Date: Tue, 08 Oct 2019 14:10:27 +0000 From: i2qph9+2ez5mkvkwqvuk@guerrillamail.com Subject: Robin's Adventures | Part 35 | Robin's Adventures | Part 35 | "Empty House Afternoon" | By K. Gespenst. Our sweat pants clumped around our ankles, and I was leaning against a scrub oak in the warm afternoon air. Mark and I had our hands in each other's black team Speedos, gripping each other with most of our fingers. Our fists flew, with reckless need, and the only sounds in that shadowy narrow canyon were the rustling of coastal sage in the breeze, our panting breathing, and the stretching pull of lycra. We'd found a residential side street, looking for any hidden place where we could unleash our passions in privacy. After we'd hidden our bikes under scrub, that dark stretch of coyote-and-rattlesnake shelter would have to do. We'd been so needful for each other's kisses and caresses, we'd almost used the rec center lavatory. It'd been another two-week stretch since we'd been able to hang out privately. Our homework loads were really big, and we both had swim practice and/or ballet practice after school, and Mark also had Judo a couple of days a week. So when my 8th grade boyfriend and I both finally had a free weekend, it was his turn to host me for a sleep over. But first, we had Saturday swim practice. Our team wouldn't have a meet for a couple of weeks, which meant those of us on the dive team could work on our our sets. But that also meant more time for the coach to make us swim laps, to warm up and "cool down," after the lap racers left the pool. Mark and I were some of the last, and when I finished I hung by my arms from the side to catch my breath. Mark crossed lanes to join me. While he held onto the pool with one arm, the fingers on his other hand slid across my ass cheeks. I giggled as he lightly caressed my skin-tight swim briefs, tickling the bottom of my buns. Then I gasped as one of his fingers goosed me, caressing the very back of water-shrunken scrotum. "Stop!" I hissed, through a wide smile. My dick was growing, pressing forward like a submarine into a net. I reached down, my hand sliding to his slender, sinewy torso, past his belly, to the front of his Speedo, which was also filling with hardening boyhood. I barely traced the underside of his pulsating knob when we heard the coach yelling. "Sanford! Kessler! Outta the pool!" He was across on the other side, but his voice carried like a megaphone. "Adult swim starts in 2 minutes." In the 70s, the rec center didn't have a public address system, so it was all yelling, buzzers and whistles. We quickly climbed out, doubled over trying to hide our conditions. Watching Mark's ass move quickly didn't help me soften. It was like seeing two grapefruits rub up and down inside a tight, rubbery triangle. "We can shower at my place," he whispered pointedly at me, then bit his lip with a sexy half smile. His straight, wet black hair clung down his neck, almost to his collar, and I wanted to kiss and count every single one of the few freckles adorning his cute, girlish nose. I thought I was fast pulling sweats on over my Speedo, but Mark was dressed and at my locker before I could finish tying my sneakers. I grabbed my backpack and followed Mark out, passing loads of older adult men suiting up. When we stopped at the lavatory for a quick wee, Mark motioned with his jaw to an empty stall. Fucking tease. I grinned and shook my head. "You are evil," I snickered. Mark smiled and pulled a very convincing angel face. It wasn't hard with him. He was so pretty, he could have been a seraphim. As we unlocked our bikes, we whispered about what we wanted to do to one another in his shower. But we couldn't make it that far. Two pubescent boys with their blood pumping from their bicycle pedaling legs directly into their bike-seat massaged sperm factories had no hope of biking more than a quarter mile. "Over there, Robin." Mark pointed at a thick clump of scrub oak and shrubs, and that's how we found ourselves in the sage-fragrant hollow. We'd traded tender kisses, which grew more passionate and hungry. We bit and licked each others lips, gasping for breath, and running our fingers inside each other's sweat shirts. We hugged and rubbed each other hard. "I've missed this so much," Mark quietly heaved in my ear, then kissed and nibbled my lobe. I reached