The Bonfire Boys Chapter 1
This story is the property of the author and is entirely fictitious, created through the mind of the author. Any resemblance to any persons, places, etc., whether real or imagined, is entirely coincidental. This story features gay male characters engaging in sexual intercourse. If this offends you or is illegal where you live, it's your responsibility to close this page.
The Bonfire Boys takes place in a magical, yet somewhat modern, world, and all characters involved in sexual scenes will be 18+ years of age. While there is plan for sex in every chapter, there will also be a fair amount of plot-related stuff or world-building as well as while this story is intended on providing sex to help you get off, it's also a story with a plot beyond "who and where is next?". There are absolutely no plans to have abuse and domination in the story, so if those are your things, this isn't for you.
Characters involved in sex in this chapter: Caleb T. (18); solo.
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Chapter One.
Relaxing in my bed when I first wake each morning is nice. It's calm, it's quiet, and it's peaceful. Most of my day will probably be peaceful, too, as I don't live a very exciting life. I will one day, but that's probably a fair ways off due to my pursuit of a certain goal I have. It's not an easy thing to achieve – no one's managed it, after all. Not in three thousand years.
My goal isn't out of a desire for fame or wealth or anything. I don't care about being the first. This is just something I want to do because ever since I found out about the mages of old when I was thirteen. Until then, I'd thought them mere myths, legends. Tales that people told themselves.
But then I met Ethan and discovered through his family's archives that the tales of old had some truth to them. Once upon a time, magicians could use magic directly, without items – just like the magical beasts of the world. We're in what's called the "Era of Limited Magic" because of it, but everyone I knew had believed it just the name that someone came up with. To find that we humans once used magic directly, without the need of items, was incredible to me back then.
Now, five years later, I'm still working towards being able to do it. To truly call upon the primal forces of the world, to fly unaided, to cross vast distances without immense preparation, and more. A dream I'd given up as I learned it was unachievable suddenly became possible once more.
Unfortunately, I've hit the same block that everyone else who's pursued this has: I simply don't know how the mages of old managed it. When I use magic, I channel my mana into an item, activating the enchantment within. If I want to use a crude spell in a hurry, I could just channel it into a magic crystal directly, but that has its risks and limitations. Any attempt at directly creating the effects with my mana results in failure.
These repeated failures haven't stopped me, though, and nor have they slowed me. I think I've figured something out that might help, though. It's taking me time to work on, but I'm certain it will yield results. Well, if I'm being entirely honest, I'm only hoping that it will. Even if it fails, I'll at least still have an increased mana capacity and recovery rate, though.
That's something to deal with later, though. After I properly get up and do some stuff. Turning onto my back, I pull the thick, warm blanket off of me, letting it drop to my side. As always, I've got a morning erection, and I plan on taking care of it before doing anything else. My morning always starts the same way, with the same four actions: getting off, going for a three-mile run, taking a shower, then eating breakfast. What happens after that varies based on my plans.
I have very little fat and some light muscle definition thanks to my morning run every day, and I lack the tan that some people get if they leave the area. We don't get much sun here, but I find that perfectly acceptable. I'm not absurdly pale, and I'm happy with how I look.
Especially with the size of my dick. It's more than above-average, sitting at 8.4" long and 2" thick. Or rather, standing at that, since it sticks straight out on its when fully-hard, which it is right now. Well, at the moment, it's sticking straight up, since I'm lying on my back at the moment. Like most guys around here, I've got a foreskin, and mine doesn't just stop at covering the tip even while hard, instead extending past a little, giving me some extra.
Reaching down with my right hand, I grasp my dick with my fingers and thumb but not my palm, then begin stroking it. I never use lube when just jacking off as it's not a problem unless I'm doing it far too long for far too often.
For a few minutes, I just stroke myself at a mild pace. Not too fast, not too slow. With my left hand, I reach up and start playing with my right nipple, squeezing it, pressing on it, rubbing it, and just enjoying the feeling. My nipples are extremely sensitive, something I discovered before I first discovered jacking off. In fact, it's what caused me to jack off the first time.
