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Archive name: myfog.txt (mm-teens, mast, cum-eating)
Authors name: Nomad (No address provided)
Story title : My Fog
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-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 1999. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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My Fog (MM-teens, mast, cum-eating)
Written by Nomad (c) 1999
**
A sensitively written story about two boys and their
sexual exploration of each other.
**
I was 14 in 1990, and life was good: I had a very good
bunch of friends; I enjoyed and excelled at school; the
future looked bright. After the events, which follow,
the future still looked bright, but very, very
different. Hell, the present and the past had seemingly
reshaped themselves into a different form completely -
the proverbial rose-tint of hindsight.
At that time, I had never had a girlfriend - plenty of
female friends, but none that could warrant the
elevation to "girlfriend", that mystical glory being.
"My girlfriend and I..." is a phrase that I used to
dream of being able to say. It has a certain vital
austerity - the simplicity, and to an extent, the
finality of the term conjures a realm of meaning and
well hints at a whole intrigue. Maybe through
cowardice, I could never bring myself to say - "would
you like to go out on a date?" let alone "would you be
my girlfriend?"
Despite all of this though, I was not, at the time
overly bothered - I've always been forward looking, and
knew that in time my glory-being and I would collide,
and at that moment, all doubts and cowardice would be
dispersed, like a heavy fog on a windy day.
Fog, you see, can bring comfort - standing on a foggy
moor brings to me a sense of great solace. It's like a
natural blanket - water particles that obscure the vast
outdoors, and makes the moor seem smaller, more
comfortable. You stand in the centre of a sphere,
delimited by the range of your vision - who knows, or
who cares what lies beyond? So, I was single, and so
were all of my close friends, a situation I guess that
is self-sustaining. You can't "go out" with a friend -
it changes too much in your relationship, and being
close friends, we never really extended our horizons.
(There's that fog again). But, this year was the year
that changed everything.
Philip has been my best friend since we were 13, and
our relationship has always been very open, and very
close. Philip was a handsome boy, with fine brown hair,
brushed forward. He was slightly short for his age, but
well proportioned, and quite athletic, though not
overly enthusiastic about sports. His hair coupled with
his brown almond shaped eyes always caused people to be
reminded of a choir boy, and did have a look about him
that would drive your average Priest wild - caged
innocence, ripe for release into the wilds, and a
slight tamed femininity.
Me, at that time I had a larger frame than most: a
rugby player frame. Brown hair, and grey eyes, I was
not the most handsome of boys, but nor was I ugly. We
used to have sleepovers on a regular basis, and the
tale at hand owes everything to these encounters. As I
cast my mind back to the first time that anything of
note happened between us, I recall vividly our first
discussion about masturbation. It was after school one
Friday, and Philip was to be staying over that night to
keep me company while my parents were away for the
weekend. My brother had been palmed of to some friend,
and we were two 14-year-old boys home alone - we were
expected to get up to mischief! And not wanting to
disappoint whoever might be expecting us to be
mischievous, we were.
At that time I had been masturbating for about three
years (not non-stop I do hasten to add), but I had
never spoken to anyone about it. Tales of going blind,
or growing hair on the palms of the hand never used to
put me off. I used to live for "the feeling", as I
called it then. Of course, initially it was just a
feeling, with no glorious flow of cum, and no mess to
clean up (on the plus side). But, with time, my wrist
action used to produce a tiny bead of a glistening
liquid at the mouth of my hardened cock. (I always have
though of the hole at the top as a mouth, and used to
take great pleasure in making my cock laugh, by
squeezing the head this way, and that! A theory borne
out by thinking of cock-stimulation as telling a great
joke - the best jokes make people spurt a mouthful of
milk everywhere!).
But that day, I told Philip that I had a video with a
naked woman on it; looking back, I laugh at how excited
we got - it was a recorded tape of some TV drama, where
a stripper gets her kit off, and you see her breasts
for all of 30 seconds! Oh, the days of despoiled
innocence!
As we watch this, over and over, I got bold and started
to rub my erection through my trousers "Do you do
this?" I asked, looking pointedly at my cock, then his.
"Ummmm, what do you mean?" he blushed as he said this,
looking more and more the choirboy as his colour
deepened.
"You know exactly what I mean," I rubbed a bit harder,
and then wrapped the material of my shorts around my
stiff six inch cock, so that its profile was obvious.
Philip stared, perhaps at a loss for words. I did feel
a bit guilty at springing this on him, but that said,
it wasn't something that I had planned. I looked at his
shorts and saw a similar, though less defined profile
of an erection.
"Why you asking me that?" he countered, buying himself
time. I knew what the answer would be in the end, but I
just wanted him to say it - it was becoming the object
of this conversation, and it had nothing to do with
"the feeling", or even the woman's jiggling breasts. In
a way, even at that time, I knew that an admission
would lead to other things and I found that that was
what I was longing for.
"No reason. Just wanted to know if you wanted to join
me while we watch the video." I feigned disinterest.
Well, sort of - the feeling that I had at that time is
so lucid in my mind - I had to stop rubbing myself
because I knew that I would cum soon. I was finding the
situation so intense that my entire body was shaking,
making spasmodic and very much visible movements. I was
shaking with pleasure! The first time that that had
ever happened.
