Date: Tue, 16 Jun 2020 02:35:14 -0700 From: William RS Subject: Dennis The following is a true story related to me by Michael, an avid NIFTY reader from New York. He wrote this and I edited the writing. It is about 15-year-old Michael's kinky play with one, then two other boys; both a couple years younger. Before reading, please consider a generous donation to NIFTY. Please write to me with comments and I will forward them to Michael. DENNIS My sunny days in summer were often spent at the beach. Not-so-nice days were perfect for a visit to the local branch of the county library. That was where I met Dennis. This was the summer of 1969. I'm Mike and I was 15 and had recently completed 9th grade at the junior high school. I would have never met Dennis had I not noticed the books he had laid out on the table in front of him. These were the same books I had used for a report on the Iroquois Confederacy that I presented to my 7th grade class. Seeing those books, I felt I had to introduce myself. "Hi, sorry to bother you, but I know those books. Are you interested in the Iroquois?" Dennis looked up at me. "Yeah. I want to earn a few merit badges in Scouts this summer and this Indian stuff is part of that." After we introduced ourselves, I sat down and we talked for a while. I learned that he was 13 and had just finished 7th grade at the same Catholic school I had graduated from a year ago. Dennis asked if we could get together again and invited me to his house. I said I'd like that, so we made plans that I would come to his place in a couple days. I thought Dennis was kind of cute, so I had more than Indians on my mind when I agreed to visit. It took me about 10 minutes to bike to Dennis's house. When I got there, he led me to the garage, which was not attached to the house. Unlike my family's garage, Dennis's had an upstairs you got to by climbing some steep stairs. The room was more like an attic, with a pitched roof and exposed rafters. It was basically a storage area but Dennis had carved out his own play area. "I come here a lot 'cause it's quieter than the house and has lots more privacy," he said. We sat cross-legged on the floor as we talked about the books. I told Dennis about the report I did for school. As we chatted, I noticed more about him. Both of us were wearing clothes typical of the time: t-shirts and cut-offs, and sneakers with no socks. If you don't know, cut-offs are shorts you made yourself by cutting the legs off a pair of old jeans. I was short and skinny for my age, just 5'2" and 95 lbs. Dennis was a tad taller, maybe about 5'3" and he was solidly built, with bigger arms and legs. I figured he could outweigh me by 15-20 lbs. I began to get that buzz I feel when I'm close to someone who makes me feel submissive. I was definitely attracted to Dennis. Before I left, we had lemonade and cookies in his kitchen and I said I'd come back later that week. The next time I went to see Dennis, he had a surprise waiting. "Remember how the books said some of the Iroquois decorated their bodies? Wanna do that today?" he asked. "Yeah, sure, do you have stuff we can use?" I responded. "Oh, yeah. It's stuff I learned to make in Scouts. We can't use real paint 'cause it's too hard to get off, and we can't use chalk 'cause it doesn't really work on skin. But you can make your own paint that washes off right away. It's made of cornstarch and water and food coloring and other stuff." "Food coloring? Like for Easter eggs?" I asked. "Yeah, exactly. It won't hurt you. I got four colors, red, blue, yellow, and green. Wish I had some black, though." "Sounds neat." "Oh, and I don't have any little brushes. We only got like big brushes for painting the house. But I figure we can use our fingers. Probably do a better job than brushes." "Yeah, I think you're right. Fingers sound good for that," I agreed. We had one stumbling block in getting started. The books did say that the Mohawks and others had tattoos and painted their bodies, but there weren't any illustrations of what the body art looked like. "I guess we'll just have to use our imagination," I said. "We just have to think like a Mohawk warrior." "Ha-ha, yeah, that should be easy, huh." "Should we paint ourselves or do we paint each other? Seems like it'd be easier to paint each other, don't you think?" "Yeah, Dennis. We can see what we're doin' more if we do each other and, like you said, I mean, they musta painted each other, right?" "Yeah, I think they musta. Hey, Mike, can I go first? I mean can I paint you first? I got some ideas." "Um, okay, sure." "Let's take our shirts off." "Okay. How do you wanna do this?" "I