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Warning, this story may contain explicit descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.
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Part IV
By Chris Carr
Copyright ©
Moments later, I noticed his head bobbing past the clubhouse window and I let out a sigh of relief. He slipped inside, locking the door behind him then turned to face me, a smirk on his face. Immediately I approached him and started pulling his t-shirt over his head.
“But why I got to get naked?” He half-heartedly protested.
“You don’t want Melvin to be the winner do you?” I said, tossing his shirt aside.
He cast me a suspicious stare but offered no protest when I stooped to pull his tennis off. God, boys and their stupid competitiveness, I chuckled, slipping his shoe off. He actually raised his other foot to help me, an unwitting ally, now that it involved beating Melvin. I pulled it off, then grasped his socks, figuring I’d go whole hog.
His toes wiggled slightly when the cool room air hit them. He gazed wonderingly at me, as I played my hand softly over the sole of one of his feet. Just one of my developing fetishes. I finally stood and started to work on his pants. As before, he’d sprouted an eager erection. It tugged at his pristine, white, underwear, poking them outward, a wet spot forming at the head.
It seems most of the boys I had that summer were luscious chocolate delights. A bit lighter than Randy and at least two shades lighter than Melvin, Jeffrey was a delicious mocha brown. Although my developing preference was leaning towards the slim, small framed type, I nevertheless found Jeffrey’s solid build alluring.
Pulling down his pants, I studied his body, the strange blend of left over baby fat and budding muscles rather interesting. He stepped out of them, the slightest evidence of giddiness on his face as he watched me go for his shorts. His hard inches literally snapped upwards when I pulled his shorts down.
“Man, you ain’t gon’ last no time, you don’t slow down,” I cautioned, observing his throbbing length.
“It’s because,” He defended.
“Because what?”
“Because…. because I’m trying not to,” He explained, shuffling from one foot to the other. I looked at him, his anxious dick bobbling in front of him and just shook my head.
“Check, why don’t you sit on this box?” I suggested, motioning to one of the higher boxes.
He perched on it, his feet just touching the ground, his dick sitting straight up between his legs now. “Why’d you last so long the last time?” I queried.
“’Cause.”
“’Cause what?”
“’Cause… ain’t no dude ever…” He lowered his head, his words drifting off.
“Oh,” I said, understanding. “I think I know what to do then.”
I approached him and stood between his legs. He watched me like a hawk, his dick wilting a little. Removing my shirt, I opened my pants right in front of him. His eyes wide, he watched as I pulled my dick out and laid it on top of my briefs. Like his, it was hard and sat straight up.
Jeffrey’s eyes bugged and he looked away, a bit unnerved. I squatted before him, grabbed his semi-soft dick and began stroking it. He looked down, his eyes widening again when he saw my dick. Looking off, into space he stared at nothing in particular, anything to avoid my nakedness. My plan was working and his dick did a back and forth performance, straining upwards, preparing to blow when he looked away then wilting slightly, every time he looked down at my wickedly hard dick.
Slipping my hand up and down his throbbing pole, I worked my fist up and around his sensitive crown. He’d hiss a little, his toes wiggling when I did, glancing down at times, then looking away again. His dick went mercilessly hard at one point and I could feel him trying to will it down. Turning to stare at my dick, it lost some of its edge but he was getting closer by the minute.
“Dang Sonny,” He gasped, my skilled hand finding his spot.
His toes wiggled, then curled and his balls drew up, becoming a single, tight sack. All along I’d been watching the second hand on my watch and so far, he was just short of four minutes. As the second hand swept past the twelve, into the fourth minute, Jeffrey became desperate, looking for anything to deter his swiftly approaching release.
To my surprise, he raised his foot and gingerly passed his toes down the length of my hardness. Temporarily distracted, my hand slowed and his dick miraculously avoided the moment of relief. His face screwed into a grimace of disgust, he continued stroking the underside of my dick with both his toes and the sole of his foot, bringing me swiftly closer to a rip-roaring release.
It was a masterful move, one that almost worked, that is, until I realized what he was doing. Despite all indications, my boy hadn’t jumped the fence and joined the few, the proud, the gay. No, Jeffrey had found me out, surmising that I was the vulnerable one, if he found the right stimuli. And boy had he found it!
