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Nifty - Gay - Young Friends - Red

 
Date: Mon, 29 Nov 1999 00:49:21 -0800 (PST)
From: Jeffrey Redmond <redjeffrey@yahoo.com>
Subject: Red

Ok, here is my first stab at writing something for the nifty archives. I
have been reading them for about a year and I am very impressed. The
following is a real account (as I like to remember it) of the beginning of
my first, and to date, only sexual relationship. This is part 1. There is
more, I just haven't written it yet. Please let me know what you think at
redjeffrey@yahoo.com.


Red

I spent late summers of my teenage years at my father's apple orchards. His
property near the Columbia River Gorge had once been a huge apple growing
operation, with orchards for miles around. He had outbuildings that housed
and fed hundreds of migrant workers who came every year to pick and crate
the apples, and load them on the trucks to market. But by the time I first
saw the complex, there were less than two acres of trees left, and these
not well cared for.

My first year I worked with two sour local men picking and crating apples,
and I lived in the house with my step mother Gloria, the last of my
father's many wives. My father was already far gone by this point, and
never came out of his room where the nurses would attend to him. In the
last decent dorm building on the property the men were put up during the
picking, and they made noise and carried on every evening to the point that
my step mother declared that they would not be asked back the following
year.

"You will have to see to the picking yourself next summer, Jeffrey," she
told me, and I nodded politely, though I did not believe this would come to
pass. "You may even have a small bit of extra help." That was the first
hint I had of my nephew.

"You're not really related by blood," she told me as she introduced him to
me, "as his daddy is not your daddy, but I hope you will act like family."
I had just arrived for the picking and was ready to unpack my bag in my old
room, when she explained that I was to live in the dorm building. "The
other workers are not here this year, and Sterling is in the room you had
before," she said, her hand on his shoulder.

       He was perhaps 10 years old, thin and wiry, with long pants and a
collared shirt. His light brown hair was longish, over his ears but not to
his shoulders. He hadn't spoken since his mother called him down to meet
me, and had seemed as though he was trying to hide in her skirts, shy of
his new uncle. His large dark eyes darted up at me through long lashes, his
mouth open as though in some awe.

       "So, you gonna help me in the orchard this year, Sterling?" I asked
him. His face flushed and he looked down, letting his bangs hang across his
eyes...

       "I am hoping you will show him how to take care of the apples, and
maybe even get out the cider press," his mother answered for him. "We wont
be selling any apples this year, but I want Sterling to know how to harvest
and work the orchard."

       "If we don't sell the apples, how am I going to be paid?" I asked,
incredulously. The apple sales were my only income for the year, and I had
already made plans for the money.

       "You will get the same as you got last year," she assured me, "But
I am hoping you wont work nearly as hard." I had put my all into the
harvest the previous year and had been rewarded a full share of the
pickers' portion, much to the grumbling of the two hired men. I swallowed
my smile at the thought of another lucrative year, not wanting to give
Gloria the satisfaction of having bought me so completely. "Now take
Sterling down to the dorm and you two can start cleaning it up for you to
use Jeffrey. I'm sorry there is no room in the house, but you are 15 now,
and quite old enough to take care of yourself."

       The dorm was not in such terrible shape as I feared. The interior
was completely dry- walled and insulated, although the new walls had never
been painted. The floor was raw plywood, but worn smooth by foot traffic of
the men who lived there the last several years. There were high windows
above each of the eight bunks where the walls met the ceiling and a
doorless opening into a communal restroom and shower. On the wall opposite
the entrance was a kitchen sink and older electric stove, and a small
refrigerator, on top of which was a huge antique microwave. The place
smelled faintly of the beer and food that the men of years past had
consumed, but I had hopes that Sterling and I could clean the place up to
be rather comfortable.

       Sterling had been following me at several paces behind since his
mother dismissed us. I had been talking to him as we went, commenting on
the state of the dorm, the apples, what we should do first, and altogether
babbling as though I was talking to myself. I was in the bathroom checking
the toilets to see if they flushed before I realized that I hadn't yet
heard a word from the boy.

