Date: Sat, 11 Apr 2020 16:36:46 +0000
From: kleiner.gespenst <kleiner.gespenst@protonmail.com>
Subject: Boy on the Run | Part 2 - REVISED

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A story of two middle school boys meeting on vacation in Mexico.

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Brent was cycling hard that hot June afternoon in La Paz, and sweat soaked
his t-shirt from Mexico's summer heat. He couldn't wait to get back to his
grandparents' retirement community after his Spanish tutoring session in
the city's center. Usually, the slender blond would finish his
thrice-weekly hour-long lesson and spend a couple more hours chatting with
locals about soccer in the market, then take his mountain bike up the hills
surrounding his grandparents' ex-pat community. Today, though, he was
racing back, and his bicycle seat was teasing his prostate, which was
making his boner even harder.

The night before, his new friend Stinson - a boy from North Carolina -
slept over, and the two 13-year olds were quickly gravitating together like
binary stars. From Vancouver, Brent was much more sexually experienced than
the Southern boy, and over a few hours, taught Stinson a lot of what a
mouth could do to pleasure another boy's penis.

Reliving the experience In his mind, Brent could barely drift through
conversational nonsense, as his boy bone surged and stayed hard in
anticipation of meeting Stinson at the retirement community pool. The other
boy was a competitive triathlete, and agreed to coach Brent to be a better
swimmer. They'd set a time when Stinson would be through with his pool work
out, and Brent practically flew into his room to change into his baggie
bathing suit. Uncontrolled in board shorts, his hardness pressed like a
boat prow against the Volcom fabric. Sighing, he stripped again, pulling
his tight black hip briefs back on first, so at least his erection was
fastened up behind his board shorts' fly.

Grabbing a towel and throwing on his flip flops, Brent quickly trotted past
rows of Mediterranean modern homes to the pool, two blocks away. As he
unlatched the fence gate, Brent could hear loud, measured explosions of
water through the hedge of bougainvillea lining the fence.

Noisily churning down one of the pool's lanes, Stinson's butterfly looked
like a porpoise rhythmically breaking the surface and crashing into the
shallow blue. His lean muscles strained, and Brent was mesmerized by the
vision of fluid power. Throwing his towel on a chaise lounge and sat down
to watch Stinson. When the Southern boy reached the shallow end, he caught
sight of his friend, and quickly stood in the four-foot depth, pulling his
goggles up.

"Hey!" He called.

"Hey dude," Brent replied. "Don't stop your work out for me."

"No worries, Brent," Stinson said. "I was just fucking around. You'll never
see a triathlete competing with butterfly."

"Sweet," Brent replied. "Can't wait to get moist."

Both boys laughed as Brent stood up and walked toward the pool.

"Wait, Brent," Stinson said. "Boardies aren't the best. They'll drag your
kicks and slow you down."

Looking around quickly, Brent saw the area was deserted and quickly untied
his board swim suit. It dropped to his ankles before Stinson could say
anything. Amused, the southerner smiled as Brent walked toward the pool in
his snug and skimpy briefs. Seeing the pole tenting the front of his
friend's undies, Stinson laughed, and felt his own boyhood engorge.

"Uh, not what I was thinking, though you do look fucking sexy," Stinson
said, while readjusting his spandex-stretching bone.

Brent stopped short, looking curiously at Stinson. "You want me to skinny
dip?" He started to reach for his waistband.

Laughing even harder, the Stinson replied, "No, dude! Go over there," he
said, pointing to his towel on a chair. "There's one of my spare Speedos,
and a pair of goggles."

Shrugging and giggling, Brent turned away. "If you insist." Walking to the
chair, Brent pulled the back of his waistband down to reveal half his crack
for his friend, then snapped the elastic. Picking up the small lycra swim
briefs, he admired the white sides and light blue front and back, and
entered the pool house's empty men's locker room. He could as well have
changed outside, but he wanted to use the mirror. Swapping his briefs for
the slick Lycra, Brent felt his bone get impossibly harder from the
stretchy compression on his junk. He and Stinson were about the same size,
so the Speedo fit perfectly. And he loved the way the bathing suit
highlighted his contours, especially his pulsating pole. Brent could almost
see his peephole outlines in skin-tight fabric. He pulled the goggles on
his forehead and trotted out.

