Date: Thu, 04 Apr 2019 13:46:20 +0000
From: hlc676+7zdij473vw2gg@guerrillamail.com
Subject: Robin's Adventures ? Part 24 | G <YF>

Summer was in sight, and y 16-year-old sister, Lori would get up early a
couple of days a week to go surfing with me before school. It would have
been great if she drove us, but because the 70s Energy Crisis left gas
prices high, she didn't want to waste fuel. Biking to the beach, we even
managed to get my 10-year-old brother Chris to come out with us on a few
Saturdays.

My friend and classmate Zach started dating my other friend Meg, and they
looked really cute together. With Zach's long, flowing hair falling on his
peasant shirts, and with his slender, round ass, from behind, you might
think you saw two girls holding hands. I think they were falling in love,
which was a good thing. Zach had let Jason and me know that his secret
boyfriend dumped him recently. The mystery boy had been getting weird,
saying what they were doing was a sin, and finally broke it off. Since Zach
liked girls almost as much as boys, I was glad he had such a sweet and
pretty girl in his life.

Since we were all in 8th grade, Meg was taking things very slowly. Though
they made out after school every day, she'd only let him touch her boobs,
and she never groped his frustrated hard on. And as puberty was hitting
Zach hard, he was jerking it at least twice a day, and visiting Jason or me
for hot, hard relief, as well.

One day after school, my swim team practice was called off, Zach biked with
me up the hill to my house for a swim in our pool. Our house was clothing
optional, mostly (though my mom forbade naked butts on the indoor
furniture), so when we got out back, I stripped all my clothes, rinsed off
in the shower, and jumped in. Zach, despite coming from a hippie family,
was getting shy. He was nervous about his increasingly frequent,
uncontrolled boners. Since my sister and her boyfriend, Jeremy were in the
kitchen, doing homework, Zach left on his sparklingly white briefs, with
their dashed blue waistband, before joining me.

After he rinsed off and walked toward the pool, I admired his slender body,
and especially his flaccid boyhood, as his soaking underpants clung to his
junk. He smiled, jumped in, and swam a couple of laps before we started our
usual "wrestling."

With rubbery arms and legs slipping across slick boy flesh, we didn't even
need gentle squeezes to bring each other to raging hardness. I traced my
forefinger down the tent pole diagonally out from Zach's tight white
undies, down to feel the soft divide between his nuts, then back again. We
pressed our wet chests together, engorged nipples dragging across softly
padded rib bones. Leaning to gently kiss his pillowy lips, I felt his
fingers clamp around my stem. I moaned into his mouth, before out tongues
met to tickle and twine. He tasted vaguely of potato chips.

Zach's boner throbbed and pulled against his tight undies, and I clasped
his cotton-clad hardness gently. He firmly squeezed my rigid 3 inches, as
it pulsated from my still hairless, late-blooming loins. Stroking me with
most all of his hand, he was all business that afternoon, hungry for
release.

Pulling away from our passionate kiss, Zach growled into my ear, "I'm so
fucking horny, Sanford," and pounded my tender little bone all the harder.

I took the hint, and reached into his briefs, tracing my fingers across his
depilated bare loins. First, I gently rubbed finger tips from his bald
base, up to his hip, then around and around that submerged, raging cock
head. He arched his head back to moan hard. Kissing his the soft cords of
his neck, I ran my other hand under his drowning balls, tickling them
through their soft cotton basket. Grasping his throbbing, 4-inch boyhood by
the stalk, I stroked him with the same increasing urgency with which he
treated me.

Leaning against one another, our hands were a blur of submarine lust, and
breath grew shallower and faster. I felt Zach's low-hanging balls pull up,
tightly quivering with his impending explosion. I didn't want to clean
sperm floaters around the pool, so I quickly pulled my jerking hand out of
Zach's briefs, making him whimper. But then I clenched his passion pole
through his underpants, stroking him hard and fast in his soft, thick,
center panel. Half a minute later, his arms wrapped around me to squeeze me
tight, as he groaned uncontrollably, humping into my hand and groin. I
stopped stroking when I felt his cock erupt, and held him gently as he
pounded gradually slower in our embrace. As our wet long hair streamed
together, Zach leaned his head against mine, panting and kissing my neck.

