Date: Sat, 10 Jan 2004 16:06:08 EST
From: Badgod69@aol.com
Subject: PUNKBOY

When I was in my early 30s I worked part-time at a local theatre company
that offered a full-range of acting and technical theatre classes for all
age levels.  The company produced 5 plays a year on their main stage, as
well as having a youth training program for teenagers who were interested
in acting or tech work.  The company is still producing to this day, though
I am no longer involved in the program.

One of my duties as an employee was to teach 3 acting classes for the youth
program.  I had a great time with these talented and industrious kids, and
the work we did was incredible.  I only wished that more of the adults had
been as disciplined and dedicated as these young actors were.  One of my
best students was a kid named Seth, a 16 year-old boy with dark, curly hair
and huge brown eyes.  Seth stood just under 5'7" (my height) and weighed a
well-built 160 lbs.  He was not only a highly skilled actor but was also
involved in the company's physical theatre training program.  This series
of classes was strenuous and physically challenging, and many of the kids
who enrolled in it dropped the series after the first few classes.  Seth
loved it, probably because he was also a skilled gymnast.  I did not teach
this series, but one of my acting classes met in the same room as the
physical theatre class.  In fact, as the physical class let out, my kids
would rush in and begin setting up for our acting class.  The physical
theatre class students would come out of that room dragging their butts
from the strenuous workout they had just gone through.  It was not unusual
for most of the boys in the class to come out shirtless and drenched in
sweat.  The few girls in the class would usually be dressed in sopping wet
sweats or t-shirts and shorts.  My students would joke about how smelly the
room was after the physical theatre class was done, and I have to say they
weren't wrong.  The smell of the girls' perfumey deodorants could be
smelled faintly under the stronger, overpowering reek of the boys' sweat
that no deodorant was strong enough to mask.  The room itself was fairly
large with very high ceilings, but the temperature was usually warm because
the room had no windows.  Unfortunately, the building didn't have showers
for the performers and students, and because of the constant smell of
sweatiness the training facilities were nicknamed the "sweat lodge."  I
liked the smell.  But then, the smell of guys' sweat has always been a
major turn-on for me.  Probably my only real fetish.

One afternoon as I was just about to enter my classroom and begin teaching,
Seth stopped by my office and said he needed to talk to me after class for
a bit.  I asked him if anything was wrong, but he just repeated that he'd
talk to me after class.  As I watched my students perform their scenes I
wondered what Seth wanted to tell me.  The 90 minutes went by pretty fast
but I got involved in an acting problem question with a couple of my
students afterwards.  I had forgotten that Seth wanted to talk.  As I
walked down the hall to my office I saw Seth lounging on one of the old,
battered couches that lined the hallway for the students to relax on.  He
had his shirt off and appeared to be fast asleep.  He was stretched out on
the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes.  I noticed how dark and thick the
hair under his arms was, and how smooth and creamy the rest of his arms and
chest were.  He was wearing sweat pants that he had shoved up his hairy
legs so that they were bunched up just below his knees.  His bare feet were
long and delicate looking, a deceptive image because I knew just how agile
and strong this kid was.  I sat down on the end of the couch and gave his
big toe a pull.  This roused Seth from his nap and he raised his head and
smiled at me before yawning and stretching like a beautiful, muscular
tiger.

"What's up, Seth?  Sorry I wasn't here sooner; I got stuck in a
conversation" I told him quietly, not knowing if what he wanted to tell me
was going to be something confidential or not.

"Well, see, I have this friend who got kicked out of his house for smoking
weed and stuff, and he's really smart and I was telling him about the
program here and I think he wants to check it out," Seth quickly explained,
all the information coming out in a torrent.  This has always been
something I've appreciated in kids, the fact that they are able to convey a
lot of information in a very few sentences.

"Well, bring him down then."  I wasn't sure why he felt he needed to tell
me this.  "How old is he, anyway?" I added.

"He's 16, but that's not what I wanted to ask you."

He gazed at me with his big brown cow eyes, then blushed and looked away
for a moment before smiling and explaining the rest.

"See, he doesn't have anywhere to stay right now, and my parents said he
can't stay at my house cuz he does drugs.  So I was wondering if you know
anybody he could stay with for a few days until he can find somewhere more
permanent to stay?"

I knew that I certainly wasn't about to offer to let this kid stay with me,
even if it was only for a few days.  I felt bad for him, but the last thing
I wanted was to have a drugged-out homeless kid crashing in my apartment.
I lived alone and liked it that way.

"Hmmm.  Well, I'll ask the other staff if they know of anything, Seth, but
in the meantime I would suggest that you and the rest of his friends put
your heads together and think of somewhere for him to go, at least for a
night or two.  Grab me tomorrow and I should know something by then.  But
in the meantime, do what I suggested, OK?  One of you guys must be able to
put him up for a couple of days," I told him gently.

He hoisted his toned, damp body off the couch, pulled his thin t-shirt over
his head, grabbed his backpack and adjusted it onto his broad shoulders.

