Date: Thu, 15 Oct 2020 22:24:05 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: Night Clerk | Part 5 The continuing story of two boys with unusual jobs, after they met in the Pacific Northwest. Thank you for following this series. If you've enjoyed it, or any of the works here on Nifty, can you please make a donation? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================== "You are released for the day, Mr. Anderson," the production coordinator told 14-year-old Trevor with mock formality. "Your call time Monday is 5 AM. So Max will pick you and your mother up at 4:30," she said, nodding her head toward a nearby production assistant. Handing Trevor his part of the script for the location on Monday, then ruffling his flame-red hair affectionately, she added, "Here're your sides. Happy Halloween, kiddo." "You too, Candice," Trevor grinned, and turned to leave with his mom, while the rest of the crew broke for lunch. It was 11:30 AM that Friday, and Trevor's work day was over. By the time they got home, his best friend, 13-year-old Harley De Vries would be there, too. "Home," for Trevor and his mother Claire during their stay in L.A., was the De Vries family home in Los Feliz. Ironically, Trevor and Claire really lived at the Anderson family's Dew Drop Inn Motor Court, on the Olympic Peninsula, across the Sound from Seattle, where Harley and his mom Hannah had departed that morning. Harley was working on a TV series across the border in Vancouver that Fall, while Trevor was finishing his first of a two-week shoot. That summer, Hollywood's esteemed De Vries family had been exploring the length of the Pacific Coast Highway, had stopped at the Dew Drop Inn one fateful night, and Harley met Trevor. From completely different backgrounds, the boys fit together like unique parts only meant for one bespoke engine. At the same time, Harley's father, Bram saw something special in Trevor, and had forwarded video of the boy to a friend from art school for a commercial being cast. Until Trevor'd been on set a month earlier for an initial ad shoot, he still scarcely believed you could be paid to play pretend. And according to the director, he was good at it. At least good at selling macaroni-and-cheese. "Did you have fun today, Peanut?" Claire asked her son, using the family's pet name for Trevor, as they climbed into the service car. By law required to be on set, Claire was conflicted about Trevor being on camera, and even more so about leaving her husband alone to run the family business. But if Trevor's new manager were right, the boy's fees and residuals would pay for a good chunk of art school, if invested wisely. "Mom, it was the best!" Trevor replied, telling Claire he could see doing more of this work. Smiling and nodding, she worried about his disappointment if there were no other offers. That business could destroy kids; hence her anxiety. "Can't wait to see Harley!" Trevor said, excitedly. It'd been sheer luck that Harley had no scenes in his series the following week, and could come home for a few days. The boys hadn't seen one another in a couple of weeks, when Hannah and Harley had last driven to the Andersons' home for a long weekend. The boys were growing ever closer emotionally and physically, but FaceTime was no substitute for wrapping arms around one another. Arriving home, Trevor was barely out of the vehicle when Harley pulled him into his arms for a fierce hug. Waiting for the boys to release each other, Hannah coughed and reminded Harley about manners. "You could also say hello to Claire." Trevor's mom laughed and winked at Hannah, while the boys hugged each others' moms. Bram was across town in meetings, and Hannah and Claire would be spending the afternoon at an opening at the Arboretum, with the boys begging out. But they'd all be going out to lunch, first. "We're leaving in 15 minutes," Hannah called out, as the boys raced to Harley's room to get changed into shorts. But they barely crossed the threshold, slamming the door shut, when they kicked off their shoes, and landed on Harley's bed in a chaotic blur of arms and legs. Mouths sealing together, tongues whipping needfully, hands caressing and tearing at clothing. Moans and sighs. In a flash, their trousers and underwear were bunched at their ankles, and they lay on their sides, heads corkscrewing mouth-to-mouth. There was no gentle prelude; no foreplay. The boys clasped each other in firm, single-handed grips, stroking in a frenzy like trapped miners digging for air. Lips pulled apart as their breathing grew tattered, and the boys rested their faces together, masturbating each other in a mounting ferocity. "Harder...uh...Don't Stop...Uhhhh...Harley!" "Cum for...me...Peanut!" "That's...it...Baby! Faster!" Harley's fist could have peeled the pinkish skin from Trevor's slender five-inches, and the blurring violence pounding through Trevor's penis struck into adolescent nuts swollen from a day's neglect. Igniting Trevor's volatile store house, Harley pulled incoherent cries from his friend, as plume after milky plume jetted across their t-shirts. The sensation of hot boy manna splashing onto his torso sent Harley over the edge, and with a gasp, he silently shivered. Though dazed, Trevor polished the boy's thick 7-inches like he was stripping paint from a brass pole. His furious rubbing milked a small watery burst, and then several dry pulsations. Gradually, the boys' fists slowed and pulled away. Their lips met for gentle communion, and shared heavy breathing. "I think we set a record, dude!" Harley whispered and sighed. "For time and messiness." Trevor agreed. Harley giggled. "Yeah. Looks like we gotta change everything, now." Getting up, and stumbling out of their clothes, the flushed boys smiled in appraisal of each other, naked but for their socks. Trevor was only starting to reach his first growth spurt, and wasn't much taller than Harley. But unlike Harley -- who was completely hairless but for his head -- Trevor sported a small fiery red bush at the crest of his softening base. Both runners, the boys were lean and sinewy, though Harley's track, road running and soccer work-outs carved a much more pronounced pelvic "V," framing a cock softening to almost 4 inches. Trevor turned to get some clothes off the shelves he was given in Harley's closet, when his friend stopped him. "Here, wear these," the boy said, handing Trevor the pair of vintage 80's athletic shorts he'd been promised, and some kind of corresponding polo shirt, bisected with a group of thick, horizontal stripes. Trevor laughed at his friend's fashion demands. When Trevor reached for fresh pair of boxer briefs, Harley stopped him again, shaking his head with a smirk. "Those're longer than the shorts, and the whole point is to show off those sexy legs." Trevor rolled his eyes, and muttered "OK," in submission, pulling out one of the pairs of fancy, sheer little hip briefs Harley had bought him. At the same time, he gazed as his friend pulled on similar undies, reluctantly admitting to himself they were kind of sexy. Just as Hannah called down the hall for them, the boys emerged in full vintage, long legs only covered by knee-high, striped tube socks. Though different colors, their matching, high cut nylon shorts barely covered their bottoms, and Claire laughed at shirts similar to what her father wore in embarrassing