Date: Sat, 21 Dec 2019 03:47:44 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Boy On The Run (Revised) Hey there. Nifty needs your contributions to bring you these stories. Please take a moment to make a donation and let the words flow. ====================================================================== A vague smell of wood smoke tickled Stinson Abby's nose. The 13-year-old's sinewy arms pumped forward and back in time with his sure, measured stride. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, but the temperature in La Paz was already 10 degrees hotter than when Stinson started his regular morning run. When he'd arrived the day before, his grandfather drove him to scope out a five-mile route, and the boy was only only a a few minutes away from finishing the final street he'd learned. Rivulets of sweat poured down his lean young chest, starting to soak his dark blue, nylon running shorts. It was hot that June, but at least it wasn't humid, like home in North Carolina. He could understand why his grandparents retired down here. At last, the retirement community gate was just ahead. The guard leaned out of his watch station to wave hello to the boy. "Luciendo bien, Stinson!" "Gracias, Rafael" the boy called out, as he ran past. The graceful strand of Mediterranean houses were uniformly neat and modern, with cactus gardens and palm trees in the front. Stinson slowed to walk the last couple of blocks from home, stretching in the warming Mexican morning air. His breathing slowed, and he watched hummingbirds chase each other across the road. Suddenly, a Ford Escape pulled out of a driveway right in front of him. An elderly man looked startled noticing Stinson almost a little too late. A boy about Stinson's age in the passenger seat called out through the open window: "Sorry!" Stinson smiled and yelled, "No worries." The boy looked kind of cute. Maybe Stinson would see him again. He could only hope. Keying in the lock combination to his grandparents' house, the young teen almost tripped over Chunk. The obese German Shepherd failed jumping to greet the boy, merely bouncing his front legs, and wagging his tail eagerly. Hearing his grandparents in the kitchen, Stinson called out to them, then hit the bathroom to shower. Peeling off his shorts, he checked himself out in the mirror. Slim and long-legged, his lean abs were bordered at the waist by his bleached white jock strap. Frowning, he wished the supporter were filled out. Sliding it off, Stinson stood up and was disappointed that his 3-inch dick hadn't miraculously grown overnight. Scratching his still hairless nuts, he was glad he at least had a small, thin bush at the base of his adolescent penis. 10 minutes later, he kissed his grandparents good morning, and they all sat down for breakfast. "Good run, Stin?" "Yeah, Grandma. Beautiful day," the boy replied. It was always nice on the Gulf of Mexico, which is why old people moved down there. "I still can't believe a teenager isn't sleeping in on summer vacation," his grandfather said, shaking his head. "Can't race triathlons if I don't work out, gramps." After a long walk with Chunk in a probably vain effort to help slenderize the dog, Stinson and his grandparents were a couple of miles out on a calm sea, slowly trawling for red snapper. It didn't matter where they went, his family fished. Since he'd just started his two-week visit with them, and they were on the water every day, it was a good thing Stinson never got sea sick. Docking a couple of hours later with a single mahi mahi to show for the effort, Stinson's grandpa, towering over the boy ruffled his mousey brown hair. "You'll hook something tomorrow, kiddo. Remember last summer?" He did. He'd pulled up half the ocean that day. Late in the afternoon, Stinson had the community pool to himself to swim laps. In the 100 degree heat, none of the retirees used the pool after 10 AM in the summer, and so his half-mile workout was as peaceful as it could be. Walking back to his grandparent's home with his damp towel around his neck, his goggles dangling casually from an index finger, Stinson passed the house where he'd almost been run over that morning. A few yards further, he heard a boy's voice call out." "Hey. Yo, dude!" Stinson turned, just as the boy from the car trotted up to him. Stinson smiled. He'd been right; the boy was cute. About his height, the blonde kid had light blue eyes, and longish hair a sweet little nose and pert lips. "Gaawd I hope we get to be friends," Stinson thought. "Hey, " Stinson said, a little nervously. "Just wanted to say I'm sorry my grandad almost flattened you," the boy said, grinning. "No worries. It's not like a lot of people are moving around here in the morning." "It's not like people move here at all," the boy said, and they both laughed. "I'm Brent," the blonde said, raising his hand to