After about a minute, I switch my left hand over to my left nipples, softly sighing in pleasure as I pick up the pace of me jacking off. I can last a long time, even when doing it quick, especially if I stop when I feel myself getting close, even if the halt is for just a few minutes. Because of this, I get to enjoy the self-pleasure for a decent amount of time.
Every minute of this, I switch which nipple I'm playing with, alternating to rubbing my hairless, lightly-toned abs after I've played with both of them, then returning to my right nipple after the next minute. I don't have any body hair, but that's normal for a wizard. It's also much to my preference – I'd rather myself and any guy I get with to be perfectly smooth. Perfectly smooth bodies are one of my big turn-ons, and I like to imagine it's another's as I do this, another doing this to me.
This morning, I'm horny enough that I start to reach the peak after only about ten minutes, and once I do, I stop jacking off and teasing my body, releasing my dick as I do. Moving back a little in my bed, I reach onto my nightstand and grab a couple of tissues from the box resting atop it along with the bottle of lube sitting beside that, setting them by my waist. Then, I pull my legs up, moving my arms over them once they're beside my head. Bending my right arm back toward me, I grab my dick and pull the foreskin back, licking it.
Ever since figuring out I was flexible to suck myself, I switched my morning self-pleasure session to include a morning suck-off session. This feels much better than just a hand can manage, and I enjoy doing it to myself. The feel of a tongue licking the bared head of my dick, the feel of a hot, moist mouth wrapped around my dick, the feel of a dick this size in my mouth… I love giving myself this treatment every morning.
I spend just a minute licking the tip of my dick, flicking my tongue against its slit, covering the whole tip in saliva. Then, I start slowly letting my foreskin slide back over the tip, letting it trap my tongue. When I move my tongue while it's under my foreskin, the feeling causes me to moan softly. I continue this for a few minutes, then start licking the outside of the foreskin as I slide it back over the head of my dick. Once it's fully covered, I move my head forward, engulfing my dick with my mouth, letting out another soft moan as I do. My dick is thick enough that it fills my mouth, with me barely able to prevent my teeth from scraping against it – something I've learned I really don't like to feel.
One of the things I want to do, once I find a guy, is to suck him off as he sucks me off, swallowing every last drop of his cum. He can swallow mine if he wants, but it's not required and I'll swallow his anyway. If he's thick, average, or slender, I don't care. If he's long or average, I don't care. If he can shoot more loads than the average of eight, then I'm more than happy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not addicted to cum, I just think that if I'm doing this, the more the better.
After a few minutes of sucking myself, I reach over with one hand and feel for the lube. I usually stick it in a spot where I can easily reach it from this position, and today's no different from the norm. Once it's in my hand, I pop the lid open and squeeze out some of the gel onto my right index finger with practiced ease. This wasn't easy when I first started doing this, but I've managed to build up the necessary skill to do this right every time.
With lube on my finger, I set the tube down and begin pushing my right index finger into my ass, moaning slightly as I feel it rubbing against my prostate. I go all the way down on my dick, using only my tongue at this point, as I begin moving my finger back and forth, making sure to push it all the way in. I spend a few minutes just moving my finger around, pushing it in and wiggling it around, pulling it back, and repeating. Once there's little resistance, I add some more lube to it and to my middle finger, then push both of those into my ass.
There's a bit of pressure, my ass not stretched that far yet, but I persist, pushing my fingers all the way down, moaning slightly as I feel them rubbing my prostate. I wiggle them a bit, twist and turn them some, then pull them back until only the tips are in. I continue with two fingers for a few minutes before pulling them out and lubing them and my ring finger up, then pushing those in, moaning slightly. This isn't anywhere near as thick or as deep as a proper dick would go, but it's still plenty pleasurable. I spend a few minutes before finally adding my little finger to the bunch, and it's only now that I return to moving my head back and forth, letting my dick slide in my mouth, but never pull my head back far enough that my dick slips out.
