tommy went on, noticing Mark's embarrassment but choosing not to comment on
it, "He's gonna pick us up here in twenty minutes. Then we're going to
Great America! I hope you don't mind, but I told him that his friend Bill
could come along with us."

"Nah, I guess its okay if his friend comes. I didn't bring any money for
Great America, though, " Mark replied.

"Don't worry," Tommy said, "Cal's got passes for all of us. I think you're
gonna like Bill, too."

Mark blushed again but shrugged his shoulders like he didn't care.

The boys dressed quickly and scanned the room for any tell tale evidence of
their play together with the thoroughness typical of boys their age. There
wasn't anything to see, but the room had a strong, close smell that a
person walking into the room might easily have identified. Tommy rewound
the video tape while they watched cartoons waiting for Cal to arrive.

Twenty-five minutes after Tommy had spoken to his friend, the door bell of
the house rang.  Tommy and Mark jumped from the couch in the rumpus room
and raced to the door. Mark got there first but waited for Tommy before
doing anything. Suddenly he was scared to meet Cal, the man who had
captured Tommy's heart and body. Mark was sure that anyone looking at them
could tell what had gone on that day and the night before. Before he could
deal with his fears, though, Tommy jerked the door open.

Standing at the door was a man of average height and build. He had short
hair that had a remembrance of being red at one time. What was most obvious
about him to Mark, though, was the smile he wore. The man was thoroughly
and openly pleased to see Tommy.  Tommy must have felt the same way as well
because without missing a beat, he propelled himself at the man and leaped
on him, wrapping his legs around the man's hips. He then planted a huge,
wet kiss on the man's lips. Immediately his tongue drove into the man's
mouth.

Cal let Tommy kiss him for about ten seconds and then pulled away. "I'm
glad to see you, too," he joked. In the three years or so he had known
Tommy, Cal had never gotten used to the passion that the boy evidenced when
they first met. It was obvious to three of the people there that the
fourth, Tommy, loved the man he clung to. It was less obvious but no less
true that the man loved him in return.

Tommy's passion embarrassed Mark. He turned away from the door and started
to walk back into the house.

"Can we come in?" Cal asked.

"Tommy hit Cal on the arm. "Sure 'nough, asshole," he said. Both men
entered the house. Tommy was till attached to Cal. "Don't you think you
should get down?" Cal whispered to Tommy.

Tommy shook his head and laid his head on the man's shoulder. "I missed you
Cal. I haven't seen you for two weeks."

Cal then introduced himself and Bill to Mark. Bill was a quiet man, and
Mark sensed a reluctance on his part to be there. Mark couldn't have been
farther off the Mark. Bill was glad he was there; he was just shy about it,
about as shy as Mark felt at that time.

Cal tried to explain their plans for the day while still holding onto his
young lover, but it was hard for him because Tommy kept trying to french
him while he spoke.

"Mmph, mwe cmm go," Cal mumbled through the lips pressed to his. Finally he
gave up trying to speak, pulled away from Tommy for the briefest moment and
asked Bill to continue. He then gave himself over to his boy lover's
passion. Mark could see the man's tongue make its first foray into the
boy's mouth. He was getting hard in spite of the revulsion he felt, and his
own penis was beginning to dribble at the sight of Tommy's ardor.

Bill explained that they would be taking his van to "Great America." The
amusement park was a forty-five minute drive from the boy's house. If they
wanted to have a full day of it, the man explained in a soft tenor voice
that vaguely disturbed Mark, they would have to leave soon.

"That is," Bill finished with a laugh, "if the two love birds can find the
time to get going.  "Disgusting, isn't it?"  Bill was joking. He found the
love that Cal and Tommy shared to be heart warming.

"Yeah, it is," Mark said, not joking. Bill could hear the underlying
jealousy in the boy's voice and felt sorry for him.

"Nah," Bill went on, "it's really neat how they love each other. I've had
to listen to Cal mooning over the kid for three years. But they really love
each other, and it seems to be something that they both need and that works
for them."

"I guess so," Mark commented unconvincingly.

The four went to Bill's van, Tommy still attached to Cal like a koala baby
clinging to its mother.  Cal tried to convince the Tommy to sit in the back
seat with Mark, but Tommy refused.

"I want to sit there with you," Tommy protested loudly. Then he whispered
into Cal's ear, "There's stuff I want to do to you. And I want Mark to be
with Bill as much as possible."

