Copyright 2002 by the author. All characters and situations are fictional or should be. Use a condom if you have sex. Contact me with questions or comments at plower_power@hotmail.com, and do not use this story (other than for the obvious purpose) unless you receive permission from me.
Luke's Summer Vacation
by "Plower Power"
Until he moved away, my best friend was Bobby Witcomb. He moved from Pacific Palisades, which is a nice neighborhood near the beach in Los Angeles, all the way to East Orange, which is not, I think, so nice a neighborhood, and is located in the state of New Jersey. We'll, his folks split up, and Bobby ended up heading east with his mom, which is where her folks live.
The thing about it is, Bobby and I had a sort of thing going. See, when we were 12, Bobby spent the night at my house one time, and we'd discovered how much fun it was to fool around together. It didn't happen on purpose, but it did happen and I'm not sorry. And we kinda kept the relationship - which, I have to admit was based on getting our rocks off - going for the next three years. We both felt guilty for a long time, but it felt sooo good.
When Bobby first told me he was moving, I thought maybe somebody, like his mom or a friend, my big sister - maybe even God, who I don't believe in anyway, but you never know - maybe somebody had figured out what we were doing beneath the sheets (or in the garage, or a tent, or ...) and we were being, like, punished. But now I know it was just that his folks divorced, and Bobby had to move, and what we did was no worse or better than what a guy and a gal or two girls would do if they were our ages. But being so young, we couldn't be so open about how we felt.
Well, sure, I'd thought about scoring with girls, but by the time Bobby moved, I hadn't yet got around to it. Not like I'm shy around girls, but I just never got a lot of practice getting physical with them. One day, I suppose, I might.
But I did nave lots of "on the job training" from being with Bobby, and I knew I wanted more than a five fingered date for entertainment after he'd moved away, so I started looking around at some of the guys at school I might start a new relationship with. There were some very handsome guys at my school. But most of them were straight, or would say they were straight if asked, so I had to be careful. At Palisades High, the very few guys or girls who were willing to come out seemed to have a tough time. I didn't want that to happen to me, and besides, I thought I might like to experiment one day with a little female-style teenage nookie. You never know.
Being a freshman, I didn't really have a handle on how the social system at Pali operated, so I went slow, not wanting to gross anyone out who wasn't so inclined to enjoy, for example, a little random groping in the gym shower.
Well, I finally made friends with Michael Padget. I made friends with him because he was really cute, and like Bobby, he was nice, too. Also, I had seen him in the shower after gym class, and he was well hung, a lot bigger (at least without a hard-on) than me. Michael, I noted, wasn't especially interested in girls, at least as far as I could tell, which meant to me that he was also inexperienced, or, better yet, really not interested in girls. I figured he was ripe to go either way, that all he needed was a little help from the right person. Me, natch.
One Saturday afternoon Michael pedaled his bike up the long hill to my house, to have lunch and, as I put it to him, "screw around at my place for the afternoon." Our house sits back a little at the end of a cul de sac, just off Westridge Street, and I'd prepared for his visit.
It's a long hump up into the Santa Monica mountains where I live (and it's why I don't even own a bike), and Michael was practically taking a bath in his own sweat, so as soon as he wheeled his bike into our side yard, I suggested a swim.
That Saturday my folks and my sister were gone for the day. When we went into my bedroom to change, I tossed Michael a swim suite and a towel, but I told him it was clothing optional, since no one was around and the house was out of view from the rest of the neighborhood. Then I stripped and walked outside, careful to hide my cock with my towel, which just was beginning to perk up (my cock, not the towel) a little with anticipation. Like I said, I didn't want to gross anybody out.
So I started thinking about some sad stuff, like when my cat got run over a few months before, how Barb, my sister had cried, all to keep my boner from becoming too obvious through the towel, and then I thought about how sad I was that Bobby had moved, but that got me thinking about what we'd done together, which got me hard again, so I ended up just jumping into the pool to calm things down again.
Anyway, Michael came out dressed in his towel.
"Are you sure nobody can see us, Luke?"
