Date: Mon, 4 Dec 2017 19:36:12 -0500
From: Emile Ochoa <emileochoa@gmail.com>
Subject: Belami

The following story is a work of ficton and an erotica tale with all male
characters. Please consider making a financial contribution to Nifty. Every
donation helps! Thank you! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Belami
Copyright  © Emile Ochoa 2017.

I wasn't the most social boy. I wasn't the guy with all the friends or who
got the girl. I wasn't the one with trophies in his room for sports or some
other equally jock type thing. I had awards and plaques for academics
though. I was that guy. I was the socially awkward, quiet, mostly loner
guy. I had friends, most of them a lot like me, but even they had an easier
time with other people than it seemed like I did. I liked video games
though. I had a bunch of them. I also had a couple of magazines for
personal satisfaction since I wasn't dating anyone.

I also liked softball and played on a team in the local softball league. It
was alright. We weren't the best players, but we weren't the worst, and it
gave me something to do on Saturdays when I wasn't in my room up to
whatever. My dad especially thought softball was good for me since it
provided some sort of bonding and brotherhood with the other boys,
something I hadn't experienced much because I was an only child and the
friends I had; well we weren't really like that.

The team was mainly made up of the sons of people who were friends of the
coach; my dad included. There were mostly dads, but in some cases, a mom or
both parents, including my mom's good friend Stef. Her son was Dash. We'd
seen each other around before though we never really hung out before or
even talked a lot. Not much of it changed when we were in softball, at
least not at first.

We'd already had a few practices under our belts the day I went to the
supermarket with my mom. I was over near the Deli section trying to decide
between apple and pumpkin pie when I overheard my mom call out to someone.
I looked over and saw Stef; nothing unusual about that. I figured they'd
stand around talking long enough for me to pick something out until my mom
called me over.
I looked up and saw her and Stef, and then Dash. He looked over at me for a
few seconds as he put something in their cart. I went over to them.

"Lyle you remember Stef and Dash?" My mom asked. I looked at them.

"Um yeah, hi."

"Hi," Dash said back. He got quiet again like I did.

"Well Lyle, how's the softball for you? Are you ready for the game next
weekend?" Stef asked and smiled.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I know Dash is ready, right Dash?" She looked at him as did I. "He's been
working on his throwing, isn't that right?"

"Um yeah, sure."

"He practices at home in the backyard. I just wished he didn't have to
throw the ball against the fence all the time."

"Lyle just kind of tosses the ball around in his room; not much practicing
there," my mom shrugged. "Hey, maybe you guys can practice together. It'll
be like a sparring partner." she looked at me.

"How about this weekend since there isn't a practice on the schedule?" Stef
asked. "I can drop Dash by your place for a few hours." I glanced at her
and Dash. He shrugged.

"You have a glove?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"I can bring my glove."

"Okay," I told him. He thought about it for a second and then nodded.

"Okay," he said with a look.

"OK then, well we'll see you Saturday."

"Bye," I said. They went down the aisle. We went the other way. I looked
back and so did Dash. We looked at each other.

"Pumpkin pie? I thought you were getting the apple," my mom broke my gaze.

"Oh, sorry."

I was pretty indifferent to Dash coming by. It wasn't like we were that
good of friends. In fact, the only thing I knew about him was he was almost
as quiet as I was, he was on the team, we were close in age, and he was
Stef's son. I guess nothing else really mattered when it came to throwing a
softball around. There really wasn't anything to it. It just happened
naturally. It was kind of like the times I pleasured myself with my
magazines. Nobody taught me how to jerk off, I just knew. It was natural.

When it came to being self satisfied, I was like any other teenage boy in
Stroudsburg. I might have had trouble making friends, but I was good at
that. I spent many days and nights exploring my manhood behind the closed
doors of my bedroom and bathroom. There were so many tissues under the bed
that my mom thought I had a cold all the time. I didn't tell her what I was
really doing, not because I was ashamed or embarrassed about it; I wasn't.
I was sure I wasn't the only one who did it, but that didn't mean I wanted
my mother knowing.

