Date: Tue, 03 Oct 2023 13:19:55 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Justin's Journal | Part 3 An old friend's secret diaries open a window onto his 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 ====================== Before the internet, it was was difficult for middle school boys in the U.S. to get reliable information about sex. I don't mean learning about the mechanics of heterosexual reproduction. Even in Boise, Idaho in the 1980s, we knew from sex education that men could shoot sperm into a vagina, and 9 months later there'd be another mouth to feed. No, I mean when I was a kid, I had no idea that people had sex for fun or love - let alone the fact that girls didn't have to be involved at all. Hell, I didn't even know about masturbation until an accidental discovery one summer night when I was 10. You can be sure I clued in my best friend, Justin, almost immediately, and we introduced it to our crew. At the time, I thought it was just something fun to do. But Justin - the product of a religious household - was much more contemplative about the things we did together, as well as his relationship with me. In meticulous journal entries he kept until his death a few years ago, Justin documented not only his life, but his self-awareness. And well before I could even contemplate my own sexuality, Justin knew that he was gay. However, that part of the country has never been receptive to the LGBTQ community. So, by the time we were almost through with 6th grade, he never so much as broached the subject with me, his best friend and almost-daily handy man. At Justin's forest fort, mutual masturbation had become as common and accepted as blowing things up with cherry bombs. However, by Springtime, some of our friends had grown interested in girls, while all of us had discovered homophobia. Then, It was like a light switch had flipped. One day, jerking off was just something our group secretly shared, with no other value attached, and the next, it was all about imagining fucking various girls at school - or pretending to want it. -------- March 13, 1988 Today was weird. After church, I rode the Polaris over to Tommy's and picked him up to go to the fort. He had his bow and arrows so we could do some archery. When we go there, Billy, Andy, Sam and Chuck were looking at a couple of Playboys Chuck stole from his brother's porn stash. They were like the zombies in Return of the Living Dead: "Booobs. Booooooobs." It was so fucking gross. I don't get boned by sacks of chest flab, or furry old snatches. But I sure got super hard looking at their boners. Even Billy's little thing. It's like an acorn barely sticking out of his body but I really like feeling it. Shit I love feeling all the dicks. Speaking of Billy, I'm sure he was just pretending, same as Tommy. They were way more into jerking other guys that looking at the Playboys. I wish I had the guts to talk to Tommy about this. He's gotta be gay. Anyway I played along and we talked about Beth, Em's and Marla's tits and how they were so hot and how they looked like the Playboy girls and it's such bullshit. The only girl in our grade with boobs is Titia, anyway. When we circle jerked, Chuck and Andy were practically drooling. The rest of us were just watching each other. Damn I love jerking off other boys. -------- So there's the exact date girly porn entered our lives. All I remember is that over the next few months, the thrill of masturbation for its own sake - mining each other's flesh for tingles - became a ritualized cult of cunt. Stacks of Playboys, Penthouse and Screw accumulated, some in grotesque states of use. Boys would take turns reading the letters and short stories out loud, which is how we learned about a lot of things Coach Brimley never covered in the week of P.E. dedicated to sex ed, like oral sex. But at the same time, someone - maybe Chuck - joked about my mom sucking my dad's cock. At first, everyone laughed, but then everyone grew silent with the horrifying realization that their own parents might be doing the same. It took a lot of rough-housing and snowball fights to floss those images out of my mind. Anyway, I wasn't the only guy surprised that a "blow job" wasn't anything like the name implied. Moreover, this sort of education helped me figure out that I wasn't the only one tempted to put a cock in my mouth. -------- May 20, 1988 The Tigers creamed us today 8-1. Bernie's only the starting pitcher cause his dad is the coach. Coach Franklin should have pulled him after the 3 runs in the first inning. [2 paragraphs of detailed team analysis and a