Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2023 16:33:35 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Justin's Journal | Part 2 An old friend's secret diaries open a window onto middle school romance. This story features consensual sex between tween boys. If this work of utter fiction violates your local laws or your moral code, close the tab. If you enjoy this story, or any of the works here on Nifty, please chip in to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ====================== Do you remember much from 6th grade? Can you recall how you spent your days? Maybe there's a friend or two that linger in your memory. But what did you do together? Until recently, I'd forgotten most of my life at that age. My best best friend from 1st grade to nearly college was Justin Andrews, one of the smartest and most empathetic guys I've ever known. Justin documented his days meticulously in journals, until his death in Kandahar, a few years ago. Through my friend's written words, I've been not only peering into Justin's thoughts and fears, but also reliving forgotten fragments of my own life. Justin and I were inseparable. At the time, I thought there were no secrets between us. However, his journals from that time show otherwise, starting with the fact he'd already clocked his own sexual orientation, as well as his relationship to me. Yet, with a dearth of information about sexual mechanics available to Idaho kids in the `80s, Justin and I were extremely naive, though very eager thrill seekers for adventure. And we explored every chance we could, in Justin's forest fort, in the gym, or on sleepovers. During our 6th grade Autumn, most of our crew was either playing sports on the weekends, or hunting with their dads (or both), including Justin. He would still come over for sleepovers on Saturday nights, but had to be home in time for church, the next day. At that age, I only slept in pajamas when it was cold, or when we visited relatives. So, the PJs his mom packed went unused on every overnight at my place. Justin was practically giddy watching TV until the wee hours, just hanging in his undies with me (which would be around our knees, seconds after we got in bed). It was light years away from the dictatorship at his family home. -------- October 10, 1987 Another Saturday killing shit. As usual had to get up when it was still dark. Dad nailed a 6-by-6 elk today. With the white-tail I got last weekend we're half-way to filling the freezer for the year. If I make my limit next weekend (please God), I can start sleeping in and watching cartoons at least until Little League after lunch. Speaking of which we lost to the Warthogs, 5-2. It don't matter if I pray for wins we're not going to the post-season. Jesus doesn't care who wins ball games. I wish my parents had a clue. Tommy's coming over for the night in an hour. It's so embarrassing we have to go to bed at 9 and he has to say grace and bed time prayers with my family, and they check his nails to see if they're clean after we brush our teeth. He has to wear pajamas and sleep on the floor. When we do it we have to be super quiet and then he has to go back to his sleeping bag. Then he has to go to church with us in the morning. Tommy never says it but I think he hates church. It's so much better at his place. We can stay up late watching Monster Vision and I sleep in his bed hugging him and when his dad wakes us up I'm still hugging him and his dad thinks its "cute." -------- True, I didn't much care for church. I was raised as an occasional Presbyterian, with those occasions usually being Christmas, Easter and funerals. Justin's family were Methodist, which is sort of like being a Baptist who can wash down nachos with a couple of beers. There's room for a sense of humor but it's tight. Justin's folks were on the stricter side of that faith, and had nothing but unvarnished scorn for all sorts of "sins" - especially homosexuality. No doubt that's the reason he mulls over the nature of sin in so many journal entries. -------- November 1, 1987 It was way cold trick or treating last night but my costume ruled. As usual my parents vetoed any ghost or monster cause they are occultist. But that's OK I was Leonardo from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Hardly anyone knows that comic. But everyone liked my cardboard shell cause it was obviously a turtle's and I had two katanas (thanks Dad for helping me). Besides the shell and shoes, all I had on was green body tights and face paint. Billy and Tommy kept busting' on me about "visible panty line" like the TV ads, and snapping my underwear. Like Billy had anything to say after I yanked off his Animal House toga and he didn't have nothing on but his Underoos and he got super pissed. It was so funny cause Melissa and Nellie saw it all! (It gave me a boner). Me, Billy and Zane stayed over at Tommy's and we did things with Nightmare on Elm Street on. Tommy humped me a couple of times. I really wanted to kiss him. I