All the usual disclaimers apply:
+This story is a work of fiction. If you think it is real, you have a very active imagination.
+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do so.
+Scenes of sexual activity involving a male teen and a young boy are represented. Do not read further if this offends you.
+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.
If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:
hunterjoe45@yahoo.com
I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Support Nifty! Joe
ADAM, HOME ALONE (copyright 2009, Joe Hunter)
Adam put his bike away and after brushing a spill of blond hair off his forehead pulled out the back door key he wore on a string around his neck.
Ever since his mother had started working when he was little he had been coming home to an empty house after school. Now at least it was only three times a week because he had soccer practice the other two days. He would have much preferred playing everyday - and he would at soccer camp once summer vacation started. But until then he was stuck with the stupid rec. league - practice twice a week, games on Saturday - and lucky to have that. His mother's dislike of competitive sports was so great she had refused to let him play football. Getting her permission for soccer had been a major victory.
Letting himself into the kitchen Adam paused, listening for suspicious noises. With the back door left open as an escape route he made a quick tour of the first floor: dining area, living room, front hall - no robbers or bad guys lurking anywhere waiting to get him. Once he was satisfied, he closed the back door and then returned to the front hall where he stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up. Now there were just the bedrooms.
On TV Adam had seen a program about a father who had shot his kids one by one as they came home from school. It had scared him. It was such a weird thing to think about. There you were, talking to your dad just like always, maybe telling him about your soccer game. Then - Blam! You were on the floor, eyes open and staring, except you weren't seeing anything because you were dead. Would you feel it? Would you even have time to be surprised?
Except for snapshots, Adam had no memory of his father. But, what if he went into his bedroom and his father was there, waiting for him? Should he run away? If his father was trying to be nice, running away might make him mad. But what if he didn't run away and his father shot him in the head?
Adam knew it was stupid, but he went up the stairs cautiously anyway, doing a quick check of his mother's room and the bathroom before stopping at the entrance to his own bedroom. Heart pounding, he listened for nearly a minute and then peeked around the side of the door.
There was no one there - at least no one he could see. But maybe there was someone hiding in the closet. He tiptoed in, holding his school backpack ready to throw just in case. He pulled open the closet door. Nothing - only his clothes hanging from the rack. Adam poked behind them and then, with a relieved sigh, closed the door. His room was safe - for now anyway. He went over to his homework desk and dropped the backpack on the floor beside it.
The desk held a single drawer. Adam drew it out pushing aside old homework papers, extra pencils, half-used erasers and a plastic ruler with one end broken. From the back he took a rolled up leather belt and after sliding the drawer closed he held the belt to his nose inhaling its scent. Instantly he was back at camp the summer before, sitting next to Brant his counselor who was showing him how to cut the leather.
"See?" Brant had said, leaning so close their bodies touched. "That's how you do it." His arm had gone around Adam's shoulders... And then...
Adam was sure nothing had ever felt that good before in his whole life. Brant was the coolest, most awesome person in the world and in less than a month Adam would be seeing him again. He could hardly wait for vacation to start. This time soccer camp was going to be totally awesome because he was bunking in Brant's cabin. Brant had promised him, and just knowing that soon he could be with his hero all the time made Adam feel like the luckiest kid in the world.
The previous fall, when his mother had refused to let him play football, Adam had been terrified she might forbid soccer camp as well. He didn't know what he would have done if she had - maybe killed himself or something. Watching his friends play football from the sidelines had hurt enough to make him cry a few times; but the loss of soccer and a chance to see Brant would have been so awful he couldn't even think about it.
Weeks of begging had finally persuaded his mother to let him be on the soccer team and attend camp, but he was constantly afraid she might change her mind.
Adam stared for a while out the window over his desk and then went to stand next to his bed. He knew boys whose fathers had guns. Stealing one wouldn't be that hard.
Holding an imaginary gun in his hand, Adam pressed the muzzle to the side of his head. "One, two, three..." he whispered. Then he pulled the trigger.
Jerking his head to the side he crumpled, falling onto the bed to lay sprawled, eyes staring at the ceiling, mouth open, pretending to be dead. It would be easy, he thought. You wouldn't feel anything.
