## My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by Jason Toddman » Thu Jun 26, 2014 3:33 pm

Warning: This story contains graphic descriptions of a sexual relationship between teenagers four years apart in age, and includes a drawing depicting genitalia (in a drawing in the drawing) and oral sex (though tastefully concealed by an intervening object). if you are offended by such details, then just go away please go no further.
This is a continuation of my semi-autobiographical Tugs stories and immediately follows the last chapter to be found here.
viewtopic.php?f=48&t=10119&hilit=captive+of+my+teenaged+cousins
As I am tired of defending how much of my Tugs stories with my cousins and friends are true and how much are fictionalized, i have simply placed this story (as well as those that preceded it) in the fictional section.
You don't need to believe this story is true; I just hope you enjoy reading it.
STEVIE WONDER-FUL
After my older (and only) brother died just as the 1973 school summer vacation was about to start, one would have thought that I would be rather reclusive and engaged in a prolonged period of mourning. But my brother and I had not been close (nor had even lived in the same house together) for years by that time, and after a few days of stunned disbelief (I was virtually a zombie at his funeral), I recovered rather quickly. This wasn’t because I cared, but because one of my friends suddenly re-entered my life in a major and attention-grabbing way.
Stevie had always been very friendly to me despite the four year gap in our ages; a gap pretty similar to the one that had existed between me and my brother but in the opposite direction. In some ways he understood me better than most of my friends did; and definitely more so than my own brother had. In fact, in some ways we were much alike. Especially with his glasses on, he even resembled me slightly except that he had a much thinner build than I’d ever had. We had many interests in common (besides Tugs of course), and he liked to spend time with me as well. I think this was in part because I treated him like I would anyone my own age, whereas anyone else my age barely paid any attention to him (he was just a little – make that young - kid after all). Moreover, most kids his own age were intimidated by his size (well, his height anyway; his build was, as I said, very skinny). Also, since both his intelligence and social maturity were years ahead of his physical age and development, he preferred the company of other boys he could literally (as well as figuratively) see eye to eye with.
Another reason was, of course, because I would let him tie me up whenever he wanted to with no fears I would demand a turn tying him up in exchange. Stevie loved to tie people up; being tied up however was another matter. He’d do it when the situation demanded it (such as when he applied to join our Tugs Club before its utter collapse some time afterward), but otherwise much preferred to be the one doing all the tying. Since I much preferred being tied, he naturally gravitated toward me as someone he wanted to spend more time with.
As time went on, it became evident that he thought of me as more than just another friend. One time in early spring of 1971 I spent the night at his house - as a babysitter rather than merely as an older friend. At one point he’d briefly flashed me – twice – while I was tied up and he was straddling my chest. At the time he was still prepubescent (he wasn’t quite 11 at the time) and his size down there hadn’t caught up with the rest of him. I wasn’t sure at the time why he did it but, as nothing further of interest developed at the time, figured he was just trying to gauge my reaction or shock me with something outrageous but harmless.
The following winter, I again spent some time with him at his house after he (as seemed to be common practice among my friends at the time) has used me as padding on his toboggan a few times while Matt was tied to a tree and watched us. Inside the house, as his mother was away (leaving me as an unofficial – and unpaid – babysitter once again) Matt was tied to a chair and left to watch TV downstairs while Stevie tied me to the guest bed upstairs and then straddled me; wearing his pants and socks and shirtless and shoeless.
I’ve mentioned this visit before but one thing I didn’t mention was that Stevie (now just a few months shy of 12 but already six feet tall; though weighing only 125 to 130 pounds) said he wanted to show me something he said he hadn’t shown off to anyone else before; not even his best friend/eager slave, Matt.
He sounded eager about it, so I said go ahead and show me.
Grinning from ear to ear, he lifted his skinny butt off of me for a moment but kept his knees to either side of me as he reached for his pants snaps, unlatched it, unzipped his fly, pulled his pants and underwear down below his knees, and straddled me again with his now naked crotch practically in my nose!! He grinned down at me to gauge my reaction.
Well, I was surprised of course. Not because this had never happened to me before, but because this had never happened to me with Stevie before. Nor, for that matter, with anyone who hadn’t been at least 13 – and definitely past puberty – at the time. And Stevie was even 12 yet. And, despite being only two inches shorter than me, Stevie was still undeveloped and not terribly impressive in that area as yet.
