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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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Handjobs

Part VII

By Chris Carr

Sean lay quietly on the cool floor, his sultry eyes holding mine as I lightly manipulated him. Experience had taught me that a boy’s dick had a hair trigger response and that the simplest fingerings could set it off.

That he’d regained arousal so quickly intrigued me but it wasn’t in his favor. Already his toes were wiggling, a sign I’d picked up that meant excitement. Forewarned, I lessened my grip to merely graze his swollen pipe.

It swelled, straining towards my hand, trying to gain more contact. I’d been watching his balls, which also fascinated me and, to my surprise, they seemed to be tighter than when we’d started. Gingerly encircling them in my hand, I noted the way Sean gasped in ecstasy. Damn, the balls make you hot too? I marveled, lessening my hold.

Then I grabbed them more fully and pulled. Reluctantly they tugged away from his warm groin until I could just about work my hand between them and his pelvis. Sean groaned and writhed, sitting up on his elbows. His legs cocked, he raised his knees spreading them more.

I pulled harder on his balls while chancing a gentle stroke of his dick. My eyes widening, it slowly dawned on me that I’d somehow diminished his impatient need. Something about stretching his balls pulled him away from the brink. I quickly catalogued that information away for later use.

The next time he started wiggling and gasping, racing towards a gusher, I grabbed his balls and pulled on them. He let out a frustrated groan, his eyes flicking open to slits to glare at me but his release was successfully held at bay.

Before I knew it, the five minutes had passed and a whole new door of boy stimulation opened. I could not only make a boy cum, I’d now discovered how to do it, when and how I chose. Holding Sean at the point of climax, I was a quick study in the mechanics of male ejaculation, waiting until well past the five minutes to let him release. In his frustration he’d started tugging at my hand, desperately trying to dislodge its grip on his cum laden balls.

At nine minutes, I let them go and they snapped back, hugging his groin. He shuddered, his dick swelling wickedly in my hand. Bracing himself on his outstretched hands, he pushed his pelvis upwards, his eyes closed. I paid special attention to that knot on the underside of his dick, the one I’d found seemed to be the trigger spot.

Sean’s chest rapidly rose and fell and then he let out a surprised gasp. Bucking, he threw his hips upward, his eyes flinging open to stare at his dick. He whimpered, still bucking then his dick lobbed a liquid pellet into the air. It soared, plitting against his chest, just below the left collar bone.

With more whimpers and whines, he let fly, another shower of boy cum belting out. His ass was nearly off the ground by the time he hit the summit. From my vantage point I took it all in, storing the images for my nightly strum session.

He finally came down, his ass lowering until it sat comfortable on the bare floor once more. Collapsing on his elbows he stared at me, astonished. I later learned that he’d never shot like that. Cum dribbling down his heaving chest, he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Dang, where’d you learn that?” He marveled.

“Look,” Jeffrey said, his voice low. We were in the club house and he’d just retrieved something from his pants pocket. The old pool still keeping me in half naked boys, I sneaked a lusty leer at him when he got up.

With all the boys I’d been exposed to, it was becoming difficult avoiding my growing obsession. My every thought was about some sexual aspect of a boy. How would he look naked or, wonder how big his is?

But opportunities often eluded me, the best made plans faltering, some times at the last minute. It would be years later before I learned, the best opportunities were those that just happened on their own.

I stared at the cigarette in Jeffery’s hand, a little puzzled. Where’d he get something like that and what did he intend to do with it? Reading the look on my face, he supplied,

“It’s my uncle’s.”

He additionally produced a book of matches and, popping the cigarette between his lips, opened it.

“He let’s me smoke with him,” He continued, striking a match.

“Let’s you smoke with him?”

He lit the cigarette, a smug look on his face as he inhaled. “He’s cool like that,” Jeffrey noted, blowing out a plume of smoke. Coughing, I regarded him warily. In those days smoking was a prime offence, the consequences usually severe. Besides, I couldn’t understand the logic in inhaling a bunch of smoke, just to blow it out again. Especially rancid, stale smoke like that he repeatedly exhaled.

Developing pecs in his youthful, bird chest, rising and falling with each toke, he happily partook, glancing every few minutes up at me like I might be that representation of criticism he expected. I wasn’t, my questioning face possibly misleading. Some part of me perceived this as a “guy” thing and as my alternative orientation took shape, being one of the guys held more and more significance.