The silence around him went on and on. Adam held his breath until the sound of a car passing on the street made him turn his head. Then he stretched and pulled up his loose shirt, studying his slender body in the light slanting across it from the window.
He wished he were bigger. Tightening himself, he made his little swells of muscle harden and then did a partial set up so he could run a fingertip along the grooves that appeared in his flat stomach. He had a good build for his size, he knew, and he could beat anyone at school in sit-ups and chin-ups. But he was still just average height. Lots of boys were taller. He wished he would grow more.
Adam stretched out again, spreading his legs apart as far as he could, and slid a palm over the smooth skin of his chest. With his fingertips he brushed the tiny hard points of his nipples. Each touch sent a tingling sensation into his groin where something else was hardening, too. Squeezing his butt to stiffen himself even more, he pushed a hand down into his shorts and lifted his tight underwear briefs. Freed of constriction his penis straightened into a quivering rigidity and he touched the hard shaft to stroke it. There were at least three hours before his mother came home. Plenty of time to play the game...
Getting up, Adam kicked off his Nikes, which he wore without socks, and then unsnapped and unzipped his shorts. Over the years, he had found ways of entertaining himself when he was alone after school and the game he began now was one that had evolved gradually. Gripping his unfastened shorts to keep them from falling off, bare feet silent on the carpet, he tiptoed to the door of his room and peeked out into the hall. Beyond the stairs lay his mother's room. If he could reach the phone by her bed he could call for help. But the bad guys were waiting in ambush... He crept forward...
Be quiet, he told himself. Don't make a sound. Get past the stairs...
Too late! A flash of gunshots...!
"Uhhhhhh..." Clutching his chest, Adam dropped to his knees and pitched forward into a headfirst slide down the stairs that stripped him of his shorts. At the bottom he rolled lifelessly, ending up in a sprawl, pants twisted on his ankles and shirt bunched around his chest. He held his breath, staring straight up so he would look dead while the cool touch of air on his almost naked body stiffened the boner that was tenting his briefs. He pictured himself with a bullet hole in his chest and blood trickling from his open mouth - extra details he had once tried adding with ketchup, but there had been such a mess he had never tried it again. Then he imagined someone, maybe someone like Brant, finding him, stripping him and then carrying his limp body into the living room. Because he was dead he wouldn't know anything about it. His naked body would just lie there wherever it was dumped, eyes staring, not moving...
Adam stirred and rubbed a palm on his smooth stomach, sliding his hand down until it was in his briefs. Taking hold of his rigid shaft he stroked it for a while, enjoying the strange mysterious feeling it gave him. Finally he sat up to push the shorts off his ankles, pulling his legs free one by one.
Leaving his pants at the bottom of the steps, Adam went over to stare at himself in the hallway mirror. From the opposite side of the glass his other self stared back - a blond boy wearing a loose fitting red and gold BMX shirt that came to mid thigh on his bare legs. Very slowly, using one hand, Adam lifted that shirt, uncovering tight briefs bulged out by his hard penis and then a lean smooth stomach. Stroking himself with his free hand he pushed beneath the elastic waist of the briefs and rubbed his boner, watching in the mirror as he did so to make it feel like he was doing it to his twin as well as himself. The movements of his hand worked the briefs down and he struck a pose, standing with hips cocked, a hand in his groin.
After studying his reflection, Adam pulled the loose shirt up further, tugging it over his head but keeping his arms in the short sleeves. Then he put his hands behind his head and posed again, gazing for a while at the smooth skin and graceful lines of his slender body. Finally he removed the shirt completely, dropping it on the floor. After that he slowly stripped off his underpants, pushing them down in back first and then turning to admire the smooth rounded curve of his butt in the mirror.
Most of the kids at school, like the ones he played soccer with, had flat skinny butts - butts you could barely see under their shorts. Adam knew his wasn't like that. His butt stuck out behind in a way that made his shorts fit tight. Pushing his briefs down the rest of the way, Adam stepped out of them and turned his back to the mirror, tightening his butt to make it stick out even more and then looked over his shoulder at his naked reflection. Brant had told him that having a good butt meant you were a good athlete and Adam was sure it was true because he could outrun and out-bike anyone. When Brant had patted him on the butt after a good play it had felt nice and Adam wished the counselor had done it more often.
