Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2019 20:14:24 +0000 From: h6xn3l+b7i9vbgm21kig@guerrillamail.com Subject: Robin's Adventures ? Part 14 | G My little brother woke me up the next morning after Jason's second sleep-over. "Mom's making pancakes," Chris said with quiet excitement. I yawned, and stretched, while my 13-year-old boyfriend stirred around me. One of his arms was draped over my slender hip bone, and his hand was buried in my dry cloth diaper, clutching my hairless junk. Wriggling free, I joined Chris in the bathroom, where one of my morning chores was to get him out of his wet diapers and into the shower. His 10th birthday was the following week, and he was ashamed to still wet the bed. Unfortunately, that was a condition of boys in my mom's family. Almost universally late bloomers, we were also deep sleepers. I'd outgrown my bedwetting 3 years before, at Chris' age, but he was taking a little longer. To make him feel at ease, Jason and I would wear diapers during sleepovers, so he would know it was no big deal. When Chris pulled off his plastic pants, I saw he'd had another dry night, and we slapped skin. After I unpinned and unwrapped him, he jumped in the shower, just as Jason stumbled in. As my little brother washed, Jason and I removed each other's swaddling, then wrapped our arms in a slow, tingly hug. "Mmmmm...I loved last night, Robin," he whispered into my ear. "Yeah. I love you." I kissed his cheek through the the drape of collar-length, light brown hair. He moved his hand to encircle my slender waist, and leaned in to kiss me tenderly on the lips. Taller than me by 6 inches, his maturing boyhood quivered just bellow my belly button. Like the rest of me, my little pecker belonged more on an 11-year-old than an 8th-grader. But it was starting to rise with teenage passion. Just then, Chris stepped out of the shower to dry off, and we unfurled ourselves from one another. "How long 'til breakfast?" I asked as Chris was leaving the bathroom. "Mom said 20 minutes." We groaned. That gave Jason and me 10 minutes - just long enough to actually shower. So we took turns alone, to be on the safe side. Back in my room, Jason pulled on the soccer jersey I'd lent him the night before. His sleepover was a last-minute decision after his family came over for dinner, and he hadn't brought anything. Fortunately, I didn't need to loan him any of my little low-rise underpants, which were small on him, anyway. I'd borrowed a pair of his Fruit-of-the-Looms when his cum drenched my undies at his house during our first time together. Pulling the washed and folded briefs out of my underwear drawer, I tossed them to him. "Remember these?" I smiled. "That's convenient!" I threw on another over-sized FC Zurich shirt, which fell well below my undies, half-way down my thigh, and we skipped downstairs for breakfast. Though my parents were in sweats, my little brother and big sister were also in t-shirts and underpants. At home, we weren't big on clothing. Blueberry pancakes with syrup, cold glasses of milk, and happy, animated conversation filled the start for the day. Jason's mom called, and asked him to be him by 1:00 for some family thing. That gave us a couple of hours, and I suggested we go swimming. As my dad cleared the plates, my mom got up and brought back some suntan lotion. Back in the 70s, this was what passed for sunscreen. It didn't block the sun very well, but it helped prevent burning. "You boys put this on if you're going to be lying around outside." "Yes mom," I droned. Last time, we'd gotten vicious sunburns lying on the deck chairs, with only our undies to protect our junk. This time, I had a better idea. In my room, I pulled out my black swim league Speedo. "If we're not swimming naked, we may as well protect our dicks with bathing suits,"I pointed out the obvious. "You wear that for swim practice?" His eyes opened. "Yeah. Wanna see?" He nodded, obviously excited, and so I got into my closet, closing the door. Stripping my briefs and jersey, and pulling on my snug swim suit, I slowly opened the door, to extend a leg. I was making up some kind lame stripper fashion show, and kind of twirled out, before doing a catwalk and stopping in front of Jason. Turning one way, then the other, I showed off my sylphlike ass, firmly encased in black