Date: Tue, 14 Jan 2020 16:38:46 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Robin's Adventures | Conclusion Hi there. This is the final installment of my early adolescent memoirs. If you've enjoyed this long story, or if you enjoy any of the many beautifully written works on Nifty, please consider donating: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ================================================================= "Robin - check out the porpoises!" Mark never tired of seeing the bottle nosed dolphins, especially when we were surfing at dawn in our San Diego County town. This time, it was near sunset, and we were snuggled together in the living room of a beachfront house with stunning views of the streaky reds and oranges typical of a February in coastal SoCal in the 70's. Air pollution drifting north from Tijuana and south from L.A. made sundown perversely beautiful. A partner at his dad's law firm hired the 13-year-old to check on his family's cats every day while they were on vacation in Mexico. One Saturday, he asked me to join him, feeding and playing with the cats, and, ugh, emptying the litter box. Admiring the panoramic view of the almost cloudless sky, we found ourselves curled up on a large sofa facing the flat Pacific. With no breeze to raise a chop, the porpoise pod was easy to spot cruising by in the glassy water. We'd biked over, and that by itself almost brought tears to my eyes. Until a couple of weeks before hand, I'd been crutching around in a cast, recovering from a skiing-related broken leg for two months. My parents had waited until after my cast was off to hold a final pool party before they emptied it (owing to California's extended drought). After that party ended, and my parents, my big sister and her boyfriend all drifted off to bed, I was cuddling with Mark under a blanket, while my little brother Chris and his buddy Trevor were lying on their bellies on the den's carpeted floor, under their own blanket. Because it had turned chilly that night, all of us boys (even my clothes-hating brother), were in sweats, under the covers. While we watched TV, Mark and I were quietly playing "Mercy," our private game of slow, sexual torment. Our hands were in each other's sweatpants, very delicately tickling each other's groins through our briefs. Whispering and occasionally giggling, we spent a good hour feathering each other's rigid, cotton-constrained erections with our fingertips. The objective of "Mercy" was to force the other to surrender and beg for release. And neither of us were giving up that night. I spent a long time using my index finger to trace tiny patterns up and down the steamy pole throbbing up his soft, white undies. At the same time, Mark, tickled my small walnut scrotum through my snug, sheer little German briefs. Part of the latest generation of a notoriously late-blooming family, my hairless nuts were smaller than Mark's, who was a year younger than me. When I traced down to his swaddled ball pouch, I could tell Mark's nuts were straining into his body, and as he began to tremble, I hoped I had the advantage. But then, he leaned in to my ear, gently nibbling on the lobe, and then carefully tracing his tongue tip into my ear canal. He knew that drove me nuts, and had already moved his hand further down inside my sweatpants to my skinny little thigh. I would have come if he'd maintained any contact with my junk. I guess this is what they call "edging," today. A few minutes later, Mark motioned with his jaw at the younger boys. Trevor had quietly slid on top of Chris' back, and his butt was slightly rising and falling under their blanket. I'm not much of a voyeur, but the sight of the almost 11-year-olds humping, combined with Mark's hand was threatening to push me over, again. "Hey, dudes," I said quietly. "Why don't you take it upstairs?" Trevor giggled and looked guiltily, while Chris merely grinned and nodded. When they were gone, Mark whispered, "They have the right idea." "I don't know," I replied, pretending to focus on the TV, "McMillan and Wife is just getting good." We both laughed. It was never good -- at least, for us. But we continued to play along, gentling tickling up and down our pulsating boy poles for a few minutes more. Suddenly, Mark groaned in frustration, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek, while his hand dove under the waistband of my tight little briefs. Gripping me firmly by the shaft with his thumb and two fingers, he started to stroke me for real. "I give up!" Mark whispered through a grin. "Jack me off, you sexy bastard!" Chuckling through a smile, I slid my hand into his dampened undies, twirling my fingertips for a moment around his oozing, circumcised head. At the same time, I leaned in to rest my lips against his. As we kissed with increasing passion, Mark stroked me with an urgency that showed he was even closer than me. I spent a minute circling my thumb around his head, while rubbing his base the bottom of my hand, then wrapped two fingers and my thumb around him. We jerked each other in time, pulling our lips away to quietly gasp against each other's long hair. "Oh, fuck, Robin," Mark heaved into my ear. "Here it comes..." Quickly, I dove down under the blanket, and pulled down the front of Mark's white underpants with my other hand, just in time to seal my lips around his raging mushroom cap. Stroking him furiously, I pulled a sweet and salty jet of boy stew into my hungry mouth. Swallowing quickly, I felt Mark's abs tightening like drums with the next two thinner jets. He heaved quietly, while pulsating drily in my mouth. When we finally finished, I pulled his undies back in place, and sat up again. Mark was flushed, and his eyes barely peeled apart while he caught his