I looked up at him in puzzlement; not daring to ask what he had in mind for fear of sounding either lecherous for a kid so much younger (if not that much smaller overall) than me or at the same time sounding dismissive or unappreciative. But he just straddled me and looked down at me in evident expectation, and I realized that some kind of response was called for.
“Uhhh… well… hmmm…” I hemmed and hawed. “You’ve never done *this* to me before.”
“Yeah, well this is a special occasion!” he told me cheerfully.
“Uhh… it is?” I asked; sounding and no doubt looking even dumber than I usually did.
His face suddenly clouded with annoyance. “Don’t you see them?” he asked me with some mingled disappointment and a tone that clearly asked ‘how-stupid-ARE-you?’ Then, somewhat to my amazement, he grabbed the back of my head and lifted up to literally shove my face right into his pubic area. “Take a closer look!”
I looked more closely; not easy when you wear glasses and what you’re supposed to be seeing is at such point-blank range that your own head (plus Stevie’s own body) is cutting off much of your light. But then I saw it… just barely visible even from only a couple of inches away.
“Ooohhh! A pubic hair!” I exclaimed in my best (such as it was) Curly Howard (of the three stooges) impression. I even added, “Nyuck! Nyuck! Nyuck!”
Stevie wasn’t satisfied. “Look closer!” he demanded semi-sternly as he shoved my face even harder until my nose was literally pressed into his crotch - and the tip of his still relatively small dick pressed right up against my mouth! “There are three of them down there!”
“Oh yeah! So there are!” I answered while trying to avoid letting his prick actually enter my mouth as I talked; I wasn’t sure he was even remotely wanting *that*! “One… two... three. Yep, they’re all there! Oh wait; I can see two more below the others! Wow! You’ll be all hairy down there in no time!”
“Yeah! Isn’t it great?!” he crowed happily as he released my head and let it flop back down onto the pillow underneath it. “I’ll be a man in no time now!”
But if he wanted to prove he was a man in any other way, he didn’t show any signs of it with me just then, because he promptly pulled his underwear and pants back up and that was the last I saw of his pubes or developing equipment for over a year. He just continued to straddle my chest and talk with me. Stevie wasn’t into torture particularly, so I am sure he had no idea (at least at the time) how unintentionally cruel he’d been to me just then. He just wanted to show off something he was really proud of that he couldn’t show off to anyone else he knew. Why he had considered me the exception I didn’t understand… at least not then… and it bemused and puzzled me for quite a while until I finally put it out of my mind.
Another school year came and went. Stevie and I saw little of each other during much of this time, as we were so far apart in ages (plus a geographical separation of just over two miles) that social contacts were kind of awkward (at least, for me – even though I always enjoyed his company). Also, we attended different schools, and though on the same bus route we didn’t ride to school at the same time (grade school began and ended an hour later than grade school; probably to reduce the number of buses required). So for much of my junior year in high school we interacted socially only seldom and Tugs-wise not at all.
I had missed him somewhat during this time but not enough to do anything about it. But, flatteringly to say the least, he missed me considerably more and, true to his own take-charge personality, definitely decided to do something about it. And so, somewhere in mid-week on the first full week of summer vacation, he rode into the driveway (loudly announced by my alert and noisy Labrador retriever) on a brand-new ten-speed bike that he had gotten for his birthday a few weeks before. Unusually for Stevie, he was alone; his usual faithful shadow, Matt, was nowhere to be seen.
Stevie had just turned 13 around this time but still had the face of a ten-year-old. His body however was another matter. He was now 6’ 5” and therefore three inches taller than I was! He still had some filling out to do though; he almost made even my former close friend Rusty seem like Hercules in comparison, as even yet he scarcely weighed over 140 pounds. All this I could see plainly as he wore a brief set of cut-off shorts, ankle socks, a worn pair of sneakers, his glasses… and nothing else. And yet his lean (and sweaty) body looked fit and athletic rather than gaunt or ill-fed. I found myself staring at his slender legs rather than his chest, and my thoughts wavered between feeling like a squat toad in comparison to him and hungering to have that body sit on *my* body and those wiry thighs squeezing my face between them!
As I had not seen him in several months, seeing him now was something of a shock – in more ways than one. I was in the middle of mowing the lawn and my own shirtless (but far less lean or athletic) body was gleaming with sweat as well. Even had it not been a hot, humid day I likely would have broken into a sweat upon seeing this attenuated, under-aged Adonis approaching me.
