Date: Sat, 18 Sep 2021 22:40:42 +0000 From: Ferdin Subject: Sleepy Giggles Disclaimer: This story is a complete work of fiction. Any similarities to real world events are purely coincidental. I do not condone engaging sexually with a real child. If erotic stories involving fictional minors are illegal where you live, please stop reading. Category: Gay, Adult Youth. Summary: A teenager coming to terms with who he likes is presented with the greatest opportunity that he could have possibly hoped for. Fifteen-year-old Patrick sprinted across the back garden in hot pursuit of his target. The brunette teen was gaining on the little rascal who appeared to have an unlimited supply of energy. Patrick's little brother, Luke, had one of his friends from his class over for a sleepover; blond-haired Oliver. The two nine-year-olds were flat-out all day, with football training in the morning, followed by an hour or so at the swimming pool, then another couple of hours out on their bikes at the local park. And now this game of tag. Luke, with brown hair to match his brother and a handful of freckles, darted across the garden in a bid to escape. "Gotcha!" exclaimed Patrick, reaching out and giving Luke a gentle jab on the shoulder. The brunette nine-year-old looked over to his friend and took off to catch him. Oliver yelped in delight, his blond hair, ordinarily covering his ears, dancing and waving in the air as he ran, joyful energy oozing out of every stride. "Tag!" shouted Luke, catching his friend. "Tag!" Oliver shot back. "Hey, we said no tag-backs!" "Did we? I don't think so." "Well... tag!" And the two boys broke down into fits of giggles as they constantly tagged each other, laughing at the ridiculousness of what the game had dissolved into. Luke and Oliver began roughhousing, wrestling each other to the ground and rolling about in the grass. "Boys, you'll get grass on your clothes!" Patrick warned, but he had a smile on his face. He certainly knew that Luke wouldn't care about his dark blue shorts and cyan T-shirt getting grass stains, and it looked as if Oliver also wouldn't care about his red shorts and T-shirt getting stained. *It's their parents' concern anyway.* The boys continued their play fighting, Luke pinning down Oliver onto his back and gazing into his vibrant, boyish face. The brunette grabbed both of Oliver's arms and interlocked his legs with his friend's legs, feeling the blond boy push against his force with all the might that a nine-year-old could muster. Luke seemed to have the upper hand, but to his demise he was only holding down the upper parts of Oliver's arms, leaving the blond's hands free. Thinking on his feet -- or on his bum, rather -- Oliver jabbed his fingertips into Luke's sides, digging into the boy's flanks. "EeekkKahahahah!" Luke squealed as his defenceless sides were tickled. He collapsed onto Oliver, their faces now just millimetres apart from each other. The rolling around on the grass continued, each boy taking a turn to pin down the other. Patrick saw all of this, drawn into how endearing both boys were in their rough play. "Dinner!" Michelle called out. "Coming, mum!" Luke shouted back and soon all three lads bounded into the house, with Luke and Oliver panting and sweating from the outdoor activities. "Goodness, I think you two need a shower." "But muuuuuuum, we had one this morning after football!" groaned Luke. "Just a quick one after dinner, then you can have some biscuits and sweets while we watch a movie, OK?" Luke and Oliver exchanged glances, before accepting Michelle's decision. "Fine. Can we watch that new Spider-Man movie? Pretty please?" "Certainly, darling." "Muuum, don't call me *that.*" Luke whined. Michelle smiled and tousled her son's hair. Patrick helped her serve out dinner; lasagne with garlic bread. A family favourite. "This is so good!" Oliver commented happily. "Thank you!" "Our pleasure," beamed Michelle. The family got stuck into their food, with Jonathan arriving late. "Sorry, got caught up in traffic after that callout from work... ahhh, how is my boy with his cheeky friend! Did you enjoy the pool?" He gave Luke a quick hug as he kissed the top of his son's head. "It was good! We jumped off the highest diving board! Ten metres!" "Amazing! You love them big heights, don't you?" They finished up dinner, and Michelle reminded Luke and Oliver that they still needed that shower. Reluctantly, both nine-year-olds headed upstairs. "I can do the rest," Jonathan assured Patrick as the fifteen-year-old put the last of the plates in the dishwasher. "You sure?" "Of course! You go get that movie ready," he