old family photos. Always amused by retro trends, Claire smiled at her son and said, "At least you have the haircut to pull it off." Trevor blushed. He hated the bowl cut the production company had given his careless, shoulder-length hair. Running from eye-brow-length bangs, sweeping just below his ears to the nape of his neck, the haircut lead to a lot of middle school ridicule, and it made the late-bloomer look almost 10 years old. But hair grew back, and money did not grow on trees. So he'd live with it for the gig. After lunch at a Mexican restaurant on Hillhurst, Hannah pulled the boys' bikes out of the SUV, and let them know they wouldn't be back from Pasadena until 6. Taking a last look at the boys in their vintage clothes, she laughed and muttered something in Dutch before driving off. "Let's hit the dog park!" Harley cried, pulling on his helmet and slinging his backpack, then leading his friend on a 30-minute ride. Though he really wanted his own dog, Harley's parents and he frequently worked long days in L.A. or out-of-town, and that would leave Jesse the primary care-giver, which wouldn't be fair. So, Harley got to scratch that itch by playing with the dogs at a community run in the nearby neighborhood of Silver Lake. While locking their bikes, Trevor looked in dismay at the eroded stretch of dirt hillside, surrounded by chain-link fence, and overlooking the Silver Lake reservoir. "There's hardly any grass, Harley," Trevor said quietly, as they eased through the gate. Harley sighed. "Yeah. Not enough park for all the dogs. They try seeding it every Spring, but... at sunup and down, every day, they'll be hundreds of dogs. All kinds. There're even a couple of wolf-hybrids!" But in the middle of a weekday, there were only 10 or so in the large dog section, and soon Harley and Trevor found a border collie keen to catch Frisbees, and a human ready to let a couple of kids give her some time off from the very active dog. Despite sunscreen, Trevor quickly needed to get in the shade. While Harley raced around with the Mollie the Collie, her human and Trevor chatted about Mollie, his German Shepard, Zeek, and then, of course, The Industry. Apparently, 20-something Dolores was an assistant director who was between gigs. And while they were talking, Trevor kept a close eye on his friend. The back of Harley's short shorts hung just below his ass cheeks, with a notch between the front and back. The elastic of his underpants drew a noticeable indentation just above the leg seem, and the notch revealed a good inch of his briefs. Trevor grew beguiled by these alluring hints, and when the Harley bent down to pick up the Frisbee Mollie would drop at his feet, his shorts rode up in the bottom, showing a good couple of inches of underwear-covered buns, and outlining his ass crack.Trevor was starting to harden at the sight, and made sure his polo shirt was hanging over his crotch. For a moment, Dolores followed Trevor's gaze. "Those are really cute little outfits you guys have. They don't leave much to the imagination, though." Trevor blushed. "Yeah, my friend is into retro stuff." "Speaking of retro, back in my day, kids were in school until 3, even on Fridays." "I'm working today," Trevor replied, explaining his current gig, and Harley's job, and the woman's eyes lit up. "I thought he looked familiar." Immediately, Dolores lost interest in Trevor and made her way over to the son of Bram De Vries, mining a possible connection. After politely chatting with her, Harley made excuses, and he and Trevor returned to their bikes. "No one's never not hustling," Harley sighed. It was one of the reasons he didn't take the business seriously, and the reason Jesse actively loathed it. Pulling on his helmet Trevor whispered, "Is there any place we can go nearby? Like, where we can be alone?" Harley smirked. "Can't wait until we get back?" With his back to the dog park people, he reached under Trevor's tight polo shirt. Harley pressed into the front of the boy's swollen shorts, and he smirked. Asking what had conjured Trevor's quivering bone, Harley readjusted the new swelling in the front of his own shorts with one hand, while squeezing his friend with the other. Trevor grit his teeth, pulled Trevor's fingers away, and told him about his view from the park. Quickly running through options, and discarding any thoughts of breaking into an empty home, Harley explained there were few choices, short of a Trader Joe's men's room stall. "Let's head back home" Harley said quietly, wagging an eyebrow. "It's just us until 6." The boys made it to Los Feliz in record time, and Trevor managed to lose his erection, until they started climbing the hill to the De Vries home. Harley had to stand to pedal up the steep incline, and knowing Trevor's new achilles heel, he kept his head forward and ass high. Trevor was bewitched by those creamy, cloth covered buns, appearing and disappearing out of the bottom of Harley's nylon shorts, like eyelids slowly opening and closing out of sync. Harley's firm fruit rubbed together in an easy cadence that matched the pounding in the front of Trevor's shorts. He poured sweat and pumped his pedals harder. At last, the boys opened the gate, and rode in, legs aflame from the uphill race. Every ropey muscle gleamed in the sunlight, drenched in fresh boy sweat: savory flesh timber. Leaving the bikes by the garage, the pair staggered into the house, grabbed water and towels, then headed for the pool. The steep hill climb had only pumped more blood into Trevor's lower extremities, and his sheer and snug little briefs threatened to tear from the need pressing out. As Harley bent to lay out a towel, Trevor's fevered, magnetized hands swung to his friends buttocks, and he dropped to his knees, worshipping firm-muscled globes. While kissing and gently biting each nylon packaged orb, Trevor slid both hands up the backside leg seems, caressing Harley's resiliency through sweat-dampened underpants. "God, you're such fire, dude!" Trevor heaved, while Harley laughed and straightened up. Turning and pulling the boy up up from his supplication, Harley wrapped his arms around the redhead, and let his lips lead him to Trevor. Their mouths slowly waltzed, though their tongues met to tango. Trevor's painfully engorged flesh pressed against the raging slab in Harley's shorts, and he filled his hands with nylon-encased buttocks, squeezing and pulling Harley into him harder. Harley's hands caressed the length and breath of Trevor's slender back, and he dragged his lips to his friend's ear. "You drive me fucking crazy, Peanut," he whispered, licensed to use the Anderson's pet name for Trevor. Then Harley delicately bit Trevor's earlobe, stretching it out and releasing it. "That's nothing compared to what you do to me, baby," Trevor sighed into Harley's ear. The boy's held each other for a moment, kissing the dew from each other's necks. "Do you think that, uh, I could," Trevor grew suddenly timid, and without any delicate phraseology. "Could I fuck you? Here? Now?" Trevor had always been so greedy for Harley to fill him, they'd never tried switching places. But the blond's comely bottom had taunted him all day. Harley grinned. "Natch, dude. Anytime. Anywhere. But it's really hot. Can we cool off, first?" Denied immediate gratification, Trevor was only a little disappointed. Harley was