The first thing you need to know... well, actually I suppose the very FIRST thing you should know is that this story is about sex and I'd just turned fourteen when I engaged in it. So not only was it probably illegal for me to do it, it also might be illegal for you to read about it. It all depends on where you're living right now. But then it also might be illegal for you to be at this site at all and I'm guessing that by now you've probably figured out what these stories are usually about, and... well, what can I say? This is another one of those stories.
Oh Oh was my nickname. Jantje gave it to me because he thought my real name, which is Desmond, sounded dorky. And I'd always thought that Desmond was a fairly dull-sounding name myself. I wanted to go by my middle name (Lee), but since there was already another Lee in my class, my second grade teacher said “we” would stick with Desmond.
How Jantje came up with Oh Oh is another story though. But if you've guessed that it involved a goof on my part, you're right, and for awhile I couldn't imagine a bigger one.
I'd just turned fourteen and to be honest, I didn't know very much about sex. I knew about jerking off, but that's about it. And even though I really liked doing it, I kept thinking that it could be better. The biggest problem was, I couldn't make it last long enough.
But I was going to be home alone for almost four days. One of my step-father's aunts had died, only I didn't know her. I didn't care too much for any of my step-father's in-laws and it didn't seem that any of them were too high on me either... but that's beside the point. Because the point was, I could take all the time I wanted. I was thinking in terms of about an hour, slowly building and building until I'd be squirming in out-of-this-world bliss... so I decided to try warm olive oil.
So after putting up the cows (we lived on a small farm in north Florida), I walked into the kitchen, hurriedly got out of my clothes, poured some olive oil into a sauce pan and sat it on the stove. I guessed a few minutes between medium and high would work just fine. It was going to be awesome, I could barely wait!
Which should have been a warning that I wasn't likely to be bathed in sensuality for all that long in spite of my intentions, but I was still expecting it to last longer than it did.
Fact: Warm oil, good. Hot oil, not good. I'd just cooked my weiner! And my balls didn't feel too good either... and there was an oily stain on the seat cushion of one of our kitchen chairs and a larger stain on the floor... but I'd worry about that later!
Solarcaine probably would have been an erotic experience as well, because it certainly was soothing – after awhile – but I was pretty well-done by then. Or at least medium-rare. And not only did it hurt to touch it too much that night, it still felt that way the next morning, although at least it didn't appear to be blistered, so I guessed it would be all right in a day or so. Having to go all day without doing it even once was a downer, but if I were to go most of the day wearing nothing but my jock strap, maybe the novelty of the situation would build until I'd just squirt in my pouch.
I would've gone completely naked, but the problem with that idea was that it wasn't all that unusual. I'd never been caught, but there'd been some close calls. Like once when I decided to jerk off in the bush next to our mail box and the mailman came earlier than expected. If he'd looked back... I mean, he was so close, I could hear him breathing! And another time, I rode my bike along a path in the woods for almost a mile naked. I was trying to jerk off while coasting down a little hill, but that didn't work too good either, because I fell off my bike. Almost knocked my breath out. But fortunately, I landed on my side, so once I figured out I was okay beyond scrapping some skin off, I got down to business. And it was one of my better ones, but once I caught my breath, I quickly got my clothes back on. For some reason, once finished, I always wanted to get dressed as fast as I could.
That turned out to be another close call though, because just as I was getting back on my bike, who did I see walking down the path but Mr. Jorgenson! I was on his property. He knew me, so he didn't mind me being on his property, BUT...
I'm not too sure how he would have reacted if he'd happened along a minute or so earlier. Probably not so good.
But at any rate... well, basically I was trying to establish that being naked out in the open wasn't all that unusual, but the idea of wearing a jock strap and nothing else really appealed to me. I'd milk the cows and slop the pigs and then take a look at our garden. There was a lot of hoeing and weeding that had to be done by the time they got back – or else – so I guessed I'd get as much out of it as I could.
And there was another reason for wearing my jock: I had a rag soaked with A&D Ointment inside the pouch. You know what the A&D was for, but aside from that, it felt good. So potentially it could have worked out even better than the olive oil was supposed to have worked.
So some background information now. One, my mom had loose morals, which explains how I was conceived when she was fifteen. Two, fourteen years later, she still had loose morals, but for the past two years she'd been married to an asshole named James. He and I didn't get along. So three, I was thinking about leaving. Except four, I had no idea where I'd go. Although James had often enough made it clear that I could leave any old time I wanted to. Although five, until then, I'd do what he told me to do. Or else.
Point six doesn't have to be brought up at this point, but I guess I might as well, although first I'd like to mention that the only reason I was going to a “Christian” academy at all was because James was a racist. It wasn't for religious reasons.
But while I'm at it, there's something else I'd like to mention. Our gym teacher was probably a pervert. We wore “school issued” gym shorts and jock straps. Short gym shorts and old style jock straps, the ones that don't cover your ass. And of course we always had to shower afterwards and he always kept an eye on us while we were doing it.
Oh, don't worry, because as far as I know, Mr. Tate never tried anything and if I'm going to be honest, then I have to admit that I wouldn't mind if in my next reincarnation I'm in a world like ancient Greece where boys did their gym work in the nude, BUT...
That finally brings up point number six, which is that I didn't mind seeing naked boys when I was fourteen, either. Or at any other time that I can think of. I was bothered by Mr. Tate, but there were several boys I didn't mind seeing at all.
So I guess I should also add that it probably was a good thing that Mr. Tate was always nearby, because his presence seemed to keep things pretty much under control.