Turning to face the mirror again, Adam posed with one hand behind his head and his bicep flexed, copying something he had seen in a weight lifting magazine. Light from the oval windows above the front door slanted across his body as he tightened the little swells of muscle in his chest staring at his mirror twin.
He wanted to be bigger. Stroking a palm down the glassy smoothness of his stomach all the way to his groin he took hold of his rigid penis and rubbed a fingertip back and forth over the tiny slit at its tip. Even though he had a good butt, Adam still thought his boner was too small. Lots of other kids in his class had bigger ones. But they had hair too and he didn't want that. Adam just wanted to be bigger without the hair, but maybe you had to have both. Brant's boner was really big and he didn't have hair because he kept it shaved off. Adam had liked that. He thrust his hips forward trying to make his boner jut out farther, rubbing while he studied himself in the mirror. He wished he stuck out more, like Brant did.
From the glass, Adam's other self gazed back at him slyly and then disappeared when Adam stepped away to the side. This was part of a plan because his imaginary twin had a role to play in the game and in his mind Adam sent him upstairs to wait while he went on into the living room.
Long before, when he had been small, Adam had discovered what he could do with the sofa in the living room, and even though it was awkward now because he was taller he still liked straddling one of the thick arm rests so he could slide back and forth on it naked. The sensation was more exciting than just stroking himself with his hand and when he climbed into place he felt a thrill of anticipation as the plush fabric touched his nut sack and inner thighs.
Leaning forward Adam slid his hips in a steady rhythm, letting his boner rub on the arm rest in a way he knew would bring aching pleasure into his groin. As sensation built within him he thrust faster and, steadying himself, he pumped his butt, trying to prolong the feeling because it was so good. But the awkward position tired him quickly and at last he collapsed, panting, and then slid off onto the sofa, sprawling with his arms over his head. After catching his breath he reached down to touch himself, brushing fingertips on the glassy smooth, stretched skin of his rigid shaft. The feathery light touch sent delicious shivers racing through his loins and he kept doing it until a final shudder made his hips jerk. Then he got up and crept back to the hallway.
Careful to avoid a reflection in the mirror, because his other self was supposed to be up hiding in the bedroom, Adam collected pants, shirt and briefs before pausing at the foot of the stairs. He waited for a moment listening to the silence in the house, hearing nothing while he held his breath. Then he padded up the stairs, noiseless on bare feet. At the entrance to his room he stoped again to crouch down and roll his clothing into a ball. Only when he was ready did he peek around the edge of the doorway.
Where was his twin? The room appeared empty but Adam knew his other self was there, hiding out of sight, waiting for him to enter.
What was that? Adam held his breath, but all he heard was the beat of his own heart. It was time to move. For a diversion he tossed his balled up clothing into the middle of the room and then leapt through the door pretending to be holding a drawn bow.
Movement! In the corner by the desk!
Adam turned, shooting his arrow, but even as it left the bow he knew he had missed and it was too late!
"Uhhhhhh..."
A thudding impact on his chest made him stagger and he dropped his bow clutching at the feathered shaft protruding from him. Another blow took his breath and when he looked down a second arrow was sticking out of his belly. Reeling, he fell back onto his bed jerking his legs and then writhing in a pretend death agony. The struggle left his naked body sprawled half off the mattress, arms and head thrown back with his legs parted.
Adam held his breath, staring with his eyes open so he would look dead, picturing himself with the arrows sticking out of his lifeless body and his twin standing over him. The image made him so hard he could feel his own heartbeats throbbing in his rigid boner. He reached down to touch himself, stroking with his fingers, imagining that it was his other self who was doing it, rubbing in slow circles on his thighs and belly and then closing a fist on his jutting little shaft and sliding it up and down. The feeling was so good Adam could not keep from moaning softly and he squirmed, tightening his butt to make himself even harder, wanting it to go on... But the shadowy boy leaning over him dissolved and he was left stroking himself which was good, but not as good, so after arching to squeeze his butt one more time he stopped and sat up.