poem about baseball follow, along with a photo of Justin and me grinning in uniform, with our arms over each other's shoulders]. Tommy and I changed clothes and biked over to the fort. Tommy had his compound bow and we forgot all about the game. We nailed the foam bear target right in the heart almost every time. In reality, a 24-pound bow is only gonna piss off a grizzer. But some day when we get bigger, we can hunt with a 40 pounder. Not bears of course. What a waste that'd be. [A paragraph about hunting and conservation ethics follows]. Sam, Phil and Billy showed up, and we got in some excellent "Ghost in the Graveyard." [A paragraph of the game recaps follows] We went inside and busted out the pornos. I hate pretending I'm into chicks, just so I can feel Tommy's hard dick in my hand, and play with his balls. We're still about the same size, and not a hair in sight, thank God. Phil already has a couple and it just looks weird. But his boner is huge its like 4 inches: we measured it. (I'm 2.5 hard, and Tommy is 2.25). Sammy read a Penthouse letter from a college student who got a BJ. I want to do it to another boy so bad, especially Tommy. Maybe I'll ask him after my birthday party next Saturday. But maybe he's not gay and I'll lose my best friend. I hate this. -------- I've read this entry 10 times now, and still kick myself in the ass. If only either of us had the courage to talk. You know, not just about sucking dick, or even making out, but our feelings. Yeah, 12-year-olds talking about their "feelings." That would be as rare as gold and as radioactive as polonium. Shit, I could barely deal with my own feelings about myself. I really couldn't explain why in bed at night, when my hands were in my briefs, I was thinking about Justin's hard cock, and wondering what it tasted like. Eventually, Justin and I would unravel our relationship, but not before things got more complicated, weird, and awful. Yet even with the secrets we kept from each another, we grew closer and bolder, as the days got warmer. It was like we couldn't keep our hands off one another, whenever there was a chance. But we also couldn't keep our hands off our friends. -------- June 10, 1988 I'm writing this at Tommy's place and I have to be quick. My 12th birthday party yesterday afternoon was totally rad. My parents rented out the party room at the pool and I invited [a list of 15 boys and 5 girls follows]. We did a lot of the usual stuff like Marco Polo. Tommy turned Sharks and Minnows into dick tagging. He told me he was gonna do it and called it "Bonerama." It was so funny when all the guys had to hide their hard dicks when we got out for burgers! Tommy said I had to wait for my "big" birthday present after Church today. When I got to the fort this afternoon, Phil, Zane, Billy, Sam and Tommy stripped me and then I got a special birthday spanking over Tommy's knee (he was really into it and his boner was jabbing me in the side). Then they blindfolded me and tried to make me cum once for every year! My dick hurt after 6 times! At least they used Lubriderm. I got to jerk most of them too. I really wanted to put them in my mouth like in the Penthouse blowjob stories. If only I could. Tommy's getting out of the shower and we're going to bed soon. I have another boner already and it's a good thing I still have my clothes on cause we have to kiss his folks good night. -------- Raft races and diving for quarters were all fun - but Sharks and Minnows became a whole new ball game with Bonerama. Despite what Justin wrote, as I remember it, he was an equal co-conspirator on this innovation. Justin and I volunteered as early sharks, with a plan to tag boy "minnows" in the crotch. I got Zane first, and squeezed his dick for at least two seconds. He giggled and squealed "No fair - no touching there!" It was enough to get him tenting his tight trunks. Zane eagerly grabbed Phil's and another boy's crotches, who both giggled and "complained" about how they were tagged. But on the next round, Phil tagged Margie in the boob. Then Chuck followed suit with Cindy. For nearly a half-hour, everyone got into the erroneous antics. The girl sharks eagerly took advantage of the new rules to cop a feel of the boys, as well. Amazingly, none of the adults grilling and chatting noticed any of the sexualized pool savagery. Most likely, they were fairly well lubricated with beer and margaritas. Then, my dad announced that food was on, bringing the titillation train to a sudden stop. Boys were doing a lot of awkward adjustments, especially those with board shorts that easily tented with nothing