Brent tossed his undies and turned back and forth for Stinson's inspection.

"What do you think?" He asked the brown-haired boy, grinning.

"Perfect!" Stinson replied, growing even harder in his own Speedo. "But
your string isn't tied. Get in here and let me take care of that," he said
with a grin.

In flash, Brent was in the water, and in his arms. Their lips met for a
long, lingering kiss, while their arms traced around their wet, rubbery
backs. The boys' erections pounded against each other, tapping out
cardiovascular messages of desire.

"Mmmmm...Couldn't wait for this all day," Brent whispered into Stinson's
ear.

"Why do you think I was working out so hard?" Stinson replied across the
other boy's cheek. "I needed to think about something other than your hot
little ass!"

Pulling away, Stinson looked down at Brent's bathing suit, refracting
dizzily through the moving water. Finding the Speedo strings, he properly
tied up his friend's bathing suit, then palmed Brent's Spandex-snuggled boy
pole. Brent sighed.

"These things feel so...smooth. Really nice," Brent said quietly. "I used
to think they were kinda silly." Reaching for Stinson's crotch, Brent ran
his fingers up and down the pole throbbing up the front of the Southerner's
swim briefs. "Now I think they're sexy. But they're not much smaller than
my underwear. Why bother switching?"

Stinson chuckled. "The water would pull them off in about two seconds,"
which might not be such a bad thing, he thought.

He knew about this from experience - not his own, fortunately. One day in
3rd grade boy's swim league, one of Stinson's friends had shown up for
practice forgetting his bathing suit. Figuring he could just swim in his
tightie-whities, the boy's underwear kept peeling off every 3 meters, much
to the hilarity of the other boys. The coach put the boy on a kick board
for the rest of the session.

As Brent continued rubbing him, Stinson quietly groaned, closed his eyes,
and gently squeezed Brent in turn. After a few moments, he pulled his hand
away. "Uhh, why don't we do a little work out, first?"

Brent whined and pouted, while Stinson pulled the boy's goggles over his
eyes, and adjusted the fit. All the while, Brent rubbed Stinson's turgid
lump until his friend pulled his hand away, chuckling. "You can molest the
fuck out of me after you do a few laps, OK?"

Brent grinned, and nodded. "As long as it's only a few."

Stinson pulled himself onto the deck edge, sitting to observe Brent's front
crawl. After two laps, Stinson stopped the other 13-year-old, and coached
him on proper hand positions and arm strokes. Then he brought Brent over to
the edge and had him hold on to the edge with his hands.

"You have to kick with straight legs," Stinson said, supporting Brent's
lean tummy with one hand. Stinson made a few gentle corrections, all the
while admiring his friend's mountain-biking toned legs. Stouter than his
own, Brent's thighs intersected with a gorgeous, firm bubble butt breaking
the water like a turtle rocking on its sides.

Stinson's supporting hand trailed down, past Brent's waistband, first
holding the boy up by his pubic mound, then his softened penis. Brent
squealed, his kicks grew clumsy, and the squishy lump swelled in its lycra
prison. Stinson gently squeezed.

"Hey!" Brent cried. "No fair!"

"Focus, dude," Stinson mock-chided his friend, while chuckling. "In a real
competition, you have to ignore things like this." He just wished there
were a swim meet with fondling challenges.

Holding Brent's belly up with one arm wrapped underneath, Stinson gently
stroked the boy's pounding hardness with his palm. The slick, gripping
material revealed every detail of the Canadian's cock and balls, and
Stinson's own tumescence was diamond hard.

Fuck swim lessons, he thought. "Stop kicking for a second," Stinson told
Brent. "Just float like that."