sketch fabric. "Whoa!" Jason's eyes roamed across my skinny hips, and then everything else bound inside my smooth wrapper. "So hot!" If his Jersey weren't concealing his briefs, I'm sure I'd have seen movement in his pouch. "Maybe you could fit into it?" I asked. "But what will you wear?" Opening a drawer, I pulled out one of the similar little swim suits I'd brought with me when we moved from Switzerland more than a year before. Unlike a racing suit, these had almost no fabric to cover the hips. I had almost outgrown them, though I still wore them under my wetsuit when surfing. I pulled off my Speedo, and handed it to Jason, while pulling on the much smaller blue-and-orange suit. His mouth dropped a little, and I could see desire in his eyes, so I wiggled my skinny hips. "Well? You gonna try that on?" Giving me a goofy smile, Jason pulled down his underpants, and stepped into my Speedo. At the top of his slender, yet muscular, tennis-toned thighs, we heard elastic popping. "I don't want to stretch out your swim team suit," he said, pulling off the Speedo. Thinking for a second, I pulled out my baggy Birdwell board shorts, which I wore at the beach in the summer. But they were also a snug fit for a boy 20 pounds heavier than me. "I'll just wear my undies, like last time." "Wait, first, try this on." I pulled out my other European bathing suit. He look skeptically at the little elastic bun gripper. "I don't care if you stretch this one out. It's ready for the trash heap. Try it on. Just for fun." Ready to give it a try, he stepped into the leg holes, and pulled the swim suit up. Jason got it to the top of his thighs when we heard little tearing sounds. Jason looked hesitantly at me, and I nodded. Pulling quickly, he snapped the very tight stretch cloth into place. His expression was a weird mixture of discomfort and pleasure. "Let's see," I said. Jason pulled off his jersey. His lean, muscular body strained against the tiny restraint. It looked even more like a bikini bottom, and his fully erect boyhood throbbed up, and out. His fat, five-inch pubescence poked nearly 2 inches above the waistband. I turned him around. His firm grapefruits were only half concealed by a triangle of material stretched from almost the top of his crack. I giggled. It was funny, and yet it was so sexy. Half-joking, he bent over, to jiggle his muscular buns. The green triangle slipped almost all the way into his ass cheeks, as Jason accidentally self-wedgied. "That's hot," I said quietly. "So fucking hot." My little love gun quickly swelled to its full 3 inches, as I traced fingertips along the leg seams climbing into Jason's crevice. Then I ran my fingertips down, tickling his bottom. Sighing, he rose and turned. With a very hungry look, he took me in his arms. Sometimes it sounds like I'm describing a giant, though he was only 5 feet tall. But I was around 4 and a half, and his athletic arms wrapped me more snugly than the unyielding nylon clasping my dick and nuts. Squeezing my satiny bum with both hands, Jason pressed his lips to mine with forceful ardor. I moaned into his mouth, as my imprisoned little poker pressed against his thigh, and his raging fuck stick drooled against me. Turning me around, he fell back on the bed, pulling me on top. He spread his legs wide, and I lay partially between his toned thighs. "I love you so much Robin," he whispered. "I want you to fuck my dick." "I'll fuck your dick hard, Jason." With my elbows planted between his arms and chest, and my hand holding his shoulder blades, I started rubbing my quivering pickle against stomach. Our tongues stabbed and played, and I ground my slender hips harder. Moving away from his lips, I inched back, to press my hardness against his. Thrusting his pelvis back against mine, Jason's dampness pressed through the smoothly stretchy fiber coating my aching little throbber. Finding a rhythm, we ground against each other with smooth acceleration. Ramming with mounting fury we started to pant and sweat. Itchy friction built inside my tight Speedo. The tight horizontal ridge of Jason's elastic waistband rasped both our tender shafts. "Harder," he hoarsely whispered, and I plowed with a vengeance, huffing with short, desperate breaths. But in seconds I was done. I couldn't hold back the pre-fertile tide building behind and within