Life in the Morning Wood Zone
by Biff Spork
Chapter 4
Finally my day of grounding is over and around noon the next day I cycle down to the rocky end of the beach. I know that's where Nevada will be because it's farthest from the chips kiosk so it has the lowest population. There are still people there but everyone spaces themselves out enough so you can talk without feeling people are listening. After I chain my bike to a tree I walk out onto the sand and soon spy Nevada's green Speedo. Mine's blue, both of them are as skimpy as possible. No board shorts for us says Nevada, we need maximum exposure to the sun's healing rays, to replenish the Vitamin D. I throw my towel down beside his, doff my shorts and t-shirt and lay down on my belly like him.
Nevada turns his head to me and grins."Buenas anus, amigo."
"Buenos penis, chico."
He gets up on his elbows. "I've been thinking."
"Try not thinking for a change. I mean it. It's really hard. In fact I think it's impossible." Any time I say something is impossible it's like a challenge to Nevada but this time he doesn't bite.
"No, listen. How many times did you jerk off today?"
"Every time I think I manage to stop thinking I realize I'm thinking about not thinking, NOT not thinking," I say, ignoring his question.
"How many?"
"A gentleman never tells."
"How many?" He tilts his head sideways and looks at me threateningly from under clenched eyebrows.
I give up. "Twice!" I enunciate.
"Three for me but by the third I was noticing something."
"You were developing a blistery knob?"
"No, no, no technical problems. But by the third I was feeling a little…dull."
"You should try it on our riding lawnmower."
"Really?"
"Yeah, that was my third yesterday. Pretty exciting. And I had some foreplay with Old Hinkle's little doggy. "
"You had sex with the neighbor's dog?"
"Well, no, but I sorta helped him out…."
"Interesting," says Nevada, getting that look on his face when he is filing another piece of information away for later consideration. "Anyway, aside from your excursion into zoophilia, I think we're on a plateau, we're getting stagnant. We're losing the edge we had as we entered puberty, when it was all so new and exciting."
"It's time to take things in hand," I remark.
"Precisely," says Nevada, narrowing his eyes. "We need to broaden our horizons. But not here, not now." He stands up and stretches. "Now is the time for all good boys to rush out into the water and get cool."
And we did. And then we baked dry and ran into the water again. And ran back and baked the other side. One of the things I like about Nevada is that we don't have to talk. Mostly we have fun when we talk but lots of times we have a few hours of silence when we just do things together without talking about it. I come out of a light snooze when I hear Nevada shaking the sand off his towel.
When we've retrieved our bikes Nevada turns in the direction of his house. "C'mon," he says. "The parents are at an all-day conference and we can relax and explore some new alternatives."
I like Nevada's old house. It's full of nooks and crannies all stuffed with strange things his parents have accumulated in their travels. For instance, there's an umbrella stand in the front hall with a bunch of wicked looking spears in it, real spears. And there's little shelves here and there that carry Buddhas and other statues like elephant gods, old men with bulbous heads carrying peaches and people with eight arms and necklaces of skulls. The walls are covered with batiks and tapestries. If you ask his parents about anything you'll get a long and usually interesting lecture about it. It's a comfortable house. You can sit down anywhere in big soft furniture and there's always something exotic to look at.
In the kitchen we check out Nevada's dedicated cupboards, his pantry. Since he was ten his parents have given him a food allowance so he can do his own shopping and buy whatever he wants to eat. Of course he can't eat like a normal person. He's vegan and he's working on me to stop eating dead animals. But what he lays out for our snack is pretty good - some great taco chips and a spicy avocado dip chased down with some fruit-flavored yogurty drinks made from coconuts.
Nevada's room is messy. I told him so once and he said, "It's not messy. Everything is where it should be. Your perception of disorder is based on your twisted view of what order consists of. You've been conditioned, my boy, conditioned to view everything where order is not symmetrical as being 'messy'. Without ever looking I know you have a sock drawer and I know what your sock drawer looks like – every sock matched with another identical sock. It's downright simple-minded, a sign of a cloistered imagination." There was a lot more, most of which made pretty good sense though I'd never try it out on my mother. It's easier for me to just put stuff away in the right place.
I'm still buzzed on beach and sun so I throw myself into one of the bean bags in Nevada's bedroom and put my hand inside my shorts. "So," I say, "new alternatives?"
Nevada kicks off his shoes and socks and lies back in the other bean bag. "Patience, Grasshopper." Then he intones, "The river of wisdom flows slowly but always reaches the ocean...." We're both addicted to re-runs of a 70s TV show called "Kung Fu" where a Chinese boy monk is nicknamed "Grasshopper" by aged priests who constantly lambaste him with bits of obscure philosophy.