This multi-assault on my pleasure is the best part of this self-pleasure routine each morning, and I start to fantasize about sucking someone off as I get sucked off and fucked, though the dick in my ass would preferably be thicker and longer than my fingers. The only thing that would make this better would be if I could play with my nipples, but I've learned that's not very feasible with this position.
It doesn't take long before I feel myself nearing my peak, so I pull my head back until just the tip of my dick is in my mouth, and I continue using the fingers of my right hand to penetrate my ass, feeling them stretching it out a little. With my left hand, I grab my dick and pull the foreskin back so that it's out of my mouth, then I increase the suction I'm using on it as I continue to rub it with my tongue.
Only another minute is needed before I reach my peak, and I let out a soft moan as I start shooting my load into my mouth. Tasting the hot, thick, salty cum on my tongue, I start swallowing. I let loose thirteen shots this morning, and only once there's nothing left to swallow do I release my dick from my mouth. I pull my fingers out of my ass, then grab some tissues and start wiping my ass with them.
I get up as much of the lube on the outside as I can, then I sit up and wipe my fingers off before sitting up and opening up the pack of hand wipes on my night stand. I use those to finish cleaning up my fingers and ass, then I toss the trash away, return the lube to its spot on the nightstand, and finally get out of bed.
It's a pretty plain routine, but it's the sort that I certainly enjoy. Damn anyone who doesn't like that to a thousand days without an orgasm.
Now that I've gotten off, I get ready for my morning run. Brown boxer-briefs, brown shorts, and a green sleeveless. Then I slip on green socks and my green-and-brown sneakers. All of it's dark brown and dark green – I don't like lighter colors. While I could put on sweats and a jacket or hoodie like most people, considering the temperature is usually in the fifties this time of day, I know that I'll warm up and start sweating even in what I'm wearing now. Though I don't mind feeling a little bit icky and gross from the workout, there's a limit to that.
Ready for the workout, I quietly head downstairs. I don't really need to be careful of my noise level, since leaving the house isn't a noisy affair, but I do so anyway out of courtesy. Exiting the house, I stop on the front porch, feeling the chilly morning air against my bare arms, face, and lower legs, feeling it pressing through my running outfit.
Before setting off for my run, I stretch a little. Just a five-minute warmup of some basic stretches to help loosen my body up and keep me flexible, then I descend the steps and follow the path leading to the driveway. There are more of the red, orange, and yellow leaves down than there were yesterday. The change is enough to let me know that winter's drawing near.
Rumors tell of worlds with four seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter. In this realm, we 'have' those seasons, but only two truly apply: autumn and winter. From December to March, we have the winter months. From March to December, we have the autumn months. It's pretty easy to remember, especially since the leaves always grow in already turned, and they always fall. They even regrow repeatedly up until around October. Typically, we have to rake the leaves once every one to three weeks.
There are four trees in the front yard of my family's two-story home, two close to the house and two near the road. In the driveway is my car, with my parents' cars in the garage. On the other side of the driveway, a hedge twelve feet in height and three feet in thickness grows. Even in winter, the hedge is green as can be, providing us plenty of privacy for the back yard and a little bit of color to contrast against the white of the snow and the browns and greys of the trees and fencing.
The older leaves crunch under my feet as I walk down the path and the driveway, then I reach the road. As usual, we have darker grey clouds out. Unlike many people, I actually like it being overcast all the time – the less sun there is, the less it hurts my eyes. Right now, the clouds are dark enough that I don't need sunglasses in the slightest. It's always amused me, the people who believe that 'clouds' means 'not enough sunlight for some people to need sunglasses'.
Those people are considered idiots in my book.
Performing one last stretch once I reach the end of the driveway, I set off down the road in a light jog. While my time for a mile is five minutes and eighteen seconds when I last pushed it for a class in school, I usually set a pace of around ten to twelve minutes for my morning run. I'm not racing anyone and I'm not getting a grade for this, I'm doing this to keep in shape.