always want to kiss him, and feel him all over. Is it a sin to want to kiss your best friend? It can't be. I love him. Isn't that what Jesus told people to do? -------- Holy shit, but that is a short and revealing passage about an epic sleepover. Because Halloween fell on a Saturday night that year, some friends stayed the night, after we each bagged half our body weight in candy. With the "Satanic Panic" of mythical child abductions, my dad and Zane's patiently did the rounds with us (I'm pretty sure the thermos of coffee they brought was the Irish variety). I still have a photo of the four of us before we headed out for the night. I was dressed like The Fonz from "Happy Days," with my long hair greased up in a giant, 50's style ducktail. Zane's dad helped him dye some thrift store clothes purple, orange and green so he could be the Joker from Tim Burton's "Batman." Like Justin noted, Billy just wore a sheet, like John Belushi in "Animal House," and even carried a cheap, smashed up guitar. I don't know where Justin's mom found that dance unitard, but it covered him from shoulders to toe in a layer of fabric so tight it was like a second skin. If not for his underwear, he would have been pretty close to naked in the night. It was too tempting to snap his leg elastics, and pinch his cute little bottom. I even surreptitiously goosed him a couple of times. His shiny green buns were like delicious, miniature honeydew melons, ready for the squeezing. But my dad told us to cut out the teasing. Still, Justin got his partial revenge when we met up with some girls from school, and he ripped off Billy's bedsheet costume and ran down the street. Billy squealed and yelled at the girls not to look, then took off after Justin in his superhero undies. If Billy hadn't been so damned shy about being half-dressed in public, it wouldn't have been half as funny, so we were all braying with laughter. Also, it didn't really help Billy's pride that he was still wearing Spiderman undies. Fortunately, the girls didn't seem to notice or care. Anyway, when we got home, my mom had unfolded the convertible sofa in the den, and set it up with sheets, pillows and a comforter. There were extra blankets if anyone wanted to sleep on the floor, but that was wasted on us. 4 skinny boys easily fit on the mattress, and all but Justin stripped to our underwear. I guess Justin loved that neck-to-feet unitard, and that was fine with me. We traded and ate enough candy to kill a horse, and we stayed up watching TV. All I remember from the movie was Justin jumping against me with exaggerated fear from a lot of scenes. I was way more interested in Justin's bulging tights with its satiny sex bump. We were lying next to one another on top of the comforter, and I slid my hand down his skinny tummy, over the satiny rise. It was so warm, and at first, soft to the touch. But not for long. While pretending to watch the movie, I slowly rubbed up and down that magical hillock with the flat of my hand. Through the corner of my eye, I could see him smirking. Hardness stabbed up into my hand, and I readjusted it through his tights, so his boner lay pointing toward his tummy. Justin sighed, and reached over to rub the rigid tool snaking up the front of my stretchy white briefs. Encircling his slippery, satiny prong with a thumb and a couple of fingers, I stroked Justin more firmly with an awkward upside down grip. About that time, the other two boys were whispering and giggling. Zane was was a very cute brunette boy, with an unfortunate mullet reaching his olive toned shoulders. Crouching on his knees between Billy's spread legs, Zane gazed at the diminutive rigid rod tenting Billy's tighty-whities. It was so small, it was like the lump most boys had when they were soft. Still, Zane licked his lips with a moment's anticipation. Like a bear swiping an up-stream spawning salmon from a river, Zane pawed that cotton-wrapped fingerling and squeezed it hard enough to make Billy squeal. We all shushed him, and Zane stroked Billy with brutal efficiency. Following Zane's lead, I pushed Justin onto his back, and nestled between his knees. In those tights, he as green and hard as a jade statue. Gripping his padded and satin strapped pestle in my index finger and thumb, I stroked him a few times, and Justin arched his back reflexively, quietly moaning. We exchanged deep grins and knowing looks, and I settled my chest against his. Looking into his deep blue eyes, from inches away, it crossed my mind that I wanted to kiss Justin - but that would have been "weird." I had no idea he wanted the same. If only I could turn back time... Anyway, I lay my head down on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. Pushing with my knees, I started grinding my brief-bound cocklet into his. Though underwear and tights separated our flesh, there was no mistaking that hard, throbbing prong grating into my blood engorged boy bone. Justin pumped up to rub his rod into me, and our cocks were like two pieces