Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction, a fantasy actually.  It is not based on any real persons, living or dead.  It does contain graphic descriptions of sexual activity.  In most countries of the world you must be 18 years old to read it, so stop now if you are not 18 years old.  And if you are offended by vivid descriptions of sexual activity between boys and men, do not continue reading.

 

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If you enjoy this story then by all means contact the author of this story, Robert Lawrence, at richt4t1958@gmx.com. Feedback is most welcome, but please don't send any indecent images or abusive mails. Those will immediately be binned and the sender will be blocked. Friendly comments will be welcomed and you will always get a response.

 

Thanks to J for the editing.

 

Richard Darby Stories presents...

 

Pennsy Puppies.

 

A 2 part story written by...

 

Robert Lawrence.

 

Chapter 1 The Pool

 

Pennsy Estates was a large middle class apartment community in the suburbs of a prominent East Coast city in North America.  And during the 1970's it was a beehive of activity, with families coming and going constantly, fathers (and a few mothers) being transferred and relocated seemingly at random, always having to drag the children with them.  Damn kids!

 

Among the newest arrivals were three single guys, just in from the West Coast.  For financial reasons, they shared a two bedroom apartment, although two of the young men (Robert and John) were lovers, and Christian was a very good friend.  Robert was by default the head of the household because he was 28 years old and had the best job, albeit a commuting nightmare to the nearby city.  John and Chris, who were both 21, had found jobs in the local community.  John worked at a home improvement chain store, and Chris worked at a factory making car parts.  Chris loved cars and had driven his cherished Camaro all the way out from California.

 

The state they were living in had some antiquated laws, one of which was that for each person on a rental lease, the unit had to have a bedroom.  (Exceptions were made for married couples who could occupy a single bedroom and children under the age of three.)  For example, the trio would have technically required a third bedroom, so Christian's name was not on the lease and did not "officially" live there.  The actual fact of the matter was that Robert and John slept together on the king size water bed in one bedroom (which broke several rules simultaneously, both criminal and of the apartment community), and Chris occupied the other bedroom.

 

But the unit was not cramped for space, since it also had a den area which opened off the living room, and which the guys claimed, to anyone with a prying question, was actually the "third" bedroom.  In addition there was a dining area, a well outfitted kitchen and a balcony.  Built on a hillside, all the buildings in the complex were three story brick affairs, where the second floor was at ground level on the parking lot side, but truly a second floor on the other side.  The balcony of Robert's apartment overlooked a lawn, then a cleared dirt area, then a densely wooded area, through which ran an active railroad track, and beyond which another half mile was a community lake.

 

Memorial Day was an important day in East Coast USA because it signaled the beginning of summer. The temperature could get into the 80's or 90's early in May, but by God, the swimming pools were never open for business until Memorial Day.  (Apparently this decree was in the Bible somewhere.)  Our boys, being from California one and all, snickered at such a thing, since where they came from you could go swimming in April if you wanted.  But they also were smart enough not to go to the community swimming `hole' on opening day, figuring correctly that the crowd would make having any private fun impossible.  So they waited until the next weekend.

 

John had to work that Saturday, so Chris and Robert decided to check out the action after noon.  Robert brought his super 8mm movie camera along.  Besides capturing interesting images, it always attracted any of the youngsters who wanted to be movie stars.  Robert was of average height (5'10") and build for a 28 year old male, but he was beginning to bald already from the forehead.  His glasses, moustache and collar length hair made him look to some like a high school teacher or cop.  Chris was slim and good looking at 5'9", but his distinguishing characteristic was that he was hairy, front and back.  Not a matted, gorilla-like covering but furry nonetheless.

 

Robert and Chris found some poolside chairs and scoped out the scene.  Several dozen young males were doing what boys do in swimming pools splashing and dunking each other, swimming underwater between unsuspecting girls' legs, yelling, all that stuff.  A single female `lifeguard' (pool attendant) was frequently blowing a whistle and wagging her finger at offenders, and they were taking as much notice of her instructions as of the chaise lounges around the edges of the pool.  The community pool was large, even having a high and low diving board at one end, so it was a lot of water and a lot of bathers to keep track of.  But danger was certainly warded off by the sign at the gate to the facility requiring that any children under 12 must have adult supervision.