My jog takes me down the street, past the two-story homes with two to four trees in their front yards, some with cars in their driveways, others not. Once I reach the end of the street, I make a right-hand turn and continue down, following this road past more homes and roads in the neighborhood until I reach the end of the neighborhood. As always, traffic is light, though I don't cross the big road. Instead, I take a right and continue down this road.
To my right is one side of the neighborhood, though a fifteen-foot-high hedge separates the two. From the road to the hedge is a stretch of grass around thirty feet wide, with more trees planted in it, their leaves shades of red, orange, and yellow, as always.
To my left is the park. It's a pretty big park, with a stretch of grass around sixty feet wide leading from the road to the "true" start of the park, trees filling it as well. There's a four-foot-tall hedge wall on the park side of the sidewalk, too, for a little bit more 'separation'. I know there are a few benches and trash cans which are hidden from the view of the street by the hedge, too.
Come winter, I'm sure there will be mini-snowman sitting on the hedge. No one's ever figured out who it is who does that, and people have set up entire operations just to discover it. Whenever those stings are set up, the snowmen don't appear, no matter how subtle the sting is.
Continuing my run, I reach the other entrance to the neighborhood from this street and take a right, entering my neighborhood once more. By this time, my body's warmed up considerably despite the light wind going on right now, the breeze helping to keep me cooler as it flows over my sweat. I make it back to my street, turn onto it, and make my way down to my house, slowing to a walk only once I reach my house. Instead of walking into my house, though, I simply walk down to the end of the street, turn around, and return home. I learned a long time ago that not doing a cool-down walk is a bad idea.
Inside the house, I find the lights on and my parents up.
Mom's in the kitchen, only now starting to set things out to begin cooking breakfast, dressed in grey sweatpants and a burgundy long-sleeved shirt, her sleeves rolled up. She's also wearing a black apron with a hydra pattern on its front, which she always wears when she cooks. Usually, Mom makes breakfast while she and Dad switch off between who makes dinner, and if we're doing something big for lunch, who makes that.
Judging by what she's put out, we're having french toast, sausage links, and eggs, with which we'll probably have fruit on the side and some milk and orange juice to drink.
Mom has the same sandy-blond hair that I do, her eyes dark green. I inherited my blue-grey eyes from my dad's dad, my dad himself having pale blue eyes. His hair's more of a golden blond, and he has a slim build, as most wizards do. Like most wizards, he has little in the way of fat, but little in the way of muscle. Despite his lack of exercise, though, Dad doesn't put me down for wanting to keep in shape.
I inherited being smooth as can be from both of them, since Dad's a wizard and Mom's a witch. My body had no chance at being something hairy, and I'm perfectly happy with that.
Dad's sitting in the living room, wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants, his right foot up, ankle on his left knee, a mug of hot cocoa in his right hand and his tablet in his left, the news on the TV. He's using the TV to catch up on the news and his tablet to communicate with wizards and witches regarding studies, news, and other things.
Overall, a pretty normal Saturday morning for us.
"Morning," I greet my parents.
"Morning, Caleb," Mom says. "Breakfast should be finishing up around when you come back down."
"Thanks," I say.
"Morning," Dad says. "A pegasus was supposedly spotted last night."
Pegasi went extinct shortly after the start of the current era, but there's always a claim every month or two that one was spotted. No one's ever been able to prove those claims, though, and any pictures have been quickly proven false. They're always people looking for fifteen minutes of fame, and they get it because there's always someone who believes them despite the impossibility of it.
"Your tone suggests you might actually believe this one," I say. "You've never been the sort to believe tall tales, Dad."
"I'm not believing it," he chuckles. "Just letting you know. The person who claims to have seen it went to high school with you, one Jeff Bols. It popped up in the news because he was a local."