shake. "Stinson." "I know. Your grandparents are the Abbys," Brent chuckled at Stinson's shocked expression. "Everyone knows everyone else's shit down here. And my grandparents are friends with your's." As they talked Stinson caught Brent's eyes straying down to the front of his Speedo, then jerking his eyes back up. Realizing he'd been busted, Brent's lips curved with a slightly embarrassed smile, and his sun-tanned skin turned a little red. "You have a cool name, dude," Brent added, quickly recovering. "Thanks. I got it from some beach where my parents `conceived' me," Stinson replied, exaggerating the word, and they both laughed. "So, I hear you're from the South," Brent said, his struggling to keep his eyes from straying again. "Yeah, North Carolina. Near Wilmington," he replied. With an exaggerated drawl, Stinson added,"It's the home of real barbecue. Where y'all from?" Brent chuckled "Vancouver, BC." "You don't sound Canadian," With a cartoonish Ontario accent, Brent garbled, "Because I'm not all aboot Poutine on May two-four, eh?" Brent took a step closer, and Stinson sharply inhaled. He didn't dare hope the only boy his age in all of Old Folks' Mexico might be into guys. "Look, Stinson, you're the only other kid in this whole place," Brent said. "Can we hang out?" There was such pleading in Brent's eyes that Stinson could only smile back. Before he could open his mouth, Brent was almost whining, "Please, please, please?" "Yeah, I'd love to," Stinson said, thinking quickly. "Wanna come over for dinner?" Brent grinned and nodded fiercely. "Just gotta check with my grandparents. Your phone work down here?" Stinson nodded, and gave Brent his number. As the other boy walked toward his front door, Stinson checked out his very muscular calves, piercing down from baggy cargo shorts. Too bad he couldn't make out the shape of his ass. Just then, Brent turned and caught his gaze, and grinned. Now Stinson was busted, and turned red. His grandparents were playing cards when Stinson came in. Mentioning the boy he'd just met, his grandfather said, "Oh yeah. I forgot to mention the O'Malleys' grandson. He'll be down here for most of the summer helping out and practicing Spanish." "I hope you invited him over for dinner, Stin," his grandmother said. A couple of hours later, the middle schoolers were learning a lot more about each other over grilled mahi mahi. Brent was really into cartooning and mountain biking, and had even been an extra on some SciFi Channel show. Brent found out the Southern boy wasn't just a triathlon addict, but also a debate club nerd. "How you like La Paz?" Shirley Abby asked. "It's great," Brent replied, with forced enthusiasm. "Usually, my grandparents come up to Oregon for the summer. But you know my grandmother had that knee replacement, and my parents figured I could help out." Left unsaid was that he was the only grandchild that regularly came down to visit. Sensing the boy's need for company his own age, Bill said to his grandson, "Stinson, you don't need to spend every second minding us old farts. You boys should go sailing or snorkeling or something tomorrow." Stinson did mental cartwheels, but kept his cool and his grin under control. "If you're sure, Grandpa." Bill Abby, smiled and nodded, then kept the boys laughing through the rest of dinner. As Stinson walked Brent home, they made plans to go sailing the next day. Saying goodnight Brent suddenly hugged Stinson tightly. Blushing, he looked at his feet, then up into the other boy's dark eyes. "Um. That's how we say `Aloha,' in Vancouver." Both kids laughed nervously, and went their separate ways. ========================================================= A good wind picked up when the boys set sail in a little Sunfish borrowed from the retirement community's boathouse on the beach. Whenever they tacked course, each boy, lying sideways across from one another, tried to get the boat up on its rails enough to dunk the other's head. Secretly, they were also each trying to catch a glimpse up the legs of the long board shorts they wore that afternoon, and Brent had been disappointed Stinson hadn't worn his Speedo for their outing. As Stinson described triathlon training, Brent frowned in disbelief at the boy's commitment. When Stinson told him some professional racers didn't stop when they needed to poop, Brent was totally disgusted and laughing hilariously. And that lead to 20 minutes of shit jokes. Before they knew it, the boys were almost a half mile out, and that's when Brent spotted a gray fin cutting through the deep blue water. "Shark! Fuck! Stin! There's a shark!" The other boy looked over and saw the fish was cruising past about 30 yards away. It wasn't the first time he'd seen sharks, so he wasn't panicked, but knew there could be trouble if the boys swamped the tiny boat. "Don't worry, dude," he said calmly and quietly. "It's