Although seven, if you had asked me back then if I was gay, I would have insisted that I was no such thing. I'd liked imagining running around naked with some of my classmates from at least as far back as the third grade, I liked imagining wrestling in the nude, doing all sorts of things, but I had no idea what gays did. At fourteen I still held the stereotypical view of gays - that you could tell by the way they acted, or the way they talked, or that they owned poodles – but when it came to sex, I didn't know. I did know that I shouldn't let on about how I liked seeing some boys naked – boys that usually looked a lot like me – but I didn't think that made me gay, it only meant that I'd probably end up being a bachelor for the rest of my life. I jerked off with visions of naked boys dancing in my head, but I didn't act gay, so...
I wasn't. Simple. Because I really didn't have a clue. My most feverish fantasy right then was being forced to wrestle Wayne nude. Both of us. No holds barred. Or possibly sleeping in the same bed in our underwear, or... in our jock straps and maybe one or both of us would turn over in our sleep... except I wouldn't be asleep... but we were both boys, right?
And that's about as far as my fantasies went.
Well, okay, I'd heard of blow jobs and I'd heard of being sucked off, but 7-B, I thought these acts were two different things, and 7-C, I supposed if it were Wayne, I might, but only as the ultimate blood brother ceremony. It would be a gawd awful thing, but if Wayne was willing, I would, too. Because after all, that would mean that 7-D, he wasn't interested in girls any more.
Oh, and FINALLY, point eight was that, in all probability, Wayne hardly knew I existed.
But I could always dream. So after a cup of coffee, I pulled on some rubber boots that came up to my knees, tried to get a good look at my ass, shrugged, shoved my Florida Gator ball cap on sideways and out I went. It felt nice. Freedom! Too bad they had to come back, but I had chores. Five cows to milk. Then carry the buckets inside. Pigs to slop. (We had four.) Then I was about to head off to the garden when I thought I heard something up in the loft. Now that will make your hair stand up on end!
But it was probably a bird or something. It almost had to be. Shit! I was acting like I was afraid to be by myself. So I pulled my boots off, grabbed a hoe and off I went. I was almost cheerful.
I worked for an hour or so, then decided it was time for a break. In fact, because it was getting hot, I guessed I'd most likely be cooling out until possibly that evening. But somehow, as I was walking past the barn, I felt a little uneasy, and that's probably why I decided to pull some shorts on once back in the house. Soccer-style shorts. So I was sitting in the kitchen drinking Kool Aid and looking out the window towards the barn when I saw him sneaking out. Sort of sneaking, because while he was cautiously looking towards the house, he didn't seem to be in a hurry. It was almost as though he was trying to make his mind up about something. He looked to be about my age – or at least he was about the same size, so that meant he could have been twelve or thirteen because I was small for my age – but I was sure I'd never seen him before. If I had, I would've remembered. Cute, as in, “OMG!” Slender – (skinny?) - with dark brown hair – a bit unruly... and his eyes! Soulful and mysterious... and a cute nose and a nice mouth... I mean, he was beautiful! And for some reason he'd also been up in our barn.
And that's when it hit me: he was a runaway! So he was all alone, and for three more days, so was I. He was an angel sent from heaven! Or possibly from somewhere else, but I had to take a chance, I just HAD to!
Only I wasn't sure how I was supposed to approach him. I didn't want to scare him away, but I also didn't want to act like I was tongue-tied and start blushing - no, I wanted to be friendly but cool. I was trying not to get my hopes up, but then I would have gladly settled for just talking to him awhile... and I could offer him something to eat... and maybe if he needs to wash his clothes and clean up some, that would be okay... so I might get to see him and I might not, but at least there's a CHANCE... and I don't know, but he might even want to sleep in a bed for a change, but...
But then something else occurred to me. That noise I'd heard almost had to be him, and... Maybe he saw me milking the cows in my jock... God! He's probably laughing his ass off right now!
So there I was, wanting to go out and stop him – I can't let him get away, I'll hate myself for at least a year! - but at the same time, I was almost afraid to show my face.
So there's really no telling how that would have worked out if it had been left up to me to take the initiative, but he walked a few steps, then he paused, shrugged slightly and started towards our house. He seemed to be fairly purposeful all at once and my poor little heart started pounding. He was going to knock on our back screen door! YES! (Maybe.) (I was still thinking about what he'd probably seen.)
As he drew closer, I could tell that actually he was smaller than I was. Turned out he was about 4'-10'' and weighed 82 pounds. (I was right at five feet even and weighed 90 as I recall.) But at any rate, he hardly looked dangerous. He was a bit dirty and it looked like he'd been living in those clothes he had on for at least a week. Jeans, with a small hole in one knee and a dirty Chicago White Sox tee-shirt.
And as he started up the back steps, I knew he could see through the screen door, so trying my best to act cool – and friendly - I got up, went to the door and said, “Hey, what's up?”
He smiled crookedly and started, “Um, I thought I ought to let you know that I slept up in your hay loft last night. I mean... I didn't bother anything, but I needed a place to sleep and it didn't look like anybody was here, so I-” (Oops. A little too much information there. Because, for sure, I started looking embarrassed at that point.)
Which he apparently noticed, so he stammered on, “But I... heard you... milking your cows... and um... well, don't worry, I don't think you're any weirder than I am... sometimes...” (then he giggled nervously) - “because... well, I guess you've figured out that I saw you, but it's cool, really. ... But I guess you're here by yourself, huh?” Which could also have been taken the wrong way, so he quickly added, “I mean, I don't want to rob you or anything, but um... is there anything I could do so I could get something to eat? Because I haven't had anything since yesterday morning. ... Except I took a watermelon out of your garden. ... But I think I pissed most of that away last night.” Followed by ANOTHER giggle.
