Date: Wed, 09 Jan 2019 17:21:29 +0000
From: gv2cfo+5taeoon5c595w@guerrillamail.com
Subject: Robin's Adventures ? Part 4 | Gay ? YF

Thinking back, my introduction to love and sex made for the most
mind-blowing month of my life. My best friend in 8th grade, Jason,
introduced me to making out and jerking off in a long day of crazy,
orgasmic lessons. Like any good student, I would be dedicating many long
and hard hours to my new craft. At least when I wasn't at school or
surfing. And since it was winter in San Diego, and the days were short, it
was more of the former than the latter.

Still, I'd bike down to Sunset Sea at 5 AM in my wetsuit, with my board on
a rack attached to the back. It was cold, dark, and usually foggy. But a
few of us 7th, 8th, and 9th graders were out catching glass for maybe an
hour before the high schoolers and Old Guys kicked us "rats" out for their
Dawn Patrol. It was fucking cold -- and fucking fun to work my way into the
best consistent (and locals-only) point break in the county.

Anyway, the days after Jason and I first sucked face and grappled with each
others' hard, young boners, it was a little difficult to concentrate. I
loved school, but even in my favorite classes, I'd look around at the other
boys, wondering what they looked like naked. Soon, I'd be rock hard, and
have to readjust myself though my pockets. Worse was P.E., because then I
would have to concentrate on not staring at those cocks and balls hidden or
exiting from jockstraps. I'd try not to guess how much hair my classmates
had, or if they were - like me - still bald as babies. One thing Jason was
right about was boxers. They hid everything, like drapes, and sort of made
guys look like the old men in sitcoms. But they were becoming hip with
surfers and wannabes.

Anyway, the first day or two after my big weekend, I raced through
showering, though my little friend always betrayed me, and by the time I'd
get to my locker I'd hear a few guys chanting "Sanford's got a boner."
Having been raised in Europe, I was used showering with other guys, and no
one thought it was a big deal when someone sported wood. But the teasing
here had a lot more cruel intention behind it. I started lingering until I
was one of the lasts out. Turns out, I never saw Jason in the showers
because his strategy was to be the first in and out of the showers.

I learned that while we ate lunch. We'd sit together every day in the big
open space between several of the buildings, and share our bagged meals
either sitting on the ground under a potted tree, or at a bench. I tried to
ignore the girls pointing and giggling at us, as we argued about comics,
music and sports. Even though we avoided directly talking about sex, we'd
both have to surreptitiously readjust before we stood up. And he'd always
whisper, "I can't wait 'til we can get together again." Unfortunately, he
had tennis and piano lessons after school, so I thought it would be forever
until I could hold his throbbing boyhood in my hand again.

By the time I got home, I'd be in the mood for some me time. Maybe not with
the same desperation I would a couple of years later, when hormones would
churn my semen into a froth that demanded clearing from my balls several
times a day. Still, before I got any homework done, I'd close my bedroom
door, kick off my shoes and pants, and lay back on my bed to pay tribute to
Little Caesar. Just thinking about beating off would have me sporting wood
before my hands were in my underpants, pulling and tickling my tight,
hairless scrotum with one hand, while slowly - then with greater urgency -
rubbing the length of my circumcised dick. For the first few days, I was so
overwhelmed by the heat and the tickling that I never needed to imagine
anything. Simply focusing on my fingers tickling and then rubbing my
pulsing cock drove me ever more crazy until I pulled the front of my tiny,
tight, sheer cotton briefs down to cling just below my little nut
pouch. Grabbing my 3 inches of throbbing rod with my thumb and first two
fingers, I'd furiously masturbate my pink stalk, from the pubic mound to
just below the angry pink head. Up and down I'd stroke faster and more
furiously, my ass cheeks involuntarily squeezing, and my pelvis thrusting
upward with every downstroke of my cock-hungry fingers.

My hard breathing morphing into desperate moans I could barely stifle, I'd
race toward that feeling I craved so badly. And with every stroke on my
steel-hardened boy cock, I'd feel an itch growing behind my tightening
little ball sack. The friction on my love tube merged with a new heat
building first in my balls, then spreading outward. My toes would clench,
and my eyes would squeeze tight, as my still pre-pubic genitals lurched and
spasmed and frantically tried to eject semen that didn't exist. And as that
white hot bone rage spread once, twice, three times, I'd grind my teeth and
hold my breath so I didn't scream.