“Hi Jason,” Stevie said to me with his usual carefree grin as he braked to a stop just a few feet away from me. “Got time for a visit?” he asked in such a hopeful tone that I’d have jolly well have made time for a visit from him no matter what I was doing. As it was, all I had to do all day was to finish mowing the lawn any time before my mother came home around five, and as that was only an hour’s job left (with an hour already done) and it was only ten in the morning. I immediately decided it was getting too hot and humid to mow, and that the rest of it could wait until later in the afternoon when the lawn would be better shaded and the air hopefully cooler. I had immediately thumbed off the power motor when I’d sighted Stevie (who, thanks to the noise and the fact that I was looking in the wrong direction when he arrived, was already only thirty feet away from me when Blackie alerted me to his presence). Now I idly shoved the mower away from me to clearly indicate I had all the time in the world for Stevie!
“Nice to see you again!” I told him… quite sincerely and quite literally as I concentrated (with difficulty) on looking him in the eyes rather than all over him. “How’ve you been?”
“Great!” he said with a smile as he got off his bike, nudged the kickstand with his foot to make the bike stand erect, and stepped away from it. Then, less than a second later, before I knew what he had in mind, he gave a high-pitched (and probably what was meant to be a blood-curdling) war-cry, charged straight at me, and tackled me!
I was three inches shorter but outweighed him by a good 40 or 45 pounds, and had I been set (and had really wanted to resist) it’s unlikely he could have budged me at all. But I was caught as flat-footed as when Carlos had decked me the previous summer and, once I was aware of what he was planning to do, not even remotely in the mood to put up any kind of fight. And so he collided into me and literally bowled me over; sending me sprawling on my back. While I was still falling backward he stepped over me, folded his legs beneath him, and bully-pinned me in a moment. His boney knees pinned my shoulders and his hands – backed up by his sinewy arms and shoulders and upper body as he leaned forward – held my wrists down like a pair of vises.
I could probably have thrown this lightweight off with sufficient effort, but my surprise was rapidly replaced by an almost hypnotized stare as I beheld this half-naked, beautiful young ectomorph's body so close to mine. I was in no mood to change the situation at all.
Blackie was evidently startled for a moment and started barking frantically as he circled around us both; perhaps thinking I was being attacked and wondering if he should help me. But then I managed to fight off my trance just enough to call out a quick, slightly annoyed “Hush up, Blackie!” to him. Evidently then realizing that we were just playing, Blackie hushed up but then charged forward and tried to lick Stevie in the face. Stevie released his grip on me just long enough to ward my dog off, give him a quick pet, shove him gently but firmly away, and resume pinning me down. My dog finally took the hint that his attention was not wanted at this time and he wandered off to find a bone to chew. Well, I’d make it up to him later; I thought to myself briefly before I forgot all about Blackie and turned my full attention back to Stevie.
“I heard about your brother,” Stevie said to me consolingly (if somewhat incongruously) as he kept me pinned down. “I thought I’d come by and see if I could you feel better.”
“Well, you’re off to a good start,” I told him with a grin; having by then gotten over the initial shock I’d felt at my brother’s death. It might seem a bit cold to some people, but as I said my brother had seen little of each other in recent years anyway and hadn’t been too friendly with each other either during much of what time we were together except for that last Christmas visit. I was, in fact, again grieving more over my recently ruptured relationship with my cousins Walter and Randy than I was the death of a brother who’d often acted like I didn’t even exist… or at least acted as if he wished I didn’t.
“So how come you never come by anymore?” Stevie asked me as he released his hold on my wrists in favor of gently slapping my face instead while his lean, fit, achingly beautiful body continued to straddle my chest. I even remember wondering at about this point if his boyhood had caught up with the rest of his body yet, but didn’t have the guts (or lack of sense) to inquire.
“Uhhh… well…” I hemmed and hawed again as for the life of me I didn’t know myself why I hadn’t. “I dunno. There just never seemed to be a good time to drop by. And, well, it’s kind of awkward when someone my age expresses an interest in visiting someone your age and… well…”
“Tom never seems to have that problem with Freddy,” Stevie patiently pointed out as he switched from playfully slapping my face to flicking my nose and ears with the forefingers of both hands alternately. “And they’re even further apart in age than *we* are.”
“Yeah, but they live next door to each other and their parents know each other, and… well…” I sputtered to a stop as I realized how lame my excuses sounded – especially in light of the fact that my enjoyment of being with Stevie equaled or even exceeded his enjoyment of being with me. “You have Matt, and all your other friends… and I didn’t want to be in the way.”