my tiny balls. The heat of our mad, desperate digging mixed with the hot itchy fire bursting drily out my furious penis and into my tight banana hammock. Chewing back against my scream, my pulsating pleasure drove galaxies across my eyes, and I fell into the dark. Later, (some 20 minutes, according to Jason's reckoning), I emerged from the depths. He was coiled around me, once again in his snowy white underpants, gently kissing my cheek. I was naked, except for the arms and legs wrapped across me. Gazing into his rich, grey-green eyes, I apologized for blacking out again. He chuckled. "Oh man, that was so radical." "But you didn't orgasm yet," I complained. "Oh yeah. I came hard. Like really hard. You just didn't notice." I sighed, and kissed him gently on each eye lid. "Um, so...where are our swim suits?" Jason chuckled again. "Uh, I kinda drenched them. And you. So, I cleaned you up, and rinsed them out." He added, "I think I really stretched out your bikini." Tweaking his nipple, I retorted "It's only a bikini on you. And you should have it. You look sexy in it." He sighed, and smiled. "You are the fucking best boyfriend ever." "No, you are." We lay in a cuddle puddle for a few minutes, then we got ready to swim. Back to square one, I pulled on my black league speedo. Jason wore his bright, white briefs, which clung deliciously to him when wet. ================ The days slowly grew longer, and we had regular routines. For me it was surfing, junior high school, swim league, and sleepovers with Jason every weekend, at either his place or mine. Mark convinced me to join the diving team, which meant no competitions until I could pull together a program of six dives. But I still had to put in grueling 40-lap warm-ups twice a week before my platform work. Meanwhile, Jason throttled down his private tennis lessons to three afternoons a week, but had more yearbook commitments. Still, he managed to spend at least some after-school time with me. One day at lunch, he turned to me and asked if my parents had met with the principal about our ranks within the top ten of 8th-grade. They had, and they weren't happy. There were no AP classes in our small beach town junior high, and we weren't challenged. So the school wanted us to skip 9th grade and start high school the next year. For Jason, that could work. But since I was a very late bloomer, it would mean putting someone looking like a 6th-grader with 15-year-olds. "They're looking at alternatives," I said, staring at my sandwich. "Private school?" he asked warily. I nodded, just trying to put it out of my mind. Sensing I did't want to talk about it, he reminded me neither of us were free that afternoon. In a very low voice, told me he'd been having very naughty thoughts about me. Smiling, I whispered back, "What kind of naughty thoughts?" "The kind that are so naughty, I should be punished." He giggled. "OK, let's go to your place where I can discipline you, young man," I was giggling too. But also getting really aroused. He asked me to get my black speedo on my way over, which I did after classes let out. Then I raced to Jason's house, and was pretty sweaty by the time I rang his door bell. Grinning he lead me inside the otherwise empty house. I threw my pack on the floor of his room, then noticed four loose ropes leading from the corner posts of his Queen-sized bed. The duvet had been pulled back, and some towels laid out over the sheets. He had a plan, and I smiled with anticipation. Biting his lip shyly, he asked me to go down the hall and dress in the bathroom, before handing me a pair of long, black galoshes, and a little Halloween bandit mask. I shrugged, but brought my pack and the props to the bathroom. After pulling off my clothes, I had to readjust my swelling hairless cock for comfort in my snug racing suit. Leaving my socks on, I put on the rain boots, which rose to my knees. Donning the robber mask, I gazed in the mirror and laughed. I looked like some clownish version of an inquisitor. It was the Fischer Price My First BSDM Costume. I clopped back down the hall, closed the door to Jason's room, and tossed my things. Turning to his bed, I was only slightly surprised to find him spread eagle, with his feet tied to the foot posts, and one arm to a head post. He had one of those sleep-masks blindfolds resting