"But the fountain of sperm spurts exuberantly when the time is right...." I declaim. "And when the balls are boiling, Grasshopper, the steam must escape." A few hours at the beach always makes me horny.
"We'll get there. See, I've been thinking about the whole subject of sex. Not just the little jerk-off details but the big picture. You see, we've kind of got off on a side trip just playing with our dicks and having orgasms. That's fine but that's just a small part of the process."
He lifts a foot up and picks some sand out from between his toes. Okay, I've got to admit here that I wish I had toes like Nevada. Like, mine are okay but kind of square and short. His are longer and wiry, and sensitive looking, intelligent looking. I always find myself looking at his bare feet and feeling guilty because I like them so much, I like looking at them so much. I want to have feet just exactly like that. I want them to be my feet.
"You see," he says, "it's time to stop thinking about our dongs as THE sex organ."
I nod, waiting for the rest.
"The whole body is a sex organ, from head to toe. And what is a sex organ? We know the eyes see light, and the ears hear sounds, the tongue tastes things, the nose smells things and the skin senses temperature and texture, but the dong, the penis, the greatest of sense organs, what does the mighty penis sense?"
"My hand?" I offer. My hand is enjoying my penis as we speak. Nevada stretches out his leg, hooks his foot under my arm and pulls my hand out of my pants.
"Your hand! Your hand is just a facsimile, a fake, a false alarm. Your penis, and, by extension, your entire body is built to sense other people, directly. That's what's missing in our current activities, Grasshopper, the OTHER."
"The other what?"
"The other person," he says, looking vaguely into the distance.
"So now we should get someone else to jerk us off?" I'm starting to get frustrated with philosophy.
"Why someone else?"
"You mean, US?"
"Well it seems we don't have any choice. We don't hang out with anyone else now it's summer. See, I figure there's a set of frequencies you're missing when you just do yourself. It's like if all you ever heard was your own voice you'd never know what other sounds you're missing, like bird songs or music. Our sense organs are capable of picking up a lot more than just what we generate ourselves. Now, if we were to touch each other, I expect it would be a lot different than just touching ourselves."
"But, yoo hoo, hello there, aren't you forgetting we're both boys. And…."
"Yes, yes, yes that was my first thought too but I don't think it should make any difference. It's one of those things that I hope to discover as we proceed." He leans forward in his chair. "Tyler, we have to approach this in a logical, scientific way, not get all tangled up in archaic prejudices." He spreads his hands out. "It's simply an experiment to see if there are sensations we're missing because we're only tuned to our own frequencies. It's not important that we are both boys. What is important for the purposes of this experiment is that we're both OTHER. The thesis I want to test is that when you touch me it will feel different from when I touch myself. And vice-versa."
I still don't know exactly where this is heading but it sounds like a cum is on the horizon and I trust Nevada. "Okay," I say. I'm horny enough to try anything. "What do I do?"
"Get up on the bed and lie down on your back. Usually we just jump straight in to stroking our cocks. But generally, when TWO people are going to have sex they start with some foreplay to get their whole bodies engaged in the process. So, I thought we might just explore some typical foreplay for now."
"Some typical foreplay?"
"Yes."
"Like what?"
"Don't worry. I've done some research into what's typical. I'm not going to do anything invasive or threatening. Just close your eyes and relax."
A moment later I feel him fiddling with my shoes and dropping them to the floor. Then he peels off each sock. My feet feel the coolness, happy to get out of those hot shoes. Nevada's warm hand cups my heel and the other hand slides up the sole of my foot. He rubs between each of my toes and gently squeezes each one. Then he does the other foot. Then his hands caress my calves and thighs. I'm hard again. This is so nice. I've never had anyone feel me like this. The button on top of my shorts gets undone and the zipper is pulled down. Then he grasps both sides of my shorts and slowly pulls them off. I'm still wearing my speedo and my dick is straining to get out. He runs his hands under my t-shirt up to my nipples and grazes them a couple of times. They feel like they are glowing.
"Okay, sit up for a sec. Are you okay so far?"
"Hmmm. It's weird but nice." He pulls my t-shirt over my head and pushes me back down again. All his moves are slow and gentle. This is weird. We've seen each other naked dozens of times but getting undressed WITH someone is just not the same as getting undressed BY someone. He runs his fingers lightly over my arms and chest, grazing my nipples again. I almost feel like cumming. His hands move down to unknot my speedo. He lifts up the front to free my dick and slides the speedo down my legs. My dick eagerly bounces up and down a few times. He starts again with my feet, just feeling each toe and holding and caressing each foot. I am just floating in this haze of pleasure as his hands move up my legs. One warm hand holds my balls and the other gently grips my dick. It's like tiny little cums everywhere he touches. Then he moves up to my nipples again. Then his fingers explore my face. His hands move down to my nipples and each is rubbed with the palms of his hands.