Finally, after two or three more futile pulses, the electric storm would
diminish across my skinny torso. Only then would my lust storm dissipate,
and I'd slump back, spent, and catching my breath. As normal consciousness
returned, I'd pull my underpants back over my softening prick, and get up
to do my Social Studies or whatever. Afterward, I'd read or draw until
dinner.

My older sister must have mentioned something to my mom, because my parents
stopped walking in unannounced. So I'd hear a knock on my door from one of
them, or Lori, giving me a heads up to get ready. Since it was winter in
San Diego, nights could be chilly, and I'd throw on some sweatpants before
washing my hands and heading downstairs. But mostly, I cruised at home in a
t-shirt, briefs and socks. Same with my sister and little brother. My folks
were borderline hippies, and so our family was pretty casual about
clothing.

We were a close family, so dinner was always fun and hilarious. My parents
were medical researchers, and could be kind of focused on work. But they
put that aside during meals and family events. After dinner and dish
cleaning, I'd take my 9 (soon-to-be-10) -year-old brother upstairs to get
ready for bed. He'd brush his teeth, and because he was still wetting his
bed (with decreasing frequency, thank God), I'd put him in cloth diapers
and plastic pants.

Thing is, with my new found sexuality, as he lay in his t-shirt and socks
on the folded cotton cloth, and I would apply talcum, before pinning him
up, I'd become more and more mesmerized by his tiny truncheon. Unlike me,
he'd been born in Zurich, so he was not circumcised, and I was kind of
entranced by that quarter-inch of foreskin on his single inch of boy
pole. Before he started taking showers, I used to bath him (another
hand-me-down family chore), and tased to think nothing of gently retracting
that rubbery casing and delicately washing his very purple head. It's funny
how uncut cocks are so much colorful than cut cocks.

Anyway, I'd snap out of it, and talcum his groin, pin him up and we'd head
down stairs to watch an hour or so of TV with the folks before it was time
for Chris and me to go to bed. After kissing my family good night, I'd
brush my teeth, and climb into bed in my briefs and t-shirt. This became a
very special time for me. With everything quiet in the house, I would think
about Jason's hard body, and those lean, muscular legs, leading up to pert
butt cheeks with muscular indentations. Then I'd think of his gorgeous
face, and grey-green eyes staring into mine, while my hands slid down my
slender stomach, then back up to my hard, dime-sized nipples. I'd pinch
them and play with them, while my erection tried to grow beyond its 3 or so
inches. It quivered, while I'd rub circles around my chest and belly,
remember how Jason had done the same.

Soon, I'd pull my thin, tight, German briefs below my balls, and once again
stroke my little, undersized flesh pole, while cupping and rubbing my
little walnut-sized scrotum. Harder and faster I'd pull and rub, grinding
my genitals against my lecherous hands. Building, building, that inferno
grew in my balls, as they tightened, and I'd rub it in the place between my
bald, hot, sweaty little grapes and anus. Thankfully, it would come up the
length of my dick to its head. I would come, hard and dry; my pelvis
hammering upward against my fist. Milking my diamond hard love nozzle, I'd
hold my breath again so I didn't scream, as my prick erupted in light and
heat with desperate-yet-dry urgency to spew. Almost immediately, I'd fall
into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But not for long, at least from my point of view. My clock radio would
blast KGB's hit round up until I could stumble out of bed at 5 AM. Shedding
my underpants and t-shirt, I'd pull on my full wet-suit and footies, and
quietly tip-toe downstairs. I didn't want to wake anyone while I got my
bike and board, and would ride through the dark down to Sunset to get in an
hour of waves. I'd become accepted by Lars, Phil, MacMillan, and other guys
around my age, since I was a pretty good shredder by then. And I obeyed
basic etiquette. I never cut anyone off.

Biking back up that ridiculous hill, I'd get back home in time to rinse out
my suit and take a quick shower, then get Chris up. He was always inert and
grouchy, and I'd have to pull him out of bed, before pulling off his
plastic pants and diaper, and pushing him, stumbling, toward the bathroom
to shower.

