Sweet Sixteen

by Tonimus
© MMVI
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'Show me yours?' I ask Mark.

Mark lies on the carpet of his living room, on his left side, with his legs bent and his head propped up on his left hand, as he watches TV. It's late in the afternoon and we've been home from school for an hour now. I just stopped by my house for a moment, then went up to Mark's. That he lives two houses up from me is so convenient. For Mark lives in my heart and I in his, and living almost beside each other is the greatest.

I slam down on the carpet beside Mark so we are like two spoons, my belly cradled into his bum, a position we both enjoy so often. I look at the screen and Simon Camden is being totally pretty there, all long blond hair and white teeth. I bend forward slightly and kiss Mark on his right ear, the only one that's free. He shrugs his shoulder, pretending not to like it, but I know better and Mark enjoys a wet tongue on his ear.

I shove my belly forward a bit, letting my stiffie press into Mark's bum, just to let him know that Lil Tony is there. Not that he doesn't know, for Mark well knows that I can hardly see him in the same room but my groin springs into a champion zucchini. His too. Been like that for years now, ever since we discovered, round age eleven, that we had special feelings for each other. One day we were just two boys who lived almost next door, and played in the ways of all eleven year olds, rambunctious and never evil, yet totally intent on destroying the other on the GameBoy. Then something hit us out of the blue, and it's name was love, and you know it too. I saw something in Mark's eyes one day, something that I recognized as part of me, even if I could put no words to it, nor could he. He leaned into my face and my mouth automatically opened to meet his open lips, even if not a word passed between us. We just knew that the other wanted a kiss. And that, in an instant, we shared a big secret and an even bigger trust that one would never betray the other. For that happens when two boys first kiss. For sure that was our first kiss of love. And down below, my still-immature dickie pulsed into a strange and awesome stiffie, mashed into Mark's belly. I felt his answering stiffie hard against my belly, lying just beside mine, with only our two pairs of jeans separating the new friends. Ever since I can hardly see Mark, or spend five minutes in his company, without a major boner attack.

Mark hasn't answered my question. He concentrates on that brat Simon Camden on the screen. Pretty, but oh so dumb. But, without taking his eyes off the TV, Mark reaches down and unzips his jeans. Then he flexes one leg straight, to make things easier for me to do what he thinks I'm about to do. It wouldn't be the first time we've done it while he watches TV and pretends not to notice what I do to his dangly bits.

'No, silly,' I mutter into Mark's ear, the wet one that I was just licking. 'Not that. Well, not yet.'

Mark raises one eyebrow as his way of showing surprise that I don't want into his jeans. But I get his attention and he takes his eyes off Seventh Heaven and Simon Camden and turns them on me. I half roll on top of him to prevent him seeing the TV and ignoring me. His arms come round me and he gives me a proper hug, which is what I wanted, even if it has only been five minutes that we were apart, the five minutes I spent in my house while Mark went on to his house. I kiss him and he kisses me back. It's not a tonsil-diving kiss, but a friendly tongue-wrestle.

'What do you want me to show you?' he says after we break for air. As he says this he tugs my zip down, just to show what's on his mind.

'Show me your permit,' I say, knocking his hand off my jeans, but only after he gets the zip entirely down.

'Oh, that,' he grins at me. By now he lies flat on his back and I'm over him, up on my outstretched arms, looking down.

The summer just gone we both turned sixteen. That's a special event in a boy's life and you know it too. Used to be there was a special sweet sixteen party to celebrate the event, with cake and music and dancing. And a bit of snogging in the dark corners. But today there's one special thing that happens to a boy when he turns sixteen. No, not that, you evil-minded reader. That happened already years ago for most of us, even for the very shy ones who got to fifteen before they lost it.

Mark took my cherry when we were twelve going thirteen and my nuts got big enough to squirt for the first time. Well, actually my first squirt happened in the shower and Mark wasn't in there with me, sad to say, and it wasn't his hand stroking my woodie, sad to say. But he got my second squirt as we wrestled on my bed, barely half an hour later, after I invited him over to share in my big news. Just like our first kiss with no announcement, one minute I wrestled with him, both of us naked on my bed, and the next minute he knelt over me with my stiffie trapped under his warm bum. He gave me a look I'd never seen before, but I just knew what he wanted, what he offered me. And the next moment I held my stiffie, aiming it upwards, as Mark squatted into position, trying to line things up properly. I felt my red-end touch something very hot and wonderful. Mark pushed down at the same time as I pushed up. I think I shoved a little too hard that first time, for Mark let out an enormous squeal as I bottomed in him in one continuous shove, with no chance for him to stretch and fit me. It felt awesome. It felt too awesome. For in only a moment a huge feeling of pleasure, way bigger than I had just felt in the shower half an hour ago, burst in my belly somewhere. And I grunted as I squirted inside Mark, who looked down at me with eyes of wonder as he felt me swell inside him and fill him up with a strange hot liquid. It was all over in a few seconds.

Needless to say, we got better at it. Way better. Thankfully. But a boy's allowed a first time in total ignorance of what happens. And to bust his nut prematurely.

Mark's nuts matured a couple of weeks later. But it didn't happen for him in the shower that first time. It happened inside me. For ever since that first time we'd taken turns going up each other. He enjoyed it even if at first he couldn't squirt, but had the most enormous shudders in his stiffie as his pleasure peaked. Then, on that special first day for him, he had thrust and pushed into me just as usual but stopped suddenly, which he'd never done before. I felt him swell inside me, against my clutching muscles, which he'd done before as his pleasure hit. But this time he stopped moving, swelled, and squirted. I swear I felt each time his dickie pulsed and squirted. Must have been four or five times. And I felt my insides get wet and hot with his flood. Then I knew what he'd known from me a couple of weeks earlier.