“You’d never be in the way,” Stevie assured me as he quit playfully torturing my face and simply placed the palms of his hands on his knees; still straddling me. “And some of the others have missed you and asked about you too. Gordon, Josh, Craig, Kevin, Corey… even Matt!”
“Where *is* Matt, by the way?” I asked him; more to change the subject than because I really cared at the time. “He’s usually with you.”
“Oh, Josh and Craig are visiting him while I visit you,” Stevie replied as he casually grasped my cheeks and began to stretch and pull on them like he thought they were made of rubber. “They’ve been close friends for friends, even before I met any of them. It’s gotten so they spend a lot of time tying him up now too... and they like to play torture him a lot too. They even sit on him quite a bit. I guess you and your cousins started a trend.”
I just grinned and shrugged my shoulders as best as I could while Stevie’s bony knees pinned them to the ground. For such a lightweight, his knees were really starting to grind into me, even though he was still placing most of his body weight (such as it was!) through his behind and onto my chest.
“I was never into torture much, myself,” Stevie added as he suddenly grabbed by nose and acted like he was trying to twist it off.
“Really?” I asked somewhat facetiously. This actually used to be quite true, but Stevie was either totally oblivious to what he was doing to me or subtly telling me that the operative word in his statement was ‘was’.
“At least, not with Matt,” Stevie added. “Matt likes having me tell him what to do and he loves being tied up, but he’s not into pain. Humiliation, yeah… but not pain. But I like giving a little pain now and then. Just a bit, but more than Matt wants to receive. And besides I’m too much bigger than Matt now. It feels wrong to hurt him… not only because he’s so much smaller but because he doesn’t like it, and because he feels dependent on me. He’d take it if I insisted, but he wouldn’t like it… not like *you* do!” he added meaningfully as he suddenly shifted his body forward and put more of his weight on his knees – and on my shoulders and upper arms.
I winced from the surprise and the sudden (but still modest) pain, but I merely smiled and made no protest at all. After all, Stevie was absolutely correct. I was having the most fun I’d had in all too God-damned many months! And I wasn’t even tied up! Yet!
“But I’m not bigger than *you*!” Stevie continued, as if that fact weren’t already quite obvious. “I don’t really have to hold back when I’m with you… do I?”
“Nuh uh!” I answered quietly as I was once again at least halfway in into a trance and not quite daring to hope that I knew where all this was going. Once again I began to wish he’d squeeze my face between those wiry legs of his.
And then, as if he’d read my mind, he shifted his body a few inches forward so that his knees were off my shoulders and past my head; his ankles held my upper arms in place (more comfortably but still reasonably securely) instead; and the front of his shorts (where a distinct bulge was now clearly visible to my eyes) was practically brushing the base of my chin. And then his thighs clamped together onto my face and he squeezed; not just a little bit but as hard as I think he possibly could! He even flexed his arms like a boxer as if this gave him more leverage.
“Michael once told me you liked it when his brothers did this,” Stevie told me cheerfully.
“Yeah, the little blabbermouth was right!” I replied quietly as if I was falling asleep; as I was all but drowning in a sea of pure bliss.
“I’ll bet he was right about some of the other things you did with his brothers then, too!” Stevie continued cheerfully.
My eyes flew open as I momentarily surfaced from the sea of bliss with a squawk of outraged sensibilities. “What else did that little ratfink tell you?!” I demanded to know.
“Enough!” Stevie replied simply as he casually just happened to rub himself just above that bulge I had been noticing. “Say, do you remember counting my pubic hairs?”
“Yeah?” I asked, somewhat (and perhaps needlessly) warily.
“Wanna do a recount?” he asked with the widest grin I’d seen on his face yet. It was obvious he was making a genuine offer rather than mock me or insult me in any way.
“Uhhhh…” I was unusually hesitant to commit myself to an answer. Not because I wasn’t strongly tempted but because I suddenly remembered that despite his height he was almost four years younger than I was. That age difference had never seemed important before. Now I began to understand my older friends’ increasing reluctance (especially Walter and Randy) to play tie-up games with my younger friends; they were afraid they might inadvertently stray into the kind of territory Stevie was now boldly (if subtly) trying to urge me to explore with him.
“Got any rope?” Stevie asked me while I was still deliberating.
“Uh, of course!” I answered at once as he successfully side-tracked me. Had we lived in more recent times, I likely would’ve have added a sarcastic “Du-uhh!”
“Great!” Stevie said as he suddenly stood up, stepped away from me, and offered me a hand up. “You show me the ropes, and I’ll show you more than a few things.”