"Hey, look around! Can you see anybody? Don't be a prude, man, come on in," I urged. "Anyway, you have to work on getting rid of those tan lines if you have any," I added. I didn't have any, natch.
Michael dropped his towel and he was indeed a naked guy, and my heart went pitter patter and my cock suddenly surged up against my stomach, saluting like maybe it heard the Star Spangled Banner being played. Yes, Michael was a very cute guy, a year younger than me, his face was both leonine and a touch feminine, with long lashes around his large eyes, but still, very good looking for a guy; he had a nice looking ass just made for massaging and probably lots more, some nice pecs from working out with weights (like I did), and of course some great looking nipples. I like looking at nipples on guys, by the way, and on some girls I've seen, too, but big boobs and big nipples on a girl are a turn-off, they make me think I'm looking at a cow.
There was just a smattering of blond hair on his chest, and a little more on his legs, and a barely any around his pretty balls. Of course, he had that great looking purple-red boy cock that stuck out right in the middle of that pale, middle section of Michael's body, and dropped down several yummy inches between his legs.
Like me, he was a little under 6 feet, and maybe 145 skinny pounds, including the dirty blonde top hair he wore short. And he really did need to work on those tan lines, but, hey, I decided to keep him.
He saw my calm eyes on him, on his cock. He looked down shyly, and then dove into the pool. When he surfaced he swam over next to me and asked where my family was.
"My folks are in Laguna for the day visiting my mom's business partner," I told him. "They won't be home before midnight."
"How about your sister?"
"She's spending the night at a friend's," I answered. "Don't sweat it, we all swim in the buff, here. Hey," I added, as if it were an afterthought, "do you know Barbara?"
"Yeah, sort of, I mean I've seen her at school," Michael answered.
"What do you think of her? Careful what you say, she's my sister."
"Well, she's a senior is about all I know."
"Think she's cute?"
"I guess so."
We swam around for a while, and Michael cooled off, and then I suggested lunch. We climbed out of the pool and I walked up behind Michael and said, "Let me wipe your hair, and you do mine," and he didn't object. I was real close to him, and I wanted to slide my cock, which was inching northward, in between the cheeks of his ass. I wished I could see around him to know what his own dick was doing when someone in the nude was giving him a nice toweling like that.
"My turn," I said and snapped his ass with my towel. He jumped and twisted around, and I got a glimpse of his cock which was - oh boy! - semi-erect. I'd already wrapped my towel around my waist and quickly faced away from him. He was quiet as he dried me for a minute, and by the time I'd turned back around, he was in his towel, too. I don't think he could have missed the bulge in the front of my towel, and I saw he had one going, too, but Michael was not looking at me.
We went inside, and I had him follow me into the kitchen.
"Wanna see something really cool, first?" I asked him.
"Sure, what?"
I led him into the little laundry room, just off the kitchen. There was a huge pile of clothes in the basket, most of it Barb's. I reached in and fished around for a while, and then pulled out my prize.
"Check these out," I said. Between my thumbs and forefingers of each hand I held out for Michael's close inspection a pair of my sister's very sheer, very scanty pink panties, the kind I happen to know she wears when's she's out with her boyfriend.
"What do you think? Nice, aren't they?" I asked.
"Yes," Michael answered, and it sounded like he had a little trouble getting even that one word out.
"But kinda brief, don't you think?"
Michael didn't answer, just nodded his head, his eyes fixed on the sexy lingerie. Fish on the line, I said to myself, he's hooked, all right.
"I've overheard Barbara talking to her friends about these panties," I went on.
"Oh, yeah? What about?" Michael said, still staring at the undies.
"Well, I mean, not these very panties that I'm holding here before you, although it's possible they might have been the ones. You see, Michael, my sister's got a lot of these little things," I said. "She must have three dozen if she has one. Anyway, I know what she likes to do to her boyfriend with them," I said.
"What," Michael said, his voice pure monotone.
"She jerks him off with them," I said with a big, goofy grin.
"What!"