between us to untie his draw string, stretching open his elastic waist to let his pants fall. Then he stripped me of mine. Pushing me against the coastal oak, Mark pressed his lycra-strangled hardness against mine. Our throbbing young pricks rubbed and pressed through thin damp layers of tightly-clinging Speedo, and I groaned as our hips thrust into one another, building the friction I craved. Then, Mark's hand slid into my Speedo's waistband, clutching my cock from the top side with his palm, to press me into him. I mirrored his motion, clasping him inside his sweetly stretching swim briefs. We rubbed harder, and faster. "Uhhh...huuuh...yesss, Robin!" Mark sighed "I love so much, dude!" "I...luuh...uuuu...v YOU!" I bellowed into his ear. His dick was drooling, and I used his pre-cum to lubricate a full grip around his throbbing four inches, from the hairless young base to his 13-year-old, circumcised head. And as he shook and shuddered, I squeezed and stroked him harder. He was leaning into me, but pulled his hips back just far enough to re-grip me, as well. And then we were both pounding each other furiously, our hips grinding unconsciously, as our lips met and our tongues fought. I was holding my breath, seeing stars, when Mark quietly commanded me to "remember to breath, Robin!" My hairless sack tightened in my 14-year-old thigh arch, and I felt the itchy fire build. It was unstoppable, and I whined through gritting teeth as I felt my pubescent detonation. What few drops I had to fire burst out in the first pulse. And I as I grew dizzy and saw stars, I heard Mark gasping, "Gonna...cum...now, dude!" I felt the jets spew through my fist, and I tried to pull him harder, but was lost in my own orgasmic tornado. Both of us trembled, as our pulsations slowly ceased. Then we hugged into one another, sighing and heaving. Most of Mark's thin, watery semen had been caught in his speedos but it was leaking through. We needed to spend some time using our socks to clean up before we headed for his home. ========================== When we got to Mark's place, there was a wet spot showing through his sweat pants. As his "step-mom" greeted us, Mark rushed past to the bathroom, "Dibs on the shower!" he called back. I sat down in the kitchen, chatting with Francine. She wasn't really Mark's step-mom. She was Paul's girlfriend, and had moved in with Mark's dad a year before. Both Paul and Francine were really cool. "Just making you guys sandwiches before we hit the trail." She and Paul were going sailing with one of his firm's partners. Also, Mark's little sister was away with her girl scout troop for the weekend. "We won't be back until 8." She looked up briefly from slicing cheese with a slight smirk. "So you guys will have the place to yourselves." Then she winked and grinned. I must have gone beet red, because she went back to sandwich-making. Mark's folks were happy about our relationship, but adults could make things so awkward. Thankfully, Paul came in to say hello, and we talked about sailing, something I didn't know much about. Neither did he. "Shower's free," Mark announced, as he strolled in with an oversized Padres baseball shirt draped half-down his slender, solid thighs. Like me, Mark wore very little at home, and I felt my dick twitch as I thought about what his shirt tails hid. Before I could stare too long, I got up to shower. When I got back, the adults were gone, and Mark was waiting for me with lunch ready. Following his lead, I was dressed in an over-sized Zurich FA football jersey, which hung below my undies. "They left us money for dinner," Mark said, as we quickly wolfed down a small pile of food. Parents are always worried about "scrawny" boys eating enough. We cleaned up, then pulled out our books to do homework. It was getting really warm, and we both unbuttoned our shirts. Glancing at the vertical gap, open like stage curtains, I smiled at the site of Mark's slim abs, his waist bisected by his underpants. Quickly banishing the thought of slipping my fingers inside his snug briefs, I focused on work. It was too nice a day. I suggested we work outside, and Mark readily agreed. As we got to the back yard with towels, we both stripped off our team shirts, catch rays in our briefs. Laying belly-down, side-by-side on flattened deck chairs, I tried to concentrate on my Spanish