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Never sleep three to a bed!
Here's why. It's July again and we all meet at my uncle's place on Lake Winnipesaukee. There's
lots of cousins and friends who get treated like cousins. But this is really about me and Connor. Hi, I'm Tony. Connor and I are almost twins. Well, we act like twins when we spend time together,
which is only once a year when we spend two weeks living in each other's pockets at Uncle Paulie's summer place. The rest of the year we hardly see each other. But it doesn't matter. For
since we were ankle-biters we get together every summer and when we see the other it's just like we only parted a week ago, not a year ago. Things just take off from where we left 'em last
summer. Connor and I message each other on MSN, but it's not the same as seeing the other.
Now both Connor and I are thirteen. You probably think that I'm some sort of pervert or something
because I think about sex all the time. Well, I do. Think about sex a lot. I used to feel bad about it, but Uncle Paulie told me it's normal for a kid my age. And Connor thinks about it just as much as I
do. Sometimes he thinks about it during the few minutes I don't. And sometimes I think about it at a time when he doesn't. But, best of all, are the times when we both think about it at the same
time.
But this summer there's Tom. He's a new cousin, or some-such relative. One of our older aunts got re-married and Tom comes along with her wedding presents. Instant half-cousin, if
there's such a thing. Tom's twelve and won't be thirteen 'til early next year. That puts him well behind us in size and weight. Trouble is all the other ball-bearings are ankle-biters
still. So Uncle Paulie puts Tom in with us. So we'll get to know the new cousin, he tells us.
That's how we end up three to a bed. Connor and I have shared a room forever. Just the two of
us in a queen-sized bed that takes up most of our room. No space for another bed. The other rooms are full of girl cousins, the ankle-biters with and without balls, uncles and aunts, and Uncle Paulie.
There's lots of space for a third boy in our bed, so that's not really the problem. Unless he kicks too much in his sleep. But there's something very special that Connor and I do in bed. And
that's where we have the problem.
'Hey, Tony,' Connor whispers in my ear right after Uncle Paulie introduces Tom. 'How we gonna do it? How we gonna do it, man, with Tom
around?'
'Dunno, and shush,' I respond, glaring at Connor.
'I'm so looking forward to doing it with you,' Connor whispers his complaint.
Tom smiles at us, a
really friendly smile. Sometimes Connor is really immature. I do the mature thing and punch him in the arm. He finally shuts up. I keep looking at Tom. He's rather cute. Long, curly hair that's
in fashion this summer. Last year Connor and I had buzz cuts. But this summer we've both got long hair with coloured streaks in it. I guess Tom's too young yet to colour his hair, or his new mom
won't let him. He's not too thin, but certainly there's no muscles. He's got a tiny bit of a belly that is probably the last of his baby fat. Can't see what's under his clothes,
but from what I can see of his exposed skin, that's sure to look pretty good.
'We'll just have to do what we can do,' I whisper back to Connor, ending our private conversation
before Tom feels insulted and left out.
Connor and I are probably the only two boys in the world who do what we do. There's no way I can find out if other boys do it too. Asking would spill
the beans and then Tony would have to leave town, but only after they beat him up. Connor, too. What we do is something special to us. Not that we do it all the time. But some time during a night, or
three and four times, maybe five and six, one of us reaches for the other's dickie. In only a second the favour is returned. Then the two of us rub and tug on the other's rapidly inflating dickie
until we stiffen then pop our nuts. Sometimes one pops before the other. Doesn't matter, the first one keeps his fingers going until the second one gasps and shivers to announce that he's there.
Sometimes we both pop together, and we both grunt and shiver at the same time so we don't notice the other one for a few minutes until our minds cool off. Then we easily drop off to sleep, often
still holding the other's softie. For this shared jack is way, way better than doing it all by yourself.
An hour or two later one wakes up and reaches for his friend. I can't count the
number of times I pleasantly awake in the night to feel Connor's warm fingers on my dickie. Or he gently rolls one of my balls in his fingers. Nicest way to wake up. Then I reach for him. And in an
instant we are both stiff and ready to play again. Coupla minutes of mutual fun and we doze off again, often cuddled into each other. Only to sleep for a few hours and do it all over again.