a reef shark and not interested in us. Let's just head back in." Despite his tan, Brent had gone pale, and Stinson made sure to tack conservatively, without raising the keel too much. Closer to shore, Brent apologized. "Sorry I was such a pussy out there." Stinson pulled off his sunglasses to look Brent directly in the eye. "Dude, you weren't a pussy. Most people never see sharks," Stinson said, putting his sunglasses back in place. "I go fishing a lot, and see Black Tips around the Outer Banks. If you're in clear water, they can tell you're not food. But up the muddy river where I live, we'll get bull sharks coming in from the sea. They're mean, and that's why I work out in a swimming pool." By the time they'd reached Brent's grandparents' house, the boys had their arms locked around each other's shoulders, and were arguing about Fortnite. Pulling away, Brent asked if Stinson wanted to stay over that night so they could play the game. "Hell yeah!" He replied a little too eagerly. Then added, "Gotta ask the grand-units, first." "Yeah, me too. I'll call you." Both boys smiled shyly before turning away. As Stinson walked home, he tried to keep his hopes and imagination under control. He hadn't touched another boy in 6 months, and that had been an awkward mutual jerk-off. Stinson practiced yoga breathing, willing his erection down. Brent was losing a similar battle with his own groin when he walked into his grandparents' house. Fortunately, they were both out, so he quickly stripped off his clothes, running downstairs to his basement bedroom to furiously rub one out. ============================================== Unlike Stinson's grandparents, the O'Malleys were more restrained, and almost aggressively polite, but funny in an understated way. Basically totally Canadian. After a fun, if overcooked dinner, everyone settled in to watch the Mariners play the A's on satellite TV. Stinson was a Rays fan, but put up with O'Malley exuberance. "We're going to bed, boys," Mr. O'Malley announced, after the Mariners won. "If you can, try to keep it down." After Brent kissed his grandparents goodnight, he quietly suggested to Stinson they go down to his room. "We don't have to worry about waking them up." With the idea of grandchildren in mind, the O'Malleys converted part of the basement into a sound proof bedroom, with twin beds below half windows near the low ceiling. The air conditioning was at least 10 degrees cooler, so the room was actually cold. Handing Stinson his iPad, Brent asked him to launch Fornite, while he left to brush his teeth. Unfortunately, the connection was for shit. "I don't think we can play down here," Stinson said, when Brent returned. The log-in screen took a half-minute to load. "I've got a bunch of movies downloaded, if that's OK." Stinson shrugged, "Yeah, anything." Then Brent quietly mentioned, "Uh, I don't sleep in pajamas." "Me neither," Stinson said. He'd brought the basketball shorts he usually slept in when staying with relatives. He took his time finding his toothbrush, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brent changing into whatever he slept in. The Canadian pulled off his t-shirt, and dropped his cargo shorts, leaving himself in a pair of snug, light blue hip briefs, thinly striped with navy lines. As he bent over to pick up his clothes, Stinson couldn't help but stare at the well-defined, slender bottom aimed at him. Maybe he stared too long, because Brent caught him through the corner of his eye, and as he turned, a little smile tugged on his lips, and the bump in the front of his briefs grew a little. Quickly turning toward the door, Stinson made a fast beeline to the bathroom, praying in futility for his hardening dick to wilt. As he got ready for bed, nothing would work, and he figured basketball shorts would cover the situation stretching his tight, orange boxer briefs. But then, that would make him look timid in his friend's eye, he thought. He'd have to brave it out. Shutting the bedroom door, Stinson stood between the beds, with his back turned to Brent, and pulled off his clothes. Brent's studied every detail of his new friend's lean, athletic back. His broad swimmer's shoulder's complemented an athletically-sculpted ass nicely barely hidden through stretchy fabric. Stinson quickly climbed under his covers, trying to hide the pole tenting the length of his underpants, but Brent got a good eye-full and smiled. "Hey Stin," Brent said, "I've loaded up `Thor Ragnarok,' but you won't be able to see it from over there." "Uh, yeah,' Stinson replied. "Um, I guess we can't really watch a movie like this." Please don't make me go over there, he silently prayed. "Why don't you come over here and we can watch it together," Brent said, patting the bed, delighting in his friend's obvious discomfort. "No, wait, I'll watch it with you." In a flash Brent was out of