"Sure thing, Dan!"  He was smiling hugely, apparently relieved that he had
now transferred his burden onto an adult that he knew he could trust with
this dilemma.

That night I made some phone calls but struck out.  No one seemed willing
or able to take this kid in, even for a few days.  I could tell from the
way they answered that they didn't want to take the risk of having a kid
known to be a drug user in their homes.  I was getting pissed off, but then
I had to face the fact that I had felt that way, too.

The next day I was prepared to tell Seth that I was unable to help him out.
I had a list of youth services programs to give him, knowing that one of
the agencies listed would be able to give him better advice, if not
actually provide the names of places his friend could go to for help.

As I walked through the darkened auditorium, I could hear the loud yelps
and screams from the kids waiting for classes to begin in the 'sweat lodge'
echoing through the backstage area.  I pushed through the swinging
double-doors that led into the training facilities and walked down the
cramped, musty hallway before turning into a larger hallway that contained
the staff's offices.  There were about 2 dozen kids sitting or laying on
the couches or standing in small knots laughing and talking.  As I checked
the message board for any changes or announcements the swinging doors
opened and I turned to see who was coming in.

Seth came into the hallway first, followed a moment later by a beat-up,
dirty, scruffy scug with an impressive shiner.  I immediately knew this
must be the kid Seth had told me about.  The kid looked like a modern-day
punk version of Peter Pan.  He was small and thin but you could see that he
was also agile and alert, giving him an elfin air.  Even his face looked
elfin, a curious mixture of angel and imp.  Heart-shaped with a slightly
pointed chin, dirty, pale skinned with flushed cheeks; strange
almond-shaped, icy, pale blue eyes, one with a purplish-yellow bruise
around and under it; blond, dirty hair woefully tousled and sticking up in
messy peaks all over his head, the back of his hair looked matted, like he
had just rolled out of bed.  His mouth was small and bow-shaped and his
lips appeared redder than they actually were due to the paleness of his
skin.  When he smiled he revealed small white teeth, almost like baby
teeth.  He was one of the most oddly beautiful kids I had ever seen.  He
was wearing a ratty, long-sleeved thermal top with soiled, ragged cuffs
with an old faded black t-shirt over it.  An ancient pair of what looked to
be cut-off black suit trousers hung from his narrow hips, their ragged ends
stopping a few inches below his knees, dangling black threads against the
skin of his calves.  Numerous safety pins held the seams together where
they had long-ago split open in several places, and a long series of wallet
chains hung down almost to his knees.  His socks had once been white but
were now gray and flecked with mud.  A beat-up pair of old skate shoes,
held together with duct tape wrapped around them, completed the costume.
He had a grimy, bulging black backpack with patches sewn on it slung
sloppily over one shoulder that he let fall to the floor as soon as he was
inside.  Under his other arm he had tucked his skateboard, and this he
carefully and lovingly leaned upright against the nearest wall.  Seth
brought him over to meet me.  I smiled at them both and I noticed that
punkboy didn't return the smile.  He seemed to be wary and more interested
in taking everything in than in exchanging commonplace pleasantries.

Seth beamed at me and said, "Hey, Dan.  This is my friend Skunk.  I told
you about him"

I laughed inwardly to myself.  "What's up, Skunk, how ya doin'?" I asked
the kid.  I didn't need to ask how he got his name because I could smell
the answer.  This kid must have been wearing the same clothes for at least
two weeks.  The stink of stale sweat surrounded him like a thick, dank fog.
Up close I could see that there was a ring of dirt around his throat and
that his hands needed washing.

He pinned me with his pale eyes, smiled and nodded.

"Seth tells me that you got kicked out of your house.  I've been trying to
find somewhere for you to stay for a few days until you can figure out what
you're going to do."

"Cool, thanks," the kid replied, smiling now for the first time.  His voice
was young and reedy-sounding with a faintly adenoidal quality.

"Well, not so fast.  Unfortunately, I struck out with everyone I could
think of calling last night."

"Oh," they both said together and I watched their faces fall from hope to
dejection.  I felt awful.

"Look, dude, where are you staying tonight?" I asked quickly.  I had to
hurry because it was almost time for class to start.  Neither of them said
anything.

I looked to Seth.  "Didn't you guys figure anything out?"  I heard myself
sounding a little bit pissed off.

Seth looked down at his feet for a moment, hands in pockets, then looked
back with an expression of chastised anger on his face.  His brow furrowed
and he said, "I was on the phone with like 7 different people last night,
Dan!  Nobody can help.  It's not my fault!"

I had made the horrible mistake of embarrassing a boy in front of another
boy.  I reached out and clasped his shoulder.  "I know it's not, Seth.  I'm
sorry I spoke to you in that voice.  I'm just late to class and I'm
frustrated by all this, too."  I paused for a moment, looking at these 2
woebegone kids, one of them needing to be fed and watered badly.  It seemed
like the only right thing to do, so I said, "All right.  Look.  If you want
to, you can crash at my apartment for the night, Skunk.  I don't know about
any longer than that, but in the meantime, we all HAVE to try to find a
place for you to stay that's more-or-less stable for at least a few days."