“Uh... well, sure. ... I guess. I sort of rushed through breakfast myself, so... I can scramble some eggs and we got sausage or bacon... and I can make some toast... so is that okay? ... And you won't owe me anything, all right?” Under the circumstances, I think I did pretty good.
“That would be great! .... So is it all right if I come in?”
“Yeah, okay. ... Sausage or bacon?”
“Both would be all right. ... If it's okay.”
And so before long I knew his name was Jantje. (That's the Dutch equivalent of Jan Jr. And at first, I thought he was saying it was Yahntye or something.) And he was from Chicago, but... “I thought they had palm trees in Florida.”
That's the first things I found out about him, in that order. So in regard to his question about palm trees, I had to tell him that there really weren't that many up our way.
“But further south they got them, right? Like in Orlando?” then after another bite, he added, “That's where I'm going. Or at least I hope so. ... My brother lives there. You know how far it is from here?”
I shrugged. “Oh, it's about 150, maybe 160 miles I guess. But yeah, they got palms down there. I think they call them Royal Palms. I only been there a couple of times, but it's nice.”
“Yeah, but 160 miles... damn. I guess... well, I'm not sure, but... you care if I ask when your rents are back?”
Which could have been a dangerous question to answer, and I did think about it, but I told him. Late Thursday night. (And it was then late Monday morning.)
“Oh. ... And don't worry, I'm not going to try to rob you or anything...” (That's what they ALWAYS say)... “But you mind if I stay here a night or so? ... I can sleep on the couch or something.”
(Not if I can help it, he's not.) But of course I said I guessed it would be all right. And I was starting to get butterflies in my stomach. Big time.
“Cool! ... How old are you, anyway? ... If you don't mind me asking.”
So I told him and then asked how old he was. Thirteen. And a half. Almost. (YES!)
“Oh, and I got to ask two more favors,” he continued, “Could I put my clothes in a washer? ... I'll keep my boxers on, but I'm a little dirty right now. ... So I guess I need to take a shower or something. Would that be all right?”
Well, I wanted to say that it would be all right if he wanted to throw his boxers in too, but I managed, “Sure, no problem. I'll show you where the washer and dryer is and the shower's upstairs.” And I sure wanted to go into the bathroom with him, but I was trying to sound neutral about it. But he later told me that that's when his gaydar first went off. I guess my voice sounded a little funny.
Yeah, it probably did.
Once he was out of the shower, (and after I took a quick one), we started playing Monopoly and we kept at it for most of the afternoon, so it wasn't long until I was feeling more relaxed about everything. One reason was that we were sitting at the kitchen table, so out of sight, out of mind. Or at least it wasn't a constant distraction. Those boxers he was wearing looked to be a little loose, so I was tempted to accidentally drop the dice under the table a couple of times, but I didn't. Because I definitely didn't want him changing his mind about spending the night.
He didn't say why at first, but he'd been thinking for some time about living with his brother in Orlando. And so a friend of a friend had an older brother who was about to head down to Daytona for a couple of weeks. Him and one of his college buddies. Well, at first the older brother of the friend of his friend didn't think much of the idea, even if Jantje wasn't going to Daytona with them, but eventually he said he guessed it would be all right. So he was on his way.
But they stopped for the night just north of Atlanta and the two college boys decided to go looking for some pussy. And they found some, so of course Jantje had to make himself scarce for awhile. In fact, he'd probably be sleeping in the car that night. Bummer. And it was about to get worse.
It got much worse because the two ladies his “friends” picked up were prostitutes. Or apparently that's what they said they were, only they weren't, they were undercover police officers and so there Jantje was at an all-night restaurant across the street when he saw his two ex-friends being led out in handcuffs. And not only that, their car was towed off. Probably impounded. Along with all his stuff!
So Jantje was stuck. He could hardly go to the police station asking about it, he had no idea what the outcome was going to be, or how long his “friends” would be behind bars or ANYTHING, in fact. He didn't even know how long he could stay in that restaurant or if there was a curfew, but he finally found a place in a nearby alleyway behind a dumpster and that's where he spent the night. But next morning, still no sign of his friends or his stuff.
So all he had was about $20 and the clothes on his back. Only he was afraid to try thumbing right then, so he found out which city bus would take him to downtown Atlanta, then he found out where the bus station was and bought a ticket to Macon. He said Macon wasn't that big, but he still wished he'd picked a smaller town because it was big enough when you were walking. But eventually he managed to get to U.S. 129 which more or less runs parallel to I-75 and that's when he started thumbing. It didn't look like he much choice. But while rides were hard to come by – he said he probably ended up walking about a third of the way, for the most part he was lucky. He wasn't picked up by the law and only two guys propositioned him.
And that was also when he dropped his first hint, only I was too dumb to catch it. What he said was, he didn't like doing it with people a lot older than him. That sailed right over my head.
But at any rate, both times he managed to talk his way out of it, but the second time he was starting to wonder. He said the guy picked him up outside of Valdosta and for awhile it didn't look like he was going to take no for an answer.
But he finally let him out and after that he gave up on thumbing and just started walking. For close to fifty miles, until he happened across our barn. Fifty!
So I said, “Well, I'm glad you found our barn, but what I don't understand is, how did you get here in the first place?” We lived on a county road five miles from the highway.
He shrugged. “Don't know, but it was getting dark and I figured if a cop saw me – especially if it was late at night - he'd want to check me out, and I was also thinking that after getting as far as Florida... well, I thought I ought to be getting close to Orlando, so getting picked up when I was almost there would really suck. ... I mean, getting picked up no matter what would suck, but... well, anyway, I saw what turned out to the road you live on, so that's where I decided to go. Where there would hardly be any traffic and maybe I could find a place to sleep for awhile. ... So who knows, maybe it was fate, you ever think about that? Maybe we were meant to meet each other.”
