Date: Sat, 23 Nov 2002 20:21:53 -0500 (EST) From: Clark Gaybull Subject: One of Many Escapades #5 This time I'm gonna write about my week-long escapades with Vinnie. Vinnie was visiting his aunt and uncle, who's place was very visible from mine because it, too, was so close to the lake. But it was "at about ten o'clock " from mine, so, there was quite a bit of water between the two structures. Vinnie was told by his cousin, Kim, to look for me. Kim visited the aunt and uncle during the last two weeks in July. And Kim ended up spending more of the second week with me than with her relatives. It was with Kim that I had my first heterosexual experiences. Needless-to-say, I didn't get very much work done on the cabin when she was around. She was about a month older than me, having turned 17 just before her visit. When she returned to her hometown - which was the same as Vinnie's - I thought that my experimental, homosexual phase had ended. The first week of Vinnie's visit was unremarkble. (I guess he was content with the distractions provided by his kin.) I had seen him a couple of times during the first two weekends, fishing with his uncle and father, both of whom returned to their primary residences during the week because they had to work. And THAT was more than two hours away for each. As the prospect of a second week with his aunt loomed, he apparently decided to emerge more from her companionship. Our first meeting was at the beach. I was taking a break from improving the bungalow. It was so hot that a swim sounded like the perfect solution. When I arrived at the beach, Vinnie and another guy (who's parents owned property at the lake) were rough-housing in the shallow water. Jack was a young, second-generation schooteacher. And Vinnie was splashing and jumping on him. When Jack saw me, he announced that "help is here." After Jack introduced me to Vinnie, my presence must have provided Jack with the excuse he was lookng for - to get away from Vinnie's energetic pestering. Jack splashed a few more times, then said that he had "had enough" and was leaving. When Jack had gone, Vinnie expanded his attacks on me to include the physical contact that was part of his onslaught of Jack. In addition to the splashing, the battle now also consisted of wrestling and ducking. And I think I could tell that his repeated jumping on my back and shoulders was giving him a hard-on. To uneqivocally answer that question, I made sure to fend him off a few times by using several "stiff arms" to his groin. They were met with an undoubtable stiffness of his own. Granted, these "feels" were through his old-fashioned, baggy swimsuit. But, there was no mistaking that the repeated contact had made him erect, which probably explained the rush of blood to MY member. I don't think he knew that I was becoming aroused, but I eventually realized that his actions were calculated to give him pleasure. In the interest of concealing my stimulatedness, I suggested that we "take a break" by swimming out to the raft. (I thought that, after paddling forty yards, my "condition" might subside. I was right.) After climbing up to my resting spot, I was not embarrassed by any woodie. But when Vinnie scampered up - especially when he laid back flat with his hands over his head - it was obvious that he was still excited. Even wearing the roomy trunks, the "tenting" of them was very conspicuous. It was almost as though he was flaunting his state. It was under these circumstances that I learned more about Vinnie. Physically, I could see that he was considerably younger than his 17-year-old cousin. (I eventually found out that he had celebrated his thirteenth birthday earlier this year.) Resting on his back with his arms stretched beside his head, it was noticeable that there was only a hint of fuzz in his pits and on his lower legs. From his water-hardened nipples above his suit, to his youthful knees below, there was no trace of anything but smoothness. His reddish-brown hair was darkened by being wet. (I thought his blue eyes completed an unusual combination.) And I hadn't previously observed the fullness of his lips; but they are quite substantial - like Steve Tyler's, of Aerosmith. In spite of it being mid-August, he didn't have much of a tan. But he said that he had even less color prior to his first week at the lake. "My cousin tells me you got along with her pretty good." "VERY good," I corrected. "What did you two do?" I didn't know how much I should tell him, so my limited reply was, "What DIDN'T we do." "Wow. You REALLY did all that?" This conversation was