"You know, masturbates him," I said. "Pulls his pud, wangs his weenie, makes his peanut brittle." I watched my friend's face turn beet red, and I worried that my words might have had the opposite effect on him than I intended. "She says he just loves the feel of them, real smooth and sexy. And you know what, she's right," I said conspiratorially.
"What do you mean," Michael said, turning at last toward me.
"I mean they are great to whack off with. Hey, I told you, Barb's got dozens of panties. Take a pair, she'll never miss them. I've got a couple of pair stashed in my room. Just don't let your mom or dad catch you with these or you won't get to date for a while."
He took the proffered panties from my outstretched hand, holding them at arms length, like my dad trying to read the paper without his reading glasses.
"I dunno," he said.
"Come on, let's get lunch," I said.
The panties sat on the table between us as we munched our tuna fish sandwiches, and sure, we talked about other stuff besides Barb's unmentionables, but I made sure to bring the subject back to good, old sex every once in a while.
Afterward we headed to my room, and Michael brought the panties with him. He still held them a little away from his body, like they might bite him if he weren't careful.
"I'll show you my little collection," I told him, digging under my mattress. Of course, I didn't really keep any of Barb's panties under my mattress, and I'd never jacked off with them, and I'd never heard her talk about using them on her boyfriend (who, by the way, is also a guy I'd like to get to know better, except that Barb had dibs on him first). I'd just lifted them from the hamper and put them under the mattress before Michael biked up, because I knew the effect those panties can have on some guys. Now I pulled them out from under the mattress; there was another tiny pink pair, and an even briefer, sheerer red pair, and I held out one in each hand.
"Aren't these sexy!" I said.
There was only silence from Michael. "Say," I added with my best smirk, "you wouldn't want to practice with one of my pairs before you head home?"
"What do you mean," Michael stammered.
"I dunno, looking at these just kind of put me in the mood," I said, sitting down on one end of my bed, my back against the wall. "Don't you think they're a turn on?"
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to, now. I could tell he was ready.
"I like to pretend I'm with a girl when I use these," I said. "You like to think about girls, too, don't you?"
"Yeah, of course."
Without looking at Michael I slowly undid my towel with one hand, and then, with the other, I slowly lowered the little pink panties over my own teen toy. The towel had fallen away from my waist, and my own six inches + were on display.
"We probably shouldn't be doing this," I said. "But since we both like girls and Barb's panties aren't in short supply...."
Michael just stood there, watching me begin to slide the skimpy unmentionables gently up and down my cock. The feel of the slick nylon, in fact, felt great, and I told myself to put the clean pair back under the mattress after Michael left, for future experimentation. After all, my sister really did have dozens of panties.
"Sit down on the other end of the bed," I commanded.
Michael did as I told him and, more slowly then me, undid his towel. I didn't look at him, concentrating instead on the task in hand. Of course, I didn't have to see him to know he was following my suit. I could hear him, hear his breathing, hear the almost inaudible sound of the nylon sliding up and down his cock, in time to the rhythm I had set for us.
It didn't take long. I gave a sidelong glance to my new buddy and watched his hand bob up and down with the red panties as he began to furiously jack off. His whole body started to move, and his hard little tush started to lift and drop in time with his hand. His mouth hung open and his eyes were closed. Suddenly his whole body seemed to rotate and he pulled the panties out of the way and a huge glob of his jism shot straight up from his cock head, landing on his chest and back down around his balls. He grabbed hold of his still squirting boy toy with his other hand and pumped away until nothing was left. Then he flopped his head back against the wall and took in this huge breath, almost a sob.
I could only say, "Wow, way to go!"
Michael looked over at me. I had stopped playing with myself to watch Michael finish his cum, but now I began again. It was kinda fun knowing someone was watching me get off. I watched Michael watch me for a while. Then I closed my own eyes, and the touch of the panties felt great, and my mind drifted back a few months, to the last time I'd been with Bobby.
Bobby moved to California when he was nine, when his dad got a job with a computer software company down near Redondo Beach. Mr. Witcomb, I finally heard from Bobby, was spending more time with his secretary than with Mrs. Witcomb, and that's when his folks split up.
