Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 16:39:45 -0500 From: Scott Subject: The Sleeper Dear Nifty Readers: If it is within your means, please be kind and donate to Nifty so that this wonderful repository of erotica can continue to survive and thrive for now and for years to come. Thank you! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ........................................ Sitting here and thinking about the physical pleasure of being a boy again. That desire to go back in time, to be young again. To feel vibrant, to be smooth. To sleep on your tummy as boys do. Your flat toned tummy. Head laying on its side on the pillow. Deep peaceful sleep. An early summer morning. Sleeping in just a pair of white briefs. Skin glowing with a healthy tan. Still innocent but with the horny hormones of early puberty coursing through your veins. A slender, very stiff erection pressing between your body and the mattress. Stretching your body, pressing your groin against the bed. The pleasant horny tingles radiating from your erect penis. Not thinking of sex, just enjoying the sensations on their own. Ten to eleven to twelve. 1969 to 1970 to 1971. Jumping into my time capsule of imagination and nostalgic reflection as I stand just inside the doorway of a boy's room at that age during that time. Seeing a boy of that age and from that era in just a pair of white briefs as he rolls over onto his back. Sleeping under just a white sheet. The sheet pulled down to below his hips, revealing his innocent boyish arousal. The slender arched ridge of his erection beneath briefs that are snug, purchased at the start of the school year, now more than nine months old. His three or so inches rigidly on display as he lays sleeping soundly. His sweet boy tummy expanding and deflating with slow even breaths. A thin forearm and small hand laying on his pillow beside his head. His other arm laying against the bed. His thighs and knees slightly spread. His skin is so perfectly smooth. His face so beautifully peaceful. A small button nose. A sensual pair of lips. Dirty blonde hair cut short with bangs laying across his forehead, somewhat tossled. A few freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and the bridge of his small nose. The wet pink tip of his tongue visible inside his parted lips. His dot-sized nipples lay flush against his chest, not yet darkened with puberty. His belly button is between an innie and an outie. The oblong shape of it features a squiggled nub within the perimeter of his navel that resembles a tiny penis head. When he inhales the corrugated surface of his rib cage becomes visible. The top of a 'V' visible as it descends below the elastic waistband of his briefs. Size 12 JCPenney Towncrafts, circa 1970. He's a very sound sleeper at this age and doesn't wake as you slowly descend those briefs. His very stiff tumescence is pulled down along with the briefs before being freed, plopping against his creamy smooth pubic skin before regaining its arched out posture. His tender preteen erection makes a couple of fluttering upward lilts before remaining still. Hanging snugly below it, his scrotum -- plump and symmetrical and shaded a light dusty rose. His balls, about the size of two cherries, only partially discernible within his scrotal sac. The size of his sac and the length of his penis indicate he is a boy just entering puberty, at the stage before the appearance of any pubic hair. His pubic mound showing a fine gossamer layer of white blonde peach fuzz, similar to the hairs appearing on the tops of his skinny forearms. You sit perched on the edge of his narrow twin bed, mesmerized by this angel, and gently encircle his fleshy boy stalk with your fingers, feeling the warmth of his rubbery firmness. His sensitive boner swells in a spastic lurch as he remains sleeping. His delicate boy tip extends beyond where your index finger and thumb grip his slender shaft. The color of that tip has that curious mixture of being both pink and blue. The surface is perfectly smooth and has the appearance of being drum-tight. You allow the edge of your thumb to swath across his piss slit and feel a quivering pulse radiate up and down his stiffy. His blunted, acorn-sized boy helmet swells tighter and then relaxes. You look up as his head rolls softly on his pillow and he emits a barely audible sigh. You begin to stroke your finger and thumb around the slightly bowed length of his shaft. You monitor him for wakefulness. His head remains still on the pillow, his eyes closed, his mouth pouted open. His thighs spread further apart and the descended waistband of his briefs presses deeper into the smooth hairless flesh of his legs. You massage his hovering stiffness with feathery light pressure, feeling pulses of blood swelling its slender girth from time to time. His slender hips and his puffy pubic mound begin to rock up and down in gentle waves as his sleeping body instinctually responds. The rocking motion is accompanied by deeper breaths which become more audible. His subtle sheath of abdominal muscles begin to appear more defined as muscular tension rises in that area of his body. Suddenly and without warning his groin flutters rapidly for about ten to fifteen seconds before arching stiffly in shuddering place. You halt your stroking to feel his erection quaking with muscular contractions. You look into his face and see his eyes still closed with his eyebrows arched and his nose crinkled as he makes a softly uttered grunt. You return your gaze down to his twitching erection to see a translucent bead of moisture bubble out of his piss slit and begin to slowly drip down the buttressed front of his pulsing pinkish-blue acorn. His very first hint of pubescent wetness. Nothing more than precum, but the result of what can only be described as a boy's dry orgasm. You delicately replace his descended briefs over his still flexing erection, seeing a small wet spot dampening the white combed cotton covering his lilting boner as you stand up to leave the room. From the doorway, you take one last look back at the sleeping boy, a peaceful smile curling his lips, his boner just beginning to deflate. Looking upon yourself at nearly twelve from an old man's eyes.