breath. "Dude, you almost killed me," he quietly heaved. "Oh, do you need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?" I asked with mock concern. "Mouth-to-something, for sure," he smiled, and slid under the blanket. Kissing his way down my skinny abs, he quickly reached my undies. Thankfully, he wasted little time teasing me, merely kissing my length through thin, stretchy cotton. Hooking my undies under my smooth little sack, he was soon licking the underside of my slender, nearly 4-inch length, and I was quivering. After etching each feature of my circumcised frenulum with his tongue tip, he pursed his mouth around my knob and inhaled me all the way to my barren pubic mound. Gently squeezing my straining little nuts with his fingertips in time with each run up and down my cock, it was no more than a minute before I felt the itchy fire building behind and within my scrotum. Mark's oral love felt so hot and wet and good I needed to scream as my tiny load bubbled out. But I held my raging cry deep within my solidly clenching abdomen, and as stars burst against my shut eyelids, I fell into darkness. Two weeks later, as we caressed one another on a stranger's couch, watching the afternoon end over the Pacific, I was combing my hand through the 13-year-old's collar-length, naturally black hair, and couldn't help but occasionally kiss his pert, freckle-dusted nose. His beautiful, girlish features, and ice blue eyes would have melted my heart even if his free-spirited, gentle soul hadn't already taken me completely. "You know, I'm really in love with you," he was saying quietly, and earnestly, gazing into my eyes while pulling my long blonde hair behind an ear. He went on about all the ways I was changing his life, and I don't remember a word of it. He'd had a bigger impact on me, and not just by getting me to join the dive team at the after school swim program, or take ballet to improve my diving. He'd opened my eyes to performing arts and writing, and I was becoming inspired by his uninhibited individualism. He was his own person in an era of often crushing conformity: surfer, athlete, aspiring dancer and film maker, and goth before there was even a name for it. But it's not like we were flamboyantly public with our romance. Though our families were very happy for us, in the 70s, even in California, being out invited bullying, if not violence. So we kept our public displays of affection discrete, if sometimes risky. Yet in the warm seaside living room, in a house empty of people, we had no reason to corral the ponies, and our chatting quickly folded into deep kissing. Nibbling and sucking on lips, and fellating each other's tongues, we soon lost our flip flops and trousers, and were rolling around on the deep pile carpeting in just our briefs and the long, colorfully woven Mexican hoodies surfers wore at the time (naturally, Mark had somehow found one in black and purple). It was a physicality I'd been denied for two months, and I was hungry for Mark's thighs against mine. Sometimes tickling each other, and other times squeezing, we laughed and sighed and moaned so loudly we sometimes frightened the cats. As I rolled Mark onto his back, and traced my fingertips under his shirt, and around his slender abs, I was glad the cast had finally come off my leg. After 2 months of suspended mobility, I no longer had to be physically passive, and we were almost wrestling. I was on top of him, then Mark on me, our lips never leaving, except to let our tongues duel between us. Our moaning built as our hands squeezed each other's buns, and our rigid bones pressed together through our tight briefs. I reached between us to clasp his bone through his stretchy undies. Mark trembled and sighed, and I squeezed him delicately. By mutual agreement, we hadn't touched ourselves in the week since our previous sleep-over hookup, and so we were both on hair triggers. Mark reached down to squeeze my almost-4-inch sex through my sheer German undies, and I closed my eyes and gasped. When I opened them, his sparkling eyes reflected a slight orange at the edges from the setting sun. "It's almost time, dude," Mark said, with a tender smile. I looked up, and the sun had reached the now dark blue ocean. He helped me up, and we slid each other's briefs off, revealing our still hairless adolescent erections. The 13-year-old's was an inch longer than mine, and definitely thicker, while his smooth scrotum was was a bit larger, as well. Though 14 years old, I never felt insecure about my slow growth with Mark. We spent only moments delicately fluting our fingertips along each other's throbbing boy poles, kissing lightly, before I went to my backpack and pulled out a tube of Vasoline. I'd run out of the lube my cousin gave in Munich that summer, and Vasoline was a distant runner up replacement. But you work with the tools you have, in more ways than one. Mark had made a pile of throw pillows on the floor, and threw a beach towel over them, to support his hips, then lay face to the floor. His firm, slender white globes aimed at the sky invitingly, and I knelt between his legs, spreading them further before planting kisses all over his buns. Running my fingers from Mark's sinewy bare thighs, up his ass, then under his hoody to the small of his back, and returning, I rubbed warmth into his chilling flesh. Then, I buried my face between his buttocks. We'd planned this moment, and after surfing that afternoon, we'd both showered, shampooed and also cleaned our asses with care (separately). The fragrance of Irish Spring mingled with a slight sweat musk from our bike ride over, and I eagerly dove into his salty, soap-tasting star fish. Licking round and around, I spent many long minutes eating his anus until my tongue slid in. Mark's