Getting his breath under control, Zach whispered, "Thanks, Robin. I really
needed to that. I've been so hard all day."

I smiled and kissed him. "That's what friends are for."

I felt his hands clutch me again. But before he could stroke me, I
whispered, "Let's go up to my room."

He nodded and grinned, then we swam to the stairs. Not wanting to advertise
my boner to Lori and Jeremy, I wrapped a towel around my waist. After quick
hellos with the big kids, we ran upstairs. Zach went to my shared bathroom
to rinse out his pool-water-and-cum-drenched undies, then closed the door
to my bedroom, while I pulled back the covers on bed, and lay a dry towel
on the bottom sheet. I lay back with my knees up and spread away from my
pulsating little boner. Zach smiled as his eyes roamed from my skinny hips,
down my "V," to a cock pulsing with a "come hither" motion.

Zach sat opposite me, and stretched his naked thighs over mine and we
scooted forward until our junk touched. Zach's slender 4 inches quivered,
and as I gently held his low-hanging scrotum, his cock began to fill
again. Zach's bag was so skinny; it was like someone had poured skin and
tiny veins around two marbles. And yet they were so much bigger than mine.

As I rolled his nuts, Zach also gently cupped my tight, smooth,
walnut-sized bag, where my tiny nuts refused to leave the skinny alcove
between my thighs. I sighed from the warmth of his fingers, content to be
in his tender touch. I loved how much bigger his sack was than mine, and
couldn't wait for my puberty growth spurt. The faint perfume of his pre-cum
tickled my nose, and I grew harder.

At the same time, I understood why Zach asked my sister to sugar wax away
his small bush. He was hoping to bone Meg - or at least he hoped she'd give
him a handy - and he didn't want to scare her. Rumor was that she was as
physically immature as me.

As I caressed around his bare pubis, he asked, "Do you like me smooth?"

Undeniably, I had been envious of Zach. His voice was changing. He'd grown
pubes. And he shot thick, syrupy cum. I was still built on a chassis better
suited for an 11-year-old. But I lied. "Yeah, it's hot."

I reached over to my bedside table to pull out a bottle of baby oil, then
scooted forward so we sat face to face. My skinny 3 inches throbbed up
against Zach's thicker 4 inches, and we touched noses before sharing
another tender kiss. I warmed up the oil with both hands, and wrapped them
around both of our pulsating boners.

As I gently stroked from our crowns to our bases, we started breathing
harder. Then Zach slicked up one of his hands to replace one of mine. Our
combined fist slid up and down, and we could feel each other's pulse
quickening inside our conjoined dicks. Zach's balls swung back and forth,
occasionally high enough to hit my constricting little nuts.

The squelching grew as loud as our mounting moans, and we furiously beat
our combined meat in a joint frenzy.

"Don't...stop...Robin!"

I barely heaved a reply, "No...shit!!"

The heat built as our hands frenzied on each other's pulse-pounding
poles. I leaned in to kiss Zach again, then bit his lip, while he groaned
and massaged my tiny nuts with his other hand.

His little, mushroom nozzle oozed even more boy-lava, and his moisture
melted into our lubed, pounding hands. With my free digits, I caressed up
and back the inside of Zach's soft, slender thigh. Then I reached down to
once again cup his straining balls. My gentle massaging eventually pushed
Zach over the edge, as he pulled our joint masturbating grip violently
harder, crushing our dicks together like one detonating canon.

Zach clenched his eyes shut, grit his teeth and groaned loudly, while his
stomach tensed and his cock erupted with hot effluent. Thinner than his
usual viscous ropes, it was still copious, hitting us both in the hair,
face and torso, before covering our hands in a slick, boy-sticky mess.