We've done it hundreds of times since, probably thousands. Sometimes four times a day if we get the chance. After all, we're only sixteen and horn-dogs.

The day we each turned sixteen we followed the other to the big event. Just about holding hands, even if we're two excited schoolboys, we went down on the bus. Mothers offered to drive, but boys about to turn men don't want mothers to drive them to the big event. No way, and you know it too.

Took only a half an hour really, once the waiting was over. And we each met the other, waiting patiently outside the exam room, with a grin of triumph on his face. Then we stood in another line to get the real thing. And we left clutching in our excited hands the measure of a man - a learner's driving permit.

'Here, take it out yourself, Tonimus,' Mark says to me. He only calls me Tonimus at special moments, like this. He hoists his bum into the air, reaches into his back pocket, and fishes out his wallet.

I find his permit, living behind his student transit card, and tug it out. There's a picture of a convict on it, a young convict, but a convict just the same. The image is awful, just awful. I know Mark very well, every inch of his excellent body in fact, and that picture ain't Mark. Well it might be Mark if he just got off the island after living rough for six months. Or if he just had a fight with the cat and the cat won. Still, his name and address assure me that it is Mark's driving permit.

'Gawd, what a convict!' I exclaim, opening my eyes wide in mock surprise.

In a moment I find myself flat on my back, with Mark sitting on my hips. And he punches the hell outta my triceps, first the left one then the right one. But his grinning eyes tell me that he's playing, not serious, and just horsing around in the way that only teen boys do. And my grinning eyes tell him that I'm not seriously dissing his picture, that he really doesn't look like a convict, even if it's not the prettiest picture of Mark. We've fought and wrestled for years now, even before we put each other in our hearts, since we were little boys. So I let Mark flail away and whack at my arms with his soft fists, twisting my body but not really trying to get out of his clutch. Mark is actually smaller than me, shorter and thinner and much lighter. So we both know I can easily overpower him anytime.

'Convict yourself,' he growls at me. 'Let's see yours. Show me!'

'Ya gotta get it yourself,' I challenge him. Sixteen year old boys can be so competitive, even over the silliest things, usually over the silliest things. Like who's drivers permit has the ugliest photo.

Mark has to stop punching my arms so he can try to yank my wallet out of my back pocket. And I'm lying on top of it, protecting it from easy access. Mark tries to lift my bum off the carpet so he can fish out my wallet. I wriggle my hips as a defence.

Then I get my revenge for him punching my arms full of pain. Very swiftly, so he can't counter my move, I slip my right hand into his open zip. I feel his boner pushing out the front of his tighty-whities. But that's an old friend and I ignore it. I reach under and find his nuts. Mark finally clues in to what I'm doing. But it's too late. I grasp his nuts in my fingers through the cotton of his tighty-whities. Not too hard, mind you, but firmly enough to let him know I got a good grip.

'Uncle?' I question him, but smile as I say this.

He hesitates for a moment. But only a moment, for who can seriously fight on when his opponent got his danglers in a firm grip? 'Uncle,' he answers, defeat showing in his eyes. We don't keep score among pals, but a guy still hates to lose.

He bends forward and relaxes his hands, so they no longer try to get at my back pocket. I suppose he's going to kiss me. But he's crafty and then he gets me. In a flash, as I relax my grip on his nuts and get ready to pull my hand out of his jeans, he slips one hand into my open zip. And grabs me. Rather hard, too. I yelp with the sharp pain as his fingers close round my nuts. Then I squeeze my fingers back round his danglers and return the pinch. He yelps with the pain. Of course we're way too good pals to ever hurt the other, especially not down there, where a real injury might mean two days without any fun.

'Mexican stand-off!' Mark declares, his fist just as firm on my danglers as my fist is on his.

I lift my head off the carpet towards Mark's head. And he bends down to meet me. The battle is over. For now. We kiss the kiss of peace. Or the kiss of whatever. But we kiss. And we don't let go of the other's danglers while we kiss. But now the threat of pain and suffering turns to joy as fingers no longer crush delicate bits but cuddle them. Mark slides down so he lies half on me, half on the carpet. But we're joined at the lips and by our cradling hands inside each other's jeans. It doesn't get much better than this, first a quick wrestle then a kiss and cuddle with your best pal. And probably pretty soon a good rub and tug.

I reach into my back pocket and fish out my wallet. I wave it at Mark to get his attention. He stops cuddling my balls and finds my drivers permit. Then we lie side by side, heads pressed together, holding up the other's permit for viewing. But we keep one hand cuddling the other's balls. I throw one leg over Mark's leg and run my socked foot up and down the jeans covering his leg. He likes when I do that.

'Bunch of convicts really, aren't we, Tony,' Mark giggles.

'Totally, dude,' I giggle back.

And it's true, for my picture is just as ugly as his. Those digital cameras down at the department of motor vehicles have a lot to answer for.

Behind us the TV continues to show pretty Simon Camden. But we ignore him totally now. David's really older than both of us, but we grow up watching him on endless re-runs of Seventh Heaven. And to our minds, he's forever twelve.

I giggle at Mark and he giggles back at me. Then he does what I hope he'll do. He drops my licence onto the carpet and turns towards me. I drop his licence too. Our hands are still inside each other's jeans. And Mark opens his mouth, inviting me to kiss.

THE END