The first time with Bobby, when we spent the night together, was also the first time I ever had sex, except, of course, with myself. Bobby and I went to Paul Revere Junior High, off of Sunset Boulevard, and I invited him over to my place to spend Saturday night.
Unlike me, Bobby was no virgin, having had his own introduction to the delights of the flesh at age 10. He told me he had been tutored by an older cousin, Elmira, who was in L.A. with her parents, staying nights with Bobby's family, and touring the silly tourist attractions like Disneyland and Universal Studios by day.
"Hey, she was fat and ugly, but she was a horny chick," Bobby explained to me later. Bobby was one horny rooster, and that first night he stayed with me, he climbed right into my bed instead of the one on the other side of the light table that was for my guests. I had just turned off the light, but he sure knew how to turn me on. He must of had quite a lesson from his cousin.
Anyway, I just want to let you know a little bit more about Bobby. He was darker than me, even when I had a good tan, which, in California, is possible all year, and I used to like to see our legs enmeshed, see the nice contrast of light and dark skin rubbing together. His teen cock was as long as mine, and maybe a little slimmer, and we would spend hours masturbating and sucking each other, and experimenting on occassion with other nasty stuff.
Well, our last afternoon together before Bobby moved, we went down to the beach, and spent some time on the Palisades Pier on a Saturday afternoon. Mostly we pushed quarters into slots in the arcade, and just hung out. Later, while riding roller skates on the bike path where it passes under the pier, we stopped for a moment. There was an odor of sea water and suntan lotion and even a faint whiff of marijuana. In the semidarkness we chanced a quick kiss. I got one lump in my shorts and another in my throat, and I knew I was really going to miss Bobby. For all the fooling around we had done, we had hardly ever kissed.
We were heading for a hot dog stand when we passed Madam Sophia's place, who was the pier's resident psychic. Bobby wasn't real religious. But he did have a Catholic background. Sometimes I would ask him stuff, like, "Can God make a rock so heavy he can't lift it?" and Bobby would answer quick, "Yes, he could," and I'd say, "Gotcha, there's something he can't do," and then Bobby'd say "Your right, he couldn't," and I'd say "Gotcha again, then there's somethin' else he can't do," and when I asked him those sorts of questions Bobby would get pissed off and just answer "God works in mysterious ways." So this mysterious Madame Sophia was right up his alley this day, and Bobby suggested we go in and talk to the psychic.
"It's bullshit," I protested. "Not to mention it's also five bucks."
"It's my money," he said, pulling me inside. "Besides, I wanna see if she knows what's gonna happen back in New Jersey."
"Just don't show any emotion, my mom says they figure you out from reading your body language."
"Welcome, boys," a somewhat feminine voice rasped as we entered the confines of the seer's parlor. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the the near darkness, which was dispelled only partly by the light from the open door we had just stepped through, and some weakly glowing candles on a small table which also held a crystal ball, behind which I could just make out a women who looked faintly ridiculous in a Gypsy get-up, with a full skirt and peasant top and a bandana of some sort tied around her head pirate style. I could smell incense, too, and, from behind a curtained doorway there was an odor of garlic and onions and, fainter, something that could have been grass.
"Five dollar," she said, holding out her hand, with some sort of accent that sounded like she was from Transylvania or somewhere. "Pay now, please."
Bobby anteed up and she motioned him to sit in a chair, while I sat on a couch. The Madame and Bobby exchanged names and then the session began. I felt a little twinge of fear in my stomach. I told myself nobody could read minds, but who knows? Still, I was only half afraid: I was half pulling for her, hoping Madame Sophia would guess Bobby and I were lovers. Wouldn't that have been a trip?
From behind the doorway I saw a head peek briefly out and peer in our direction, then return behind the curtain.
"You look like you could be Gypsy," Madame Sophia began. "You could be, but you are not. I see you are student, and you have grandma, maybe not grandma, but older woman, one who look after you, or thinks about you. You may not even know who this woman is.
When Bobby didn't answer she went on. "You have secret, a fear."
Oh, Jesus, here it comes!
"You been in prison, some time. Maybe not prison, more like jail."
Bobby didn't move.