was breathing heavily, and his nuts and cock were pinned by the pillows, pointing back toward me. Placing my palm against his pounding, oozing sex, I slid my thumb into his ring, gently drilling, while adding my oral slop. "Robin, please!" Mark gasped. "Put it in me!" I was just as eager, and quickly squeezed enough Vasoline on my hand to lube my dick, then worked a gob into Mark's boy hole. He reached back to spread his buns, and I lined up my glistening, slender tumescence at the waiting wet entrance. With very little resistance, I popped through Mark's ring, and we both sucked in air quickly. Slowly, I slid all the way in to my hairless base. Mark returned his arms under his chest, resting his face on his hands. Holding him by his slim, muscular hips, I slowly pulled back, and then forth, with slight micro thrusts. Carefully aiming downward, I made sure my helmet rubbed his little acorn. Within moments I was grinding faster. Pump! Pump! Pumping into his rubbery bottom. His hole clutched me with a tight, warm grip, and he clenched his anus rhythmically with every pounding push. We had to be careful. Either of us could have come every time I quickened my plunges, with Mark's ass pushed back to meet me in time. So every few moments we slowed to a glacial pace. At one point, I held one of his hips up, so I could drill deeper. And I rammed faster. Then we returned to all fours so his leg wouldn't cramp. The sun was 3/4 down, and I started pounding harder. We wanted to climax with the last moment of the setting sun. According to legend, on a cloudless winter day, when the very last piece of sun descends below the horizon, you can see a flash of green light flood the sky. Neither of us had seen it. But maybe we could fuck one out of the universe. "Ohhh...Harder! Robin!" Mark gasped. Then moments later. "No, no. Wait a sec!" When the sun was nearing its end, so were we. I plowed hard and fast, and Mark's helpless cock was being pillaged by the mound of pillows. "I'm about to...!" Mark cried. "Me..uuuuh...too!!" As the last big of orange descended was swallowed by the sky, my nuts clenched, and hot, itchy fire detonated out of my loins. The tiny load I had to offer Mark's ass hurled out in a single drop. I shrieked in unison with Mark, as his ass clamped onto my erection. I kept howling as stars erupted across my eyes - much more than any green flash. Heaving and pounding and howling, I pulsed two or three more times, then slumped onto Mark's back. Our sweat-soaked hoodies clung between us, as I softened in his bottom. "Holy shit!" I heaved. "That was fucking boss!" Mark, agreed. Gradually, we climbed up and pulled off our hoodies, spreading them over a furnace vent to dry. Finally totally naked, we kissed in the twilight darkened living room, while cats purred and scurried around. Over the next 2 hours, we fucked twice more. Mark took my ass more slowly, then I took him again, over a long time and from a lot of different angles. It was not yet the finest fuck we'd have, for we'd perfect our physical communication over many years to come. ========================================================= EPILOGUE Many years? Indeed. Mark and I are together still. He rolls his eyes every time I sit down to write these memoirs of my early years. While he was attending UCLA, and I was at Yale, we hooked up with other guys, but our hearts belonged to one another. So we attended grad schools in LA, living together at a time when you could still drive across town in an hour. We became monogamous, though never boring. Mark's gothic tastes extended to very interesting kinks. We married, first informally, then legally, and fostered 3 kids, who asked to each asked to be adopted. While one boy and one girl had their exploratory years, they're in happy hetero marriages, and we're soon to be grandads. Our lesbian girl is a disruptive, radical professor who continues to make us proud. She's also the only member of our nuclear family who will go ice climbing with me. When he turned 14 or so, my little brother Chris went girl crazy. Once in a while, we would find ourselves in each other's beds as he grew up. But after college, he became a total poon hound, eventually settling into a very happy marriage. He's also going to be a grandfather, soon. My big sister, probably the family member closest to me, had a troubling and brief first marriage, and Mark and I stepped up to help her raise her son while she attended medical school at USC. Eventually, she married another surgeon, with whom they had another son. Jason, who's real name you would recognize, finally came out of the closet while getting his MFA. He's earned a Pulitzer Prize for his photography, and I still have a small folder of the erotica he staged of us together. He moved to West Hollywood, and we see each other socially, every so often. He even had an assignment to shoot Mark at work. As adults, neither could really figure out their animosity during junior high. And that's the end of this story. If you've made it this far, thank you for your endurance. Many of the details, especially the names have been changed to protect my friends' privacy. But the core truths remain, and I hope you enjoyed them. =========================================================== Related Story: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/young-friends/after-the-lakers-game/ Other Stories: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/boy-on-the-run https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/dorm-room-fashion-show/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/young-friends/terry-shares-his-bits/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/newts-long-weekend/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/ellis-wakes-up