Date: Wed, 25 Mar 2020 02:32:41 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: Making White gay young friends Nifty isn't free to maintain. It needs your donations to provide these wonderful stories. Consider giving at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The following is 100% made up. If you liked the story, I'd love to know it. Feel free to send feedback to butters2020@protonmail.com. If you didn't like it, I'd hate to know it, so send that feedback to someone else. Making White By Butters2020 Every summer since I was eight years old, I spent a month at my grandparent's house in Florida. Five days a week it was great: Gram fixed my favorite foods for dinner, days spent at the beach or the water park. Staying up late-it was heaven. Two days a week were hell. Wednesday night and all day Sunday I had to go to church with them. My parents never went to church and I guess Gram and Gramp were doing their best to make up for lost time and cram all the religion into me they could, knowing it would have to last a while. They went to Tropic Isles Baptist Church. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had just been an hour on Sunday but ALL FREAKING DAY! That first year when I was eight, I was bored out of my mind. Wednesdays weren't as bad because it was only for two hours, but it was still bad enough. More of the same when I was nine, ten, and eleven. We still went twice a week when I was twelve, but Tropic Isles had a new pastor. Pastor Mike was a lot better than the old fart they had before. he was less than a hundred years old for one thing. He was in his late thirties. Church still lasted all day but there was a guitar service at five followed by the potluck supper which broke up the monotony. Gram introduced me to Pastor Mike my first Wednesday with them that summer. "Howdy, Will. How old are you, 11? 12?" "Twelve, sir," I said. He nodded "I've got a boy your age. You'd probably rather hang out with him than listen to us old folks." He turned toward the back of the church some old geezers were making a fuss over a boy a little taller than me. The average age of the members at Tropic Isles was fifty. Usually I was the one the geezers fussed over. I didn't miss it. "Andrew!" Pastor Mike called. "Come here, son!" Andrew looked relieved to leave the old biddies and trotted over to us. "This is Will. He's Mr. and Mrs. West's grandson. Show him around, will you?" I'd probably been at Tropic Isles longer than Andrew had, and should have been the one showing him around, but he was the preacher's kid, so he was the de facto tour guide. He was bored as he led me down a hallway, pointing left and right without slowing down. "This is a Sunday school room. This is another one. Bathroom. Closet. Kitchen." We turned a corner. "More classrooms. Storage room." He opened that door and I followed him inside. He flicked a light switch. The place was full of cleaning supplies, ladders, a vacuum cleaner, several folding tables and folding metal chairs. He hopped up on a wooden desk. "Church sucks, " he said. I was shocked. I mean, I agreed with him, but his dad was the pastor. He was supposed to be all holy joe, not heathen Will. When I didn't answer he said, "What? Don't you agree?" Suspecting a trap, I said, "I don't know. It's not bad." He rolled his eyes. I had hoped to finally have a friend my own age here, but that hope was fading fast. I said, "I mean, it's not as much fun as a kick in the you know whats, or a trip to the dentist but . . . " He smiled and nodded his head. But then he laughed. "you know whats? You mean your nuts?" I blushed. If I said words like that I'd get punished for sure, so I never said them. "Your balls? Your babymakers?" I blushed harder. He was enjoying himself. "What about testicles? Can you say that?" "A kick in the testicles," I whispered, afraid someone might walk by the closed door and overhear. "You're a trip," he said. He noticed a paperweight on the desk next to him. He grabbed it and stood up. He shoved the paperweight down the front of his pants. "What are you doing?" I asked. "My dad caught me making white. I got the whole Sin of Onan lecture, don't touch yourself or you'll go to hell, bah blah blah. He tries to act cool but he's still a preacher." He pulled the paperweight out of his pants. "I'm gonna put this on his desk. He doesn't want me to touch my dick but every time he picks this us it'll be like he's touching my dick." This kid was something else. He had a one-track mind and the track seemed to be stuck on talking about