just above his eyes. and a bandana gag tied just below his mouth. It was silly, and yet...sexy. As I closed the door, he gazed longingly. And his freely-offered helplessness gripped my heart. And I was hungry to see Jason's swollen mast straining against the tiny swim briefs I'd given him. "I've been very, very bad," Jason said, in a deep, quiet voice. "And I need to answer for it." Tying his free had with the remaining rope, I straddled his chest with my thighs and leaned down to whisper into his flowing, light brown locks. "What did you do, little boy?" I couldn't hold back my smile, nor could he stop grinning back. My rigid little tube thumped against my Speedo. "I day-dreamed through all of French class. I was thinking about sucking your sweet little dick." He smiled. "Are you saying my dick is small?" I demanded in mock outrage, pulling the gag up over his mouth, and his blindfold down. Before getting up, I gently pinched the surging head trapped in its stretchy nylon dungeon, making Jason squirm, and moan into his gag. Lightly twisting his nipples, I leaned down and promised him, "You will be sorry, you bad little boy." Remembering a living room decoration, I dashed upstairs and pulled a peacock feather from a corner vase, and hurried back. Gently lowering the feather under Jason's chin, I made him jerk his head around, and he giggled hysterically into his gag. Drawing the feather across to an armpit, I had him writhing away from the torment, then I repeated the process on the other side. Up and down his arms, then around his nipples, the feather made him convulse. As I delicately drew the plume around down his torso, Jason squirmed harder and made cackling moans. After tormenting his tummy, I tickled his hips, then made my way down his slender, yet muscular legs. When I caressed his inner thighs, Jason pulled against his restraints. I got up off the bed to stand at its base, and attack his helpless feet. As I drew the peacock feather across the bottom of one foot, he wailed into his gag, kicking uselessly with his other leg. Holding his foot by the heal, I slowly licked and sucked each of his toes, while lightly feathering his inner thighs. Jason was heaving, and I think I heard a muffled "No!" shriek out. Concerned I might be hurting him, I gently lowered his foot, and walked to the head of the bed to lower his gag. "Are you OK?" I asked. Smiling, almost out of breath, he heaved, "Yeah, I'm groovy. And you're so mean. But I have been so very naughty." Jason was smirking as I put the gag back. One day, I would learn about safe strategies. Until then, I would be very cautious about boundaries. "Then you need to be punished some more, bad little boy." I returned to the bottom of the bed, and lifted his other foot. Each succulent toe morsel yielded salt and moaning. While sucking all his tender digits had to yield, I caressed the feather up along Jason's inner thighs to the swollen nylon basket. Jason squealed, and his hips gyrated from my delicate torture. As his 5-inch boyhood strained up against the stretchy prison, the vertical tent was lifting the leg holes open, and I tickled the hairless plum confined in the swim brief pouch. Jason squealed again, and writhed. Kicking off the ridiculous galoshes and pulling off the mask, I crawled back on the bed, and straddled Jason's chest with my pert little ass facing his head. Leaning forward, I gently lifted Jason's now-torn swim briefs so his pulsating, drooling member could slap down against his lightly haired pubic area. The front panel of his shiny swim briefs was now soaked with his fragrant pre-honey. I let it snap back across his turgid fat staff. Two inches of pulsating prong reached above the waistband. It was so fucking hot, I was shivering with arousal, and my hairless 3 inches strained up the front of my snug, black Speedo. Stroking my nylon-imprisoned boy tube a few times, I knew I'd soon need relief. Reaching back, I pulled down Jason's gag, so he could pant and moan freely, then drew the feather lightly up and down his desperate boyhood, from his straining nylon-wrapped bag, to the tip of his oozing, circumcised head. Up and down, along the sides, I ticked his helpless pubescence. Thrusting his hips up against the plumage, he got no relief from my relentless assault, and he started pleading. "Robin! Please! I