They looked at each other and Skunk smiled at Seth.  Seth smiled back at
him and then they both turned their smiles on me.

I started backing away from them, frantic about how late I was.

"OK, Seth, take Skunk to whatever class you have now.  Or, Skunk, you're
welcome to come check out my acting class if you want!"  I turned and
rushed down the hall to my classroom.

By the end of the 90 minutes I was wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Also I was totally confused about how Seth knew this kid.  They couldn't
have looked less similar.  Maybe Seth was into the punk scene but didn't
dress the part.  In any case, it was too late now to back out, so I
gathered my materials and headed back to my office.  I was through for the
day and only wanted to go home and relax.  Then I remembered again for the
hundredth time that I would have a guest tonight.  So much for relaxing.

I waited around for over 30 minutes, wondering if Seth and Skunk had gone
off on some new adventure or whether they had made alternate plans and
hadn't notified me.  I was starting to get pissed off, so I decided to
leave.  If they came back to the theatre after I already left, then they'd
just have to figure out something else.

As I crossed the dark auditorium I kept an ear open for any signs of Skunk
and Seth, thinking that maybe they were talking in one of the empty rooms
that opened onto the auditorium.  But everything seemed still in this wing,
except for the sounds of students rehearsing and laughing far off in the
distance.  I had already checked there and the boys were not to be found.
No one had seen them in the last hour.

As I pushed open the door leading to the real world, I immediately saw
Skunk sitting on the sidewalk right next to the door, leaning up against
the side of the building.  He looked up at me and smiled as I emerged from
the gloom of the auditorium.

"Hey," he said, rising and readjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

"Where were you guys?"  I was even angrier now, knowing that I had been
waiting for nothing.

"Seth said not to disturb you right after class cuz you might have to talk
to some of your students.  He took off after his class was over, so I've
been waiting out here for about an hour."

I felt suddenly sorry for being angry with this kid when it hadn't really
been his fault.

My voice suddenly relaxed and got less strident.

"Sorry, Skunk, I thought you guys had ditched me and didn't tell me."

Skunk just laughed his high-pitched chuckle and raised his already arched
eyebrows as if to say, "now what?"

"I'm parked in the lot around the corner.  Let's get outta here!"  I was so
ready for the day to be over.

It took about a half hour to drive home.  I had a Pixie's CD playing and
Skunk liked that OK.  Most of the bands he liked I had either heard of or
knew and liked, too.  He wasn't very talkative, but had a lot of physical
energy that he released by drumming on his knees along with the music.  I
decided to hold off on asking him a bunch of questions 'til after dinner,
hoping he'd be more talkative when he was full and relaxed.

When we walked into my apartment he entered slowly and warily, looking for
all the world like an elf, like Peter Pan.  It was unnerving.  I made a
mental casting memo, noting how this kid's face was so spectacularly
singular at moments, perfect for any number of roles!  He started smiling
and walked over to one of the many odd objects I have collected as
curiosities and decoration over the years.  He asked about a lot of the
things and sort of took a tour around the living room.

"Damn, dude, this is like some sort of weird...museum or...art...or
something....  That's fuckin' amazing!  I love your apartment, there's so
much cool shit in here that I want!"  He was actually laughing and he
seemed almost relaxed for the first time since I'd met him. When Skunk
laughed he had dimples and his icy blue eyes sparkled like snow.  When he
smiled and laughed like this he looked like an angel; the imp disappeared.
Amazing.

"Well, make yourself comfortable!  You can touch or handle or look at
anything you want, OK?  Just put it back where you found it.  That sofa
opens into a bed and that's where you'll sleep tonight, all right?  The
bathroom's down the hall, my bedroom's down the other hall.  And the
kitchen is totally open to you, so eat or cook whatever you want.  It's
pretty well-stocked," I said.

Skunk seemed completely at ease and friendly now.  He had relaxed
immediately when he saw my place and realized I wasn't taking him to the
typical 30-something's suburban clone apartment.  I have lots of weird
shit, from a realistic latex prop skeleton hanging from a rusty meat-hook
in one corner of my living room to antique daggers and one wall that's
completely covered in graffiti pieces and way more.  The strangeness of it
all seemed to delight him, almost like he knew he was welcome here.  The
change was instantaneous.

"OK, so first things first.  Why don't you get out of those clothes and
I'll throw them in the laundry basket.  And then go jump in the shower.
I'll make some dinner while you're showering and then we can talk some
about what your options are."

"OK," he replied, but he hesitated.  "What am I gonna wear if you're gonna
take my clothes?"  His pale, suddenly suspicious, blue eyes never left me
as I moved about the kitchen.

"I'll leave you some clean underwear and sweats outside the bathroom door
as soon as I get dinner started."