"He's an ass and a liar," I roll my eyes. "And he moved halfway across the autumn realm as soon as we graduated back in May. His lies kept getting people into trouble, and he was a 'local' for only three years. No clue where he came from before he moved here, it changed every time he was asked."
"Alright," Dad chuckles. "Go take your shower."
I head up to my room and strip out of my clothes, then step into my bathroom. One benefit of being an only child: when my parents were renovating the upstairs when I was ten, they added a bathroom attached to my bedroom just for me and designed it based on my requests. There's still the actual upstairs bathroom, but I don't need to step out into the hall and get seen by an imaginary person up here if I want to just enter the bathroom naked for a shower.
Since I have a separate tub and shower, I step into the shower and turn on the water, the temperature hot immediately thanks to point-of-use water heaters. I start scrubbing off my sweat, making sure to thoroughly clean myself from head to toe, under my foreskin, and everywhere else that needs it. I don't jack off in the shower, though, as horny as I am. My boner will get taken care of later, after breakfast.
Once I'm squeaky-clean, I shut off the shower and open the door, grabbing the thick, dark green towel off the bar. Drying myself off, I step out of the shower and into my bedroom, slipping on a pair of dark green shorts. While the tenting will be obvious to my parents, my family's a bit more casual. It's a natural occurrence, and they don't tease me over it because I'm only eighteen – boners at any point in time is natural. Expected, even.
Continuing to dry my hair with the towel, I make my way downstairs, stopping by the laundry room to hang the towel up to dry before it'll get added to the others in the hamper in here. When I enter the dining room, Dad's sitting at the head of the table with Mom seated to his right. I take the seat at the other end of the table, and we begin digging into the food that Mom's set out for us.
"How did your run go?" Mom asks.
"Pretty nice," I answer. "The perfect clouds and amount of wind, and it felt nice. I warmed up pretty fast once I got going, and it was pretty quiet, as always. Didn't notice anyone at the park."
"You wake before most people," Mom smiles. "What are your plans for today?"
"I'm heading to the bonfire after breakfast," I answer.
"Good luck," Dad tells me. "Will Ethan be there?"
The bonfire pit is on Ethan's private property, and I'm the only person he's given permission to enter. Set into one of Ethan's forested properties, it's quiet and secluded, which makes it a great place for meditation, reflection, relaxation, and studying. I use it all the time either to study for school, just hang out with Ethan, or to work on my progress for my goal. Today, it's for the last of those.
"Ethan's not even close to being a morning person," I say. "I'm not sure if I'd still be there by the time he finally gets out of bed, and he probably wouldn't stop by until this afternoon or evening. I might be back for lunch. If not, I'll just stop and grab something on the way."
"Okay," Dad says. "I'm going to spend most of today grading projects, and I'm not looking forward to it."
Dad's one of the professors at Nombridas Magic Academy, the academy I began attending at the start of this term, since I'm out of high school now. It's my college/university/whatever of choice. He teaches Introduction to Enchanting and Advanced Enchantments, two vastly different courses. More than a few times, he's mentioned that he learned quickly in his career to not schedule both courses to have big projects due at the same time, and to always have them due on the weekends to give him plenty of time to appraise them properly.
"Just make sure to give mine an A-plus," I grin at him.
There's no rule against parents having their kid as their student, and the academy usually finds out pretty fast if the parent is favoring or punishing their kid unfairly. The academy always monitors the student's grades, assignments, punishments, and so on to make sure. Dad's not the type to show favoritism because I'm his kid, so that's never an issue.
"I'll give you the grade you earn," he retorts.
"Which is an A-plus," I give him my cheekiest grin.
Dad sighs.
"Yeah, you got an A-plus," he tells me. "I got through half of your class's yesterday, and yours was one of them."
It probably came as no surprise to anyone who worked with Dad or had him as a professor already that I'm earning top scores in his class, and I'm actually earning them. Normally, the child of a teacher has an aversion to their parent's subject, despite what a lot of stories say. I'm one of the rare cases of a child of a teacher who's both interested in their parent's and talented in it. Dad always did his best to never push it on me and to support me in my other goals. He never wanted me to become like him.
