Date: Sun, 13 Oct 2019 22:52:09 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Robin's Adventures | Part 36 "The Masked Ball" | Ghosts, goblins, devils, monsters and super heroes were on the streets. Halloween fell on a Sunday, that year, and in many religious parts of the country, it was celebrated the night before. But in our north San Diego county beach town, it was trick-r-treating as usual, when the sun was setting. Having lived until 12 in Switzerland, I still thought it odd. Sure, there were some American and British expats that invited us to Halloween parties. But when we moved back to the U.S., I thought the whole begging-for-candy thing was ridiculous. Maybe if we had tight spandex suits like today I'd have felt differently. But reaching junior high, kids made a show of rejecting trick-r-treating, anyway. My little brother Chris was into it, though. My mother was a somewhat frugal German, and wanted to make his costumes, disdaining the "cheap junk" costume kits sold in the 70s. But he insisted on a "Jaws" costume, wearing the plastic shark mask nearly all week at home. While he was out with his pack of friends making the rounds, and my big sister Lori was at some high schooler party, Mark and I were helping my parents dish out candy. They were dressed as hobos, and wanted us in costume too. So Mark and I had hit a second-hand store in Oceanside, and found some really creepy old clown masks and a couple of wigs. Mark's was a bouffant, while mine was normal, long, brown hair, and we hit drenched both with red spray paint. We ripped an old flowered sheet my mom had in the rag heap in two, then tore head holes in each. They were huge, and we had to use belts and tie them toga style. But that also meant we didn't bother with shirts and trousers. We smeared the mask mouths with fake blood, then splashed more down the front sections. An old photo my dad took would give you nightmares. Mark and I borrowed a loop box from the A/V club at our school, and projected some strange scenes we'd shot in 8MM against the front of the house. Weird, disjointed imagery cut tous in horror costumes. When we'd shot witch scenes a few weeks before, Lori did our makeup, and we looked frightening on screen. But when we finished shooting in the garage, I couldn't help but take that 13-year-old into my 14-year-old arms. The discarded old lace we'd died black barely concealed his hardening nipples when our lips met. I felt his hardening cock press against mine. "Double, double, toil and trouble," I whispered into his ear, "Fire burn and penis bubble." He giggled. I'd helped him memorize parts of "The Scottish Play," as he insisted on calling it, for school. I grabbed him by the hand, and we ran upstairs to my room. I slammed the door and we both threw off our witch hats and kicked off our shoes. We could hear my parents in the backyard, and had to be quiet. As we stood kissing, our hands swept around to each other's back's. Our lipstick smeared as we nibbled each other's lips, and I can still remember the feeling of his firm, round buttocks as I squeezed them through lace. Our hard young poles throbbed against one another, desperate to meet through layers of home-made dresses. I pulled up the front of Mark's frock with one hand, while reaching under with the other. His thick pubescence pounded, stretching the silky panties he wore underneath. Lori had made them for Mark, with the excuse they were for "proper costuming." Much later, she admitted to me she knew we might be into some sissy play. And I was, wearing the other pair she'd made, glad she'd added some room in front for our junk. I cupped his balls with my finger tips, while pressing my palm against his 4 inches of desire. Dampness filtered through the thin, slippery material, and Mark moaned into my mouth, as I I stroked him with the flat of my hand. He reached under my hem, and clasped me with a thumb and two fingers, stroking me delicately along my satin-strangled, pulsating length. Our tongues tapped and tangoed, and we were panting, teasing each other mercilessly. Then Mark pulled away. Hunger shone out of his liquid eyes, accentuated with black makeup. I couldn't get over the freckles dusting his cute little girlish nose. And I almost melted as he bit his lip with a mischievous little smirk, his soft features framed in collar-length jet-black hair matching his dress. Maybe this was when I first found my interest in goth boys, though the term was years away. "I need you in my ass," he whispered. "Fuck me, Robin. Fuck my tight hole." He'd started to talk dirty to me, and though neither of us had much of a vocabulary, I liked it. He knew it, and tickled my cloth-bound mushroom crown, still dry of pre-cum. Like all boys in my mom's family, I was a late bloomer, but had started to ejaculate a little, and couldn't wait to plant my seed in Mark's tight little tunnel. Before I could help him out of his dress, Mark had crawled onto my bed. Pulling the hem up over his butt, he slapped one of his pantied cheeks, and grinned back at me. "Come on, Robin," he whispered loudly, "stuff your meat in me." I took one look at those slender, taut buns, only partially concealed by his sleek panties, and I whipped