What to do? I was a bit stumped; Paul was taking control again, and dragging me into risky situations, sexy as hell though it undoubtedly was. I thought long and hard about what to do about it, the sex was too good to give up. I would have to think of a task for our next photo session that would give him the danger and excitement that he craved, without our being found out, I hoped.
A couple of weeks later, on a lovely summer afternoon, I had decided to walk home by way of the park next to my school, a route that took me close to Paul's house, coincidentally, but, more truthfully, it was a chance to get away from the traffic. As I wandered across the grass I noticed all the houses with their gardens backing onto the park seemed to have their washing out, on a breezy and sunny day this was perfectly normal. Suddenly I had an idea, I could give Paul a challenge, organise a photo session, and get shagged into the bargain. It was beautifully simple; I'd get him to steal the undies that he would wear for the photos from one of the gardens backing onto the park and we could meet in the middle of the green that night after he had done the deed and have al fresco sex under the stars. We'd have to do the pics later, a camera flash in the middle of the park would be certain to attract attention of an unwelcome kind.
I rang him that evening, "You up for a challenge?"
"Of course, what is it?"
"You have to meet me in the middle of the football pitch in Pitt Park at 11.00 on Wednesday night, wearing a pair of pants that you have just nicked from the washing line in one of the gardens that back onto the park. We'll do the photos next day,"
"So, what else are we going to do?" he interrupted.
"Oh, just use your imagination," I replied.
"Ok, you're on, I'll see you then."
Although the park was locked up at dusk every evening, this presented little challenge to anyone who could climb a little. There were certain areas which were notable petting places, mostly down by the duck pond, which on a warm night would be discreetly populated by snogging couples. I had arranged to meet Paul well away from the action, out in the open space in the middle of the park. It was a glorious summer night when I climbed over the wall and dropped down into the shrubbery, the sky was pretty clear, a few rather half-hearted clouds covering and uncovering the crescent moon, and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves in the bushes. I made my way out into the centre, and laid out the travel rug that I had thoughtfully brought with me. I was early for my date, I'd told my family that I was going to a late night showing at the pictures, and wouldn't be back until gone midnight, but this had meant that I had left the house much earlier than I needed to. Settling down comfortably on the rug, I opened a bottle of beer, and sipped meditatively, listening to the night time sounds of suburban London. On a clear night you can hear a lot if you just stop and listen; the ever present rumble of traffic, the distant hooting and clanking of the tube system, and the domestic sounds of people living their lives and preparing to go to bed.
The local borough had recently instituted a sort of morality patrol, as a response to complaints about the activity down by the duck pond. This consisted of a couple of elderly men, who, around about chucking out time from the pubs (which in those days was 10.30), would walk slowly round the problem area, flashing a torch into the bushes, and evicting anybody who was slow enough or stupid enough to get caught. So, anticipating the entertainment, I rolled over onto my front, and watched the distant flickers of light, as the two park keepers made their half-hearted investigations. I heard the sound of running feet, and two giggling bodies passed within about 20 feet of my nest, crashing through the bushes and out over the wall into the street. That momentary excitement was about it, and I heard the parkies make their way out of the park, locking the big old cast iron gates behind them.
I wondered when Paul was going to make his move, and began to get turned on by the thought of him creeping through someone's garden and going through the washing. All I was wearing a t-shirt and some loose summer shorts over a pair of thin cotton briefs, it almost felt as if I was naked, lying there under the stars, and stretching luxuriously I meditatively stroked at my erection through the thin layers of fabric. I didn't have to wait long for the next event in the drama to unfold, as the distant sound of a dog barking hysterically, heralded Paul's thieving attempts. I don't think it went quite according to plan, as I heard the distant sound of breaking glass, and lights came on in one of the houses. A little muffled shouting, and after a couple of minutes it all went quiet again. I was so relaxed, lying there, eyes shut, and my hand on my crotch that I was caught by Paul. The first I was aware of him was when a hand crept up the leg of my shorts, and started to caress my balls; "Glad to feel you're ready and waiting," said Paul out of the gloom down by my feet. He had crawled up to me, so quietly that I was taken by surprise. I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him, from where I was it wasn't clear what he was wearing, except that is was obvious that he wasn't wearing very much.
"Go on," I said, "give us a twirl." He stood up, his pale skin glistening in the moonlight, and after a startled moment, I began to laugh. Paul had a slim waist and hips, even though his butt was cute and curvy, he was wearing a pair of briefs that were at least three sizes too big, if not more so.
He pulled them up, wiggling his hips as he did so; "What do you think? Sexy or what?" Turning his back on me, he pulled up on the waistband and gave himself a wedgie, pushing his butt into my face. Still laughing, I patted his naked flesh, and then ran my hand through between his thighs, one thing about big pants; they do make it easy to get your hands on the goods.