The site of young cum dribbling down my cute friend's shoulder length hair
was enough for me, and my nuts pulled as dry fire burst out of my still
pre-pubescent penis. I choked off a scream, as stars exploded, and then I
fell into darkness.

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

One day at lunch, Jason whispered that his tennis coach was sick, and he
had the afternoon off. Raising an eyebrow, he asked if I wanted to help him
"relieve Zack's blue balls." I chuckled, and started boning up thinking
about the possibilities. But I ballet practice after school. "You're loss,"
he giggled.

Late that afternoon, the phone rang. My sister picked it up.

"Hello?" she answered. "Hey mom."

She listened for a couple minutes, every so often saying, "uh huh," while
she turned to look at me. Finally she said, "OK, see you later." Then she
handed the phone to me.

"Hi mom," I said.

"Robin, sweetheart, something's happened to Jason." The rest was a blur of
words, and I felt dizzy and sick. As I pieced it all together later, Zack
went with Jason to his house. Since no one was supposed to be home until
dinner, they didn't even make it to Jason's bedroom to bone. Zach was
balls-deep into Jason's ass when the front door opened.

Jason's dad, who had moved out, assumed both his sons were at tennis
practice. Thinking it would be a good time to go to the house with his
girlfriend, he wanted to pick up more of his things. When he saw the two
boys fucking, he went ballistic. Zach later told me Mr. Bisset shoved him
naked out the front door, past the shocked girlfriend, yelling "Get out of
my house, you little faggot!"

After the door slammed shut, Zach hid in a nearby shrub, listening to a man
yelling, and a boy screaming for several minutes. Then he heard a woman
screaming, and the door opened. The girlfriend was dragging Mr. Bisset out
by the arm, yelling, "You're going to kill him!"

"You're damn right I'm gonna kill him. No son of my mine is gonna be a
faggot!"

But eventually, she got him into their car, and they drove away. Zach went
back in, and found Jason sobbing and bleeding. Over Jason's objections,
Zach called Jason's mom, Dr. Bisset, who rushed back home. Before she
arrived, Zach helped Jason into his undies and trousers. But Jason shrieked
when Zach tried to get his arm into a sleeve.

Dr. Bisset took one look and drove Jason to the emergency, while Zach
filled her in on the events. Jason was sobbing, "I'm so sorry, mom." But
she stopped him. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's that evil bastard
that's going to be sorry."

At the hospital, x-rays showed Jason had a fractured forearm, from blocking
one of his dad's punches, and a cracked rib. Dr. Bisset reported the
assault to the cops stationed at the emergency room. Our little beach town
didn't have its own force, so we used the county sheriffs. When they heard
the whole story, they were not very sympathetic. This was well before
society started to open up about child abuse. These sheriffs chalked the
whole thing up to "strict parental discipline."

Dr. Bisset was livid, but there was little she could do. She'd never
reported any of the times she'd been hit by her husband, so there was no
record of domestic violence. As my mom told me over the phone, "Angela's
first concern is keeping Jason safe. So he'll be living with us for the
next week or two. They should be getting there soon."

When I finally put the phone down, I was reeling with worry for Jason. Lori
massaged my shoulders, and kissed my cheek.

About an hour later, the front door opened, and Dr. Bisset helped Jason
in. Shirtless, with a zipped open hoodie draped around his shoulders, he
looked terrible. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and there were bruises
all over his face, and torso. His tennis arm was in a sling. I rushed over
to him, and started sobbing. He turned his broken, beaten face toward me
and whispered the Monty Python line, "It's only a flesh wound," then kissed
my cheek.

"Robin, can you clean Jason up in the shower? Don't let his cast get
wet. And then let him lie down? Keep an eye on him until I get back?" She
asked. She gave me a plastic bag and rubber band to put over the plaster
cast.

"Of course."

"I'm meeting a locksmith to change the locks, then Sean and I will be
spending the night with your family."