And actually, that was his second hint, but what you have to understand is, as far as sex was concerned, my hopes didn't go much beyond seeing him naked, sleeping in the same bed or maybe taking a shower together, but that was just about it. And I would have settled for that.
But there was one other thing: I was starting to think about the possibility of going to Orlando with him. In fact, I'd almost started burning my bridges before I let him in our door. I didn't think about it at first, because it seemed like it was too much to hope for, but whether it was or not, at the rate we were going, we were going to clean the refrigerator out. So explaining how I managed to eat that much all by myself would have been next to impossible. And not only that, just sitting around talking and playing Monopoly all afternoon almost guaranteed that there was no way I'd ever be able to finish doing the stuff I'd been told to do by the time they got back, because I'd gotten too far behind.
But even though at times it seemed like he wanted me to leave and go to Orlando with him, he still hadn't said as much. Or had he?
Like for instance, there was the deal with Tobias, his older brother in Orlando. Jantje talked to him on the phone before leaving, and Tobias said he guessed it would be all right, but he wasn't going to pay his way down there because he didn't have that much to spare.
So I asked, “Well, I'm not trying to be nosy or anything, but having to feed you and all, won't that sort of put a strain on him?”
“No, not really. He's got a lawn care business. He's just getting it started - that's why it's a little tight right now - but he said if I could get down there, I could be a big help. So see, I'd be making money too. And riding around on a lawnmower for most of the day... that's not so bad. ... I bet it's a lot easier than working in a garden.”
So I said, “Yeah, and the pay's probably better, too,” but it's like I just said, he hadn't really asked me, even if it almost sounded like he had.
And also like I said earlier, when it came to sex, I was virtually clueless, so that put a limit on what I was hoping for - and not only that, I was willing to postpone all that I WAS hoping for. Because if there was a chance of going with him to Orlando, I didn't want to mess things up. Sorry to disappoint you, but that's just the way it was.
Only that situation was about to change drastically.
It started changing when we went out to milk the cows again. (Just in case you don't know, cows are milked twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening.) (And the reason I said “we” is because Jantje wanted to see how it was done.)
Oh, and here's something else you should know – and you really should, but in case you don't – it gets hot during the summer in north Florida. and whether that's a cliché or not, it's still a fact. 90° is definitely warm, but when you factor in close to 90% humidity... well, it's just hot and that's all you can say about it.
And that's why Jantje was still in his boxers. Well, aside from his Nikes, of course, because wearing shoes outside really is a good idea – but at any rate, as we were making our way to the barn, my resolve to act the way I thought a normal person should act was wavering considerably. I still had my soccer shorts on. And while I'd gotten rid of the A&D soaked rag, I had my jock strap underneath and I was thinking that it was a wise decision. Because if he wanted to see how I went about it up close and personal, he would almost have to be either kneeling on one knee or squatting, so he was going to be on one side of the cow and I was going to be sitting on the other side. So it would be almost impossible to NOT be looking up his shorts. And like I said, they were loose to start with. So now I was thankful for the heat and humidity and...
And one thing I haven't mentioned before is that these were fairly short boxer shorts that came down a few inches below his crotch.
So when he knelt down on one knee and I moved the stool up to the first cow and sat down, I was certainly expecting a sighting, but what I WASN'T expecting was to see it all hanging out. Both of his pink wrinkly balls and his dick too. Although, unless he had a hard on, I guess it's fairly obvious that if both of his balls were out then his dick was going to be hanging out too, but it still came as a shock. Not that I minded, but... “Ho-ly shit.” It was nice. It looked like he was a little further along than I was. Which came as a bit of a surprise, but the fact that he was uncircumcised took the situation off to an entirely different level, because I'd never seen one of those before. Not live and in person, I hadn't, and to be honest, up until I saw Jantje's right in front of me, I wasn't completely sure if they even existed any more. You might think I'm making this up, but I'm not. “Holy mutherfucking SHIT!” So naturally, if I was thinking thoughts like THAT, my eyes almost had to bug out and there was going to be a sharp involuntary intake of breath followed by some quick shallow breathing...
So Jantje glanced down and... “Oh, shit! Sorry, but... I guess that's what I get for letting them impound all my good underwear. I just had to be wearing my raggedy ones that night. ... But I'll try not to distract you.” And with that, he stood up and made himself more presentable. Depending of course on exactly how you define “presentable”.
Because, needless to say, I'd found his previous presentation to be more than satisfactory, but somehow I managed to sound cool about it. Or at least as cool as is possible when you're sounding a bit squeaky, but I said, “Well, as long as you don't get it too close to one of her teats, you're probably okay.”
... “As long as... I... WHAT?? ... Oh, I get it,” then he started laughing.
But then he dropped another hint. He was still laughing, but he said, “I'll keep that in mind. It might not be a bad idea.”
I started blushing. “Yeah, maybe not.” I mean, I really didn't think he was serious, so I was just trying to get the last word in.
Then I thought he was trying to change the subject. And possibly he was, or maybe it was just that he didn't know and it occurred to him all at once, but he asked me, “Is milk warm when it comes straight out of a cow like that?”
“Well of cour... well, we got two that are refrigerated...” (Then I blew it by starting to giggle, so I finished) ... “Yeah, it's warm, Jantje. Because if it's not, that probably means the cow is dead.”
So he squatted down and said, “So give me a squirt,” and he opened his mouth wide.
So I squirted him on his face. (But yes, there it was again. Just about all of it.)