First
thing most mornings we do a special one, with our stiffies almost bursting from the pressure of our morning pee. Feels very different to pop a nut with a full bladder. We usually take our time and do
this one slowly. But sometimes the pressure to pee is too uncomfortable to enjoy rubs and tugs. Then we fly out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom, and stand side by side at the toilet. It's
difficult to pee with a pee-stiffie until the first few drops come out and it softens. Then we empty our grateful bladders and race back to bed. By then we have softies, but it only takes a quick rub to
fix that.
'Want to go swimming, Tom?' I offer our guest and new friend. For Tom seems like a good boy to play all those outdoor things we enjoy by the lake. We dash out of the house,
wearing just our swimsuits, across the patch of grass that separates the house from the sand. Tom runs in front of me and I see his tiny bum move under his baggy swimsuit as his white legs flash
underneath. Above, the bones on his spine move under the white skin as he runs. Tom needs some of our strong New Hampshire sun to tan his pale body. A couple of days running in the sun will fix
that.
The three of us whoop it up in the water. It's shockingly cold after the warm sun, but we don't mind it. I know my dickie goes minature from the cold water. And my balls go inside
for safety and warmth. The same happens for Connor. Years ago we used to laugh at each other when the cold water shrunk our dangly bits until they were almost invisble. Now we've both got larger
dangly bits, but they still shrink in the cold water. I'm sure even yours do, too. Then Tom comes out of the water and stands on the sand. His wet swimsuit clings to his skinny body and drips water
all down his legs. I look at his bulgie and see that something is there. Despite the dick-shrinking cold, there's a bulgie under the wet fabric.
The rest of our first day at Uncle Paulie's
passes rapidly, as it always does, in fun and games that we haven't enjoyed since a year ago. There's tons to do and time passes quickly. Then bedtime arrives. Three tired boys get sent to bed,
only protesting mildly that it's too early yet. Connor and I usually sleep naked, since our ankle-biter days. But tonight, since Tom is with us, we wear boxers to bed. Tom watches us change for bed
and puts on his own pair of boxers. We've only just met today for the first time, and Tony's not brave enough to ask his new cousin to sleep nude.
We pile into bed and somehow Tom ends up
in the middle. I grin at Connor who doesn't grin back. For he's upset that he's not beside me. Connor seems unusually horny tonight. Must be something to do with the special messages we
exchanged over the winter. Happened to me first and I messaged Connor: "Can squirt now. You?" To which he replied: "Congrats. I keep trying. But still can't." It took a couple
more months and Connor triumphantly messaged me: "Yaaa! Squirted this morning." So this summer we meet as two boys who can now squirt, something we haven't done before. Further messages
promised what we'd do our first night. But, we didn't know about Tom. And sleeping three to a bed.
I've squirted lots since my first time. Told Connor about it on MSN and heard his
news when he did it. But I haven't done it with another boy. I haven't had another boy pump on my stiffie until the pleasure got so big that my nut pops and I squirt all over his hand and my
belly. I haven't held another boy's stiffie in my hand and pumped him until he squirts all over my hand and his belly. So I'm just as horny as Connor tonight. We both look forward to our
first time with another.
Now we've done it together on MSN. Here's how. We make sure our bedroom doors are shut tight. Then we take out our dangly bits and sit in front of the computers.
One of us messages: "Ready." Then we both start to jack, each in our own house miles away but connected on MSN. First one to bust a nut hits the keyboard. Any key does it, for who can
concentrate on a letter when he's busting a nut? He just bangs on the keyboard. The sudden appearance of a "Q" or "G" in the MSN window tells the other that his pal has popped his
nut. That encourages him to speed up the stroke and get on with it. Then he bangs out a single letter, "X" or "P", hit at random with one hand, while his other finishes off his
woodie, and announces that he too busts a nut. It's quite exciting. You should try it with your pal. But we know, just know, it will be better lying together in bed, dick to dick.
I almost
doze off with Tom's body warm against me. He's on his side and faces me. He seems to be asleep and not moving or kicking about much. Then I feel a familiar warm hand on my dickie. It's gotta
be Connor, who's also awake and waits for Tom to fall totally asleep. In an instant my woodie's up. After all, it's been a year since it last got such a visitor. I reach across Tom's hip
and grope for Lil Connor inside his boxers. I find him and lock my fingers on my old, familiar friend. I find my favourite spot just below his pee-slit and rub it. He's already half-stiff and in an
instant he's fully hard. We both have papooses and we know what to do with them. I slide his back to bare his red-end and he does the same to me. No need to look. We can do it under the blanket all
by touch. Even though we like to look at each other's woodie when we play with each other and tonight we can't.