"Was that all you could find?" I asked, keeping a hold on his cock.
"Well you see, I was making my way across the garden, when I fell over a table covered in beer glasses. Having alerted the whole household and their dog, I grabbed the first pair of pants I could see, and legged it over the wall. It could have been so much worse, there were some big floral knickers hanging next to them."
"Ah," I said, "that would explain the breaking glass then, pity you didn't get the floral numbers, that could have been quite sexy."
"You mean you don't think these are sexy?" he said, pretending to be disappointed.
"You can feel how sexy I think they are," I answered, pulling him down, and putting his hand onto my erection. He settled down on the rug next to me, and took a drink from my beer bottle. We lay side by side under the moonlight, slowly and gently caressing each other's cocks, enjoying the moment.
Time passed slowly, and we didn't feel any urge to rush things, but eventually Paul sat up and carefully undid my shorts, pulling them free and throwing them off into the darkness. He climbed over and straddled my crotch facing me, his balls, hanging free in the baggy material of his stolen pants, rubbed loosely over my erect penis. He hauled me upright, pulled my t-shirt off over my head, and threw it after my shorts, "There, " he said, satisfied, "that's better, we're all equal now."
"Not quite," I said, "I imagine you know where you've left your clothes, I might be crawling round here all night trying to find mine."
"Hush," he said, and shuffled up until he was sitting on my chest, I found myself confronted with his cock, still wrapped up in his big knickers. Putting up a hand, I pulled the material to one side, allowing his cock to spring free; I grabbed it, feeding its hot length into my eager mouth. "Wait a bit," he said, "this is supposed to be your special moment."
I wasn't able to reply, just grabbed his cheeks with both hands, as he tried to pull away from me. I grabbed onto the fabric of his pants as he disengaged from my mouth, but they were so big that he was able to get right away, as they stretched out between us. Laughing, he stepped out of them, and stood over me, his cock silhouetted against the summer sky. He stood still for a few moments, looking down at me, and absently stroking his prick as he did so.
At last, he knelt down beside me, and began to kiss my skin, paying special attention to the extremely sensitive area between my belly button and the waistband of my pants. At the same time, I felt his hand slowly sliding up my thigh, and coming to rest on my cock, as it tented out the soft cotton of my briefs. "Time to be rid of these, I think," he said, and pulled my pants off, hurling them randomly off into the night. He then pulled me upright, and directed me to sit down on his crotch, his cock projecting out stiffly from between my thighs. For a few minutes he squeezed both our cocks together, rolling his hips to accentuate the sensation, before he rolled over with a groan, and went down on me. Previously Paul had tended to be a bit aggressive when he had my cock in his mouth, this time he was very gentle and careful, tonguing at my glans as he slowly bobbed up and down, I reached through his legs and grabbed hold of his prick, keeping a firm hold as he moved over my crotch.
There was something special about lying out under the stars being blown by someone who had obviously been thinking about his technique, I was determined to hold out as long as I could, but the warm breeze on my naked body, the warmth of his body leaning over me and the solid strength of his cock in my hand was beginning to get to me. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears as I moved into the last phase of my orgasm, I've never been noisy when I come, instead I lock up, my whole body spasming (hence the nickname) and this was a big one. I think the fact that I went into my orgasm holding firmly onto Paul's prick had a very interesting effect, as, when I settled back, having spunked my load into his throat, his back stiffened up, and he said urgently; "Don't stop." I realised that he was on the edge, and relaxed my grip, just to prolong the moment of orgasm as much as possible. He groaned in disappointment, then, I grabbed tight hold again and swiftly massaged his cock until, at the moment of coming, he fell over backwards, spraying his come into the sky and all over us both.
We had to pause there, just to get our breath back, and sat still, our body's naked thigh pressing against naked thigh on the rug, each sucking on a beer. With the enthusiasm of the young, Paul pulled me up to my feet and dragged me off on a weird journey round the park. Naked as jay birds, we ran across the grass, and from our vantage point in the bushes we watched people going about their lives; making tea, talking on the phone and so on. As we came up closer to the houses we could hear speech, arguments and the sounds of the TV through the open windows. Paul clearly found this very exciting, as did I, and a groping hand on my cock soon had me rising to the occasion. I put out a hand to check, and he, of course, was rock hard and ready to go. "Let's go and see what's happening over by the duck pond," he whispered, before dragging me off across the grass again. There was a sort of bridge, overlooking the grassy banks on which the couples tended to congregate, and we crept up towards the parapet, conscious that we would be silhouetted against the dark trees behind us.