Jantje wiped his face and then asked, “You ever make like you're having a water gun fight with them?” (“God! He's starting to get hard!”)
“No... I... haven't. Because it might... piss the... cows off. ... Pretty bad, I'd...”
And then I trailed off. Either that, or my heart jumped into my throat – I mean, it sure felt that way, because without saying anything else, he stood up... and then his boxers dropped to his ankles. And I know my mouth dropped open... so THAT'S why I trailed off. You can't talk if your mouth is hanging open. It's not possible.
Then he was stepping out of them, and I heard him say, “I'm wondering what it feels like if you were to-”
And then he was squatting down again and if it's possible, my mouth dropped open a little more, because it was no longer getting there, it had arrived! It was straight up! So of course-
“You ever tried it? ... I think it would feel sorta...” (slightly nervous giggle) ... “um... warm. ... So what do you think?”
“About... you mean... well, I mean... uh... are you say-”
“Well, I THINK I am. So you want to?”
So there I sat, with a teat still in hand trying to process it all. Because what you have to take into consideration are the facts I've already stated, that up until then, just seeing him naked was almost as good as it could get. So seeing him naked with a hard-on... oh shit! ... And now it sounded like he was asking if I wanted to jerk off while he was jerking himself off... so I could be watching him DOING it... I'm really surprised I didn't fall off the stool.
But finally I managed to squeak, “Well, I... um-”
“I mean you do jerk off, right? ... You guys aren't that backward, are you?”
“Well, of COURSE we're not! I do it all the TIME, but... well, I'm not sure if I can right now because... well, because... because...” (And then in a small, almost apologetic voice I finished), “I burnt it last night. ... Sort of.” (But still, I couldn't take my eyes off of his dick. He was slowly pulling on it. So his pink glans would slide out into the open, then it would be gone, then there it WAS again... so if you got down to it, all I needed to do was just barely touch it and sore or not, I was probably going to go off like Mount Vesuvius. Because not only was there that wonderful visual aid, I'd also gone over twenty-four hours without any relief, so we're talking about an eruption of some magnitude right around the corner.)
Unless I'd embarrassed myself almost to death by admitting that I'd burnt it, that is. I mean, how in the hell do you explain THAT? Well, think about it, all right?
And I sure was. I was thinking... I was TRYING to think-
“You BURNT it??? How did you do... you stuck it in the microwave, didn't you?”
“I'll tell you later,” I blurted and with that, I gave him a milk squirt right on his dick, just as he started another downstroke.
“Yes! ... Do it again.”
“Just as soon as I get my clothes off,” I replied hurriedly.
But it turned out I was wrong about needing to just barely touch it, I was dead wrong about that part, because it went off almost as soon as it popped out into the open. I shoved both my shorts and my jock down and-
And there it went, just like that. It was spectacular. With all that pent-up energy, I guess it WOULD be.
And Jantje's wasn't bad either. It had to be the best experience of my entire life, it couldn't get any better.
Although for awhile, things seemed to be getting slightly worse while we were rustling three steaks from the freezer downstairs. One for me and two for Jantje. How he managed to weigh only 82 pounds is beyond me, but since he'd had almost nothing to eat the day before, I guess it was understandable. Only James wasn't going to take any of that into consideration, so yeah, I was still burning bridges even though Jantje still hadn't said anything definite about wanting me to take off with him. Which left me feeling a little apprehensive about the eventual outcome.
Then when it was looking like maybe he was dropping some hints again, at first I wasn't sure how to take that either, because it came from my trying to explain how I burnt my dick. I could've just said something like I spilled some hot coffee in my lap, but for some reason I told him exactly how it happened. How I'd poured some olive oil into a cup and how it didn't really seem to be boiling hot or anything. So I was going to slowly pour out a little, but as soon as it made contact - YEOW! - and I ended up dumping the whole cup on my middle.
So once Jantje mostly stopped laughing about it he said, “I ought to nickname you Olive Oyl. You know, like Popeye's girlfriend.”
“Well, I wouldn't care too much for that.” I'm sure I looked just as serious as I was about it, because I didn't care for that one at ALL.
“Well, how about O.O.? Initials, you know? ... I promise never to say what it stands for. Not to anyone.”
So that was an awfully strong hint. Who was he going to tell in Orlando if I wasn't there too? Only I was still a little afraid to come right out with it, so instead I said, “Well, I always thought Desmond was kind of... oh, I don't know, so-so, but I don't think O.O.'s any better because people would be thinking maybe it stood for something like Oscar Oswald. ... So, no, I don't think so.”
“Desmond just sounds so serious. ... Anybody ever call you Desi?”
“No. But I don't know...” (deep breath) “If you don't care... I'd like to go to Orlando with you. Because there's no reason for me staying here. ... me and my step-father don't get along and it's only going to get worse, so-”
“Well shit, let's go for it then” he interrupted. “The only reason I was dropping hints was because I got the feeling that you didn't get along with your step-father, because you dropped some yourself in case you don't know it... but that would be great! We could look out for each other! ... So you really want to?”
And that's when I was knew I was in love. I was as sure about this as a fourteen-year-old could possibly be.
Then he asked, “So, you ever hitch before?”
“Not far, but I don't think we need to. There's this kid I know at school and his old man is pretty well off and I could sell my bike to him for... well, if I asked an even hundred, I'd almost be giving it away, because it's a racing bike. And I've done some work on it, so it's worth a lot more, but the point is, I can't take it with me and if I leave it here I guarantee you that my step-father is going to put an ad in the paper... he'd probably ask at least $500... but it's not his, it's mine. I had it before my mom ever married him. ... But see, that way, we can just take a bus. I think I'll put it to Steve – that's his name – I'll put it like this: he has to take care of our cows and all Thursday evening. His father has a farm too, so he knows what to do and if he agrees to that, then he can have my bike for-”
“You'd really do that?”