I helped Jason upstairs to the bathroom. As I knelt down to pull off his
shoes and socks, I could smell urine. Then, as I rose up to undo his
trousers, I realized Jason pissed himself during the assault.  His briefs
were stained yellow.

I pulled off my clothes as well, and helped Jason into the shower. Using
the detachable nozzle, I gently soaped and scrubbed my poor boy, from his
lower torso to his toes. He couldn't raise his arm, so I hand washed his
upper chest, pits and shoulders, then gently washed his poor, bruised
face. When he started to sniffle, I gently wrapped my arms around his waist
and kissed him tenderly.

Once dry and back in my room, I eased him into my largest pair of sweat
pants, and lowered him onto my bed. Then I raced down to the laundry room
with Jason's soiled clothes, to toss them in the wash. The painkillers he
was on must have been strong, because he was gently snoring by the time I
got back.

My parents arrived and quietly checked with me, as I read a book, and kept
watch on Jason. Just before dinner, Dr. Bisset and Jason's younger brother,
Sean arrived, with a couple of small bags and a large suitcase. I roused
Jason, wrapped him in a bathrobe, and helped him downstairs, where we all
had a very quiet meal. Jason barely ate anything, and asked to be excused
as soon as we were done. I helped him into the bathroom, so he could pee
and brush his teeth. When we got back to my room, I saw the large suitcase
was open, and it was full of Jason's clothing. He just wanted to go back to
bed, so I pulled slid down the sweatpants, pulled out a pair of his white
Fruit-of-the-Looms and eased them up his slender legs. After I lowered him
into bed, I turned off the light, but left the door open a crack.

Downstairs, my parents were in a deep, quiet discussion with
Dr. Bisset. She looked up and asked about Jason. I told her he'd gone back
to bed. She went upstairs to check on him, I slumped down, and my parents
sighed.

"That maniac is dangerous," my dad said. "So we're going to keep Jason's
location a secret for the next couple of days. Angela wants you to bring a
note to the principle tomorrow."

"People are going to ask what's happened to him," I said.

"Since the cops aren't helping, we're just going to say Jason had a serious
bike accident." They didn't want to put Jason in even greater danger from
bullies."We've already called Zach to let him know."

In the den, my brother and Sean were watching TV, and I pulled Chris aside
for a word. "By now, you gotta realize Jason and Sean don't care if you
have to wear diapers at night, right?"

He nodded, and I continued. "And their mom sees you diapers all the time,
right? So wouldn't it be OK, at this point, if we all don't have to dress
in diapers?"

He smiled. "Of course, silly. I was going to tell you that, anyway."

I kissed Chris, and ruffled his hair. Then we went upstairs so I could get
him ready for the night. After peeing and brushing his teeth, Chris shed
his trousers and tiny briefs, and I quickly diapered him. Unembarrassed to
be swaddled for the night around the Bissets, Chris quickly jostled Sean
for position in front of the TV.

Dr. Bisset was back at the table. Though it was early for me to go to bed,
I said my good nights, and headed upstairs. After using the bathroom, I
tiptoed into bed, and stripped to my gpssamer little briefs. Very quietly,
I crept under the covers, and lay on my side facing my poor boy. Gently
curling some of his collar-length hair around his ear, I lightly kissed his
tender face, and eventually fell asleep.

I woke to hysterical screaming. Jason was sobbing and shrieking, "No, dad,
please, no!"

About the time I peeled my eyes open, the lights came on, and my parents
were rushing over. A minute later, Dr. Bisset appeared in a nightgown. As
Jason emerged from his nightmare, we all tried to sooth him as he sobbed
wretchedly. That's when I realized my briefs and the sheets were wet. I
motioned my dad over and whispered into his ear, "Jason had an accident."
He nodded, and whispered to Dr. Bisset and my mom, who told us they'd be
right back. I guess that's when Jason noticed he'd wet the bed, and started
crying again.