of dry kindling, about to catch fire. We started pumping faster, and a minute later the mattress shook even more. Glancing over, I could see Zane's briefs were around his ankles and he was was vigorously plowing Billy's groin between the boy's cocked up knees. Billy moaned loudly, and I shushed him again. We all stopped for a second, listening for any movement upstairs, but we hadn't woken my parents (or at least I did't think so). Consciously stifling our groans and panting, Zane and I fucked Billy and Justin's crotches with total determination. I would have taken the time to shuck my undies like Zane if I didn't want to cum so badly. Hell, I would have shredded off Justin's costume if I had any control over my own hips. But I couldn't stop pumping. Moreover, my underwear fly's rough seams raked over my raging boyhood delightfully. It was just the right added friction that made me thrust harder. Justin was gritting his teeth, his eyes were closed and he slipped his fingers under the back of my waistband, and gripped my butt cheeks for leverage. When he squeezed them, it sent me over the edge. My cock burst with dry, itchy tingling, silently screaming at Justin's swollen tool. I could barely stifle my grunts, and my hips bucked hard, again and again. My orgasm started to wither away when Justin explosively expelled all the air out of his lungs, and his hips kicked up, grinding his meat into me. He savagely pumped up and down three or four times, holding his breath, then panted through the rest of his dying pulsations. I collapsed onto Justin, and we shuddered through our after quakes and caught our breath. I barely registered Zane and Billy gasping through their own climaxes because I was too enraptured with the warmth of Justin's slippery, satiny body against mine. He wrapped his legs around mine, hugging me with them, while his hands continued caressing my slender buttocks. That moment should have inspired some soul-searching on my part. I was relishing Justin's touch just as much as rubbing out an orgasm. But I was immature in body and soul, and had none of my best friend's introspection at that point. Still, I vividly recall the feeling of his silken wrapped chest under mine like it was this morning. Slowly, all four of us clambered up and got ready for bed, quietly taking turns in the upstairs bathroom, peeing and brushing our teeth. Justin finally traded his tights for a flannel pajama top, like Billy, while the Zane and I wore t-shirts over our briefs. Another movie was on when we climbed under the convertible sofa's covers. There could have been plenty of space between our bodies, but we squeezed together, with Justin on my left on the outside, Zane to my right, and Billy on his right. Of course, it didn't take long for our fingers to go on reconnaissance. My hands invaded both Justin and Zane's skimpy white underpants, roaming and probing their tight little balls, while the little boy cocks quickly swelled against my palm. Justin was caressing my torso under my t-shirt, something that felt so good I didn't want him to stop. Zane rummaged through my underwear fly, fondling all of my genitals for a moment, before pulling my raging little prong out of the elastic window. Giggling, he whispered something like "Tommy's got a boner" in a sing-song voice, and the other boys chuckled over the obvious. He stroked me for a only a minute before I suggested we get in our usual circular formation. The duvet went down, as well as our undies, and we sat cross-legged, knee-to-knee. As usual, Justin was on my left, gripping my 2-inch joy stick with a thumb and forefinger. Zane was on my right, and I clamped onto his slightly larger, circumcised cock with a thumb, index finger and second finger running parallel along his turgid little shaft on three sides. I'd pull up, stretching his circumcision scar over his knob, then rub down, pressing my fingertips into his slender little pubic mound, pushing his dickhead into my palm. It was like stroking him with a cylinder of digits. Right across from me, Billy's little cock - more knob than stem - invited Zane's forefinger and thumb, working like tweezers. Billy completed the circuit, jerking Justin with the bottom of his palm, fourth finger and pinky. "That's feels so rad, Billy. Can you do it faster?" Justin whispered, while stroking me a little harder. We were a fapping chain, with each boy's furious fist urging the next to accelerate his violent strokes. We took care to stifle our sighs, and the den echoed with only the rhythmic cadence of fiercely fluffing flesh, our quiet panting, and teenagers screaming on TV. The den was fragrant with the muskiness of young penis. Though I've replayed that night many times in my mind (and hand), over the years, I don't remember who came first. In my imagination, our four cocks erupted with dry tickles simultaneously. I just know that when my balls pulled further into me, and my turgid little 11-year-old flesh erupted with dry fireworks, I wanted more, and