Date: Tue, 31 Aug 2021 21:24:13 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: When Marcel Serves You Lemonade A middle schooler babysits his girlfriend's younger brother, discovers the boy's embarrassing problem, and shares with him the mysteries of manhood. Please keep the stream of words flowing at Nifty, and contribute what you can to keep the lights on: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html == == == == "Bonjour, Madame!" Riley Thompson said brightly, entering the Boucher kitchen. "Bonjour, Riley," Marion Boucher replied to the 13-year-old, while throwing car keys into her purse. The very attractive, 30-something, raven-haired single mother of two leaned down to kiss one of Riley's cheeks, then the other, hiding her amusement when the middle schooler struggled to keep his eyes from her breasts. "Ça va?" "Bien," Riley replied. Over the past year, with Riley spending so much time at their home, Marion spoke with the boy mostly in French, her first tongue, helping the boy excel in French class. It wasn't a very useful language in Flagstaff, Arizona, and Marion was convinced the boy was taking it just to impress her daughter. "Louise!" Marion yelled down the hallway, "Allons-y! Nous sommes en retard!" "Mais oui, Mam's," a girl's dismissive voice echoed down the distance. Marion had grown very fond of the fit little blond boy, ever since Louise had latched onto Riley at a single parents' family gathering. And though the two middle schoolers were now "dating," it was clear that Riley was still focused on sports and gaming, and seemed utterly clueless about his own striking features. At the same time, Louise was addicted to "The Baby Sitters Club," and had yet to have her first period. That both kids were physically and emotionally on the childish side of puberty left Marion unworried about STDs and birth control, at least for now. "Thank you very much, for all this, Riley" Marion said to the boy, then turned to yell down the hallway, "Louise! Se presser!" Impatient to drive her daughter to summer camp, Marion didn't bother to help Riley stumble through a conversation in rudimentary French, and continued in English, "I know you'd rather be with friends. But Marcel...He adores you. It'll be more fun for him than a sitter - and I'll pay you, anyway." "Mrs Boucher -- " Riley started to object. "Don't be silly, Riley! J'insiste." What Marion didn't realize was that her daughter's pubescent paramour was excited about spending the day with almost 10-year-old Marcel. Over time, the kid had really grown on Riley, in many ways he'd be ashamed to admit. The willowy little cutie was - like Marion and Louise - almost painfully pretty, and Riley frequently found himself staring at the boy, entranced by his grace and charm. As if on cue, the blue-eyed, elfin boy skipped into the kitchen, with his dark, collar-length hair swinging with each step. "Riley! You're here!" Marcel squealed, wrapping his arms around the older boy without embarrassment, squeezing his head into Riley's chest. "Of course, dude," Riley replied, "I promised you." Conscious of Marion's gaze, Riley returned the hug more cautiously. But if he could, he'd have sunk into the boy's embrace all day. Marcel's warm, smooth arms, so slender and tight around his torso, and his bony shoulder blades, raking through a thin, orange t-shirt into Riley's hands were making making time slip away... "Marcel, mind Riley, d'accord? Be a good boy," Marion said to her son, with an arched eyebrow. Though Riley was only a little over 3 years older than her son, Marion trusted the middle schooler to keep her son out of trouble. "Oui, Maman," Marcel groaned, rolling his eyes as he pulled away from Riley. The Bouchers' Parisian pronunciation of "yes," sounded like "way," and when Riley had tried it out in French class, he'd earned a rebuke from his teacher. Just then, Louise appeared, lugging an impossibly large expedition backpack and a duffel bag. The almost-13-year-old girl, was - like her brother - an enchantingly childish copy of her azure-eyed mother, with jet black hair, a heart-shaped face, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Though haggard, her eyes lit up when she saw Riley. "Dude, what's up?" Louise said, with a grin. Though the Bouchers had moved from Paris to New York City for a year, before arriving in Arizona, Louise and Marcel had enough residual French accent to make their American vernacular delightfully endearing. Rushing over, Riley helped Louise shrug off her backpack, exchanged kisses to each cheek, and shared a long hug. Though she didn't draw swarms of 7th grade boys like the tall girls with robustly opulent breasts, to Riley, the dark-haired girl was beauty itself. Moreover, her effervescent personality made everyone feel special. Riley was naturally shy around most girls, and it had been a mystery to him why she'd first chatted him up. But, within moments, it was like they were old friends. Ever since, they spent every lunch hour together, riding bikes after school, and hiking on weekends. After a dance, she'd lead through him his first real kiss. For months now, they'd been cautiously making out, eventually caressing each other through their clothes. Gradually, she'd let him play with her pert, barely emergent breasts, though never past her small bra cup. Louise had been hesitant to touch Riley provocatively, and it had taken months before she drew her fingers across the hardness jutting up his jeans. Eventually, she'd felt comfortable stroking it through the denim, until his face crumpled and he shook and gasped. She'd let Riley rub his palm on her crotch, dampening her panties, but never allowed him further. That came as a sort of relief to Riley, who's body ached for more, yet who was, at the same time, terrified of the sort of wet, jungly terrain he'd only see in porn. It was all so confusing, and while Riley longed to see Louise naked, his imagination was also vividly painted