underneath.Mom looked both amused and horrified at a couple of boys before they wrapped towels around their waists. At the same time, the girls were amused (at least according to my friend Carol). Planning ahead, I'd worn my team speedo under my Birdwells, which kept my 2-or-so inch erection securely running up behind my fly, and Justin had worn a pair of undies to tie down his own diminutive piece in his Quicksilvers. For whatever reason, there was no sleepover that night, and thus, no mutual masturbation. However, we more than made up for it at the fort on a sizzling afternoon I've replayed in my head many times over the years. We were running around the forest doing who-knows-what, and still had our clothes on when Justin finally arrived. However, that didn't last long. We all stepped inside and stripped him naked, and then ourselves. Although most everyone gets playful birthday spankings, this was the first time any one of us had gotten one in the raw, and maybe that's why everyone was fully engorged when Justin was dragged over to the rickety chair I sat on. Justin's resistance was all performative, since his rigid little prong swept left and right with every step like a dowsing rod searching for sex. As Justin wrote, my aching hardness pushed into the side of his belly, when he lay over my knees, making him giggle with amused arousal. His little boy buns were slender, yet round, and just a bit paler than his as-yet untanned torso. I got first dibs. I rubbed his buttocks for a few moment, enjoying the soft firmness, while also taunting him. "I'm gonna blister your ass, boner boy." "You're the boner boy," he cackled. I gave him a firm swat on one cheek, and watched his skin ripple outward like water on a magical pond. I didn't spank him hard, of course, but it was just enough to make him grunt. And then I gave him another. Taking turns, each of our gang got in two swats, pausing between each spank to tease Justin about his increasingly pink bottom. In between sets, my hand traced around his buttocks. Heat radiated off his bottom delightfully. Billy was the last, and that little horn dog got on his knees and bit Justin's left butt cheek. He didn't do it very hard, but enough for Justin to squeal with surprise and the other boys to laugh, thinking Billy was just joking. In retrospect, though, it was obvious Billy was becoming as boy-crazy as Justin and me. From my vantage point, I saw Billy's right hand disappear between my legs, and then Justin gasped. Billy's forearm raised and lowered for half a minute, until Justin moaned. Then, Justin's hips pumped downward in time with Billy's stroking. Every time he pushed downward, little divots formed on the outside of Justin's adorable buns. Spank! Spank! Billy sharply slapped each of Justin's cheeks, making my friend gasp with pleasure. His breathing grew deeper. My hips started micro-thrusting on their own, delicately pumping my boy gristle into Justin's side. And I wasn't the only one totally aroused by Justin's spanking. The other boy swere staring with slack-jawed lust, slowly stroking themselves. "That's only ten, Tommy." "Go for it, Billy." Billy gave Justin two fierce spanks that made Justin groan. Still, he kept thrusting into Billy's hand, while I gave him a milder, final swat. "One to grow on." "I don't think he can grow any longer," Billy chuckled, now stroking Justin so hard his whole shoulder was rocking. I caressed Justin's buttocks, while they flexed with every pump, relishing the way they transformed from soft to hard, and back to soft. His breath turned to moans. "Uuuuuunnnngh!" Justin's hips kicked upward, then slammed down explosively. Billy kept stroking, while Justin cried out again and again, and his pelvis thrusted up and down, fucking the Billy's hand through brutal, dry pulsations. Finally, his climax died away, and Billy released Justin. I caressed Justin's bottom some more, my blood almost as inflamed as his butt cheeks. It took all my strength to not kiss his rosy bottom all over. "So you ready for your Big Present?" "That...uh...wasn't it?" Justin was still catching his breath, while I helped him to his feet. I was glad to see his reddened cock was still raging with need. "Nope," I replied with a chuckle, then let him in on our goal. "12 times?? You gotta be kidding." An advantage of prepubescence is the near absence of a refractory period - something we didn't know at the time. All we knew is that we could cum again and again, almost without pausing. But even so, 12 orgasms would be ambitious. Sam had rigged a blindfold out of one of his sister's MaxiPads