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Message-ID: <43218asstr$1057255803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: stardog105@hotmail.com (Bob)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 3 Jul 2003 12:43:14 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Cousin Malcolm (pre-teen boy/boy sex exploration, true)
Date: Thu,  3 Jul 2003 14:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Malcolm - Part 1 of 3

"What..do..you..want..to..do  ?" Malcolm whispered each word separate
to avoid the possibility that it could be recognized as speech and so
close to me ear that even if someone was in the same room they could
not hear the sounds.

I turned, whispered back in the same way, "I..don't.. know..."

I waited in the silence, in the dark. Could not rush this, his
commitment.

Malcolm whispered back, very tentative, "Let's ... suck."

Since there were only two choices on the menu this selection was not
unexpected. And it had the great value that it did not preclude the
other choice a bit later, where as for the reverse, our standards of
hygiene precluded sucking after fucking.

Wow, I thought this is really great. And he was even being aggressive
in handling me, something I'd not expected. Yeah, tonight will be a
full experience. We were all of 12 or 13, could fuck like mink half
the night, each of us come 2 or 3 times by morning, and were full of
sperm when next night we'd get in bed with each other. It was heaven.

We'd started 1 or 2 years before and we'd continue until both of us
were in our 20's. As first cousins we had lots of opportunity to be
together and we took advantage of it. Looking back I can see that
sometimes our parents encouraged our night time intimacy but can't
really say this was their intention. They sure thwarted our plans
enough times to be convincing that we were to behave if they suspected
anything unusual going on.

The relationship between Malcolm and me changed wildly as we grew.
First off we were not similar in our personalities. He was always much
more laid back than me, much more willing to try something and drop
it. I was high strung and went overboard on everything. Then as we
grew I became fixated on sex, Malcolm found it (especially with me) to
be quite optional. This tipped the equilibrium between us. At some
point he was fending me off while I was inconsiderately pushy.
Probably as I became more boy crazy Malcolm lost all interest in that
direction, branching out to the other gender for any comfort he
wished. Since such discord does not improve the narrative of our
sexual interaction, I'll avoid bringing it up later, but that does not
mean that there was not a lot going on otherwise. And since we had ten
plus years of sexual adventures, I'll break things into snippets,
generally chronological, to give a sense of the progression. Its not
history, more like flashes of memory.

xxx

Malcolm was 9 months younger than me, maybe designed to be my
play-time pal. No telling. Growing up we spent all holidays, vacations
and about half the weekends together as a combined family.

Up until middle school we were always underfoot of our families and
although sleeping in the same room had separate beds, consistent with
the family sense of propriety and also because Malcolm wet the bed. I
had a childish quirk of my own, I rocked myself to sleep. I'd curl up
on my side and rock. We accepted each other's habits, had so since our
infancy. They were not mentioned.

When we reached middle school I discovered masturbation. If there was
one person I wanted to share this with it was Malcolm. We were
probably 9 and 10 respectively. After a friendly wrestling bout on a
bed I felt that he was not put off by body contact so I decided that
if I could I'd broach the subject with him. That chance happened later
in the weekend visit. We were out walking in his neighborhood, the
first time in the whole visit we could not be seen or overheard by our
families.

In an oblique way I brought up that kids at school talked about
playing "here" (I pointed to my zipper.).

Malcolm said he'd heard things too.

"It feels good but you can't stop," I ventured.

Malcolm made some acknowledgement. We both conveyed our regret over
our situation.

"Ah, how about we do things together next time I'm down and we can get
left at home when they (our pairs of parents) go out shopping?" I
asked him.

"Yeah."

I was a little surprised he agreed, almost automatically. But because
we always were playing at different things this fit that pattern. All
that we'd need was a break.

And we got it.

Sure enough on the next weekend visit our parents arranged to go
grocery shopping. Malcolm and I begged off, got left alone in the
house.

We raced to the back bedroom.

"Ah lets wait a couple minutes if they suddenly have to return to pick
up keys or a purse or something,"

We agreed.

In another few minutes we felt it was safe.

We started taking off our clothes, all of them, even shoes and socks.

I had sat on the bed peeling of my slacks and underwear while Malcolm
stood in front of me dropping his jeans.