NOT making his erection go away. And, MY dick started to harden as I remembered my sessions with his cousin. I thought I had better sit up. In fact, I STOOD up and dove off of the raft. Now I've got a rod again and I'm uncomfortable as hell. So I swam under the raft; quickly took off my suit; slung it over a strap; and began to relieve myself. "I can SEE you under there," sung his voice. "I'm just scratching an itch," which I did quietly and rapidly. So, it wasn't long 'til my cum floated to the top of the water. With equal efficiency, I put my suit back on; returned atop the raft; and acted like nothing had happened. (You know - "the cat that just ate the mouse" look.) "Good show!" he commended. "Feel better?" My silence was follwed by him admitting, "We do it all the time." "Do what?" I played dumb. "Beat off." Pause. "Sometimes we do it to EACH OTHER." How much did this 13-year-od know? How much did he DO? I sure wasn't gonna prolong this conversation. "Kim says you were cummin' all the time." Then he bragged, "Sometimes I can cum five times in one day." (In fact, that's MY most - with HIS cousin!) Then I successfully changed the subject: "I've gotta get back to work. I've got some more moulding to place before going home for the night." "You mean you don't stay at your cabin?" "No. My mom and dad feed me. So that's where I go every night." "Are you coming back tomorrow?" "Yeah. I usually get here around ten." "Good," he said. "It's supposed to be sunny. I'll come over and work on my tan." "Well," I cautioned, "I've got a lot to do. So I don't know how much I'll be around." And with that, we went our separate ways for the rest of the day. Tuesday was another fine August day. True to my word, I arrived a little before ten. True to HIS word, Vinnie showed up before 10:30. It was already quite warm, so, he got comfortable in one of the lawn chairs at my place. And I went inside to hang some more strips of moulding. Less than an hour had passed when he appeared at the door, covered in sweat. "Whew," he panted. "Wanna cool off at the beach?" "I really have more work I wanna do. Besides, the beach is too far. But if you wanna cool off in my shower, you can." "Oh. You've got one? That sounds great!" He had forsaken yesterday's long, baggy suit for a very skimpy, speedo-type thing today. It didn't cover very much of him. And what it DID cover, bulged amply. It was actually too small for him because, as he pattered into the bathroom, much of his ass hung out of the fabric when he turned his back to me. I resumed working; heard the shower go on; then it stopped. His cousin had shown me the joys of girl-boy sex. But Vinnie was rekindling my appreciation for boy-boy relationships. He emerged from his shower, using a towel from the bathroom, but still dripping from most areas of his nearly naked frame. When he stood straight up, not only could I see through his tight, water-drenched bottoms, but the light-colored fabric appeared to have shrunk even tinier, showing that, in only forty-five minutes, he had developed "tan lines," which made me laugh. I boasted that I didn't have any "tan lines" because, "When I sunbathe, I sunbathe nude; on the secluded hill in back of the cabin. There's a field up there." "I don't believe you," he doubted. Which prompted me to moon him so he could see my bronzed buns. "When ya goin' up there again?" "Maybe later." He then gave himself a tour of my cabin before returning to his sunbathing. I put up two more strips, quenched my thirst, went out beside his lawn chair, and said, "Let's go." He opened his eyes eagerly, put on his sneaks, and motioned for me to "lead the way." Up through a side-hill grove of evergreens we went, carrying our beach towels, bug repellant, and sun lotion. "Here we are." And a spacious clearing lay before us. "Good enough?" "Good enough," I confirmed. Vinnie imitated me by spreading his beach towel on the ground. Then he stopped to watch me. I was removing my tank-type undershirt and I pulled off my gym shorts, thrusting my bare bottom toward him. "You really DON'T have any tan lines," he squealed. And his little speedos went down. I had seen most of him yesterday. But the area revealed today warrants additional description. The bulge was there previously. But now I saw a cock that belied its 13-year-old age. More like 18 or 19. For that matter, full-grown. Very little pubic hair. But what a package! Even his balls looked like those of a much older person: hairless, but hanging down sizeably in a plentiful scrotum. I turned toward him to demonstrate my immodesty. But I quickly