think we should start like on our arms, kinda test how the paint looks and if it sticks." "Sure, that sounds good." "Um, it might be messy. Maybe we better take our shorts off, too." "Oh, okay. I guess that's a good idea." We both stood up and unbuttoned our shorts. Mine dropped straight to the floor off my skinny hips, revealing my tight white Fruit of the Loom briefs. Dennis had to push his shorts past his ass and thick thighs before they would drop to the floor. He gave me a couple reasons to gawk at him. First, he was wearing Jockey brand briefs. I had never actually seen a pair of Jockeys before. I knew they cost a lot more than my FTLs. I was fascinated by the inverted Y-shaped pouch, but not as much as I was impressed by the bulge. Dennis was clearly a well-developed boy, and he was kick-starting my buzzy feeling. I sat down cross-legged. Dennis sat facing me from the side, with his small Tupperware bowls full of homemade paint arranged around him. He took my right arm in one hand and began to paint with the forefinger of his other hand. "I'm gonna paint some rings on your upper arm to start with. Seems like a design the Indians would use for sure," Dennis said. "Okay. It does seem like they'd paint rings on their bodies." I was feeling really tingly as Dennis held my arm at the elbow and moved his finger around my puny bicep. "Jeez, Mike, don't they feed you at home?" "I probably eat more than you. I just don't put on any weight. My mom even makes me drink Nutrament to fatten me up, but it doesn't make any difference." "Well, we'll get you painted up and maybe you'll look a little more like a fearsome Mohawk warrior instead of a little Huron girl." Dennis painted one green band around my upper arm and then put another one below it. He left a gap of several inches between the second green band and the next band, which was red. When he finished, I had two green bands and two red bands. Dennis dipped his finger in the container of blue paint and made a large dot in the space between the green and red bands. He added a yellow dot on either side of the blue one and then put more blue dots after the yellow ones. "Perfect. Now do me," Dennis commanded. I scooted into position and took hold of Dennis's beefy bicep. I got tingles again feeling his muscle. I duplicated the green and red bands and the blue and yellow dots like we were part of the same tribe. When I was done, Dennis flexed his bicep, making the bands and dots expand and contract. It looked a lot cooler than it sounds. "We can do our other arm later. I wanna do your chest now," Dennis said. "I really want to put some kind of bird on our chests, like an eagle or falcon, but that might be too hard. Can't be a raven, anyway, 'cause we need black paint for that." "It doesn't have to be perfect. We're just experimenting," I answered. "Yeah, besides, it'd be hard to paint a big fierce bird on your puny chest. Maybe a pigeon or a baby robin!" teased my new friend. "Jeez, Dennis, it's not like you're Charles Atlas or somethin'," I protested. "Hey, no question who the 98-pound weakling is here, Mikey. Maybe you're lying about being 15, huh? Sure, you're not 13 like me or maybe even younger?" "Alright, lay off. So, you're bigger than me. Want a medal or something?" "Why not? I already got the chest to pin it on!" It turned out that decorating my chest was too difficult to do with me sitting up, so Dennis had me lay on my back. He knelt next to me and contemplated the blank canvas of my upper body. He dipped his finger in some red and rubbed a dot onto my right nipple. I flinched as my nipple got hard. "Sensitive nipples, huh?" said Dennis. "Let's see if the other one is, too." He pinched my left nipple and I gasped and tried to roll away from him. "Titty twister!" cried Dennis. I tried to curl into a ball, but Dennis was too strong and ended up straddling my stomach, my arms pinned by his knees. What he didn't see was the bulge in my FTLs as my penis reacted to the stimulation of my nips. "Stop it, Dennis. Get off me!" "Take it easy, Mikey. I gotta finish painting your nips." "Just stop." "C'mon, you can't tell me this hurts." "Not exactly." And it didn't hurt, but it gave me a boner. Seeing my new friend's Jockey pouch mound resting on my bare stomach only made things worse. "Let's see what else we can do with your chest, Mikey." As Dennis began to move his bulk off me, he spied my little bulge. "You got a boner! Hahahahahha!" "So what! I couldn't help it." "Let's see it," asked a now curious Dennis. "What? No!" Dennis grabbed at my briefs just as I tried to get up. We ended up with me in a ball with him