his bed, and climbing into Stinson's, and the Southern Boy caught a glimpse of a domed cylinder stretching up the front of the Canadian's small, snug briefs. Brent snuggled up against his friend. "This is nice warm, right? This room's always freezing." Stinson sighed, and tried to relax. But all he could think about was the smooth, warm, mostly naked body pressed against his. The cute blonde might be scared of sharks, but he was fearless around people, and it was Stinson's turn to remain rigid, both in fear and in the crotch. With casual innocence, enjoying Stinson's barely contained tension, Brent rested the iPad across both their tummies and started the movie. His unused hand lay across his own chest, for 15 or so minutes, then he slid it under the covers, resting his palm on both their thighs. Brent could almost feel Stinson holding his breath, and he barely surpassed a giggle. A few minutes later, Brent's fingers slid to the inside of the Stinson's thigh, and he heard the other boy breath in sharply. Slowly and delicately, Brent drew his hand up and down the warm, bare surface below Stinson's very short boxer briefs. The Canadian could feel the Southerner slightly trembling, and teased him for a few more minutes. Then Brent turned to look the other 13-year-old in the face. Stinson returned his gaze, with wide eyes, and a mouth slightly slack with awe and desire. Brent's hand glided up to where Stinson's thighs met, palming the other boy's throbbing, diamond hardness, while tickling his nuts with two fingers. Stinson gasped, briefly closing his eyes. "Oh Gawwhuuh...Brent, I hoped...I hoped you were into guys." Brent was quietly amused. "You couldn't figure that out? I usually light up most boys' gaydar like a Christmas tree." Rolling onto his side, and spreading his legs a little for better access, Stinson looked deeply into Brent's eyes, and reached under the covers to caress Brent's torso. "How did you know? I mean, how did you know I was gay?" In his mind, both of them could be taken for totally straight. "Um, well, it's the way you look at my face. And my ass," Brent said, giggling. "You're so cute. Right now, you look a little like a deer seeing a bear." Smiling tenderly at the Southern boy, he reached with his unused hand under the covers, pulling Stinson's hand to the throbbing pole stretching up the front of his snug little briefs. Just as a smile started to stretch across Stinson's face, and his eyes opened wider, Brent pulled his hand away from Stinson's and reached from out of the cover to comb through the boy's short, mousey brown hair. Stinson nervously froze again, and Brent smiled, reassuringly. "Relax, dude," he whispered. Changing subjects, he softly said, "I really like your hair. Have you ever grown it long?" Stinson sighed. "Sorry, Brent. It's just, um, I'm a little..." "Nervous?" Brent suggested, changing his hand to grip the other boy gently with with his fist. Stinson's tension finally broke and he chuckled. "Yeah. Nervous as fuck." Gently squeezing Brent through his undies, Stinson committed to memory every detail of the blond Canadian's pubescence. "I've just...uh...not been...uh...." "Shut up, dude, and let me kiss you," Brent said, leaning in to press his lips against Stinson's. The other boy froze again for a moment. He'd only kissed one other boy. It'd been his best friend in 6th grade, and they both wanted to know what it was like. But while Stinson had been really into it, Ernie was just into clinical exploration. So this was his first real kiss with a boy, and he melted into it. Their lips caressed, Brent leading Stinson into increasing passion.Soon, their tongues wrestled languidly, then more passionately. At the same time, their gripping fists slowly stroked each other's poles through their textile restraints. Stinson's heart was bursting with joy and feverish desire. He'd never been with a boy so free to express himself though finger and word. At the same time, Brent's normally carefree attitude toward everything was turning to tenderness toward the handsome boy. Brent felt something more than just sexual desire, and he pulled Stinson on top of himself. Their penises throbbed against each other through their undies, and both boys shivered. Brent spread his legs, and wrapped his calves behind Stinson's. Automatic impulses took over, and Stinson's hips began to grind. His rigid pole plowed against Brent's, and the other boy pushed back, finding a rhythm for their hungry grinding. Gradually rubbing faster they built a fierce friction, and were breathing harder in moments. "Uuuuhhh...Stin, you feel so good!" Brent huffed. "You're so warm and hard!" Stinson gasped, quickly kissing Brent on the cheek, while shifting his weight to his knees, and pulling his arms under the the boy's back. Grasping him by the shoulders from underneath, Stinson pulled himself harder into