with boys from school. His attraction to his friends was much more than a by-product of adolescent hormones at play, and he was slowly realizing he liked boys as much as girls. Thankfully, his best friend, Mark, one of the boys with whom he'd first explored the physical enigmas of boyhood, would still shuck his clothes and fill his fingers with Riley's flesh. Unfortunately, Mark was losing his enthusiasm for gay sex itself; Riley's androgynously immature body was a proxy for all the girls Mark longed to fuck. When he and Riley kissed, it was needful affection, and not an exchange of passion. Knowing Riley's deep desires, Mark always apologized, though Riley understood his friend's growing reluctance to suck his cock, especially after Riley had started ejaculating. But that didn't stop Riley's fevered imagination from flipping between Mark and Louise, when his hands went to work at night. And over time, to his horror, little Marcel had appeared in his fantasies, as well. Like his sister, Marcel was beautiful, almost angelic. Unlike Louise, Marcel was all boy, ready to wrestle and rough house whenever Riley came by. And also unlike his sister, Marcel hadn't outgrown his love of running around naked, regardless of who was visiting. Unembarrassed, he always skinny-dipped in the backyard pool, while everyone else wore swim suits. Thankfully, Riley wore underwear underneath his board shorts, which constrained his uncontrollable erections when Marcel jumped on him; rubbery 5th grader flesh and diminutive genitals squelching across the 13-year-old. All of which made it an easy choice to spend the day alone with Marcel. He didn't plan on taking advantage of the young, innocent cherub. But he hoped for some more pool wrestling, to add to his spank bank. "Be careful out there, Lou," Riley said to the girl, while helping load the car. His imagination flowered with the dangers she might face, while backpacking across Utah, for the next couple of weeks. "You just be careful no girls get a hold of this," she whispered with a smirk, discretely squeezing one of his butt cheeks. Riley laughed, though he was always frustrated that she teased him mercilessly, and the two exchanged a brief kiss. While the two young teens chatted, Marion was having a long conversation with her son in French that Riley couldn't make out. All he could tell was that the younger boy was embarrassed and annoyed, and relieved when the family car pulled away. "OK, so what was that about?" Riley said, flopping an arm across Marcel's shoulders. Marcel was quiet while they walked back into the house, finally saying, "She doesn't want me by myself for even a second. If you go inside, I have to follow you." Evidently, Marion was worried about strangers in vans. But there was something else Marcel was too embarrassed to mention. "No worries, my hombre." the older boy replied. "So, let's set up that lemonade stand." Though almost 10 years old, Marcel avidly sought a younger boy's American Dream: selling lemonade on the street, and Riley didn't mind helping. Sure, Riley might take some shit, if friends saw him, while riding by on their bikes. But it would be worth it, to have Marcel to himself. If only he could understand his attraction to this younger boy. Marcel seemed different from his peers. So graceful. So alluring. Long, graceful legs, and round little globes that made even the baggiest jeans and cargo shorts conform to his shapely bottom. And the worldly boy seemed much more mature than other 5th graders Riley knew, the lemonade stand not withstanding. The boys had only to set up a folding table and chairs, and put up a cardboard sign. Then wait. And wait. It was more than an hour before a car stopped, and Marcel made his first sale to a charitable older woman. In the Arizona heat, the boys started using too much of their supply. Riley suggested they switch to water, and Marcel brought out a large bottle for the boys to gulp. During the long periods between sales, Riley introduced Marcel to his Magic cards, and the younger boy gladly fell into a world of spells and fantastical creatures. But he had to frequently break away from play to use the bathroom. "Why don't you prop the door open?" Riley asked, baffled that the boy had to unlock the self-latching door every time he needed to get into the house. "Ma mère, she wants the house always locked," Marcel said, with a shrug, then scampered inside. It made sense that Marion was nervous about home intruders, after her husband's death in Brooklyn. That violent tragedy had spurred the French family to move far away from New York City. Sometime later, the boys made sandwiches, and carried them outside to eat. "You don't get rich selling lemonade," Marcel observed, his mouth full of food. "Nope, dude, you don't," Riley agreed. `But you're having fun, right?" "With you, I am," Marcel replied, and Riley grinned. Marcel was honest and sweet, and he was so beautiful, Riley was overcome with desire. He wanted the boy so badly, it scared him. If he could wait to masturbate until bedtime, his climax would be mind-melting. He had to derail his desire, and concentrated on Magic, the Gathering. Finishing his lunch, Marcel stood up and said, "I have to go, again." "You hit the bathroom, a lot," Riley observed, and immediately regretted it when Marcel blushed. But before he could apologize, Marcel bravely explained, "I have a small bladder. It'll grow normally by the time I'm your age. But right now..?" Marcel shrugged. "Can I have the key, please?" Riley looked at him, puzzled. "I don't have it." Marcel's eyes grew wide. "I put it on the counter, right by you. I thought...Oh no!" "Is there another way in?" Riley asked, dread creeping into his voice. Marcel thought for a moment. "Oui! There's another key hidden by the pool. Help me over the fence, please? Hurry!" The boys scurried to the high fence connected to the side of the single-story house. Riley interlaced his fingers to give