He just nodded, then stood up and walked out of the kitchen and into the
bathroom.  I could hear the shower turn on.  I put a pot of water on the
stove to boil.  I had some spaghetti and sauce that we could eat, along
with some fresh garlic bread.  I wanted to get some good, substantial food
in this kid.

All of a sudden I heard Skunk's voice behind me.

"Where should I put these?" he said, startling me a bit.  I turned to him.
He was standing in the kitchen doorway with his clothes wadded up in a ball
in his hands.  He had stripped down to his boxers and an oversized, dingy
wifebeater that hung on his frame like a nightshirt.

"Just leave them on the floor in the living room and I'll throw them in the
hamper," I said.

Again he hesitated.  "What about my underwear?"  He sounded sort of
sheepish.

"Uhhh...I guess just leave them with the rest of your clothes."

"OK," he said, then turned and left.

I spooned the sauce into a pan and put it on the stove, added the pasta to
the boiling water.  As I turned the heat down low, I heard the shower
curtain being opened and then closed.  Soon after, I walked into the living
room and saw the pile of Skunk's clothes in the middle of the floor.
Apparently he had stripped naked in the living room, leaving his boxers and
the wifebeater on top of his other clothes.  I scooped up the bundle and
took it into my bedroom.  The laundry hamper was in my closet.

The sharp, acrid stink of stale sweat from this ball of dirty clothes was
overpowering.  I wondered when the last time was that Skunk had bathed.
Just as I was about to plop the dirty clothing into the hamper I decided to
take a closer whiff of his wifebeater and thermal top.  I untangled the
dingy undershirt from the twisted clothes, then extracted the thermal and
put the rest into the hamper.  I brought the sweat-stained wifebeater to my
face and my eyes involuntarily began to tear from the stench of old
perspiration.  This was probably the strongest smelling sweat I had ever
smelled on a kid before.  His thermal was infused with the same stench but
even more potent.  I inhaled deeply, feeling my cock immediately stiffen
from the smell.  I knew I'd have fun later tonight sniffing the pits of the
thermal while I jacked off behind the closed door of my bedroom.  As an
afterthought, I fished around in the hamper until I found his socks.  My
hand found them even before my nose did.  The damp crustiness of the
filthy, stiff fabric told me I had found them.  I pulled them out and
looked at them before I smelled them.  They had once been cheap, white
sweat socks, but now they were a combination of gray, brown and yellow from
all the foot funk and sweat that this kid produced.  They smelled sweetly
sour, sort of like buttermilk; he obviously had been wearing these socks
for a long time. When I was finished sniffing them, I buried them deep
under the other clothes in the hamper because their stench was so strong.
But now I was on a roll, so I fished around until I found his dirty boxers.
I examined them inside and out, finding slight skids in the back and piss
stains in the front.  The area just under the fly felt a little bit stiff
and crusty and when I smelled it I thought I recognized the faint smell of
dried cum.  I bunched the boxers up and brought them to my face.  The scent
was amazing: a rich, ripe combination of sweaty balls, ass, jizz and piss.
I noticed that the shower had stopped running, so I quickly dumped the
clothes back into the hamper and shut it.

When I came back down the hall towards the kitchen, the bathroom door
suddenly opened and out stepped a naked, damp-haired Skunk, still toweling
off, with the socks and underwear I had given him clutched in his hand.
Seemingly totally unselfconscious about his nakedness, he followed me
through the living room into the kitchen where he flopped into one of the
chairs at the table and slouched against it, legs spread, drying his spiky
blond hair roughly with the towel.  I had a hard time not staring at him.

"That felt great," he said, sighing heavily as he finished rubbing his
hair.

"Good!"  I wanted to turn to look at him.  "Dinner will be ready really
soon.  Hungry?"

"Hell yeah!  I haven't really eaten since the day before yesterday," he
said.

"Well, eat all you want while you're here, Skunk."  I made sure to use the
name he had chosen for himself.

He beamed at me.

"Thanks, dude"

There was a long pause as I continued to get supper ready and he watched
me.  He was still completely nude; the underwear and socks I had given him
to change into sat on the kitchen table.  I moved to the table to set out
our plates and utensils.  Perfect timing, because now I was facing him and
could see his nakedness up close.

Skunk was incredibly pale-skinned with a flush of pink.  He was skinny.
His arms and legs were like sticks, with knobby knees and pointed elbows.
Although I had been told that he was 16, his body made him appear to be
much younger, closer to 12 or 13 years old.  The only things about his body
that proved he was older was the hair under his arms and the fairly thick
pubic bush that surrounded his cut dick.  As I set the utensils in their
places next to the plates, I sneaked a look at his cock.  His soft prick
was a healthy 4 or 5 inches long, maybe, and his balls looked full and
plump.  Next to his pale skin they looked reddish-pink and luscious, like a
ripe peach right down to the fuzz.  A baby-fine, pale blond sprinkling of
hair ran the length of his legs.  His knees were a patchwork of scabs and
cuts, I assumed from scrubbing on his skateboard numerous times.  His
elbows, I noticed, had similar scars.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked, acknowledging his nakedness without making a
big deal of it.