Across the room the closet door was ajar. Adam got up and tiptoed over to it, holding an imaginary sword at the ready. But no one was there when he pulled the door open. His twin was gone, hiding downstairs now, waiting in the next part of the game. Adam crouched to pick up one of his sneakers and shook out the fake gold neck chain he kept hidden there. The chain was a secret possession, concealed from his mother because he had shoplifted it at the mall. Adam had never stolen anything before in his life, but the moment he had seen the chain he had known he had to have it...
Safety pins dangled from each end of the chain and Adam removed them for use in fashioning a simple costume. Striping the pillowcases from the two pillows on his bed he safety pinned them together and slipped them over his head so they hung from his shoulders, one in front and the other behind. It was an idea he had gotten from a movie and using the gold chain for a belt completed the costume, gathering the pillowcases at his narrow waist.
With the aid of the bathroom mirror he adjusted the crude garment so the smooth skin of his flanks and hips showed at the sides. Then he stood back to admire himself. The pillowcases were long enough to reach mid-thigh but the jut of his hard boner in front and the way his butt stuck out in back lifted them, revealing all of his bare legs. Adam half turned and then flexed, striking a pose like he had seen a boy do in a movie. It was a stance that tightened the rounded muscle of his butt and he stared at his half naked image feeling the strange excitement he always got when he did that.
In the medicine chest, on a shelf amid the jars of his mother's face cream, was a plastic bottle of hand lotion. Adam took it down and went to his room with it, placing it on the floor by the bed along with the rolled up leather belt. With that done he tiptoed back to the hallway and paused at the top of the stairs, listening.
Somewhere below his other self lurked, guarding the way that led to the weapons cache in the garage. Adam would have to fight him to reach it. With his imaginary sword held ready in front of him, Adam crept down the stairs, careful not to make a sound...
In the front hall he stopped to listen again. Still nothing but silence. After ducking down to make a check of the living room Adam turned cautiously into the passage that led toward the kitchen...
Suddenly his twin was there! Right in front of him! Dressed just as he was and holding a sword!
The first attack came so fast Adam barely parried it and the sting of a weapon tip burned in his left arm. Flinching, he watched for an opening and then ducked to make a sweeping cut with the edge of his blade, slashing his twin's thigh. The lightning quick counter thrust nearly got him, but he pulled back just in time to block the stroke. Warm blood dripped off his left elbow, but a flood of it was sheeting down his twin's leg from the deep slice across the thigh. Adam pressed in on attack and his other self desperately tried to keep a guard up for a few more seconds. Then he staggered and Adam drove a thrust under his weapon, stabbing into the boy's smooth stomach, pushing the blade all the way through his twin's body before jerking it back out.
Since he had to play both parts, Adam now opened his mouth in shock. Staring straight ahead he dropped his weapon and went to his knees clutching at his belly. Slowly he toppled over onto the floor and then lay writhing and jerking his legs, keeping his mouth open to pretend blood was pouring out of it while he died. At last, after a few final spasms he lay sprawled on his back, eyes staring, with one leg half pulled up. The twisting of his death agony had pulled his costume aside uncovering his rigid boner, which was now jutting up from his groin in such stiffness that the tip was quivering with his heartbeats.
Adam counted to sixty, holding his breath, imagining that he was bending over himself, checking to be sure his twin was dead. Then he got up to resume his own role. Adjusting his costume he went down the hallway to the kitchen and padded across the cool linoleum to the connecting door that led to the garage.
A familiar odor of damp mustiness filled Adam's nose as he descended the four steps to a rough concrete floor. In the dark corner next to the stairs, garden tools were propped against the wall and he reached behind them to retrieve a smooth wooden pole. Months ago Adam had fashioned the thing from a broom salvaged out of the trash. By breaking off the broom part he had given the pole one jagged end and left the other rounded and smooth. The length was just right for a pretend spear and after hefting it Adam mounted the steps back to the kitchen.
Closing the connecting door Adam paused again to listen. The electric clock on the wall by the stove gave off a soft humming sound and from somewhere in the house wood creaked on wood. Adam checked his weapons. Now that he was armed with both spear and sword he must fight his way to the Forbidden Temple past enemy guards lying in wait to stop him. Sometimes he resurrected his twin for the guard role but today the two of them had already killed each other once, so he would use different imaginary boys that he had invented for that purpose, costumed like the Dark Elf Warriors in his favorite videogame.