paper, but it was too easy. Having lived until 12 in Switzerland, I was already native in French and German, and fluent in Italian. So learning another Romance language was dull. And I was distracted by the other kind of romance. I gazed at Mark's lithe figure, as he leaned on his elbows, hunkered over math. My eyes swept down his curved young back, to where it met the red-striped elastic of his underpants. His dazzlingly white briefs stretched tightly across his firm, round globes. His long, lean legs were divided from his solid butt cheeks by tightly gripping leg seams, and I imagined sliding my fingers underneath. Absently, I pumped my rigid member into the cushion beneath me. Mark finally noticed me staring, and smiled. "Is something the matter?" he asked, with mock innocence, batting his eyelashes. Recovering, I smiled, and said, "Oh, just worried you might get a sunburn." Mark giggled. "Well, you could do something about it. Maybe put some sun tan lotion on me?" As I got up to get it, I readjusted my tent to run up the center of the sheer little bikini briefs my mother mail-ordered from Germany. Mark grinned. "Better start with my legs," he said in a low voice. I did, slowly kneading in the Sea & Ski into the back of his calves, massaging into his tough, lean muscles. Mark put away his math, closing his eyes and laying down his head, as I reached his thighs, fingers digging deeply into his slender sinews. I polished sunscreen just slightly under the seal of his leg elastics, and he shivered. Climbing over Mark, I straddled his ass on my knees, resting my butt on his. Squirting a lot more lotion, I I massaged his lower back slowly and deeply, making him moan. As I worked my way up his slim muscles, my hardness drummed against his bottom. My cotton clad hardness nuzzled in between his resistant buns, as if born to be there. I lay down fully against his back, to trace my fingers up and down the outside of the arms he folded under his head. "Mmmm. I love when you hold me, Robin," he murmured, pushing his ass up into me. Then he spread his legs, allowing mine to drop between. I kissed his lotion-fragrant shoulders, and slowly thrust against him. My rigidly engorged boyhood, crushed within my tight little briefs, slowly plowed the cotton-cloaked crevice pushing back to meet me. Bending his legs, Mark pushed my cheeks with his heels. "Hump my butt, Robin," he whispered. "Hump me, dude!" I thrust against him harder. Our underpants gripped us both so hard, the fibrous friction brought my tender, 3.5 inch tumescence to the brink. "I can't...I can't...uhhh maaaan!" I gasped. I didn't want to cum, but I couldn't hold it. Mark knew my climax approached, and pressed his globes up to meet every thrust. "Cum for me, dude," he whispered, urging me on. And then it happened. My hips pistoned into him as hard as I could, my dick trying in vain to rip through both pairs of briefs. My teeth and eyes clenched shut, and stars exploded, more bright than the after image of the sun. My little marbles, in their walnut sack, squeezed into me, and my cock fired a dribble into my undies, as I collapsed into darkness. 20 minutes later - according to Mark - I emerged from my blackout, still lying on my boyfriend. He quietly chuckled. "You forgot to breath, idiot." I sighed. Then I slowly got up, to pull Mark to his feet. Though I was a year older, I came from a family of late-bloomers, and we were the same size. I leaned in to kiss the very pretty boy. I felt so lucky to have such a sweet, smart, gorgeous guy in my life. As we kissed, I slid my hand down to the front of his soft, thick briefs. I gently squeezed the lump growing harder up the center panel. "Do you want me to rub lotion on your front side, now?" He smiled and shook his head. "I don't want your back to get burned. Lie down so I can do you." As I turned to do so, I heard a quick inhale of surprise. "What?" I asked. "Uh, you're pretty pink, dude." But he guided me down, anyway. Mark was very gentle, carefully rubbing cool lotion all the way up my legs, pausing briefly to slide some under the tight elastics under my buns. Then he sat on my ass to care for my back and shoulders. I winced once or twice, knowing I'd probably be peeling in a day. But I adored Mark's hands on me, gliding, sliding and slicking gooey unguent into me. His brief-strangled hardness