"Could be place like prison. Reform school. Or even just school, maybe, with fence around it. But to you this place it feels like prison."
It was all so much bs, but Bobby showed no emotion. Madame Sophia just kept rolling for 10 minutes or so and ended up with all sorts of nonsense about inheriting money, doing well in school, and having girlfriend problems.
When she was done she looked over at me. "You, too?" But before I could answer, the same head I saw before, followed by a body, stepped out from behind the curtained doorway again. It was a guy, and he bent and whispered something in her ear.
"Thank you, darling," the Madame answered. Turning back to us, she said, "I am sorry, no more time. Thank you, Robert, good luck with your school work." Madame Sophia brushed by us and went out the door.
I looked back at the man. He was maybe in his early 20's, and he was dressed in a pair of European cut swim trunks, like Speedos that swim racers wear, only these were even briefer. He also wore a crop top t-shirt over his lean, but muscular chest, and, like Madame Sophia, a bandana tied back over his head. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could also see that he was seemed to be awfully good looking.
"Did my mother discover any truths about you?" the man said, with an accent that was only a little less marked than Madame Sophia's.
"Ah, she did o.k.," Bobby answered politely.
"How about free session," the man said, "You want turn?" he asked, looking right at me.
"I thought Madame Sophia was the psychic."
"I inherit her mystical and her psychic abilities."
"Uh, well, o.k.," I said, and Bobby and I changed places.
"I am Roland," he began.
"Can you guess my name?" I said.
He ignored my crack.
"I sense something, a special friendship, between very good friends."
"That was easy enough to figure out," Bobby, a little less polite, snorted from behind me.
"But I sense more," Roland said. "I sense something, a secret, perhaps, a thing dark and terrible to disclose," he went on, staring intently at me.
I felt the hackles rise on the back of my neck.
"Yes, dark and terrible. I see hands, and mouths, and bodies pressed together."
"Uh, I think we have to leave, Roland," I heard Bobby say in a strained voice, behind me. "Come on, Luke."
"No, I think you stay," Roland said, staring only a me. "I see two young friends, good friends, who have been on unique, inner journey together."
"Oh, my god, I really have to be going," Bobby said, and he started to stand up.
"Sit down, Bobby," I hissed.
"Yes, sit, Bobby," Roland agreed. "Your friend verifies what I say, no? Will you not give Roland satisfaction of confirming what I say?"
"It's a trick," I told him.
"No trick, young Luke, Roland does not lie. At least, not today. You are lovers, you two."
I heard Bobby slump back onto the couch. Roland and I were still eye to eye.
"You see," Roland said, a smile starting to form at the corners of his mouth. "I was under pier smoking joint earlier this afternoon. I see you two kiss. So no trick. I not psychic, perhaps, but I did tell the truth."
"You son of a bitch!"
"Was good joke, no? You learn secret about Gypsies, today, I think. Hey, you two want to share joint with Roland?"
Roland walked over to the door and hung a closed sign on it. We followed him back behind the curtain into a little bedroom and through to a kitchen with a table and a few chairs.
"My mother she stay here most nights," Roland said, lighting up. "Me, I have apartment in West Hollywood."
We talked for a while, getting mellower by the minute. In the brighter light I saw I was right about Roland, he was cute. For an older dude. He had a pouting, almost sensuous mouth. And he seemed very friendly, even cooking up some Armenian shishkabob for us in his little kitchen. When he brought me my plate I couldn't help but notice the nice bulge in his swimsuit.
"Hey, Roland," I said, a hunch forming as we sat around a table in the kitchen licking our fingers. "Were you wearing those little shorts when we came in?"
"No, but when I see you with my mother I change into something more comfortable," he said.
"You deserve some kind of punishment for what you did to us," I told him.
"Shit, yes," Bobby concurred. "Damn straight he does."
"Like, I think you ought to suck cock as a penance."
"What!" Bobby said, choking on his Coke.
"And just whose cock do your suggest I suck, Luke?"
"Ours, natch."
"I think you are psychic, too, my friend, for you have forseen what I wanted. Let us return to the bedroom after we eat, where I see some exciting developments in the near future."