right. Though the sun hung low in the mid-afternoon, sheets of sweat rippled down their bodies, and their clothes were soaked. L.A. was so different from Trevor's perpetually chilly home. "Go rinse off," Harley said, pointing to the outdoor shower next to the little pool cabana. "I'm gonna go get something." Raising an eyebrow, and drawing a giggle from Trevor, Harley trotted into the house. Trevor peeled off his shirt, shoes and socks with lightening speed, and scrambled into the cool shower. While washing away his sweat and grime, and discreetly washing his nether regions, his erection grew torpid. And as Trevor considered his good fortune for the hundredth time that day, Harley reappeared, setting down something in a hand towel. Turning off the water, Trevor stepped out, sleek and wet and pinkish pale, for Harley's gleeful inspection. Harley bit his lower smiling lip, drinking in the creamy redhead's body. Slender abs and wiry legs met somewhere behind tiny snorts water-pasted onto Trevor. The details within were obscured by his undies, their hemlines clearly defined in an arrow-like convergence pointing between Trevor's thighs. "Fuck, dude," Harley muttered, and raced to pull off most of his clothes. While he rinsed off, Trevor entered the water gracefully. Watching Trevor, Harley thought he looked nymph-like and delicate, though there was nothing effeminate about his friend. Maybe it was Trevor's sensitive nature he saw, the overwhelming nimbus of his closest friend. Moments later, the boys were lying on their backs, buoyed by pool noodles, staring up at the cloudless sky. Floating and cooling, an arm running under Trevor's back, Harley said with quiet awe, "I'm fucking lucky to have you." "Dude," Trevor replied, "I'm the lucky one. You could have anyone here. There's hotties everywhere." Harley sighed. "Vapid bimbos, Trev. And besides, you are genuine sex-candy." Trevor laughed. "Puhleeeze." "No, really. My school is nothing but cookie-cutter pretty boys, and you are parsecs different." Trevor paused. "And you're my best friend. The best ever. I don't want anybody but you." Trevor's heart billowed. He searched for some way to describe the depth of his feelings for Harley. But he was a visual person, and had been working on a painting to express it. All he could get out was a feeble, "Me too, dude." "Come here," Trevor said, letting his legs plummet to stand up in the chest-deep water, then slipping a hand in Harley's. Pulling the blond to him, Trevor soon had his friend chest-to-chest, and the boys spent a few moments finger-slithering across each other's rubbery backs and sides. Slippery, pliant, resilient boy flesh in the sun. Lips unfurled and streamed together like silky-wet flags of surrender to one another. Their mouths danced and the boys shared their breath, exchanging the currency of lives bound to one another. In submerged caissons, trapped cocks engorged further with every moan above surface. So hard. Desperate in their submarine tombs and banging to get out. While their hips ground together, Harley and Trevor broke off their kiss and hugged tightly. A dawning awareness of the sun on his back flickered into Trevor's head. "Dude, can we get in the shade?" Harley rubbed his cheek all over Trevor's, and kissed it. "Yeah. I should probably put some sunscreen on you, Peanut." On the deck, the boys stood face-to-face under shade cloth for only a moment, before stripping each other to the bone. Addicted to each other, their familiarity only stoked desire, and their rigid young spears jousted merrily, while Trevor and Harley studied each other for what seemed like hours, but unfolded in seconds. Harley gently positioned Trevor face-down on a chaise lounge, and opened some sun screen. Sitting on Trevor's butt, Harley plastered generous dollops, carefully icing his sweet vanilla cake. As Harley stretched to glaze Trevor's shoulder with coconut scented grease, his aching limb beat against the redhead's pallid tom toms like rolling thunder. Though freshly pool-chilled, Trevor warmed under digging fingers that worked down his legs, then back up to his buns. Harley spent a long time worshiping Trevor's slender, firm butt cheeks, then rolled the boy over between his bent knees. Bending down to give Trevor another kiss, Harley's humongous hardness met Trevor's drooling flesh. Gently resting on Trevor's lap, with the boy's tool throbbing between his buns, Harley squirted some sun screen into his friend's hand, and they both lost little time smearing each other's arms and torsos. Too hungry to tease, their glistening fingers slid with purpose. When Trevor reached Harley's base, the blond smiled slyly, shook his head, and moved the boy's hand away. "It tastes terrible. And it stings like a bitch," Harley explained, getting up gracefully and languidly reaching for the towel parcel he'd brought earlier. Unfurling a bottle of lube, Harley knelt again, straddling Trevor's thighs, and Trevor grinned. "I can't believe people used to go to stores to buy that stuff," Trevor said, gazing at Harley, pouring oil into a hand. "Even if I was old enough, I'd be too embarrassed." Harley chuckled, "Yeah, I think I got this with a gift card from my aunt." Sitting face-to-face, and spreading his thighs over Trevor's, Harley slathered their cocks with lubricious syrup. Harley's slimy fingers saturated Trevor with slithering, lingering strokes and squeezes, and the redhead's eyes clenched shut and his body quaked. Harley gently held their throbbing flesh together in one hand, stroking up their fleshy log stack as far as Trevor's tip and back. With his other hand, Harley masturbated his own knob with his own foreskin for a few moments, then caressed both their testicles in a palm. "Haaaaarley...." Trevor quietly whined. "I need to put it in you." Harley grinned at his friend. He preferred to top, but Trevor's anguished need was so hot, and it had been a long time since he'd taken it in the ass. "OK, Peanut, let's do it!" Harley replied, and got up to reposition both of them. Spreading his legs and kneeling on the chais lounge cushion, Harley rested his willowy torso against the raised back, griped the top edges with both hands, and pushed his firm little buttocks out. Ass ravenous, Trevor knelt between Harley's calves and eagerly gripped the boy's pliant, muscular buns with each hand, roughly groping a bottom that had mocked him for hours. "Such a naughty little ass," Trevor smirked, studying the 12-year-old's grapefruits, pale as the rest of his board-shorts' moon tan, and gave each a soft spank, stirring only a slight tipple of skin on each. Harley sighed as his ass was parted, and he felt Trevor's breath in between. Clasping each buttock wide with both hands, then kissing and licking, Trevor mopped up every bit of the chlorinated sheen from Harley's rubbery globes, and left a glistening coating of mouth juice. Then, he trailed up and down the length of the valley floor, making Harley shiver. His artistry was less skillful than Harley's, who usually savored Trevor's ass like a gourmet. No, his tongue was purpose-driven, and its mission was that of a diving bell, dropping as quickly as possible into Harley's depths. Though gentle, Trevor was persistent, twirling his tongue until the tip parted the boy's rose petals. He didn't have the patience to fully open Harley orally, and so