Which helped me not develop an aversion to enchanting. While it's not something I actually want to get into, it's required for the study course I'm going through. Most of my courses are on magical theory, but there are also some courses on magical plants and beasts as well. To better understand magic, one needs to understand how it works both in nature as well as in man-made creations.
"I wish I could just skip all of these," I roll my eyes. "But no, there's no testing out."
"Because," Dad says. "There's a difference between being able to test out of something and actually possessing the knowledge and skills. This is especially true in enchanting. Just testing out of Introduction to Enchanting would require at least a day of testing to properly receive enough enchanted items for a proper appraisal."
I've heard this all before.
"Yeah," I say. "But considering that some of us are known to make Rank V items… I think 'testing out' would be more of a courtesy for those of us who literally know everything we're doing in class."
"You don't know everything we're-"
"What new stuff will I be learning?" I ask.
Dad takes several moments to think about that.
"Fair point," he says. "I can't think of anything from either of the ones I teach that you'd be new to, and the same goes with the Intermediate Enchanting. That said, you're an extreme exception, not the norm, Caleb, and it would be too costly to create a test just for that."
It's a good refresher course, I'd just prefer to spend my time working on my goal and taking a class that doesn't push that forward bothers me. Maybe if I didn't grow up learning this stuff, I'd be fine with it. But I did, so I'm not. I'll resign myself to continuing to take these classes… for now.
"What are your plans for today?" I ask Mom.
"I need to go shopping for more groceries," she answers. "After that, I'll get ready for the dinner, then head over to Sophie's to help her prepare for it."
My mom's helping host a dinner for a group of witches. A girls' night sort of thing they host every two or three months at Sophie's, and Mom always helps with setting it up and preparing the food for it. I'd forgotten that the next one was today, but that's the point of these breakfast discussions – to remind everyone of plans they may have forgotten. I'll likely not see Mom again today after I leave, not unless she comes back home before I go to bed.
Now that we've all mentioned what our plans for today are, Dad starts talking about the stuff he found out through the news and his chats with his friends and acquaintances earlier. When I finish eating, I excuse myself, rinsing off my dishes in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher.
I head up to my room and strip off my shorts, then pull on my outfit for today. Dark green boxer-briefs, brown jeans, and a dark green tee. Over that, I wear a brown overshirt, which I leave unbuttoned, though I don't roll the sleeves up. Though it's chilly out, I don't need a coat today. My overshirt is thick enough to keep me warm and I'll be at a fire, anyway. I grab my wallet, phone, and keys and pocket them, then slip my watch onto my left wrist.
Grabbing my bonfire backpack, I check the supplies in it. Lube, tissues, wipes, two pocket knives, a first aid kit, two flashlights with charged mana crystal batteries, two backup batteries for the flashlights, emergency flares, anti-bug bombs for the fire, fire-starter sticks, and four water bottles. Two of the water bottles are inside of the bag and the other two are in the bottle nets on the sides, though all four are empty. I zip up the backpack, then grab the rolled-up brown blanket that I take with me and carry them down to the kitchen, setting them on the counter. I fill up all four bottles and return them to the backpack, then grab a box of crackers and stick it into the bag, along with two oranges, some cheese, some summer sausage, and a container of spread for the crackers. With my backpack filled, I strap the blanket onto it and check to make sure it's secure.
"I'm heading out," I tell my parents. "See you guys."
"See you later," Dad says.
"See you," Mom tells me.
I dip my head to them, then leave, getting into my car and dropping the backpack onto the front passenger seat. After buckling up, I turn on the car and back out of the driveway. While I could walk to my destination, that takes a few hours, while I can get there by car in about twenty minutes or so. I drive out of my neighborhood, then along the road I jogged along, though taking a left onto it instead of a right.
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