Brent, with gritty desperation. Growling through grinding teeth, Brent shifted his legs up to lock around Stinson's thighs, then grabbed him by the steely buns with both hands. He could feel the other boy's buttocks clenching with every pump, and he squeezed those athletic globes in time with every penis-pounding plunge. The fire built fast, and Stinson's moans grew with his panting. "Gonna...can't hold it...Brent!" "That's it, Stin! Hump me harder!" "Grraaaaauuuuuhhh!" Stinson cried, as his hips plowed once, twice, three more times, and jets of watery boy seed burst out of his young cock, into his tight underpants. Heaving slowly, he opened his eyes, and realized Brent hadn't yet cum. His own dick was too sensitive to plow anymore, so he balanced on one elbow, while reaching with his other hand to wrap his fist around the other Brent's slender pestle. Steamy, throbbing heat filled his hand, and he quickly began buffing Brent's turgid boyhood through tight, stretchy fabric. Yeeeeees! Stin... Gawwwd! Brent moaned "Faster!" Brent's hips rhythmically punched against every stroke to his textile trapped boyhood. For Stinson, the fast, high-pitched moans Brent piped with every breath were as angelic as the blonde boy's face rapturously bursting and eyelids fluttering. Brent's body writhed, and his head hammered back into the pillow like a metronome. And then the friction was too much, and the itchy heat built in Brent's cock, while his pubescent balls strained in their small sack. "STIIIIIIIN!" Brent cried out, as his balls churned their tiny payload. His stomach tightened like sculpted marble, and rainbows seemed to wash out his body. Gasping and pumping into Stinson's hand, Brent's ears filled with rhythmic vibrations, and he almost left his body. Stinson stopped stroking Brent, and merely held him while the other boy thrust against his hand a few more times. Stinson could feel a small dampness meeting his fingers though the Brent's snug and sexy little undies. At last, the Canadian boy's shoulders relaxed, and his arched back flopped down. "Holy shit," Brent sighed, out of breath. "That's the best orgasm I've ever had. And if that's just our first time, you might break my dick!" Both boys chuckled and grinned. "I think I'll just just stretch it out a bit." Stinson smiled, licking his lips. "Yeah, well, it could use some stretching," Brent sighed and pouty. "I'm sorry I'm not really big. "Dude, what I felt was perfect," Stinson tried to assure his friend. Gently rolling Stinson off and onto his back, then pulling down the bed covers, Brent could see through the light of the ignored iPad movie the Southern boy's semi-hard bulge, pressing against a large spot of tight, wet fabric. He knelt beside the Stinson's legs, running his fingers up Stinson's thighs, glad the orange boxer briefs were cut short, so there was more steely leg to caress. Reaching the bottom hem of Stinson's undies, Brent pulled, and the other boy raised his bottom to help. "Let's get you out of these wet things," Brent said with a smirk, "and into something wetter." Stinson giggled as he lay naked for inspection. Brent got off the bed to grab a t-shirt, and used it to wipe up the smattering of semen drenching Stinson's softening circumcised cock and base. He took his time with Stinson's small bush, playing with the sparse forest of soft brown hair. Stinson's nuts were much bigger than his own, held in a still hairless sack. Brent was much less developed, and hoped Stinson wouldn't be disappointed with his junk. As Brent continued to play with Stinson's pubic hair, the boy's dick twitched, and started to grow again. It was framed in a pallid triangle from Stinson's Speedo against less pale flesh, and further down, the Mexican sun had colored his legs into a pinkish burn line where shorts fell over his lean, long-muscled lets. All the while, Stinson had been scoping out every inch of his new friend. Slender, yet sturdy, mountain-biking-toned legs emerged from his tightly gripping leg elastic, with a tan dividing creamy skin from golden brown, half-way down Brent's thighs. His slender globes pressed out against the navy blue lines on his snug hip briefs like a couple of grapefruits. A small dab of moisture formed above the soft lump pressing out the front Brent's undies. "Let me take those off you," Stinson said, just as Brent was reaching for his own waistband. Brent pulled his hands away, grinning while Stinson stood before him. With a strange, new confidence, Stinson brushed back Brent's longish hair and lay a kiss on the other boy's neck. Then he bent to kiss down his friend's slender chest. Brent's upper body was slender, but not muscled like Stinson's When Stinson got to his nipples, Brent shivered, and wrapped his arms around the other boy's head, holding him in place. Getting the idea, Stinson lingered over each nipple, kissing and