“Like I just said, why not?”
“Well, I'd go for at least $150, then. But... well, I'll pay you back just as soon as I can, but... well, damn!”
So he seemed to be suitably overwhelmed, but then almost without stopping to catch his breath he was back to my new nickname with, “You know what? I think I've got a GOOD name. Oh Oh.” And then he spelled it out. We could say it meant anything we wanted it to. As in “Oh oh, I caught an alligator!” Or what James might say when he got back home. “Oh oh, he's cleaned our freezer out.” Not that that was what he probably said, but...
But at any rate, that's how I became Oh Oh. It probably would have stuck no matter what, but as it turned out I wasn't far away from my first “oh oh” moment with Jantje, and for awhile I was starting to wonder. Because, like I said, when it came to sex, I was clueless. But then you could say the same thing about Jantje, only in his case it was just that he had no idea that I WAS that clueless. I was sending out all sorts of signals, so naturally he assumed...
He assumed that I was signaling for a lot more than I actually was at the time.
First, I “forgot” to put his jeans and shirt in the dryer, so when it was time to throw his boxers in that evening, he didn't have anything else to wear. Unless I wanted to let him borrow some of my clothes, but I forgot to mention that as well. We were both boys, so it wasn't a big deal, him with nothing but a towel around his middle. I thought he looked cute that way and I got more than just a few good looks. I thought it was better than completely naked. Although I did have hopes for “completely” once we were in bed that night. I didn't think I was going to be getting much sleep.
I was a little further along when it came to having some hair above my dick. His little black patch was just getting started, but at least it would have qualified as a legitimate bush, not just a few hairs. Only his dick looked to be a little bigger than mine. Probably not too much difference when it came to circumference, but it looked longer. How much of that was foreskin, I didn't know. (As it turned out, he was a about five and a half inches, while I hadn't quite reached the five inch mark. But I was almost there, so there wasn't that much of a difference after all. Unless...)
Well, I'll get to that shortly.
So there he was with only a thin dish towel around his middle and there I was in my jock strap. I was because Jantje thought I needed to toss my shorts in with his boxers and also because he said I looked sexy that way. I'd often enough thought that I looked sexy while I was doing a strip tease in front of my mirror, but I'd never had anyone else tell me that, so I was glad to hear it. And beyond that, I really was an exhibitionist or I never would have taken all the chances I'd been taking almost every single time the urge hit. But it never occurred to me that having someone say you looked sexy could mean that he wanted to actually have sex with you – and even if it did occur to me, just a little, you still have to keep in mind that as far as I was concerned, I was having as much sex as I could imagine right then. Us being almost naked was as good as it could possibly get. And the fact that we were likely to be sharing the same room at his brother's meant we'd be seeing a lot of each other, not just for a night, but for... well, for quite awhile at least, but I thought it was wonderful!
“You got a cute ass,” he commented, and I thought that was wonderful, too. He had a cute one, now he was saying I had one as well, so what more could I ask for? Only I was thinking mostly in terms of just looking at it, appreciating its beauty. Although eventually I'd probably touch it and I was sure that it would feel heavenly. (And in case you were wondering, it sure did.)
But yes, when I answered, “Well, thanks. I'm glad it meets your approval,” and then wiggled it kind of seductively at him, I'd sent out another signal.
Then he sent out another. Or at least his penis did, because it started rising. Then he looked down at it and said significantly, “I think it likes it too.” In retrospect, that was a VERY significant statement, but I still didn't get it. Simply put, it hadn't ever occurred to me.
So I answered, “Well, that's good,” then I added, “I haven't ever seen one like yours before.”
“What? You mean my dick?”
“Well, yeah. ... Because-”
“Oh, because I'm not circumcised?”
“Yeah... I guess. It feels different, huh?”
... “Well, it's always been there, so I don't know if it does or not. ... But I've heard if you're uncircumcised, you have more feeling.” He shrugged. “So I don't guess I can complain.”
“Yeah, I don't think I would, either. ... You're lucky.” I particularly liked the way his foreskin was still stretched tight over the glans. Although I was thinking mostly in terms of how nice it looked when he pulled down on it - in fact, I was thinking that it might be a good thing for us to do again right then, or... “Oh my god. I wonder if... maybe, we could do it to each OTHER!”
Almost all of us are clueless at some point in our life, but when the opportunity is right in front of you, the previously unthought of can all at once seem awfully obvious, and I was about to mention it, but then Jantje brought up yet another interesting possibility.
He yawned – a bit theatrically, I think - and said, “But it's been a long day. So you want to go to bed? ... Or you gonna make me sleep on the couch?”
Innocently as I could manage, I replied, “Oh, I guess there's enough room for both of us in my bed, so... sure. But of course I was thinking, “Yes! Oh, YES!”
And that was especially true when he tossed aside his towel on his way upstairs. “Oh my god, he's going to be NAKED!” Not that the towel would have made much difference, but-”
“But leave your jock on for at least awhile, okay? ... Oh, and I forgot something. I'll be right back,” and with that, he scurried back downstairs.
And I STILL haven't figured out what I was thinking at that point. (“!!!??!!??”)? Something like that, I guess. And that was before I heard the microwave come on downstairs. For about thirty seconds, then ding – it cut off – and I could hear him bounding back up the stairs.
Then he walked in and I asked, “Um, what's in the cup?”
“It'll work a lot better than last time,” he said, mysteriously.