It became increasingly hard to believe that I was talking with a mere thirteen-year-old. He not only was as tall as someone my age but often talked like someone my age too. And at that instant I decided to hell with the age gap. If Stevie wanted to show me what he had, who the hell was I to say no? Especially when most of me was saying, “Hell yes!” Especially the part of me that was doing my thinking for me as my brain quietly called it a day and took a nap. The part of me that was not straining for its freedom inside my own shorts while the rest of me began to ache for the reverse condition of freedom!
Stevie led the way to my own house as if he were the one who lived here. I meekly followed like I had seen Matt do so many times. I began to understand why matt was so passive when he was around Stevie. There was just something about Stevie that had nothing to do with his now-imposing height (especially as it was not even remotely matched by an imposing build) and everything to do with his pleasant manner, intelligence, cuteness, and a frank but somehow selfless and un-self-conscious ability to manipulate people into doing whatever he asked.
He certainly had *me* wrapped around his little finger at that moment! I followed him as tamely as if I were a dog. My own real dog, however, simply ignored us and continued to chew on his bone in the shade of some lilac trees as Stevie and I entered the house.
My room was on the second floor and, at this time of day, the roof overhead fully exposed to the light of the sun. My room had a single window fan for cooling and little else but natural ventilation between my window and the window at the opposite end of the house (In my brother’s little used room). Stevie and I got some cold liquid refreshment in the kitchen to fortify us against the heat and humidity I warned him we’d endure up there; drinking some of it downstairs and bringing the rest upstairs with us.
Without further preliminary I brought out the various ropes I’d placed in various hiding places to keep them – along with the comic books I drew – completely hidden from my mother (who had an occasional but to-me annoying habit of prying into my room). However, Stevie observed something I hadn’t meant for him to see as I dug into my stash of the best ropes I had at the time; my stash of self-drawn and explicitly (if not yet particularly expertly) drawn comic books. Despite wearing glasses as I did, Stevie apparently had the eyes of a hawk that day and asked about them.
“Oh, nothing!” I replied casually and dismissively. “Just some stuff I drew.”
Can I see?” he asked as sweetly as one could imagine. “I hear you like to draw comic books,” Stevie continued. Before I could inquire if it was Michael or some other blabbermouth who’d told him about those, he asked again, “Can I see some of them?”
I knew Stevie enjoyed comic books and also liked to draw, but I was unsure I was ready to show off the kind of stuff that I was drawing at the time. But the way he asked, combined with a secret desire to let him see what kind of kink I liked (and hoped he’d be inspired rather than put off by it) overcame my reluctant resistance and I pulled the comic books out for him to see. There were about a dozen of the things; each about 40 to 60 pages long (including a front and back cover) and held together with a loose, removable plastic binder and some semi-transparent plastic covers of varying colors. The front cover scenes invariably portrayed some teenaged boy who was tied down lying face up (usually looking distressed out sometimes smiling) with from one to six other boys (either naked or lightly dressed) sitting on top of him with happy grins on their faces. There would also be some lurid story title on the top part of the page, such as “Naked Boys in the Woods”, “The Helpless Captive”, “The Boy Who Loved to be Tied Up and Sat On”, “Prisoner of the Elf Boys,” “Slave of the Boys from Rigel-Four”, and other such inane titles that only an adolescent boy with more imagination than actual talent could dream up.
Stevie was as entranced with my comic books as I was at looking at his body. In fact, I swear all that happened the next moments was that he stared at them while I stared at him, with as happy and dopey a smile on his face as I am sure was plastered across mine. I think we both forgot for a moment what we had originally set out to do when we came up to my room. I must have removed my shoes and socks somewhere during this point however, as I was barefoot and wearing only my own shorts once this quiet pause ended. Otherwise, we both seemed to be in a trance.
But then he brought himself out of his (rousing me out of mine in so doing), put the comic books down on my desk, grabbed some rope and looked at me with a grin. “Can I take some of these comics home so I can read them later?” he asked me eagerly as he backed me up against my own bed and gently pushed me backward so that I sat down heavily on the edge of it.
Normally, with almost anyone else, I would have said “Are you crazy?! What if your mom or someone else sees those?” But this was Stevie, he was half-naked, he was about to tie me up and do all-new things with me, my brain was out to lunch, my groin was over-stimulated and hungry, and my common sense flew out the window screaming. So instead I numbly went, “Sure, take all you want,” even as he was climbing over me, pushing me further into a lying-down position, and beginning to tie one of my wrists to a bedpost with the rope in his hands.