Trevor leaned back to grab the lube bottle. Harley's eyes were closed, and he breathed slowly through his nose, until Harley's greasy fingers slid between his buns, and a single finger pressed into him. Harley yipped. "Trev, dude, not so hard, OK?" Immediately embarrassed, Trevor leaned forward and kissed his friend on the neck and ear. "Sorry, Harley. I don't know what's gotten into me. Your ass is fire!" "That's OK," Harley whispered, then turned his head to kiss his friend lightly on the lips. "Just take your time." That was a tall order, but one Trevor would live with, and and he spent many minutes spiraling around Harley's tight star fish. Slowly but surely, it opened, and soon Trevor's finger slid past the circular vice, into Harley's hot canal. So warm and vaguely meaty. Eventually, Trevor's fingertip pressed against his friend's little acorn, making Harley gasp. Gently, Trevor pulled his greasy finger back, marveling at the gripping ring pulling against his finger like the sea anemones he'd find in Washington tide pools. Sliding his finger in and out with a gentle rhythm, Trevor pumped synchronized pants from Harley, before adding a second finger. Harley arched his back a little, pressing back against the intruder. Warmth billowed out from behind his nuts, and something besides muscles opened in Harley. The tip of his boyhood pounded uselessly against the lounge chair cushion, like an iron door knocker in a padded cell. Now it was Harley who plead. "Peanut, please, put it in me. Fuck me hard!" "I'm gonna fuck you senseless!" Quickly anointing Harley and he with more lightly fragrant unguent, Trevor pried away one of Harley's buns with one hand, while lining his slender, quivering 5-inch meat staff against his friend's little anus. Slowly, gently, lovingly, but urgently, Trevor pressed inward, and parted the tight ring. "Keep going," Harley grunted. Trevor's cock was only a little wider than the silver vibrator he occasionally used on both of them, and though painful, his ring of fire didn't flare in agony. Trevor popped through and kept going, millimeter by millimeter. He had to concentrate on his breathing so he could keep his mind off the exquisite, hot grip he passed through. Harley's moan grew in pitch and volume when Trevor finally filled him, pressing hard against his special place. Even if he didn't need to let Harley relax around him, Trevor needed to calm himself, or he'd blow his load from the sensations on his cock, the rubbery resilience of Harley buns against his loins, and the combined heat of their bodies together. Trevor's lips landed like dandelion flowers on Harley's shoulders for must a moment, then he held onto his friend by one shoulder, while caressing the boy's tummy with the other. "This is so lit," Harley sighed. "You read, baby?" "Born ready, Peanut. Fuck my ass hard, dude!" Steadying himself with the hand on his friend's shoulders, and the other on Harley's slender hip, Trevor glacially pulled himself almost all the way out, then steamrolled in. Angel fire bloomed in his bottom with each slow-pump, and Harley squeezed his friend with his bowels, making Trevor gasp. Trevor had been inside a couple of other boys before, but this was different. It was more than fucking. He was sharing love with his friend through the union of cock and ass, and that communion demanded gradually deeper commitment. Trevor couldn't stop his hips from plowing headlong, like a truck with no brakes on a steep mountain road.. Too fast. His balls clenched, and Trevor froze, doing math problems in his head, willing away the tidal surge racing toward his penis. "What's wrong, dude?" Harley huffed. "Just a...uh...sec," Trevor whispered. "Almost blew." When the all-clear whistle sounded down his nervous system, Trevor began a very slow rhythm, rolling in and out of Harley like a locomotive lurching forward from a full stop. In and out, pumping and pumping and pumping, Trevor sawed his friend open with gentle oscillations that built incrementally faster. Harley stretched one leg out to rest on the chair's arm, so Trevor could plunge even deeper. "So savage, Trev!" Harley hissed. "Harder, dude!" Trevor lost himself in the fury building his his cock again. A stallion galloping toward a cliff. The hot meat vice burnished his cock, and Trevor's momentum approached terminal velocity, a slave to the itchy friction grinding into him. Plunging driving slamming drilling thrusting. His body, again sweat-soaked, drizzled onto his equally damp friend. Harley heaved and moaned with every thrust; his body quivered with all his muscles in electrical relay from his tightening, bald sack. Testicles swollen with dry fire, they hugged into the boy. "Don't! Stop! Trevor!" Harley heaved, as his body shook with anticipation. Trevor couldn't have stopped his hips if he'd wanted to, and he didn't want to. But again, his balls rippled with little warning, his still hairless scrotum tightening. His hips slammed hard, and he cried out, "Harrrrrlllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!!!" Trevor's eyelids were clenching domes over a fireworks display as furious as the hot lava bursting within Harley's core. Ramming five or six times, Trevor finally collapsing on his friend. Vaguely, he grew conscious of Harley's arm pistoning below. Still hard, Trevor thrust, despite the sensitivity. Pumping grew into slamming and slamming and slamming. At last Harley, grit his teeth in silent splendor. The pressure inside him equalized with the pressure he applied to his thick, hairless 7-inches. His cock roared with a meager squirt, and kept trying to launch missiles from now empty silos. And with each of his detonations, Harley's anus crushed Trevor's tender steel, making him writhe and groan. Miraculously, Trevor's boyhood exploded again, drooling his remaining meager seed into Harley. Falling onto Harley once more, Trevor hugged around his chest, and shivered as his cock softened, painfully sensitive to his friend's tectonic after shocks. "Whoah," Harley whispered and panted into his friend's ear. "Your ass is the shit." Harley giggled at the unintended word play, and then Trevor laughed, realizing what he'd just said. "Did you come twice, dude?" Harley asked lightly through a smile. "Yeah. Can you believe it?" Trevor agreed, in wonder. "It's just, I dunno, you have such a fine ass. And...there was something, I can't really describe it." It was his feelings for Harley that had taken root in his loins. "That's my boy. Such a poet." Harley laughed. "Shut up, dude." Just then, Trevor's spent 3 inches flopped out of Harley's buns, and both boys made sad sounds. "So I think you owe me one, Trev," Harley said, mischievously. Just then, wetness seeped out of him, dripping down his leg. "But let's get cleaned up, first." Tidying up in the little cabana's bathroom, Trevor wonder if Harley was going to split him open at the poolside with his boy-aged, man-sized cock. Hand-in-hand they walked back to their place in the shade, just as the kitchen door opened and Jesse stepped out. Having gone a month without seeing one another, the brothers whooped in Dutch, and embraced one another in a bear hug. Jesse smiled a greeting at Trevor, who he'd seen every night that week. "I thought you weren't getting home until 7, Jesse," Harley said, thankful his brother hadn't gotten home 15 minutes earlier. "No