beat against my bottom when he rested his nipples against my warm back. I pressed my butt up into his tumescence, as he'd done to me. His diamond hardness slowly ground in between the upper reaches of my buns. "You missed a spot with the lotion," I whispered, and giggled. It took him a second a second to catch my meaning. Then he giggled too. "Oh, I'm sorry. Let me make it up for you." Mark stood, and using both hands, pulled my briefs down. I raised my hips to help, and Mark slid them all the way off. Then I got up on my hands and knees, spreading my legs for him to kneel in between. Mark slathered a handful of cream on my slim little butt. "Your ass is SO white," Mark said, laughing. I wiggled my buns at him and he swatted one of my cheeks. I squealed in surprise, and Mark laughed. "Maybe it needs to be a little pinker." And with that, he lightly swatted my other cheek. It wasn't hard, and for some reason, I kind of liked it. So did Mark, because he kept gently slapping each of my butt cheeks slowly, methodically. His spanking started to sting, and Mark slow-roasted my bottom, my dick engorged, achingly hard. Mark reached between my thighs with a lotion-lubed hand, clasping my hardness with a couple of fingers, and stroked me with every spank. The tender pain, and the loving pleasure had me moaning. "You like this, don't you?" Mark whispered. I could only nod. "Maybe I'll have to spank you like a little boy tonight." After making me bright pink on the outside, he used more lotion in between my cheeks. His lubricated fingers slid up and down my channel, from the top of the valley to my tight little purse. My dick was quickly responding. Then Mark worked a finger into me. I gasped, as he finger banged me slowly, gently, then working in a second finger. "I need your dick inside me, Mark," I whispered loudly. "Fuck me hard!" I looked back and saw Mark pulling down the front of his bone-white briefs, then his hands were busy with lotion, and he tossed the bottle onto the grass. His hard mushroom cap pressed against my tight little ring. When it popped through, I grunted, and he waited for me to relax. I'd been trying to loosen myself up with the small dildo a cousin gave me in Germany, but this was always painful. Frankly, I preferred to top most of the time, and Mark was happy with that. But we liked to trade off every so often. "Go ahead," I said quietly. His thick cock pressed into me, stretching my little boy hole until his head pressed into my special place, while his bald pubis leaned into my tender buns. It hurt, but I felt so full of love. And also cock. My ass was sore and burning, but still I clenched my bowels around him, as he done previously to me. I winced from the pain, but as I squeezed his dick, he groaned. "Oh that feels so good, Robin! You're so warm and tight." Mark shivered against me, holding me by the hips with both hands, then pulled back, almost out of me. I pressed back with my buttocks, and Mark slowly thrust into me. Gradually, he built up speed, plowing my searing ass. The breezy San Diego air filled with my grunts and his moans, and the sounds of hips slapping ass flesh. One of Mark's hands slid around my hip, to clasp my turgid pole backwards, with a thumb running long the top, and a couple of fingers along the bottom. I pumped into his hand, my knob hitting his palm, then thrust back to stroke his penis with my love hole. Mark's moaning grew louder, and higher, and he pumped faster, while milking me in time. I could hear it in his squealing pants, and then he leaned down to hug me to his chest. He groaned so loudly I'm sure neighbors could hear. But I didn't care, and neither did he. An eruption of hot boy lava. His 13-year-old penis pounding in my ass. His teeth clamped onto my shoulder while he whimpered, thrusting harder, deeper for 2 or 3 more thrusts, then he slowed to a stop, resting on my back. I felt a small trickle of cum run from my asshole, toward my balls. I let him slowly soften in my cummy love canal, until he finally slid out. Eventually, Mark rolled me over to kiss me full on the lips, and I felt more of his boy milk running out of my ass. Thankfully, we were on a towel. As he lay on me, and felt my erection digging into his soft wet dick, Mark made a fake pouty face. "Oh. I left you with a boner." Getting to his knees, he leaned down to