on top of me. "C'mon, Mikey, don't be shy. I get 'em all the time, too. Let's see what you got." My resistance was, as the Star Trek aliens, The Borg, would later say, 'futile.' Dennis finally tugged my FTLs all the way off. I could either lay there or get up. So, I got up and exposed myself. What Dennis saw was a boy with delayed puberty even though I was a soon-to-be high school sophomore. Besides being short for my age and ribcage-showing skinny, I had a thin 4-inch penis that stood straight up over a wispy brown bush and a small ball sack that was tight against my body. "Cripes, Mikey, I knew you were a little guy, but I didn't think you'd be this little." "I'm a late bloomer. And anyways, I'm still growing." "Ha, you can grow all you want, but I doubt you'll ever catch me." "Yeah? Let's see what you got then." "Remember, you asked for it." Dennis stepped out of his briefs and stepped close to me. His soft penis was longer and thicker than my hard dick. His balls were big and dangling. My boner couldn't get any harder, but a drop of precum appeared at the tip. I hadn't seen boys naked until this past year. I'd spent eight years at a Catholic grammar school with no gym classes. It wasn't until I enrolled in the public junior high that I had gym class and went out for sports. By now, I'd seen at least a hundred naked boys in locker rooms and showers. Dennis certainly was one of the biggest boys I'd seen. "Wow." "Yeah, it's a nice one, huh." "Um, are you like, um, does it get bigger?" "Haha, yeah, it gets bigger. Wanna see?" "Yes," I pleaded. Dennis fondled his big balls and I watched his cock thicken and lengthen. "Jeez, Dennis, you're huge!" "It is kinda big, I think." "Um, did you ever measure it?" "Sure. It's 6 inches. Wanna touch it?" "Um, gee, are you sure?" "C'mon, Mikey. I know you want to." "Okay." I took his cock in my small hand. I don't know how I didn't cum right on the spot. His hard penis felt so big and so powerful. I felt like a little boy next to him. More than that, I felt docile, like I'd do anything he wanted. I felt completely submissive. "You beat off, right?" Dennis asked. "Yeah, do you?" "Sure, as much as I can. You?" "Me, too." In fact, I was sure no kid masturbated as much as I did, even though my balls were usually empty after the second round of the day. "You wanna beat off now?" Dennis continued. "Okay." "You wanna do me?" "You mean beat you off?" "Yeah." "Okay." We stood close to each other. I began to stroke him, and he took my dick in his hand. Dennis soon started using only three fingers to masturbate my thin shaft. Maybe 30 seconds went by before I exploded, two good spurts and then the rest oozing out. "Sorry," I said, red-faced. "That's okay, Mikey. Guess I got you too excited, huh." Now that my orgasm was past, I focused on Dennis's big cock. I was exploring more than masturbating, but he didn't seem to mind. His balls felt so heavy in my palm. I couldn't get over how much more there was to Dennis's engorged organ when my fingers encircled it. It was a weird feeling to masturbate someone else's penis. I couldn't tell how it felt for him, but he seemed to be into it. He did prompt me to go faster or slower or to hold him a certain way. At the end, we were facing each other. I was leaning into him as I used both hands to jack him off, his cock pointed at my belly. His orgasm was strong, maybe nine or ten jets of sperm splashing on my bare stomach and onto my little dick. I felt the throbbing of his cock, the rush of semen through the urethra, and then the wetness on my skin. I looked down at myself. "What a mess." I almost giggled. Dennis wiped some of his cum off my body with his finger. "Here's your reward, Mikey." He held his finger to my lips. I licked his semen off his finger. He wiped off more. This time I sucked it off his finger. "There's more," he said, holding out his penis. He gently pushed me onto my knees. I licked the tip of his cock, and then under the shaft. I took his cockhead into my mouth and sucked out the last of his load. "Good boy, Mikey." There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Dennis and me that we'd done enough for one day. We cleaned ourselves of paint and dressed, and I rode my bike home. I spent the rest of the day replaying in my mind what had happened. In my bed that night, my boner wouldn't go away, even after repeated attention and even though my balls were sore from not having any more juice to pump out. You might think two boys who just shared a masturbatory experience would want to get together again ASAP. But a couple days went by before I heard from Dennis again. He called