 

After fifteen or twenty minutes, Robert and Chris shared notes on what they had seen.  They agreed on several boys who it would be nice to get to know.  Later they would find out that their names were Robby, Theron and Jerry.  Jerry was a little boy, maybe 10, but anyone could see he was mischievous as hell and up for anything.  Theron was maybe 13, blonde but still with a little baby fat around his middle.  His companion it seemed was Robby, possibly 14, but already possessing a beautifully sculpted body, chiseled facial features but still hairless armpits and legs.

 

Robert remained in his chair and started panning the camera around, getting some `establishing shots'.  Chris went into the water and waded over to where little Jerry was laying on an inflatable mattress. 

 

Chris said "Hi."  Jerry said "Hi."  Chris said, "I'm Chris."  Jerry volunteered that he was Jerry.  A scintillating opening conversation.

 

Chris asked if Jerry's Mom was poolside.  Jerry pointed out a gangly 13 or 14 year old girl in a two piece bathing suit at one end of the pool.  "No," said Jerry.  "Just my stupid sister's supposed to watch me."

 

"Do you want a pull around the pool?" Chris asked.

 

"Sure," Jerry eagerly replied.   "But be careful.  I don't swim too good if I fall off."

 

Chris at first began slowly pulling the mattress behind him.  And this went on for several minutes, with Jerry beginning to shout instructions to his tamed dolphin about where to go.  Chris began to banter back about not being a slave and Jerry responding that a horse should do anything its master told it.  Those kinds of accusations and counter accusations were a boy's way of taking the measure of his opponent and Chris understood and enjoyed its effect..

 

Chris was soon emboldened enough by the repartee to stop and spin the mattress so that he was now behind, not in front of, his little `passenger'.  "I'm tired of pulling," he explained to Jerry.  "I think I'll push for a while."

 

Jerry, at first fearful that the ride was over, quickly accepted the alternative without objection. But Chris now stood/waded directly behind the part of Jerry's wriggling body that hung from the mattress.  Placing his hands on the mattress edges on either side of Jerry, Chris could now half embrace the little kid and press his chest occasionally against the shorts covering Jerry's bottom.  Chris took off on another tour of the shallow end of the pool.

 

Robert now took some short shots of this activity.  But while looking through the view finder he suddenly noticed another bather swimming, actually dog paddling, on a collision course with the mattress.

 

Chris was surprised when a small body suddenly appeared on his right side, grasping for the mattress and gasping for air.  Chris looked down at a small boy's face staring up at him.  The kids light brown hair was plastered to his head.  He appeared to be a good looking 11 or 12 year old, not really cute or handsome, but with a grin from ear to ear.

 

"Hey.  Get off," cried Jerry to the intruder.

 

The new kid paddled around to the front edge of the mattress so he could make eye contact with Jerry and Chris at the same time.  "Aw, come on, Jerry.  There's room for everybody," the new kid whined mockingly, making pleading puppy eyes at Chris at the same time.

 

"Who are you?" Chris said.  And then to Jerry, "Do you know him?"

 

"Yeah," said Jerry.  "That's Mark."

 

"Should I make him go away?" goaded Chris to Jerry, secretly hoping the answer was no.

 

"Aw, he's OK I guess," Jerry admitted.

 

Chris stared at the upper half of Mark's body, which was all that he could see as Mark slowly bounced up and down in the water across from him.  Mark was skinny, but with some shoulder and arm muscle.  His skin was white (no tans yet) but unblemished from throat to belly button, which Chris noted should have been an "outy" except that is was recessed into an "inny" cavity.  His arms and belly were absolutely smooth, without any golden hairs, which some little boys have, which usually indicates they will develop furry `coats' later on.  His cheeks were smooth and his upper lip was bare.  Chris reconfirmed to himself that without any signs of puberty, Mark couldn't be more than 11.