Parting Brent's legs, Stinson dipped under one of the boy's thighs, then
stood up in the fleshy split between his friends' legs, pressing his
hardness into a firm mass of taint and buns. When Stinson reached down and
around to clasp Brent's raging hardness again. Brent gasped, flailed, and
pressed his crotch into his friend's hand.

"Keep kicking!" Stinson commanded, with joking severity. He couldn't hold
his laugher.

"Yes, Coach!" Brent replied, giggling. But it was hard work kicking with
straight spread legs, and he quickly tired. For those brief moments,
Stinson sighed while Brent's bottom massaged his turgid boyhood, and he
couldn't believe his friend could keep going that long. Brent's legs
collapsed, and Stinson stroked up and down his slick, hairless thighs,
squeezing them gently.

Though he figured Brent would want to get up, he was surprised when the
Canadian hooked his legs around Stinson's butt to pull him into his own
ass.

"You feel so nice there, Stinny," Brent heaved, a little out of
breath. "Let me lay on the tiles."

In moments, Brent's head and shoulders were on the deck, while his torso
curved down so legs continued to lock around Stinson's ass.

Stinson slid his fingers around Brent's slender and sinewy back, tracing
down to the outside of the boy's firm buns, then around to the front of the
boy's tight swim briefs. With one hand, he cupped Brent's ball pouch, and
he clasped the Canadian's turgid bone with his other hand.

Slowly, Stinson rubbed and squeezed Brent through his Speedo, and the
sensation of silky, wet fabric buffing the Canadian's cock brought gasps
out of both boys. Brent squeezed his legs around Stinson, drinking in the
sensation of warm, drenched thigh against warm, drenched thigh. With his
heels, he pulled Stinson against his firm bottom, feeling the pounding love
pole grinding against his perineum and between his buttocks.

Within moments, Stinson was thrusting harder and faster into Brent, while
stroking the boy in time. Breathing hard, the Southern boy also kept an eye
out to make sure they were still alone. But soon, he could care less if
they were busted as he pounded and rubbed, and pounded and rubbed. Speedo
strangled friction was building a fire the pool water couldn't quench, and
Brent whispered, "Harder, Stin. Please, don't stop."

Stinson's violently thrusting hips began splashing water all over the deck,
and Brent's submerged pelvis rocked hard to meet every one of the other
boy's gripping pulls. Hump, hump, humping and stroke, stroke, stroking, the
middle-schoolers filled the pool area with mounting moans until Brent
squealed. His fists beat onto the hard deck tiles, while his pubescent orbs
squeezed in their lycra restraints, propelling a washing white fire out
from his loins. Brent's cock erupted in his Speedo, as Stinson pulled three
strong jets of adolescent manna out, before his own cock plowed into
Brent's tightly-wrapped butt canyon with an explosive heave. Grunting from
the astonishing, glorious feeling of his cock ravaging his friend's buns
through layers of pliant, stretchy material, his high pitch groan echoed in
the pool enclosure.

Three, four, five times he pounded into Brent, as the other boy collapsed
onto the pool deck. As Stinson slowed to a halt, his cock pulsed, then
pressed with uncomfortable sensitivity against his friend's crack.

Like slowly undulating octopuses, the boys untangled, and Brent turned
around, facing Stinson, and pulled his goggles off his flushed face. As
Stinson pull off his own goggles from his forehead, Brent wrapped his arms
through his friends and around the boy's back, pulling him in for a tender
kiss.

Pulling away, Brent sighed. "I needed that so bad."

Stinson smiled into his friend's sky blue eyes. "I'm going to need it every
day I'm with you."

"I just wish you weren't leaving next week." Both boys frowned at the
thought. Stinson was only in La Paz visiting his grandparents for 2 weeks,
while Brent would be in Mexico until mid-August.

Stinson had an idea he kept to himself, and changed the subject. "So, how
about a few more laps, before we call it a day?"