my dress off in a flash. Striding to my dresser in clashing black panties and white tube socks, I grabbed the bottle of lube my cousin had given me in Munich. There wasn't much left, and we'd have to find more. Mark spread his knees, and I kneeled in between, pressing my groin into his cute, solid buns. "Is that what you want?" I whispered, slowly thrusting my turgid wand between his cheeks. "Yes," he sighed. "Fuck me with that big cock." "Big," I almost laughed. I was a little more than 3.5 slender inches. But I knew I'd grow bigger when I finally hit puberty. I pulled down the back of Mark's panties, then lubed up the fingers of one hand. Carefully, I worked a finger into his cinched, muscle ring. At the same time, I reached around to the front of his panties, slowly running my index finger up and down the palpitating hardness stretching his girlish underpants. After I'd worked two digits in, and loosened Mark with long moments of finger fucking, he begged me to use my dick. I pulled down the front of my panties, hooking them under my smooth little walnut sack. After lubing love gun, I used my hand to aim my helmet against its nozzle against his opening, and slowly pressed in. When I popped through, Mark inhaled quickly, and sighed quietly. "Yes. give it to me, Robin!" I used both hands to spread his cheeks, and slid my boy cock as deep as it could burrow, until my hairless mound was deep in his crevice. I shuddered as the warm, wet heat gripped me. Slowly I pulled back until I was almost out, then slid back into Mark's oven. He groaned, and I thrust again and again. My hips rocked gradually faster, until the room filled with the sound of hips slapping buttocks. "Fuck me hard, Robin!" he whispered urgently, and I held him by his lean hips, plowing him faster. He flexed his bowels to grip me, making me gasp. My girl-boy was grinding back to meet my every thrust, fucking me with his tight little ass. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" he gasped. I felt my balls clenching into me. It wouldn't be long. "I'm gonna..." I heaved. Mark used a hand to push my hips away. "Not yet," he whispered, and rolled me onto my back. Then he stood up and quickly pulled off his lacy black dress. Slender and toned from years of ballet and swimming, he was gorgeous to behold in panties mercilessly compressing his throbbing cock. He grinned and bent to pull off his undies, and knelt on either side of my torso. I smiled as he spread his cheeks, and slowly lowered himself. I held my rigid boyhood in position, guiding my imminent submersion in his hot, moist boy hole. It took a couple of tries, but eventually, I glided into his hungry anus. As he sat all the way onto my groin, the waistband of my panties cinched against my perineum, cinching against my tight little balls. A thin, clear line of pre-cum descended from his piss-hole to my tummy. Thickly pulsating from his still-hairless groin, Mark's four inches fluttered with Mark's increasing heart beat. I wrapped him in my fist, and used his pre-cum as lube, to rub circles on the underside of his angry, circumcised head. "Oh dude, you feel so good in me!" "Man, your ass is so warm and tight!" If only I'd ever heard the term, "boy pussy," back then... Mark carefully rocked forward, then back, raising and lowering himself up and down my savage little length. Up and back, his warm hole pulled and pushed, his clenching bowels gripping my tumescence. And with every thrust, my panties climbed into my ass, and pulled up against more tightly my balls. "Fuck my dick with your hot little ass," I urged him, stroking him fully. "Gonna cum soon!" he whispered. "Me too!" Those panties were pulling like hot wire against my tender little nuts, and my sack squeezed tightly into my groin. Suddenly, Mark groaned, and I felt his anus clamped me like a vice. A hot jet of thin, watery sponge splashed across my face and chest. I opened my mouth, and caught a bit of his second, thinner blast. As his third dribbled onto my tummy, itchy, white heat billowed out of from behind my nuts, where my panties dug and massaged into me. I was holding my breath, and choking a scream as a wave detonated out, washing me in light. As suns exploded behind my sealed eyelids, I fell into night. ================================================= None of that made it into our film, which was composed of unrelated, spooky imagery. Using a Moviola at school, every shot where you could make out our tube socks hit the editing room floor, though Mark printed out a still shot where our panties were visible in our translucent lace. In a couple of weeks, we'd take a few photos of us in underwear and panties, printing them at school, so we'd have something to beat off to when we weren't together. Later, we shot some nudes, and sex scenes. But on halloween, our imagery was all clean, flickering creepily against the house. When my parents answered the door, kids would happily grab from the candy bowls, and as they were saying "thank you," Mark and I would lurch out of the shadows toward them. We'd all chuckle as they screamed, running away. One little kid tripped and fell, and I ran over to help him up. At first he screamed as I stood over him. Then