Then I just lay there like a log while I watched him as he slowly and methodically tied me up. Well, I didn’t really watch him tie me. I simply watched the play of his lean, well-defined muscles as he moved. He’d straddle my chest as he tied down one wrist, crouch down beside the bed (which was narrow enough to enable me to see him fully if I craned my neck a little) as he tied the foot on the same side, straddle my lower leg as he tied the other, get down on one knee as he tied my remaining wrist, and then walk all around me and my bed as he inspected his own handiwork – tightening knots or adding more rope if he wasn’t satisfied.
He then sat on the edge of my bed to pull off his socks and sneakers and, still wearing his shorts, swung his long, lean legs around and straddled my lower belly. He bounced softly on my gut and proceeded to beat on my chest with the palms of his hands like I was a drum. He made no immediate moves to get to the business at hand but instead was a great believer in foreplay. Under the circumstances I wasn’t in a big hurry myself and let him proceed at his own pace.
Stevie was in no hurry. He simply continued to sit on me and bounce on me, slap me on my chest or face (but not enough to hurt), twist my nipples, tickle my underarms, and – every so often – shift his slender body forward an inch or two.
It must have taken him close to an hour before he reached my upper chest and was positioned on top of me the same way he had been when we were out on the lawn. Even then, he moved languidly as he first unbuttoned his snap, unzipped his fly about an inch a few minutes later, unzipped another inch or two a few minutes after that, and so on. The suspense was maddening in one sense, but intensely pleasurable in others. I did or said nothing to urge him to hurry it up. I even remember a stupid jingle for a TV commercial that was current at the time. It showed this bottle of ketchup where the ketchup was taking its sweet time coming out of the bottle, and someone was singing, “An-tis-si-pay-shun. Ann-tis-di-pay-hay-shun! It’s keeping me way-hey-hey-hey-away-tan!”
But I was hoping eventually to be served a different condiment than mere ketchup!
And then, dramatically, as if he himself were suddenly impatient to get on with the show, Stevie pulled down his shorts and undershorts down below his knees, down to his feet, pulled them out, and flung them dismissively aside and moved forward until once again his pubes were literally brushing against my chin.
I could see right away that he had way many more pubic hairs than before. I might have pretended to count them anyway just to be funny, but my attention was completely diverted by what the hairs were growing around.
Well… Stevie’s boyhood had definitely caught up to the rest of him. Almost quite literally. It was very long indeed, and also quite slender. I’d estimate it was half again as long as mine (eliciting an intense but short-lived surge of jealousy; short-lived because I realized it was about to do me more where it was than if it’d been on me!) but only about three-quarters to four-fifths as thick. Like its owner, a virtual beanpole!
And below this, now resting quote literally on my chin, hung two well-formed nuts.
Stevie reached out one hand and made to pry my mouth open while with the other hand he guided his boyhood in my watering and eager receptacle. “Okay, start counting my hairs,” Stevie told me with a smile. “I’ll keep busy in the meantime.”
And with that he pulled on the back of my head just like before (only he removed my lasses first this time) and shoved my nose right into his nest of pubic hairs.
Inanely, I think I even silently began counting individual hairs; but gave up after 200 or so. I estimated that such a task would literally take all the rest of the day, and I had more fun things to concentrate on doing at the moment!
Because of his height and height, it was almost like doing it with Rusty again; only this time my partner was four years younger than me rather than three years older. But age no longer seemed to matter at all; he was definitely ready, willing, and able now… and so was I.
I had no idea where he’d gotten the idea to do this at his age… or even whether this was really his very first time (as always afterward claimed it was, and I’ve never caught him knowingly lying to me). At the time, I can’t say I gave a sweet damn either. I just went with the flow…
And the flow of semen went right onto me.
After he cleaned us both off, Stevie kept me tied up and continued to sit on me naked as he began to read some of my comic books. He genuinely seemed to enjoy them. He even hinted he was getting a few fun ideas from them. And when was the next time he could visit? And he would have the entire house to himself all day Sunday; could I come visit?
I came at the very thought of it; although Stevie lent me a helping hand at the time.
Despite the rotten spring I’d had, it looked like this was going to be one beautiful summer!
And indeed, it was the start of a whole new relationship for me; one that in some ways was the most thrilling one of all up to then.