I looked at Bobby for his approval, and he gave it with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders.
"Um, where's you mother," Bobby asked.
"I reminded her she had a house call to make," Roland answered. "I do not expect her back for some hours."
We wandered into the bedroom, where it was warm, even with a sea breeze beginning to blow in, and it was about to get hotter. Roland raised the windows all the way and pulled the shades down over them, blocking the view of the ocean beyond, and keeping any prying eyes from seeing inside.
Roland walked over to Bobby and pulled off his t-shirt, ran his hands over Bobby's shoulders and down his arms, and then tugged Bobby's hot pink, neon swim trunks down over his ass and his sandal-shod feet. Bobby looked great without his clothes on. He was so slim, with a seven incher already taut against his stomach, tall and blond.
Roland stepped back from Bobby a little, and I could see that he was enjoying the view, too. Then he pushed Bobby back onto the bed that was really only big enough for one person at a time.
Roland sank to his knees and put his hands between Bobby's legs, pushing them apart. Bobby's prick needed no encouragement, and he scooted his bottom closer to the edge of the bed. Roland took Bobby's penis in his hands and stroked it for a few moments, and then took it deep inside his mouth with loud, slurping noises. Bobby began to moan with pleasure, leaned back on his hands, and spread his legs to show Roland how much he liked having his boy toy played with.
Meanwhile I moved up behind Roland and started massaging his neck and shoulders while he gave Bobby head.
"Stop for a second," I said, and Roland pulled back from Bobby, who, totally aroused, had to reach down and stroke himself. I reached down and pulled Roland's t-shirt off, then untied his bandana. He shook his head and his shoulder length, jet black hair tumbled out. Then I sat on the floor with him and put my hands down past the elastic band on Roland's swim trunks. First I massaged his butt, and then I reached around the front of him and found his massive cock.
He let me fondle his shaft from behind for a minute, and then leaned forward and took up where he had left off with Bobby.
Bobby now leaned back on his elbows, watching Roland take him in, and he wrapped his legs around the Gypsy's back, the better to draw him onto his cock. His feet, still with sandals on them, were right in my face. I left off with Roland's ass, removed Bobby's sandals, and began slowly licking his toes, pulling them into my mouth as if they were miniature cocks, wrapping my tongue around them and slathering them with saliva. The moans that broke repeatedly from Bobby's mouth every time I started a new toe told me that, along with Roland, I was on the right track.
After a while Bobby suddenly asked Roland to stop, telling him it was time to switch or he'd shoot his load before everyone else could have some fun. As Roland stood up I pulled down on his briefs, and he stepped out of them as he turned and lay on the bed. He sported a truly awesome cock, I'd guess a nine-incher, with a massive head already oozing copious amounts of pre-cum.
Bobby sat on the floor and reached over with one hand to caress Roland's cock. Moistening a finger on his other hand, he gently pushed it into Roland's ass. I wasn't sure if Gypsies went for anal sex, but Roland threw back his head and slowly pumped his ass back and forth to sensations he must have found pleasurable. Then he looked over at me.
"Come here, Luke, undress and bring your cock close to me," he urged. His cheek rested flat on the bed, and his sensuous lips opened for me. I quickly stripped my clothes off and stood naked and hard in front of my new friend. At his nod I slowly pushed my pulsating pecker into his warm mouth. God, if felt good! So warm, so wet. Can girl pussy match a guy's hot mouth? It didn't hurt that Roland's hand began pumping the lower part of my cock, the part that didn't quite fit into his mouth. So I was being sucked and masturbated at the same time. Meanwhile, Bobby kept up his own play, still jacking off Roland with one hand, and finger fucking him with the other.
I had no qualms about coming too soon, but too soon Roland stopped, warning that Bobby's hand on his own member was about to make him shoot his wad, too.
Bobby and Roland said it was my turn for the bed. They had me lie on my side, and while Bobby played with my dong, Roland began using his saliva-covered fingers in my ass. Then he leaned over me and I twisted my head around, and he put his lips against mine, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth.