Totally relaxed, Brent smiled, and pulled his goggles down over his
eyes. "Yeah, dude. Let's see if I have this right.'

As Brent started swimming down the lane, Stinson studied the boy's form,
then looked down to readjust his package, and re-tie his string. When he
did, a long white goo snake slithered from his Speedo. Horrified, Stinson
quickly tied his swim suit up, then frantically began shoveling water out
of the pool. The more he tried, the more he broke apart the strands of
semen, which never dissolved, but merrily danced in the pool. He was at it
so long, he didn't notice Brent at his side until the other boy started
laughing.

"Houston, we have a problem!" Brent cackled.

Stinson's horror turned to hilarity. It was ridiculous. But they couldn't
leave a thousand white snakes rotating around a senior citizen's
pool. Fortunately, Brent spotted the leaf net hanging on the side of the
filter shed. After both boys got out into the hot, late afternoon air, they
managed to de-semen the pool with the skimmer.

"So, I guess maybe we should shower before we head home?" Stinson
said. "And, uh, maybe not cum in a swimming pool in the future?"

"Yeah, I can think of better places for your spooge, anyway" and both boys
laughed, walking to the empty locker room. Around the corner from the empty
lockers, the boys chose one of the four, glass-doored showers, and turned
on the faucets. Hot from the ambient Mexican heat, they kept the water
mildly warm as they stepped in. Draping their arms around one another for a
lingering kiss, they soon had their Speedos off, and carefully rinsed them
out. Then, they spent a long time carefully washing each other's squeaky
slick flesh with copious soap.

Foamy and slippery, they slithered and twined, and their rigid cocks
thumped between their squeezing, rubbery bodies, while they sealed their
lips together. After rinsing each other clean, Stinson lowered to his
knees, grasping Brent's 3.5 inch hardness by the slender root, smiling up
at to meet the Canadian's grin. Turning back to the slender boyhood
throbbing between his thumb and two fingers, Stinson kissed the little red
eye peering out from Brent's foreskin porthole.

Then, tenderly, Stinson tickled Brent's urethra with his tongue
tip. Occasionally glancing up to Brent for approval, he burrowed delicately
a millimeter or two under Brent's hood, slowly worming around the
circumference, making the boy shiver with every rotation. Using only his
tongue, Stinson slowly unsheathed Brent's bright red helmet, and then
pursed and unpursed his lips around the hypersensitive knob. Caressing
Brent's smooth little golf-ball sized scrotum with one hand, he stroked his
own 5-inch adolescence with the other.

A brief, high-pitched moan escaped Brent's lips before he remembered that
only an opaque glass door separated the boys from any retiree wandering
into the locker room. Running his fingers through the warm water streaming
down both sides of Stinson's head, he sighed when his friend slid him all
the way into his mouth. What Stinson lacked in experience he made up for
with gusto, sucking and licking from Brent's pee-hole to his blond,
sparsely haired base.

Brent's hips started thrusting involuntarily, and the 13-year-old felt his
small nuts contracting.

"Stinny," he gasped, "Gonna cum!"

His friend didn't pull away, but sucked his friend harder and faster, while
stroking his own needful bone in a flurry. Just then, Brent's love nozzle
blossomed with a thin garland of slightly salty boy goo. Another jet
dribbled into Stinson's hungry mouth, before Brent shuddered with dry
pulses. Gently, he pushed Stinson from his overly sensitive, softening
cock, leaning back against the shower tiles to catch his breath.

"So good, Stinny," Brent sighed.

"You sure?" Stinson asked, curiously. "I'm still learning."

"You're a natural," Brent replied. "And I'll give you as much practice as
you want."

The boys giggled. Before Stinson could get up, Brent lowered himself to his
knees in the cascading water fall, so that the boys could kiss in the
drenching downpour. As their tongues met, tapping messages of love in a
universal code, Brent slid his hand up to Stinson's throbbing 5 inches,
first tenderly tracing from his small brown bush to the circumcised tip. He
spent a moment circling the underside of Stinson's helmet with his
thumb. Then, he filled one hand with cock, and the other with Stinson's
still hairless sack, and stroked him firmly, making his friend bounce on
his heels.