Marcel a boost. The younger boy was only 15 pounds or so lighter than he, and Riley struggled to hoist Marcel's foot up high enough so the boy could reach the wooden pickets at the top. Marcel swung one leg over, then grunted in pain as a picket dragged across his groin. Swinging his other leg over, the pocket of his cargo pants got caught. "Non!" Marcel cried out in frustration. Before Marcel could straighten things out, Riley heard the sound of tearing fabric, then Marcel disappeared over the other side. "Merde!" Marcel ferociously yelled. A great day was going downhill, fast. Riley quickly hid his cards and their money box under a shrub, and dragged a chair over to the fence to climb it. Careful not to rip his own shorts, Riley dropped down onto the side passage below. Though Marcel was hidden from view around back, Riley could hear the boy's grumbled frustrations. Racing to the back, Riley found Marcel frantically searching through a rock garden, adjacent to the pool. "I can't find it!" Marcel cried out, in despair. "It's OK, dude," Riley replied, "You can pee on the shrubs." Marcel struggled to unbutton his shorts, then whimpered with rage and humiliation. Riley watched the front of the boy's canvas shorts darkly drench, and his legs and socks were soon awash as well. One leg of his shorts was ripped almost to the waist, exposing one skinny thigh, and about the only thing Marcel wore that appeared dry was two inches of underwear on his hip. Marcel sobbed uncontrollably, and Riley wrapped him in his arms. "Shhh...shhhhh...It's OK, Marcel," hugging the boy tightly, rocking him gently. Slowly, Marcel's weeping ebbed away, and he hugged Riley in return. At the same time, Riley felt the front of his own shorts growing damp, as they wicked up a lot of the younger boy's urine. Riley knew Marcel was drowning in shame, and leaned back to look him in the eye. "It happens, dude," Riley said, telling the boy he'd had a couple of accidents in school. Of course, he didn't mention the last time was in first grade. "Yes, but it happens too much to me," Marcel replied. Haltingly, he explained that before leaving, his mother had nagged him to make sure he proactively used the toilet. "I'm gonna call your mom and ask where the spare key is." Marcel looked alarmed. "Are you going to tell her..?" Riley smiled. "No. It'll be our secret, Marcie." "Marcie?" The French boy replied, with a trace of a giggle. "That's a girl's name, non?" Riley laughed. It hadn't occurred to him. "Sorry. Mar-cel," he said, drawing out the boy's name. "I kind of like it, though," Marcel replied. "If it's from you," he added, quietly. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Riley could almost swear there was a rich emotional depth in Marcel's tone: one that mirrored Riley's feelings. If nothing else, it would add to his fantasy, that night. But for the moment, he discretely readjusted his growing erection, and pulled out his phone. After a brief conversation with Marion, Riley found a hollow, false rock, behind a cactus, which contained a spare key. In the kitchen, Riley helped the young boy out of his filthy clothes. He forced his eyes away from the Marcel's wetly glistening loins, not wishing to stare at the soft, pale, uncut inch-worm hanging over a little, round lump, barely emergent from his body. Marcel was embarrassed to see that he'd soiled Riley's clothes, as well. As Riley added to the heap of laundry with his own clothes, he caught Marcel studying him, especially when he peeled his underpants down. Riley's cock had wilted to a 4-inch semi hardness, surrounded by utterly hairless flesh. "You have no hair?" Marcel asked, guilelessly. Now it was Riley's turn to blush. "Not yet, Marcie." "It's very big," the younger boy replied, and Riley giggled. "Not really. Your's will probably be twice as big, when you're 13. Maybe as long as my arm. Or maybe an elephant's trunk." Riley bent down, resting his elbow on crotch, and waved his forearm up and down, while blowing through his pursed lips, imitating an elephant trumpeting. Both boys erupted with peels of laughter, waving their "trunks," and marching around like elephants. "I'll throw our stuff in the washing machine, and you start up the shower," Riley said. "We will take one together?" Marcel asked, with hope-filled eyes. "Of course, dude. It'll be faster." As Riley trotted through the house, and loaded their laundry in the washing machine, he had a tough time fighting his re-engorging bone. When he arrived at the bathroom, he lost the battle. Marcel greeted him with a smile, unabashed with a 3-inch erection pointing diagonally from his slender pubic mound. "It is very proud," Marcel said, gleefully pointing at his rigid prong. The extra skin that had hung below Marcel's flaccid tip was now gone, and his foreskin tightly defined the contours of his glans. "And so is your's!" Marcel grinned at the five inch rod throbbing from from Riley's bald loins, above a small, round sack. "I can do this," Marcel added, flexing his cock up and down. Riley laughed. "So can I, dude," he replied, deliberately wagging his rod back at the boy. "Let's get in the shower." While Marcel stood under the warm downpour, Riley soaped up a washcloth, and knelt on the shower floor. Starting with one of the boy's feet, Riley scrubbed upward, washing every inch of the Marcel's willowy leg and hip. After scrubbing the other leg, Riley carefully washed the boy's pubic mound, then looked up. "Should I wash everything?" Riley asked, cautiously. This was a moment freighted with danger. He'd never intended to touch Marcel. And yet, fate had brought him here, on his knees, eying the boy's throbbing hardness. "S'il vous plaît?" Marcel replied, with a broad smile, and his little prong wagged invitingly. Very carefully, Riley ran the washcloth with a forefinger, up and back on the top of the boy's erection, and then each side, and underneath. Riley treasured the sensation of rigid flesh