 

During Chris' musings, Mark had come back around to Chris and Jerry's side of the mattress, and without prompting, he had dived under Chris' right arm and squeezed himself up along side of Chris' thigh and stomach and up into a position next to Jerry.   A tingle shot into Chris' brain.

 

The viewer in Robert's camera now revealed a happy threesome on a raft.  The two little kids grasping the edges of their flotation device, while their personal tugboat began to push them around the pool, making as much contact with the swimsuit covered butts as possible.  Chris thought it provident that he had worn his baggy swim trunks.  Chris was not overly endowed in the genital department, but it would be a good thing that nothing much was obvious if and when he had to get out of the waist deep water.  His hard-on was like a compass needle for his makeshift boat.

 

A few minutes later, Robert, through his camera viewer, noticed that the new kid to the party saw that Robert was pointing the camera at them.  And then the kid named Mark made an interesting movement, Robert thought. A huge goofy grin came over the kid's face, his eyes scrinched up, he pushed himself a little higher off the mattress and angled both of his hands at the wrist in what one could only call a `faggoty' wave at the camera.  Where the fuck had that come from? Robert asked himself.  Chris had been focusing on Jerry's little back at the time of the motion, and Robert thought he had missed it.  But it would be immortalized on film, and he could show Chris the moment the film came back from developing.

 

The boys on the raft were getting more rambunctious, as boys do.  Twice now each one had been kicking their legs and had connected with Chris' crotch.  It didn't hurt, but Chris would complain mightily and threaten the rafters with serious bodily harm.  When Mark did it again, a few minutes later, Chris knew he was being tested, because it was less of a careless hit than a slow, probing swipe between Chris' legs.

 

"I told you to watch it," Chris bellowed, while Jerry giggled and Mark feigned regrets.

 

"There's not much there anyway," Mark half mumbled, but loud enough for Chris to hear.

 

Chris knew this to be a boyish challenge.  The realization was dawning on Chris, as apparently Mark hoped it would, that Mark was not an innocent little kid, but that he knew what's what and was making an intentional play for Chris' attention, if not also affection.  But challenges need to be answered.

 

Chris grabbed Mark around the waist.  He pulled him back off the raft and started to raise the little boy into the air, preparing to throw the small form into the pool.  Mark wanted this to happen, of course, and made only mild protest.  After he hit the water, Mark splashed around as if he were drowning, then suddenly put his feet on the bottom, stood up so that the water came up to his nipples and taunted Chris, "Is that all?"

 

Chris accepted the invitation and again grabbed the slippery, skinny kid and hoisted him over his shoulder.  Mark kicked his legs and waved his arms, until Chris shoved him further over his shoulder and Mark went into the water head first.  The smooth boy skin of Mark's stomach and thigh slid along Chris' neck and shoulder and back, sending more shivers towards his cock.  But he couldn't tell if the bulge in the middle of the swim suit as it passed by was a fold in the fabric or Mark's cock.

 

Chris noticed a whistle blowing and turned to see `Susie Lifeguard' admonishing him that rough housing was not to be tolerated.  Chris did not need to draw extra attention to his and Mark's pool play, so Chris agreed with downcast eyes that it wouldn't happen again.

 

Robert's camera view of what happened next convinced him that Mark was a firecracker of a boy.  No sooner had the pool attendant turned her back to check out another drama, than Mark was back on the floating mattress, this time with his elbows on the raft and holding his head in his hands, each hand having only its middle finger pointing straight up in a New York cabby salute at the lifeguard's back.  He then slowly rotated his position so he was straight on to the camera and smiled that goofy, wide grin.  Once again caught on film, news at 11, Robert thought to himself.

 

It is a universal axiom that when any boy sees other boys having too much fun with what appears to be a cooperative grownup male, they must inject themselves into the happenings.  This pool performance was no exception.  Over the next half hour, submarine and surface attacks were launched against Chris and his crew by 5 or 6 other boys, including the aforementioned Robby and Theron.  Although obviously older than the 10 and 11 year old rafters, the striplings could not resist boyish water wrestling and splashing, hoping in the backs of their emerging sexual psyches, to make slippery skin to skin contact with anyone, whether they were little boy or adult.