me one night to talk about the Iroquois. It was then that he brought up torture for the first time. Captives got tied up, of course, and they were beaten with sticks and clubs, burned with torches and with brands. They cut off fingers or slit them open lengthwise. Some captives were forced to run a gantlet during which they were clubbed. Another torture was staking the captives naked onto the ground and hot coals would be tossed onto their bodies. Sometimes, they were humiliated by being stripped naked and made to sing and dance. Dennis and I both found this to be weird but also exciting and, of course, no-one's punishment was as simple as singing a song; there was always some type of torture afterwards. It was Dennis who was first to wonder aloud about private parts. "I wonder if the Iroquois ever did anything to a guy's dick and balls?" Dennis asked. "Oh, they must have," I eagerly responded. "Yeah, but I haven't seen anything like that in these books. Did you ever hear anything about it?" "No, but I think it's the kind of thing they left out on purpose, you know? I mean, it's too gruesome even for adults to talk about." "I think you're right, Mikey. There's no way a Mohawk would get his enemy naked and not do stuff to his junk, know what I mean?" "God, no. If they were willing to mutilate a guy's hands, there's no way they'd pass up on the chance to hurt his cock and balls." "Jeez, imagine some poor Huron warrior all stripped naked and staked out spread eagle on the ground, just knowing he's gonna get his dick and balls tortured." "Gives me the chills, Dennis." It also gave me a solid erection. In my mind, it's no fun to get a man naked and torture him if the torture didn't include his genitals. Dennis wanted me to come over the next day. "Take all your clothes off." That was the first thing Dennis said to me after I climbed the stairs to his attic hideaway. "What?" "Haha, don't worry. I got something special for us to wear. But, seriously, take off your clothes. Get all the way naked." I got that buzzy submissive feeling and I stripped down like Dennis wanted. Dennis had something in his hands as he approached me. "This is a breechcloth. It's what the Iroquois men and boys wore. They also wore leggings with the breechcloth but we don't need those." A breechcloth is pretty basic but hard to explain. You can find a photo or illustration online. Dennis's homemade breechcloths were old bath towels that he trimmed down, held in place by a length of clothesline. Dennis helped me put the breechcloth on. It felt weird wearing it. I got a better idea of what I must look like when I saw Dennis in his breechcloth. The towel hung down to mid-thigh in front and back, but it wasn't wide enough to cover much more than another inch on either side of his groin. The whole side of our flanks were exposed, along with some butt cheek. I thought the breechcloth made Dennis's beefy body look extra hot. "Mike, you sounded pretty excited last night when we were talking about the Iroquois torturing people." "Kinda, I guess. I mean, it was mean of them to actually treat their captives that way, but I think it's really interesting." "That's good, 'cause here's what we're gonna do today. You're gonna be a Huron warrior, okay, and I'm gonna play a Mohawk brave. We're gonna wrestle each other like it's a real fight and the winner gets to torture the loser!" "Really?"' "Yep!" "Um, okay." "Great!" There was plenty of room in the attic for a couple young teens to grapple. As it turned out, we didn't need much space--or time. We faced off; he lunged and I scooted sideways, but he caught me in a bear hug and took me to the ground. I was pinned in less than a minute. "Alright, you Huron weakling, you're my captive now," Dennis exclaimed in triumph. Dennis bound my hands behind me with some clothesline. I was on my knees watching as he set things up. I hadn't noticed before that there were hooks set into the bottom of the attic rafters. Using a stepladder, Dennis tied a length of clothesline to each of a pair of hooks. Dennis pulled me up and positioned me under the hooks. He untied my hands and had me extend my arms over my head. He tied each wrist to the clothesline dangling from one of the hooks. I was able to stand flat-footed, but I couldn't move very far in any direction. "Now, you Huron weasel, you will face the wrath of the Mohawk for trespassing on our hunting grounds." There was an old beat-up desk in the corner. Dennis pulled something out of a drawer. It was one of those mini-baseball bats, an 18-inch wooden souvenir. My eyes got wide even though I was certain that Dennis wouldn't