I told him it was OK, but he was humiliated. My dad levered Jason up, and
told me to help him with a quick shower while he took care of the
bedding. In the bathroom, I pulled down our wet underpants, rinsing them in
the sink. Then I helped Jason into the shower, where I quickly got us
clean. After we were dry, I walked him back to my room where my dad had
just finished putting on new bedding, and said goodnight. Dr. Bisset and I
helped Jason into fresh underwear, then I pulled on some of my own. She and
Jason talked for a long time about his nightmare, and eventually, he was
ready to go back to sleep. We helped him under the covers, then she kissed
us both goodnight.

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

I wasn't planning on surfing while Jason was in my care, so I set the alarm
for later in the morning. Thankfully, I woke up in a dry bed. I hit the
bathroom to pee, then quietly woke up my 10-year-old brother, who was
curled around Sean.

"Hey sleepy head, time to get up," I whispered. As he slowly climbed up,
the skinny little boy smiled up at me, then grabbed my hand to shove down
the front of his plastic pants. He was bone dry, and that made almost a
week without bed wetting. I grinned. "I guess you don't need a shower this
morning."

He lay on the floor so I could unpin him, and when he stood up, I whispered
in his ear, "I'm so happy you had another dry night, Chris. But let's keep
the celebration between you and me, for now. Jason had a terrible dream
last night, and had an accident."

Chris' eyes went wide, but he somberly promised. I left him to wake up
Sean.

Just as I got back to my room, Dr. Bisset appeared, again in her
nightgown. Whispering, she asked how Jason slept the rest of the night, and
told me not to wake him up. He needed time to heal. I agreed, and crept in
to get dressed for school.

I took Dr. Bisset's absence excuse to the principle, and spent the rest of
the day unable to focus. Too worried about my boyfriend, I couldn't
concentrate.

Finally the school day ended, and I biked home. Dr. Bisset had taken the
day off, and was reading in a chair when I entered my room. Jason was
asleep, and I saw my bedding had been changed again.

We went into the hallway to talk, and Dr. Bisset told me Jason would need
time to heal emotionally, as well as physically. He'd slept most of the
day, and lost control of his bladder again. Dr. Bisset found Chris'
diapers, and after cleaning her son, swaddled him up, before putting him
back to bed.

Lori got home a little while later, and volunteered to keep an eye on Jason
while doing her homework. Dr. Bisset readily agreed, and asked me to come
with her on an errand.

As we drove to her house, she told me that her estranged husband, Stu, was
a violent man. Until she could get a restraining order, Jason would be
safer at our house.

"That man is unstable. And he really can't stand the idea of having a gay
son."

At first, I didn't know what to say. Jason had tried so hard to keep his
sexuality a secret. But finally I said, "It was probably a horrible way for
you to find out."

She smiled and lightly laughed. "I've known for a very long time. Maybe
forever. I'm his mother."

She continued, "A mother only wants her children to be happy and safe. And
you've made him very happy." She reached over and petted my hand. "I
couldn't imagine a better boyfriend for my son."

My jaw dropped, and all I could do was quietly ask, "How long have you
known about us?"

"From the moment I saw you two together."

As we turned onto her street, Dr. Bisset asked me to curl down, in case Stu
was watching from some hidden spot. She didn't want to give him any idea
where her son might be. After the garage door closed behind us, I sat up,
and she said, "Since Jason will be away from home for a while, I need to
pack up a lot of his things. I'm pretty sure there are...things...he
wouldn't want me to see."

As we entered the house, she handed me a metal box and a lock with keys.

"Can you go into Jason's room and collect anything he might find
embarrassing, and lock them in this box?"

I nodded, and started down. Knowing exactly where he kept his porn, I went
into his dark room and lifted the secret shelf. After I gathered the pile
of gay boy and nudist magazines, clippings from Penthouse Letters, Jason's
personal photo prints and drwaings, and all of the hidden negatives, I
moved on to search his room. There wasn't much there, beyond the ropes and
lube we used, but I searched every inch anyway.