smiled. Patrick obliged and got Spider-Man: Far From Home ready on the TV, before taking out the custard creams, smarties and chocolate buttons from the cupboard. With nothing else to do, his mind wandered upstairs, and his legs followed suit. "Oh, hi Oliver," said Patrick as he nodded his head towards the blond boy. "Hey." "You waiting on Luke to...," The bathroom door flung open. "Shower's free," announced the brunette nine-year-old, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Patrick's legs started to wobble, or perhaps it was his own imagination. "You need any help with the shower?" he gestured nervously towards Oliver. "Um, I think I can figure it out on my own." "Fair enough," the teen flustered. *Of course a nine-year-old doesn't need help in the shower. Now I look stupid.* "Just remember to pull the lever forward, then twist to either hot or cold." "OK, thanks." Oliver closed the shower door behind him. *And he didn't even take off his clothes before he closed the... wait, why would I think like that?* Patrick's eyes wandered to his brother, who just had a pair of navy briefs on. For the past couple of years, Patrick was becoming more aware of his feelings for younger boys, and some boys would linger in his thoughts for longer than he'd ever admit to. Strangely enough, Luke wasn't one of them. Standing there with his athletic demeanour, slender legs and skinny tummy, Luke should have been captivating Patrick's imagination but he just wasn't. *Maybe it's cause I'm his brother?* The same couldn't be said for Oliver. The blond boy walked out of the bathroom, again with nothing but a towel to cover him, and Patrick felt those butterflies flutter in his stomach. The dampness still sticking to Oliver's smooth skin, the moisture exaggerating the silkiness of his tummy, his cute little belly button forming a shallow innie, his blond hair all over the place from drying it off. *This is what angels look like,* the teen marvelled as he felt his eyes glue onto the svelte figure that walked innocently towards the bedroom. "Um, may I...," "Oh sorry, I'm blocking the way," mumbled Patrick as he awkwardly shifted away from Oliver's path. To his disappointment, the nine-year-old closed the door before changing into his pyjamas. *Dammit, now I can't see him changing without making it obvious.* Accepting defeat on this occasion, he sauntered over to his own room and checked his phone for messages. One of his friends was at a house party. *Probably indulging in some underage drinking.* Patrick would have liked to have been there, but a part of him felt lucky that he was in the company of Oliver. Throwing his phone away, he paced over to Luke's bedroom door and tried to listen in to what the boys were saying. "Did you see that new Fortnite skin? It's so cool!" "I wish we could play as Thanos again, that was epic." "Imagine if they just put all of the Avengers in Fortnite." "Oh that'd be so overpowered." There was something about listening to boys chat to each other about random topics that instilled those fluttery feelings in Patrick. He always prayed for the youngest boys at school to sit near him on the bus, not just because he enjoyed looking at their cute faces, but also because he could sit there and listen to boys talk about things all day. Not wanting to be standing right at the door when it was opened, Patrick forced himself to dander downstairs and into the living room. "They should be down soon," Patrick said to Michelle, and before she could even get a word in, the pounding of excited boy feet reverberated around the house. The nine-year-olds were both clad in short-sleeved pyjama tops and shorts, with Oliver's shirt just a little short on him. "You don't need to run down the stairs, boys!" Michelle shouted. "Sorry," Oliver said shyly. "Is it ready?" asked Luke. "Yep! Grab whatever sweets and stuff that you want, then I'll start it," said Patrick. He assumed his normal position on the sofa, a small voice in his head telling him to sit beside Oliver. Fortunately, Patrick didn't have to move at all, as Oliver wandered into the living room and plopped his slim body right beside the teenager, with Luke on Oliver's other side. "You three OK there?" Michelle asked. "Yeah," they said collectively. "Superhero movies aren't really my thing, so I'll be upstairs if you need me. Have fun!" Patrick started the movie once his mum left the room, but watching Tom Holland act as Spider-Man was the last thing on his list of priorities. His eyes lingered on Oliver, who slowly leaned in towards the teen as the movie played. Although Patrick had picked up on it