Pressing his tongue all the way into Stinson's mouth, Brent sealed his lips
around his friend's, milking love with the same passion he brought to the
boy's aching hardness. Faster and harder Brent pulled, and the shower
filled with muffled sighs and rhythmically splashing water. With gentle
fondling, rubbing his finger across Stinson's taint with the hand squeezing
his friend's nuts, Brent felt his friend's entire body stiffening up, and
he leaned back to pound him furiously.  Gritting his teeth, Stinson groaned
as his cock plumed with a couple of milky white jets splattering all over
the two boy's thighs.

Brent gently milked the last of Stinson's manna from this spent penis, then
helped his friend stumble to his feet. They embraced and kissed, letting
the warm water wash away the traces of their ardor.

"I wish you didn't have to leave next week," Brent whispered into the
Southerner's ear.

Combing a wet curtain of long, drenched blond hair over Brent's ear,
Stinson kissed his lobe, and whispered, "Me too, dude."

=================================================================

"I was thinking, Grandma, Gramps," Stinson said to his grandparents over a
dinner of freshly grilled tuna and salad, "Brent's gonna ace Spanish in
school with a summer of practice. I mean, he's already practically
fluent. And I was also thinking that you could use some help maintaining
the boat. And so, uh..."

"Yes, Stin?" Mrs. Abby encouraged her grandson. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh, I was wondering if I could stay longer? I mean, I could help out with
the chores, and, uh, I dunno..."

Mr. Abby winked at his wife. "So, you want to stay down here all summer?
Work with a Spanish tutor and hang out with old farts when you could be
playing baseball in North Carolina?"

"Uh, yeah, I was thinking maybe that."

"And it's not just because of the O'Malley's boy?" His grandfather asked,
enjoying the boy's reddening face.

"No matter what, we'd love to have you, Stin," his grandfather said,
quickly relieving his grandson's discomfort. "Besides, how can we say no to
puppy dog eyes?"

When Stinson blushed again, his grandmother leaned over to squeeze his
hand. "Brent is a very sweet boy. We'll call your parents after dinner."

Stinson grinned explosively. "Thank you! I'll pitch in and take care of
anything."

"Well, Stin," his grandfather said, "You could start with scraping the
barnacles from the boat hull."

With friendly severity he added, "Then, the one chore you can't get out of
is golfing with me. If I have to spend an afternoon with with a bunch of
mummies, you're coming along."

Later, while he washed the dishes, Stinson overheard snatches of
conversation from his grandfather on the phone with his parents. Words like
"his friend is a nice young man," "you know about first love," and
"Stinson'll be a real help."

His grandfather handed him the phone, and Stinson endured a long
conversation with his mom, who didn't want him to "get hurt" in his first
relationship, and an even longer one with his dad. "Son, you have to apply
yourself to Spanish, if you want to stay." He promised he would run all the
errands help his grandparents with any housework.

That night, he could hardly sleep thinking of the surprise he had for
Brent.

========================================================

"It's just a few miles up the coast," Brent called back, as they biked up
the highway out of town. The road was so narrow, they had to ride single
file, which was fine with Stinson. He got a fine view of Brent's ass when
they rode uphill, standing to pump bike pedals. Wearing only his
newly-gifted Speedo and a t-shirt, the boy's corded leg muscles fused into
steely grapefruits stretching the spandex bun wrapper, teasing Stinson into
a semi-hardening erection.

Ten miles north of La Paz, a series of lagoons were hidden from the road by
wild plant life. Brent led them to a barely visible trail, and the boys
biked to a small cliff. Locking the bikes up, they crept down a steep wash
to a small beach below.

"Sweet!" Stinson exclaimed, surveying the deserted little stretch of coast,
wrapping in a semi-circle around turquoise waters. Dark shapes marked where
the reefs began.