need to cum!!" Sliding my feet back under his arms and the pillows, I pushed my firm little butt cheeks up over his nose and blindfold, then back again, before lightly resting my little Speedo-strained bag on his lips. "You're noisy. You need to be gagged again." Jason kissed the shiny black barrier around my thrumming walnut sack, then licked my tiny testicles as they pulled with my pulse. It was my turn to moan, as he pulled my Speedo'd scrotum into his mouth. Sucking and licking, he soaked my racing briefs. I didn't want to cum yet, so I gently leaned forward, pulling out of his mouth, and returned to feather his trapped package just a little bit more. He was panting and begging harder now, and I wanted to drink him in. After sucking delicious pre-cum off the feather's tip, I put it to the side and leaned down to his furiously quaking meat. Gently cupping his full nut sack with my fingertips, I lightly palmed the length of the diamond hardness cinched inside his tiny, shiny swim briefs. He groaned, then squealed and I wrapped my lips around his drooling love nozzle. Sucking down more flavorful goo, I firmly clasped his hammering stalk, and slowly stroked its length through the stretchy wrapper. "Yes! Thank you, Robin! Thank you!" With firm lip suction around his mushroom head, I pressed my tongue into his pee-hole, and then around his passionate cap. He moaned loudly, and I stroked my fingers up and down his shaft harder. I could feel a familiar pulling, and I new it wouldn't take long. Just a few more strokes and Jason screamed my name, as the first hot jet of rich Jason Juice hit the back of my mouth. His back arched, and his hips and torso lifted us both off of the bed. Clutching his pounding love pistol to let him fuck my hand, I pulled my lips off his pastry nozzle because of his raging thrusts. I was riding a jism-breathing, bucking bronco. At last his pounding retreated, and his groans died away, leaving him to catch his breath. Wiping boy honey from my face into my mouth, I leaned in to tongue swab the pools of goo covering his pubic area. Swallowing all of the sweet, salty savory, carroty syrup, I turned around and cleaned his tummy and chest, then curled around my sweaty, gorgeous prisoner. "That was...I don't know, Robin. Maybe that was hardest I've ever cum?" "I guess you should be punished more often," I told him in a sultry, smiling voice. Almost getting back into character, he said, "I'm thinking dirty things again, Robin." "Tell me, little boy," I whispered in mock sternness. "I'm thinking about you fucking my naughty butt." And he kind of giggled. "Oh, then maybe your naughty butt needs to be punished." "Oh yes. Yes it does," he nodded vigorously, grinning in his blindfold. Getting off the bed, I grabbed some scissors from Jason's desk and put them on the bedside table for later. Then, I untied his feet, and climbed back to gently fold his knees against his abs and slender, yet well-defined chest. There was enough rope to rewarein his spread legs with the bed posts, and I supported his raised rear with a couple of spare pillows. "Robin," Jason whispered. "I've been so bad, you should spank me?" "Um, really?" I asked. Jason had been viciously spanked by his father over the years, and I was surprised he'd want me to. Further, no one in my family had ever lifted a hand against me, though I had seen a couple of friends have their asses tanned back in Zurich. It wasn't pretty. "Yes, please," he said quietly. "But not hard. You're the only person I'd ever trust to spank me." He then got back into his role, smiling, "And I really have been very, very bad." "OK, you bad little boy, I'm going to spank you. But on your bare little bottom." Most of his firm, round globes were uncovered anyway, as the tiny European swim briefs only covered a small triangle of his creamy bottom. Grabbing the waistband in front and back, I wrenched forward, dragging his leg holes into his divide. Gritting his teeth, Jason groaned, and I heard fabric ripping with the savage wedgie. I could see past his nylon-crushed love bag that Jason's cock was fully engorged once again. Sitting on my heels with my knees under helping to brace Jason's ivory moon, I drew my hand back and lightly slapped one of his cheeks, then the other. "You can go harder," Jason whispered. So