Pulling myself together, I ignored how wonderful his foot was feeling on my achingly hard dick and fisted my hand around the head of his dick once more. He shuddered, the toes on the manipulating foot curling as it slowed. I’d learned a few things about giving a handjob by then and used them to my advantage.
Jeffrey’s bold maneuver buying him a few extra seconds, he was heading into his fifth minute now. But his dick was once again bone hard, the head even oozing a few drops of clear pre-cum.
“Dang!” He gasped, fighting to hold on. He was no match for my talented hand though and in seconds, he was gripping the edges of the box and writhing his footjob all but forgotten now.
Spearing wickedly upwards, his torpedo hardened, the head growing larger as he approached nirvana. His feet raising aimlessly in the air, I took advantage of one and rubbed the underside of my dick across the upraised sole. Even that wasn’t enough to bring Jeffrey back, his balls so tight they appeared to be retracting within his near hairless groin. With a mighty buck, he let out a whoop, the slit in his dick opening to allow the first rocket of cum. Jeffrey hissed and cussed under his breath, sensing his cum, ripped from his balls. Like a powerful cannon, his dick would recoil, then spear upwards, spewing thick blobs of warm cum into the air.
It was a sight to see and all I could take. Scraping my dick up the sole of his foot, I let out a gasp when the head bumped against his wiggling toes. Jeffrey’s dick firing another fountain of pent up cum into the air, he jumped when he felt my dick spit hot cum between his toes. Yanking his foot away, he shook it in a desperate effort to fling the cum off. I grabbed his foot with my free hand and pulled it back to my sputtering dick.
“Ugggh!” He giggled, then hissed when I stroked up his hard shaft and around the head of his spasming dick again.
As my dick slammed another volley of warm goo between his toes, he writhed about, his dick caught in my hand as the last dregs of pent up frustration dribbled out. Both of us basking in the sweet afterglow of heavenly release, Jeffrey ran out of cum first, then me. His foot drenched in hot, sticky jism, he made another grimace. But he’d made an equally big mess, his stomach, legs and balls each showing indications of his climax.
“How long was that?” He eagerly inquired.
“Umm….”
“Aww, com’on Sonny, didn’t you time it?!!”
I glanced down at my watch and made a few calculations in my head, recalling that he’d barely made five minutes, the last time I checked. Deducting to account for ‘basking in afterglow’ time, I rounded up in his favor and announced, “I think it was just over five minutes.”
“Five minutes! Aw hell, that’s all?!”
“Yeah, Jeffrey, you was ‘bout to start shooting at four,” I related. “Till you…” I motioned at his cum soaked foot.
“Ugggh Sonny, how much did you cum?!!” He giggled, strings of the substance dangling from his toes.
Deciding we needed a good cleanup, we found some swimming trunks leftover in the pool house from a previous party and pulled them on. Jeffrey hopped on one foot to the pool, his cum drenched foot held awkwardly midair as he jumped in first, wiggling the other foot extra hard to clean it off as he swam. The ramifications of what he’d started not even dawning on me at that moment, I watched his foot and felt my dick get hard again as I jumped in to join him.
Having added boxing to his repertoire of competitive sports, Melvin was now in the habit of sparring off with everyone he saw. Fist raised in front of his face, he was a nuisance, constantly looking for a challenge.
“Com’on Sonny,” He’d taunt, circling me with his fists raised. One look at that smug puss of his and all I’d want to do was bash it in. God, boys and all their stupid competitions. Was it that sudden surge of juvenile testosterone or their eternal stupidity that prompted these actions? To this day, I’m not certain.
Anyway, Melvin was a pest and I looked forward to beating him at the one competition he couldn’t defeat me in. Actually, it gave me great pleasure to lie on my bed at night and, in addition to a good whack-off to the memory of whatever boy I’d jerked off that day, imagine how pissed it was making Melvin to hear his ‘record’ was being trounced.
Things had really heated up, following Jeffrey’s initial attempt at capturing the title. “Did he really go ten minutes?” Some boy would ask and I’d just chuckle. He was really soaking it for all it was worth, I thought.