"Told ya," Brent said. "Found this beach last summer. It's my secret spot."

Stinson pulled an arcing nylon beach shade off his pack, unfurled it, and
anchored it into the sand. Meanwhile, Brent pulled out water for both of
them, then his mask, snorkel and fins.

While Brent was bending over, Stinson admired the boy's firm globes, every
contour revealed by skin-tight Lycra. Adjusting his rising boner, he
chuckled.

"You really love those Speedos, huh?"

Without looking up, Brent slapped one of his buttocks, giggled and said,
"What's not to love?"

Stinson sighed. He could love that fine ass for a long, long time. As Brent
got up, Stinson noticed the bump in the front of his friend's swim suit
seemed to be larger.

"I wish you'd warn your's, Stinny," he said. "You're fire in them. I can't
even see your thighs in those things, dude."

Stinson thought about it for a moment, looked around, and untied his board
shorts. Dropping an inch or two, they caught on his boner, and Stinson had
to bend to push his bathing suit off.

"Better?" Stinson asked, while arching an eyebrow. His cock was now almost
fully hard, bouncing with his heartbeat.

"Much!" Brent replied, and Stinson could see the lump in the boy's Speedo
was stretching up and out. Stroking his length with his palm once or twice,
Brent sighed, "These feel so good. But, when in Rome..."

Grabbing the waistband with both hands, Brent quickly peeled off his
Speedo, letting his 3.5 bone bob in the air as freely as Stinson's thicker,
5 inches. The boys, roughly the same height, wrapped their arms around each
other, and their cocks pressed upward toward their bellies, while Brent's
sparse trail of blond pubes mashed into Stinson's small, brown bush.

With lingering kisses and delicate caresses, they could have forgotten the
reason for their trip. But a passing speedboat and water skiers shook them
out of their fervor.

"Let's go reef diving, first," Brent said, smiling. "We can go dick diving
later."

They both giggled, pulling on their masks and carrying their fins to the
water line. When they were thigh deep, they pulled on their flippers and
swam out to the nearest reef. Still spooked by the shark they'd seen a
couple of days earlier, Brent didn't want to go much further out. But there
was plenty to see in the 3-meter depth.

The fish were spectacular in those unspoiled waters, and the boys spent a
good hour gazing at eels, octopuses, pufferfish and angel fish. Stinson
found two mantis shrimp loudly battling, and lost himself in their war,
until he felt fingers delicately encircling his now soft 3
inches. Squeaking into his snorkel, he quickly turned and grabbed Brent's
balls and swelling bone with his entire hand.

Floating easily in the very salty water, the boys slowly stroked one
another, until Brent bobbed above the surface and pulled out his snorkel to
talk.

"Let's go, in dude," he suggested to Stinson, who nodded, grinning around
his snorkel's mouthpiece.

Minutes later, they were toweling off under the shade tent, and pulling out
sandwiches and water.

"You're getting pink, dude," Brent said, noticing Stinson was getting
burned all over.

"You too, Brent," Stinson laughed, pointing at the normally pallid expanse
between the boy's tanned legs and torso, where Brent normally wore
shorts. "We better put on more sunscreen."

"I'll do you first," Brent said, gently pushing his friend to lay face down
on a towel in the shade. Straddling Stinson's firm bottom, Brent spent a
long time massaging sun screen into his friend's slender, muscular
back. Stinson could have fallen asleep, but the sensation of Brent's bone
occasionally sliding up his crack kept him awake and rigid. Brent spent
even more time working cream into Stinson's buttocks, making the boy moan
when he played lightly with the Southerner's sensitive hole.