We were in luck, about ten yards away, and five feet below us, a couple were making out, passionately snogging and quite a lot of curious hand movement filled us with fascination, we crept forward, leaning forward over the parapet, our buttocks wiggling as we inched forward. After a moment or two, I felt his hand gently running over my butt cheeks, and was pleased to reciprocate, it was always a pleasure to feel his butt. After a short interval, his hand ran from the base of my spine, down over my crack and round to the shaft of my erect cock. I undertook the same journey, and we slowly massaged each other's pricks as we watched the adventurer's minor league explorations below us.
I've often wondered what the park keepers thought about what they had found, when they crept silently up behind us; two naked teenage boys, legs apart, holding onto each others cocks and all the while staring over a wall at a snogging couple, fortunately we had the advantage of youth, and speed, and when the torches flashes over our bodies, and we heard the shout of "Gotcha, you little perverts," we took off like hares. The snogging couples were treated to the sight of two naked and erect boys, leaping and laughing, being chased by two puffing park keepers waving torches and shouting. Years of school runs round the park meant that we were very familiar with its layout, and that we were finely tuned to the stamina required to circumnavigate it. It became clear that our pursuers weren't going to be able to chase us for long, so we doubled back, and drew our pursuit back onto the snogging couples, before running over to the gates, and rattling them noisily, suggesting, should they choose to accept it, that we had climbed over and run off, naked, into the well lit suburban streets.
Thankfully deductive reasoning is not part of a park keepers training, and we lurked in the bushes, quaking with silent laughter, as they escorted the snogging couples off the premises, speculating noisily about our whereabouts. This time, we watched them leave, and lock the gates behind them, before we moved out from our hiding place. Paul put his arm round my shoulder, and with his other arm, indicated a possible direction; "Shall we?" he asked.
"Why not," I replied, and we made our way down to the grassy bank by the duck pond. As we settled ourselves into the cosy niche, so recently vacated by the objects of our voyeuristic fascination, there was no thought of snogging, Paul had one thing on his mind, and that was my cock. By now we were both quite grubby, having run halfway round the park, hidden in the bushes and both being covered in spunk and sweat. Paul grabbed onto my cock, and at the same time I grabbed onto his, after our exertions we were only semi-erect and I had the glorious feeling of his cock growing hard in my hand as I started to masturbate him. "It's still my turn," Paul said, as we were both getting hard, I wasn't going to argue, especially as he was starting to get to work on my dick.
Paul moved down so his head was beside my groin, and started sucking at my balls, rubbing firmly at my erect cock at the same time, I laid back, unable and unwilling to argue, as he expertly stimulated me. "I'm not going to last very long if you're going to be this good," I said drowsily.
"Good," he said, "I'm just getting my own back."
True to my word, I could feel my spunk welling up in my balls, and I didn't try to stop it, coming in great spurts all over our sweaty bodies, leaving dribbles and tracks in the dirt on our skins.
I was still holding onto Paul's prick, and very deliberately started to jerk him off, he was still stiff, and, using his dick to guide him, I pulled him over so that he was sitting on my chest. I watched his face as I slid my hand up and down on his slippery cock, he looked truly and transcendently happy, much as I felt. I think at that moment we reached the peak of our relationship, we had a genuine affection for each other, our intimacy had gone as far as it could, we knew how to turn each other on and our sex was getting better and better.
It didn't take long for Paul either, and suddenly I felt his body stiffen, his back arch and another dose of spunk spray from his cock, all over my chest and face. I dipped my hands in the sperm, and rubbed the mess all over Paul's body and mine, drawing the inevitable splodge onto his forehead as he did the same to me. A few minutes of rest, then I pushed his slippery body off mine, and climbing stiffly to my feet offered him a hand up, we stood together for a moment, naked and grubby, then I broke the spell; "I guess we'd better find our clothes, fuck knows what's happened to mine, any idea where yours are?"
"Oh, I know where mine are," he said smugly, "let's go back to the middle, I think there's still a couple of beers left, once we've got them open then we can find your gear." Arms over each other's shoulders we ambled back across the grass to the centre of the park; we opened the last of the beers, and started to look for my clothes. Typically, the first thing we found was Paul's giant pants, it didn't take much longer to find my clothes, and, having dressed, I rolled up the rug, and followed Paul's twinkling butt into the bushes, where he had hidden his clothes a couple of hours earlier. Once we were both safely dressed, we climbed over the wall and out of the park, we hugged briefly and headed home, Paul promising to bring his big knickers over that week for a photo session, I wondered how to explain my streaked and dirty legs when I got home. Oh well, the adventure continues....