"Oh," I exclaimed, "you're not circumcised either."

This was a big deal for me. I'd seen Malcolm nude once before that I
could remember but his status had not registered. Now it did. All the
other boys I knew at school and in the neighborhood were cut. I was
odd man out. Here I had a friend who was just like me. Almost.

In short order both of us got stark naked. We stood facing each other,
not quite toe to toe but close.

Malcolm was dark head to foot, like a rich tan. His genitals were
small. The penis, now poking out was 2 inches of wobbly flesh encased
in a dark sheath of skin coming to a drooping squash blossom of a
pucker at the long overhang. His scrotum was equally dark and small.

I was a pasty pink showing none of the taunt muscles Malcolm had. My
penis was fleshy, a thick four-inch white column with veining showing.
The mushroom glans peeped more then half way out of the loose cowl of
foreskin.

Of course both of us were as hairless as any newborn. Every dimple and
bulge at the crotch, every curve of the scrotum was perfectly
wonderfully obvious.

No doubt we bowed our bodies forward thrusting a stiff penis at each
other.

"It's bigger..." Malcolm murmured, obviously bothered by his
shortcomings.

"Yeah, [so?]," I replied not worried about it.

"What can we do?" he asked.

Good question. I had not planned anything.

"Ah, lets fuck each other?" I guessed.

I turned my back to him. "Me first."

He walked up close behind me, his penis grazing my amble cheeks.

Malcolm held his position.

"Let me try," I said.

We turned in the opposite direction. I steadied my penis and noticed
that there really was no way to get in anywhere. I nudged up against
his flat tanned behind but just as he had done stopped any movement.

We stepped apart, flummoxed by the complication.

"Let's show how we jack, OK?" I asked. 

We stepped several feet apart, stood facing each other, seeing the
other nude head to foot handling his stiff penis.

"No," I said, "you godda do it this way."

I planted my feet wide apart, bent my knees and raised up on my toes,
probably in emulation of the dance pose of Elvis Presley, as I jacked
my erection in a tight fist straight up so I could look at the red
knob as it got capped and covered in the loose skin.

"This is how."

Malcolm took the same pose and began his masturbating in front of me,
a mirror image of me.

He jacked his stiff little penis so his balls jiggled wildly between
spread legs.

It was a fantastic sight. I immediately felt a build up to my
ejaculation.

Since we were on a carpet I could not spurt freely leaving "evidence."
I gathered my foreskin over the tip letting it form an envelope and
felt wave after wave of come fill the reservoir at the end.

"I'm jizzing. I'm jizzing," I let Malcolm know.

He stopped his masturbating to watch as I jerked and spasmed in place
as if a puppet whose strings were being pulled.

"Oh. Oh. Wanna see? You wanna see?" I asked as I headed quickly for
the bathroom to release the milky liquid into the toilet.

"Ah, no," he replied.

I cleaned up a little, got back to the bedroom. All of my impetus at
sex totally gone in the trough of slow recovery.

Malcolm was not continuing with his masturbation (maybe he'd done it
while I was gone?) and we sort of drifted back into our clothes. We
talked about if he had any pictures to jack off to, but by now the
opportunity had passed both us by. Our parents might be back soon too.
We'd better get looking like nothing happened.

xxx

I had a week or two to go over this adventure in my mind. I am sure I
masturbated constantly in the vision of Malcolm, legs open, bent over
to see his erection, masturbating for me to watch. I worried about the
fucking failure. What was the secret? At some point I got a flash of
insight. On the toilet you pooped cause you sat so if you could get
that same posture, legs up then you could get in with a stiff dick. It
was sheer genius. I couldn't wait to tell Malcolm I'd solved our
problem.

At the next visit that is exactly what I did once I got him someplace
where I could whisper my idea to him. He thought it was genius too. We
told each other that now we had to arrange sleeping together so we
could do our first fuck.

His mom was skeptical. "He might pee on you," she warned.

I brushed that off and so it happened we were allowed to sleep in the
same twin bed, his little sister in the other, in the back bedroom,
where we'd had our masturbation demo before.