flopped face-down on my towel to hide my growing tool. Maybe this would pass and I wouldn't be embarrassed to sun my front later. But, as he positioned himself, I knew that I wouldn't be losing my erection soon. He lay face-up, elbows bent, with his fingers intertwined so that he could rest his head in them. His dick rose intermittently in conjunction with his pulse, until finally it was stiff. But still it bobbed. "Wow. This is great." "Just don't fall asleep and get too much on one side." "You brought lotion, didn't you?" And I flung the plastic container toward him. He greased his front and, before he laid down, asked if I wanted my back done. "Go ahead," I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. First he squeezed some strands onto my back and rubbed them in. Then he did my legs, which, curiously, were spread much wider when he was finished than when he started. Lastly, I felt a spurt go onto each ass cheek. I don't think he separated my buns too much as he wiped the cream around. I hoped my humping of my towel wasn't too conspicuous. I thought I was gonna cum right then and there as he applied lotion to my butt. When he was done, I could finally calm down and I dozed off, only to be awakened about thirty minutes later by Vinnie tapping me on my shoulder saying, "Now you do me." He flopped onto his belly and I noticed that my dick was now soft. So, I thought that it'd be okay to oil his back. I did what he had done to me. And, his reaction was similar to mine, complete with the widening of his legs and the attempted impregnation of his towel. Lying face-down like he was, and bent like I had to be to apply the slippery stuff, maybe he wouldn't see that my full-fledged erection had returned. I remained sitting 'til I thought that he'd drifted off, put the sun protection on my front, then found the courage to recline on my back. My cock was still so hard that it slapped directly against my belly. But the more I considered the situation, the more relieved I felt: My boner might have been regarded as simply the upward resting of my dong. My totally nude body submissively accepted - and eventually welcomed - the shining warmth, which relaxed me into joining Vinnie in a restful nap. Almost an hour later, I was awakened by what I thought was a bug flying around my dick. I squinted one eye open but kept still because I didn't want to scare this bug away. I wanted to lure it to my fatal swat. Imagine my surprise when I saw Vinnie, sitting up, wielding a long, straw-like piece of stiff grass, tickling my weenie. I lay motionless awhile, enjoying him playing with my rod. Even with it fully extended, it wasn't too obvious because of its flatness to my stomach. However, when I noticed the wetness starting to ooze out of its head, I swiftly sat up and suggested that we return back down to my cabin. (In retrospect, how stupid I was to have ended that situation.) We put our bottoms back on - as difficult as that was, given our states of arousal - and uncomfortably descended the hill, making adjustments when necessary as we walked. How humorous Vinnie looked, trying to position his pointy thing in his too-skimpy speedos. If he'd have kept his hands off it, it probably would have softened sooner. It was close to four. I must have seemed really indifferent when addressing the next two subjects. I said, "I'm gonna put up some more moulding." Sensing his disappointment, I added, "But you're gonna be here tomorrow, right?" "No. My aunt's taking me to an amusement park. Wanna go?" Not being a "ride person," I was honest when I answered, "No thanks," which appeared to devastate him. "Well, maybe I'll see ya Thursday." And he left. But it rained all day Thursday. And into the afternoon Friday. Because he was at the park Wednesday, and him not wanting to be a bad-weather bother, his was almost a three-day absence. Just as I was about to leave for supper at mom's and dad's, Vinnie reappeared. He said that he had a real good time at the park. Most of the fun, he recalled, came from watching his aunt react to some of the wilder rides. And, he confirmed that he "didn't want to be in the way" while it rained Thursday and earlier Friday. "Besides," he quipped, "you don't have video games like my aunt does." But I had to risk upsetting him again: "I was just leaving." "Aw...Can't you stay over tonight?" "Well, I'll ask my parents." "How will I know?" "What's your aunt's number. I'll call." (My all-nighters at the lake are very infrequent 'cause mom's breakfasts are the best.) My folks said I could stay. I called and told him so. I