he started laughing as I pulled him up. "I could see your underwear, clown." A couple of my parents' friends came arrived, without costumes. After complimenting Mark and me on our creepiness, they made cocktails and joined my folks on the front. It started to get busy, with a continuous line of kids. Mark and I were over in the shadows, ready to lurch out when the time was right. I was leaning against the side of the house, and Mark leaned into my chest. My arms wrapped around him. Fog was rolling in, and he was so warm. I slid one of my hands down his side, pulling up the back of his sheet to caress the back of his smooth, slender thigh. His sigh echoed weirdly in his clown mask, and I giggled. "What?" came his muffled voice. "You just sound funny with that thing on," I replied. "But you feel seriously nice." He pressed his ass backward against my groin. My dick started to fill, and I reached up and around, to the front of his soft cotton briefs. A lump was hardening against my palm, and I gently pressed as Mark's dick quickly engorged. Absently, I ground my hardness into his bottom, losing myself in pillowy firmness. I moaned quietly, and Mark quietly laughed at the sound I made. Mark's erection stretched up his tight underpants, and I fluted fingertips up and down his length. At the top, I rubbed around the underside of his pulsating crown, which started dampening. At the bottom, I caressed his sperm-swelling nuts through their thick woven basket. I loved the damp heat, and longed to pillage his ass with my dick, which was raging against my snug little bikini briefs. As I slowly humped into Mark, and teased his quivering boyhood, my finger tips occasionally strayed, running inside the leg elastics under his smooth young scrotum. Then I'd drag my finger along the outside to his slim, muscular ass cheeks. "You're...really...making things hard here," he whispered. We both giggled at his lame pun, but I had an idea, and I lead Mark over to one of the shrubs. It was chest high, and in full view of the yard and porch. When no one was looking, I knelt in the shrub, pulled off my clown mask and slid my head and shoulders under Mark's ghost sheet. I couldn't see much in the pale light filtering through, but his bleached briefs were so white I found my landing zone. I rested my face against his pulsing hardness, moistening my cheek with cotton-sieved pre-cum. Oh how I loved the feeling of his warm boyhood against my face, and I gently nuzzled him with my lips. Dragging my tongue along his straining pole, up and back for several laps, I soaked the front of his airtight undies. He was loudly groaning when I slid my fingers into his leg seams, up to his taught elastic waistband, and slid the front down, to bunch under his nuts. Holding his diamond hardness by the stalk, I brought my tongue tip to one of his testicles, and drew an arabesque around the smooth, hairless hemisphere. Like me, he was not very wrinkly. After teasing one ball, I moved to the other. His thigh muscles flexed, he shivered, and moaned loudly. I pulled away to shush him, but he leaned down and whispered, "Don't worry! They think I'm scary." Certainly he was scaring the fuck out of me. But I learned later that his heaving and bellowing, arm shaking and undulating looked like a convincing mad clown act. I flicked my tongue around and across his oozing knob, trying to work it into his pee-slit, which really made him squeal. I heard some frightened gasps coming from our front lawn, and nibbled his length with my pursed lips. He was so hard in my fingertips, and I brought my other hand between his thighs, to cup his nuts and a wad of underpants. I gently squeezed and massaged his pubescent sack, savoring the salty-sweet syrup it pumped through his spout. I rubbed a finger back and forth along his cloth-cloaked perineum, while clamping my lips around his sweet and salty head. As my lips sealed under the ridge of his glans, I twirled my tongue around his spongey prong, and squeezed his nuts tighter. He groaned loudly, and almost jumped. Loosening my lips, I let slid my mouth all the way to Mark's hairless base, relishing in the feint smell of pungent boy crotch. His thickness filled my mouth, and his head hit the back of my throat. I'd been practicing, and no longer gagged when he entered my throat. Then I used my secret weapon, and quietly hummed. This time, it was Bach's Clavier-Übung III, Mark was my pipe organ, and his high-pitched howling drew frightened reactions from kids on our lawn. Mark's pre-goo trickled down my throat when I slid my mouth back, and swallowed. Washing his underside with my tongue, I used my mouth cheeks to buff his sides. Repositioning my hand, I slide fingers into his underpants to cup his bag with my palm, while sliding a finger up between his firm, sweaty buns. As I bobbed my head forward and back, I used Mark's musky ass moisture to lubricate my finger, and worked it slowly into his tightly clenching hole. Firmly holding his balls with my palm, I gently fingered him, and worked my mouth ferociously on his thrumming hardness. Skewering him fully, I sucked him until the shrub around me shook like an earthquake from his grip. His high-pitched