We got home from shopping and I went upstairs to be alone while my mom put
everything away. As soon as I had the door to my room closed, I went to the
bed, took out a magazine, and started up. It was like an other time I did
it and I did it a lot since the first time I ever did. Some days I could do
it three or four times before I was completely drained of energy. I figured
even socially awkward nerds needed release too. At that age, no guy could
go forever without ejaculating a few times.

Saturday rolled around in no time at all. Stef dropped Dash by at around
eleven that morning. I met him outside as he walked up toward the house. It
was a little weird since we hadn't hung out before, at least not alone and
not outside of a team thing. He was wearing blue jeans, a  Pirates of the
Caribbean printed tee shirt, sneakers, and an old, burgundy, baseball cap.
He had his glove with him. He looked like he was going to a game.

I can't say I looked any better. I had on jeans too and a tee shirt, and
sneakers. I walked toward him.

"Hey," I waved half heartedly.

"Hey," he stared.

We were both quiet for a few seconds. He finally said something to change
that. I brought him inside, got my stuff, and took him outside. We played
in the street outside the house. It was pretty much a sleepy town so the
only cars around were the ones parked in people's driveways or along the
street. Aside from a couple of the neighbors coming and going periodically,
Dash and I were the only ones out there.

I threw the ball harder than I expected to. He jumped for it, but he missed
it. He had to run after it and was down on the ground like nothing to keep
it from rolling all the way under a car. He was on his stomach. I stared at
him a second before I went to help him.

"Got it?" I extended my hand to him. He took it and I helped him up.

"Thanks."

"Sure. Sorry, I didn't mean to throw it do hard."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "You're stronger than you thought I guess," he
smiled crookedly.

"Yeah I guess," I told him. We looked at each other quietly.

"You want to do something else? This is kind of boring."

"You like games?" I asked him.

"What kind of games?"

"Video games. We could play Xbox or something. I have it in my room."

"Okay."

My room was the second door on the right side of the top of the stairs,
closet to the bathroom which was directly ahead of the stairs. He followed
me up and in. The room was decently sized. It had my bed, a desk, chess
unit, beanbag chair, and closet. The walls had shelves and posters put up.
Dash looked around.

"You like Baywatch too?" He smiled and pointed at the poster of Carmen
Electra. "She's hot right?" He smirked. I nodded.

"I got pictures of her from some magazine. My mom doesn't know. She doesn't
like that stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Like in their underwear and stuff."

"That's a swimsuit."

"It's the same thing. I still have them though."

"Yeah."

"So what games you got?"

I showed him the shoe boxes with all the games. I had a bunch. We settled
on World of Warcraft. We both liked the game. Dash was really into it even
before we started playing. He was saying all this stuff about the fantasy
of it and creating characters, especially when it came to their bodies.

"They always have huge boobs," he chuckled.

"Imagine if the males had huge dicks. I know this kid who can do stuff like
that. He once did a character in a game with this really long package. It
was cool."

"One of your friends?"

"Not really. I don't really have friends. People think I'm stupid or
something. You've heard them at practice sometimes. It's because I'm
dyslexic and have trouble making friends."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm different, but I still know stuff, like sex stuff," he stared
at me with his mouth dropped slightly open. "Do you know any?"

"Yeah," I stared back at him.

"Like what?"

My mom knocked on the door. Dash looked over at the same time I did. I
swallowed the lump in my throat and sighed. My mom turned and left. I
followed behind her with Dash.

"Wait," he stopped me at the stairs. I was about to go down. "You won't say
anything right, about what I was saying right?"

"No. It's guy stuff. Plus you didn't say anything that bad."

"Can I say something else?"

"Yeah," I shrugged.

"I like to jerk off. You ever do that?"