said I'd return around 8:30. And he was there waiting. "Let's watch the game," he piped. So I got that channel on TV. But, when it ceased being close, he asked if I had any porn. I had reservations about sharing THAT with a 13-year-old, so I said, "I don't even have a VCR." "I know that. I mean mags. Playboy. Penthouse. Hustler." I DID have a stash hidden in my room. Finally I sighed and went to get them. His catch was good when I tossed them to him. And his voraciousness as he turned the pages reminded me of my own zeal while looking at them. "I'm gonna sleep in here?" He pointed to the bedroom behind the stuffed chair he was sitting in. "Yup. That's yours." "I think I'll read these in my room." And he stood up, his cut-off sweats unable to hide his hard-on. Then I heard a flop onto the bed. As small as the cottage is, there are, nevertheless, privacy partitions that don't go all the way up to the ceiling, separating the bedrooms from each other and them from the rest of the place. Although I couldn't SEE what he was doing, I could HEAR him flipping through the magazines and the frequent squeaking of the bed-springs. There WAS one outside window where I COULD peek into his room. So I tip-toed quietly out of the cabin to play voyeur. Did I get an eyeful! He had removed all of his clothes as he glanced at the magazines. His bare butt rose and fell as he ground his front into the bedding while he scanned the pages. Next, he rolled over and displayed his stiffening prick, which he began jerking affectinately. This was getting ME hot, and my own blood-engorged tool poked its head out of the right leg of my gym shorts, unrestrained because of my lack of jockeys. I was amused by him trying to look at the magazines while he was on his back. Finally, he lowered the materials, closed his eyes, and concentrated solely on whacking himself off. It was clear when he got close. His young legs stiffened. His face grimaced. Then his first spurt flew up to his left shoulder. He ejaculated a second and a third time onto his smooth chest - between his nipples and his "outie." The rest just streamed from his piss slit, down his shaft, and into his sparse pubes. What a sight! What a mess! I probably spied longer that I should have. But I wanted to see how he was gonna clean all this up. Leave it to Vinnie! He knew that there was a box of tissues next to the bed. At first he just laid there with gobs of cum everywhere. After about a minute, though, one of the spooge puddles started trickling down his left side toward the bedding, whereupon he quickly grabbed the tissues, saturating them by dabbing into the ponds of jizz. Fortunately, there was so much to wipe up that I was able to hastily but noiselessly return to the couch before the spill was mopped away. The post-game show was on TV and I announced that I was going to change to the channel which has The Tonight Show. Still hearing nothing, my next announcement was that I was going to bed. I always sleep naked and tonight was no exception. It was warm enough that I used the covers only as something to throw my bare leg over. I kept remembering the sights of the past hour and THAT made me hard. The most comfortable position, I found, was with one leg bent up over my erection, which pointed downward between my legs toward the bottom of the bed. I had left the TV on and was vaguely conscious of a shape which had replaced me on the couch, from where you CAN see into my room. I must have looked inviting, with my pecker extending out from under my nude, upturned ass, because the next thing I felt was Vinnie's stiff, uncovered dick poking me in the side. He reached under me to grab my package but I made it easier for him by rolling over onto my back so that my dork strained flat to my stomach. Some liquid was already starting to seep out from my tip, so, his jerking of my cock was with a minimum of dry friction because of the lubricating effect of my pre-cum. And it was with a minimum of time that I orgasmed. I tried to limit my reactions because I didn't want this to become all-night sex. But it felt soooo good. Finally I succumbed. A wad goes onto the right side of my face; followed by three more around my right tit; two below my belly-button; and a handful for Vinnie and my thin blond pubes. I pretended being only semi-awake. So Vinnie cleaned me up much as he had done to himself ninety minutes earlier: Soaking tissues from a box in my room with my juices and tossing them into the wastebasket in my room. I think he was proud of himself when he returned to his room. The squeakng of his