and a string. None of us knew what it was made out of until it was secured in place, and we were holding Justin down on a futon mattress, spread eagle. Then Sam told us and we screamed with laughter, while Justin made a theatrical show of disgust and feigned struggling again. I'm not sure who was where, but there were four of us sitting each on Justin's limbs, with me sitting on my heels between his widely spread legs. Wordlessly, Phil handed each of us a bird feather. We tried to hold in our laughter, but someone failed, because Justin's defenses went up. "What are you guys doing??" A moment later, he found out. The boys holding down Justin's arms lightly dusted his arm pits, drawing shrieks out of Justin. The boys sitting on each of his legs started on the bottoms of Justin's feet, making things even worse for the poor boy. Justin was howling, begging for mercy, laughing and fighting in vain. The boys on his arms started feathering Justin's chest, and his nipples hardened into daggers. About the same time the leg boys tickled his inner thighs. That's when I brought my feather to bear on his compact, slightly wrinkled little scrotum. A little bigger than mine, his bag was not as tight. But his nuts were also undescended. All the same, they were ripe for the tickling, and this added touch made Justin shriek. "Guys! PLEASE! STOP! STOP!" Justin was my very best friend, and I knew from his tone he'd had enough. Wordlessly, I signaled my friends to quit. Later, I realized that if I'd worked on his quivering prong, my feather could have made the boy convulse with a violent climax. Still, I was eager to touch him directly. I'd brought a bottle of our recently discovered secret weapon: hand lotion. Squeezing copious amounts of the chilly goo all over Justin's hard, bouncing flesh, we practically drowned it. On my knees between my friend's widely spread legs, I almost laughed at the circumcised tip emerging and submerging from that viscous white swamp. Like an osprey's talons slicing into a murky swamp, my fingers clamped around Justin's slippery sex eel, and a slurry of slippery slop squirted between them. He was so damned hard, I can still feel his rigid boy bone pounding in muscle memory today. With the same artless approach I'd been using for almost 2 years, I rubbed his nub fast and hard. "Oooh! Yess! That feels so goooood, Tommy!" With that blindfold on, how did he know it was me? Well, we'd been pounding each other's beef since we were 10, at first occasionally, and as time went on, obsessively. Sometimes, I rubbed him with a perpendicular grip, using a thumb and two finger tips on his shaft. Other times, I pushed and pulled with my thumb and two fingers running in parallel on three sides, from his crown to his base. So he knew my touch instantly. It was always exquisite and electric, even if we were rubbing it out rapidly and silently in a middle school boy's room stall. But now, prone and helpless, he gave himself up to me, and I was thrilled to engulf his needy flesh with my frenzied fingers. Justin's slender belly undulated faster, as his breath grew tattered. His hips started moving on their own, and little squeaky grunts piped through his gritting teeth. "Ooooh Tommy! Faster! Faster!" Changing to a full fist, I squished all of him - from root to tip - in a savage, greasy grip. While I pounded his diamond-hard, blood-angry bone in a blur, white hand lotion flew about, hitting a couple of the other guys. Aside from the giggles, the only sounds bouncing off the wall were from Justin's labored breath and desperate mewls, along with the fast, squelching cadence of my fist on my friend's slippery bone. I knew from experience the direct wet friction on Justin's tender, circumcised tip, along with the rapid rubbing along his shaft would be quickly overwhelming, and within a minute, I could feel his little nuts pulling from my fingertips. Justin's thigh muscles flexed, and suddenly, he squealed. Justin's cock was kicking in my hand, while his body shook under the boys mobilizing him. Crying out while his prepubescence lurched in vain to expel what he could not yet make, his skin flushed for a moment. I slowed my stroking, but never stopped, even as his climax faded away. "My turn!" Billy eagerly shouldered me aside, replacing his hand with my own. I poured some more Lubriderm on the Justin's groin, drenching Billy's little hand in the process. I sat on Justin's thigh and watched Billy wetly polish Justin's blood-swollen club in a squishy slurry. You know, it really sounded like that noise you make when you pull your cheek in and out - but much louder, much wetter, and so much filthier. A couple of the boys were pulling themselves off in open delight at the show. I don't remember who. But one thing is clear: Justin climaxed again, within minutes. And then someone else tagged in for Billy. It took much longer the next couple of times, but not from any gentle teasing. Back then when we masturbated each other back then, it was with ruthless purpose: to get those tingles. By the time we'd all had a turn on Justin's joint, his body quivered if you touch him anywhere. After all, he'd cum five times in under an hour, and his poor little penis was getting sore. Still, he was resigned to at least one more try. Phil knelt Justin's knees, and pumped more lube onto Justin's love muscle until it barely wriggled visibly, like an impossibly red earthworm surfacing in a hard rain. A tall brunette pitcher on Justin's Little League team, Phil had straight brunette hair hanging to his jaw line, and glistening, chestnut eyes. Despite the fact none of us had worn shorts in 8 months, he retained vague tan lines at his waist and across his thighs, a couple of inches below his hairless scrotum. That I know because of the one Polaroid Justin took that afternoon - of the five of his naked friends lined up with arms over each other's shoulders, flashing peace signs and sticking out our tongues. It took a lot of cajoling and promises for Justin to get that shot at the end of the day, and none of us appear erect (though with Billy's tiny equipment, only a forensic biologist could be sure). Anyway, Phil's erection was slender and almost as long as Sam's 3.5 inches, with a pair of spheres tightly bound to the base with veiny skin. Thing is, when he was soft, he wasn't a whole lot smaller. Anyway his hairless excitement palpated, bobbing up and down. He gripped Justin's lotion-logged driftwood with a thumb and two fingertips running in parallel down three sides of Justin's tender, 2-inch prong. But before Phil could even start sloshing through the sex slurry, the birthday boy wanted his share of the fun. At the time, we 6th graders didn't give any thought to Justin's demand: that he get to beat off the boys sitting on his arms. I mean, it was all just stupid fun, right? But it should have been a major clue that for Justin, rubbing another boy's cock wasn't just compensation for getting wanked. He loved penis, while Sam and Zane were hard and ready. They clambered off of Justin's arm. Zane sat cross-legged, facing Justin's body. Meanwhile, Sam briefly knelt over Justin's face, and dragged his rigid little love hammer around Justin's lips. "You want that, don't you, Justin..." For a brief moment, Justin almost kissed it. I could see it, clear as daylight. Justin's mouth started to purse, while that circumcised glans just passing over his upper lip. Justin's journal confirms it. He wanted to eat that dick. But a second later, Justin made an ostentatious display of rejection. "Gross, dude. Get that thing outta here!" Sam giggled and sat cross legged, opposite Zane. Of course, nobody questioned the logic: "disgusted" by another boy's erection, Justin still wanted one in each hand. Both things could be true. We all loved playing with each other dicks, while we simultaneously absorbing middle school straight norms. In a second you could see the pleasure spread across Justin's face in a big, satisfied grin, while his fingers flowed across Sam and Zane's groins like an octopus's tentacles. He wasn't just doing tit-for-tat rubs; he was relishing every rigid contour of their circumcised boy cocks. Satisfied with his exploration, Justin started stroking the boys vigorously. Phil followed suit, polishing Justin's little lotion snorkel with violently combusting cavitations. In that penis paradise, all the giggling melted into quiet, determined panting. It was so damned arousing, I couldn't help but grab my own 2-or-so-inch throbber and start jerking with frisky need. My three fingers flew up and down my shaft, pulling my circumcision scar over my knob, then pulling it down ruthlessly into my hairless grown, stretching my skin tightly. With my eyes closed, I fell into the rapturous itching joy erupting out of my cock. But then, Justin squealed and his lower leg kicked a little under my under my taint and between my buns. My eyes flew open. With a wicked grin plastered on his face, Phil was tickling Justin's tiny balls with a feather, and pumping the boy faster. Justin's hips started grinding, and he jerked Sam and Zane faster. Billy moaned, gritting his teeth. Sitting on Justin's other leg, he jerked himself