scream, weirdly echoing in his mask, terrified trick'r'treaters down the block, and his thin, delicious effluent filled my mouth. Marks' hips pumped in time with the joy juice jetting from his young boy pole. As my finger was released from his hot, wet anus, his cock softened in my mouth. At the same time, I heard laughter from the porch. A moment later, Mark's dad's voice was right behind me, on the other side of the bush. "Good work, son! You're gonna be a great actor," Paul said told Mark. "I can see why Robin doesn't want to be upstaged." Mark chuckled. "He's takin' a dump, dad." "Yeah, OK," his dad said. "When you get tired of this, just come inside." "No problemo, dad." Planning to sneak up to my room to bone Mark furiously while the grownups ate snacks and sipped cocktails, I was rock hard for the last 30 minutes we played scary clowns. It was getting really chilly with the fog by then, and the street seemed to empty of any more trick-r-treaters. Just as I whispered my plan into Mark's ear, my dad called us over to shut everything down and come inside. As we packed up the projector and put away deck chairs, Chris and his pals Trevor and Pablo showed up. By the time we got inside, the younger boys were trading candy in the den while the grownups were chatting and laughing in the kitchen. But just before we could slip upstairs, my mom called us in to the kitchen, insisting we eat dinner. She heated something up, just as Trevor's mom arrived to drive her son and Pablo home to their families. We scrambled through dinner and left Chris by himself. "We wanna get changed," I announced, as we put out plates in the sink. I promised to wash them later. Mark and I flew out, and I could swear I heard Paul chuckle. Mark ran ahead of me, pulling off his costume as he climbed the stairs. Watching his firm grapefruits rubbing up and down inside his snug, bone-white briefs had my dinner-softened semi growing to full hardness again. We tossed our frocks on the floor and slammed the door. Our almost naked bodies entwined, and I felt his re-engorged boyhood press through our cloth restraints. My 3.5 inches threatened to tear a hole in my sheer, white bikini briefs, stabbing straight into his groin. I readjusted it to go upwards, then we hugged each other tighter, as our hard-ons pounded against one another. Combing his straight, longish black hair behind an ear, I quietly breathed "I need to cum so bad," before nibbling on his lobe. We pressed our slim chests together, while tracing our fingers around each others' backs, and across the bottoms of our undies. With both hands, I tenderly squeezed his cotton-wrapped buns, eager to plunge my myself into his tight little ass. Knock. Knock. Knock. We froze, then heard Paul's muffled voice. "We're leaving in 10 minutes, Mark." As I'd find out later from my parents, both my folks and his knew we'd been frantic to jump each other. "Shit!" I murmured in frustration. "We have a countdown," Mark whispered, gently pushing me back on the bed. Laying beside me, he slid his fingers down my torso, to the quivering front of my briefs. As our lips met, he teased me, running an index finger up and down my length. I moaned and rolled my side, reaching between his thighs to clasp his steamy nuts in their cotton casing. His rigid boyhood pressed against my wrist, and he sighed into my mouth. As our tongues met, Mark slid his fingers into my briefs, holding the top of my dick along his thumb, and running two fingers along the bottom. I groaned, as he gently squeezed. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes. "I love your hard, hot dick," he said quietly, "And I really love you." I could barely respond with a hoarse, "I love you more, Mark," when his lips met mine again. At the same time, he squeezed me harder, rubbing my stem hard and fast. We had a deadline and he milked me furiously. It felt violent and good, I could barely focus on getting into his underpants, but eventually my hand submerged into his thick cotton sea. Wrapping my fist upside down on his pounding penis, I tried to masturbate him in time with his animal stroking. But I couldn't, and I grew dizzy as I lost myself helplessly to his ferocious fingers. "Cum for me, dude. Give me your sperm!" Mark whispered as I grunted. Feeling my balls contracting, I wanted to scream as the my orgasm loomed. I grit my teeth, and strangled my moans deep in my belly when the itchy fire plumed out, and I barely registered Mark's lips sealed around my head. The white fire blazed across my clenched eyelids, and I fell into darkness. 10 minutes later, according to Mark, my boyfriend gently shook me awake. He was dressed in his shorts and colorful, woven Mexican hoody. "That was so amazing," I groggily said, as he pulled me to my feet. "Yeah, you're so hot," he replied. I pulled on a pair of Levis and an oversized Zurich FC jersey. "But about about you?" A hard lump was running up behind his zipper. I reached down to squeeze him. "I need to do you, now." He smiled and shrugged. "No time. I'll be dreaming of you when I beat off at home." I sighed in dismay and we both turned toward the door. Then Mark stopped short. "But if I could borrow your dildo, it'll be more realistic."