       "Now that is one hell of a great flushing toilet!" I said to him,
kneeling in the stall and pointing at the swirling water in the
old-fashioned porcelain bowl. "This is the one I'll be shitting in for
sure!" His eyes widened and he smiled as the flush again rose in his
face. But still no sound. "Do you ever talk?" I asked him, holding his
eyes with my own. And as he smiled still, what looked like a great fear
rose in his eyes, and for a second I thought he was about to run away, but
he held my stare, and finally, nodded.

       I cracked up. I was still giddy from the knowledge that I would be
making as much as last year with much less work, and this kid had just out
stone-faced the master stone-face. I laughed and nearly fell into the bowl
still filling from its flush. He was laughing as well, his mouth opening
and teeth grinning and eyes jumping, but no sound came. I mussed his hair
with one hand and grabbed him around the middle with the other arm and
lifted him off the ground, digging my fingers playfully into his ribs. I
could feel the muscles of his abdomen chest and sides contract as I tickled
him, and finally, in what I thought must be a play-voice, something he made
up as a joke, I heard him squeak something that sounded like, "stop, please
stop...don't..."

I set him down outside the toilet stall and he sucked in a huge audible
breath and folded his arms around himself where I had been tickling. "That
wasn't very nice," he chirped. I watched closely to see when he would give
up on the joke he was surely playing. I wasn't certain, but he sounded as
though he had been inhaling helium.

"Are you ok?" I inquired still not fully believing what I had heard.

"Yes, but please don't tickle me, I hate that," his small metallic voice
told me. His face was bright red, and his eyes were huge and pleading, on
the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to get you to say something." I told him softly,
feeling terrible.

"Everyone always wants me to say something," he sobbed, sounding like a
bird or small reptile that had just miraculously learned to speak, "So that
they can laugh at me."

I dropped back to my knees and moved too hug the boy, but he tightened up
and turned away. I reached his shoulder and pulled him toward me, "I
promise I wont laugh at you," I said softly as I held his trembling body.
"It's ok, I wont hurt you," I cooed in his ear as I felt his body relax and
decompress from the fear and anger he had felt. "You made me laugh by not
talking," I reminded him, "when you outsmarted my silly question." I felt a
small inaudible chuckle from within his chest as he rested his head against
my shoulder. He had, indeed, gotten one over on me.

We managed to straighten up and get my stuff unpacked, even found the
pirated cable connection the fellows had hooked up the year before, and set
up my portable television. There was nothing in the fridge, I suggested we
head back up the hill to the house to see what his mother might be fixing
for dinner.

"You are going to eat with us?" he asked, incredulously.

"I ate with your mother last year. Or at least I ate at the house, it was
mostly with the nurses taking care of my father."

"You wont..." he hesitated, looking pleadingly at me, "...You wont tell
my mom I cried and all, will you?"

"Of course not!" I told him, still wondering why he would bring it up.

"My mom told me I have to give you space and not be trouble for you. She
said if I am a bother I can't work with you." It was the most I had heard
him say yet, and I had nearly gotten used to his peculiar voice.

"I'll make you a deal right now. Since you and I will be working together
the rest of the summer, I'll look out for you and you look out for me, ok?"

His big toothy smile answered for him.

I was up early the next morning, awakened by the sunlight through the high
windows. I made some cocoa on the hot plate, and headed up the hill to the
house. Gloria was making eggs and bacon, and looked surprised to see me.

"Oh, Jeffrey. Up early. Coffee?"

"I have Cocoa, thanks," I replied and sat at the kitchen table.

"Sterling is up, he should be down in a minute." She looked at me sideways
from the stove over a spatula. "He was planning on going down to wake
you. He seems to like you."

"He seems like a nice kid. I think we will get along fine."

"You sure took his voice in stride. He thinks I warned you about it. He
doesn't like me to tell people, likes to break it to them himself." She set
a plate of food in front of me.

"What is the deal with his voice?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "It
is...different."

"That's the deal all right," she said with a laugh, more to herself than to
me, "It is different." I looked at her as I chewed a mouth-full of egg,
waiting for more of an answer.

From the stairs came a clomping gallop, heavy shoes hitting every other
stair in a rolling controlled fall of feet on loose planks and hands on the
banister.

"Sterling, Jesus Christ! You'll go right through those stairs one time
soon!" Gloria reprimanded the smiling boy.