"Nah.  I like being naked."  He giggled a bit after he said it.  "Does it
bug you?"

"Not at all.  I just don't want you to get cold."  What a liar.

He sighed like I had said it DID bug me, and he reached across the table to
grab the clean underwear I had given him.  He hoisted one large, still
slightly dirty foot onto the seat of the chair he was sitting on and began
to pull on a clean sock.  I glanced over at him while he was occupied with
getting the sock on.  I could see under his balls now, and there were pale
hairs lining either side of his legs where they met under his balls.  His
asshole was tiny and pink, and the image that came to mind was of a tiny
starfish winking at me.  When he had that sock on he put on the other.
Again, he raised his leg and revealed a brief glimpse of his little
butthole.  When he was finished he picked up the clean boxers I had given
him and stepped into them. I hadn't been sure what to give him to wear on
top, so I had pulled out one of my wifebeaters for him, but in a size
medium.

"I just gave you a wifebeater cuz I didn't know what you like wearing.  I
have t-shirts or sweaters if you want, instead," I offered.

"Nah, this is cool.  If I get cold I have my hoodie."  He smiled at me.

"Did you find the sweats I put out for you?" He was making no move to go
get them.

"Yeah, but I'll put them on later.  I usually just kick it in my underwear
when I'm at home or crashing at somebody's house.  If that's OK," he
quickly added.

I smiled back at him.

"Just relax and be comfortable."

We ate dinner and I watched him wolf down his food.  He had seconds and
then thirds, which made me glad.  We talked while I did the dishes and he
ate some cookies at the table.  He explained his situation to me, and
mostly it sounded like he and his parents just needed a cooling off period
before he moved back home.  Basically, his parents were pissed off because
Skunk was involved in the punk scene, which from personal experience I knew
was not a bad thing at all.  They were also freaked out because Skunk loved
smoking weed.  Again, I knew that for me I would rather have my kid getting
stoned than getting drunk, and he told me that he didn't really like
alcohol and rarely drank.  It was unrealistic to demand that a kid like
Skunk never do drugs or drink because it was something he was going to do
anyway.  So I figured that could be handled, too.  They were also upset
about his hygiene, specifically his not changing or washing his clothes.
He insisted that this was all part of his punkness, and I knew that he
meant every single word of it, as ridiculous as it might seem to him in 20
years.  Or maybe not.  Maybe Skunk would be a punk for life, like a few of
my older punk friends.  I realized then how trusting he had been when I
instructed him to get out of his clothes so I could put them in the hamper.
In any other situation, Skunk probably would have refused to let go of that
part of his identity.

The major problem was that Skunk had started taking to the streets.  He was
becoming entranced with the idea of being a gutter punk, those homeless
street kids you see everyday in urban areas.  He was disappearing from home
for longer and longer periods of time.  Naturally, his parents were worried
for his safety and welfare, but Skunk saw it as meddling and interference.

I told him that if he wanted I could call his folks and suggest the name of
a good family counselor who could mediate the situation.  I offered to let
him stay at my place for the next 3 days if he would agree to this
scenario.  He said yes, and seemed anxious at this point to go back home,
at least for a while.  My guess was that it would be for a good short
while.

It was almost midnight when we wrapped up talking.  I learned all sorts of
stuff about the friendship between Seth and Skunk.  Seth really was into
the punk music scene, but only as far as the music went.  He apparently
wasn't interested in the lifestyle too much.  Seth had met Skunk through a
mutual friend who was in a band.  Seth and Skunk didn't really know each
other all that well, but Skunk said Seth seemed like an all right dude.

It was time for me to go to bed.  I had to be at work at 8 a.m.  I helped
Skunk get the hide-a-bed out and made up and then I smoked a final
cigarette with him before I turned in.  He was sitting cross-legged on the
bed, looking like a little boy on a sleep-over adventure.  He was grinning
at all the weird shit he would be surrounded by after the lights were off.
I wondered if secretly the idea sort of freaked him out.  When I had
finished my smoke, I started heading for the bathroom after I wished him
good night.

Just as I reached the door, he said, "Hey, you got any porn I could watch?"
and then laughed.

"What?!"  I had to laugh at his boldness.

"If I don't smoke out before I go to bed I can't get sleepy.  But if I jerk
off to porn that will do it, too.  Unless you have some weed...."  He
grinned and was blushing like a madman.

"Uhhh...no weed for you; and...well, I really shouldn't give it to you, but
there are some good porn flicks in the cabinet under the T.V.  At least I'm
not handing them to you.  You can find them on your own."  This felt very
weird.

"Thanks, bro," he smiled.

I left for the bathroom.  I hadn't been called "bro" since my high school
days with my skinhead buddy Choke.