Silent on bare feet he crept through the kitchen, passing the opening to the hallway where his twin's dead body still lay in a pool of blood on the carpet. Beyond was the arch to the dining area by the living room and after peering cautiously around it he dashed through, heading for the cover of a chair.
Something flashed in the air. A short javelin! It's sharp point gashed his shoulder as he ran into the living room, sword in one hand and spear ready in the other. There! By the fireplace! A boy warrior younger than himself, who looked frightened, already had another javelin lifted. But Adam was too quick for him. Knocking the spear aside with his own he corkscrewed in and took the boy with a sword thrust in the chest, passing his blade straight through the other's slender little body. The youngster stared at him in horror, opening his mouth to scream but choking instead on a bubbling froth of pink foam that came pouring from his mouth. His knees buckled and when Adam pulled his sword free the boy crumpled to the floor, legs jerking.
Stepping clear of his dying enemy, Adam checked for others and then ran to the front hallway, heedless of the sticky warmth running off his left shoulder. His arm was covered with blood but he felt no pain and could still use his spear - and that was all that mattered! Move! He told himself. Stay on the attack!
Going up the stairs he dodged another javelin that stung his hip, but there was no time to stop. Two more warriors, boys his own age, came at him on the landing. Adam twisted inside the first one's guard to slash him across the belly. Then he speared the other in the throat. The first boy screamed, dropping to the floor, guts spilling over his clutching hands, while the second stood for a moment, eyes staring. Then he, too, went down, falling onto the other boy, his feet kicking as he choked on the blood pouring out of his mouth.
With the path clear, Adam took a step toward his room that had now become the Temple portal - and nearly went down himself as his left leg buckled. A quick glance showed him that it was covered in blood and he realized the wound in his hip was worse than he had thought. But it was too late to stop now! He was so close - the Temple crypt was just beyond! He only had to touch the altar and the evil power threatening the world would be broken! Gritting his teeth he limped through the doors and saw the great golden altar gleaming in the light from flaring torches on the walls.
But the alter was guarded! Two more warriors emerged from the shadows, boys older and bigger than he was! Adam's heart thudded in fear. Mustering all his courage he stood up straight and lifted his sword. He must not fail! Even though he was afraid, he must not fail! Not now!
The two guards were like the big kids Adam sometimes played against in soccer, opponents he could not equal in strength but must beat with speed. Ignoring the weakness in his leg he parried the first boy's sword thrust, feinted, and then made a thrust of his own catching his opponent just under the vee of his ribs. The taller boy's eyes widened as the sharp blade slid into his body and Adam felt the tip grind against bone. For a split second he held the sword in place then jerked it out as the dying boy fell toward him. Dodging out of the way Adam barely avoided a slicing stroke of the other guard's weapon, but loss of blood was weakening him and he came close to falling. Lifting his sword to block the next attack he saw too late that the second boy also held a long spear. The thrust came much too fast to knock aside. Before he could twist away the needle sharp tip had stabbed into his belly.
Adam felt the spear go completely through him and knew he was dead. Instinctively he dropped his own spear and grasped the wooden shaft of the weapon penetrating him, holding it like a bar of a cold fire in his gut while he fought to stay on his feet. In front of him the guard who had delivered the killing thrust was leaning forward, close enough for Adam to smell his breath. Using all the strength remaining to him, Adam stabbed upward, slashing the tip of his sword across the taller boy's ribs.
With a scream his enemy pulled back and the way to the altar was clear! Adam willed himself to take a step, then another. The altar was there, just a few feet away! All he had to do was reach it to destroy the deadly power forever! Vision blurring, Adam lurched forward, never feeling the final sword thrust the desperate guard made into his side.
With the first touch of Adam's hand on the altar's smooth golden surface the enemy warriors exploded into dust and Adam knew he had won. Tottering, he collapsed slowly onto the floor, his body half turned, arched on the impaling spear. As he pictured himself lying there with the spear through him, it's end sticking out his back, Adam felt his boner get so hard it ached when he writhed and squeezed his butt. It was the feeling the game's final excitement always gave him and he made it last for as long as he could, twisting in a pretend death agony before ending it with a few jerks of his legs.