I just looked at him. I was a little weirded out by the stuff he was
saying, but I was curious about it at the same time. It wasn't like I never
thought about sexual things, I just never openly talked about it with
anybody because there wasn't anybody; at least not like Dash. He was
willing to talk about it Both of us were awkward in our own ways and for
different reasons, but we had at least one thing in common that put that
all to rest. He started it, but I was willing to let it go on. It was the
first time I ever felt like I had a real friend who was as awkward in life
as I was.

We were in my room again after we were done eating. The door was closed
most of the way. I left it open about an inch just in case somebody came
upstairs. The last thing I wanted was to be walked in on while we were
doing what we were doing. None of it was planned, but it happened anyway.
It was a little bit weird at first considering who I was with, but then it
was just... like normal.

We had been playing the game and talking about football at first, but then
there was a moment in the conversation when it all changed to what we were
talking about before. Just like before, Dash was the one who initiated it.
He hinted at things; asking me questions about sex or showing how he was
sexual with his pillow, and bugging me to show him what I could do if the
pillow was somebody real. I did it even though I was nervous about it
because he wasn't just a boy. He was my mother's, good friend's son who was
dyslexic and had trouble making friends. He was enjoying though and so was
I.

Dash made it easier to relax because he made the first move. He groped my
crotch when I walked by him to get something from my closet. It happened do
fast. I didn't say anything. It was obvious at that point, that he wasn't
just about talking about this stuff, he was interested in fooling around
too. If I had any doubts, Dash took care of them.  He asked if I ever
jerked off. It was all going somewhere and he was driving it. We really got
talking about sex stuff and he took things a step further when he touched
my crotch again while I was holding the game controller. He did it a few
times before I did it back to him while he took his turn in the game.

Everything happened so fast. I was touching him and being touched before I
even had time to think about it. I wasn't even sure if I thought anything
about it at all. I just knew it felt good. We ended up teasingly rubbing
over our clothes, while we talked about the size and shape of our dicks.
There was a lot of asking have you ever done, and would you ever do type of
questions; mostly from him. Then it happened. Dash asked if he could see
how big my dick could get. I shrugged and stared at him, knowing he would
do something if I let him. So I let him, and he did.

I was sitting on the chair already. He reached over and undid my belt,
opened my jeans, and touched my dick over my underwear. I let him. It was
already swelling inside my Dark Knight printed boxers and swelled more
under his touch. He rubbed it over and over again, methodically and
intentionally. We were around the same age, but Dash was way more
experienced than I was. It was obvious in the way his tongue snaked around
the head of my dick.

I slouched back on the black chair. It was pushed away some from the desk
and Dash stood in front of me, in  between me and the desk. He rubbed the
front of my boxers slowly and purposely. He knew what he was doing. I had a
hard on and there was no hiding it. The more he touched and rubbed it, the
harder it got until it pulsed and the head pushed out from under the
elastic waist band.

He asked if he could see it. I unzipped my jeans and took it out. He went
over and closed the room door some and came back to me. I showed it to him
and asked if I could see his. He showed it to me and everything else
happened from there.

"You ever get a blow job?" He asked me.

"No."

"You want?" He stared at my face.

I nodded and waited. He didn't ask anything after that, he just did. He
moved his hand up and down real slow, glancing at my face from time to time
so he could watch me watching him. Dash reached for it. I stared down at
his fingers crawling over it as it was pressed painfully against my
stomach, near my navel and against the dark, sparse pubic line beneath it.
The rest of it was held in place by the elastic band of my boxers. I pulled
my tee shirt up some when he grabbed my shorts and teasingly lowered them
in the front. My dick pulsed again, beginning to leak precome in a thin,
clear, gooey drip.

He grabbed it and played with it some. He didn't ask if he could, he just
did. I couldn't complain, it felt too good. Things got even weirder, but
better when he slowly stretched his lips over my swollen tip, lowering his
face closer to my lap as my dick disappeared further inside his warm,
wanting mouth. He worked it just like a snake, swallowing his freshly
conquered prey; head first. He pulled my shaft in inch by inch until he was
face deep in my pubes. He used his lips to vacuum seal my dick and held it
for a moment. I thought it was because I was too big for his mouth, but I
was wrong; completely wrong. Dash had no problem.