really hit me with it. "Prepare for pain, Huron dog." Dennis tapped my stomach several times with his bat. We both knew that the Iroquois respected captives who endured torture stoically, so while I was prepared to play along, I kept silent. "Come on, Huron pig, cry out." Dennis moved behind me and began swatting my breechcloth-covered butt. These blows were no taps, but they didn't hurt, either. "Had enough, Huron woman?" "No," I challenged, "Do your worst. I am a Huron warrior; I can take it." I thought I heard Dennis choke back a laugh. "You will regret those words, Huron snake." Still behind me, Dennis started tickling both of my underarms. I am extremely ticklish. I started twisting against my bonds. "Aaaaah, no, what are you doing, Dennis? The Mohawks didn't tickle people to death!" "This Mohawk does." Dennis moved up and down my sides, driving me nuts. I was writhing wildly, unable to control my laughter. I begged Dennis to stop. "What weaklings you Hurons are. You can't take a little tickle." As I struggled, I felt my breechcloth sliding down. The knot in the clothesline belt must have loosened. Suddenly, I was naked, tied up and helpless, at the mercy of a faux Mohawk brave. Now Dennis was in front of me. "What is this? Have the Huron men grown so cowardly that they send little boys to do their dirty work?" Dennis flicked my 2-inch stub. "How old are you, boy? Surely you cannot have seen even 12 summers!" He flicked the head of my little penis again and again. "Stop, please," I moaned. "Stop crying, little Huron weakling. Take your punishment like a man." Dennis squeezed my tight ball sack, not hard, but hard enough. I cried out, but I also got hard. Dennis laughed as my thin 4-inch cock stuck out at him. "I don't think there will be many Huron children born when the men have peepees and tiny balls." He gave my balls a harder squeeze that made me catch my breath. "Mohawks are real men, little Huron boy. Look!" Dennis pushed his breechcloth down, exposing his big soft cock and hangers. "This is what a real warrior carries into battle." Dennis stepped closer and slapped his cock against mine. "How puny you are, little Huron." His cock got harder and harder as he slapped it against my 'little Huron peepee.' In my excitement, my balls had retreated into my groin, so Dennis went to the desk again for one of those thin shoestrings for dress shoes. He coaxed my reluctant balls from their hiding and tied the shoestring around my now full ball sack and then began to hit my balls with his hard cock. That stung enough to make to moan and twist against my bonds. But it also makes me leak a few drops of pre-cum. Dennis moved behind me. He smacked my bare ass. Now he was close against me and whispered in my ear. "Now, little Huron boy, you have a choice. You can either die or you can become my bitch." He slapped my ass again. "What" slap "do" slap "you" slap "choose?" slap slap slap. "Aaahhhhh, owwww. Bitch! I'll be your bitch!" "Good boy." My arms were freed from the hooks and I was pushed onto my knees. I felt exhausted. Dennis stood before me; his big Mohawk cock looked so powerful. "Kiss it. Kiss my cock, little Huron boy." I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock, once, twice, Then I took it into my mouth. My hands were free, so I felt Dennis's strong flanks as I sucked his thick meat. His cock was leaking good now. I shoved my nose into his big balls and licked them. I began stroking his shaft as I teased his pee slit and ran my lips over his cockhead. "Oh, yes, Mikey, you good little Huron boy." I alternated between sucking him and stroking him. Then Dennis grabbed my head and started fucking my mouth. I felt his load fill my mouth with jet after jet of his Mohawk cream. I swallowed it all and then licked his cock clean. Dennis's orgasm signaled the end of the roleplay. He pulled me up. I felt wobbly and Dennis took me in his arms and carried me to the old desk. As I rested, he stroked my bushy hair. "Good boy, Mikey. You're a good little boy." That night, I fell asleep clutching my peepee and thinking of my Mohawk brave. My visits to Dennis continued through July and into August, one or two a week, were much the same. I would climb the stairs into the garage attic and we both would strip down and put on our breechcloths. The Mohawk brave and the Huron warrior wrestled for the chance to enslave the other. Dennis always won and never showed an inclination to be on the receiving end of Iroquois torture. Soon after our first torture sessions, Dennis decided he would always strip me before the torture. So, I always underwent the bondage and torture