earlier, right now he was really captivated at how young Oliver looked. He would have guessed that the blond tyke was about seven, instead of nine. As the boys munched on their sweets, Oliver's jaw and cheeks pressed against Patrick's arm, massaging the teen with a continual motion. In his mind, Patrick was going wild; he had never been this close to a boy before (apart from Luke, obviously) and, although he knew that it'd be something that he'd enjoy, he never envisioned how electric and soothing it was to have a bundle of boy right next to him. He did what came natural and lifted his right arm to cuddle Oliver. As the blond boy finished his sweets, he snuggled more onto Patrick's lap, his warm head resting on the teen's thighs. With his heart fluttering, Patrick felt the slow, methodical boy breaths moving up and down in Oliver's tummy, shifting his arm slightly in the process. The blond's short pyjama shirt had inadvertently lifted up while he slowly collapsed on the sofa, and Patrick was drawn to the flash of tummy that was now clearly visible, just a couple of centimetres from his hand. The teen's head was racing with thoughts and his hand started to twitch nervously. *I could just stroke his tummy so easily. It's... holy fuck, it's right there!* This was everything that Patrick could have hoped for, yet he couldn't bring himself to do anything. *He'll think I'm weird... but his shining hair! I could just... run my hands through it... that would be nice, very nice.* But he didn't have the courage, not wanting to disturb cute little Oliver. So he kept his hands to himself for now, not ceasing his gaze on Oliver's delicious, slim tummy. He was hypnotised by it breathing in and out, and he soaked in the little boy breaths that vibrated onto his thighs and through his body. "Oh my GOD, how did that...," exclaimed Luke. Patrick was so caught up in being transfixed by Oliver that he didn't even notice that the movie was at its very last fighting scene. The nine-year-olds were glued to the TV screen, Luke being a little more animated than Oliver. As the movie approached the credits, Oliver sat up, his blond hair brushing past Patrick's chest and arm, sending a hint of a pleasant shudder through the teen's torso. "OK, I think it's time for bed," the fifteen-year-old announced. Oliver looked like he had saucers around his eyes as his weary head turned to Patrick. Luke had eaten perhaps twice as many sweets as his friend and the excess sugar showed in the brunette boy pacing around the carpet, but Patrick knew that his brother would eventually collapse. The boys made their way upstairs. The family had set out a mattress on the floor of Luke's bedroom for Oliver to sleep on. "Did you enjoy the movie?" Michelle asked as she popped her head into the bedroom. "Yeah, it was very good!" smiled Luke. "Yep, thank you for letting me stay," Oliver said sweetly. "Our pleasure. Now you boys get some rest!" As she closed over the door, Michelle looked over to Patrick. "Thank you for staying with them." "No worries, honestly!" "It warms my heart, it really does. Because you could be out drinking or partying. I'm glad you still find the time for your brother." She let out a wide yawn. "Anyway, I guess we should head to bed." "Yeah," Patrick laughed nervously. "Goodnight!" But as the teen wandered into his bedroom, going straight to bed was one thing that he knew wasn't going to happen. *** Over three hours had passed since the nine-year-olds went to bed, although Patrick knew that they had only been properly sleeping for the best part of two hours. He couldn't help but listen to what was probably an intense game of Fortnite, as giggling and childish cursing travelled from one bedroom to the next. The teen also guessed that the two of them were roughhousing at one point, because he heard the floor bang on a few occasions. No cries for help, which Patrick took as a sign that nobody was hurt. It was a clammy evening. The fifteen-year-old was dressed in just his pyjama shorts, and in between playing games from his Steam account and browsing through Twitter, he just couldn't sleep. Nothing he did would force Oliver out of his mind; the way his angelic blond hair nestled around his ears, the way his belly button made that shallow dent in his tummy, his piercing blue eyes, his skinny arms and legs. Patrick had seen a lot of boys in his life, but Oliver may well have been the most attractive boy he had ever laid eyes on. Patrick pondered the idea that he had just conjured in his head, something that initially sounded completely insane but the more he went over it, the more tempting it was. *Bruh, this is crazy. Oh but imagine if I actually did it!