Just not mysteriously enough. “If that's what I think it is-”
“It'll feel good. ... Trust me?”
He dipped a finger into the cup, then plopped onto the bed on his side, facing me. “This isn't going to hurt a bit,” he said, and with that he traced his finger down my chest, starting at the area between my nipples and slowly going down to my belly button. Olive oil! But it was soothingly warm, not hot. “That feel okay?”
“Uh... yeah,” I managed. It should have been as obvious as obvious could be that there was going to be a major difference between tracing my own finger down my chest and someone else doing that, but I was still into the thrill of discovery and I thought it was amazing! I mean, who would have ever THUNK it, you know?
And of course if that person happens to be in bed beside you, naked with a hard-on, well-
“Turn over on your side facing me,” he said. And that's when it hit me: we were about to play doctor, I just knew it!
And I guess we were, because next he said, “So let's see what it's looking like down here,” and with that, he pulled my pouch down and there it was, sticking straight out, hard as a brick. (Mine didn't go straight up, but it sure could go straight out.) (And it worked just fine.) .
“Nice,” he commented, and then he... well, he started doctoring it. He put his FINGERS on it! Which of course produced an electric shock-type feeling: in fact, it had to be the best I'd ever experienced. (Fortunately, that incident in the barn had taken place less than two hours before. So we were both capable of some restraint on this deal.)
He was rubbing some warm oil on my straining erection. And it certainly was an infinite improvement over the way I'd gone about it the night before. “How's it feeling?” he wondered.
“... Better... it feels a lot better,” I sighed. Only later would allusions to the laying on of hands occur to me, at that moment, I couldn't think of any funny remarks at all. It felt so good, I hardly even thought about how much I wanted to work on his some. Or a lot. I mean, it occurred to me, but-
After lightly coating both my dick and my balls, he pulled my pouch back into place. But I was only slightly disappointed, because I was looking forward to returning the favor.
Jantje started rubbing my butt. So now I was looking forward to rubbing on HIS butt - in fact, now I wasn't even sure where I wanted to start...
But I guessed I'd start with his dick. So I reached out... and he gasped.
“... Later,” he managed, “You can do that... later! ... Okay?”
Well darn it all, I was just getting started, but-
He pulled me closer. Right up against him, in fact. So IT was right against me, so I could live with it. Him squeezing and rubbing on my butt felt almost as good as I imagined rubbing on his would feel, and then he was tracing a finger down into the crevice between my cheeks. So yeah, I was going to do that TOO... and then he was rubbing on my hole. (!!!) I wasn't entirely sure about that part yet.
But oh well, I guessed I probably would. Later. Almost as soon as I could get around to it, because when you get down to it there's something about being nasty that's awfully appealing and that's particularly true if you'd never imagined the other boy doing such a thing because he looked too beautiful to ever THINK of doing such a thing.
Then he stuck a finger in and I started losing track everything. He was working his finger WAY inside, and he didn't even have gloves on!
“Feel okay?” he asked.
“Um... yeah... I guess... oh boy.” (Two fingers.)
“You're really tight,” he noted. I had no idea what he was talking about, all I knew was that it felt kind of good. In fact... well, it felt a lot better than when I was getting a check-up, because the doctor was always very professional and only had his rubber-gloved finger in there for a few seconds, but in Jantje's case, I was starting to wonder. But it did feel good in a strange sort of way, so...
Eventually, stinky finger(s) or no stinky finger(s), it was slowly dawning on me that I'd want to try that as well. It was all about being really nasty.
But then he asked me, “Can I fuck you? ... Please?” And he was still wiggling his fingers inside me.
“Um... I don't know. ... I mean-”
“You haven't done it before?”
... “No... not really. ... I didn't know-” (and I was about to mention that I'd never even THOUGHT of such a thing,) but-
“I've been fucked lots of times,” he continued. “Not lately, but it really feels good. It's like nothing you've ever felt before.” He was still moving those fingers around. He'd almost talked me into it.
“What does it feel like? ... Umpth!”
“It's hard to put it into words. ... But I haven't ever... I mean, you can do me later... I really want you to, but I... haven't ever fucked anybody. .... It'll hurt some at first,” he rushed on, “maybe even a lot, but it'll be worth it, I promise.”
So maybe here's a good a place for some more about Jantje. Until he was twelve, he didn't know much about sex, either. But he had a best friend, someone he'd been tight with since the third grade, and all at once it took off to an entirely different level, one that he'd never dreamed of before. It it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Or at least it was until his best friend decided he liked fucking girls better.
So it had been over for more than a month, but it still hurt. It really hurt bad to know that the best friend you ever had now almost hated you, didn't even want you to be around him, so that's when Jantje started thinking about a fresh start somewhere else. His parents didn't think much of the idea at first, mostly because to their way of thinking, Tobias wasn't too responsible. The major bone of contention was Tobias dropping out of Northwestern. Blowing off a full scholarship to a great school like that was nothing to sneeze at. So while his parents could accept Jantje for who he was – they had no problem with that – they kept saying that they didn't think going to live with his older brother was the best idea.
But they knew that he hurt. They wished they could make it go away, but they couldn't. Only time could do that, but for awhile it was going to be a rough ride. So when Jantje brought up the idea of riding down to Orlando with those two college boys, his parents finally agreed. Reluctantly, but they did.
And in fact, Jantje could have easily enough called his parents when it all went to heck down in Atlanta, but he didn't want to face the “I told you so”s and he still didn't want to face the way things were with his former best friend. He didn't know where, but he was hoping to find someone else, he was hoping for another chance and maybe this time it would work out the way he wanted it to.