practice today," Jesse replied, mentioning some maintenance work on the soccer fields. Facing Trevor as well, he asked, "Do you guys mind if Tara and I join you?" "No!" Trevor replied, a little too promptly, though his hands instinctively dropped to cover his loins. He'd already skinny dipped with the 16-year-old couple the previous weekend, but it had been at night, when they couldn't see much. But resigned to the De Vries lifestyle, Trevor pried his hands apart again with conscious intent. "You sure?" Jesse asked quietly, nodding with his chin at the bottle of lube the boys had discarded on the deck. Harley turned red and Trevor redder. "Yeah, totally sure," Harley confirmed, kicking the bottle under a towel just as the screen door yawned open, and the high school beauty stepped out. "Harley!" Tara cried. She really like Jesse's younger brother, and the two hugged as easily as if Harley had clothes on. Trevor shook his head in admiration. He was going to have to work on his modesty. But when Tara gave Trevor a fist bump, he could swear she briefly surveyed his pubescence, utterly hairless but for his little fire bush. Bur she kept her smile casual and friendly. As the 16-year-olds shed their clothes for a swim, Harley whispered into Trevor's ear, "looks like payment isn't due until tonight. ============================================================ "You like it, Trev?" Harley asked, rotating to model his costume. "Yeah! It's so bizarre!" Trevor replied brightly. Bending to pull on thin tights matching Harley's, he studied the boy's strangely hypnotic, spectral vestments. Bram hired one of his regular costume designers to create macabre phantom outfits for the family's outing. Black boots lead to black leggings, painted in abstract white patterns with dabbing of red. From some angles, the shapes looked like human bones, and from others, they looked a blur of motion. Like the rest of the group's costumes, Harley's top was black, with the same patterns, and hung shapelessly just below his crotch. When they finished dressing, the boys would join Bram, Hannah and Claire, to have hair and make-up applied by a freelance pro. After Trevor pulled up his tights, Harley pursed his lips to one side, squinting. "Mmmm...Not gonna work, Trev," he said, with a chuckle. "What?" Trevor asked. "Look in the mirror," Harley replied, pointing to Trevor's reflection in the full-length glass. It didn't stick out at first, but then he noticed. His ass, hips and loins almost glowed white from his now very apparent underpants. Trevor sighed. "No worries, dude," Harley said, opening his encyclopedic underwear drawer. Handing Trevor a pair of silky, jet black briefs, he giggled. "Though I do like that reminder of what I'll be getting into later," he added, staring at Trevor's reflection. Trevor bent to pull off his leggings. Without warning, Harley's hand spanked him sharply, the thin cotton of skimpy briefs muffling the swat. "Ouch!" Trevor squeaked, jumping, and kept peeling down his tights. But Harley's hand rested on his buttocks, and the boy's middle finger goosed his taint gently. Exasperated, Trevor pulled Harley's hand away, stood up to glare at his friend, and point at the tented and throbbing front of his sheer underpants. "Dude, unless we have time to take care of business, go get your face done." "Party pooper," Harley retorted, amusement stretching across his beaming face. Minutes later, Trevor joined the rest of the extended family, minus Jesse. The high school boy and his girlfriend had big kid plans. Trevor's eyes grew wide at the hideous sight of Bram, Hannah and Clair, in their phantom costumes, and in full make-up, with long, black wigs. Across the revenants' pancake white faces, menacing patterns of black seem to dance; their once familiar eyes now obscured with demonic, red-rimed contact lenses. And unlike Trevor, everyone seemed to glow. "Whoa!" Was all he could say, and the adult's expressions changed to gentle smiles. It didn't help. If he didn't know for sure these were his friends and his mom, he might have wet himself. "Forgot to mention the LEDs to you and Harley," Hannah said, reaching within a hidden pocket in Trevor's top. Trevor's curiosity about the small, heavy shape he'd felt earlier was assuaged when Hannah squeezed a button, and discretely sewn, ultra-violet LED's flickered in slow patterns across his top. Just then, Harley came out of the dining room, looking every bit as terrifying as the rest. "You're up, dude." Harley's chipper tone and thumb pointing back belied his appearance, and the remnants of Trevor's erection fully retreated. An amiable, 20-something man named Tracey got him made up, and instructed him about taking care of the contact lenses. Trevor looked in the mirror and didn't recognize himself. "That's...so weird!" Tracey laughed. "Imagine if we had a few hours for special effects." Minutes later, Tracey left, and the skeletal wraiths climbed into the De Vries SUV, headed for West Hollywood. Trevor was a little nervous about the annual gathering. "There gonna be a lot of people, Harley?" Trevor asked his friend quietly Harley shrugged. "I guess," he said, explaining that this was the first year Jesse hadn't taken him Trick-or-Treating. Deep down, he wished 12 wasn't too old to make the rounds. But he was finally invited to the fabled party his parents attended annually, now old enough to stay up late on the weekends. Some time later, Bram piloted the car up another set of narrow, winding streets, past a mixture of contemporary, glassy structures, and Spanish style houses much larger than the De Vries home. "You'll like Julian," Bram said over his shoulder to Claire and Trevor, referring to one of their hosts, a successful sculptor. "We met at art school in Arnhem, and we've been best friends ever since." "Yeah, he's pretty funny," Harley agreed, using the only barometer middle school boys valued. "Andrés, though..." Harley rolled his eyes, mentioning Julian's husband and co-host. Hannah chuckled, not disagreeing. One of the Four Tenors, the world-famous opera singer held himself in high regard. At the edge of a hidden property with a gated drive, a valet took their car, and the revenant family glided past groups of partiers on the front lawn, wonder-guessing about the glowing fright show approaching, then returning to gossip and character assassination. Discretely, a security guard, dressed like a mall cop, checked their invite, and Trevor wondered if that was a "meta" costume. Who could tell, with so many strange outfits, some traditionally horrifying, and others making trenchant social statements? Julian met them at the door with a group of friends, who all praised the Skeleton Clan's eeriness. And it turned it turned out Julian was a lovely and entertaining man. For a while, the group stuck together, and Trevor met a lot of people he'd later realize were celebrated actors, artists and musicians, but at the time, just seem like pleasant, interesting people. This was the rarer margin of L.A. the De Vries family and their friends gravitated toward: people who were serious about the work, and not the glamor. And in fact, a good number of attendees had nothing to do with the stage or recording or galleries at all. But there's only so much adult conversations the boys could take, and Harley peeled Trevor away when he spied a familiar