While I was taking a leak I could hear Skunk rummaging through the videos
under the T.V.  There was silence while I brushed my teeth and washed my
face.  Just as I was finishing up I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a
porn vid softly playing in the living room.  I knew which one he had put
on, a bisexual fuck flick that was really hardcore and nasty.  I wondered
if what he was watching was shocking or commonplace to him.  I opened the
bathroom door and walked down the hall to my room.  As I passed the living
room door I could see that Skunk had turned out all the lights and was
watching the T.V.  I paused in the doorway.

"Sounds like you found something to watch," I said softly.

Skunk already had his hand down the front of his clean boxers, apparently
just starting to fondle and stroke himself.

He beamed at me and giggled.  "Yeah, this one is hot."  I started to go to
my room.

"Hey, thanks again, Dan, for letting me crash here."

I said good-night again and went into my bedroom and undressed for bed.  I
moved around my room quietly, listening for any sounds of Skunk jacking
off.  I wondered if he was a moaner and groaner or if he - like many
teenagers - had mastered the art of beating off silently.  I hoped he'd be
loud.  I opened the hamper and reached in and pulled out Skunk's thermal
top and threw it onto my bed.  My cock was stiff and leaking lots of
precum, and the sound of the porn playing on the other side of the wall
only increased my horniness.

I turned out the lights except for the lamp on my night stand and climbed
into bed.  I didn't really need to even grab hold of his reeking thermal
top because it was already stinking up my room, now that it had been freed
from the hamper.  But I did grab it, bringing it to my face cautiously,
inhaling the rank aroma of Skunk's sweaty armpits.  My cock was ramrod hard
now, and I began to beat off slowly and luxuriously, keeping an ear open
for any noises coming from Skunk's side of the wall.  I tend to be loud
when I jerk off, and I wasn't about to hide the fact now.  Besides, Skunk
seemed perfectly OK with being open about masturbating, so I figured I
would be, too.

I heard the bed frame of the hide-a-bed squeak several times.  I wondered
what position he was in.  I wondered if he was on his stomach fucking the
mattress.  Maybe he was up on his knees, leaning back while he pounded his
cock with his fist.  I had been going at it for about 5 minutes when I
thought I heard him get out of bed and walk slowly down the hallway towards
my room.  I slowed my jacking down so I could focus on what I had heard.
Suddenly there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.  I always leave my
bedroom door ajar, so I could see his skinny forearm rap softly on the
door.

"Dan?"  Stage whisper.

I hurriedly threw his thermal under my bed.  "Yeah?"  Normal volume.

He didn't wait to be invited in, he just opened the door and came a few
feet into my room after I answered.  The faint light from the hallway put
him in silhouette.  "Hey, dude, do you have any lube I could use?" he
asked, giggling again.  This kid was something else.

I had stopped jerking when he knocked but I was still completely naked on
my bed, my legs spread wide and my cock throbbing for release.  I guess it
took him a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the comparative
darkness of my room.  When he realized that he had interrupted my jack off
session, he just laughed and slapped his forehead.

"Oh man, sorry, dude!  I didn't realize you were doin' it, too!"

I half-expected him to be freaked out or grossed out but he wasn't.  Not
that I had a bad body, because I didn't.  I had a toned, well-built body
with a fairly hairy chest, legs and ass crack.  But the idea of seeing an
adult jack off spooks teenage guys sometimes.

"No problem, Skunk.  A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, huh?"  I tried
to laugh the situation off, as well.

He surprised me by coming all the way into my room and sitting on the end
of my bed.  I couldn't believe this.  Now I could see him in detail.  He
was naked and his cock looked full and bloated, halfway to a hard-on.  I
reached over to my night-stand drawer, opened it and got my lubes out.

"You use water base or oil base?" I asked, amazed at how comfortable this
kid was with sexuality.

"Whatever you're using!"  He laughed some more.

I grabbed the oil base lube, opened it, squeezed some into the palm of my
hand and slicked up my shaft before tossing the bottle to him where he sat.

His eyes were glued to my body, especially my dick.  While he examined the
lube bottle, I continued to stroke slowly, watching him.  His gaze kept
coming back to my cock, so I decided to take it a step further and spread
my legs some more and started tugging on my nuts.  His cock hardened fast
and it started twitching and throbbing a bit.  His hard dick was not as big
as mine, but nearly.  Hard, my cock measures just a fraction of an inch
under 8".  His looked to be at least a good 7".  It was a beautiful dick.
He tried to adjust his body away from me so I wouldn't see that he had a
boner.

"Thanks, man, this'll do awesome," he said as he rose and placed the lube
on my night-stand.

All I said was, "Cool," still letting myself get even more into my session.
I flipped over so that I was now on my stomach and started bucking my hips
slowly but strongly into the mattress.  I didn't hear him move at all, so I
figured he must be watching me.  I let myself groan and whimper some, then
flipped back over and started to rise onto my knees.

Skunk just stood there, open-mouthed, eyes wide and a little glazed.  When
I got up onto my knees, he looked like a child who walks into the family
living room and sees a Christmas tree for the first time.  Stunned and
delightedly amazed.