kept stroking Zane after he came. Like a game of "Telephone," we kept on jerking, pulling each other through a second or third orgasm. Exhausted and quaking, we pulled our underpants back in place, and crawled back under the covers. "Awesome," Zane muttered, curled on his side facing me, with Billy spooning him from behind. Justin lay on his back, and I curled over him, hooking my right thigh over his, while wrapping my arm across his skinny chest. Justin's right hand slipped under me, and slid into the back of my briefs. Someone shut off the TV, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I awoke some hours later in total darkness, laying on my back. A finger rolled up and down my boner through my undies. Zane was snoring, in a tangled cuddle with Billy. Justin was the culprit, and when I turned, toward him, he froze for a mere nano-second. Still half-asleep, I giggled and whispered, "Whatcha doin?" "Just petting a little bunny that got in the bed." "I don't think that's a bunny, Justin." "Huh. You know, it feels a lot more like a carrot." Had I a clue, I'd have asked him if it tasted like a carrot. But our sexual expertise at that point was primitive, at best. I slid my fingers into his skimpy white briefs and gripped his quivering hard-on by the shaft. Damn, but it felt good in my hands. Soft skin over iron hardness, and so compact and smooth. Hot and vaguely damp, and thumping with his pulse. I told Justin I'd found some celery in his underpants. "Let's make a salad," he whispered, and pulled me on top of him, spreading his legs. Once again, our aching, itching, throbbing pre-pubescent pistons pressed together through steamy, stretchy fabric. I flexed mine against Justin's. He giggled and flexed his against me. Then, he squeezed my buns with both hands, and I sighed. At that point, I hadn't quite discovered how much I loved having my ass fondled, nor how much Justin loved to play with it. I slid my arms under his shoulders and was about to start grinding against him when he stopped me. "Just a sec, Tommy." Hooking his thumbs in my waistband, Justin pulled my undies down by the sides, to the tops of my thighs. I raised my hips up so he could push his own out of the way. My boy flesh beat against Justin's, craving hot friction, I was about to panini press his pepperoni with my own when Justin gripped both our little erections in his right fist. We were both so fucking hard, merging together into one fiercely aroused sexual tendril. "Let's do it like this." I smiled and nodded, and repositioned my weight on my knees and elbows, so my pubic mound was a couple of inches above his, but our chests were together. It was like an electric current flowed from my nipples into his, and down to our groins. Going from dead asleep to awake, aroused and at my action station in under a minute, I didn't waste time with slow, gentle thrusts. No, at that point, my whole body was a quivering accessory to my raging, demanding little pants demon. I pumped my hips back and forth, in and out of Justins' fist, grinding against his cock and hand. In seconds Justin was pumping up to meet my every thrust. Together, our cocks fucked his hand in quick, urgent thrusts. The other boys were utterly comatose, in a tangle of tenderly entwined limbs. We glanced occasionally at them, and quiet giggled - especially when they bounced up and down a little with our thrusting. Soon enough, though, the joking was over, and it was all business. Justin gripped one of my buns with his free hand to pull me into him. The squeezing compression on my firm buttock was overwhelming. Justin needed those tingles as much as me - which is to say, desperately. Pumping and pumping, we throttled Justin's digits, and he stroked us both in counter point. His hand was so warm, but dry. If it had only been moistly lubed, we might have lasted longer. But that hot, rough friction was overwhelming. And the sensation of his pounding, steel-hard shaft joined to the underside of mine was both was as overwhelming to think about as it was too feel: we were fucking each other's dicks! "Gonna cum, Justin!" "Me too, Tommy!" I've humped a lot of guys over the years, and as I grew up, it evolved into simple foreplay. But back then, dick-to-dick friction wasn't an appetizer - it was its own feast. That Halloween night, it was sweeter than any candy, and it was a bigger rush than a mountain of Mars Bars. I don't know if we came at the same time because I lost sense of anything beyond the tingling friction in my loins, and the sharp finger pressure on my butt cheek. Muscles pulled from my anus to my nuts, and I could barely stifle my grunts. I rammed and rammed, while my childish testicles churned in vain, and my little wand burst with dry magic. I must have groaned with each and every pulsation, while stars burst inside my tightly cinched eyelids. I collapsed onto Justin, sighing, and nuzzling into the crook of my best friend's neck. Damn, I loved lying on top of him - or vice versa. Either