Both of us were so anxious to jump into bed together we sort of raced
into the bedroom the first chance it looked like the house was going
to turn in. Possibly our general antics were in keeping with this
eagerness that it seemed the usual silliness to our parents and we
were left in peace, to close the door, get down to our underwear and
beneath the covers side by side.

We fervently whispered back and forth if we should wait cause people
were still moving around.

But before we could decide, we both asked each other the important
question: "Are you hard?"

The lights were still on so to confirm for each other what we had, we
both opened our briefs, pulling the elastic waistband out and down. We
looked under the tented covers at each other's bare groin.

Yep, we both were hard.

Then, as if it was quite natural and something we had done before,
each of us took the one free hand and gathered up the other's stiff
penis to give it a good feel, probably to determine how hard it was.

Apparently that was not something quickly to decide. Both of us kept
rubbing and holding the other's stiff organ and could not give it up.
At the same time I was feeling, and I'm sure Malcolm did too, these
fantastic sensations at my penis as it was being handled so thoroughly
by my partner.

We each slipped our briefs down below our groin so the penis was free
to be explored by the other. We fell into an easy masturbation rhythm
together, each penis being slowly jacked so the skin kept over the
head. It was a delicious sensation to have it done and to do it at the
same time. Malcolm's penis was real stiff in my hand, letting me know
he was just as excited as me.

We slipped our briefs way down our legs.

"Hey, nobody's coming in for a while, let's fuck, OK?" I whispered,
our heads touching as we handled our partner's penis.

"How?" he asked.

"Roll over and pull your knees up," I answered.

A good sport, Malcolm turned his back to me in bed, drew up his knees.

I pressed up close against him, guiding my blind but one eyed dick
along the crease of his behind.

"No," he whispered. "Lower."

I pressed lower. My erection bent down but seemed to point off into
nothing.

"Here," Malcolm directed. He reached behind his back, got hold of my
erection and pressed it to his behind while he inched up in the bed,
changed his position so he was at more of an angle to me.

"There," he said.

I took over the holding to steady it so it would not slip off mark.

I pressed forward.

As if by magic there was a feeling of moving forward, inside. Wow.

I pressed more and repositioned my hips closer, not letting the
contact point move. It went in some more. The penis head felt like it
was inside, like it was being kissed.

I leaned forward again and the penis went inside to below the head.
The foreskin had peeled back and the tightness was now down on my
shaft, not total but for a good half way I was inside Malcolm's
behind.

"Yikes !!!" Malcolm yelped, turning his head slightly in surprise
toward me.

Oh Oh, I thought. Hope no body heard that. The room light was still
on. At anytime people could open the door and walk in.

No body did.

Malcolm lay his head back down, let his body relaxed totally as he
stayed curled up next to me.

It was sure time for him to get fucked.

Novice that I was I lightly tested, withdrawing a fraction and
pressing in a fraction.

Malcolm lay there utterly comfortable.

I increased the length of my strokes, feeling how my foreskin got
stripped off the bulbous head on the in stroke and covered it back as
I withdrew to the edge. It was a delicious feeling. I was inside
Malcolm, my penis working up and back in his hot behind. On each deep
push in the uncovered head to my penis was engulfed in the most
exciting hot moist surface rubbing against it. My shaft was being
milked tight by his tiny hole muscle too. It was fantastic.

Without too many strokes I began squirting all my jizz. Shot after
shot streamed into Malcolm's squeezing tunnel. I pressed in as deep as
possible letting the foreskin strain back from the head, pushing the
shaft all the way in, giving me the feel of his cheeks against me. I
was motionless as spurt after spurt came from me. Malcolm must have
felt the throb-throb-throb as each jolt went in him.

Then I sort of refocused, realizing my erection was wilting inside his
behind and that the lights were still on, the door might open soon.
What were we to do?

Again I was totally, instantly, disinterested in sex. (Wow, what a
selfish little pig.)

"Get up, go to the bathroom to clean [and come right back]," I
suggested. How did I know if he would leak or if he had to poop it our
or what?

Every willing, Malcolm got back in his shorts and tottered off to the
bathroom, opening the door to the hall, still showing lights there and
sounds of people in different stages of preparing for bed. I heard him
make it to the bathroom, close the door.