"Enjoy yourself, Skunk," was all I said as I leaned back on one arm and
stroked my fat, glistening cock.  Let him figure out what that meant.

He turned quickly and headed for the door.

"OK, well, you too.  See ya."

He didn't close the door behind him, which was good because now I could
hear what he was doing in the living room all the easier.

I took a break from my jacking so I could listen to his movements.  I heard
him get back onto the bed.  Soon he began to whimper also.  My cock pulsed
and more precum leaked out.  Then he started to speak quietly.  I couldn't
make out exactly what he was saying, but from the way he was talking I
could tell that he was directing his words to the people in the porn vid.
Apparently he liked to talk dirty while he jerked off.

I started in again, too.  Lying back down, I could hear his voice rise and
fall as new and nasty scenes filled the screen and his head.  I was getting
close to shooting.

"Hey, Dan, you still doin' it?  You should see this!" he called out.

I wondered if he meant himself jerking off or what was happening on the
T.V. screen.

"Aw, hell yeah, that's fuckin' nasty!!" he added after a moment.

I laughed to myself for a second before I answered.

"Cool vid, huh?" was all I said.

"Oh, hell yeah..."  I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or to the T.V.
"Is it OK if I make noise?" he called out again.

This was getting ridiculous and sexy as hell.  "Sure," I called back.

He started getting more into his session now, hissing in his breath and
moaning.  Every once in a while he'd say "fuck" loud, and I knew that he
was totally into the porn.  When I'd stop my own jacking, I could just
barely hear his fist making furious squishing sounds as it pistoned around
his cock.  I reached under my bed and brought his thermal back out.  I
spread it out and got back up on my knees.  I lowered myself down over it
and rubbed my cock against the rank pits of the shirt, smelling the heady
stench of all that stale sweat come roaring out of the fabric as my cock
heated it up.

All of a sudden I heard him leap out of his bed and come rushing down the
hallway.  I quickly tossed the thermal back under my bed and just in time.
Skunk knocked on my door again, then flung it open and bounded into my
room.

He was giggling and grinning like an imp.  When that angelic smile of his
turned nasty, that's when he looked his most elfin, very much like a horny
Peter Pan.  His eyes were wild and full of icy fire.

"I got something I wanna show YOU," he panted, still jacking his cock.

He stressed the "you" as though he was in a contest with me to see who
could jack off the best or turn each other on the most.  He lay down
lengthwise across the foot of my bed.

"Watch," he said as he smiled at me before throwing his legs up and then
lowering his torso closer to his face.  At first I thought he was going to
shoot his load in his face but instead he kept slowly lowering himself
until he could wrap his lips around the purple head of his cock.  I almost
came on the spot.  This has always been one of my favorite things to see
when I'm jacking off, some hot guy who can suck his own dick.

"Oh wow!" I said deliriously as I scooted back up onto my knees so I could
get a better look.  Skunk quickly had at least half his dick plunging in
and out of his mouth.  Sometimes he would buck his head back a little too
hard and lose his liplock on his cock, which resulted in a soft "popping"
noise and some slurping sounds as he sought to replace his dick in his
mouth.  A few times he purposely released his cock from his mouth so he
could swirl his tongue all around the ridge of his cockhead.  When he would
do this, he'd glance over at me, smiling and giving a little laugh, to see
if I was appreciating how spectacular his skill was in getting himself off.
I kept encouraging him on by telling him how awesome this trick was to look
at.

I scooted even closer to him so I could see it all close-up but also so he
could glance over at my fist stroking my hard prick just inches from his
face.  I was pretty openly examining his body now, not caring if he saw me
staring at his little pink asshole and the wet groves of smelly armpit hair
that he was displaying so provocatively.  I placed my warm hands on his
calves to help gently push his torso even closer to his face so that he
could take himself even further down his throat.  Skunk groaned and growled
in the back of his throat as he picked up the pace of his sucking.  His
cock was hard as a rock, and I could smell his balls and asshole as he got
hotter and more turned-on.

I asked him if he wanted me to do anything to him to increase his fun.

"Squeeze my balls," he gasped before swallowing his dick again.

I reached over and cupped his balls in my hand, letting them bounce on my
palm before I wrapped my hand around them at their base and made them bulge
big and red.

"Oh god, yes...!" he said really loud and raspy, spitting out his cock so
he could say it and then replacing it again.

This was sexy as hell to me, an almost perfect scene.  A hot young guy who
can suck his own dick, whose pits are ripe and stinky, and so obviously
loves what he's doing with himself.  As I alternated the force of squeezing
his nuts I ran the fingers of my other hand through his pit hair.  Skunk's
arms were thrown back over his head in ecstasy.  He hummed and smiled when
I stroked them and so I knew he liked that.  I brought my fingers up to my
face and smelled the sweet, oniony stink of his fresh sweat.  Even fresh
after his shower earlier, his pits still had that unmistakable skunk smell
to them.  I thought it was amazing.  And I knew he had named himself
perfectly, especially for the punk scene.  Funny!