licking, and then gently sucking each. He'd watched enough straight porn with friends to know some mechanics, but he'd never thought this really could have such an effect on another person, let a lone a boy. But Brent shut his eyes, started writhing and gently moaned. Stinson kissed around Brent's tummy, and saw that the lump in the boy's undies had become rigid once again, rhythmically straining the front of its woven prison. His own dick was beating like a Labrador's tail, and he couldn't wait to see and feel Brent's treasures. Grasping the waistband with both hands, Stinson carefully lowered Brent's briefs. They still caught his dick, snapping it up against his pubic mound, before it settled at a pulsating diagonal angle. Three and a half slender inches pulsed with Brent's heartbeat, a moist, pink slit dome visible in a circle at the front of his foreskin. A smattering of downy blond hairs you could count on one hand ringed his base. Brent's smooth sack was only a little bigger than a golf ball, and firmly attacked to the boy's thunderously thrumming erection. There was only a bit of clear moisture left on Brent's penis and pubic mound, and Stinson used the boy's briefs to quickly mop that up. "Your dick is beautiful, Brent," Stinson quietly said. "I've never seen an uncut one up close. I've also never seen one hard, either." Brent smiled, and used a thumb and forefinger to skin it slowly back and forward and forward a few times. "Great thing is I don't need any hand lotion to play with my dick head." Gently pushing Stinson onto the bed, Brent lay down beside him, and gently kissed the boy for lingering moments, while tracing his fingers around the triathlete's firm chest. Stinson caressed down Brent's slender side, to his bare hip and back. "This was going to be the most boring summer ever," Brent sighed. "I'm so glad a hot boy came to town." "Hot?" Stinson chucked, wrinkling his nose "Really?" 
"Dude, you ever look in a mirror? You must have guys lining up to suck your dick." Stinson sighed. "Nobody but my family knows I'm gay," he said. "Well, also my best friend from elementary school, but he moved away." "What? It's like 2019, dude. Don't you have a Gay Student Alliance or something?" "It may be 2019 in most of North America, but in most of North Carolina it could be 1970," Stinson laughed grimly. He talked about learning how to jerk off and kiss with his Earl in 5th grade, and how they'd started to suck each other off in sixth. Watching online porn, they'd tried to trade "corn holes" once, but couldn't really figure it out. Then Earl moved away, and the only other things he'd done with boys were the products of 7th and 8th grade desperation, where he'd watch porn with friends. The other boys would pretend Stinson's hand was a girl's. Stinson would pretend the other boys were into him. It was sad, and as he said, "I'm so fucking lucky meeting you,' tears formed in his eyes. Brent wrapped his arms around Stinson, hugging the boy to him. Tenderly, he rocked Stinson, while he heard the boy sniffling against his head. Brent's protectiveness was an invisible shield surrounding the two adolescents. Stinson might be physically strong, and brave against physical danger, but he had a vulnerability that Brent needed to heal. When the boys at last drew away, their erections had faded, but their love was emerging. Neither dared say it, though. Instead, Brent wiped away Stinson's tears, kissed his nose, and combed his fingers through the boy's hair. "So what's 2019 like for you in Vancouver?" Stinson asked with quiet curiosity. "Sharing a bedroom with a big brother, you can end up on the business end of hormones," Brent chuckled. Glen was four years older than Brent, and the brothers were close. He remembered waking up one night, hearing his brother breathing deeply, while his bed squeak-squeak-squeaked, and a flurry of motion ruffled Glen's blanket. Brent didn't think much about it at the time, and just went back to sleep. But a couple of weeks later, he came home early from Little League, and walked into their shared bedroom unannounced. "Shit! Don't you knock?!" His brother shouted. It was weird, because they never knocked coming into their own room. That would changed immediately. Glen was lying on his bed, with his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and the 12-year-old had his thumb and index finger wrapped around his still diminutive pubescence. "Get in and close the door," Glen said quietly, calmly resigned to being busted. Brent asked what he was doing, and his older brother explained masturbation. Within moments, both boys had stripped off all their clothes, and Glen taught his brother how to kiss, and how to stroke another boy's cock. A couple of times a week, he'd wake up to find Glen's hand rubbing his tummy, then sliding into his pajamas and undies. The older boy, wearing