"Well ... OK, yes I do it sometimes, but, but, but I
don't want to do it now. Not with another guy around,
its not right."
Well, I'd never done it with anyone else either, but
decided not to argue with him at that moment. This time
I feigned sensitive empathy, and said it was cool. And,
not wanting my pride to be damaged continued as if what
I was doing was perfectly normal. I held off my
ejaculation, and after a while switched the video off,
and suggested that we go and play some computer games
(on my old Amiga).
Despite the video incident, playing the games was just
like normal, and our easy comradeship hadn't changed. I
was glad of that, as I had had a sudden worrying
thought that Philip might have found my actions just
too weird. The day went on as normal, and after eating
a meal of steak and chips, we settled down and watched
a video, some Kung Fu movie or other. Nothing more was
said about masturbation, sex or cocks.
But, I was really trying to think of a way of bring the
subject up again, as subtly as I knew how, but was
drawing blanks at all stages. So, nothing happened,
and we showered and headed for bed - he was to have the
spare bed in my room, despite their being empty beds in
the guest room.
We were accustomed to staying up late, chatting about
this and that. Fond memories I have of those chats, but
it was then that it happened, as we were lying their,
during a moment of quiet where we were both just
looking through the window up at the stars. He turned
to look at me; he stared me straight in the eye.
"You want to masturbate together?" he asked me straight
out. I shuffled into a kneeling position, and my
quickly growing excitement must have been obvious
through the flies of the pajamas that I sleep in.
"Yeah!" was my quick reply, perhaps to quick, so I
tempered the response by adding, "You wanna?" A small
smile appeared on his angelic face, but he didn't get
out from under the sheet.
"Yup. OK. But only through our pajamas right?"
"Sure, if that's what you want."
"You start though." I was perfectly happy to initiate
proceedings, especially seeing as I had already done so
earlier that day. My cock was already fully engorged,
and I started rubbing the head through the thin
material of my pajamas.
As I did this, Philip joined in, and I could see his
pianist's fingers playing a dirge, a slow and almost
mournful tune on the organ of his soul. As his fingers
depressed the meager covering, I saw the contours of a
cock that I so wanted to see and to touch. But to see
and to touch, as I had seen it before in the showers at
school, but never enlarged with passion or excitement.
And I had never ever touched a cock other than my own
ever before.
As I watched, my own activity slowed. Philips face
became very peaceful, and his fingers played on,
working the tune into a baroque magic now, swiftened
and unrelenting. I was fascinated, and my hands now
only massaged my own glans, my foreskin pulled back.
Precum provided the necessary lubrication, the fabric
of my pajamas now damp. Philips brow creased, and he
looked at me, smiling at me again, a little embarrassed
as his hands slowed down.
"I've cum," he announced to me. I was surprised,
firstly at the speed of it all, and secondly at his
forwardness. I had thought him to be very embarrassed
about it all, but evidently it was a simple and easily
overcome barrier. I looked down at his pajamas and now
saw a large damp patch.
"There is a tissue in that box there," and I pointed at
a box of Kleenex, "you can pass me one too, as I'm
almost ready for it."
I redoubled my actions as Philip stood, and I saw the
evidence of his shrinking cock - a sizeable bulge,
probably six inches or so.
"Ahhhhhh!" I simply said as I came. Philip knelt down
next to me and proffered me a tissue, which I accepted
gratefully. He stared at my pajama pants, as I put my
hand beneath the waistband and wiped the cum away.
Philip got a tissue for himself and did the same,
discarded it in the bin, then went back to bed.
"That was intense" I said "I've never done that in
front of anyone but you" it sounded lame, but I was at
a loss for a quality sound bite.
"I know" he replied, and that smile returned to his
face. He snuggled up in his own side of the bed, and I
could tell by the way that he held his body that he was
content with what he had done.
He closed his eyes, but I continued to watch him, his
body profiled by the thin sheets. My cock slept limply
and slightly damp on my thigh as I watched. After a
time, I sighed and got out of bed to go to the
lavatory. I passed the bin that we had placed our cum
soaked tissues is, and could not resist reaching down
and picking Philip's tissue up. I sneaked to the
bathroom, and unwrapped my unexpected gift.
His cum, silky white and pungent had an allure. I
lifted it to my nose and sniffed it - a heady perfume,
and my cock began to stir again. Its extension had a
mimic - my tongue slowly unfurled, and I held it steady
just before it touched the liquid. Should I? I did - in
slow motion, my tongue pressed flat against the cum on
the tissue, and the taste, the smell and the texture
filled my senses. My tastebuds were enveloped - the
flavour trickled from the front of my mouth to the
back: salt, sour, sweet. Sweet, sour, salt. My mind
broke it into its constituent units, showed me the
truth, then swirled it back to its glorious whole! My
nose grabbed the scent, and the silkiness of it filled
my mouth!
I groaned. Then, quietly: "Oh, Philip!"
"Yes?" I turned, my engorged cock coming to bear on
Philip through my pajama's flies. I was discovered!
"How long have you been there?" I asked. (I had
thought, in my guilt soaked state to grab a towel and
cover myself, or at least draw some material over my
cock! Fool!)
"Long enough."
My heart stopped, and I dreaded what was to come next -
some denouncement of me as his friend perhaps?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 13