If it weren't for the mole on Aaron Denton's dick, I'd be a lot happier, I guarantee you. That mole has been bothering me ever since third grade, when I saw him piss in the woods. "What?" he said blankly, looking around at our horrified stares, not realizing he was doing something completely unnatural. The rest of us were just hanging it out, taking a regular piss through our zippers like sensible people, but not Aaron. Shit. Without even giving it a second thought, Aaron unzipped his jeans, pulled his pants down, right to the knees -- (aaack!) -- and started shooting a gusher all over the trees. The rest of us guys didn't know what to say. We all just stared at him, like he was the craziest fucking lunatic on the planet. "What?" he repeated. "Why's everybody looking?" "Dude," I motioned to him calmly. "Your ass is showing." He looked pretty unfazed that his golden globe nominations were hanging out in the breeze. "So what?" he mumbled. "It's how I piss." "Whatever," I shrugged. We zipped up and let him do his thing. It's a free country. __________________________________________________ My name's Cory Darrington. I'm 12. Aaron's name is Aaron Denton. He's 12, too. Some of you people like your names and ages right up here in the front of the story. So, there they are. Whatever. Knock yourselves out. __________________________________________________ Now, I'd be lying if I told you that Aaron Denton's dick didn't fascinate me. It did. I took one of those mental photographic snapshots -- and no matter how hard I tried to shake it -- it wouldn't let me go. I mean, I saw everything. Tiny little dick. (No offense intended. Mine was, too). Balls like a sack of pennies. Snow-white ass, with a tan line showing above the waist. And a god damn mole on his pecker! Not a big one. Just a mini-mole. But located right toward the top of the shaft -- just below the tiny mushroom head. As he stood there peeing, pinching the middle of his stalk between two dirty fingers, you couldn't help but notice it. In third grade, your friends' dicks are a dime a dozen. But a mole under the head...? Now that's something worth remembering. ___________________________________________________ So, Aaron and I became best friends. Anybody's who's got the guts to pull their pants down in front of three other guys, expose a dick mole and say fuck the consequences, is all right in my book. We wound up in the same class in fourth and fifth...and had a lot of classes together in sixth. We're in seventh is this year, in case you're wondering. Some of you like the school grades up front, too. What is it with you people? We're kids. We're in school. Relax. Life goes on. ___________________________________________________ The habit? Well, what do you think? It's jacking off. God, I must do it 45 times a day. Have you ever jacked off so many times your dick gets all puffy and stretched-out under the head? I mean...you try to take it easy. You use spit. You use lotion. You use Vaseline. You walk into the kitchen and your mom's baking cookies and you stare longingly at the Crisco. But no matter how careful you try to go, you wind up the next morning with that red, puffy, diseased looking penis -- the one that looks like you just ran it through a meat grinder. I'm 12 now, and I've whacked more times than those guys in the lumberjack contests. My dick hurts all the time. But, oh my God, I can't keep my hands off myself. "Half-hour, half-hour," I whisper to myself, through clenched teeth. I try to space my sessions out so I REALLY don't overdo it. My shaft is usually a mess of scraped-off skin. Getting hard-ons is a major medical condition. Code blue in Cory's room. I need a crash cart! Stat! I can't stop. If they ever give awards for self-mutilation, I'd like to thank my parents, my agent, and most of all, God. __________________________________________________ "That's it," I told Aaron, toward the end of the school year. "I'm done. I'm quitting. I'm giving this shit up." He was studying my swollen, puffy penis in my room. Limp. Exhausted. Too pooped to pump. He prodded it with a pencil to see what it might do. It just laid there, like a dog on a rug. He shook his head. "Yep," he said firmly. "You're wrecking it, all right." I put my hands up in the air. Guilty. "How many times a day you do it?" he asked. "Five-hundred," I exaggerated. "Six-hundred when Baywatch is on." "Yeah," he said coolly. "Baywatch does that to me, too." I zipped up my pants and we went downstairs to make sandwiches. Might as well give up breathing. __________________________________________________ The worst part about jacking off is -- I can't think of girls! That Baywatch crap is just a lie! All I can think of is Aaron's god damn mole on his dick! I'll be in my room, pumping away, lost somewhere between the pain and the