* He sat there, half paying attention to a meme about PragerU on his feed, and contemplated his next move. His fingers twitching nervously, Patrick set his phone down and dragged his legs out of bed. Exercising extreme caution as to not wake everyone up, he tiptoed over to his bedroom door and slowly creaked it open. Creeping down the hallway, Patrick was greeted with the sight of Luke's bedroom door being slightly ajar. *I won't have to make any noise opening it!* Arms trembling, legs feeling like jelly, Patrick was a wreck. It was now or never. He gulped, took one step forward and gently pushed the door with two fingers. The teen had been standing in the dark for long enough to allow his eyes to adjust, so he had a surprisingly decent view of the promising sight; Oliver was fast asleep, his arms resting by his head and his light duvet halfway down. His pyjama shirt exposed a few centimetres of tummy, the hem of the shirt on the line of the boy's belly button. As he inched closer, Patrick could make out more details. Oliver's feet were just poking out of the bottom of the duvet, his little bubble toes swaying as he slept. The teen could make out faint boy snores. Nothing like regular snores, just cute sleepy boy sounds oozing out of Oliver's small nose. Once again, Patrick felt himself being hypnotised by the breathing tummy. It looked so soft, so slim, so... delicious. *I can't believe I'm this close to touching his tummy! How the fuck am I doing this?!* He knelt down beside the mattress, gazed upon the adorableness that lay before him... and touched Oliver's tummy. It was a slight touch. The tip of his finger barely made any contact with the blond boy's skin. Patrick immediately snapped his head to the side, checking to see if Oliver woke up. No response. The boy was still out cold, as if nothing had happened. Patrick's heart was beating like a drum set in a rock band, his brain going wild with thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong. The boy still slept, and Patrick took a deeper plunge. He lowered his shaking hand down to Oliver's tummy and touched the exposed skin. This time, Patrick kept his fingertip in place, planting it at the very centre of the exposed patch. For a solid minute, the teen absorbed the slow, methodical tummy breaths, the sensation of feeling the warm skin shooting up his arm. Still no reaction from Oliver. Patrick pressed the other fingers of his hand onto Oliver's tummy, making a line from the hem of the shirt to the top of the duvet. This time, he swished his fingers several millimetres on each side, softly fondling the centre patch of exposed skin. He felt the boy's tummy jump and flutter ever so slightly and Oliver's little snores sounded heavier for a few seconds. Scared of waking the boy up, Patrick stopped himself. *Oh my fuck, I just felt his tummy bounce when I caressed it! Oh fuck, this is amazing.* Having been treated to that initial taste, there was no way Patrick could leave now. He moved his tickling hand to one side of Oliver's tummy and glided his fingertips along the exposed patch. The warm, smooth skin felt like a fresh breeze from heaven, electrifying the nerves on Patrick's hand. The teen's fingertips shuddered along with the wriggling of Oliver's tummy, the sensitive skin quivering in ticklish pulses as the boy's sleepy breathing picked up in pace. The faintest of giggles could be heard from Oliver's face as his arms joined in on the slight twitching. Patrick performed several gentle strokes along the exposed tummy, each time he soaked in the minute vibrations of quiet tummy laughs. Oliver wasn't making nearly enough noise to be heard outside of a two-metre radius, let alone to wake everyone else up, but it was enough to signal to Patrick that the soft caresses were cascading light waves of ticklishness through his sleeping body. *I wonder what he's dreaming about. Maybe I'll ask him tomorrow. "Hey Oliver, what did you dream about while I tickled you in your sleep?"