"Or wake my father," I added, noticing Sterling's work outfit.

"Fat chance of that!" he shot back at me, grinning ear to ear, with what
seemed like more teeth than could or should rightly fit in such a small
boy's mouth. He wore tan cargo shorts cut short but loose, and a thin Nike
tank top. Hi skin was bright copper and taught against the ropy muscles of
his chest, arms and legs. His knees were square knobs of bone jutting out
at unlikely angles from his smooth quads and shins, the left was scraped
and scabbed over from a not-so- recent injury.

"Sterling, that was a terrible thing to say, with Jerffery here," Gloria
shook the spatula at him. I didn't care really, my father had never been
anything but a remote concept to me, and his condition was no great cause
of pain to me, but I took the opportunity and frowned, looking down at my
plate.

"I'm sorry," I heard him say quietly. He had moved up next to me, and I
could feel his breath on my ear as he leaned toward me to apologize. I
turned to respond, and his huge almond shaped eyes looked as though they
would explode with tears.

"It's ok," I smiled, and ruffled his hair. "We all say stupid things
sometimes."

We spent the next three days working out our picking system. Sterling was
an incredible tree climber, just like a monkey. We would both use the large
wide-bottomed ladders to pick the lower branches of a tree, and then
Sterling would climb up to any remaining apple-laden areas and pick and
drop apples one at a time to me on the ladder. I spent many hours
concentrating on his small figure above me, clinging to a branch.

"Go?" he would ask with an apple in his outstretched hand, ready to let it
drop.

"Go!" I responded, seeing the apple and ready to catch it. This was a
terribly slow and unproductive way to pick fruit, but we had more apples
than we would ever be able to harvest, and nothing but pie and cider to do
with them. And the view from my perspective was awesome. Hid sinewy legs
gripping a branch, loose shorts often exposing the whiter skin above his
cuff-lines, and sometimes a brief flash of thin white underwear material.
He often climbed the trees shirtless, and his torso and arms were a joy for
me to watch. His color seemed to darken each day, contrasting against the
smooth bright white of his underarms, and heightening the soft pink of his
tiny nipples. His stomach was tight, and rippled with small folds of the
smooth skin when he doubled at the waist, leaning to drop an apple. His
smooth hairless skin seemed alive and glowing, unlike my own freckled back
and arms, shadowed with fine light hairs.

While we picked, he talked constantly. About movies he had seen, teachers
in school, basketball players, sports cars, things he wanted to do and
places he wanted to see. He made me laugh almost constantly. His voice
became less and less unusual to my ear, and became almost a beautiful
sound. It conveyed such sincerity about his beliefs in the world, in
people, and in what he could do.

"I think maybe I would like to go to Chicago when I grow up," he told me
from high in the branches once.

"Why is that, Ster?"

"Well, they have the worlds highest building, the Sears Tower. And I was
thinking..."

"I think that there is a taller building in Singapore, Ster"

"Nuh uh! The Guinness Book says that the Sears Tower is highest." His voice
raised higher still, to nearly inaudible range when he was arguing or
proving a point.

"I'll bet you have an old copy..."

"Anyways," he proclaimed, exasperated with my ignorance, "I am going to
build a building even higher than the Sears Tower or whatever building in
Singapore.

"I have it all figured out," he explained. " All I have to do is get enough
room for a big base to the building and I can make it as big as I want. If
it is nearly as wide as tall, it wont fall over so easy."

"Its been done, Ster"

"Where?" he demanded.

"They are called the Pyramids. In Egypt, ever heard of them?" I teased.

"Hah!" he squeaked, "Those aren't buildings, they're graves! Ignoramus!"

"Anyways, what are you going to do with all the room? Tall and wide that is
going to be a big damn building!"

He thought for a moment, picked and dropped several apples.

"Lots of people need homes."

I hated to leave Sterling in the evening, but it was a relief as well. All
day I spent looking at his body, and falling in love with his soul. I knew
I liked boys, this was no shock. I had never done anything with a boy, but
I knew that I wanted to touch and be touched, I wanted to share the
wonderful feelings I had, and I wanted to have it all with Sterling.