group of older teens on a balcony. A fragrance of skunk weed lingered as the boys joined a group of 6 or so high school kids laughing, and obviously loaded. "Hey, gnarly costumes." A shapely Bat Girl nodded with an appraising smile. "What are you? Demons?" "Revenants, I think," Harley replied. "My folks were more about the art direction than the meaning." "Harley, you little wiener! I didn't recognize you!" The high school girl hugged him, and he turned to introduce Trevor. "He's my BFF, Paige," Harley said, with joking menace, "So don't you dare fuck with him." Harley knew one of the boys from a job, as well as Paige's younger sister, Abby. Like Paige, Abby was voluptuous, and objectively very pretty. And she clearly had an unrequited attraction for Harley, whom she glommed onto quickly. "I don't get your costume, Abby," Harley said, staring at the word balloon-shaped foam boards attached to her front and back, with just a single semicolon on each. "I'm an empty statement," she said, unsurprised when Harley nodded and smiled. That'd been the reaction all night. "It's a java-script pun," she muttered. "Hey, let's go downstairs," Paige suggested to the group. "I know the bartender." Moments later, they were on a huge deck leading to the pool, which was sparsely dotted with guests dancing to loud techno remixes of 80s songs. A moment later, Paige handed Trevor a shot. He'd tried a little alcohol before, so he threw back the small glass of booze, expecting fire in his throat. Instead, it was sweet, and hit him softly. "Let's dance!" Paige hollered in Trevor's ear, dragging him out to an open space where the other kids were bouncing around. The middle school dances Trevor attended were usually all about the Rock, and inelegantly thrown limbs, and his gyrations were an uncoordinated mess. Paige quickly stopped him, and held him closely by the hips. "You have to work it from here, then your legs. Arms are just the seasoning." It took a little while, and Paige's hands seem to spend a lot of time adjusting Trevor's hips and buttocks, but soon she had the boy dancing with a graceful rhythm that lured some attention on the pair from the 20-somethings around them. The dance floor filled, and long grooves kept them working for an hour or so. Paige's eyes never wavered from Trevor. They were both streaming sweat, and Trevor's carefully applied makeup was now a smear, made worse when he dragged his hand across his forehead. "Let's get something to drink!" Paige yelled, and he nodded with a grateful smile. As they stumbled toward the bar, Trevor couldn't see Harley or the other kids in the growing sea of dancers. A minute later, Paige handed Trevor a beer and bottle of water. Trevor chugged the later quickly, then Paige led him around the corner to a patio overlooking West Hollywood. "You kinda look like Munch's `The Scream,' now," Paige commented on Trevor's makeup, laughing. They chatted and joked for a while, slowly nursing their beers, and Paige proved to be a very funny, enchanting person. And unlike so many people in L.A., she never asked if he were in The Industry. If only he'd been remotely interested in girls... After a quiet moment, Paige looked curiously at him. "So how old are you, Trevor? 12, 13?" A straight boy with a crush on Paige might have been demolished by the question, but Trevor shrugged, knowing he lagged behind other boys his age. "14. And you?" A broad smile stretched beneath her Bat Girl mask. "16, dude." She paused for a moment. "You wanna slip away, find a place more quiet?" Trevor's blush was almost visible through the makeup. He'd never been hit on by a girl before. At least not that he ever knew. And Paige smiled at what she thought was his shyness, taking his hand in hers, to kiss the back. "You've never been with a girl before," she said concluded quietly. "It'll be OK. And 2 years isn't cradle robbing," she added with a chuckle. Trevor shook his head and smiled. "I'd be totally stoked, if I wasn't with someone." In fact, at that point, he really would have been tempted. Just for the experience, and with a benevolent soul like Paige. "Oh, I, uh, I didn't realize! I don't want fuck up a thing." Paige looked with concern. "Is she here?" Trevor giggled. "HE is," he replied, enjoying her slack-jawed look. "Harley. Fucking. De Vries. AGAIN!" Then she laughed, mentioning this wasn't the first time he'd beaten her to a cute boy. "You guys pretty close?" Trevor nodded, with a broad smile and a sense of pride, and recounted how Harley and he had met, and why he was in L.A. Just then, Abby and the blond boy himself found them. "Hey! There you guys are!" Harley exclaimed, as Abby he flopped into chairs. "Party's really startin' to go off." Trevor gazed down the hill at a split level cottage half-hidden by a copse of jacarandas. Shadow flickered across the windows. "Why do you guys think they told us to stay away from the guest house?" Trevor asked. Paige laughed. "I can only guess, dude. But I think it's about time we found out." Harley and Trevor shut off their lights. Stealthily scurrying down the slope, and hugging a shrub line, the foursome soon crouched by the windows of the upper level. Slowly peeking in, they quickly discovered why kids were forbidden. A roaring fire illuminated a very contemporary room with some very medieval purposes, and 8 or so men in various stages of highly stylized undress. A sleek and oiled, hairless twenty-something with a powerful erection, was blind-folded and manacled to a cross beam. A bigger man in leather briefs and a chain-mail vest slowly, lightly lashed the young man's buttocks with a cane. Another man, naked but for winged, calve-laced sandals, was tied over a frame, while two others took turns tickling his erection with a feather, and pulling back his bound scrotum in order to pour hot candle wax on it. Another twink, was being penetrated orally and anally by a couple of space vampires. Loud industrial music muffled any cries of pleasure or pain. Rolling away, Paige held a hand over her mouth, stifling an eruption of laughter, while the boys flopped down with Abby, snorting and giggling. When the foursome calmed down, Paige picked herself and her sister up, to one side of the window. "Well, there's something you don't see every day," she declare, sotto voce. "Let's get back to the main event." Trevor and Harley looked at each other with knowing smiles. "Uh we'll meet you back there," Harley said. "What they're not coming with?" Abby was confused. "You guys are staying?" "Just for few minutes," Harley replied. "We'll find you, Abs." "Better not keep us waiting, boys, or I'll tan your little butts," Paige said, turning to go. "Come on, Abby, I'll explain on the way." After the girls disappeared, Trevor whispered, "You're not thinking of going in there, are you?" Harley laughed. "Hell, no. No kids allowed, anyway. But there's a spot on the other side of that Koi pond..." Harley pointed to the furthest downhill point, where the property line was defined by tall privacy hedges. As they crept through the darkness, they past the well-lit second level, which was more a normal living / dining space, filled with men having more vanilla sex. "How'd you know I wanted to get away for a minute?" Trevor whispered. Harley reached over and gave Trevor's boner a squeeze. "I had a feeling." They giggled, and finished the quick walk hand in hand. Turning to Trevor, Harley cupped the redhead's jaw with one hand, while caressing his slender thigh with the other. L.A.'s city light, reflected off car exhaust particulates, was brighter than a full moon, and it drew stark shadows from Trevor's lips meeting Harley's. Graceful osculations intersected with deeper, more passionate kissing, tongues twirling and wrapping, teeth pulling upon one another's lips. As their mouths spoke wordlessly, their rigid loins sought each other, darkly magnetic. Harley's hand slid from Trevor's hipbone, back and downward, gently goosing his bottom and squeezing his buns. Harley's other hand swam down to join its brother, and hug Trevor in. The redhead sighed, and his lips trailed to Harley's neck, kissing and gently sucking, while his hands circled around the blond's sinewy back. 