bed-springs, though, signified that he did NOT go directly to sleep. The next morning, I got mine when he declined my fixing breakfast. "I wanna be there when dad arrives." "That's it," I thought. "But that was quite memorable!" A couple of hours later, the cabin's phone rang and it was Vinnie "How 'bout supper at my aunt's tonight at six?" "I'll run this by my folks and call you from their house." So, I put in an appearance early Saturday afternoon at mom's and dad's. They wanted me to join them at a restaurant Saturday evening. But they said that I could go to Vinnie's aunt's instead. "I suppose you wanna stay at the lake again tonight, too," dad guessed. I actually hadn't thought that far ahead. But it sounded like a good idea, so I asked if that was okay. "All right," was his stern reply, "but Sunday night you're back here." "You bet." I had previously met Vinnie's aunt and uncle. But, by 6:15, I had also been introduced to his mom, dad, and little sister. "I'm an only-brat," I declared. And then, "I met your niece, Kim, last month." The evening progressed smoothly, although the fish that Vinnie and his dad had caught from the lake earlier that afternoon did not make for my favorite supper. "Can I stay at Clark's tonight?" Vinnie asked around 8:30. The previous night, his aunt and uncle had authorized the sleepover. NOW he was asking his folks. Clever. "Is Clark gonna stay? Is it okay with him?" "Yes on both counts." "Well, we'll see you in the morning, then. Get what you need and you two can walk to his place before it gets any darker." I thanked them for the supper and off to my cabin we went. "There's a game on again tonight," he said. So we hurried to the tube. "You know, we can watch the game from the couch." "Oooh. That'll be cozy. Isn't it kinda small for the two of us?" "No. It unfolds into a bed. One of the first." "Cool." So there we are. Shirtless and barefoot. All kinds of comfortable. Side by side, watching the game, producing fish burps. The discussion which followed centered on pubes. I don't know HOW we got onto THAT subject. But he says, "I got so few, I couldn't even comb 'em." "And I'm blond, so I couldn't comb mine, either." "Betcha could." "Don't think so." "Got a comb?" I got one fom the bathroom and he began undoing my jeans. I helped him get them - and my skivvies - off by raising my butt and I was naked. "See. Just like this." And he began running the comb through my pubic hair. I tried to pay attention to the game but his combing made my willie rise to attention. "Let me try you." And there were two nude bodies on the sofa-bed. He was right! He didn't have much to comb. But his erect boyhood was substantial! Finding little to comb, I dropped it and he began using it again. He rested his head closer to my organ and said, "Back home, we put our mouths on each other." I pretended to be watching the game and said nothing, until..."Go ahead, if you want to." I twitched when some spit drooled down upon my schwantz, followed by a pair of warm, talented lips. No teeth. How DID he know how to do this so well? Up and down; up and down he sloshed. When his warm, moist mouth wasn't moving, his saliva-filled right hand was. Keeping up with the game was futile. I closed my eyes and focused on the pleasure at my prick. My butt-cheeks clenched in time with the deep-throating of my member. My pelvis rose when his hand slid down. I couldn't do this much longer. Wham! I didn't even warn him when I let loose, although I guess it wouldn't have mattered. Although what was happening to me was so very intense, Vinnie did not slow his motions. He knew I was cumming but was willing to swallow it all. I'm sure it wasn't easy to cope with my convulsions. It was great! And I told him so. It was breath-taking! "What can I do for you? Whatever you want. Just name it." "Do it to my ass." "What?" It wasn't so much that I hadn't heard him. I simply couldn't imagine that having something up your butt was pleasureable. "Lemme have it," he repeated. "I don't know if I can get it hard again." (But, as they say, it was fun trying. And, of course, the attempt was successful.) He was used to having other 13-year-old cocks up his ass. My 17-year-old equipment didn't go in as easily. "Doesn't that hurt?" "It'll go in if I relax." We first tried it with him on his back and his legs over my shoulders. That seemed to make him uncomfortable. (Maybe because I could see his face contort. But I COULD play with his dick really well that way.) The best position for my little friend was, what I guess they call "doggie style": With him on his hands