I waited.

He did not come back, minute by minute. What was going on?

It seemed (again) like the opportunity has passed. (And of course I'd
already come, right?) So with not much fuss I left the room, got
bedding from my parents and made a place to sleep in the living room.
I did not see Malcolm again that night.

The next day he came up to me, asked "Why did you go?" (This proves
not only that he came back to his bed looking for me and sex last
night but that he was sexually needy after our first masturbation
session when I'd come first leaving him in the lurch.)

I (piggily) replied, "Got tired waiting."

In his good grace Malcolm smiled, accepted my answer.

Of course such lofty sensitivities on my part quickly evaporated once
I got a sperm build up again. Then I could only think of fucking,
fucking, fucking, both ways the next chance we got.

xxx

On the next visit we were able to get both twin beds in his bedroom.
No little sister, just the two of us behind a closed door. Still there
were complications, the bed springs squeaked, we could be suddenly
walked in on, whatever we said could be overheard easily. Using some
care and receiving lots of dumb luck we were able to evade getting
caught, though it did limit our sexual combinations. This was abetted
by my latest brain storm, oral sex.

On a school wall I saw an obscene sketch showing two men in 69
position one above the other sucking each other's dicks. I was
shocked. My sense of hygiene did not admit for such activity without
dire health consequences, not from the ejaculation (which of course I
was unwilling to imagine receiving at all) but from the "dirty" penis
itself. Still, my fevered imagination turned the idea over and over
coming to the conclusion that with Malcolm since we shared the same
germs anyway we would not come to harm.

Behind the closed door, still with the lights on before the whole
household had gone to bed we talked in hushed tones, discussing our
options. I brought up the idea of oral sex. "Hey, everybody talks
about `Blow-Jobs' so it must be alright, right?"

Malcolm did not immediately take to the idea.

"Well," I ventured, "let's make it a game. The loser has to do the
winner, `n that way it makes it fair."

He agreed with my unerring logic. 

The game was to guess a number from 1 to 10 in three tries with the
hints of "higher" "lower" given after each guess. (We trusted each
other to not cheat since the winning number was not written down
anywhere.)

Not surprisingly I was the one giving the answers and Malcolm lost in
three guesses on our first round.

"But you can't shoot jizz," he required as he got up from his bed,
came over to mine.

I agreed.

I was totally naked, having pulled off my underwear once under covers.
I folded back the bed clothes revealing my very hard erection that I'd
been fondling while the game progressed.

Malcolm bent over and pursed his lips somewhere about half way down
the bursting shaft.

He kept that position not moving at all, providing the minimal effort
to have completed his forfeit.

But the sensation was fantastic anyway, just as consuming hot as when
I'd fucked his behind.

I was able to see how he held it in the tight ring of his lips, kept
his cheeks out so they would not brush the tip.

"Blow it," I ordered.

He puffed his cheeks out. Of course it did nothing for the sensation.

He released it from his lips, making sure that his mouth was way open
as he pulled back so my penis did not benefit from any accidental
contact.

What a gyp.

Oh well.

We decided that since he'd done it first we didn't need the game again
to determine who should do it next.

The house was quieting down. Lights had gone off. We decided that I'd
risk getting into bed with him.

I turned off our light, crawled up along side of him in bed.

His briefs were down. My hands found his struggling erection poking up
at attention. I slipped lower in the bed, bent over him, tented under
the covers. Holding his shaft I popped the penis well into my mouth,
licking it all over and compressing my cheeks so it felt squeezed root
to foreskinned tip.

Malcolm lay flat to the bed, soaking up the sensations.

I puffed up my cheeks, did the "blowing" thing, obviously not
eliciting anything from my supine beneficiary. I reverted to sucking
his dick, moving the mouth smoothly up and down the wet shaft, feeling
his bunch of foreskin against my tongue. I raised slightly up so my
tongue could tease the opening bud of the gathered skin, worming its
way in. It unfolded under the probing, letting my tongue get a full
dose of the taste of his inner skin and glans, a rich mix of
stickiness, pee and smegma. It was so exciting to have this unexpected
contact.