The chatter continued, various boys making different inquiries but my attention was focused on the newest boy in our group, Russell. He’d become somewhat a favorite of mine for special reasons. A bright eyed teen, he had an unassuming personality that made him blend into the background. It wasn’t until we played “robot” I became aware how special he could be.
Ok, so you’ll know, “robot” was this game that, sort of, grew out of a game called “freeze”. Freeze was played by spinning a person around then suddenly releasing them to “freeze” in the position they landed. Once everyone was ‘positioned’, it was up to the spinner to make them somehow move, and everything was fair. Tickling worked best for me and I became rather good at finding each boy’s weak spot. And it goes without saying, I eventually found a way to sneak some subtle sexual touches into the mix. But that’s another story.
I was playing freeze with Russell one day when slowly I gathered, this could be more. Russell was so compliant, willingly allowing my manipulations, it occurred to me to try something else. After another spin, I released his hand and watched him lock into position, freezing in place. He’s so cute, I thought, observing his smooth butterscotch brown skin and puppy dog features.
Russell stared into space, a human statue planted on my lawn. I circled him, my dick stirring when I saw his pert ass, then stopped in front of him. Now mind you, we weren’t alone. Lyle and several of the boys from the club were running up and down the street, tackling each other in the yard to wrestle and horseplay. Sometimes, they’d run right past us and at other times, I’d hear them laughing behind us on the grass as they tussled and tumbled. But all my attention was on Russell and his cute, alluring physique.
Standing in front of him, I announced, “You are now my Robot.” Russell didn’t move, his eyes straight ahead.
“Robot,” I said, “stand up.”
To my surprise, Russell fell right into the role and stood, just like a Robot. His eyes still staring blindly ahead, he froze erect, his arms straight out like a Robot. I started to get a little excited and a long period passed as I considered the possibilities.
“Robot, turn around,” I ordered.
With stiff, stilted movements, Russell turned until he was facing away from me. “Walk,” I said, and on cue, Russell lifted a foot and started to walk, legs all stiff and arms extended like the Frankenstein monster.
“Robot stop,” I said, just before he walked into the palm tree in our front yard.
“Walk to the garage,” I said, watching as Russell robot walked to the garage. Lewd thoughts running through my mind, I’d decided to direct him to the clubhouse when Lyle and Melvin ran by. Suddenly, Melvin stopped and circled back to watch Russell.
“What’s he doin’?” He asked, a smirk on his face. Judging by that smirk and observing the rest of the boys gravitating towards us, I decided revealing our little game might not be wise. I could just see Melvin making fun of us for playing a silly child’s game. And besides, I wanted to keep this between me and Russell so I thought fast and said,
“Yeah that’s it Russell, but remember, Frankenstein be growlin’ too. Like this…” I stepped beside him and mimicked his motions, adding a trance-like growl.
“Frankenstein,” Verdel yelped, feigning fear. “Ahhhhh! Frankenstein!” He yelled, running away.
The others took his cue and ran away likewise, leaving Melvin to gaze suspiciously at us. Should he run like the rest of the boys or laugh at how absurd this game seemed. When he observed Randy running and yelling like the other boys, he relented, and took off in fake panic too.
The hour late, I strained beneath the covers, sweat gathering under my armpits. Frustrated, I tugged at my uncooperative boy tool, searching desperately for the right combination of strokes to reach blessed relief. At 15, I hadn’t mastered the control over my wayward dick and on several occasions, I found myself stroking for several minutes, unable to twist my hand the right way to make it explode. Even more disappointing were the times I’d surprise myself with a weak orgasm, my tool quivering and dribbling dollops of warm cum as I huffed in utter frustration. That toe wiggling, body shuddering orgasm ever elusive, I never knew just where I’d find it and tonight was no different.
As I wiggled beneath covers, my dick slightly sore from my relentless effort, I was startled when Lyle called out,
“I saw y’all.”
I froze, hoping he’d think I was sleep. The windows were opened and I could hear crickets outside. A slight breeze blew through the tree outside our window, rustling its leaves but nothing else. I stared at the ceiling, waiting but Lyle continued.
“When y’all was in the clubhouse?”
“Y’all who?” I finally countered.
“You and Melvin.”
To be continued....
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