through the terrycloth. "Don't forget to wash here," Marcel said, reaching down to retract his foreskin. The boy's cherry-shaped glans was almost purple, and Riley ached to taste it. "But don't use the cloth. It's very...ticklish there." Riley could have screamed with joy, tossing aside the washcloth and soaping his hands. Very carefully, he held the cherub's bone at the base, and it was warm and hard, and yet pliant. With his thumb and index finger, Riley washed around and around Marcel's tender nozzle. The 9-year-old sighed, and closed his eyes. "That feels good, Riley," he chirped. Things had changed, and Riley knew Marcel wanted his gentle caresses. Soaping his hands again, he rubbed Marcel's length, while washing Marcel's tiny scrotum. Riley tickled each testicle, though both had turtled almost within the boy's body. As Riley rubbed the boy firmly and deliberately, now with a thumb and index finger, Marcel moaned, his high pitched notes echoing off the bathroom tiles. They became rhythmic, piping with every stroke. When Riley stopped to get more soap, Marcel whined, "Please Riley. Don't stop doing that." Riley chuckled. "OK, dude. Get ready for something special." Adding a third finger to his grip, Riley sped up the pace. At the same time, he caressed the boy's thighs and tummy, and then his bottom. "Oh - oh - OH it tickles! C'est fantastique!" Riley stroked him even faster, squeezing Marcel's little buttocks firmly with his free hand, then rubbing the boy's nuts with his fingertips. "Something...IS...OHHHH!" Marcel's slender body convulsed, and he squealed loudly, as his loins exploded with tingles. Marcel's knees buckled, and Riley hugged him tightly, relishing the pulsations in his fingers. At last, Marcel's spasms died away, and he rested against Riley, his body languid with joy, and his mind numbed with awe. Riley rose to his feet, hugging the boy properly under the shower, then leaned down half a foot to kiss Marcel's forehead. "What happened, Riley? It felt amazing!" The older boy chuckled. He had been about the same age as Marcel when one of his friends had introduced him to masturbation. Caressing Marcel's back, while still gently embracing the boy, Riley explained how boys pleasured themselves. "Do all boys do it?" "There are two kinds of dudes, Marcie: boys that jerk off, and boys that lie about jerking off." "It's so lit, Riley," Marcel replied. Snaking his hand up between them, and taking hold of Riley's slender 5 inches, he asked, "Can I rub you?" "Oh yeah, Marcie. Please jerk it." Stepping back a little to gaze at the rigid snake in his grasp, Marcel let Riley guide his fist along the shaft for a few moments, before taking full control. "If you play with my balls with your other hand, it'll feel even better." Marcel was eager to explore Riley's relatively larger scrotum, hairless like his own, but freely hanging from the adolescent's body. He squeezed a little too hard, and Riley winced. "Oh, I'm sorry," Marcel said, releasing the boy's nuts. He'd been kicked in the balls once, and hoped he hadn't hurt Riley like that. "It's OK, Marcie. Just be gentle with them. It's feeling savage." Moments later, Riley was moaning from the slippery friction on his stalk, and the gentle pressure on his nuts. That he was surrendering himself to this younger boy, so lithe and innocent and beautiful, only made the experience more profound. Itchy tingles raced up and back with the small hand pushing and pulling from his root to his head, and the friction demanded more friction. "Faster, Marcie! Oh yeah!" Marcel stroked and squeezed and stroked and squeezed, and ribbons of muscles contracted inside Riley, tightening his balls. "OOOOO-uuuuuh! YES! YES! YES!" Riley cried out, as his cock erupted with sparkling bursts. In the shower downpour, neither boy could see the thin jets of watery seed ejecting from Riley's bald pubescence. But every tingly detonation made him squeeze his bowels, trying to eject everything in him. He became dizzy, losing any sense of time or space, until, at last, the pulsations died away. "Oh, that was...stop, Marcie," Riley huffed, explaining how tender a boy's cock became after ejaculation. A year ago, when he was still cumming drily, he could have let the boy rub him through 4 or 5 back-to-back orgasms. But not so any more. "You made sperm?" Riley smiled. "Yeah. But I don't shoot much, yet." "I wish I could see it." "Maybe later, Marcie," Riley added, wryly. "Here, turn around." Dropping back to his knees, Riley used the washcloth to scrub the back of the boy's legs, and firm little buns. Then, he washed inside Marcel's crevice, and the boy sighed. Dropping the wash cloth and using only a soapy finger, Riley rubbed around Marcel's tight little rose. "That feels good," Marcel said, quietly. "You can do it some more. If you want." Riley took his time, doing to Marcel what he like to do to himself, in the shower and in his bed. Eventually, his finger wormed inside Marcel, and the boy gasped when Riley found his tiny prostate. He gently fingered the younger boy long enough to give Marcel a taste of anal pleasure. When Riley withdrew his finger, Marcel huffed with disappointment. While he cleaned his own hind quarters, Marcel turned around, and Riley smiled at seeing the boy's little cock fully engorged, once more. "I would have washed you, there," Marcel said, with a mischievous smile. "Too late, my dude," Riley replied. "I don't want to sell any more lemonade, Riley." "Me either, Marcie," the older boy replied, as they climbed out. Marcel pulled his own towel off a rack. "More towels in here?" Riley asked, pointing to the closet. "Yes -- Wait - Stop!" Marcel cried, as Riley opened the door. But it was too late. Two shelves were piled high with folded towels, another with toilet paper and tissues, while a third had stacks of disposable pull-up diapers. A bottle of mineral oil and a canister of powder sat to the side. Riley pretended not to notice, grabbed