He never offered me a toke and I took that moment of silence as a chance to examine recent events. Already word of Sean’s record was producing shock waves among the ranks. How’d he do it, some asked? Was it true, others insisted?

As we sat, sounds of the water we’d recently disturbed gently splashing outside the pool room window, I smiled at Sean’s impossible feat. Had Melvin heard? Secretly I was hoping it really ate at him, knowing he was being trounced, more than once. What would he do, I wondered? And what about Randy? Damn, Randy and that big…

Jeffrey had apparently finished his cigarette and moved on to other things. A healthy bulge gathering under his skimpy bathing suit, it caused a wicked swell in the fabric. Silently resting, he stared off into the distance, seemingly oblivious to the mound developing in his trunks. I gazed at the lewd imprint of his coiled hose and it slowly dawned on me, I was being presented another chance at sex. At that age, it baffled me because I was so aggressive. Things didn’t happen until I made them happen, I’d surmised, keeping an ever vigilant watch for opportunities.

But there it was, staring me in the face. Sluggish, I’m not sure how long I sat there, staring at that lump. Jeffrey gave me nothing, staring idly in the distance but there was no missing the implications. In all of the speculations about beating the record, I suppose I’d sort of forgotten about Jeffrey. Yeah, we’d had a hot session, one that was mutually satisfying, an added plus, but he didn’t exactly fit the profile of what I was drawn to that summer.

Either he’d heard about the record or — and I’m still excited by the prospect — he was secretly a freak, just like me. What was it about boys that wouldn’t let them admit their fondness for boy-on-boy sex? They clearly liked it and, in some cases pursued it, why all the games? It’s a question that plagues me to this day.

Despite my need for acknowledgment, I found my need for boy dick greater. Pulling the band of his red trunks back, I peered at his member. Straining against the fabric, the head lay yet concealed, the shaft extending to the left, over his smooth leg. A small shudder was all he allowed when I reached in and grasped it.

Warm and rigid, his erection writhed in my hand like a snared snake. I tucked his shorts beneath his taut balls and slowly pulled his length through my clutching fist. It leaped, rapidly approaching release, the head oozing clear droplets. If Jeffrey’s intention was to beat the present record, he shouldn’t have waited until he was so hot, I reasoned.

He wiggled about, his toes doing likewise as his dick stood erect, ready to pop. Was I that good or were these boys just horny little devils? Jeffrey shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut then he whooped as a heavy dollop of boy cum shot from his dick, plopping onto his quivering stomach.

“Whacha do that for?” He griped, minutes after the last ejaculation. I looked at him, incredulous. I’d never figure boys out.

“You was trying to beat the record?” I mocked. Well duh, his face replied. “Yeah right. Like you could’ve gone anything over three minutes,” I taunted, pointing at the mess he’d made.

“Maybe if you’da slowed down,” He charged, standing. “Let’s get in the pool so I can get rid of this,” he said, heading for the door.

“Wait!” I said, rushing to stop him.

God, boys were so clueless. I mean, here he was, carelessly heading out the door with cum on his torso but unable to acknowledge how much he liked this shit. I found an old rag and wiped him off then followed him to the pool.

We played in the water, time on our hands until the sun lowered in the sky, on its way into the horizon. Mom came out somewhat later and informed me she was due at some woman’s meeting. The women’s knitting circle or something like that.

“You want to stay home,” She reminded me, “you guys have to come out of the pool.” It was one of our family’s hard fast rules, one I rarely argued with because I suppose I realized it made good sense. Besides, having Jeffrey — make that… a boy — home alone with me was an excellent substitute for playing in the pool, so I readily agreed.

We exited, retiring to my room where we sprawled on the floor to watch a little TV. The house was quiet, Jeffrey and I the only occupants so naturally, I drifted. Who had the biggest dick, I thought, going with the first thing that popped in my head. That was easy, Randy. Ok, who shoots the most, I considered? Hmm, well, Randy really blew a lot, but Sean got off a good load too. But Sean got a second one, which Randy didn’t do. Oh well, his loss, I shrugged, repositioning my hardening dick in my trunks.