in the nude. I would be clubbed and spanked, lightly. My nipples would be tweaked. My balls would be tied up and then tortured along with my cock. I would be tickled. The finale would always be me on my knees giving the Mohawk brave his blowjob. The night before a mid-August visit, Dennis called me at home. The call was short. "Listen, little Huron boy, I want you to shave your pubes before you come tomorrow. Make sure your little dick and balls are shaved smooth." I did as Dennis commanded. The next day, I entered the attic to find that Dennis was not alone. Another boy was there, but I was not introduced to him. I found out later that, like Dennis, Andy was 13. He had shaggy, longish hair, as we all did. He was a little shorter than Dennis and me, and he was very thin like me. I wondered if he had a little dick. Dennis and Andy were wearing breechcloths. They also were painted up. They had decorations on their arms and chests and even their foreheads, noses, and cheeks. I was more than a little envious of Andy. "Take off your clothes, little Huron boy," were Dennis's first words. I stripped in front of them. Dennis must have been pleased to see that my groin was totally hairless because he said, "Good boy." "Come here. Kneel down." I knelt in front of Dennis. "Beg for my cock, little boy." This was new, and humiliating, and I complied. "Please, mighty Mohawk, please let me suck your cock." Dennis untied the knot in his breechcloth belt and took out his semi-hard cock. He slapped his cock against my face several times. "Suck it, little boy." I was totally erect now as I took the head of his cock in my mouth and fondled his balls. I knew by now how to make Dennis cum. I could have brought him off in just a couple minutes, but because someone else was watching today, I made Dennis wait for his orgasm. But it wasn't long before I wanted Dennis's semen as much as he wanted to cum. But Dennis had one more humiliation prepared. Just as he began to spurt into my mouth, he jerked his cock out and spent the rest of his load onto my face. I wondered what Andy was thinking and whether he was rock hard in his breechcloth. Andy helped Dennis bind my wrists with clothesline and then tie off the clothesline to the rafter hooks. Now I was in my familiar position, arms overhead, flat-footed, and naked and exposed and helpless. Dennis proceeded with the normal torture routine, including tickling. I was more humiliated than usual with Andy watching, and my cock was as hard as it could get. Now I wondered what today's finale would be. I'd already sucked Dennis's cock, but being a normal teenage boy, Dennis would have no trouble producing another big load for my mouth. I was untied from the rafters, but instead of being forced to kneel, I was steered toward the old desk and pushed to the floor, onto my back. Dennis and Andy tied my arms to the legs of the desk. Each of my ankles was then bound by clothesline. The boys spread my legs wide. Dennis pounded a big nail partway into the floor and then tied one of my legs to the nail. He then pounded another nail near my other leg and tied that leg to the nail. I was now more or less spread-eagled naked on the floor. I wouldn't say I was afraid, exactly. Thinking for itself, my cock was rock hard. Dennis sat on the desk near some objects I hadn't noticed before. There was a tray of lit candles on the desk, red and white candles. They looked like the small votive candles at my church. Parishioners would put a dime in an offering box and light a candle in memory of a loved one. Whether someone now intended a sacrilegious use of these candles was foremost in my mind. Andy didn't say anything as he stood over me and removed his breechcloth. His cock was fully erect, satisfying my curiosity. Andy's dick was 5 inches cut and thicker than mine. His cock couldn't make me any harder than I already was. He took a candle from the desk. He knelt next to me and held the candle over one of my nipples. He tilted the candle and a splash of hot wax hit me. My body jerked from the momentary pain; my cock jerked from the intensity of the torture. Andy hadn't quite hit the mark, so he held the next candle closer above the nipple and hit a bullseye. As Andy returned each candle to the tray, Dennis re-lit them with a cigarette lighter. My second nipple was the next target and Andy coated it completely with white wax. The next two candles left a waxy trail down the center of my chest and stomach. Andy filled my "innie" navel with the sixth candle. Andy was approaching really dangerous territory now. Would he really sprinkle hot candle wax onto my privates? Now