My rational mind kicked in next second and I backed off, making myself be
content with just kicking back and watching him.  There were too many
things I wanted to do to him.

I lay back right beside him so all I had to do was turn my head to stare at
his face close-up while he sucked himself off.  When my naked shoulder
touched his, he started making urgent grunting noises.  I wasn't sure if he
didn't want me touching him or if he liked it.  When I scooted away from
him he spat his dick out again and lowered his legs while he arched his
back to stretch.  His face was bight red and sweat had plastered his hair
into golden curls on his forehead.  He looked hot as hell. He gasped for
breath a few times, then laughed and suddenly turned his face to me.

"Why'd you move away, dude?"

"I thought that was what you were telling me."  I was staring back at him.
He was still jacking his cock in his fist pretty rapidly.  I knew he was
gonna shoot soon from the way he was breathing and from the demonic, glazed
expression in his odd eyes.

"Nah, I like the skin contact, it makes me hornier.  Move on back, I wanna
cum."  So I did.

"So, what do ya think?" He turned his head so it was just inches from mine.

I laughed nastily.  "Pretty fucking amazing, dude!  That's so cool that you
can suck your dick."

"Yeah, I been able to do it since I was a kid, like about 13," he said.
"It feels so good."

"I bet.  I'm jealous, you asshole!"  I was just teasing.

"Nyah, nyah.  Yeah, well, I'd be jealous, too," he laughed back as he
suddenly gave a mighty jerk and threw his legs over his head again and
lowered his cock close enough to lick and then suck.

I watched him for a few seconds and then said, "Throw your arms back,
again.  I like the smell of your sweat."

Skunk just raised his eyebrows, smiled and nodded fast as he threw his arms
over his head.  I leaned into his pit and took a deep whiff.

"Mmmmmmmmmm..." I was pretty sure he hadn't used soap under his arms when
he'd showered.  His pits had a strong stale sweatiness just under the fresh
sweat odor.  I turned back to watch him.

He started whimpering and trying to fuck his throat faster and deeper.  His
eyes got wide and it looked like he was staring bug-eyed at something and
then he closed them.  They quickly reopened to their normal size and tears
began to appear in his eyes.  One single tear trickled down his cheek next
to me.

Suddenly he raised his torso a few inches and opened his mouth while he
grunted and gasped.

"Ah - ah - oh fuck I'm gonna cum - ungh!"

A thick bolt of hot cum blasted directly into his opened mouth immediately
followed by another.  He spat some out and then quickly swallowed the rest.
He licked his lips as a couple of meager spurts followed the two blasts.  I
could see the glint of my bedside lamp on the fresh jizz that he'd spat out
hanging from his lower lip and chin.  He lowered his legs and then wiped
his mouth with a long sweep of the back of his arm.  He then held his arm
up and looked at it carefully and then showed it to me.  There was a
healthy smear of cum about 4 inches long on his arm.  He laughed and then
licked it off, stuck his cum-covered tongue out at me and said "ahhhh," and
then swallowed and grinned his imp smile.  It was almost like he knew
exactly what to do to get me off, because I blew at that precise moment.

I hadn't jacked off for two days so I had a lot built up.  I seized up and
shot out a jet that whipped across my right arm up to my shoulder.  The tip
of the blast landed on Skunk's left shoulder and he whooped it up.  Two
more good bursts followed and plastered my chest and stomach before a few
more spurts popped out and gummed up my pubes.  When I was done, I leaned
over the side of my bed and reached for one of my old t-shirts I was using
for a cum rag.  I handed it to Skunk and he wiped his dick and balls off
first, then his hands and finally his face and chin.

I looked at him while he cleaned up and asked him if he felt sleepy now.
He sighed and said he felt so tired now that he was ready to pass out.  He
finished cleaning up and handed me the t-shirt.  While I cleaned up he
climbed off my bed and watched me wipe down, smiling at me.

"Well, good night.  That felt awesome."

"'Night, dude.  Hey, what are your plans for tomorrow?  Are you going to
school?"

"Yeah, I'll be going to school tomorrow.  Should I meet you at the theatre
afterwards or just come back here or what?" he asked, scratching his nuts
and then rubbing a hand absently under his arm.

Naked and with my dick still half-hard, I got up and went over to my bureau
which was across the room.  I thread of cum still hung from the tip of my
cock and swung back and forth as I walked and Skunk saw it and laughed.  I
shook my dick hard once and it flew off somewhere.  I got an extra key to
my apartment out of a box on my dresser and handed it to him.

"This will let you in whenever you want.  If you don't feel like waiting
for me at the theatre, just come on back here.  And let's make dinner
together, OK?  I'll be home around 6."  I was putting big trust in his
honor by giving him a key, I knew that.

He took it and said good night again and walked out.  I shut the door and
went to bed, listening to Skunk switch the VCR off and turn out his lamp.
I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into, but the next two days and
nights proved to be very exciting ones.