only his briefs, would slip in bed to satiate his growing needs. Within months, Glen introduced Brent to sucking, and the younger boy was only too happy to perfect his technique, before sharing this skill with friends in the 5th grade. When Glen turned 14, he'd gradually, and gently introduced Brent to anal, which the 10-year-old grew to love. But it was a good thing Glen found a girlfriend when he was fifteen, because his growth spurt left him with a monstrously thick cock. Still, every now and then, Brent and Glen would suck each other to sleep. "Dude, that's so lit," Stinson replied, his eyes wide, and his cock rigid once again from envisioning his friend fucking and sucking his way from 4th grade on. "Just boys having fun," Brent replied. "Like you and me." Brent leaned in to kiss the Southerner passionately. Stinson was happy to let the more experienced boy lead, and was soon on his back, the Canadian's hardness pressing into his own. The boys licked and nibbled each other's lips, and then Brent kissed his way to Stinson's ear, which he gently nibbled, then probed into the canal with his tongue. Stinson quietly squealed, and goosebump flew up. Judging by the boy's writhing, Brent knew he'd found a special spot, and spent a minute gently drilling Stinson with his soft, wet poker. Then, he kissed down the boy's neck and chest, making Stinson moan when he kissed and sucked each hard nipple, while tweaking the other with his fingers. Brent's lips trailed down Stinson's slender, well-defined abs, making the boy shiver. At last, he crossed the milky divide of Stinson's Speedo line, where the tip of his raging 5 inches almost reached. It was pale and beautiful, and Brent couldn't see any veins. A single bead of clear moisture was slowly dripping from Stinson's circumcised head. Avoiding Stinson's cock, Brent dragged his tongue around its perimeter, like a police chalk-line at a crime scene. Stinson was quietly whimpering, and his dick pulsed. Brent sat on his ankles between Stinson's spread legs, to run his hands up and down the inside of those sinewy thighs. Leaning down, Brent kissed the the underside of Stinson's knob, then tickled the frenulum with the tip of his tongue. As he gently swabbed around Stinson's quaking crown, he could taste the a very faint, salty and sweet flavor of boy honey. At the same time, Brent gently clasped Stinson's scrotum in one hand, rubbing each of the boy's nuts with his thumb. Making an "o" around the base of Stinson's five inches with the thumb and index finger of his other hand, Brent slowly stroked the boy's base, while treating his helmet like a lollipop. Increasing the speed of his stroking for moments, he'd slow down again, kissing and licking Stinson's achingly hard stalk. Brent washed every last millimeter of middle school penis churning in his fingertips. Stinson had never felt anything like this. When he and Earl traded blow jobs, they imitated what they saw in porn, just moving their mouths up and down each other's small, pre-pubescent organs until they sparkled with dry cums. Brent brought lingering, loving, torturous oral pleasure, and Stinson was whimpering and gasping. His hips began rocking on their own. He needed to cum so badly, but he wanted this to go on forever. Pulling off Stinson's cock for a second, Brent whispered up to the boy, "Let me know when you're ready to shoot." Pulling his hand away from Stinson's bag for a second, he wet his middle finger with his mouth, then palmed the boy's balls again, while sliding his moistened finger up the boy's muscular crevice. Just as Stinson wondered what Brent was going to do with that intruding finger, he felt hot lips seal under the ridge of his helmet. Fierce suction assaulted his tender head, while the tip of Brent's tongue worked quickly against his pee hole, and Stinson cried out. Brent's finger swirled gentle circles around Stinson's tightly clenching hole, and it felt strangely nice. But he soon forgot about the finger when Brent's slid Stinson's cock all the way into his mouth, partially into the boy's throat. Then, Brent began rhythmic suctioning with his cheeks and tongue, from his lips to his jaw, undulating his hot, wet mouth meat. Every so often, he would squeeze Stinson's knob with swallowing motions. Pulling back almost all the way, Brent would torment Stinson's head with his tongue tip and lips, then slide him back in again. Stinson was gripping the bed with both fists, moaning with every breath. Sometimes, he sounded like a little girl in pain. Around the tenth cycle, Stinson gasped, "I'm about there!" Expecting Brent would pull off but continue stroking him, Stinson was shocked when the other boy leaned back to sit on his heels, taking all sensation away from his cock. Even Brent's intruding finger froze, and Stinson whined in frustration as his orgasm receded. "Dammit, Brent, I needed