This story has been a long time in the making. Part1 consists of 19 chapters, not all of which contain any sexual material. It's main characters are teenage boys. The author has not been a teenage boy for a long time and apologises if the dialogue is not always convincing.
All the characters and events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com
D'n'M Part1
Chapter 1.
Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, bee...
A reluctant hand groped out from the tangled bedcovers, abruptly silencing the unwelcome alarm. The hand returned and rubbed, first one, then the other, sleepy eye, allowing in the muted early morning sunlight. Then, with greater consciousness and enthusiasm, the same hand continued its habitual journey, down from the smooth and unblemished teenage face, across the hairless chest and developing abdominal 4-pack, under the elastic waistband of the loose cotton boxers, through the tight tangle of curly, mid blonde pubic hair, finally arriving, as it did every morning, at the root of a still sleepy adolescent dick.
Having reached its familiar destination, the hand began gently massaging the limp four inches which lay expectantly across its owner's lower tummy. Along the underside and up to the dark pink helmet, then slowly back again to the root, the hand followed its accustomed route for five or six rotations until the limp four inches began to swell and stiffen, hardening towards the six and a half inches it would eventually achieve. As usual by the end of the sixth rotation, things had definitely progressed. Firstly, a second hand had appeared to join in the action, travelling slightly further south than its twin and cupping the smooth ball sack, gently manipulating the delicate contents. Secondly, a small pearl of translucent liquid had emerged at the tip of the dick, soon to be discovered by the first hand and expertly distributed over the top two or three inches of the now throbbing and excited fifteen-year old boyhood. Gradually the pace of the massage increased until .....
Wait just a minute. Fifteen? What? No! Suddenly, and with absolutely no warning, all jerk-off action came to a completely unexpected and frozen halt as the teenaged brain directing these daily ministrations went from blissful semi-alertness to sharp and total consciousness in less time than it takes to blink. This wasn't any ordinary `wake up, jerk-off, get up' morning, this was Dan's sixteenth birthday morning. And that meant it was a very special morning indeed.
With all thoughts of a leisurely teen-boy splooge-unloading session forgotten, Dan threw off the bedcovers, grabbed yesterday's crumpled T-shirt from the floor and headed for his bedroom door and the stairs down to the Reed family kitchen, without even bothering to check his phone for overnight messages and updates.
"Well, good morning number two son. I wasn't expecting to see you this early, and certainly not until you'd finished taking care of boy business."
Following his father's gaze, Dan glanced down at his still slightly-tented boxers and grinned. "Well dad, at least you can see that one of the men in this family is still able to be `up, aimed and ready to fire' before breakfast."
Before Dan knew what was happening, Roger Reed had him in the all-too-familiar and unbreakable paternal headlock, enthusiastically grinding his knuckles into his son's skull.
"Ok dad," Dan spluttered. "Maybe you're not too old to do the dirty deed. Now let me go -- pleeease!"
From the tone and content of this exchange with his father, Dan knew his mother, Helen Reed, was safely out of earshot, probably on her regular early-morning run. Dan never doubted for one instant that his mother loved him unconditionally, but he was also very well aware of her disapproval of the `boy-talk' that regularly went on between her husband and two sons.
With a final drumming of knuckles on skull, Dan was released from the headlock and immediately wrapped in a warm and affectionate whole-body hug.
"Happy birthday, son. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed!" joked Roger Reed.
"Ha! That's all you know dad. You didn't see me and a certain young lady at the skate park last weekend."
Dan's youthful bravado was convincing. So much so that even his dad, who believed he knew just about everything there was to know about his younger son, started to think that maybe he was beginning to have some success on the dating front. Roger Reed couldn't help but feel the stirrings of paternal pride. However, the reality was that Dan's dating experience was very similar to that of most of his schoolboy friends and acquaintances -- somewhere between little and none. Not that he wasn't keen to have his first proper girlfriend, it was just that he hadn't quite managed to find the right words with which to impress the right girl at the right time. True, he'd got close on a couple of occasions but both times he had backed out at the last minute. Basically it was a confidence thing with Dan, he just couldn't believe that any of the attractive, funny, interesting girls he saw on a daily basis at school and at the park would be interested in someone as unremarkable and ordinary as him.
Of course, he never shared these uncertainties with his dad, close as they were. In fact, the only person who knew anything about Dan's puzzling lack of self-belief was Milo, his oldest and very best friend. And it truly was puzzling. When Milo looked at Dan he saw a tall (5ft 10in), slim (135 lbs), well-built boy with blue eyes and pale blonde hair. He saw a boy who was bright and fair-minded and funny; a boy who could hold his own on the soccer field and in the pool; a boy who was considerate and non-judgemental. In short he saw a boy who he, Milo, could easily fall in love with were he not already the best friend he had ever had or was ever likely to have, and therefore very definitely off-limits.