"Okay," he says leaning back. "How was that?"
"Oh God, that was awesome. You're absolutely right. It's totally different from touching myself when somebody else touches me. But I'm definitely going to explode soon. What happens next?"
"Now," he says, "if you don't mind, you do me. Just the same. Okay?"
"Okay," I say as I scoot over and point to where I was lying. He lies down and I slide down to where his feet are. I like his feet so much it is not hard to fit my hands to them and finger each toe. His feet feel even better than they look. I move up his legs and get his shorts off, trying not to rush though I want him to experience what it is like to have someone else hold your dick. But I try to follow the script he has laid out. Hands under the t-shirt and a little grind over the nipples. I feel them get hard and I give them a few extra rubs. His t-shirt comes off next and I feel his face and run my pointer finger over his lips before returning to his chest and those stiff little nipples, coffee colored against his golden tan. Next that green speedo comes off and his dick jerks upward from his smooth, pale crotch as if blindly reaching for something. I start again at his feet and work slowly up his legs. Then I hold his balls very carefully in one hand and wrap the other around his dick. It is so nice and warm and smooth. And hard, really hard. Like me, he is not circumcised. It's totally different from holding my own dick. I resist the temptation to slide his foreskin down and give him a few strokes. Instead I just move up his belly to his nipples again. My hard-on is flopping against his thigh. It feels his warmth and wants me to grind against him.
"I hope things will get messy soon," I say.
"Mmmmmmmmm," groans Nevada. "All in due time, Grasshopper. All in due time." He rolls onto his side so we are facing each other. I reach down and clasp his dick. He takes my hand away and puts it on his waist, then puts his hand on my waist.
"Do you want to move on to the next phase of this experiment?" he says.
"I don't know if I can stand much more of this scientific approach," I say.
"Just to touch base, would you say this is an avenue worth exploring further? Are you okay with this?"
"Yes, yes, I'm all for gathering new data. How is it for you?"
"Okay. Definitely a worthwhile experience. I believe my thesis is correct. Now remember, the point of all this is to get away from the hand-to-dick kind of sex we've been experiencing. I thought for the next step in this experiment we could examine the kiss."
"The kiss...."
"Yes, the kiss. It seems to be a fundamental part of the process."
We are very close but not actually touching except for our hands on each other's waists. And our knees are touching. He leans towards me and touches my lips with his. I'm surprised his lips are cool. I thought they would be sort of hot because they are so red. He leans back and smiles. "Shall we go again?"
I nod. He leans in again and our lips meet. His lips open and I feel his tongue teasing my lips. I open my mouth a little and his tongue darts in for a second. I can taste a hint of that strawberry yogurty stuff from his tongue. Mine was banana flavored. I push my tongue into his mouth and feel around in his bottom teeth. I've seen those teeth so often but I never felt them. I run my tongue over each tooth, getting to know them. Then his tongue finds mine and the two tongues meet. At the same time I feel his hand move from my waist around to my back. He pulls me closer so our bellies are pressed together and our tongues are dancing, sometimes in his mouth and sometimes in mine. I pull him closer and move my hand down to his bum. It feels so smooth and warm so I stroke it like petting a cat. It has a curve that just fits my hand. I feel his hand on my bum. Gawd, nobody ever touched my bum before. I love it. I never even knew that my bum could feel anything but when his hand touches it, it feels like it's been waiting since I was born to be touched like that. We are now pressed together all along our bodies. I feel the tops of his toes wriggling against the bottoms of my feet. Our dicks are squashed together against our bellies. He pulls me closer. Our mouths are glued together and our tongues seem to be discovering a new language beyond sounds or words. We writhe together and wriggle against each other and then, I feel it coming. I don't know what to do but in an instant it's too late to do anything. As I begin to spurt I feel his penis jerk too and both of us rock together in an orgasm that seems to last forever. I feel like I'm melting into him and I never want it to stop.
We lie in peace, dazed, for a few minutes, still glued together. Then we pull our faces apart and look into each other's eyes.
Nevada grins and says, "Look Ma, no hands!"
I feel like crying and laughing at the same time. I pull him tighter against me and whisper in his ear, "I love science!"
Then we hear some noises downstairs and realize that Nevada's parents have come home. By the time we leap up, wipe off and get dressed I suddenly have an urgent need to be alone.
"I've got to go," I say to Nevada as I leave his room and I am down the hall and out of the house as fast as my legs can take me. I run all the way home. WTF? I forgot my bike at Nevada's. What is wrong with me? This is bad. In my room I can't sit still. I can't stop thinking but I don't want to think about what just happened. I just had the best experience of my life. So why do I feel like I'm totally destroyed ? I stare out the window without seeing anything. It's like I left something very important somewhere and I miss it terribly even though I can't remember what it was or where I left it.
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