a towel, and closed the door. But turning around, he could see tears falling from Marcel's eyes. "You saw," Marcel sobbed. "Marcie, I didn't see anything wrong." "You must think... I'm a big baby," Marcel cried, his body wracked with weeping. Riley embraced his young friend, and squeezed him tightly. "No I don't, dude," Riley replied. "Like you said, you have a little bladder." Eventually, Marcel's sobbing died away, and he rested in his older friend's arms. "I only have to wear them at night," Marcel explained quietly, unfolding himself from Riley, and letting the 13-year-old towel him dry. Only Marcel's best friend, Pat, knew of his nocturnal wetting, and that was the only boy he invited for sleepovers. Now, Riley was the second boy to know his well-guarded secret. "It doesn't change anything, dude," Riley said."You're my friend. I like hanging out with you." "Really, Riley?" Marcel asked. "I'm your friend? Not just your girlfriend's little brother?" Oh boy, did he like this kid - so much so that he'd forgotten all about Louise. "Yeah, Marcie. You're my buddy." The boys hugged again, then pondered a bigger issue: all of Riley's clothes were in the wash, and Marcel's wouldn't fit him. The teenager had a thought, and giggled. Reaching into the closet, Riley grabbed a pull-up, and unfurled the absorbent garment. It was very different from the kind his toddler cousins wore. With sophisticated graphics, rather than a cartoon character or dinosaur, the "bed wetting underwear" was obviously meant for older kids. "This is sweet, dude," Riley said. "I'll do." Marcel's jaw dropped, and then he laughed, watching Riley pull it on. Riley was still small for his age, and he wasn't surprised that the diaper fit. In the mirror, it looked like he wore thickly padded briefs. He was surprised that they didn't make much of a crinkly sound. Trotting into his room, Marcel pulled on some underpants and shorts, then rejoined the older boy. Borrowing Marion's bathrobe, Riley hurriedly helped Marcel bring everything inside. All the time, Riley prayed no one he knew would drive by and see him in the almost transparent, pale-pink, woman's gown. Enjoying the air conditioning, Marcel suggested they watch an English Premiership football match on TV, and Riley happily agreed, letting the younger boy provide color commentary on soccer teams he didn't follow. Riley flopped down on the sofa length-wise, with Marcel lying in front of him. With both boys shirtless, Riley slowly caressed the boy's torso, no longer nervous about fondling his young friend with open affection and desire. Tweaking the boy's nipples, he felt Marcel shiver and heard him sigh. The 9-year-old reached back, fondling Riley's smooth, firm, adolescent thighs. "Thank you," Marcel said. "For what?" Riley asked, rubbing the boy's navel with his fingertip. "For being my friend," Marcel replied. "And for not laughing at me." He paused, giggled, and added, "And for showing me how to `jerk it.' That's so awesome." "It's a totally natural thing," Riley replied. "But it's a secret boy thing you don't talk about. I mean, everyone knows guys do it. We just don't advertise it. And keep what you and I did between us." "Why?" Riley sighed. "It's...difficult to explain. Boys doing things like this is kind of gay." "So? What's the problem? My family doesn't care about gay people." "Well...your sister might care that you and her boyfriend did gay things together." "Oh...Yes," Marcel paused to think. "Are we gay?" "I think I'm what's called `bisexual' - I like boys and girls. Actually, I think I like boys more than girls. I dunno, it's difficult to figure out. Anyway, you probably won't know if you're gay or straight or whatever until you're my age. It doesn't really matter, I guess. Boys can just be really excited - horny - and want that special feeling you got at the end." "The orgasm?" Marcel asked, recalling their earlier discussion. "Yeah, boys can just want an orgasm real bad, and do it with other boys." Pausing for a moment, Marcel asked quietly, "Do you and Louise do it?" Technically, Riley wasn't lying when said, "She's never touched my boner. We've never even been naked together." The closest she'd been to his flesh was stroking him through his stretchy underpants. "Huh, well, what do you do with her?" "Isn't that a littler personal, Marcie?" Riley whispered. His right hand was slithering into the boy's canvas shorts. Feeling his older friend's fingers sneaking into his underpants, Marcel squealed and squirmed, but also wanted his touch. "Aren't you getting a little personAAAAAH?!!" Marcel squeaked and cackled with laughter, as Riley's fingers found his quivering little bone, and the smaller boy automatically curled tightly. Then, he rolled over, to face Riley, which twisted the older boy's wrist, forcing Riley to withdraw his hand. At the same time, Marcel gripped the front of Riley's diaper with a full hand, squeezing the rigid pole trapped within. "You've got another boner!" "Of course I do," Riley whispered, running his fingers through the boy's longish hair, and enjoying the tight pressure on his rigid tool. "You're a total hottie, Marcie. You're even cuter than Louise." "Really - what do you and Louise do together?" Marcel pressed Riley, while squeezing the older boy to impossible hardness. "We kiss a lot," Riley whispered. "Ewwww!" Marcel squeaked and giggled. "It's a lot of fun, dude," Riley replied. "Wanna try it?" "Not with Louise," Marcel said emphatically, making Riley laugh. "I didn't mean with -- " "I know," Marcel said, smiling coyly. Riley leaned forward, and Marcel's puckered lips torpedoed to the older boy's mouth, fiercely and yet chaste. "Whoa, easy, there, buddy," Riley whispered, with a chuckle. "Slow down. Let me show you." Riley stared into the boy's azure eyes, stroking one side of his heart-shaped jaw for a moment, and slowly rested his lips on Marcel's. The heat and electricity surging through this simple touch made