When I reached the dorm I would strip and shower, sometimes pretending that
Sterling was there with me under the warm water, washing me as I washed
him, smiling at me and looking at me the way I look at him, feeling my body
with his strong small hands, exploring and caressing. I would move to my
bunk, nude, as the dorm was always warm from the day's sun. I would hold my
erection, and imagine Sterlings moist lips and strong straight teeth,
imagine tasting those lips and tongue, his mouth and mine finding each
other. I imagine his surprise at my curly red pubic hair, the length of my
white penis, the heat of my balls as he runs his hands through the soft
down on my sac. I imagine his own erect penis, its head glistening and
small tight nutsac against the white hairless groin, such a contrast to his
dark soft legs. I imagine him asking me to taste his penis, his warm
whisper against my neck, and the taste of his nipples and chest and the
gasp and shudder of his small body as I pull his small hot erection into my
mouth, holding his smooth buttocks clenching as I bring him in and out and
in deeper, the feel of his small balls in their taught smooth skin, the
deep shaft of his penis where it goes between his legs under his balls and
toward his asshole, his climax and the sounds he makes with that voice,
that small, wonderful, alien voice, his penis throbbing in my mouth. I lay
him down on the bed and move up over his body, with my mouth on his stomach
and my hands on his small but well defined pecks, the v where his neck
meets his chest, my own still hard penis rubbing on his smooth brown legs
and his spent sex, I straddle his warm body, he is smiling and breathing
heavily, and I rub my penis on his chest and arms and neck, underarms and
sides..he holds my balls with one hand, massaging them in their sac, I bend
down to him and kiss him, my tongue burrowing deep into his soft wet mouth,
tasting his tongue and his desire, I pull away from his hungry lips and
move my legs up to his armpits, and hold his willing head as he takes my
hard red penis in his mouth, and into his throat, devouring my shaft and
massaging my balls, his eyes looking up and loving me and I loving him, and
when I come...

       ...when I come I am alone and lonely, my orgasm allowing a release
of something pent up, as my cum is released on the pillow in thick streams,
but there is no fulfillment.

Sometimes I would wake in the night having dreamt of a similar encounter
with my young love, and would relieve myself with fantasy and masturbation.
I considered several times sneaking up to the house and into his room,
declaring my love and needs, convinced that he must love me also and would
oblige my need if I could show him how real were my feelings. He would so
often share such intimate secrets with me, desires and fears, terrible
embarrassing things that happen to a boy who lives alone with his mother,
fully assured that I would keep his confidence. Why could I not confide in
him, when my love was so very strong? I was caught on an excruciatingly
painful erotic yet unavoidable dilemma.

One morning after a particularly fretful night, I managed to oversleep and
miss breakfast at the house. I awoke when Sterling shook my arm, his
chirping voice in my ears.

"Hey wake up! You missed breakfast!" He jumped on the bed and bounced on me
with his forearms, making the whole mattress squeak against the straining
bedsprings.

"Ok, ok," I'm getting up. Badly needing to piss, and being awaken by the
object of my desires, I had a raging hard-on. I was wearing briefs, but
they would not hide my state when I crawled out from beneath the
covers. What could I do? I swung my feet over and stood up, nearly poking
out of my shorts.

"Oh man!" Sterling chortled, and when I caught his eyes moving up from my
crotch, his face turned bright red and he showed an embarrassed toothy
grin. I moved my stiff penis into a more comfortable position in my briefs,
while never losing eye contact. I winked, and walked toward the bathroom to
relieve my bladder.

I walked back into the room, my bedroom I remembered, and concentrated on
getting dressed. Sterling seemed to be set where he was, so I went on about
my business. I pulled clean underwear and socks from my bag and set them on
the bed. No longer hard, I decided to give my boy a bit of a show. I stood
and stepped out of my shorts and stood for a moment totally naked, then sat
on the bed and put on my clean socks. I caught Sterling's eye again, and he
grinned, as though we shared a funny and secret joke.

"If it is ok with you, mom says I am s'posed to make sure it's ok with
you..." he was having a hard time looking at my face as he spoke. I put
on my clean briefs and shorts and a T- shirt and was about to ask if what
was ok with me, when Sterling again piped up.

"She wants you to come up and tell her it is ok before she goes." His voice
was gaining altitude of pitch, and if he got any more excited only dogs
would be able to hear him.