None of us were morning people, and I'm surprised I could push myself to
hit the sets those days. So my family happily mumbled through breakfast
before we all hit our separate trails. Lori had gotten her license, and
drove to school in a Datsun, while Chris and I rode our bikes to our
respective schools.

Anyway, that's how my weeks going forward would usually unfold. But just a
couple of days after I'd finally kissed a boy, and learned how to massage
my meat, I figured Jason and I wouldn't get back together until the next
weekend. But I was wrong, thankfully.

Thursday. I remember it because we had musical assemblies before home room
on Thursdays. And the school orchestra's version of the M.A.S.H. theme will
always be weirdly associated with my first sex lunch. When the break rolled
around, Jason and I met at one of our usual places, but he didn't sit
down. With his head on a swivel, he whispered, "follow me."

I'd have followed him anywhere, 5 or 6 days into my first relationship. So
we moved out of the big court yard where most of the kids hung out, past 2
other lawns between single-story buildings. The open air nature of
California schools was so much better than the stuffy buildings in northern
climates. And, as I'd come to learn, easier to sneak out of.

By then, there was no one around, and we were at the edge of our junior
high campus. Taking one more careful look around, Jason says to me, "We
gotta be quick." And he darted into a little shadow in a huge
hedge. Following him in, I was hunched over into a sort of vegetation
tunnel. I didn't care, because I was looking at his glorious rump. It was
an ass made of two pieces of round granite, working against very tight
jeans. Within a couple of yards, we hit the chain-link fence surrounding
the school. A rain wash had eroded into a crawl space under the fence, and
I followed Jason under, into a thicket of hedges on someone's backyard
property.

Nestled in a branched cove in a fragrant juniper bush, Jason turned to me,
grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into a long-overdue kiss. Our lips
met, and then slightly opened, and our tongues gently touched. One of his
hands pulled me to him by my ass, while another traced the outline of my
ear. I stroked the outside of his face with the backside of one hand, while
grabbing the fine, muscular globe of one of his buns. We were both so
hard. Howlingly hard. It was painful. When our ravenous boy cocks met,
you'd have expected the sound of steel scimitars sword-fighting.

Our mouth wrestling grew in passion - maybe aggression.

One of his hand went between us, to the battleground where the little
Titans clashed, and grasped the turgid pole trying to rip its way out of my
pants. I moaned into his mouth, "nnnnnggggg!" My knees slightly buckled,
and I held on tight to his muscular mounds.

Gripping my pants-straining bulge, he slowly pulled up and down, and he
started kissing my ear. He knew that drove me fucking nuts. Nibbling on my
ear-lobe, then slowly licking inside my ear, he stroked my eager cock
slowly, letting fiber build into accumulated heat.

I was about to dry cream my jeans, and he knew it. He pulled back his hand,
and hugged me tightly, whispering through my long, blonde hair, "It's only
been a couple of days, and I've missed this so much!"

I sighed, kissed toward his ear through the long curtains of his light
brown hair, "Me too. Just keep holding me for a minute." And we stayed like
that, lightly rubbing each other's backs before Jase whispered, "We only
have 20 more minutes 'til lunch period is over."

Unbuckling each other's belts, then unzipping each other's pants, we were
both kind of shaky with anticipation. I opened his denim to reveal a
triangle of bright white cotton, with a blue and gold waistband. Straining
up and out against that thick restraint, the outline of his circumcised
head demanded attention, and I gently rubbed around the cotton-sheathed
glans.

Jason moaned, and put his entire hand in my pants to palm my pounding, 3
slender inches. Massaging gently, trying to make me last, his hot, hungry
hand poured more steel into cock.

We both pulled each other's pants down to our thighs for greater access,
and I cupped his textile trapped nuts, while tracing the the 5 inch length
of his much fatter penis, from the fly opening, to just below his tight
waistband. Back and forth, with growing pressure and speed, using all my
fingers I rubbed the front and sides of cock.

At the same time, with one hand he teased me even more, lightly feathering
the length of turgid little love stick, then lightly tickling my tiny
trapped ball bag. Round and round each of marble-sized eggs, his thumb and
forefinger brought their geometry against the sheer, tight fabric of small,
navy blue briefs. "Your undies are so hot," he whispered. His other hand
rubbed the inside of my slender thighs, first one and then the other, and
soon, my jeans dropped to my ankles.