After working more cream all the way down Stinson's legs, Brent had the boy
roll over, and smiled at the turgid rod bouncing against his pubic mound. A
thin, clear strand of goo stretched from the tip of Stinson's circumcised
head to his waistline. Brent wasted less time rubbing sun screen into
Stinson's neck, torso and arms, before squirting a large wad into his hand
to slather across his friends loins. With both hands, he lathered Stinson's
smooth, full ball sack, and slicked the boy's length slowly and
teasingly. More drool seeped from Stinson's pee hole while the boy moaned
almost agonizingly. Brent masturbated his friend with slow, deliberate
care. Finally, he finished Stinson's legs, and Brent's own bone was moist
with desire, throbbing against his almost barren pubic mound.

The 13-year-olds swapped places, though Brent lay on his back, his dick
wagging enticingly until Stinson slowly sat on the rigid pole. As it
nestled in Stinson's crease, both boys sighed, and the Southerner slicked
layers of sunscreen all over his friend's tan chest and tummy. Sliding down
and kneeling on either side of Brent's knees, it was Stinson's turn to
torture his friend's penis and balls, and he spent long moments massaging
the boy until he was squirming and grunting, and his hips were starting to
rock.

Stinson worked cream deeply into his friend's rock hard thighs, and Brent
heaved from deep-tissue thumb drilling. After finishing Brent's legs and
feet, Stinson rolled his friend over, and worked his thumbs into the boy's
sinewy back. Brent practically melted in Stinson's fingers, drowsily
washing almost into slumber. Stinson slicked a layer around Brent's
buttocks, then worked the boy's thighs and calves.

Brent was on the verge of sleep when his buttocks parted, and he felt hot
breath on his tender anus. He shivered as the tip of Stinson's tongue
brushed his muscular ring. Stinson had never tried this before, but he'd
masturbated to stories of rimming online, and he greedily buried his face
in Brent's sea-salted boy bottom. Sliding his tongue up and down his
friend's crevice, then twirling it around and around the boy's clenching
rosebud, Stinson smiled as Brent's high pitched moans piped out.

"Keep goin', Stin. That's just straight fire!"

The Canadian got up on all fours, and Stinson dove in for more, thirsty for
ass. Reaching under his chin, and between Brent's spread thighs, Stinson
delicately grasped his friend's smooth, tight scrotum, gently squeezing the
boy's small sack. With his other hand, Stinson caressed the small of his
friend's back. Brent's moans mounted, and his hips started thrusting,
pushing his nuts with more force into Stinson's hands, and his ass back
into Stinson's probing tongue.

"Dude," Brent heaved, "Do you want to fuck me in the ass?'

Would he?! Stinson thought. He'd been dreaming of nothing else for the last
20 minutes.

"Yeah, Brent. But, um, I never done it before."

"We'll take our time," Brent replied. "I want your dick in me so bad."

In moments, Brent had his friend working first one, and then another finger
into his tight boy hole. Laying his head and shoulders down on the beach
towel, Brent kept his ass skyward, groaning with the rhythmic fingering
Stinson brought to his rear.

When he was ready, Brent told Stinson to slick up his love gun with a
generous slopping of sunscreen. Nervous, but eager, the Southern boy lined
his diamond hard tumescence up against his friend's loosed tunnel.

"Is it gonna hurt you?" He asked, very concerned. He'd read it could be
horrible.

"Not if you go slow...just.like...uhhh...that's it..."

Over many minutes, Stinson worked in micro-pushes, until his knob breached
the gate, and Brent grunted.

"Ok, just gimme a second," Brent whispered. In truth, Stinson's cock was
the thickest he'd ever attempted. But he was determined. And it took a
while, but eventually Stinson' small bush rested against Brent's firm
bottom.

"This is off the chain, Stinny!" Brent huffed. "You're so big and hard." He
squeezed his bowels around the pleasure pole impaling him.

"Uuuuuhoooh!" Stinson gasped. "Sic! It's so tight!"  He'd never been
gripped with such hot, moist heat, and he had to take a minute or he'd have
come right then.

Very slowly, he pulled back, and Brent's hot meat hole pulled on his super
sensitive cock in a way he wanted to feel forever. But at the same time,
his balls needed release, and so he pushed back in. Brent moaned when
Stinson's knob pressed into his special place.