* Getting more adventurous, Patrick pinched the hem of Oliver's shirt and gradually lifted it up past his small nipples. He took a moment to marvel at the skinny boy torso on display, bobbing up and down in slow breaths. The teen took his hand and descended it onto the boy's stomach, landing his fingers like a ship landing on another planet. He felt Oliver's tummy quiver again under his fingertips as the nine-year-old sharpened his breath for a second or two. Still not believing his luck, Patrick sent his hand down a journey of exploration, traveling across the sensitive valley of the blond's slim tummy and chest. The fifteen-year-old slid his hand along the svelte pecs and ribcage, before gently dragging it across as much of the delicious tummy as he could. The feeling of cusping Oliver's smooth tummy was nothing like Patrick had ever experienced before, pulses of arousal pumping through him. He switched between slowly circling Oliver's tummy and fingering the shallow belly button. The boy's breathing rate had increased, his tummy fidgeting and wriggling more as it was caressed and fondled. A vague smile appeared on his face with little giggles spurting out of his mouth. Oliver's legs began to fidget, twisting the duvet cover by a little bit as the tickle waves travelled down to his thighs, knees and feet. Patrick looked down towards the bed and was in awe at how Oliver's feet wiggled about. *Oh my gosh, his wee feet look so fucking adorable!* He shifted down to Oliver's feet and ran his fingertips down the length of the bottom of each foot. They danced in response, each touch of the sensitive feet causing them to squirm under Patrick's hands. Oliver's giggles were getting slightly more audible now as ticklish energy was shot through his feet and vibrated through his legs. Patrick gave the feet a few more gentle strokes, transfixed at them twitching in his hands, before moving back up to the tummy. Oliver's arms had wriggled up past his head, giving Patrick another idea. The teen used one hand to pinch the left sleeve of the nine-year-old's shirt and the other to sneak into the underarm. He drummed his fingers into the sensitive crevice, feeling the smooth, slightly sweaty boy pits. Oliver giggled louder than he had done all night, a sharp "emephhhphp" in his deep sleep. Patrick did the same on the other side, his fingertips eating at the super sensitive underarms, his hand begging for that electricity of silky-smooth boy skin. Realising that this technique was too awkward, the teen sneaked his hands up Oliver's shirt and landed them on the blond's underarms. He wriggled his fingers like he was digging for treasure, and Oliver began giggling like a madman in his sleep. "Eehehefefeeheehe," the boy blurted, still managing to keep his mouth shut. He shook his head from side to side and flailed his arms as he was tickled in his sleep. As much as he would have loved to brush his hungry hands and fingers up against the little sensitive underarms for even longer, Patrick knew that he couldn't afford to wake up his brother's friend. Retracting his hands, his eyes were cast back to Oliver's tummy. Once again, he lowered his hand to place a finger on the belly button, turning it around as he felt the scrumptious navel under his touch. Patrick wandered his hand down to the lower tummy, scurrying his fingers on the sensitive valley. Oliver's soft, barely audible giggles was music to Patrick's ears, as the fifteen-year-old lined his hand up with the nine-year-old's V-line and squeezed, pressing ticklish energy down through the blond boy. Oliver jumped, flinching his body as the V-line tickling hit him like an electric shock. Patrick was having an absolute ball, his hand danced on the skinny tummy like there was no tomorrow. He sighed and moaned under his breath, still careful as to not wake anyone up. The feeling of the buttery-smooth tummy was overwhelming the teen with waves of pleasure that he never previously imagined were possible. *I knew it would be good, but I never considered that it would feel this fucking amazing, oh *Lord.** As he kept up the gentle fondling of Oliver's tummy, Patrick's curiosity reached the duvet cover, and the desire to lift it off grew with every second. He assumed that Oliver would be wearing pyjama shorts, but he could still have a decent go at caressing the legs. Finishing off the tummy touches, Patrick dragged the duvet off the boy. *OK hold on, what the fuck, what the actual flying fuck?!* Oliver wasn't wearing his pyjama shorts. He wasn't wearing anything all all underneath the duvet. Him and Luke must have wrestled them off each other, or maybe they dared each other to strip. Whatever it was, Patrick was being treated to much more than he had even hoped for. Sitting there right in front of him was Oliver's little penis and balls. Completely hairless and uncut, it looked so inviting. If Patrick's hands weren't trembling before, they were definitely trembling now. Slowly, almost as if he was trying to stop himself, he descended his hand down to the little pecker and touched it. Just one touch. *Jesus fucking Christ.