Cal knew better than to argue with Tommy when the boy had been hatching
plans, so they left for Great America with Bill and Mark in the front of
the van and Cal and Tommy seated on the bench seat in the back. Mark
watched the scenery slide by from the side window, looking sulkily out of
it while the van cruised the freeways to their destination. Soon he heard
Cal complaining softly to Tommy.

"No," the man whispered hoarsely. "Stop that. Not now!"

Mark glanced back. Tommy was unzipping Cal's pants. Cal was trying to
resist. Unsuccessfully.


 "Hey you guys," Bill said without taking his eyes off the road, "if you're
gonna play, go into the back of the van. Okay?" He gave Mark a knowing look
and unintentional wink.


Tommy scrambled from his spot on the floor of the van to the rear. Mark
noticed for the first time that it wasn't actually carpeted. Tommy left
indentations as he crawled to the back. The floor of the rear of the van
had been padded with dense foam and covered in an easily washable material.

Cal undid his seat belt and swung around from his seat to join Tommy in the
back. Mark wanted to look away but his eyes were rivetted to the man's hard
cock. mark had seen men's penises before, his father's and other men's at
the health club. But he had never seen one hard. Despite Cal's discomfort,
after all the kissing and fondling Tommy had given him, his organ could be
nothing but distressingly, painfully hard.

Mark was amazed that the human penis could grow so large. In fact, Cal was
not that big, only an average six inches, but to Mark, whose eye was
unaccustomed to such sights, the six inches looked huge. He pulled his head
back around to stare sullenly out the front window. He tried but couldn't
ignore the slurping sounds coming from the rear of the van. Nor could he
ignore the sound of a zipper being pulled down and the accompanying
scuffling of a small boy repositioning himself. The slurping doubled. Soft
moaning grew. Five miles later, the baritone moans, muffled by a tiny
hardon, increased. The van filled with the bitter smell of clorox.

Mark recognized the smell. His bedroom smelled of it almost nightly. But it
was stronger, more intense than he had ever sensed it before coming as it
did from someone else. He couldn't help but turn his head back to glance at
what was going on. Tommy had just removed the still hard cock from between
his lips. It was squirting its last two wads of cum just as Mark looked and
just as Tommy withdrew it. Cum strands spider webbed between the boy's
lips.  Tommy's shorts and underpants were tossed carelessly to the side.
Cal had all but swallowed the boy's sex: the tiny cock and balls were
crammed entirely into the man's mouth. Tommy was unaware of his audience
though he would have been proud of being seen in the throes of an intense,
dry orgasm. Mark watched as the two in the back finished up and then he
pulled his head back around to the front.

"Sorry about that," Cal panted. "I guess that was pretty rude."

"No way, Cal," Bill answered. "We all know what you and Tommy like. More
power to you."  Mark grunted something that sounded like approval but which
Bill alone recognized for jealousy He glanced at the boy on his right. His
head was turned to look out the side window but he made no attempt to hide,
if he realized it showed or even knew it was there, the erection that poked
the cloth of his Levi's up in his lap.

The rest of the day improved for Mark. Although he felt that Cal
monopolized the time with his best buddy (in fact, it was Tommy who was
monopolizing Cal), Mark enjoyed the rides and the food the time the four of
them spent together. He did get to run around with Tommy and when the
littler boy was glommed onto his lover, Mark was able to get to know Bill
better. Bill, for his part, took his time in getting acquainted with the
boy. By late afternoon, Mark genuinely felt that Bill was a friend in whom
he could confide. After all, they had gone over "The Edge" side by side
together (four times!) Mark realized how comfortable the man made him feel
when after the metal car of the ride finally came to its stop after the
first time he and Bill rode it (Tommy refused,) and he found that he was
gripping the man's hand tightly in his own.

It was late afternoon and the spring day was edging toward twilight. Cal
and Tommy had gone off for a walk together and Mark and Bill sat at a table
sipping soft drinks.  They watched silently as the two friends wandered
away from them.

"They're quite a couple, aren't they?" Bill asked probingly.

"I guess so," Mark answered, no longer sure how he felt. He wasn't pissed
off at his friend any longer for ignoring him so much. The depth and
intensity of the love that Tommy and Cal shared rather pleased him. But he
couldn't help but...

"Feel left out, don't you?" Bill virtually plucked the words from Mark's
mind.

"Huh?"

"You feel a little bit left out when Cal and Tommy are together? Right?"