Marcel momentarily forget about the big, padded hardness in his hand. His eyes closed as he melted into the gentle sensations Riley created. He'd only ever known kissing as a quick signal of affection, and his world opened with his mouth. Tenderly, lingeringly, Riley coached the younger boy, sometimes sharing gentle laughs and correcting the course. Time passed as Marcel started to appreciate something of the depths of what people could share through kissing. From watching movies and TV, he wasn't surprised when Riley's tongue entered his mouth, though until that moment, he'd always been disgusted by the idea of sharing saliva. However, as his passion mounted, Marcel's apprehension dissipated. He loved the sensation of Riley's tongue dancing with his own, and he took a turn in Riley's mouth, adoring the the vague taste of peanut butter. And then he felt Riley's fingers opening his shorts, then grasping his raging, needful hardness through his snug little briefs. Marcel moaned into the older boy's mouth, while his whole body quaked. Meanwhile, Riley's brain was spinning like a top. The boy he was kissing, caressing, plying with fingers and lips, was like Louise - but so much more. He was eager, and goofy, and oh so very sexy. Even better: he had a cock, and though it was half the size of Riley's, it felt like it was made for his hand. It was warm, and succulent, hard and yet rubbery. Riley was now sure boys were more fun to kiss and fondle than girls. At least this boy was. Copying Riley, Marcel began stroking the older boy, albeit, through a diaper, and with a full fist. It was difficult to focus on kissing and rubbing, but after a while, his hand was a reflexive metronome, while he concentrated on nibbling Riley's lips, and scouring the older boy's teeth with his tongue. And then Riley's fingers slid through his underwear fly, to stroke his meat directly with a thumb and forefinger, and his mind went blank for a moment. Marcel redoubled his efforts, polishing Riley's wood with its constraining padding as fast as he could. "Uh..Uhhh...UHHH!" Riley pulled way to moan in Marcel's ear. "If you keep going, you'll make me...wet this thing." "You're going to pee?" Marcel huffed, still baffled by biology. If he weren't so close to climaxing, Riley would have laughed. As it was, the textured friction on his cock was making him pant. "No, goofus! Gonna...shoot cum...gonna orgasm!" "I wanna see!" Marcel insisted, halting his handiwork for a moment, so Riley could lay flat on his back, and the younger boy could kneel astride one of the middle-schooler's thighs. Marcel pulled down the front of the diaper below the older boy's now-tightly drawn, hairless scrotum. "C'est énorme," Marcel muttered, studying the prominent vein running up one side of Riley's 5-inch adolescence, then gripping it with both of his little hands. Rubbing Riley's rod quickly, Marcel watched the boy's mushroom-shaped knob ooze clear syrup, and let it drool onto his upper fist. "Are you making sperm, Riley?" Marcel asked. "Are you having an orgasm?" "Yes!" Riley huffed. "No! Go faster Marcel!" At Riley's urging, Marcel's hands were pistons, and in moments, muscles strained from the young teen's anus to his nuts. "Aaaahhhhh!" Riley couldn't help but cry out, with rich, itchy fire racing through his cock, and a thin jet of clear juice shooting up his torso. It felt so good it almost hurt. Riley clamped his mouth closed, and grunted through gritting teeth, while his cock strained to vomit a second volley, and his hips squirmed involuntarily. His fists pounded on the couch. His cock silently screamed 3 or four more times, drooling small drops, and at last, it died away. As before, Riley had to stop Marcel's furious pumping, but let the boy hold him while he softened. "Now that...was an orgasm!" Riley huffed. "You made me cum so hard, dude." Marcel swelled with pride. Releasing Riley's member, the boy held his semen-spattered fingers up to his nose. It smelled a little like bread. Riley scooped up what little he'd ejected on his torso with an index finger, and swallowed it. Grinning at Marcel's wide-eyed shock, Riley explained, "It tastes good. I mean, I think so." Marcel extended his tongue to his fingers, tentatively touching the tip to a droplet. It tasted a little salty, but otherwise inoffensive, and he quickly licked his fingers clean, like a big boy would. "That looked very savage!" Marcel said. "I wish I could make sperm." "You will, Marcie," Riley replied. "In a couple of years. But for now, you don't need to worry about cleaning up a mess." While he caught his breath, and wallowed in post-orgasmic torpor, Riley answered Marcel's questions, including why he'd drooled pre-cum. "You're a really good kisser, Marcie," Riley mused, combing fingers through the boy's jet black hair, once more. "You know what we call kissing with our tongues?" Marcel shook his head, and dragged Riley's hand to his mouth, to plant his lips on the palm. "We call it `French Kissing,' or `Frenching.'" Marcel's eyes grew wide, and then he laughed. "No way!" "It's true," Riley solemnly swore. "What do you call it France?" Marcel shrugged. "Kissing with a tongue," he replied as if it were as obvious as the color of the sky, and Riley chuckled. At Riley's suggestion, Marcel got up and shed what little clothing he had on, while the older boy pulled up his diaper. "Sit up here," Riley said, telling the naked 9-year-old to sit on his upper chest. Marcel's 3-inch boy flesh throbbed with his heart beat, so fiercely it could have wrecked a piñata. Riley took Marcel's tip between a thumb and forefinger, and used his other fingers to probe and fondle the boy's tiny testicles. Riley carefully pushed Marcel's foreskin back, and then pulled it forth, envious of the boy's unsullied flesh. It'd be such fire to rub mine like this, he thought. One of his friends had been uncircumcised, and had shown Riley how to tease an uncut glans. After a few moments, Marcel's