Buster and Wendy
by N Fourbois
Jim and Michael had grown up together. They lived next door to each other and neither could remember a time without the other being there. They had gone through the usual phases: neighbours, friends, best friends and all that entails.
It was towards the end of late Easter school holidays and so spring had truly sprung and the weather was mild. It was that stage when boys would never admit that they were bored and that it was time to get back to school.
Not only were they best friends, but they each had second best friends which were their dogs. Jim had a yellow labrador called Buster and Mike a blue roan spaniel called Wendy. They were the best excuse the boys had for going for a tramp in the nearby woods and though the dogs nearly always returned home tired, and wet and smelly from swimming in the brackish stream, no one ever questioned their motives when the boys disappeared for hours on end with their dogs, heading towards the woods.
The boys knew the woods like the back of their hands; the dogs knew them even better than the back of their paws. They knew the well beaten track followed by ninety-nine percent of the general public, they knew the banks of the stream which ended in a small lake, they knew the hidden parts where only they went, they knew the regular walkers who stopped to pass the time of day allowing their canine companions to savour the scent of the other dogs' bottoms.
As if on autopilot two young men and their dogs headed for the clearing, their clearing, for no one else ever came that way. In the spring, summer and autumn they could go there and do what adolescents liked and needed to do and that was idling their time away. If they did that at home, their parents would soon find something to occupy their time and their minds, but despite having gone through the adolescence process themselves, none of the parents appreciated the young person's need simply to do nothing. In the woods, however, exercising a dog was doing something and even unreconstructed parents understood that principle.
The sun was warm. When thy reached the clearing, all Jim and Mike wanted to do was stretch out on the grass and talk about important things in life. The dogs would look after themselves; they knew the routine. The boys were talking about that very thing, namely how illogical grown ups were and that they would treat their own children logically when they were adults. They were lying there quietly when Jim announced "Hey, Mike, I've got a stiffie."
"That's because you didn't have a wank last night."
"I had one this morning in the shower… as well as last night."
"Do you want me to sort it out for you?" asked Mike. "I've got this new way of doing it. My brother taught me."
"Which one?"
"Paul."
"I didn't know he was gay."
"He's not."
"I thought he had a girlfriend."
"He has, but he's grounded at the moment and not allowed to see her."
"Why? What happened?" said Jim.
"Mum found a used jonnie in his waste-paper bin. She went a bit spare"
"She'd have gone more than spare, if he hadn't used one."
"There you go," said Mike. "Another example of adult logic."
Mike sat down on a tree stump. "Jim, come and stand in front of me."
"So what's this new way of wanking, then?"
"Well, it's not wanking exactly, but it has the same effect and feels a lot, lot better." This was not the first time they had helped each other out in this way. Mike pulled the zip of Jim's jeans down. Immediately his stiff cock boinged out, nearly hitting Mike in the eye. "Hey, you're not wearing any undies!"
"Nah. Didn't feel like it. I like to feel my balls and nob jiggling up and down as I walk or run."
"That's why you got a boner."
Mike grasped Jim's dick in his hand and started to lick it. "Where did you learn to do this?" said Jim.
"I told you. From my brother."
"Where did he learn it from?"
"He said his girlfriend does it to him when she's having her period and they can't have a shag."
"Hey, this is great," said Jim. Then Mike took Jim's acorn into his mouth and started to suck on it. Jim began to groan. "Hold my balls." Mike undid the clasp on Jim's jeans and they fell to his ankles. Then without warning Jim shuddered and shot his load into Mike's mouth. He released Jim's dick, coughing and spluttering, and spat the white liquid gold onto the ground.
Mike looked up. "OMG!" he shouted.
"What?" As he turned round quickly with his jeans round his ankles, he tripped over.
"Look. Buster's humping Wendy." Jim looked up from the ground and it was true. "There's never a bucket of water around when you need one."
"I think it's a bit late for that," said Jim. "They've got to the stage where it's all over and Buster's having a job pulling out. He's stuck." He made a big effort and pulled himself free, whimpering for it had obviously hurt.
"What do we do now?" Both dogs ran up to their masters, wagging their tails as if they hadn't seen them for some time. "I don't think they do morning after pills for dogs."
"I think the best thing is to keep stumm. After all, they could have done it in the woods without our seeing it," said Jim. "And they'll make lovely puppies."
The boys made their way home. Their stomachs were telling them it was lunchtime. "Mike, that wank was something else."
"That wasn't a wank. That was something called a blow job."
"But you sucked. You didn't blow."
"I know, but that's what it's called," said Mike.
"Can we do it again?" asked Jim.
"Yeah, but warn me when you're about to come. I nearly choked. I wanted to swallow it."
"Sure, but it happened so quickly I didn't know myself until it happened and let me do it to you next time." As they parted to go into their own houses, Mike whispered to Jim
"Remember what we said. We know nothing. We're saying nothing. Okay?"
"Okay, that's our little secret."
"And Buster's and Wendy's."
"We're safe there. They won't say a word." The two boys giggled.
"Did you have a nice walkies?" said Mike's mother as he and Wendy came into the kitchen.
"Yes, thanks, Mum," answered Mike.
"I was talking to Wendy. By the way, Michael, I should have done this before, but while you were out, I was looking in my diary and it's about time for Wendy to go on heat. We'll have to keep her in doors for a few days." Images of disappearing horses, bolts and stable doors went through Mike's mind. "We'll get her spayed when this one's over."
"Good idea, Mum. I'll be back at school and won't be able to walk her anyway. What's for lunch?"
© N Fourbois 2013
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