He lay motionless, arms and head flung back, holding his breath and staring so he would appear to be dead, feeling the heart beats throbbing in his rigid penis. He was highly aroused now, so he did not play dead for too long but reached down and stroked himself, sliding his fingers on the slick stretched skin of his straining shaft, trying to harden it even more by squeezing his butt while he replayed the last part of the game in his mind; the thrust of his sword... the spear going through his body...
He stroked faster, pulling up one knee and then arching and squeezing...
There! It was happening! An aching like he had to pee and a throbbing at the base of his jutting boner... Adam rubbed harder, breath-holding until his vision blurred and he had to gasp for air, sprawled on the floor, his heart pounding...
It felt so good. Even better than doing the most chin ups at school, or scoring a goal in soccer. It was like when Brant had put an arm around him and touched him and...
Adam stripped off his costume and then reached for the belt lying nearby on the floor so he could lift it to his nose. Brant was so awesome! Just thinking about him gave Adam the good feeling and he reached down to stroke himself again. Brant was the coolest, the best, the most awesome person in the world and if Adam had been able to spend every single second of camp with him he would have. Brant was a better soccer player than anybody, plus he could swim, canoe, make campfires, cook, shoot... Adam was sure there was nothing Brant couldn't do, and when the older teen had promised to get him into his cabin for the next summer it had been the greatest thrill Adam could remember. He was sure nothing in the whole world could be better than staying with Brant for an entire summer. Vacation just had to come soon!
Adam took a pillow off his bed and then drew up his knees so he could move closer to the wall. Experience had taught him the right position and after a few adjustments he stretched back on the floor lifting his butt so he could slide the pillow beneath himself. With his hips elevated, Adam reached for the bottle of hand lotion and squirted a blob onto his palm. The creamy stuff felt cool and slippery on his rigid boner as he stroked up and down while holding the rolled up leather belt to his nose...
He was at camp playing soccer with his shirt off, racing downfield with the ball, feinting past defender after defender. He beat the last one and drove a powerful kick through the goalie's outstretched hands to score the winning point! Excited and happy, surrounded by celebrating teammates, he ran to the sideline where Brant was waiting. "Best play of the summer!" The counselor shouted, putting an arm around his shoulders...
Adam thought it would be worth dying to hear Brant say that just once and he closed his eyes wishing it could be now so he wouldn't have to wait. Almost he could feel the warmth of the older teen's body against his own and it made him so hard his boner ached as it strained up from his groin. Brant was so awesome. Adam breathed in the leathery smell of the belt feeling his counselor's arm around him, and the aching pleasure was there again in his groin, making him lift his hips, arching up, wanting more and more... As the throbbing came he jerked, his slender body twisting...
Adam squirmed, pulling his knees up further and spread his thighs apart as far as he could so he could reach down to push a finger into his butt hole. Experimentation had taught him how to open himself and his lotion-slicked finger sank in giving the sensation of fullness he had craved ever since discovering how good it felt while exploring his body one night in bed. Straining to get his finger up as far as he could he twisted it and pressed on the special place behind his boner. The ache of urgent pressure that resulted felt so incredibly good it made Adam catch his breath. He pulled his head back, mouth opening at the thrilling pleasure that surged through him. Then, slowly, he let his finger slide back out so he could pick up the broom handle.
Months ago Adam had made an exciting accidental discovery. In an attempt to make it appear as though a spear had gone through his body, he had inserted the end of the broom handle into his butt and it had felt so awesome he had been doing it ever since. At first he had held the stick in place with his hand, but it was not long before he found a better way.
Smearing the wooden handle's blunt tip with lotion Adam held it against his butt hole and then, as he had learned to do, opened himself by straining down like he was taking a dump. Using practiced movements he pushed the handle through his tight opening, moaning a little as it slid in because the sensation of fullness was so much more than what his finger gave him. When he felt it up inside his belly he braced the handle's broken end against the base of the wall and then took his hand away, squirming a little to make the blunt end move inside himself.