pleasure, and I'll be desperately trying to think of anything female -- Jackie Golan's tits -- Brenda Hanson's lip gloss -- but NOTHING! Ugh. Nothing does it for me. Every time I cum, I'm imagining Aaron Denton's dick mole. What does it feel like? What does it taste like? I suck my own finger and imagine. What does it... STOP! He'd kill me if he ever found out. Best friends or not. Some things...? You just don't go there. ___________________________________________________ Summer camp. Twelve-years-old. Right before eighth grade was about to begin. Aaron and I were shipped off together. That's the problem with being best friends. Let your parents see you hanging out together too much, and you get identical prison terms when Camp Hoochacooch rolls around. So, there we were, hot July, out in the woods, enjoying our 45-minutes of free-time before we had to go back to the activity hall and turn pine cones into Christmas shit. Why the hell those people think Christmas in the middle of summer, I'll never know. Aaron whipped his out first and started peeing immediately. "Ahhhhh," I heard him moan, as the stream started hitting the leaves behind our cabin. In the years since third grade, he'd learned to piss normally. I tried not to look at the mole. But there it was...winking at me...screaming at me! I hadn't jacked-off in two-weeks -- a world record -- and now I was paying the price, because that God damn mole of his wouldn't let me out of its sight! "Don't let me get wood, don't let me get wood, don't let me get wood," I repeated over and over in my mind. "One plus one is two, two plus two is four, four plus four is eight, eight plus eight is sixteen..." I pulled mine out, hoping for the best -- it was limp, thank God. I started peeing, still keeping one eye cocked on that wonderful mole. I'd gone 14 days without a single cum. I was ready to jump out of my skin. "Ahhhhh," I echoed, letting my stream go. "Nice power play," Aaron nodded, impressed by my gusher. It felt good. Too much milk. Go to camp, and they force-feed you milk, every meal. Powdered, I'm pretty sure. Cows have GOT to be more talented. I pissed for decades. I looked at the ground. Trees wouldn't grow here for centuries. After we were done, he tugged on his penis and stretched it out, all the way, through his zipper, giving it a breather. His balls plunked out...a little bigger than I'd remembered them, but basically, your same set of 12-year-old balls. Nothing amazing to report. Settle down. Noticing I was looking a little too long and a little too hard, he glanced up at me. "What?" he said dumbly. "I'm looking at your dick," I admitted. "Oh." It didn't seem to bother him. He seemed more interested in watching his pee puddle dribble down one leaf and onto another than the fact that I was scoping out his nads. After a second he said, "You wanna suck it?" "No, I don't wanna suck it!" I shouted out in horror. "I just wanna look at it!" "Oh," he said again. Sheesh. Look at a guy's dick and all of a sudden he figures you want it in your mouth. What's wrong with people these days? Besides, Aaron and I didn't do that stuff. "So, how long do you wanna look at it?" he asked impatiently. "We've only got 45 minutes." "Just for a second," I answered. "I'm checking out that mole." He pulled on his penis for me -- pinched it between his fingers and pulled it taut, so I could get a better view of my target. "See?" he said. "Just a mole." I couldn't believe he was so casual about it. "Yeah," I answered squeamishly. "But it's on your dick. Doesn't it hurt?" "Dude," he said simply. "It's a mole. Moles don't hurt." I walked over to him and got a closer look. We were safe. The rest of our happy camping party was nowhere in sight. We were all alone behind, since we had kitchen duty that day, after lunch. We did the dishes and hung out at the cabin. Not a kid, not a counselor in sight. Freedom. "Can I touch it?" I asked. This was new territory for me. I hadn't even talked to Aaron about his weenie mole, much less offered to put my finger on it. We were breaking new ground here. He shrugged. Didn't seem too shocked. "Whatever makes you happy," he said. I kneeled down closer to give it a closer look. I made sure I wasn't sitting in his lake of pee. I reached out slowly and gave it a poke. "Woo," he shuddered. "Tickles." I took the tip of my index finger and ran it along the mole. His dick jerked a little at the sensation. Beneath my jeans, I could feel myself getting a stiffy. I looked at it some more. Touched it. Leaned in and smelled it. Normal smell. Just a dick. Nothing too major. I was about to say, "Okay, I'm done," when suddenly Aaron grabbed the back of my head and mushed his dick into my face...obviously aiming for my mouth, but since I slammed my lips shut, all he did was smash it into my nose. "Hey!" I yelled. "Knock