eyes shut, and his face looked pained, but the boy's moans belied his expression. Riley continued stroking the boy's spongey head with its hood for a few more moments, delighting in Marcel's squirming. Then, he held it by the root, and pursed his lips around the skinned-back knob. "Whaaaaahhh!" Marcel gasped, and his eyes flew open. "You put it -- AAAHHH!" Riley swabbed circles around Marcel's tender nozzle, then sucked on it for a few moments, while stroking the stem with a thumb and forefinger. His other hand was rubbing from the boy's thighs, up to his tummy, and back. God he loved sucking cock. It was a blinding realization. Sure, he'd always enjoyed nuzzling on Mark's rigid adolescence, and savored his friend's thicker, salty jizz. But with his best friend, it had grown so transactional, trading orgasm for orgasm, that it disgorged the simple joys of licking and kissing and sucking another boy's turgid organ, making him moan with anguished joy. And he really loved this angelic boy's prong moving back and forth along his tongue, and against his cheeks. Maybe he loved his nose pressing into Marcel's utterly hairless, slender pubic mound more than anything else. Riley certainly wasn't thinking about Louise, when he switched from sucking her brother's length, to licking and kissing the boy's scrotal lump. He treasured the sight of Marcel's head flying back, and the sound of the boy's high pitched mewling, while Riley sucked on each tiny testicle, and masturbated Marcel's tender tumescence. He knew Marcel was very close, when he resumed sucking up and down the little throbbing limb, and Marcel's hips started rocking on their own. "Oooooh! Ohhhh! Oooh!" Marcel's moans piped in time with Riley's head bobbing back and forth. Riley sucked him harder, faster, making sure his tongue scrubbed the underside, rolling Marcel's foreskin to and fro. Moments later, the tickles in Marcel's little boyhood burned with fire, and he involuntarily shoved himself forward, gripping Riley's hair with both hands. He cried out loudly, lost in the intense feeling of wet heat rippling around him. Riley felt the boy's cock kick several times in his mouth, and he stopped sucking, letting the boy's spent little flesh soften in his slack-jawed mouth. Marcel slumped over Riley's head for a moment, panting. "Oh, merde!" Marcel muttered, scooting his hips down. Lying chest-to-chest on the older boy, Marcel peered dizzily at Riley, returning the boy's lazy smile, then, gave him a tender, but lengthy kiss on the lips. "That was....so lit, Riley." Marcel sighed, then gave the young teen another kiss. "I can not believe you put it in your mouth!" "I love sucking dick, Marcie. It's called a `blow job.'" The younger boy had heard the term before, though he found the expression confusing. "I loved it, too, Riley," Marcel replied, laying one side of his head on the older boy's chest. "Can we do it again?" "Anytime you want, dude," Riley replied. Rolling off Riley so the boy could spoon around him, Marcel felt exhaustion overcoming him. The older boy absently caressed Marcel's thighs, tummy and chest, letting post-orgasmic bliss take them both. Only a few moments later, they fell deeply asleep for the rest of the game. Riley was riding his bike along the rim of the Grand Canyon. The seat was grinding into crotch, with the rhythm of his pedaling feet. He was achingly hard, and it felt so good, and suddenly, he was no longer on the trail, but flying across the Grand Canyon, and his bicycle seat was pumping him ever higher. His penis was a rocket and he was flying into the sky. The sky melted away, and Riley was again on the couch, but lying on his back, and Marcel was sitting beside him. Marcel was rubbing Riley's rigid pubescence through the diaper with a full fisted grip. The soft, absorbent pad was creating the most exquisite friction on his rock-hard tool. His breathing grew heavy, his chest undulated. "Uh, Marcccellll, you naughty boy!" Riley heaved, with a smile. "Faster! Do it faster, please!" The younger boy grinned, concentrating on his work, gripping hard and buffing fast. His hand was a blur, and the room echoed with the rustling of cellulose, and Riley's moans. In moments, the 13-year-old felt muscles pulling in his loins. Riley was at the brink, and he spread his legs wider, offering himself to his young friend, helpless in the boy's grasp. "Maar...Marcie...play with my...balls with...your other hand!" Marcel quickly reached between Riley's slender thighs, groping and rubbing the bottom of the diaper's gusset. "Can I put your zizi in my mouth --" "TOO LATE!!" Riley wailed, as his hips flew up, thrusting against Marcel's hand. His cock detonated, and waves of plasmatic tingles rippled out his rod. His cock pulsated 5 or six times, and he smashed his head back against the couch cushions with each detonation. When, at last, his climax faded, and he stopped Marcel's hand, what little boy juice he'd ejected was quickly absorbed in the fancy pull-up. "Oh fuck, Marcie," Riley sighed, catching his breath. "That's a hell of a wake-up, dude," Riley said, as he wallowed in the afterglow. "Sometimes, at night, when I get hard, I rub it on the mattress a little," Marcel said. "Now I'll do it until I orgasm." "If you do it tonight, pretend it's me rubbing your dick, and I'll jerk off thinking about you," Riley replied, returning the boy's enthusiastic nod with a grin. "You finally made me wet this thing," Riley added. Marcel laughed, and shook his head. "That is not wet, Riley. I should know." Riley chuckled. Then he realized he really needed to drain his bladder. "I gotta hit the can, dude, or I really will soak this diaper." Marcel's smile grew wide. "Do it, Riley. Pee in the couche - the nappie." Riley laughed, and started to get up, but Marcel was serious. "Please? I want to see another boy do it...I want to see YOU do it." "Really?" Riley asked, screwing his face up with perplexity. "Uh-huh," the 9-year-old