 

Robert had the advantage of a 10X telephoto lens on his camera and was able to confirm that of all the boys coming and going to the water fight, only little Jerry remained without a telltale hump in the front of their swimsuit.  Robby, the oldest, had the most to display on an occasional glimpse, but Theron's package was larger than normal also. Even Mark would definitely show a little bit of a tent effect, but only immediately after a thoroughly soaked swim suit plastered itself across his lap, as he was bent over backwards on the edge of the raft.  Robert was developing the opinion, however, that these flashes of Mark's arousal were not accidental.  There was something definitely smelling of seduction going on here.

 

Chris' original intent had been to develop a relationship with Jerry.  While he continued to lavish attention on the little fellow, he was also having to balance that focus with the subtle but insistent demands from Mark.  When it rains, it pours.

 

The ownership of the raft belonged apparently to Jerry's family, but he soon tired of fending off marauders and relinquished its use to the likes of Robby and Theron, and pulled himself out on to the decking.  Chris waded over to him to make sure that he was just tired, not mad.  Jerry agreed that's all it was, so Chris decided it wouldn't aggravate Jerry if he spent some more time making contact with the new pool pirates.  Mark continued to hang in, like a remora around a shark, even though the bigger boys were starting to play a lot more roughly.

 

Over the next hour, there were several more admonishments from the pool attendant.  Chris was losing energy, it was 3:30 and he decided after the last whistle to use it as the excuse to discontinue playtime.  Chris even dragged the raft out of the pool with him and laid it down next to Jerry and his sister, with a little smile and bow to the lifeguard, who returned a grateful, care- worn smile for the small courtesy.  Chris sat down next to Jerry, but this now required that he talk to the sister as well.  Chris' friendliness was immediately misinterpreted by the 14 year old female's psyche as sexual interest in her.  This would later lead to some odd developments, but for now Chris was intent on making sure that she was OK with his interest in Jerry.  Chris left them finally with the information about where he lived, and that he wouldn't mind if they dropped by to visit during the upcoming summer on weekends or those late summer evenings while the sun was still up.  Janice, the sister, said she would definitely come by, but Chris made sure Jerry understood the invitation was for him too.

 

Chris looked around to find Mark.  He saw the little boy, by himself in a corner of the shallow end, swishing the water with his hands, just sort of wandering around.  But every minute or so he would glance over directly at Chris.  This time he caught Chris looking back and his face broke into a big grin.  Chris decided against going over to him in the water, because it would risk being attacked by the other boys.  Chris walked around the edge of the pool to just over where Mark was still standing, and crouched down.

 

"How you doing?" Chris asked.

 

"OK.  Are you leaving?" Mark asked, starting to make little doe eyes.

 

"Yeah.  You guys tired me out.  Enough is enough for one day," Chris replied.

 

"Is Jerry going to be your friend now?" Mark asked, out of the blue.

 

Chris was half expecting some kind of confrontation, and was ready for it.  "Like you said today, `There's room for everybody.'  Why?  You want to be my friend?"

 

"Yeah," he almost whispered.

 

"That'd be fine with me." Chris said looking straight into Mark's eyes. "Yeah.  I'd like that."

 

Some little boys can make their faces actually shine, almost as if illuminated from under the skin.  Mark's face did this when he heard Chris' words.

 

"I live at 5901 Locust, apartment C.  I work Monday to Friday like everybody else, but if I see you around maybe we can do something.  Or if you just drop by, that'd be OK too. I live with two other guys.  That's Robert over there with the camera and another guy John.  If I'm not home, you can give them any message you want. They're cool.  OK?"

 

"OK.  My mom and dad are kinda strict, but I can go out to see other kids usually.  If I'm not grounded," he smiled up.

 

"Well.  Stay out of trouble and I'll see you," Chris said warmly, and somehow he knew that Mark understood.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

And that's the end of Part 1 of this short story. Part 2 to follow very shortly. If you want to say `Thank you', you can email me: Robert Lawrence at  richt4t1958@gmx.com