I did. Slapping one of his buttocks then the other, I slow-roasted his buns. Telling him he was a very bad little boy, I spanked and spanked, slowly building a rosy fire all across his tender, clenching grapefruits. He moaned harder, rocking his quivering butt. At last I stopped, and asked him if he was truly sorry for being a naughty boy. Nodding and gasping "yes, I am sorry, Robin." Then he smiled mischievously. "But my little hole still needs to be punished." Grinning, I reached over for the scissors. Carefully lifting the material stretched across his taint, I snipped through the nylon restraint. Quickly unfurling, the little swim suit became a belt around Jason's belly, baring his unprotected divide. Picking up the feather once again, I drew its plum down the length of his crack. It's a good thing I'd used climbing knots on his ankles, because his legs kicked involuntarily, and he wailed at the delicate intrusion. Smiling at learning a new way to drive Jason wild, I tickled up and back a few times, before feathering the bottom of his tightly straining balls. Tossing the feather, I leaned in to lightly kiss his warm, glowing bum. He sighed and breathed harder, as I gently loved his boy bottom. Tracing my tongue tip down the ridge dividing his tight, smooth sack, I delicately ran my finger tips from his well-spanked bottom, to the cleft of his knees and back. Jason's thick pole pulsated, and a new slender thread of glistening syrup fell from his tip. It was all so deeply sexy, I could barely resist pulling my trembling pecker out of my snug Speedo, and pounding it until it bled. But I wanted to cum inside Jason, and so I ran my tongue down his tender valley. I should have remembered to bring baby oil, so saliva would have to do. Burying my face in Bun Valley, I was pleased to smell Ivory Soap. My boyfriend - my best friend - knew I preferred a clean ass, and must have showered before I arrived. Licking round and round his tightly coiled aperture, I slowly pressed my tongue tip in. Jason moaned as my wet mouth opened his quivering, bald starfish. At last, I thought he was wet enough, and I raised up again. I was going to add some more spit to my little prong, but noticed more clear lust drooling from Jason's red cap. After slicking myself with his pre-cum, I used my fingers to guide my little wand against Jason's back door. My bald boy penis was, at that time, skinny, and I knew I could slip in without hurting Jason. I pressed steadily, but gently, until my head popped within the rubbery ring. Jason gasped, then sighed. "Fuck my naughty hole, Robin!" Sliding forward, I pressed as far as my 3 inch throbber would go, and Jason moaned. His love tunnel wrapped me like a hot, buttered glove. Gasping, I pulled back. It felt so fucking good. I tried desperately, vainly to go slowly. But my hips pounded with a rhythm all their own, slapping against Jason's firm, muscular melons. Jason's arms and legs pulled helplessly against their restraints, and we both moaned harder. "Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me Robin!" "Uhhh! I'm fucking your naughty little bottom!" Neither of us lasted long. As he groaned, Jason's bottom clenched around me. I felt the heat build behind my nuts as they pulled into my body. Then the detonation of itchy, white fire pulsed drily out of my penis, and through my body. I screamed as two or three waves of pleasure washed across me, blinding me light, and I fell forward onto Jason and into darkness. As I drifted back into the light, I stirred. My shrinking little peter had popped out of Jason, and he was kissing the side of my face. "Hey, you're back." "How long, this time?" "Oh, a minute or so. That was pretty fucking intense," he said quietly. "You're telling me!" After laying a gentle kiss on his lips, I sat back on my heels, to lightly rub Jason's rosy bottom. "Hey Robin? My feet are starting to go to sleep. Can you untie me, please?" "Oh shit!" I quickly unbound my handsome tennis god, apologizing the whole time. Getting up to stretch, he chuckled. "Don't worry, man." He took off his blindfold, and unknotted the unused gag. He looked down at the ruined swim briefs, hanging like a tiny loin cloth over his junk. Laughing again, he gazed at me "Maybe next time we end up in a different position, though?" I grinned. Next time!