Attachments

Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by tony2 » Wed Jul 30, 2014 4:09 pm

Thanks for sharing the remembrances. sure sounds true to me....
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by Jason Toddman » Wed Jul 30, 2014 5:00 pm

Some od my earlier tales had some exaggerations to them (mainly in the seeming lack of consensuality in places and just how intimate some relationships got), but this one is pretty much how it was.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by HumHumming » Thu Jul 31, 2014 11:25 pm

A very exciting and hot story. I'm glad you decided to share this with us:)

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by Jason Toddman » Fri Aug 01, 2014 8:35 am

> HumHumming wrote:A very exciting and hot story. I'm glad you decided to share this with us:)

Thank you. Glad someone cared.This was sitting around over a month before you and Tony2 gave me any feedback, and it was making me figure writing more of these here would be a waste of time. Maybe I'll continue after all, now. Thanks.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by tony2 » Fri Aug 01, 2014 2:21 pm

Please keep enjoying yourself and writing. I don't know where this was hiding or I would have read it sooner. Probably distracted by some "minor" problems on the home front...
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by Jason Toddman » Fri Aug 01, 2014 5:21 pm

> tony2 wrote:Please keep enjoying yourself and writing. I don't know where this was hiding or I would have read it sooner. Probably distracted by some "minor" problems on the home front...

Yeah, I can definitely relate to those. Thing is, the reader count indicates this story has been seen (if not necessarily read) by hundredof people. You'd think somebody else besides you and Humhumming could have acknowledged it, but most of my usual fans have been silent.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: My High School Years - New Chapters (Explicit)

Post by tony2 » Fri Aug 01, 2014 10:08 pm

must be the season --- I noticed the same type of numbers on my stories 100 reads and one comment type. Either the Summer or they are all on Bf's camping trip and can't get to the keyboard (grin).
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.
ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971