We rub and tug on each other, in movements so familiar and so pleasant. A
long year's absence vanishes in a happy moment. It feels so good. Doesn't take too long. Never does when you're thirteen and new to squirting. Doesn't take too long when you haven't
done it with your pal for eleven months. I hear him gasp as softly as he can, afraid to wake Tom, and feel his stiffie throb in my grip as Connor's nut pops. I moan softly too and bust my nut. I
squirt all over my belly, for both of us lie on our backs with Tom between us. Sure hope none of my squirt goes on Tom. How to explain dried stuff on him in the morning? Connor squirts on his belly, too.
And we lie quietly enjoying the afterglow of our first time squirting together.
'That was great,' Connor murmurs from across the sleeping Tom. He holds my hand on his wet, slimy softie
with his own hand. His other hand still grasps my wet, slimy softie and I hold his hand there with my other hand. I'm a happy camper.
'The greatest,' I whisper back.
'Hey.
Let's peek at Tom,' Connor proposes.
I think he's quite crazy. And Tom will wake up, squeal, and get us in big trouble. But brave Connor pulls back the blanket that the three of us
share. He leans over Tom's hip so he can see Tom's front, which faces me. I do my part and tug down the front of Tom's boxers. The moon's up and we can dimly see inside our room. But we
see Tom's dickie, totally soft, hanging down over his hip. His bag nestles between his pressed-together thighs. And his softie is big. Bigger than mine. Bigger than Connor's. I check this out
with my eyes, comparing our three softies by moonlight. Tom has no papoose, just a shred behind his bare red-end. There's a huge flare to his red-end, very mushroom-like. I wonder how big his stiffie
might be.
'Wooo,' Connor whispers. 'He's kinda big. Isn't he?'
'Yeah,' I mutter in jealousy. 'But at least his nuts aren't as big as
ours.'
Brave Connor gently lifts Tom's thigh and frees his bag. We look and confirm that Tom's nuts are tiny, baby nuts. He's twelve, and his nuts aren't big like
ours.
'And, he doesn't have any fuzzies,' Connor whispers. 'Not a hair to spoil the view.'
We try doing it again in the middle of the night. I reach for Connor first,
this time. And we start to jack the other. It starts to feel good. Then Tom suddenly rolls over, flings an arm over me, and mutters something. Is he asleep? Or not? I let go Connor's stiffie in alarm
and he lets go of mine. The pleasure that had built in my nuts rapidly fades away, leaving me frustrated and unhappy. Hitting pause at a bad time isn't a good idea. I'm sure Connor is just as
disappointed. But we can't take the chance of discovery of our secret habit. Eventually we fall back asleep, still on pause, without busting a nut.
Next morning, I awake and find Tom looking
into my eyes. He's awake before me. His grin is very friendly. We lie quietly and wait for Connor to wake up. I know I have a pee-stiffie and Connor probably has one too. We bound out of bed and I
see that Tom has one too, poking out the front of his boxers. He runs for the bathroom first and he doesn't see the dried white spots on Connor and my bellies.
Tom sticks to us like glue for
most of the day. But I manage to catch up to Connor alone in the water. Tom climbed out early, for the water is cold today, and lies on the grass warming himself in the sun. Connor and I stay in for a
few private moments. I nestle Connor into my front, as we've done for years now. His bum is warm on my belly. We are neck-deep in water and I slip my hand under the waist of his swimsuit. I yank his
swimsuit down around his knees. He yanks down my suit and in a moment we each grasp the other's woodie. We know how to do this in public. We appear to wrestle and horse around in the water, while
secretly rubbing and tugging on each other under the water. No one's ever caught on to the naughty things we do in the lake. I'm very horny for it's been over twelve hours since Connor popped
my nut last night. So Connor's hand feels very good on my underwater woodie. I turn to face him as my big moment occurs, for we know how nice it is to look in the other's eyes as we bust a nut. I
see that special glint in his eyes that I haven't seen for a year now, that tells me he's just as close as I am to busting a nut. A couple of good strokes and we squirt. We even get to hug the
other as we squirt, pretending to horse around as Tom grins at us from the shore. It's way, way better than last night in bed with Tom between us. I like squirting underwater now.