"Thank you," Trevor whispered. Harley kissed Trevor's earlobe, "For what?" "For you...For us...I dunno." "Dude, I keep telling you, I'm the lucky one." "You're definitely the naughty one," Trevor chuckled. Their lips met again, as if to argue the point, their tongues thrashing like combatants, while tightly bound bones pounded together in sharper inflection. Harley dragged Trevor down with him to the lawn. Spreading his legs widely and cocking his bent knees up with his feet flat on the ground, he pulled Trevor on him, groin to groin. His huge pre-pubescence ached within his skin-tight leggings, further crushed within the sub depths of his skimpy little briefs. He needed Trevor's hardness against his own; the friction of rubbing sticks to light up his tiny tinderboxes. Without a word, Trevor knew what to do, planting his knees in the ground, and his hands on either side of Harley's chest. Steaming pistons met and slid in a slowly grinding engine. Trevor's slender globes pulled back, and then plowed in, hard, then a little harder. Rocking back, he pumped a little faster, more fully, and the boys quietly heaved like a pair of black smith bellows. Tight cloth trapped and defined their boyhoods, polishing each other with mad purpose. Harley clutched Trevor's firm little buns once again, launching counter thrusts to meet Every. Single. Thumping. PUMP. Harley grit his teeth and grunted, while Trevor's gasps turned to whispered moans. Trevor's balls were starting to clench, and he was oh so close, his tummy itched with fire. "Gonna...Cum...Soon, Baby!" A door opened, spilling thumping industrial music, and the silhouette of a man swatting another man materialized in Harley's mind. "Do...You...Think...I'm...Naughty, Peanut!" "Uhh..uhhh...uhh...yes!" "Do...I...Need...A...Spanking?" Trevor might have held on a little longer, but the assumed innocence of the question, and the trust it implied, coupled with an image of his own hand swatting Harley's bare bottom brought a wrecking ball to his dam, and his mind and cock burst with a single solar flare. "Uhhh!" He cried again and again and again, as his cock flooded his briefs in wracking blasts, soaking through his tights, and making a milky mess that quickly dampened Harley's leggings. As his bursts died away, Trevor collapsed on his friend, perspiring in the cooling night air. "Fuck," Trevor whispered in Harley's ear. "Sorry. I couldn't hold it." "Felt like a big one, Peanut," Harley whispered, stroking the back of Trevor's hair. Trevor thought about it for a moment, and then realized it wasn't really his fault he jumped the gun. "You really are a naughty boy," he chuckled in Harley's ear, and then kissed his cheek.
 Harley grinned at him. "What are you going to do about it, dude?" "I'm gonna...give you the licking you deserve!" "A...licking?" Trevor asked, theatrically, and both boys giggled. "OK, time to be disciplined, dude." Trevor knelt, and had Harley on all fours, facing his lap. Gently guiding Harley's head toward his sopping loins, Trevor pulled up the front of his shirt and commanded, "Clean up the mess you made." "Yes sir," Harley replied, with mock severity, ready to suck every bit of juice straining through Trevor's clothes. Carefully sucking and licking the swampy tights clean for many moments, Harley's janitorial services pulled Trevor's blood back into his boyhood, as well. Harley drew down the front of Trevor's thin leggings, and slowly vacuumed the turgid front of his friend's smooth and snug black briefs. Up and down Trevor's rigid wand he sucked and slurped and licked every millimeter of sheer tenting, and what had been dry and unsoiled by semen was soon soaked with saliva. Then, Harley attacked Trevor's dry little nut pouch, sucking out sighs as the redhead pitched his head back. Trevor unconsciously ran his fingers through Harley's wig, pulling it off, then gripped the boy's hair while Harley sealed his lips around his knob once more, straining whatever he could through the redhead's undies. Trevor felt his waistband lowering and parking tightly under his nuts. Harley held him by mid-stem, pulling his cock down to a 45-degree angle, to caress its aching length. At the same time, his tongue first swabbed Trevor's freckled ivory pubic mound, then burrowed through the boy's night-darkened fire bush, cleaning any remaining sweat-salty tracings. Moments later, while stroking Trevor more fully, Harley sealed his lips directly around his friend's circumcised cap. Swirling his tongue around, he could taste a little more of Trevor's syrup begin to flow. Trevor was gently moaning in helpless, passion-fueled anguish, shuddering when Harley's mouth engulfed him to his root. Harley's cheeks and tongue worked their magic, while his head moved back and forth, increasingly faster. Unconsciously, Trevor's hips shifted into gear, slowly rocking, thrusting his rigid adolescence all the way into Harley's pie hole, then sliding back. Resting on one hand for balance, Harley could only use his other hand to gently fondle Trevor's smooth, hairless sack, then stroke him with a thumb and two fingers, just ahead of his lips. "Aaaaaaauuuuuuuuuh!" Trevor quietly wailed, "Gonna...Gonnna..." Locking his lips around Trevor's knob, Harley sucked with hurricane force, while stroking the boy in a blur. Trevor convulsed, and the shriek of a banshee poured from his wide open mouth, and his pubescence strained to vomit two thin, yet flavorful jets. And while Trevor moaned and quaked, Harley held Trevor's molten boyhood between gentle lips, while he delicately milked the last of his pulsations with a thumb and index finger. Curling around Harley's head, Trevor collapsed again, this time almost losing consciousness. Harley carefully helped his friend onto his side. Holding him his arms, Harley rocked Trevor while the boy slowly regained his breath. "Dude..."Trevor huffed, "I think you literally sucked my brains out. I have no brains left." Harley smiled and kissed Trevor tenderly. "That's because I'm a very bad boy." "Well, this time, YOU ARE going to get a licking." A wrought iron bench sat in the shadows nearby. Trevor had Harley kneel in front of it, resting his head on his folded arms on the seat. Kneeling beside Harley, Trevor pulled the bottom of the boy's shirt up over his waist. Then, he lightly caressed his friend's firm little cheeks, before hauling back and slapping one, and then the other. "Oh, is that all you've got for a bad boy like me?" Harley taunted Trevor with a giggle. "You just wait," Trevor