I steadied his erection at the shaft just below the flange of the head
so I could slip my pointed tongue in further along the outer rim of
the pointed glans where it was at a tight "v" made between it and the
sleeve of covering foreskin, More sexy flavors and odors flowed into
me.

Malcolm bucked his hips. Sensation overload. Ouch.

Sorry.

I took out my tongue, sucked his penis in way deep but kept the sore
head covered. Slowly I let it slip out of my tight mouth, leaving is
sticky wet from tummy to puckered foreskin.

We lay side by side together, hands crossed in mutual masturbation.
For not the last time I squirted quick as a bunny. Malcolm took longer
and shot sticky dribbles that trickled on my fingers as he wilted to a
tiny squiggle.

xxx

My middle name should be "misfire" for the accidents I endured. Two
come to mind.

After a day of messing with each other, such as slipping several times
unobtrusively into the bathroom together to whip out our dicks through
our pants to compare size, holding them horizontal one on the other,
rubbing their skinned heads to each other (getting them "introduced"),
and pressing them up, dick belly to dick belly for a quick joint
jacking session, Malcolm and I would go to bed at night fully primed
with all the jizz we could carry.

And in bed while we waited for the house to settle we'd sneak peeks of
each other laying there nude, cop a feel of each other's genital
package, just adding more pressure to our bulging immature glands.

incident one

Malcolm had agreed he'd suck on me to start off the night's sexual
entertainment. The lights in the room were still on, people were
moving around elsewhere but we felt we could sneak this little
enjoyment in now.

He came over to my bed. I lifted off the covers showing him my stiff
dick. He immediately bent over placing it deep in his mouth though
with only contact at his pursed lips. His unexpected  quick action,
and seeing fully, totally, my hard dick in his mouth triggered an
orgasm.

I reached up and pressed his forehead. He raised up just as the first
spurt of jizz leapt out over my belly and chest, followed by several
more in dramatically rapid shots.

Malcolm made it back into his bed before my last dry throb.

incident two

Same situation, naked in bed, lights on, door closed. Malcolm and I
were talking over what all we wanted to do, the game, ah should we
suck or fuck? etc. I was manipulating myself with both hands, working
my nuts so hard they felt like they would crack, and my dick was stiff
to the point of permanent unbendability. To pace myself I'd jack it a
bit, just to tease, then release it to throb seconds from explosion.
All the while looking at Malcolm, knowing he was masturbating too in
his separate bed.

In the very quiet house, hardly any talking left, there was the slam
of a door. I'd just released my dick from a hard jacking, not more
than a second between stopping its torment and the big Bang of the
door. That was all it took. I felt the coil up of my orgasm and next I
knew my free dick was spewing jizz like it was a fire hose.

This time I whispered a lame excuse to my patient partner, "I've had
it for tonight, sorry."

xxx

Fucking seemed to be a favorite between us. It had no liability to
Malcolm that sucking with its mouthful of tastes offered. But since we
were in separate beds and coupling up under covers opened the chance
for a discovery that could not be reasonably explained away we opted
for masturbation and the occasional trade of a suck, Malcolm always
getting more than me and maybe more than he wanted.

But I do remember one fuck, this time my own.

Not sure where the other memories of fucking between us before the
first and this time went to but they happened. This one incident
benefited from earlier experiments.

We were in separate beds discussing what we might do. Malcolm cut
through the talk to say he wanted to fuck me.

We agreed that once the lights were out then he could move over to me.

Eventually lights went out, the house quieted to absolute silence.
Malcolm stealthily poured himself out of bed onto the carpet to
minimize creaking of springs to slip next to me as I dangled off my
bed, my covers thrown back exposing me (though in darkness) as naked
to his hands. He put his weight on my bed to climb in but the springs
made a racket in the tomb-like silence of the house.

"We can do it off the side," I whispered in his ear.

I rolled over, pulled my knees up, presented my still ample behind at
an angle to the edge of the bed and even let it hang over some for his
complete access.

He, in pajamas, fished his penis out from the opening. It dangled limp
and dejected, a stage fright victim in these awkward conditions.

I knew it was soft cause I had reached back to guide it in.

"I'll take care of it," I mouthed with hardly any air moving.