replied, his smile growing wider. His blue eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light, and Riley realized he'd do just about anything for this boy. "OK, but you have to SWEAR not to tell ANYONE," Riley cautioned the boy. If it got out, it'd be even worse than news he'd sucked the 5th-grader's cock. Marcel gave his solemn oath, tightly binding the boys in a deeper union of trust. Still, Riley wasn't sure he could urinate with someone studying his loins from a foot away, much less pee all over himself. But he closed his eyes, and eventually, he let it flow. It felt marvelous. His groin was flooded with wet, gratifying heat. It was like lowering himself into a bath. "Wow!" Marcel muttered. His eyes grew wide as the diaper continued to expand. The white areas in front took on a slightly yellowish hue, and Marcel reached down to feel the diaper, while it bloated before his eyes. And it kept filling, distending well beyond what Marcel woke up to. "Incroyable," he whispered. "Ahhh," Riley said. "That was awesome." It really had been. He actually liked the warm, wet sensation, though it quickly dissipated. In fact, towards the end, it had made his cock twitch. "But now, I gotta get out of this thing," Riley said, starting to get up. "Non-non-non," Marcel said, pushing the older boy's chest down. "You must first pay the toll," he added, with a mischievous grin. Marcel sat down on Riley's soggy lap. His fully re-engorged, 3-inch wand waved at Riley, summoning the boy's fingers. Riley chuckled. "Naughty little dude," he murmured, as he reached for the naked boy's junk with both hands. While tickling the boy's submerged testicles with his left index finger, he stroked the boy's knob with it's foreskin. "Oooooh, Riley!" Marcel cooed. "You make me feel so good. "Marcie, I really like you. I want to make you feel good all the time," the older boy replied, sincerely. He was now gently twisting Marcel's foreskin a few degrees with each up stroke, and a few degrees opposite on the down stroke, making the boy shiver. Marcel's eyes were closed, and his breathing grew heavy. Riley pulled the boy's shoulders down, so he could seal his lips around one of the boy's nipples. Riley gently nibbled on it, then tickled it with his tongue tip, and Marcel squealed and his eyes flew open in surprise. Riley's slow, rhythmic rubbing never faltered, while he kissed across the boy's skinny chest, to suck and lick and nibble on the other nipple. Marcel was shaking, and Riley knew the boy teetering on the precipice, and so he was surprised when the blue-eyed brunette stopped his hand. "Will you...suck it again, Riley, please?" Riley grinned. "Mais oui, my dude," he replied, with an atrocious accent that made Marcel laugh. "Get up here," Riley said, patting his chest. But just before Marcel could take the position, Riley's phone rang. Though it was a few feet away, he could see Marion's name and picture photo on the screen. "Shit!" Riley huffed. "Double shit!" Marcel added. "That's not really a thing, Marcie," Riley said, with a chuckle. Riley swiped the answer icon, and held the phone to his ear. "Allo, Marion?" Riley said, expecting another French tutorial while Marcel's mom checked in. "Riley. Are you boys home?" Marion replied. Since she was speaking in English, Riley knew it was something important she wanted him to understand immediately. "Yeah, Mrs. Boucher. Been home all day," the boy replied. "Good. So, I've been in an accident -- don't worry, I'm fine. No one was hurt. But the car? She's a wreck." "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," Riley replied. "I'm glad you're OK." "The problem is that I won't be able to return until tomorrow. I've called your mother, and asked if Marcel can stay with your family tonight. I'm very sorry about the imposition." "It's no imposition, Mrs. Boucher," Riley replied, truthfully. He could have done cartwheels, if he knew how. "He's my amigo." "I'm very grateful. However, there is something you need to know about Marcel," Marion said, slowly and carefully. "He has a...developmental delay that makes it difficult for him to control his bladder at night." Marion paused, and Riley replied, "He's already told me all about it, Mrs. B." Though skipping past Marcel's accident, Riley told her briefly that he'd stumbled on the boy's pull-ups while looking for something in the bathroom. "Is he...upset?" Marion asked gravely. "Almost no one knows." "Um...he was, for a second. Then I pulled one on and told him it was no big deal." Marion gasped, and then laughed. "You wore une couche? For Marcel?! Mon Dieu, it's no wonder Louise likes you so much." While Riley was elevated to rock star status, in Marion's world, a sense of guilt stabbed at the boy. Louise. Was he cheating on her..? "Is Marcel available? May I speak with him?" Marion asked. "Oui," Riley replied, pronouncing it like a Parisian, and handed to phone to Marcel. For the next five minutes, Marcel spoke rapid-fire, slang-filled French that Riley could barely follow. But it was punctuated with a lot of laughter before the boy handed the phone back to Riley, to continue his conversation. "Your mother will pick you boys up at 5 PM. Can you help Marcel pack a bag?" "Mais oui, Mrs. B," Riley replied, and after discussion some logistics with Marion, he ended the call. Glancing at the time on his phone, Riley realized his mother would be arriving in 20 minutes. "Looks like I'll have to give you a rain check on that blow job, Marcie," Riley said, "Mom's coming soon, and we gotta bounce. I need to jump in the shower, again." "What is a `rain check?'" Marcel asked climbing off Riley. By then, the boy's erection had faded away. Riley chuckled, and as he waddled down the hall to Marcel's room, in a diaper soggy with his own downpour, he explained the figure of speech. The younger boy's disappointment dissolved in a flood of eager expectation for the night ahead. ================ To be continued...