After locking the box, I gave Dr. Bisset the all-clear, and she brought in
two large suitcases. She folded and packed way more than Jason would need
for two weeks, and that's when Dr. Bisset gave me the bad news.

"Honey, it's not safe for Jason or Sean to be in San Diego while I finish
my divorce. When Jason's ready to travel, he and Sean will spend the rest
of the semester with my family in Minnesota."

I started tearing up, and my jaw quivered. She came over to hug me
tightly. "It'll be OK, Robin. It's only a little more than a month.

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

Jason's recovery was slow. After the first night, Dr. Bisset only gave him
aspirin for the pain. But his pediatrician prescribed a very mild sedative
to help him sleep. My parents and Dr. Bissett took turns taking days off to
watch over him for the next week.

In the morning, I'd get Chris up to join us in my room, and we helped Jason
onto a changing mat. Even if he'd had a dry night, Chris would flood his
diapers by the time I pulled him out of his plastic pants. I could tell
because it was hot pee. Asking him about it later, he said he just wanted
Jason not to feel alone. I hugged my brother tightly.

After they jumped into take quick showers. Chris would leave to get
dressed, while I'd cream and powder my 8th-grade boyfriend, and pin him
into fresh diapers. Usually, he was back asleep under the covers by the
time I furiously beat the raging boner straining out my flimsy little
European briefs.

Dr. Bissett and Sean stayed with us for about three days, then just came
over for dinner. They hired a sitter to stay with Jason while everyone was
out at work and school.

By then, he started to smile and joke with me. Quietly at night, we talked
about his night terrors. And after he took his sedative, I'd reach into his
diaper, and slowly jerk him off to sleep.

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

At school, word got out that Jason had been in a terrible bike accident. So
when he finally returned a week later, his swollen face and broken arm were
no surprise. But kids were still shocked to see the handsome tennis stud in
such sad shape.

Just in case Stu Bisset was lurking somewhere, my sister dropped Jason off
and picked him up in the service entrance. I biked both ways, and by the
time I got home, I'd join Lori and Jason to do homework at the kitchen
table.

I knew he was starting to come around when he slyly stroked inside my
thigh, while I tried to concentrate on algebra. When we were both giggling
suspiciously, Lori would lightly kick us under the table.

One evening as we gathered for dinner, Dr. Bisset called and said Sean and
she couldn't make it. A car had followed them around, and she was calling
from a gas station. My father urged her to go to the Sheriff's
station. Later, she called to say that when she pulled into the Sheriff's,
the car peeled away. Thankfully, my parents kept most of that information
away from Jason.

After I got Chris ready for bed, Jason and I peed and brushed our teeth,
Though his night terrors were diminishing, and he was no longer wetting the
bed, still diapered him for the night, just in case.

I kissed him gently on the lips, and helped him under the covers. He
winced, his ribs still breaking his breath, and his immobile arm recovering
slowly. When he was comfy, I turned off the lights and crept in beside him.

"I haven't made you come in more than a week," he whispered.

"Be quiet and take your medicine," I whispered back, and we
both giggled.

Being careful not to lean on Jason, I kissed him deeply, and slipped my
hand into his diaper. His thick 4-inches was throbbingly hard in my hand,
and I slowly stroked his length. Occasionally, I'd reach further, and
caress Jason's smooth, plum-sized bag. I loved the tight texture of his
adolescent fullness, and gently tickled both of the marbles on either side
of his scrotal ridge.

When Jason gasped, I'd make sure it wasn't because of his ribs, then I'd
begin stroking again, while gently kissing his soft, pillowy lips. His
tongue would meet mine, and pirouette with knowing love. Jason's hips would
start to rise and fall, as I stroked him into even greater
hardness. Pressing my palm down along his length, I'd rub with greater
ardor, and soon his hips slapped upward, craving the release only my
fingers could bring. His labored breathing built, and finally, as he
groaned, I'd feel Jason's hot magma sluice into my hungry hand. As we
rubbed together and I milked him dry, Jason's breathing slowed, and he
deflated in my hand.