way, our torsos and groins were made to be joined together. Moreover, I had such deep, trusting feelings for my best friend that I just wanted to stay like that forever. It was going to be a long time before I understood that feeling, something worthy of a beautiful four-letter word most people toss around gratuitously. After we pulled our undies back in place and rolled onto our sides, I curled around Justin, nestling my sated junk in his firm little bottom, and fell quickly back to sleep. While that night is still vivid in my brain, I only remember a few other sleepovers from middle school. But according to Justin's journals, we were together, sometimes with other boys, almost every weekend through 6th grade. And, with a couple of notable exceptions, every overnight was a onanistic fiesta. Of course, with the heavy snow of winter, sharing warmth with another under heavy duvets is always a sensually enchanting, even without sex. But Justin and I never drifted off to sleep without our hands in one another's groins. -------- February 11, 1987 I'm on ski trip to Jackson Hole with the Stolz's. It took forever to get here. Tommy and I got the way back seat in the van. We had a blanket over us so his sister Sarah and her friend couldn't see anything but Tommy and I slept most of the way holding each other's dicks. It's so rad feeling his hard boner. But I also like feeling it when it's soft like when he's still asleep. I just like holding it. Anyway, since we're sharing a hotel room with Justin's parents I don't think we we're gonna do anything. Still I love sleeping with him so much. -------- We'd nap that way even on buses to Sun Valley with his church youth group. However, even with a blanket covering us, we didn't dare jerk each other off. Nylon snow pants make a heckuva racket, and those buses were crowded. Anyway, as winter wore on, Justin and I would hop aboard his dad's snowmobile and ride out to the fort. The other boys would always get there by snow shoe, cross-country skis or snow mobile, and always have a fire going in a metal barrel high up on the snow drift. Though it was buried almost to the 8-foot roof in snow, Justin and I shoveled out a sloping path from the snow line down to the door's threshold. His old man may have been a total drag, but he had helped his son build a killer fort that withstood the elements for years. Flush against a hillside, the square structure was solidly built, with weather-treated 4x4s and outdoor plywood painted in a camouflage green. Justin's dad had tacked up fiberglass insulation on the ceiling, installed a couple of plexiglass windows, and even brought out some cheap futon couches. So he obviously loved his son, in his own weird way. The snow killed off any games of hide-and-seek games, like "Ghost in the Graveyard," because whoever was the ghost or "It" could just follow tracks to find the hiding boys. But that just meant lots of snowball fights. And it didn't stop our other reckless games. Someone rigged a rope swing on the hill side, and we turns doing diving summersaults down the hill - until Joey Laughterty rolled into a tree well and broke his arm. And then there was the BB Butt Challenge. The Butt Challenge was as stupid as it sounds. Each boy would take a turn as a target, about 50 paces away, dropping his trousers and underwear, and mooned the others. Using a crappy old single-shot, pump-action Daisy, the rest of us would take turns firing at the bare butt target. While the accuracy was limited to half that distance, a ball bearing could still break the skin at 50-60 feet, so this game was all about the target's courage. Hearing rounds whizzing over one's back, while cold air whipped one's bare ass lead more than one boy to chicken out. Such a defeat meant a heavy cost. First, the unfortunate boy had to spread his bare cheeks, while one of us packed it with snow. Next, the loser's underwear was loaded with more snow. After pulling his clothes back in place, the poor kid had to give the shooter a hand job before he could pull off his trousers, long-johns and undies to dry over the fire, while stomping to keep warm. A couple of times, though, a BB partially embedded itself in a target's skin. Those boys would scream, but held back tears with all their might, while we administered rudimentary first aid. With a stinging, bandaged ass, that boy would be the day's hero, assured tributes of candy and donuts for the rest of the week (and an amusing story for the P.E. locker room). Either through outdoor challenges or indoor games like strip poker, we'd usually end up jerking one another off in the fort (either in a circle, or coupled up), then turn on a dime to playing with Game Boys or starting D&D campaigns. If only we'd known about more than humping or beating off. But that would all change in the late Spring, and the discovery of porn. === === === === === === To be continued... Related Adult/Youth story: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/lessons-from-the-granny-flat/