Mark though for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I
guess so. Tommy's my best friend and, well...I don't know."

"Bill touched the top of Mark's hand which lay on the table.

"We both know what Cal and Tommy have together," Bill went on. "Tommy also
has told us how much he likes you. Maybe even loves you, Mark." Mark
squinched up his nose at the word.  Bill continued, "You see Cal and I are
really good friends, too, and I feel left out when the three of us are
together. I guess that's one reason I was glad you were here. You kept me
from feeling like a third wheel."

Mark laughed at the analogy which he had never heard before.

"I guess I was jealous," Mark said and having said it, felt the envy slide
away. "But I've had fun today, too."

The group stayed at the amusement park for another hour and then walked
back in the van to return home.

Cal spoke up as they were opening the doors. "Hey, Bill, why don't you let
me drive back. You drove here and it's only fair that I share the driving."
Tommy giggled.

"Bill sensed that the two of them were hatching one of Tommy's famous
plots, but the idea of driving the forty-five minutes back to Tommy's house
didn't excite him.

"Sounds okay by me," Bill answered. "Just don't break my van. Okay?"

Tommy climbed up into the front passenger seat as Cal got into the driver's
seat.

"Well," Bill said with mock hurt feelings, "I guess we have to sit in the
back." He was glad for the opportunity to be next to Mark for a little bit
longer. Mark felt similar feelings. Tommy locked his door and slid into the
small seat right next to the driver and put on his seat belt. Cal pulled
out of the parking lot. Everybody was tired, but the two boys felt the
fatigue the most. Tommy was asleep soon, breathing heavily and snoring
softly, his head against Cal's shoulder.

"They are sweet together," Mark said, surprised to hear the gentleness that
wrapped his words.  He lay against Bill, hoping that the man would accept
the nearness. Of course, he had nothing to worry about. He began to drift
into dreaminess, listening to Bill breathe and feeling the rise and fall of
the man's torso with his breathing. After a few minutes of dozing like
this, mark awakened fully. With his eyes still closed, he let his hand
steal to Bill's lap.  There was a small lump under the cotton of the man's
pants. The lump jumped at the boy's touch and began to grow immediately.

"You don't have to, you know," the man whispered into Mark's ear.

Mark didn't answer but let his fingers speak for him. He rubbed the
firmness between his fingers, getting it harder with each stroke. He was
sure that what he grasped and squeezed in Bill's pants was bigger, even,
than what he had seen on Cal.

"Can we go in back?" Mark asked.

"If you really want to."

Mark unsnapped his seat belt and swung around to the back of the van. The
floor was very comfortable.  He was already pulling his jeans off as Bill
joined him.

"Let me do that," Bill said. Mark let the man strip his pants off and then
arched his back to let him pull his underpants off as well. His boner
sprang up when released from its entrapment. He tugged impatiently at Bills
pants and was able to pull them and his shorts to the man's knees. His
estimation of the cock he saw had been accurate. It was bigger, bigger by
an inch at least, than Cal's. And it was hard and drooling. He took the
organ in his hand and bent over to kiss its tip.

"Does this mean," Mark said to the eye of the cock but loud enough for Bill
alone to hear, "that we're special friends? Like Tommy and Cal?"

Bill answered by slurping the boy's hard, fiery four inches into his mouth.

"For as long as you want, babe," the man answered. "For as long as you
want."

Had Mark spent the time to think back to the start of this momentous,
spring weekend with his friend Tommy, he might have remembered some of the
concerns that worried him at that time.  What type of person was he growing
into? Was his passion for sex over taking his life? Did he really love
Tommy? Was he becoming a .... No, Mark wouldn't have been able to say that
word.  Not about himself. Nor even give voice to those concerns. Mark faced
several dilemmas at the start of the weekend. Now, though, as he soared in
orgasmic ecstasy, squirting wad after wad of sperm laden semen into Bill's
mouth, slurping and swallowing the sweet bitter ejaculate of that man
himself, he seemed to face only one dilemma. How was he, Mark Nelson, going
to be able to give this man he was sucking, everything he wanted give?
Would he be able to show Bill the depth of the love that was building?
Would he be able to give Bill the depths of his souls as well as the depths
of his asshole?

Somehow Mark felt, as his rear end began to itch mildly, no Mark knew, that
he would be able to solve this dilemma. Mark's dilemma.

The End (Or Is It?)

                       -----= END =-----