"What's ok, Ster? What are you talking about?"

"Mom says I can stay here with you tonight in the dorm, if it is ok with
you. She is going to Portland and wont be back until tomorrow night.
Please, say it's ok, wont you?"

"I don't know Ster, the way you were just looking at me, maybe I should be
concerned about you sleeping in the same room." I had to tease him a bit,
and I wanted to see how he would react to me bringing up his wandering
gaze. His grin only widened.

"C'mon, she is waiting for you!" he pulled against my arm.

That day I set a grueling pace for our work. We picked eight trees
completely clean that morning and hauled the boxed apples to the shed.
Sterling didn't get to do any climbing, but stayed with me on the ladder
and picked nearly as many as I did. After a quick lunch on cold sandwiches
Gloria had left us, we unloaded a stack of equipment from the loft of the
shed, hoping to find all the pieces to the ancient cider press we were
supposed to use. We unloaded and then repacked about 25 boxes, before we
had what we believed to be all the parts to the press, at which time we
reloaded the boxes of household junk back into the loft. It was hot and
dusty in the shed, and I worked up a sweat which collected the dirt and
dust in the air. Sterling got filthy from crawling in the attic section of
the loft retrieving and replacing boxes. He wore only his cargo shorts and
red converse tennis shoes.

At one point I was sitting on a crate on the floor, trying to figure how
some parts to the press went together, and Sterling stood in front of me
watching as I messed with the gadgets. His chest was covered with a thin
film of dust, as were his shorts and the fronts of his legs. He was so
interested in what I was doing I caught him completely off guard when I
licked my finger and reached up and began drawing lines on his dusty
chest. He made no effort to resist, but smiled his toothy grin as I drew
circles around his nipples, spiraling out from the small pink buttons. I
drew a large triangle from just below his rib cage out to his sides and
across to his navel, slowly removing the dust. He just laughed and said he
looked like an indian, painted for battle.

Later, when we were putting things away for the day, ready to go back to
the dorm for a dinner I would prepare for us in the make-shift kitchen, he
made a move nearly as daring as my chest-writing.

"Jeffrey, do you like being called Jeffrey?" he asked me softly. "What do
you mean, Ster?"

"Well, like that. You call me 'Ster'. What can I call you?"

"There is 'Jeff'."

"You don't really seem like a "Jeff". Every Jeff I know is an asshole."
Sterling rarely swore, so that comment struck me as funny.

"Thanks, I guess then..." I was a bit puzzled with the direction of this
conversation.

"What if I call you 'Red'?" he asked, with a sideways look, watching for my
reaction.

I thought about that for a minute. The hair on my head is lightish brown,
maybe even blondish with all the sun I had been getting. I am prone to
sunburns, but by late summer, especially this late summer, my skin was a
light bronze, with a bit of freckling on my face arms and back. He could
only be talking about my pubic hair, and the show I gave his impressionable
eyes that very morning. Even the tiny amount of hair under my arms could
not be called red, just a dirty blondish color, but my bush, the small
round pillow of hair above my cock was definitely red, bright dark orange
copper red.

"Sure," I told him, "I'd like it if you called me that." My heart pounded
in my chest as I watched him take the news, a knowing grin on his sweet
face.

That evening we had dinner in the dorm, hamburgers on the hot plate, and
ice cream out of the freezer at the house. I had no freezer at the dorm, so
we had to eat the whole quart of hagen-daz in a sitting. After dinner we
watched the television I had set up on the stool by my bunk. There was no
furniture, so I set it up so that we could each lay in a bed and see the
screen. We watched an old sci-fi horror movie from the 90's. The dorm was
very dark and quiet, except for the glow from the small LCD TV screen and
the occasional screams of people in the movie as aliens popped out of their
bellies. Sterling was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a clean pair of
cargo shorts. I thought he had only one pair, but this was not the same
pair he had crawled around the loft in. He had kicked off his red canvas
Chuckies and was sprawled across the bed across from mine, watching the
movie intently. I watched him as much or more than I watched the movie, and
it was a good movie. Toward the end of the film the room began to cool off
, and Sterling curled up into his oversized sweatshirt, trying to stay
warm. I had several blankets on my bed, but Sterling had brought only a big
old sleeping bag that stunk of piss when we unrolled it earlier that night.