Bobby pulled back and forth on my penis with his hand, while Roland continued to titillate my anal canal with his fingers. In and out, in and out, I found myself moving to match the rhythm of their fingers on me as well as in me. As I pulled back from Bobby, Roland would push a little farther inside with a finger, and as I retreated from Roland, Bobby pushed down along my stiff shaft. Occassionally he would lean forward to kiss and suck on my erect nipples, which he knew I liked.
In a little while, Bobby managed to somehow scrunch head to foot onto the bed with me, our asses hanging out over the void. He masturbated me for a while, and then popped my cock into his mouth. In a moment he maneuvered his own peter into my mouth.
"How beautiful you two look," Roland exclaimed. "Le six-a-neuf," he said, using the nicer sounding French words for the vulgar, nasty, fun things Bobby and I were doing to each other. I sighed as Roland removed his finger from deep within my anus. He left the room for a moment, and returned with his empty shiskabob lunch plate. His sopped up some of the grease that was still on the plate with his fingers, and smeared the brown, fragrant, greasy juice over his cock.
I don't much go for ass fucking. Bobby and I tried it once in a while, but it had hurt too much to ever let him come inside me. Now I felt Roland's big, slick, warm, greased-up member up against my rear, searching for the opening into my anus. I constricted my asshole for a moment, but Bobby's lips around my cock felt so good, and it was so nice having Bobby's cock in my own mouth, that I decided to relax and let Roland have his way, at least until I couldn't take the pain.
"Mmmm, you are so tight!" Roland said, very slowly forcing his massive shishkabob skewer into the heat of my Dutch oven, centimeter by slippery centimeter, helped along by the grease. Bobby began to pick up speed with his own cock, pumping in and out of my mouth. When he reached around behind me to stroke my ass, even as Roland worked away inside me, I felt my own cum getting close. I picked up the pace with my own cock and began jerking my ass back and forth to reach my climax. Roland, too, was aware of how the two of us were, and his own slick cock suddenly slid completely inside me as I concentrated on my cum, and he started slamming in and out of me. In the back of my mind I was suprised that his slow invasion had been so easy - I didn't mind getting fucked at all! It was partly because it felt good, and partly because I knew it gave Roland such pleasure.
Bobby, with my cock filling up his mouth, made some kind of garbled sound and suddenly shot his load into me. His hot cream poured out of his love pole, and I sucked, and sucked and sucked his beautiful penis, knowing it was probably the last time I would ever taste my best friend's sperm. I drank every salty, protein packed drop. Bobby twitched and moaned and momentarily pulled off of my cock. I felt some of his cum ooze out around my lips even as I continued to swallow the bulk of Bobby's sweet ejaculate.
A moment later, Roland, pressing against me and with his strong hands on my naked hips, blasted his jism into my innards, and what sounded like some sort of Gypsy oath escaped from his lips. Bobby had already put his mouth back on my cock, and I found I couldn't hold back either, though I tired a little, because I wanted the feeling of my boyfriend's mouth on my cock to never end. But a few seconds later, I exploded with a groan into Bobby, even as I felt Roland's hot lips lick and kiss my ass.
When it ended, we were all quiet for a moment. Bobby and I were stretched out with softening cocks in our mouths, and Roland had collapsed over my ass; I could feel his cock begin to slip out of me.
There was a noise at the bedroom door, and I looked up to see the scowling face of Madame Sophia as she stood over the bed.
"I should have forseen this would happen," the psychic lamented.
Thinking about that last day and my last cum with Bobby was having its effect on me now, as I continued jacking off in front of Michael. I felt something touch my thigh, and I opened my eyes to see - surprise! - Michael sitting close to me. His hand was making sexy little circles on my bare, inner thigh as I continued to wonk off. Hey, he liked me!
"You make this so nice," I panted. "Watch me cum for you"
I felt my cum start, and Michael pulled his hand off my bare skin, and as my cock started to spurt its seed, I watched Michael watching me. When I had finished, we leaned into each other and tentatively kissed, our lips barely touching. He started to cry a little bit - "Maybe we shouldn't have done this," he sniffled and I answered "But it felt good, didn't it?" - and we collapsed into each other's arms. We kissed again, and this time our tongues went deep into each other's mouths. Finally, someone who liked to kiss! My hand sought his shrunken boy cock, and I felt it stirring to life again.