Our breath became heavier, which made kissing even more intensely
difficult. Jason hoarsely begged, "Please, make me come!" And I reached
into his Fruit-of-the-Looms for his steaming treasure. Grasping his nearly
hairless boy root just below the head with all of my fingers, my palm
rested on his glans, and I started to stroke those 5 fiery inches with a
firm rhythm. A moment later, he stopped me.

"Wait - I don't want to make a mess." Unbuttoning the front of his
short-sleeved shirt, he slid his jeans down, and hooked his briefs under
his plum-shaped, hairless scrotum.

"I don't want to come on you, either. Actually I do, but that wouldn't be a
great idea right now."

Telling me to stand behind me, he added, "You can rub against my butt."

No sooner were his words out of his mouth than I was hugging him to me from
behind. Jason was a couple of inches taller than me, but I could lightly
kiss his neck, as I stopped squeezing his firm chest, and lightly pinched
his erecting nipples. As my tiny pile driver pressed against two barriers
of cotton, into the warm crevice between his grapefruit-like butt cheeks,
my hands wove circles down to his abs, and across the indentation left by
the elastic of briefs across his waist. One continued tracing circles
across the bunched white cotton, slinging like a hammock from one hip to
the other, until I reached the tightening bag of jewels. They fit perfectly
in my palm and I gently squeezed while Jason sighed.

My other hand fluted up and out along his turgid rod, from the few hairs
feathering the base of his 13-year-old dick, to the head that seemed to
swell and stretch his skin even more. "Stop teasing!" he whispered. So I
gripped him hard and started to pump that needful monster, with greater and
greater agitation My hand covered most of him, right up to the
glans. Humping in time into his firm bottom, my slender little boy tool
desperately plowed into the cotton barrier of my tight little briefs,
driving into the frontier of his Fruit of the Looms. I desperately wanted
to feel flesh against flesh, but the fabric was bringing even greater
friction to bear on my furious cock.

Pounding him faster from front and back, I heard him stifle more moaning,
and I gritted my teeth. I could hear a slight slapping every time the heel
of my hand hit his nearly hairless pubic mound.

"Faster, Robin! Please!"

And I held him harder and pumped him like a V8 engine for maybe a moment
more before his pelvis lurched outward, and I could feel some jets of semen
firing out of him like rounds from a silent cannon. He was nearly silent,
fighting against a growl I could feel in his chest, I kept stroking him
until he stopped pulsing, and then gently held his cock while he caught his
breath, I felt wetness on my fingers, and brought my hand back to sniff the
stream of milky boy seed. It smelled so good, I couldn't resist a
taste. The first lick was kind of sweet and salty, and not bad. So I licked
the rest of my hand clean.

"Turning his head, Jason whispered, "Did you eat my jizz?" He
asked. "Jizz," I thought. Nice word. I told him I did, and I liked it.

"That's so hot. Because I've got something to show you this weekend."

Before I could ask him what, he asked if I climaxed. I told him I was
close. So he bent over, and told me to get to work. I don't know why, but I
swatted his butt and told him he was a very naughty boy. He giggled as I
pressed the erection tenting up my tight blue briefs against that hot,
white, cotton-clad valley. Rubbing up and down, I ground my way into his
firm, athletic bottom. After a minute, my briefs had ridden down to my snug
little grapes. Gripping his hips I pulled myself further and further into
him by instinct, rather than plan. I could feel heat and moisture seeping
through that thickly-woven barrier, and I ground into him even harder.

"Cum for me, Robyn. Cum into me, Baby!" he urged me in a whisper.

And I did. I felt that itch and burn exploding from somewhere behind my
little sack, into my throbbing little love wand, desperately dry-heaving
against his brief-wrapped buttocks. And almost as soon as I came, I
collapsed over, onto his back, hugging him with short, panting
breaths. Waiting a beat, he slowly stood up and turned around, hugging me
back.

"That was so amazing, Jase," I said very quietly. "Oh my God. Just hold me
a little more. I'm kinda dizzy."

He smiled down at me and gently kissed me on the lips. "Can you do a
sleep-over at my place tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Hell yeah! I'll ask my parents and call you tonite."

"Great! Let's get going. We have 5 minutes more for lunch period"

Shit. We hadn't even eaten. Well, I ate a little of Jason, anyway. So
fucking cool, I thought.