that shit off!" He tried one more time. I resisted. "Aw, come on," he moaned. "We've got 45 minutes." I looked at my watch and confirmed it. We did. "Give it a little suck," he said hopefully. "Come on. Just a little one." I looked around to make sure no one was watching. Stupid, really, since there wasn't a soul within a mile. They were all out walking. Looking at caterpillars and stupid shit like that. "Okay," I said fearfully. "But if you tell anybody about this, I swear, I'll kick your ass." "Just suck it," he repeated, breathing harder. I opened my mouth and took him inside. I didn't want to let him know that I wanted to do this for a long time. I purposely tried to make myself look bad, so he didn't think I was queer. Even though I'd practiced this scene many, many times on my own wet finger, I sucked him sloppily...even letting my teeth scrape across his shaft once or twice, just for effect. "Ow!" he yelled. "I said suck it, not bite it off!" "Sorry," I mumbled, with a mouth full of cock. "I'm not really sure how it works." (Yeah, right). He pulled back and stuffed it back in his pants. "Amateur," he mumbled. And for a second there, I thought we were done. It was a little upsetting, since my own dick was rock hard in my pants by now. "Let's go inside the cabin," he suggested quickly. And when he led, I followed. ___________________________________________________ On the bottom bunk of cabin number four -- named "Iroquois" for the Indian tribe, Aaron and I enjoyed a slow sixty-nine. We fell into it naturally...urgently....a little worried that we'd taken our pants off and anybody might come back and walk in on us...but frankly, we were too excited to care. I felt his hot cock, mole and all, sliding in and out of my mouth frantically. And I was doing the same thing to him. The senses -- the smell - the taste -- They were overwhelming. And the faking part was over. Now we were doing it as skillfully as we could. ___________________________________________________ "Let me butt-fuck you," I whispered, halfway down his shaft...the words coming out slurred and spitty. "No way," he answered quickly. "Come on...please?" There was a moment of silence as my hard-on waited for the answer. "Okay," he said nervously, "but if it hurts, you have to take it out." I coaxed him to his knees and positioned him doggie-style on the bottom bunk. "If you hurt me," he repeated, "I'll kill you." I shrugged. Sounded fair to me. I spit on my dick and guided it to his asshole. Not knowing anything about style or technique, or least of all, anal muscles, I leaned forward and jabbed it in like a poker. "AHHHH!" he screamed. "You fucker!!! That hurts!!! Take it out!!" But it was way too hot and good in there to pull it back even an inch. No way. I was in for the long run. "Just relax," I said casually. "It's supposed to hurt. Just give it a second. It gets better." "Yeah, right," he mumbled. "Easy for you to say. You don't have a pole up your butt." We stayed like that for a second...Aaron wincing...me on a nervous, unsteady standby, ready to pump like a jumping kangaroo the second he gave me any indication the pain was gone. "Okay," he grunted resentfully. "It's okay now. Just go slow." I tried. I honestly tried to go slow...but it was too much to handle. Fourteen days since I let myself come, and now there I was, buried to the hilt into the sweet, tight asshole of my best friend. The one I fantasized about. The one I dreamed about while I jacked myself and shot cum all over my stomach. "Uuuugh," I moaned, pushing myself in and out...much faster than he wanted me to, I think. "Hurry up," he grunted. "This doesn't feel good." "Just a few more strokes," I moaned...my voice coming out in choppy syllables. And then it was over. My whole body lit up with fire, and I jammed my dick as hard as I could, spearing his ass cheeks with the force of my weight...cramming it so far into him I thought I'd scream out loud. And fourteen days worth of pent-up sperm shot from my tingling dick and buried themselves deep within his hot, young bowels. A release...an accomplishment I'll never forget. "You jerk," he said, getting off the bed and putting his underwear back on. "That hurt." "You can do me tomorrow," I grinned. Peace offering. He grinned back. "You are SO in for it," he said. And by the look on his face, by God, I was. Strangely, the thought didn't seem to bother me. We got dressed, straightened the bunk covers, and walked off down the path toward the activity hall. Pine cone time. Life goes on. But I will say this. The habit's been broken. With all the other stuff we do, we don't have time for whacking. Say what you want about the things we do to each other... But, Dude... Aaron Denton and I definitely do NOT jack-off anymore. _________________________________________________ END