He slowly pulled his head up, causing his tight seal to rise along my shaft
with his tongue lathering the underside of it from balls to head. Then back
down he went. He didn't gag, not even once. Every inch went in and only
reappeared when he decided to slowly and methodically lift his face up from
my lap. He pulled his mouth back up my shaft to the base of the head; then
went down again ... and up... down... up, and down, and all the way down.
Dash tickled my spread of dark pubes with his nose while he suffocated my
dick with his mouth.

I'd never felt anything like it. I was quietly embarrassed that I'd never
had any kind of sexual encounter with anyone. I definitely never got a blow
job before. A few weeks away from turning eighteen, and the only thing I
was used to, was jerking off. I was good at jerking off. It was the
greatest thing for a guy like me; kind of a nerd, socially awkward with
average looks. I only ever thought about getting blown before; I thought
about it a lot and now here I was, getting blown.

I didn't think it would be another boy doing it. I didn't think Dash would
be the one to do it, but he was the one. He wanted to do it and I wanted it
done. I wasn't planning to stop him. I didn't want to, it felt too good. I
couldn't even speak. I had a hard enough time controlling my breathing and
moaned hard when his lip seal and mouth suction got so intense that it made
me twitch. I couldn't control it. My body was instinctively reacting to his
talent. I suddenly forgot about everything else. I forgot about everyone
else in the house.

I forgot about every girl I ever wanted to mess around with. None of them
mattered in that moment. Only Dash mattered. Only my dick mattered. Only
his young, warm mouth on my dick mattered. Only his tight lip seal around
my shaft mattered and his head bobbing up and down methodically mattered.
What other choice did I have, stop him? No chance.

I lifted my butt off the chair, pushing my hips upward as if he hadn't
already devoured all of me. Dash cupped my butt cheeks with both hands,
pulling my boxers down as I supported myself for him. He squeezed my bare
butt as he bobbed his head and I struggled to breathe; gasping for air and
quivering. If I could say anything in that moment it would've been that he
was born for this.

He sucked faster and faster, keeping his lips tightly sealed around my
stiff shaft. I was completely at his mercy in what he was doing to me. I
swallowed hard. My eyes were closed. My heart beat hard. I didn't need to
fantasize about getting sucked off  by some hot girl anymore, I was getting
something better.

Dash pulled way up; slowly, until my dick sprung from his pursed lips. It
twitched. It ached. It longed to be inside his mouth pocket again. He
teased me, gently massaging my butt cheeks before sliding his hands away
against the under side of my thighs and then over. He rubbed my balls with
one hand while he held my dick with the other.

"I know how to do something else," he said. A mischievous playful grin
crept across his face as he did.

"What is it?"

"This," he smiled and then I felt it and gasped loudly.

Dash flicked his tongue between my balls. He licked my sack like a dog
lapping up water, just slower. He lapped from my balls, up the underside of
my shaft to my aching swollen head. Precome formed in a continuous glob
that dripped out with every twitch. If I were a spider, it would be my web
fluid and Dash lapped it up. He let it hit his tongue and followed the tin,
clear, gooey fluid line back up to its source. When he got there, he
 licked up the glob straight from my piss hole. I opened my eyes.

"Mhmm, fresh," he smiled and quickly went down on me again.

I grunted softly, moaned quietly as Dash bobbed up and down steadily again.
He massaged my balls at the same time, tugging and rolling them in a way
that sent electric jolts up into my stomach. It was a striking feeling
unlike I'd ever felt before. The only sensation that came close to it was
the way I felt the first time I jerked off and came. My midsection heated
up. My chest warmed to it. I felt like I had a fever, but I didn't, it was
just Dash. It was the way he worked. It was what he was doing and how good
he was at doing it...

To be continued...

Comments welcome. Emileochoa@gmail.com