'Thanks,
Tonimus,' Connor says. 'I needed that.' He only calls me Tonimus at special moments like this.
'I needed it, too,' I grin back at Connor. 'But I still want to do it with
you in bed. It's way too cold in the water.' And it is cold. For in an instant after squirting my dickie shrinks from a full woodie, to my normal softie, and into a tiny, cold-shrunken bud.
Connor's too, I'm sure. For we have long laughed at each other's shrunken buds after swimming in the chilly lake. And my balls, I'm sure, are deep inside me trying to keep warm and have
long evacuated my frozen bag.
We drag our frozen bodies out of the water and flop on the grass beside Tom so the sun can thaw us out. Tom's like a a friendly puppy. A happy soul who's
always ready to play. He's an only child and I feel sorry for him, even as he puts the damper on Connor's and my special fun. But apart from that, he's a good playmate. Really the only thing
I can be jealous about Tom is his softie being larger than mine.
Uncle Paulie bought this land by Lake Winnipesaukee from an old man named Keith. We call him old but he must be fifty. He lives
next door still. Keith had been to a camp, which stood on the same land, years ago. Both as a boy camper and later as a counsellor. The camp had closed down and Keith bought a big piece of the land by
the lake where he'd been so happy for so many years. Later he sold Uncle Paulie a part of his land, and Uncle Paulie put up his own cottage by the water. I think Uncle Paulie also went to this camp.
We see Keith often, for we are very welcome on his property. He always has a kind word for Connor and me. And we like the attention he pays to us. He's even kind to the ankle-biters. He sits by the
lake most days and seems very happy to see boys playing on the lawn, or in the water. Must be his old memories.
So that's how it goes. Nights just one quickkie, maybe two, never three, sneaked
in when we figure Tom's asleep. A coupla times he frightens us by snorting loudly and throwing an arm or leg over us while we jack the other off. We quit in alarm and hastily tuck the other's
woodie inside his boxers else Tom wakes suddenly and catches us at it. That's quite terrible, for you know that to stop at a bad time can kill a guy. Once Connor is almost busting his nut when I stop
as Tom throws his leg over my rapidly moving arm. Connor probably only needs one more stroke from my fingers. And a couple of minutes later I hear Connor quietly whimper and know that he ends his
frustration by using his own hand to pop his nut.
Morning jacks are totally out of the question, too. Seems Tom wakes before either of us every morning. He never wakes us but lies quietly in the
bed and waits for one of us to waken. And he never says anything when he sees our morning woodies, for he usually has one too. This one is most frustrating, for I really enjoy the morning jacks we do
every summer. Slow and long jacks, taking our time to enjoy things, and stopping every now and then to just rub balls while things cool down, then going back to rubs and tugs. And, talking to each other
while we do it. Saying when to slow down, when to speed up, and which new move feels great.
We do it in the water when we can, despite the chilly conditions. But these are also quickkies, pleasant
enough and quite fun, but not the best fun. At least out in the water we get to grunt and gasp as loudly as we are used to instead of the muffled groans we use in bed so Tom doesn't wake up. And we
can heave and thrust our hips into the other's sliding fingers as much as we want to without disturbing Tom.
The other big thing we give up on is looking while we jack. We used to enjoy
looking at the other's woodie as it slid back and forth in our grasp, turning redder and redder as his big moment got closer. And we enjoyed looking at our own woodie as it slid back and forth in the
other's grasp, turning redder and redder as our big moment got closer. We'd look, too, into each other's eyes as the big moment happened and see the special flash there that only happens when
you pop your nut. Worst of all, we've not seen the other's woodie squirt. For this is our first summer that we squirt and we want to see the magic moment as the stiffie squirts. We know what our
own squirt looks like and we want to see what the other's looks like. Up close. Instead we squirt under the blanket in bed, or under water in the lake, but we don't get to see the big
event.