and knees and me sticking my meat into him from behind him. This way I was able to enter him, assisted by my spitting down onto my thing to lubricate it when necessary. I had just cum, so I could do this for a long time (or so I thought.) As long as it made HIM feel good. So I pushed in and pulled out; pushed in and pulled out; drooling down every so often. He was actually getting off on this! He guided my hand around him to grab onto his hardened dick. Oh, I see. Jerk him off while he gets his ass fucked. Duh. Oh well, I'm blond. Now I get it. So my thrusting combines with his stabbing into my fist. This is too much! Just when I think I could do this all night, he starts to spasm. And I start to notice the warmth around my cock. Out flies his cum. Blast follows blast. But good ol' me: I continued jerking and plunging into his rear, not stopping for a second. I even heard his jizz splash onto the cushion louder than the sound of the TV. But what's this? In addition to the frenzy under me, I feel myself exploding into his poop chute, which weakens me onto his back. Then we collapsed into - and splattered - his spunk on the mattress and lay there, exhausted, for many minutes. Fortunately, we were able to take the cover off of the cushion and I intend to wash it. The numerous wet spots that soaked through, will dry such that staining and smelling should be minimal (I hope.) But Vinnie! Vinnie looked like he had spilled a full bottle on him - totally shiny and all! I led him to the bathroom. And, after I adjusted the water temperaure, I pulled him into the shower. Now, I know that while describing another escapade I said that there wasn't room for more than one person in the shower. But Vinnie and I pulled it off (showering together, that is.) We had to be extremely close. But that was okay. We barely had enough room to wash each other and turn around. The running water and soapiness, though, made our bodies slippery and, actually, pleasant when we frequently rubbed against one another. However, that only increased the poking that occurred. I got my rocks off twice in the past hour, and Vinnie just had a monstrous orgasm. But we were both STILL HARD! We squeezed carefully out of the stall, dried ourselves, and followed our pointed dicks onto the porch which extended over the lake. "How deep is it here?" "The porch sits on a wall that goes straight down under the water about four feet." "I wonder if fish like sperm?" And he then began jerkng off, aiming toward the water. Needing to attend to my own erection, I began whackng off, too. I thought he turned stupid on me when he said, "You know what happens when you keep doing this." (Sounded like something the blond should've said.) Then, "Let's see who shoots first." I was the "winner". I unloaded first. It was every bit as intense. I even giggled at my loss of balance as I shook with my release. But very little liquid dribbled out. "That's all?" he questioned. Then he trembled, stuck his midsection forward, and his own modest spurts flowed forth. "Guess I'm mostly dried up, too. Hope the fish weren't TOO hungry." "I'm done," I panted. "I think the word is 'spent'." "Me too," Vinnie echoed. We were so worn out that we didn't even share the same bed. Kim is the only morning-sex person I know. So I wasn't surprised Sunday A M when a subdued Vinnie didn't even accept my breakfast invitation again. I stayed long enough to see Vinnie and his father out in the boat, doing some last-minute fishing, saddened at the thought of him leaving later that day, but looking forward to his next time at the lake. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- POST SCRIPT - Maybe it's just my young age, but I don't know the answers to these questions: (1) What are "flames"? (which are referred to in remarks I've seen around other stories); and (2) Is getting stuff copyrighted a big deal? And how important are those disclaimers before stories? (If they're all worded so differently, can they really be all that important.) (I could probably find these answers elsewhere on the net but I'll opt for the personalization that might happen this way. I might also get these answers from "chatting", too, but I type so slowly that I don't engage in that activity, although I've been told that typing is "good therapy." Try telling that to a secretary.) And one last thing - I really don't know who these "Nifty Archive" people are. But, I take it that they're looking for financial support from frequent readers of the site, so I hope that happens. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------