* Another touch. Another few touches. Soon the teen was ever so gently caressing the small, hairless dick, feeling the little tube slide about in his grasp. Patrick was utterly enamoured with the nine-year-old dick resting on his hand. He brushed his knuckles past the inner thighs, switching from sending long, soft caresses down each thigh and slowly squeezing and jiggling the boy-cock. Oliver's legs were jittering about like crazy, as if they were under attack by an army of ants. The giggles were more pronounced when Patrick skittered his fingertips down the length of the inner thighs, the skinny boy legs twitching all over the place. When the teen had his hand on the dick, there was a different noise, not giggling but... something. Patrick was too captivated to care what that something could be. His mind was totally focused on the gentle squeezes and touches of the sensitive little pecker, bobbing through his fingers like a fish in the water. As a final tactic, Patrick ran his fingertips along Oliver's V-line and up to his belly button, tickling the centre of the stomach for a few seconds, before traveling back down and softly gripping the boy's pecker and feeling every inch of it. Patrick felt his own groin area liven up as his senses were overloaded with all of the soft, smooth tummy and dick touches. He soaked in as much pleasure from Oliver's supple tummy, his shallow belly button and his hairless pecker, which was now growing a little as Patrick felt it more. He touched as much of the nine-year-old's exposed skin, his hungry hand feeding off the scrumptious boy body, while Oliver twitched, giggled and wriggled in his sleep. Patrick took one last touch of Oliver's belly button. He would've given anything to be here all night and feed on Oliver's resting body, but circumstances forced him to stop it there and run to the bathroom to relieve himself. Keeping as silent as possible, Patrick dragged the duvet back over Oliver and tiptoed out of the room. *** Luke was the first of the nine-year-olds to wake up. He looked over to Oliver and saw that he was still fast asleep. Patrick walked past the door, still slightly ajar, and peered in. "Did you sleep OK?" "Yeah, I slept OK. Oliver's still asleep," Luke pointed out as he stepped out of bed. Patrick noted that his brother was wearing his pyjama shorts and shirt, meaning that only Oliver had somehow lost his shorts that night. Spying the room, the fifteen-year-old noticed the shorts in question at the corner of the room. He still had one more trick up his sleeve. "Wanna wake him up?" "Um, how?" Patrick whispered something into Luke's ear, and a grin formed on the face of the younger boy. "Remember, you hold his arms down, OK?" Luke nodded and knelt down beside Oliver's head. Grasping his wrists and keeping them firm on the mattress, he gestured to Patrick. Without hesitation, the teen flew his hands into a frenzy, attacking up and down Oliver's flanks and into the armpits. The sleepy giggles turned to laughter, and after a solid twenty seconds, the blond boy woke up. "HehehHAHAHAHHA STOOOPPPPP," he yelled. Patrick obliged and removed his hands. "You're a deep sleeper, aren't you?" "Hehe, well I did have a weird dream last night." "What was it?" asked Luke. "There was this, um, monster with tentacles? And it was tickling me. But, like, gentle tickles. And I kinda liked it." "Huh, weird." Patrick didn't comment on the dream. He had another idea. "Time for you to get out of bed, Oliver." He knew where this was going. "Yep, I'll... oh, wait, uh... my, um, shorts are over there," he mumbled nervously, feeling his face redden. "Over there? How the hell did that happen?" "We played truth or dare last night. I dared Oliver to take off his shorts for the whole night." "Well then, I didn't know you were that brave," said Patrick, stroking Oliver's forehead. After last night, he wasn't as afraid of showing his affection for boys as he once was. *Maybe I should look for some babysitting jobs, who knows where that'll lead to!* "Yeah...," muttered Oliver. As quickly as he could, the boy leaped out of his mattress and bounded to collect his shorts, the little cock and hairless balls jingling as he moved. After scrambling his shorts on, Oliver was desperate for an excuse to leave. "Uh, I need to brush my teeth." "Hey, it's OK, Oliver," reassured Patrick as he put his arm around the blond boy. "If I told you all the embarrassing things I've done over the years, what you did last night would seem incredibly tame. It's just a bit of fun, I understand." That put a smile on Oliver's face, and that day Patrick truly learned that making little boys happy was the most joyful thing he could ever experience.