Ok, who’s dick did you like the best? I felt myself considering Melvin’s little boy-toy, but I batted that down. Randy’s dick was really amazing, I thought, recalling how mesmerized I was by my first uncut dick. But actually, Caesar’s dick was the best of both worlds… uncut and just the right size for…

Jeffrey was nudging me with his foot. Foot freak that I was, I sat staring at it. He had nice, sinewy feet with high arches and long, sensuous toes. I don’t think Jeffrey had a clue why I was staring at his foot and it wasn’t until he tapped me on the shoulder the spell was broken. I looked up at him and he had this shit-eating grin on his face.

“What?”

“Do it,” He whispers, his voice heavy with lust.

“The record?”

He nodded enthusiastically, a bulge developing in his shorts. Just a small note here: Sometimes, I couldn’t believe how randy boys could be. Sure, I jacked off like a feign but I was a freak in the making. These boys, who were supposed to be “straight”, could go at it better than any freak off the boulevard!

“Take them off,” I motioned, indicating his swimming trunks. He raised up, snatching his shorts off his hips, his dick wobbling about at full mast. I stared at it, wondering why I wasn’t pouncing on him. I even gave his throbbing length a half-hearted stroke or two but I couldn’t find the will. Maybe it was the fact that Jeffrey had so willingly offered reciprocation during our last tryst. Or that he didn’t quite ring my bell the way Sean or Randy did but I felt like I wanted something more.

“I’ll do you if you do me,” I proposed.

Good Lord, the face that he gave me. I think I could’ve asked him to smash his nose in my warm shit and got a more favorable response. His dick wilted a little and he sat speechless until I finally added,

“You wanna beat the record?”

“Is that what Sean did?” Why do they always ask what the other kid did?

“Can’t tell you that.” I wasn’t giving him anything. He sat there, looking at me like the poor kid from Oliver. Please sur… may I have more?

“Dang Jeff, you did it last time,” I protested.

“With my foot,” He countered.

“Dog! Your foot, your hand, what’s the difference?”

He didn’t budge, that look of utter incredulity on his face lessening some. Looking back, I think I was trying to get some sort of acknowledgement from a “straight” boy. To make him admit that he liked this in some way. So to help him out, I raised up and snatched my trunks off too. My dick stood straight up, eagerly anticipating a little mutual hand action, whereas Jeffrey’s lingered somewhere between hard and soft. I scooted close, positioning between his legs (which I had to spread, by the way) swinging my legs outward to straddle his. We sat face to face, his legs extended beneath mine.

In spite of himself, his dick responded, arching upwards until it towered erect between his legs. Because I knew he still insisted on playing his silly “I’m straight” game, I seized his hand and placed it around my pulsating pud. Before I could get my hand equally around his achingly hard pipe however, he moved his hand away.

“Com’on, Jeff,” I coaxed, picking his hand up again. “You know you’ll like it.”

He offered no significant protest although his eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t looking me in the eye anymore. Which all served to make me even harder and more excited. Clutching his growth in my skillful hand, I slipped up on it, ringing the head with my patented teen boy corkscrew. He gasped, his hand reflexively squeezing my dick in turn.

The entire prospect such a rare pleasure, I’d practically forgot about the record. My eyes bouncing back and forth between his stiff pole and his hands around mine, we were rounding the corner faster than a pair of prize race horses.

“Slow down,” Jeffrey gasped, his eyes saucers.

“Oh yeah!” I chuckled, slowing my strokes. “Spread your legs,” I instructed, scooting closer between them.

Reaching beneath his distended column, I grabbed his tender balls in my other hand. He jerked, his eyes popping wider. Looking down, he had a puzzled look on his face as he watched me slowly pull on his taut orbs.

“’Choo doin’?” He winced, his cherub face uncomfortable.

“It makes you last longer,” I said, pulling even more. He squirmed, his dick never waning in my grip, a confused look still on his face. Grimacing he inquired,

“This what you did with Sean?”

“Yeah, so keep it to yourself if you want to keep your record.”

Listening to his soft gasps, I continued stroking his throbbing poker stick. When I finally worked a little space between his balls and his groin his sense of urgency seemed to diminish some, but not much. Was it my hand and how talented it was or the wicked taboo of doing something so decadent with a boy, your best friend no less, that made them so hot? I wasn’t sure but what was evident was that all of them couldn’t last longer than a snowball in hot water.