murmured, and slowly pulled Harley's leggings down to his knees. Once again, he tickled Harley's bottom, now clad only in silky, stretchy little briefs. As his fingers feathered across Harley's sylphic mounds, lightly stroking the cleft underneath and in between, Trevor conjured a forest of goosebumps across Harley's thighs, and the boy shivered. Slap! Slap! Trevor struck each melon with the flat of his hand, much more sharply than earlier, and Harley gasped, then sighed. Grasping Harley's waistband, Trevor pulled his undies down very slowly. Intending to bare him fully, Trevor noticed Harley's briefs were snagged by a throbbing obstruction in front, and was about to free them, when he thought better of it. Harley's buttocks glowed in the L.A. night air, two slender young fruit delightfully ripe and innocent and ready for a Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Four quick slaps make Harley squeak and gasp. "Ouch, Peanut! I don't think I've been that bad." "I'm sorry, baby!" Trevor whispered, leaning forward to kiss his friend on the cheek. "Maybe this wasn't a great idea." "Oh no. I've been very naughty. Just, maybe not that naughty." "If you're sure..?" "Oh yeah," Harley replied throatily, and reached for his cock. Trevor's hand shot down to intercept Harley before he could offer himself some comfort. "No-no-no! You just earned 20 more spanks." Methodically, Trevor slow-roasted Harley's bottom, alternating stinging swats with tender caresses, until Harley was moaning and begging Trevor to stroke him. Partially complying Trevor tickled Harley's swollen length, his touch muffled through the boy's undies, never amounting to more than the caress of a gentle breeze. Harley was genuinely mewling by the 20th spank, and Trevor took pit on him. Freeing his cock from its entanglement, Trevor slid the boy's undies down to his knees. Harley's hairless, seven-inch bat, dwarfing his tiny little sack, pounded up against the bottom of the bench, demanding attention, and Trevor gave it an affectionate squeeze, but pulled away. "Oh come on, dude!" "I promised you a lickin'..." Trevor reminded his whimpering friend with a giggle. Harley's knees were bound together by his clothes, and so Trevor spread his own legs to kneel astraddle Harley's feet. He took a moment to admire Harley's lissome buttocks, muscular from running, and yet boyish and smooth as glass eggs. Spreading them apart with both hands, Trevor leaned in, and was greeted by the lingering bouquet of dance sweat. He was learning to really appreciate Harley's appetite for ass. Like a cobra striking prey, Trevor's tongue leapt from his mouth, and swabbed up one side and down the other, washing every bit, swallowing all traces of salty brine from inside Harley's pliant mounds. Then, Trevor's tongue travelled the base of Harley's valley, roaming up and back with flickering lashes, until finally halting at Harley's clenching rose. "NNNNgggaaaa!!" Harley quietly whined, softy pounding both fists and his head in frustration. Surfacing for a moment, Trevor took pity on his friend, and reached around to gently clasp him by the knob. With a surgeon's touch, he slowly masturbated Harley with his own foreskin. "Don't you dare come, Mister!" Trevor whispered, and gave him a sharp swat for emphasis. Harley grunted, and muttered something obscene in Dutch. With his free hand, Trevor pried open one half of Harley's crevice, and dove in again. His tongue was a soft force of nature, wetly churning in a circular vortex. Round and round it went, while Trevor slowly stroked, and Harley's hips rocked, eager for either more hand or more tongue, or both. Harley's jagged breathing grew into ragged moans, rising in pitch; helpless little cries of tormented ecstasy. Before Trevor could pierce Harley's tight little tunnel, he realized his friend's gates were about to fly off the hinges. Quickly bringing his other hand to Harley's shaft, Trevor kissed down to the boy's taint. With one hand flying down most of Harley's length, and the other masturbating his knob, Trevor eased his tongue between the boy's thighs and tickled the bottom of his tight little grapes. Harley gasped and, and for the first time Trevor remembered, moaned, loudly, unable to silence himself. His upper body pounded violently, spasmodically, and joyously against the the bench, while his prepubescent billowed dry fire that came from deep in his belly and ended somewhere in West Covina. Trevor's fingers slowed and then stopped as Harley's pluming pulses died away, and then the boy panted more slowly. Trevor's hands fluttered away, to caress his friend's back under his shirt, while he gently kissed Harley's inflamed butt cheeks. "Ooooh...dude," Harley whispered. "That was brutal. So intense." Trevor was pulling Harley's clothes back into place, wondering if he'd gone too far. "Was that, um, wrong?" Trevor asked, without the words he needed. "No, dude," Harley turned with a grin. Climbing to sit on the bench, he pulled Trevor up on his lap, and hugged him fiercely. "That was so right. And so weird." He paused for a second. "But maybe let's not make it a regular thing, OK?" Trevor grinned. He had fallen so hard for this boy, he could almost cry in relief that he hadn't fucked up. "We don't have to do it ever again, dude. I just love, uh, loving you." Harley's lips replied without words, and the boys melted into one another for long moments. "Maybe I'll have to give you a lickin' tomorrow afternoon," Harley whispered. Just then, his smart phone chirped. Pulling it out, he read a note from Paige: "Where u 2 @?" Chuckling, he showed Trevor the phone. Trevor grinned, and the two boys got up, straightening their clothes and wigs. "Looks like we're both in for a butt whipping." "You're the only person who gets to do that." Harley said with a grin. Changing the subject, he confided, "I wish Abby would quit hoping there's some secret straight guy inside me." "Dude,' Trevor started laughing, "While we were hanging out, Paige hit on me. I guess she didn't know about us." Harley's belly laughs almost rose above the cacophony of industrial, techno pop and crowd noises. "You blew off Paige Mathias?" Harley almost choked on his laughter. "That was Paige MATHIAS?" Trevor asked, in disbelief, shocked he'd been hanging with one of the most in-demand teenage comedy actresses. She'd won an armload of award in the last two years, and yet only now Harley matched her voice in person with her voice on screen. Wrapping his arm over Trevor's shoulders, Harley was still laughing. "I guess those Bat masks really do work." As they started climbing the hill on the hedge line, Harley needled his friend, "You gonna bone her, dude?" "Shut up!" Trevor giggled and punched the boy he loved. Unnoticed by the young couple, a visually striking figure in all-black dinner attire stood beneath a nearby tree, in the company of a bewitching companion in a flowing black gown. With long hair, both were of indeterminate sex, and each seemed to have a pair of sharp protrusions, almost horn-like, rising from their hairlines. The shape in the dinner jacket peered through a monocle at the boys, and quietly noted, "I wonder what those little devils have been up to, my dear." "Oh, it doesn't matter, love. Spare the rod, spoil the child." ===================================================================== To be continued...