purse his lips around my mushroom crown. Sealing his lips with tight suction, he tickled the underside with his tongue. At the same time, he stroked me with a thumb and a forefinger, and within moments, I lost myself into his mouth. ========================================= We finally got our homework done, and showered for the second time that day. While soaping and scrubbing each other, and washing each other's hair, our sore dicks took a rest. For once. We threw on fresh briefs and our team shirts, as the sun was starting to set. His folks left us $20 for pizza, or to go out for tacos. It was a lot of money in the 70s. We decided to hit a movie instead, dining on hot dogs and pop corn during the show. There were no multiplexes back then, and our beach town had one theater. It was a huge, old-school, Art Deco affair, showing 1 or 2 different movies a week. That night, the early movie was "Logan's Run," a recently-released sci fi film. Though we'd both seen it, we loved it, and could watch it again and again. There weren't many people at the 6:00 PM show, and we had the three back rows to ourselves, Setting out our feast, we happily munched and watched the previews for upcoming shows. Unlike today, there was only about 10 minutes of junk before "Logan's Run" started. I'd finished my dog, and reached down for my Pepsi. That's another thing about the 70s - no cup holders everywhere. As I bent down, I glanced sideways at Mark. Like me, he wore OP corduroy shorts. The hemline fell just a couple of inches below the crotch back then, and as his legs were spread, his white underwear reflected movie light like a street lamp. As I sat back up, Mark saw where my eyes lead, and smiled mischievously, spreading his knees wider. I did the same, and he glanced down to check me out. We both giggled. I knew the story by heart, and mouthed lines by memory. And as I did, my fingers fell lightly onto Mark's hairless thigh. So smooth, like soft, warm glass. As we slid further down into our chairs, our shorts pulled higher, and the leg elastics of our undies emerged under the hemlines. Mark's hand fell to my thigh as well, and we spent the first third of the movie trying to ignore each other's absent-minded teasings. Our fingertips drew nearer and nearer to out groins. My hardness was trying to rip a hole through my underpants by the time Mark's fingertips finally touched the cotton basket holding my small sack, and I inhaled sharply. I slid my index fingertip across the white sphere gripping Mark's scrotum so tightly, and drew small circles around his soft, warm hemisphere. Then I slid my other fingers within his leg hole, to cup his underwear-encased nuts. Humid warmth filled my fingers, and my head lowered onto his shoulders. My straight, light blond hair mixed with his straight black hair, falling down Mark's neck. Some time after the scene with Box, but before Logan returns to the city, we kissed openly in the theater. It was bold and kind of reckless, but nobody was looking, as our tongues met to twine. Mark's fingers gripped me through my gauzy little bikini briefs, and he squeezed my hardness tightly. I rubbed my palm up and down the soft, pre-cum dampened cotton stretched across his rhythmically pulsating love gun, and he pushed his hips upward. It was warm and hard and soft and moist, and it's the one thing I'd like to feel in my hand forever. With quick intermittent kisses, our wrists flurried up our shorts, rubbing each other through our briefs. Somewhere after Logan's return to The City, and the credits, my dick found no sanctuary. Mark's thumb and forefinger fluted around my cotton-clad crown, and I clamped hard onto his surging hardness through its soft cotton wrapper. I gritted my teeth, holding my breath to strangle back a pent-up scream. As suns erupted across my clenched eyelids, I fell into darkness. Most of the patrons were gone when I woke up. The colorful, woven Mexican hoodies surfers wore back then were pulled down, covering our loins. I expected he would have a wet patch there, but found later I'd milked him as dry as me that day. Mark was looking nonchalant, as I woke up. "The movie was that boring?" he deadpanned, as the last straggler left. I chuckled. We stood, briefly kissed, and left. Night had fallen as we left the brightly lit theater, and unlocked our bikes to ride home.