Mike and I stayed jerk off buddies, messing around and playing our games, for at the most eighteen months. It probably was a month or two less. Our relationship ended because just before he turned sixteen, Mike’s family moved away. But even before that our sessions were winding down. We were seeing less of each other because we plain ran out of new games and our jerk off sessions got boring. I mean, really, how many times can you hogtie and gag a naked guy? Once should be enough, don’t you think?
Another reason was both of our parents started to get really suspicious that we were doing something illegal, immoral or dangerous together. Or maybe they knew. When they questioned us about what we were doing, they always asked about drugs, which curiously was one vice we didn’t do. The never quizzed either of us about having sex, or even hinted at it, and after Mike moved the subject was dropped so I never found out what mine had learned or suspected. Being concerned parents, they knew enough to tighten the leash. Our parents started calling each other, checking up on our alibis. That evening we spent together in his fold-out bed, humping for the first time? I lied to my parents, telling them Mike’s folks would be home and it was OK with them for me to spend the night. Toward the end, our folks would have sniffed out a lie like that immediately. They also instituted a rule that we couldn’t be together unless a parent was around so if I said I was going to Mike’s, my mom would call his house first to make sure his mother was there. During our last few months, it got very difficult for Mike and me to spend extended unsupervised time together. It was then we both ditched school one day to mess around. We got away with that one, too. On other days we still had the avocado tree. We’d go under it when my mother was home, keeping an eye on us. She never got wise to that.
While writing this I have wondered, will anybody will believe this story? Could two teenagers in 1960s white bread America have been so horny, so into jacking, so risk taking, so stupid, and frankly, so into cum? The answer is yes, this is what happened. This is my life. Mike, and his name really is Mike, and I did all this stuff. Look at it from my perspective. When I was thirteen, I had a best buddy who would accept, fulfill and even expand most any sexual fantasy I could come up with, and the same was true for him. Wouldn’t you have gone there? Wouldn’t you, too, have explored that side of yourself? If you could have been this sexually active when you were thirteen and fourteen, wouldn’t you have been, too?
Our young ages completely colored Mike’s and my sex. You can say the sexual fantasies we acted out were juvenile. Guess what? We were juveniles. Our striping games, domination play, bondage, public nudity, excessive masturbation and fetish for semen are exactly what you’d expect from thirteen to fifteen year old boys. OK, maybe not the semen. But we didn’t just play juvenile games. Mike and I weren’t there only for the cum shots. Our relationship was much deeper. We were into each other. There was an intimacy underlying our domination games. Our needs and desires were definitely being considered. I cared for Mike and he cared for me. We cut each other a lot of slack to let the other boy express himself sexually. We had incredible trust in each other, the only relationship I’ve ever had where that trust was never broken. For as long as it lasted, we were a good pair. My first sexual relationship was a successful one. We allowed each other full and free expression of our sexual desires, supported each other in fulfilling those desires, and gave the other boy room for personal growth. We even knew when the other guy needed a hug. Not too bad for a couple of young teenagers.
One day when I was a senior in high school, Mike rang the doorbell to my house. He’d been gone from town for years but was back for a visit. We ended up in the backyard, catching up. Now living in Arizona, he was in college. Mike said he was no longer a virgin and had a steady girlfriend. I believed him but told him I was still one. At that point, I’d only had a few dates with girls. Besides being older, Mike was always more aggressive than me. We sat on my old swing set next to the avocado tree. I asked Mike if he remembered what we’d done under its branches. He said of course he did. We laughed about a few of our times together, the crazy ones, including our mad, nude dash out of the house to avoid being caught by my mom, his hogtying me and the Boner Run, and agreed we were stupider than slugs back then. I told him I now knew the correct mechanics for a blow job. Did he want to go under the avocado tree for old time’s sake and have one more afternoon of fun? Mike said no. I was OK with that. He soon left. Really, without the sex, once we’d made sure each other was fine, there was nothing there. Still, part of me wishes he’d said, “Sure, let’s mess around.” It would have fit the let’s-try-something-new attitude of our best times together. We would have had to play a game of HORSE to see who would have to strip and give the first blow job, and I would have made sure the blow jobs went both ways, with each required to give and receive. I’m also certain we would have made each other swallow. Surely Mike would have insisted I finally eat his spunk.
I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. As a writer, it's nice to know that at least with you, I hit a home run to end Messing Around With Mike. I liked being dominated by Mike, too. 