Most nights the sedative kicked in, and he'd fall asleep, as I licked his
goo from my hand. But that night, his good hand slipped into my snug, slim
German briefs, and he wrapped a thumb and two fingers around me. Slowly, he
pulled along my 3 slim inches. I wanted to cum to so badly, I pressed back
against his fingers urgently. It was no night for teasing, and his fingers
increasingly rubbed harder, faster. As the friction built around my dick, I
pumped my hips up against his pillaging hand, and within moments, the hot
jetting fire burst drily out of my turgid love nozzle. For the first time
in 2 weeks, I was unconscious before Jason.

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

The second week was almost over, and I secretly cried every day that Jason
was soon going to leave. Still, it was only for a month or two, so I
reminded myself not to be a pussy.

Zach knew the plans, and we all met for one final afternoon, the Friday
before Jason's flight. My sister knew what we were up to when the three of
us quietly mustered in my room. Lightly, I kissed both boys on the lips,
then I slowly undressed Zach. Unzipping his jeans, I could feel his
hardness pressing outward. When his trousers dropped, Zach's snowy white
underpants were stretched with 4 inches of slender, pulsating pipe, and I
rubbed my face all over his eager adolescence. After pulling off Zach's
usual peasant shirt, we both turned to Jason. While Zach unzipped his boned
out jeans, I carefully maneuvered Jason's shirt around his broken arm.

Zach slowly pulled my t-shirt up and off, revealing my skin-stretched ribs
and hard little nipples. Dropping to his knees, Zach caressed my crotch
with his cheeks, then slowly unzipped my over-sized jeans so they might
drop to my ankles. My 13-year-old, under-developed hardness pulsed with my
heartbeat against the thin cotton of my little red underpants. You could
see the outline of my mushroom-shaped head, as it stretched the satiny
fabric.

Stepping out of my trousers, in just tube socks and briefs, I slid my hands
up each side of Jason's jaws, and he bent to kiss me full on the lips. As
our lips slid and caressed, and our tongues met to tango, Zach slid his
hands up and down the insides of both our thighs. When his fingers reached
our quaking bulges, we moaned into each others mouths, and pulled Zach up
so we could all swap kisses.

Our hands caressed each others cotton-cloaked buttocks, and the fleshy
poles pressing out through our undies. As our breathing heaved harder, I
motioned Zach to help me lower Jason onto my bed. We lay on either side of
my handsome, bruised lover, and reached within his briefs. Zach gripped him
somewhere along his root, and I gently massaged his full, straining,
hairless bag. He moaned, and slid his hands into our undies, to stroke us
as well.

I gently squeezed, while Zach stroked, and Jason jerked both of our little
rods. We kissed Jason up and down his bruised cheeks, and lightly bit his
nipples.

He groaned louder, and his hips pressed up against our agitating
hands. Fighting fire with fire, he stroked us harder, and we moaned into
his hair-draped ears.

With mounting fury, we humped against each others' hands, while pulling in
loving counterpoint. The friction built, and soon Zach squealed in
different octaves, and came within his briefs. Seconds later Jason gasped,
and I felt the fulsome jets of his turgid pipe fill his undies, coating
both Zach's and my hands. Recovering his breath, Jason pumped my little
prong more furiously, and I soon came dry, explosively, and choking back a
scream, fell into darkness.

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

Zach stayed over, so we all could see Jason and Sean off at Lindbergh
Field. Back then, as long as you went through a metal detector, you could
wait with passengers at the gate until loading time. So Jason and Sean had
a small crowd gathered when they departed. Dr. Bisset was in tears, as she
hugged and kissed her boys. Jason and I tried to squeeze the life out of
each other, and kissed each other's cheeks. The boys looked sad as they
entered the gate.

And then they were gone.