to blow!" Brent giggled. "Not just yet, Stinny." Having learned the signs of Stinson's build-up, Brent slowly sucked him with lips and tongue and cheek and tonsil, bringing him to the point of shooting, then quickly backing away. By the third time Brent brought him to the edge, Stinson's nuts seemed to have permanently contracted into the boy's body. "Pleeeeeease, Brent! Please let me cum!" "OK, Stin. Give all your sperm!" Gripping Stinson more firmly at the root with two fingers and thumb, and gently pressing into the Southern rose bud with his other hand, Brent slid his lips around his friend's knob. Bobbing all the way to where his stroking fingers worked Stinson's root, Brent sucked harder with his cheeks and tongue, working up and back in harmony with Stinson's thrusting hips. At the same time, Brent's own dick, untouched and pounding against frictionless air was so desperate for release that if he'd touched himself, he might have accidentally bitten his friend in two. Brent worked Stinson's cock harder, his head and fingers racing to bring the triathlete to the volcanic eruption his trembling body needed. Brent's probing finger at last impaled Stinson, and worked in to find the little acorn of pleasure. Rubbing it gently, while sucking Stinson harder, Brent heard a garbled, "I aaaaUUUUhhhh!" A gush of hot, salty boy lava hit the back of his throat, as Stinson's hips rocked up. Brent barely swallowed, when another, smaller jet hit the back of his mouth. Stinson was heaving, and moaning, and his back arched. He was shooting drily by the third pulse, and then gently, collapsed into a sighing puddle. Sweating in the A/C chilled air, Stinson almost sobbed in bliss. Never had another boy shown the same desire as he, unabashed and unrestrained. Brent hopped up to lay beside him, smiling at his flushed face. "That was...I've never felt anything like that," Stinson whispered. "Sssshhhh," Brent said, before gently kissing Stinson. "I'm going to make sure you feel something like that again and again." Even through his sexual exhaustion, Stinson laughed. "OK," he said quietly through a wide grin. "But first, I'm gonna do you like you did me." Rolling onto his side, Stinson sealed his lips onto Brent's. As they moaned into each other's mouths, Stinson finger's slid down the front of Brent's soft, yet slender torso, finding the Canadian's turgid boyhood. Just as he gripped Brent firmly, Stinson heard the boy squeal something like "nuuuuuuuuuh!!!" Into his mouth. Brent's body shook, and and he groaned wordlessly, while his hardness throbbed 3 or 4 times in Stinson's hand, and a tiny wetness bubbled between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, Brent stopped shaking, and the boys pulled their lips apart. "Shit. Shit. Shit," Brent huffed. "I'm sorry. You're just so fucking hot, I..." This time, Stinson shushed Brent. "I'm sorry. I'm not great at this." "Dude," Brent said, staring deeply into the other boy's eyes. "You really are good. You only needed to touch me. Good thing we have all night to work on our timing.' ====================================================== A perfect day for running along the Sound, and Stinson's measured strides were effortless on the sand. The breeze buffed gently on exposed skin, naked everywhere but for the jock strap he was wearing. He usually ran in shorts, but this was even better. Then Brent jogged up along side him, also clad only in a supporter, stretching visibly from a pole pushing almost straight out, like the bow of a canoe. Smiling, Brent tackled Stinson into the surf, and the water was like a bathtub. It sluiced through the cloth straining against his now engorged boyhood. He and Brent were laughing and wrestling, and their fingers stroked each other through their supporters. The hot water surged around his balls and suddenly he gasped like a landed fish as his cock exploded - And woke with his cock in Brent's mouth, erupting with a trickle of boy sauce, before pulsing drily and softening. "Morning, Stin," the other boy smirked, licking his lips. "You know you talk in your sleep? I mean, at least when you're getting blown." "Fuck, dude. That's a hell of an alarm clock you talk with," Stinson replied with a grin. "Let's see what comes out of it when your dick is in my mouth." "No need," Brent replied. "I couldn't wait and took care of myself while I was, uh, waking you up." They both laughed, just as there was a knock on the door, and Mrs. O'Malley called out that breakfast was ready. "Also? No time," Brent said. As they got dressed, Brent asked if Stinson would coach him to be a better swimmer. He really wanted an upper body like the Southerner. They made plans for later. "After you improve my breaststroke, Stinny, I'll show you the Victoria Island Penis Stroke." ================================================================== Part 2 Coming Soon.