The aching pleasure that came was so intense Adam moaned again, wishing somehow he could make it go on and never stop. He began rubbing his rigid penis, holding the belt to his nose, breathing in the smell of leather, imagining that he was leaning against Brant's warm hard body while the older boy hugged him around the shoulders. It felt so awesome... This time they were alone where no one could see, so when Brant touched him he could hug back and they wouldn't have to stop like they had before... and his boner was so hard with Brant's fingers sliding on it... and Adam could touch Brandt's hardness and then that hardness could be inside him like the spear... and it would feel so good... so good...
Adam squirmed, twisting on the impaling wooden shaft, his smooth slender body writhing as throbs pulsed in his rigid shaft. It was happening! He rubbed faster, fingers darting over the head of his stiff penis and across its tiny slit. There was more throbbing and Adam moaned, then his feet were kicking and he was straining to open himself, letting the stick slide in his hole.
"Uhhhhh... Uhhhhhhhhhhh..."
Twisting in ecstasy the boy willed it to go on and on and on and never stop, and he knew if he kept rubbing himself and breathing the leather smell he could make it happen again and again, his slender naked body twisting, fist pumping up and down...
Head pulled back, arching because it felt so good with the spear up in him, Adam squirmed, driving the wooden handle in deeper until there was a bulge in his lean stomach and the aching fullness was a dull pain. Sliding his fist on himself he strained to pull his knees apart while inhaling the belt's leathery scent and he pictured Brant running on the soccer field, or standing on the dock at the Lake, his strong tanned body glistening in the sun. More throbbing pulsed inside him and Adam groaned, kicking his feet. A series of hard contractions made his slim body jerk. Squirming and twisting on the spear, Adam thought of how it would be when he could tell Brant how much he liked him and the older boy could hold him close, stroking and rubbing while their bodies touched...
"Uhhhhhhhhh..."
Another spasm throbbed around the fullness in his rectum. Adam's lean little body heaved up as contraction after contraction pulsed in his jutting penis. Warm slippery drops rolled off the tip lubricating his pumping fist and he stroked faster, writhing with pleasure. It was happening! The thing that felt so awesomely good... The thing he could only do with the spear in him and thinking of Brant touching him... And it was so good. And all Adam wanted was for Brant to do it more and more and more...
Twisting, moving the wooden shaft in himself, every muscle in his smooth young body visible, Adam gave himself to the wave of pleasure breaking over him. The jerking contractions in his rigid boner were making him shudder. Slippery warmth kept dribbling over his fist and he pumped desperately, trying to make it go on and on and on...
When it stopped at last, Adam sprawled back on the rug, his arm falling limply to the side. But he kept the belt close to his nose, inhaling the leather smell, imagining that Brant was still holding him... whispering... stroking...
For a while longer he kept his knees pulled up, writhing slowly to keep the end of the broom handle moving inside him. Then very carefully he rolled off the pillow onto his side, pretending to be dying from the spear thrust. Sometimes the wooden handle in his butt slid out when he did this, but other times the jagged end caught on the rug so it stayed in. It stayed up in him this time letting him play at dying longer. After squirming for a time clutching his stomach to feel the hard lump of the blunt end up inside himself Adam finally kicked his feet and then lay still, staring straight ahead, not breathing, pretending to be dead. Only when he could hold his breath no longer did he reach around behind and unsnag the handle's jagged end from the rug. Bit by bit it slid out of him taking with it that sense of fullness he craved so much after it was gone.
For a while he lay still, stroking his rigid boner, thinking about Brant. Then at last he rolled over and got up. It was time to put everything away and do his chores before his mother got home. When he put his underwear back on he felt the butt soreness that was always there after the game, but he was used to that. Padding in bare feet over to his desk he checked off another day on his calendar. In less than a month soccer camp would start and this time he would be in Brant's cabin. Brant had promised... He closed his eyes picturing how it would be when he got off the bus and saw Brant waiting for him...
Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment, my e-mail address is:
hunterjoe45@yahoo.com
I will try to answer all serious mailings. Rants and ravings will not get consideration.
To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with contributions and keep the Archive online. Check the Nifty home page for ways to make contributions. Without this Archive those of us who write for you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.
You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name in the prolific authors list. I hope you will read and enjoy!
All the Best. Joe