to a savage climax, just before the birthday boy's painfully labored 5th orgasm. Mewling and gasping, Justin pumped his hips up and down, fucking Phil's fingers with rabid need At the same time, Zane and Sam were heaving and panting, and their torsos undulated with undisguised passion. Riding Justin's kicking leg was all too much for me, and I polished my flesh in a frenzy. In just seconds, tissues pulled from my anus to my balls, and I groaned with loudly tortured delight. My cock heaved and spasmed drily several times, and nebulas burst across my eyelids. Other moans joined mine, until, at last our climaxes faded away. Slowly, we caught our breath, and Justin scraped a lake of lube off his finally softening cock. The poor little fingerling was finally spent, flopping softly onto his undescended nuts. All but Phil had cum at least once, so Justin set to work on the tall, bony boy. Phil sat with his back to a wall, and his legs splayed. Phil gazed in wonder while Justin poured on the Lubriderm and eagerly gave him a loudly squelchy handy. In minutes, Phil's lanky legs were flexing, and he gasped and groaned and came drily in Justin's gooey hand. Taking runs with the rest of us, Justin first fondled, then lubed and stroked us through our second or third orgasms that afternoon. He left me for last. By then, he was literally aching for one last climax, so we lay on our sides facing one another. Smiling angelically in my eyes, he traced a finger all over my rigid boy rod, and then my balls. I smiled and miirrored him, because it tickled so nicely. However, if I'd been honest with myself then, I'd have had to admit I simply loved touching his cock, whether hard or soft. But that would have lead to the sort of self-examination I was only on the cusp of approaching. Anyway, after a few moments of "tickling" giggles out of one another, we slopped each other with more hand lotion and set to stroking with downward fists, pulling away from each other's smooth boy groins. I remember how full Justin's lips looked while he smiled encouragingly at me; how his slightly parted lips gently opened a closed with his faster breathing; how his whole body seemed to quiver with delight. God, how I wanted to kiss him. I was so achingly hard, and Justin's diamond swollen stiffy must have been unendurably agonizing. His rock hard, circumcised glans plowed a furrow in my palm like a hot meat missile. Losing ourselves in the sensations in our groins and fists, we savaged one another. Rapidly fapping through the soggy slurry, it took only a few more minutes for our prepubescent loins to erupt, at nearly the same time. Justin was first. But though his mind was reeling with endorphins, he kept pulling on me, grunting and gasping while his hips were bucking. As the slits of my cinching eyes finally shuttered, my last sight of my loudly moaning friend was his head thrown back in surrender to the rapturous explosions in his groin. Then, my own cock drily vomited in Justin's grip, kicking with a series of infertile detonations that started somewhere behind my balls, and blasted out my abdomen. While I groaned and whined with every gasping breath, every muscle in my body flexed and relaxed with each glorious pulsation. Heaving and catching our breath, Justin and I lay there on the futon and smiled at each other with wordless chuckles. We still held one another tenderly, while quickly softening. It was a wonderful moment Phil quickly ruined. "Just wait 'til Marla's jerkin' ya, Justin. It'll be ten times better." Yeah, or Emma," someone added. While the other boys started talking about various girls, I glimpsed a dark cloud cross Justin features. But the moment passed, and releasing me, he seemed to join in the increasingly misogynist joking. Eventually recovering our clothes, we left the fort to seek out the traditional risky pastimes of unsupervised tweens in a forest. But as we shut the door on the fort, we were also unknowingly turning our backs the last carefree afternoon of unconditional boyhood passion. We were relinquishing the easy-going, guilt-free pleasure boys could freely share, just for the fun of it. In the summer before 7th grade, many of our friends would be yearning for the touch of girls, while those who were still repelled by the opposite sex would put on Kabuki displays of heterosexuality. Only a few of us would be privately unconstrained, and even then, the tumult of growing up would test our bonds. === === === === === === To be continued... Related Adult/Youth story: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/lessons-from-the-granny-flat/