"Uuuhhooooooh! Right there, Stinson. That's killer!"

Stinson pulled back out slowly again and pressed back down as Brent coached
him. He couldn't help it when his hips started pumping faster, the friction
buffing his tender prick demanding more.

"I can't...Stop it!" Stinson wailed, losing control as his hips thrust into
Brent's bottom six or seven times, and suddenly, his balls clenched and his
stomach turned to steel and everything within him exploded. Groaning with
animal force, he wrapped his arms around Brent's stomach and pumped each of
the four strong eruptions into his friend.

Gasping, heaving, sweating, Stinson's cock pulsed a few more times as he
collapsed on Brent's back.

"I'm so sorry, B!" He almost cried. "I just never felt nothing like that. I
couldn't --`

"No worries, dude," the Canadian chuckled. "I guess you like giving it as
much as I like getting it."

"But you didn't come yet."

"Just stay like that," Brent replied, squeezing Stinson cock with his
bottom, keeping his friend's sensitive boyhood hard, while he got back up
on all fours. Then he pulled Stinson's right hand to his raging, dripping
hardness, and the boy's left hand to his smooth scrotum.

With his torso still lying on Brent's back, Stinson kissed his friend's
neck and shoulders through the boy's long blond hair. At the same time, he
used a thumb and forefinger to gently work Brent's wet foreskin back and
forth over the Canadian's enraged helmet, while rolling the boy's small
balls in this other fingers. He felt a trickle of his own semen streaming
down from Brent's boy hole.

Brent's slightly sore and very full ass pressed back with the gentle rhythm
Stinson brought to his knob. Gradually, Stinson started stroking Brent's
stalk as well, while his now painfully re-engorged cock pillaged Brent's
butthole faster. Both boy's were moaning loudly with every slap of flesh on
flesh.

"Fuck me hard, Stinny!" Brent grunted through gritting teeth.

Stinson could only gasp as he slam-slam-slamed harder into his friend's
bottom. His earlier ejaculate was squelched out of Brent''s anus freely,
onto the towel, and streaming down the inside of the boy's thighs. It made
for a great lube as Stinson pounded the his friend's bottom with mounting
fury.

"Yes! Yes! Shit fuck YES!" Brent cried. His small, firm bag constricted
into his base, as white fire erupted from his ass and his nuts and his
cock. Sweating in the shaded heat, Stinson milked three watery jets of
Vancouver Boy Soup, while Brent's anus gripped him like a vice. In turn,
Stinson groaned long and hard, as his dick ejected a couple of thinner
streams from his aching balls.

Slowly, the sweat-drenched boys stopped rocking, and Stinson felt Brent
soften in his light grasp. His own cock retreated from Brent's love hole,
making an audible slurping pop that made both boys quietly giggle.

Laying down on their sides face to face, the 13-year-olds smiled at each
other in exhausted bliss. Tenderly kissing for a moment, they lay wordless
for a few moments, running their fingers through each other's hair.

"That was...in-fucking-sane," Stinson didn't have the words.

"We can do it every day you're here, if you want," Brent said, hopefully.

"About that," Stinson began, and Brent looked concerned. Was his friend
leaving Mexico early?

"My parents said I could stay the rest of the summer and work with a
Spanish tutor, like you."

"Really?!" Brent couldn't believe it. Though he could scarcely admit it to
himself, he was falling hard for Stinson. And though he was afraid to voice
it, Stinson felt the same for Brent.

"Yeah, dude. I have to help my grandparents with chores. And I really do
have to practice my Spanish."

"I'll help you practice your Spanish," Brent replied. "Besame hermoso."

Stinson leaned in for another gentle kiss. Then Brent whispered, "And we
can practice your French, too."

They kissed more passionately, letting their tongues tangle, and slowly
their adolescent poles hardened again.

Pulling away, Brent looked Stinson deeply in the eyes and grinned. "And we
have all summer to work on your Greek."

================================================================= To be
continued...

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