I was honestly afraid, but I couldn't protest. I was just a little Huron boy. My cock was still totally hard. Andy stood over my crotch for a moment. He bent down and retied the shoelace that was keeping my balls from retreating into my body. My cock was pinned against my groin, pointing up to my navel. My balls were totally exposed. Andy knelt against my hip and held the candle inches away from my little dick. He tilted the candle and directed all the wax onto my cockhead. I cried out, but my cock stayed hard. Another candle dripped its hot liquid down my 4-inch shaft. I knew my little balls were next and I tensed up. Dennis was standing over me now, stroking his cock. Andy knelt between my spread thighs. Leaning forward, he tilted a candle over my ball sack. I squirmed on the floor. Another tipped candle had me writhing. I felt Dennis's cum land on me as he lost control. A couple more candles and Andy was finished with my balls. I was untied and made to kneel in front of Andy. All Andy said was, "Suck me." While I took his length into my mouth, I felt his smooth thighs and flanks. I jerked my dick as I felt all of Andy's 5 inches fill my mouth until the head poked the back of my throat. I shot my little load and then finished off Andy. It felt like five or six spurts hit my tongue and I swallowed it all and then cleaned his cock. I dressed and left. Dennis and Andy were still there. The next time I went to the attic, only Andy was there. "Take off your clothes," he said. I didn't ask where Dennis was. I just did what I was told. Andy was fully dressed in t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. "Kneel down," Andy said. "Take it out," he continued. I unzipped his shorts and reached into his briefs and fished out his soft cock. "Suck me." I worked on him for a few minutes, getting his penis totally erect. "Stop!" He steered me to the desk and told me to bend over and lay my torso on the desktop. I felt Andy step behind me. He draped himself over me. His mouth was against my ear. "Tell me the truth," Andy asked, "Have you ever played with your hole?" I didn't have to ask what he meant. "Yes." "What do you do?" "I put my finger in there." "You finger-fucked yourself?" "Yes." "Ever use more than one finger?" "Yes." "How many?" "Two. I did three once or twice." "Ever put anything else in there?" "Yes." "What?" "A handle, you know, from a broom." "Anything else?" "A candle. A skinny one." "Anything else?" "No." "Stay put," Andy commanded. I couldn't see him. I wasn't tied down, but I kept my head still. He had moved away from me. Next, I felt his hand on my back. "Spread your legs. Wider." One of his hands was pushing against my ass cheek. I felt what must have been a finger probe my hole. There was something on it, like Vaseline. I gripped the desk as his finger penetrated my hole. Neither of us said anything as he finger-fucked me. My cock was hard underneath me. I felt more pressure as Andy inserted two fingers in my ass. I still felt tense but my hole was relaxing. Andy put three fingers in, but not as far. That made me gasp and tighten my grip on the desk. It felt like air was rushing into my hole when Andy removed his fingers. The next thing I felt was Andy's hardness between my cheeks. He had undressed and now laid his body over mine. He lined up his cockhead with my hole and pushed it inside me. I was tense and tight, but he forced his Vaseline-slathered cock inside. I gasped, but didn't cry out. I began to moan lightly as he fucked me slow. I took my cock in my hand and masturbated, feeling a younger boy with a bigger penis fucking me. Andy started to fuck harder, not roughly but insistently. I could tell from his breathing that he was nearing orgasm. He stood up behind me, grabbed my hips and gave me his full measure. I didn't feel him come inside me, but his moans and his grip on my hips triggered my own orgasm. When he was done, he laid back on top of me, saying nothing, his breath against my neck. Then he straightened up. "Get dressed," he said. We both dressed. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I'm sure my face was flushed. I wanted to tell him he was my first. I wanted to thank him. But I was too self-conscious to open my mouth. I was sure he must have done this before. With Dennis? But, I never found out. And, I never saw Andy again. Summer was almost over. I visited Dennis one more time before school started. We did the same torture routine, and it was still very hot for me. I didn't ask about Andy. I didn't know it would be about 2 1/2 years before I would have sex again with anybody. END Michael has more to tell...