His hand leisurely passing up and down my quivering inches, I likewise was drawing rapidly near the point of no return. Every time I looked down to watch his hand stroking me, it made me even hotter, realizing it was a boy, my friend, no less. By my own cunning I’d progressed to having a boy, who’d probably never under other circumstances, give me a handjob.

We faced each other, our heads down, staring at our twin rigidities, his hand moving slower and slower while mine held him at bay, searching out his hairtrigger response. He writhed about, his toes curling and wiggling, excited gulps of air causing his chest to periodically hitch. He was sensing something he couldn’t quite explain, the need to explode equally matched by the restraints being placed on his randy apparatus. Minutes passed and soon he was gaining on Sean’s miraculous record.

Unlike Sean, Jeffrey never reached to remove my hand however his face said it all. Like someone who’d been given a dose of nasty medicine while receiving the best blow job in the world.

Wiggling and writhing, he’d all but forgotten my dick. But that was ok because I was so close, all I needed was a whiff of wind across the bow and I would’ve blown skyrockets. Each boy different, it was quite phenomenal watching the moment of release approach.

At eight minutes, Jeffrey started a slight pant, the nipples on his chest standing out in bold relief. I yanked on his balls, pulling them down as much as I could but I knew he wouldn’t last long. I studied the clock on my nightstand, counting the minutes out audibly in an effort to make him last. By nine minutes his anxiety matched his urgent desire, causing him to wiggle and shake while his chest heaved and sweat formed on his pecs.

“Sonny,” He wheezed, “I… I gotta go!” I let go of his balls and with that, he let fly. Whimpering and shaking he squeezed his eyes shut and bore down, like someone taking a big dump. His dick stood even more erect then pulsed in my hand as it pumped out a huge projectile of hot cum.

It sailed upwards for some time then finally descended on the floor, just beside my right leg. Harrumphing, he squeezed again, firing another squirt, then another and another until I lost count. Cum flew, skeeting high and wide like I’d not seen him do before. He wheezed, curled his toes and whimpered, obviously enjoying one of the best nutts in his life.

We eventually made it to the shower to clean up, my equally responding dick having made a real mess.

Lyle’s two weeks at summer camp providing me some wonderful alone time with various boys, I was regretting his swiftly approaching return. True, I saw little to nothing of Randy and Melvin in his absence but I never would’ve had that incredible session with Jeffrey, had Lyle been around.

Summer vacation was drawing to a close, the days long and hot, and I was still reaping the benefits of superior cunning and animal lust. Without even mentioning the record, a number of boys had returned, some for their third and forth jobs from ol’ Sonny’s talented hand and some for their second.

Alex, who could never get enough, Jason, and Verdel for his first. You know, I think Verdel was West Indian, now that I think about it. Or, at least of West Indian decent. He had tight, almond shaped eyes, high cheek bones and curly hair like sheep wool. A mahogany brown boy, his skin was a smooth, reddish brown.

Verdel was a little scamp. He could climb anything in a flash, then dangle from it with one hand like a chimp on speed. Trees, walls, fences… he even hung from a balcony one time. That got him in big trouble because this little old lady that stayed on the first floor just about had a heart attack when she saw his legs dangling in front of her window. She called the police and they “detained” all of us… it was a big mess.

I think it was that day he hung from the balcony he caught my attention. His shirt pulled up from his pants and I could see the taut muscles on his smooth stomach. What’s more, it looked like he was getting hard. I didn’t know it then but, apparently, heights made Verdel horny. All I saw was that little tent in his pants and the trigger was tripped.

The next time I got Verdel alone, I talked him into climbing the tree in my back yard. “But not too high!” I cautioned, watching him scamper. Like I’d hoped, he got to a sturdy branch and swung down. Hanging by one hand, he looked down at me, a look of satisfaction on his face. I’d positioned beneath him, one goal in mind. I waited until that tent started to form in his pants and asked him how long he could hang like that? He hunched his shoulders, clueless. So this was just recreation for him, I speculated?

Mom was in the front, ironing and folding clothes while watching her soaps so I knew she’d be adequately occupied. Besides, the only way she could’ve seen us would’ve been to open the back door and walk around the house. I would’ve heard her coming long before she got there so I felt relatively safe.

Verdel’s hanging there like Tarzan, his skin tight shorts now sporting an unavoidable tent so I reached up and unfastened them…

To be continued....

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