Yes, he was one hooked fish, and I knew we'd be spending lots of Saturdays together. I jerked him off, and he put his hand tentatively on my own cock, but I stopped us short of cuming again. I wanted to wait for a while - I wanted us in bed that night. So we stopped and joked about what we were doing, and got dressed at some point, and headed off to the laundry room and washed Barb's panties clean. We wouldn't need them as an excuse later. And really I wanted to make him cum, teach him how good it was when two guys who liked each other played with each other.
Everything might have gone well with Michael and me if those two charlatans on the pier really could have seen into the future and warned me. I was looking forward to a long relationship with Michael (whose parents seemed happily married) when disaster struck that very first Saturday without warning.
I had convinced Michael to spend the night with me, and we called his parents to tell them he'd be home the next morning. While he was standing by an alcove in the hall using the phone, I saw Barb's Nintendo game boy sitting on the alcove shelf.
Barb loves to play electronic games, and she is forever warning me to keep away from her game boy. I've got my own, but, since she was out for the day, and had carelessly left hers lying around, I picked it up, and over the course of the afternoon Michael and I both played a few games.
Later that evening, Michael and I sat in the den watching t.v. He had the game boy now in his hand, with the ear phones down around his neck. I told him I had one pair of panties left under my bed.
"Want to play some more?" I enquired.
Unfortunately, neither of us had heard Barb unexpectedly come home a few moments before. When she did, she walked into the den unannounced, and went into a tirade.
"Just what do you think you've been doing?" she demanded.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You two have been playing with my personal stuff, haven't you?"
I heard Michael make an involuntary gasp.
"You're new friend hasn't been able to keep his hands away from my stuff, either, has he -- well, have you?" she said, turning to look directly at Michael. "Some things," she added, "are very personal."
Michael was turning red, and he assumed, I suddenly realized, that she had overheard us talking about her panties, when what she was really mad about was us playing with her game boy.
"I--I--I--I--I--" Michael stammered, breaking out into a sweat.
"I asked you a question," Barb went on. "Don't you know to keep your hands off things that don't belong to you."
"Gee, I'm so horribly sorry," Michael answered. "I couldn't help myself, it was Luke's idea. We were just trying to have some fun."
"You got your grubby hands all over it, didn't you?"
"We'll, we put it in the washing machine."
"The washing machine!"
"Should we have used the sink?"
"The sink! Are you an idiot?" Barb screeched.
"Listen, just remember next time you're over here remember that you and my creep of a brother aren't to touch anything belongs to me. Do you two understand me? It's for me to play with."
"Absolutely!" Michael promised. "I didn't think girls were into that sort of thing," he added.
"Frankly, girls can get off on those just as easily as guys can," Barb ranted. "In fact, I'm more interested in doing it than Luke is," she went on.
"I can tell," Michael agreed.
"And I don't like it when my brother, or his little friends, try to butt in. Just leave mine alone, and play with Luke's"
"I didn't know Luke had his own," Michael said. "He said you have dozens of them."
"Listen, he's got his, and I've got mine. You play with his, and leave mine alone. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Michael said, "for sure I'll never play with another pair!"
"What are you babbling about?" Barb demanded. "What pair?"
"I am talking about pant..."
"Uh, excuse me," I interrupted. "Give Barb her game boy, Michael."
"What? Oh, sure."
She jerked it out of his hand and stomped out of the room
"Her game boy? She was talking about her game boy?" Michael said, sounding like he was in a daze.
"Yeah, and I just saved your ass, and maybe your balls, and your sweet cock, not to mention mine."
"I'm totally confused," Michael moaned.
He pedaled off for home that night, into the dark, and we never got together again. I haven't found anybody else to hook up with since. Then again, I've still got a pair of Barb's panties, and, hey, maybe I can interest her boyfriend in them after all.
e-mail comments: Dave - plower_power@hotmail.com