He watched as I stood up and undressed to my briefs and crawled under my
covers, still watching the television. He turned toward the television
again, his legs pulled all the way up into his sweatshirt, when I clucked
my tongue at him, as if calling a horse. His eyes jumped to meet mine, and
I lifted my covers and beckoned him to my bed with my a tilt of my
head. Without hesitation he scurried over and crawled in with me and
snuggled his back side against my front, his head under my chin so that we
could both see the movie. I felt his chilly legs against mine, and moved my
hands to them in an effort to warm him. I felt for his chest, but the
bulky sweatshirt made that impossible.

"Take this off," I whispered in his ear, as I grasped the top. He deftly
pulled it over his head and tossed it on the floor. He shook slightly as he
warmed, and I put my arms around him, his head resting on my left bicep.
We continued watching the movie, and I held him tightly. The smell of his
hair intoxicated me, and I let my hands roam about his chest and sides,
from his smooth tight tummy to his supple neck. I found his nipples and
massaged them lightly and brought them to erection, and worried that I was
going too far, and so moved on.

"Don't stop that, it's nice," he told me quietly when I moved from his
nipples, so I returned my attentions to his smooth little buttons. I
nuzzled my nose and mouth into his hair, and kissed his head as quietly as
I could, afraid to reach the point where he would want me to stop, hoping
never to get there. My penis was hard as a rock, but fit well in the
crevice between his cheeks and hamstrings, and I was hopeful that he
couldn't feel its strain against my briefs and his cargo shorts.

I continued rubbing his chest and tummy, becoming familiar by feel with his
strong chest muscles, where they joined his shoulder at his arm pit, with
the smooth skin of his sides and a bit of hip where it protruded above his
low-slung shorts. My legs held electrically to his own, I felt every inch
of skin contact between us. I felt as though time were standing still, and
as the movie ended and the credits rolled up the screen, I realized that
Sterling was asleep.

"Are you awake, my love?" I asked quietly, thrilled with the idea that I
had admitted my feelings even as he slept. His mouth was open and he
breathed regularly through his moist lips. "I think you will be more
comfortable with these off, I said, pulling together the nerve to run my
hand down the front of his canvas shorts. I listened to him breath slowly
and rhythmically as I worked my fingers into the clasp of his shorts,
worked the zipper, and as I did so, ran the back of my fingers across the
front panel of his thin cotton underwear. I grabbed the now loose cargos by
their cuffs and lifting his body slightly, shimmied the rough shorts off
his lithe body.

I lay quietly for some time with Sterling in my arms, holding him against
me, exploring the regions newly uncovered, his hips and upper legs, the
smooth white skin that the sun never saw, with a texture unlike the tanned
areas; I believed I could feel his tan lines. I had never been this close
to another person, never had access to another's body like I had now.

Sterling stirred, and muttered something unintelligible. My heart leapt
into my throat.

"Are you ok, Ster?" I asked him in a whisper.

"Umm hmmm," he hummed as he rolled his body toward me, still in my arms,
but no longer in such complete contact. "I'm ok," he told me, and snuggled
his face up to my chest. Sterling lay on his side, his knees now jutted
toward me, and one arm over my side and the other under his body. I ran my
hand along his side, over his coton covered hip, and down his leg. I
stroked his firm quadricep and touched the skinned knee he had recently
re-injured, feeling the rough scab. I moved my hand to the space between
his knees, and up between his soft smooth thighs. His face was just inches
from mine, and I wondered how conscious he was of what was happening.

"Is this ok, Ster?"