It's all quite frustrating. For Connor and I are both ever horny, as all thirteen-year olds are. And we only have these two weeks to enjoy our newly-maturing dangly bits. Last year it
was all dry comes, but lots and lots of them. And privacy enough to squeal and snort as much as we want at the big moments. Privacy enough, too, to watch the action of our flying fingers and swelling
red-ends. This year we have better comes but fewer of them. Far fewer. And always out of view.
But we do have other fun. Lots. For Tom is an excellent playpal, ever ready to join in whatever we
propose. We swim out to a little island a bit off-shore from Uncle Paulie's place, or canoe out to it. The ankle-biters can't follow us there, so it's our little refuge. And we play pretend
games on our little island, being one day on a tropic island, the next on an arctic ice floe. Or we take a canoe along the shore of the lake, visting all the little coves and beaches we know so well. We
might be a pirate ship. We might be a Roman galley. Keith watches us go and come, sitting under a tree right by the water's edge at his place. I wonder if he'd join us if we invite
him?
Connor does another crazy thing one night. After we bust each other's nut and settle down, he pulls Tom's boxers down. He doesn't say anything but lies with his face close by
Tom's dangly bits. He doesn't have to say anything, for I know what he does. I've done it too, but only with Connor. Tom's softie lies cradled on his little bag, almost hiding it, for his
softie is so much bigger than his BB-sized nuts. Then I see Tom's softie start to inflate. It gives a little jerk, swells slightly, and starts to lift into the air. Connor sees it too and points to
it with his finger, but he doesn't touch it. It swells a little more and starts to get hard. Now it's almost at right angles to Tom's smooth belly. The mushroom head is very large now. His
tiny balls start to wriggle inside their bag. Then his woodie fully develops and lies flat along his belly, pointing right at his belly-button. Tom gives one of his now-familiar moans and straightens his
legs. I hope he won't wake up! We enjoy the sight. I figure Tom's stiffie is not any longer than mine. It's just his softie is bigger, but doesn't grow too much. Then as we watch his
stiffie starts to go down. And in another minute it's back to a softie. I've seen this happen to Connor lots. For if you watch a boy long enough you're bound to see him pop a woodie. I like
watching it go up and down. I wonder if Connor does this to me while I sleep.
One day we get a complete surprise. Tom tells us he's leaving later today. His family have to get back to Boston
and fly out to Chicago. I thought they were staying the full two weeks, like everyone else. But no one had really said they were leaving early. I'm gonna miss my new cousin, for he's good
company. I bet Connor will miss him too. We enjoy our last few hours together and it's time to say goodbyes.
'But next summer, he's gotta do a sleeping bag,' is Connor's pithy
comment. 'No more sleeping three to a bed.'
After Tom's family leaves we settle down for the rest of the day. I celebrate our new privacy by bringing Connor out to the little island.
There's a little sandy hollow where we often suntan naked, hidden from view by the banks of the hollow. It's just big enough to fit two boys side by side. We yank off our swimsuits without saying
anything. I drop on my back on the warm, dry sand and Connor thuds into the sand beside me. Fingers find what they need and we get it on. Doesn't take too long, for we didn't do anything last
night and our last time was in the water after supper. We do the usual and this time there's a couple of new wet spots on the sand as two happy boys lie in the sun. It's our first squirt on a
beach.
Uncle Paulie does a big bonfire after supper. It's one of the summer traditions. Keith comes over to join us and everyone sits on the sand around the fire. Usually the party goes on
until the fire dies down and the ankle-biters are dragged protesting off to bed. Then the adults get out the beer and continue by moonlight. I sit beside Connor, as I've done for every bonfire on
this beach. His warm body is so familiar pressing against mine, leg to leg, side to side. I throw one arm round his shoulders and he nestles into me. Seems we've done this forever. Connor blows
noisily into my ear and I automatically raise my shoulder to push him away. Then I figure what he says and tighten my arm round his shoulder instead.
He stands up and loudly exclaims to anyone who
bothers to listen: 'Tony and I are going in to bed now.'
Connor reaches down and pulls me up by my hand. I see that familiar gleam in his eyes, which is not just the firelight reflected in
them. Tony's gonna get happy real soon. We walk off into the darkness. And when he sees we're in the dark, Connor slips his hand into mine. My dickie pops up. Hand in hand we head for the house.
And bed.
And Keith and Uncle Paulie must wonder why both of us are strangely eager to leave the excellent bonfire and go up to bed.
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