his privates. "You ever make white?" he asked. "I don't know what that means." I was a late bloomer. I'd just turned twelve two months ago and only had a few hairs down there. I'd never heard of masturbation and my first wet dream was still three months away. Andrew didn't roll his eyes again. He seemed please to have an excuse to show off. "I'll show you," he said and unbuckled his pants. I almost left him there, but something held me. He seemed to know so much more than me and used words I was too afraid to use. But hearing him use them excited me. When the belt was undone, he undid his fly and dropped his Sunday pants. His white FTL soon followed. His penis was already semi hard. He grabbed it, never taking his eyes off mine, and played with it, wagging it, milking it, until it grew to a full erection. It was at least two inches bigger than the three inches my dick reached when it was stiff in the mornings when I woke up. Now that it was fully hard his hand was a blur as he pumped his dick. "You do it, too," he said. "Why?" it looked like he was trying to tear it off his body. He was exasperated with me I could hear it in his voice. "It's how you make white!" I didn't want him to be mad at me. And to be honest I didn't want him to stop making white. His was the first dick I'd ever seen that wasn't hanging between my own legs. I wanted to comply but was scared. "What if someone comes in?" "Lock the door. Don't be a homo, take your dick out!" he said. That didn't sound right to me, but I didn't challenge his logic. I took off my pants. He'd kicked his aside, but I didn't want mine to get dirty. I folded them and put them on the desk he was standing next to. This put me inches away from up his pumping hand. He was watching me intently as I took a breath and pulled off my briefs, putting them on the desk with my pants. "Let me see," he urged. My back was too him. I turned around, embarrassed by my smaller weener and three hairs. He had the beginnings of a full bush, which fascinated me. My weener was painfully hard, much harder than when I woke up with an erection. "It's little but it's cute," he said. Before I could stop him, he reached out and took hold of my weener, running his fingers along its short length. It felt good. "You like me playing with your cock, dontcha?" I did. I liked hearing him say "cock" too. He felt my weener-my cock-throb when he said it. He smiled and gave it a squeeze back, making me moan. "Play with your cock and balls while I do me." he said. "I like to watch." He was so dirty. I don't know why but I wanted to be dirty too. I wanted him to watch me. I tried to mimic his actions on my cock, but it didn't feel one tenth as good as when he'd touched me. I tugged at my tiny ball sack and he grunted in appreciation. I pulled it harder. He was dirty. I was dirty. We were being dirty together and it made my cock twitch. "here it comes!" he announced. He let go his dick and put his hands behind his head. His cock, free of his hands bounced of its own accord and with each bounce the head flared and the white he'd been promising shot out of the end of it. "Holy cow! You weren't kidding!" I said as another volley of white blasted from his cock. I reached toward, catching the slimy string in midair. "Told you," he bragged as the last of the white dribbled out of his dick. He got a look in his eye. "Rub my white on your cock. You probably can't make your own white, but you can use mine to get the feeling. Go ahead." I didn't hesitate. I smeared his white over my dick. Oh, sweet Jesus, it felt a thousand times better than when I'd just used my fingers on it. My fingers went faster. "Yeah," Andrew growled. "play with that little cock. Make it for me." he reached over and pinched my tit, nothing gentle about it. "Ow!" I said. "Keep playing with it!" he said twisting my nipple. "I like your titties. Play with your cock while I play with your tits." Every dirty word he uttered sent a jolt down my spine and into my cock, until with a particularly vicious titty twister I yelled out loud as the base of my spine sent a jolt of electricity to the head of my dick. "Oh! Oh! Help me! Oh!" He eased up on my nipple. "You don't need help, man. You had your first jizzer." He inspected my dick. "No white though. Not this time. Bet I can suck some out of you before the summer's out" From outside we heard Gram calling our names. We got dressed and made our way back down the hall. Wednesdays and Sundays weren't going to be so bad this summer. And I'm lucky Andrew was right: church would suck.