"Mm--yeah, ok" he slurred, and a tiny bit of drool fell from the corner of
his mouth. I moved my head closer and with my tongue licked at the tiny
drop of moisture, and licked his tender lips, and kissed his soft mouth. My
hand moved up higher between his thighs until I could feel the soft cotton
of his briefs, and the very warm flesh beneath. I had a nice hand-full of
his soft thingh and with my thumb, moved under the legband of his briefs,
tickling the soft skin of his ballsac. I moved my entire hand into his
unders and for the first time in my short life I felt another boys penis,
and to my surprise and relief it was quite hard. I felt for foreskin, and
although there was some loose skin on his warm penis, I decided that it was
no more than I had, and he must be circumcised. I felt the place on the
underside where his semen would in a couple years travel, felt the ridge
around the head, and his piss slit. I moved my hand to around the base of
his penis, felt for any early pubes, but found none. I wrapped my hand
around his whole package, rolled his balls around in their very loose
ballsac, and felt where the root of his penis delved deep into his body,
down toward his asshole. I shimmied out of my own underwear, and felt my
own hard penis, bigger than his ad ready to burst. I brought his hand down
from my side and placed it around my penis, hoping he would grab a hold. It
felt warm and nice, but he was too far asleep to give me what I needed. I
looked into his beautiful innocent face and noticed a kind of smile.

"Ster, just relax, I'm going to do something nice," I whispered into his
ear. He purred slightly, but continued breathing steadily. I shimmied my
body down under the covers until I was down to his beautiful nipples. I
licked each one and took each in turn in my mouth, pressing my tongue
firmly into the flesh and muscle of his chest. I continued licking his
sweet chest and ribs and stomach as I moved down toward my final
target. When I got to the waistband on his briefs, I gently lifted them and
pulled them down around his thighs. I placed my mouth on the region below
his waistband but above his penis, and tasted his hairless pubic region. I
licked down to his stiff penis, which brushed my cheek as I moved to its
base, and then down and around to his slack and silky smooth ballsac,
taking one and then both of his jewels into my mouth, feeling them swirl
about like warm oysters. I then licked the length of his small but proud
penis, stopping at the underside of the head, and tracing around the ridge
until I could hold back no more and plunged the entire length of his firm
penis into my mouth.

I felt him suck in his breath and coo a soft squeak, but I was too far
gone in passions of sucking his sweet penis to care. I went down completely
and came back up, pulling the tender skin along the length, and running my
tongue over his small warm head, and as I did so his hips and pelvis began
to rock and pump with the rhythm of my sucking. At the furthest downward
point in my stroke I would hold there for a second and reach for his balls
with my tongue, pulling them into my mouth also, sucking all three jewels
at once. I moved my hand up between his legs and held his balls and
massaged his penis root and explored the region near his asshole. Soon his
jerkin became erratic, and I again took him all the way into my wet mouth,
and felt his body spasm, legs, arms, chest, buttocks, and penis.

I kept him in my mouth until he was soft, and I explored the soft version
of his wonderful sex with my tongue and lips. He groaned something
unintelligible and turned away from me again, and I helped him get his
underwear back into place. I folded my arms back around him, and nuzzled my
face into his hair, and pressed my now naked body against his. My cock
immediatley stiffened again, and soon I was able to slide it between his
soft thighs.

"I love you," I whispered into his ear, and he grumbled something back that
I wanted to believe was "Me too," but I cant be sure. But I was sure that
he was the sexiest boy alive and had my hard penis between his warm legs. I
caressed his chest and kissed his neck as I pumped slowly between his legs
until my cock exploded cum all over him. I held my hand over the front and
caught some of my juice as it erupted, rubbing it into his legs and
stomach. When I was completely done I turned his head toward me and kissed
his mouth again, my tongue finding his, and felt him briefly return my
kiss. Soon I was asleep also.

In the morning he was up and dressed when I awoke. He was watching
television cartoons, sitting on the bed across from me. He had on his cargo
pants and one of my T-shirts.

"Hey Red, wanna watch cartoons?" It was the first time he had called me
that since he gave me the name. "I went up and got some donuts if you want
one."

"How did you sleep?" I asked, wondering what if anything he might remember.

"Good. Did you know we slept all night in the same bed?"

"Is that ok?"

"Yeah, just probably shouldn't tell my mother." He smirked at me.

We finished up the harvest without having another chance to spend the
night. The apples mostly got harvested. We never did get the cider press up
and working, but I know that Gloria had good apples well into the winter.
Sterling continued to call me Red for the remainder of the season, and
Gloria was good enough to never ask why. When my own mother came to pick
me up Sterling helped me carry my gear to the car. Before leaving he gave
me a huge hug and whispered in my ear, in his inimitable squeak.

"Thanks for everything, Red. Everything. I cant wait 'til next year."

 
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Nifty - Gay - Young Friends - Red