Which brings things back to me. The way he looked at it, in a way he had everything to lose, but in another way there was nothing at all to lose. He didn't know if I was the one he was looking for, but he did like me, almost from the start. And of course that's always helpful. But he wanted to know for sure, so when I started sending out all those signals, he decided to go for it.
So that's how I ended up lying face down with the corner of my mattress between my legs. We'd skipped right over almost all of the intermediate steps that you'd think might come between us jerking off in each other's presence and me about to get stuffed, but at any rate this left me spread open quite a bit. But I still had my jock on, because, after all, it sure didn't cover my ass and also because Jantje thought it looked erotic. Personally, though, I thought it was pretty uncomfortable, and that was before he started trying to get it in. Basically, I was pinned with him on top of me with his legs between my legs and he kept trying to push my legs wider apart. I suppose I could've extricated myself from that position, but... I didn't want to. Or at least, MOST of the time, I didn't: I wanted him to do it. Once he started trying to get it in, occasionally I was thinking about how nice it was that he'd mentioned that it might hurt “some”, but when I wasn't thinking about that I was mostly trying NOT to think, and somehow I managed to keep most of my murderous thoughts almost completely at bay. I kept thinking that I really wanted him to, because here was something that bachelors living together could do. I'd never thought about it before, but all at once it made a lot of sense.
Then some other times, I thought stuff like, “So this is what happened to the boys the Romans captured! ... Well, I sure feel for them now. This HURTS!”
It was strange feeling. I could feel the head of his dick pushing against my sphincter, slowly opening it, and I was thinking things like, “It's not going to open any more, because it CAN'T ... God, this hurts like fucking HELL!” - then I'd feel it push in a little further. But it still had a ways to go. “This isn't going to work! It can't! It can't OPEN any more! ” Five and a half inches is only average, (although attached to someone 4'-10'' it looked a lot bigger) – but average or not, it still felt enormous. It felt like a log was stuck inside me – “Oh good. Now it IS stuck!” - but he kept telling me he was almost there. Just a little further.
“Keep pushing back. Just as hard as you can.”
It took some willpower, but I didn't want it to stay where it was because I didn't think I could stand it any more, so I took a deep breath and-
Well, yes and no. Maybe two inches was in and while it didn't hurt quite as bad, it still hurt like fucking hell. I was stretched wide open! “Shit!”
So I bit his finger again. He said if it got to hurting too much, I should just bite on it some. It's a wonder that I didn't bite it off.
But it was a strange feeling when I finally felt his pubes brushing against my bottom, because when he finally bottomed out – pretty abruptly, almost as in WHOMP – I didn't feel any less stretched and it still hurt, but he'd just hit that stupid button he'd been talking about, and that's when I first got an inkling that it could feel... well, at first, not too bad. That's as far as I would have gone with it, it simply felt not so bad. Possibly even a little interesting.
But it was about to get a lot more interesting. I was still stretched as wide open as I could imagine – I mean, I sure didn't want to think about getting opened up more than I already was, so every time he'd pull back, a part of me was hoping he'd keep going, that he'd get that damn thing OUT of me... but at the same time I kept anticipating him hitting my prostate again, and it gradually kept building until I almost forgot the pain. It was still there, but that other feeling was starting to override everything. It was making me squeak, it was making me hump back, trying to meet him, trying to make that almost indescribable feeling come back as quickly as possible.
And then we shifted into overdrive and I guess it's like James said: if you really want something, then you're willing to do whatever it takes. James was a virtual font of wisdom sometimes. Most of the time he was full of it, but SOMETIMES...
It was worth it. That slow gradual build-up until I all at once I felt Jantje jerk and when I felt him losing it... well, you know, me too. As in squirt squirt.
Quite a few, in fact. It was spectacular!
And the afterglow wasn't too bad either. Although it was messy. It could have been worse, but... well, never mind, because it didn't matter. You make a mess, you clean it up, simple. And since Jantje had a lot to do with my making that mess, I thought it was nice of him to help clean it up.
But us taking a shower together was even nicer. We weren't in any condition to keep going with it, but that's when Jantje... well, you know, it was all about that ultimate blood brother fantasy I'd often entertained. And...
God. I loved it. Then when I returned the favor, it didn't taste bad at all. That came the next morning, though. That night we were just curled up together with his thighs between mine and we talked and stroked and I was in heaven.
So at any rate, Wednesday morning we decided that we were definitely in love. I already was, but when Jantje announced that I was the one he'd been looking for all along, that clinched. it.
And so we made it to Orlando and lived happily ever after. Or at least we have so far, and as for what might be in the future... who knows, but I don't think it'll be too bad, no matter what.
I called home just before school was about to start back when I knew James was likely to be at work, so I talked to my mom, and... well, she said I'd better NOT be coming back, because James was still on the warpath, but she'd send my birth certificate and all that good shit so I could enter the ninth grade in Orlando.
We did not eat a whole side of beef, though. That is a gross exaggeration. Although I'm sure we burned up lots of calories Tuesday, Wednesday and while we were still there Thursday morning, so...
Maybe we did, then. Sex can create quite an appetite.
But really, what are the odds of stumbling into someone who has almost the same feelings you have? A thousand miles away, practically in the middle of nowhere, who just happens to be home by himself, who just happens to have a bad home life he'd like to get away from, what are the odds on that ever happening? Certainly not too high, but then the odds on winning the Lottery aren't all that high either, and someone somewhere is going to hit it big eventually, so...
So in our case, maybe it really was fate. Logically, it shouldn't have happened, but, sometimes, it does.
Thanks for reading my story. And even if it's a very obvious thing to say, I also hope that you enjoyed it.