His penis was so cute when it was small and soft. It was like a toy
for me. I loved making it rear up stiff and full of jizz to spit.

I massaged it in my hand, milking it toward the sensitive head that
rolled like an oiled ball bearing in the moist sleeve of skin
covering. As it responded, I allowed it to stretch and arch up with
easier jacks and pulls so it was a full pointing erection ready for
its big adventure. I made sure that the tip, covered or bare, nuzzled
exactly against my opening, sort of giving his organ encouragement of
where it was going to go. This seemed to do the trick. Malcolm took
over, got his hand around the bone-hard shaft to steady it for the
press in. The small head entered easily, the skinned shaft plunged in
all in one smooth stroke.

Once so nicely established, Malcolm pulled his erection out and pumped
it back home in a set of short hip thrusts, which became longer as he
grew more adventurous. The strokes also became more rapid. At points
I'd put my hand on his hip to have him slow down, be less enthusiastic
rather than slip out of me, and make an ill-aimed lunge to return. He
was not discouraged, tempered his strokes and fucked me soundly as I
lay curled passively for him.

Because of his relatively smaller size I did not get the effect of
having my bottom filled or outer ring stretched, but that was not a
great loss. Malcolm's erection in me kept up a good rhythm pummeling
the channel until I felt very used. I'd feel fucked even the next day.

Malcolm, at a plateau of gratification from this unvarying position,
and maybe tired in his legs and knees, withdrew in a delicious long
stroke, leaving me a hollow sensation needing a stiff dick to remedy.
But he was done. He'd gotten what he wanted.

We masturbated each other to sticky completion. He slinked soundlessly
back to his bed contented in his prolonged fuck session.

xxx

I  remember a great little masturbation session we had early one
morning, a time we usually would not be dare but for some reason felt
we had a little window of privacy.

I got his agreement to climb into bed with him, pull the covers up as
we half sat against our pillows with comic books stuck on our laps,
presumably reading together. Of course the reality was that each had
snaked his penis through the slit in briefs and pajama bottoms to poke
out belligerently under the tent of the bedclothes to give access to
our partner's enthusiastic free hand cleverly hidden from sight. While
this kept our balls properly snugged up in clothing, our dicks
strained like goose necks from the slit in our lower wear. At times
I'd raise the curtain so to speak on the proceedings checking how
excited our dicks looked once jacked into a nice lather. I'm sure
Malcolm took a good look to see if he was catching up with me and in
the general enjoyment of a vision of ourselves being handled so
beguilingly by a partner who knew what to do with us once we got hard.

Because of Malcolm's sensitivity I refrained from peeling him back
during his masturbation and he, possibly not aware of that pleasure,
did not skin me. We would just keep jacking along the shaft, letting
the skin rub over the flange and expose the knob incidentally. It
offered immense gratification, in my experience. So much sensation
that I was often ready to spurt so had to take his hand off me to let
my dick bob free to cool off. Malcolm was not hesitant in resuming its
torment once more, leading me to remove his hand again in a shorter
interval. (And in this current situation I didn't want to squirt over
my pajamas so had to eventually have him stop handling me at all.)

But Malcolm was wired differently. He never had spontaneous
ejaculations like me. He would squirt only after a variety of
activity, getting enjoyment from all he could before wanting to wrap
things up. Masturbation was the capper for him. It developed the
intensity he needed to push him over into orgasm. After the sucking,
after the fucking, after trading masturbation (with me stopping him
frequently from triggering me to come) he would want to close things
down. I'd come, effortlessly, his mere touch by then. That out of the
way he'd lay back and I'd begin on him, leading him through stages of
excitement until his thoroughly manipulated dick spurted, the dribbles
more copious as the months of our secret activities drifted by.

I got a great sense of completion from getting him to jizz. We both
dropped off to sleep totally fulfilled.

Or so we thought. 

We had yet to arrive into teenage where our hormones kicked in, giving
our bodies a depth of sensation, our imaginations a widening scope to
bring us into a higher level of sex with each other.

And for what its worth, Malcolm never wet the bed again and I never
had to rock myself to sleep again when we'd had sex.

--to be continued--

Comments? Questions? What to share your experience? Write me at
stardog105@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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