Beach Boys

Beach Boys

By: Spectrotica247

...

Summary:

Two young pre-teen boys, Miles and Chandler, spend the day at the beach cleaning the mess Miles' prank has caused as punishment. But they would later sneak off somewhere private where they would engage in intimate acts without prying eyes... or so they thought.

Chapter Two - "Two Boys in a Cove"

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Miles nearly tripped over his own feet when Chandler said 'yes'. Not the hesitant, squeaky 'okay-fine' he expected, but a whisper so raw it scraped his eardrums like sandpaper. For a heartbeat, he just stared, watching Chandler's eyelashes flutter against sunburnt cheeks, the way his throat bobbed around nothing. Then Miles grinned all teeth with no mercy, and dragged him toward the cove's jagged teeth without another word.

Chandler stumbled after him, worry still laced in his voice when he asked, "You're sure Keoni won't—"

"Shut up," The rebellious boy hissed. "You've been imagining this for God knows how long. So stop pretending."

The cove swallowed them whole, a crescent of black lava rock curving like a predator's jaw, waves licking at its teeth. Chandler was immediately blown away. Spindrift floated in sunbeams where the tide pools glowed emerald, their edges crusted with pink coralline algae that fizzed underfoot like broken pop rocks. Sea grapes hung heavy overhead, dripping shadows that swayed across Miles' shoulder blades as he shoved aside a curtain of beach naupaka. The leaves left sticky fingerprints on his collarbones.

Chandler's pulse stuttered. Here, the ocean's roar muted to a whisper, the tropical atmosphere was thick with brine and the iron-sweet tang of guava rotting on the rocks. Miles' sandals crunched over oyster shells as he kicked aside a beer bottle, some relic from Darius' shitty party, before turning with that oh-so sexy grin Chandler knew meant trouble.

"See?" Miles spread his arms, spinning slowly. The noon sun caught the sweat sheening his chest, the hollows between his ribs. "No Keoni. No parents. Just..." His grin widened. "Us."

Chandler's nervousness momentarily evaporated, replaced by pure wonder. He took a step onto the soft, untouched sand, leaving the first sandal print in their now secret sanctuary. The way barnacles spiraled like tiny galaxies on the rocks, how the tide pools reflected sunlight in shifting fractal patterns, details he'd never noticed before, even though he'd lived on this island his whole life.

The breeze carried the scent of salt-wet pandanus leaves and something sweet, wild hibiscus maybe, mixing with the mineral tang of sun-warmed stone. Where waves had undercut the lava shelf, a shallow cave exhaled cool air, its ceiling studded with tiny bubbles trapped in volcanic glass. Chandler reached out, trailing fingertips across the surfaces as if trying to memorize each curve and fracture.

Miles watched him with an unfamiliar expression. Not mocking, not impatient... just watching. The dark-haired troublemaker leaned against a boulder smoothed by centuries of tides, arms crossed. Sunlight filtered through his ridiculous black bangs, casting stripes across his suddenly solemn face. "You're staring at rocks," he pointed out, but his voice lacked its usual taunting edge.

Chandler didn't answer. He was too busy counting the ruby-colored sea urchins clustered in a tidal pool, their spines moving in slow unison like underwater clockwork. Something about this place felt... sacred. Like they were the first people to ever discover it, even though empty beer cans and a deflated volleyball half-buried in the sand proved otherwise.

Miles' sandal nudged Chandler's ankle. "Hey. Earth to prude." He gestured impatiently toward the cave's shadowed mouth. "You coming or what?"

The blonde boy hesitated only a second before following Miles into the damp, echoing space where the ocean's roar was reduced to a distant sigh. He can't explain to himself enough how illicit the thrill of their seclusion is.

The cave's ceiling dripped slow, mineral-heavy droplets onto Miles' shoulders as he turned to his shy friend. "Now this is where the fun begins," He murmured, his hand beginning to tug at the tied ropes of his shorts, pausing just long enough to watch Chandler's throat bob.

"Ready?"

Chandler nodded. He was screaming on the inside, finally ready to surrender to what he had denied himself for so long.

Then prepare to be amazed, Smith. Miles grinned with squinted mischief-filled eyes and pulled the ropes loose, allowing the fabric to fall to his ankles, revealing to the blue-eyed boy for the first time his youthful, stiffening uncut erection.

The raven-haired boy's uncircumcised penis stood proudly before Chandler, a testament to his burgeoning adolescence. It was a good five inches—impressive for a boy of 12, with the pinkish-red head peaking from its hooded foreskin that clung to the shaft like a protective sheath. The veins along the Nichols boy's member were indeed visible, pulsing with excitement, and a single bead of pre-cum emerged from the slit, hinting at the pleasures that lay ahead for them. The soft, downy hair that surrounded the base of Miles' cock was a stark contrast to the smoothness of his erection. The scent of urine from Miles' early accident (and perhaps arousal) was strong in the confined space of the cave, mingling with the salt and minerals around them.

Chandler's blue eyes widened as he took in the sight, his own member twitching eagerly in his trunks in response. He had seen other boys' penises in the locker room, but none had been as developed as Miles'. It looked... heavy. He had noticed Miles' occasional boners... how could he not when they shared a bed during sleepovers? But he had NEVER imagined what lay beneath those shorts would be so... mature.

That's... that's really Miles'... thing? Am I really seeing this? The blonde 12-year-old's thought screamed inside his skull, sharp, and disbelieving. Guess now he knew what his rebellious friend meant when he said 'grew early'... well, honestly, he already knew where this was going. Miles' boner was uncut, looked nothing like his own circumcised cock, the loose skin bunching at the tip felt foreign, almost primal. But what truly seized him was the sheer size: Miles stood at the same height, shared the same age, yet his cock jutted out thicker, longer, IMPOSSIBLY GROWN, compared to Chandler's own straining outline behind the urine stained trunks.

How? HOW is it already so... big? Is this some joke? He gulped.

This ain't no joke. The proof was right there, undeniable and intimidating. Miles' cock wasn't just bigger; it was substantial, hard and flushed against his pale stomach. His own shorts felt painfully tight, his own erection seeming pitifully small in comparison.

The boy with raven crop hair watched the wide-eyed stare on Chandler's face, the open-mouthed shock that froze him solid from seeing his stiff boyhood. A surge of masculine pride washed over him, hot and potent. He instinctively puffed out his chest, standing a little taller, letting Chandler absorb every detail: the thick veins running along his shaft, the glistening pre-cum beading at the flushed pink tip.

"So?" Miles began in a low, husky murmur that vibrated with undisguised pride. He tilted his hips forward slightly, making his erection bob. "You like what you see? Pretty special, huh?" He ran a fingertip lightly along the prominent vein on the underside, making the swollen head glisten anew. "Bet you didn't expect this when you signed up for beach cleanup duty: seeing something this big on a guy our age." His green eyes held Chandler's blue ones, challenging and bright with the thrill of finally being seen by his best friend, finally having his secret size acknowledged.

Chandler blinked, his gaze snapping back up from the mesmerizing sight to Miles' face. His own cheeks felt scorched. "M-Miles..." he stammered. "How... how big is it?" The question burst out, clumsy and raw. His eyes darted back down, wide with disbelief. "Seriously, dude... how? We're both twelve!"

Miles snorted, shifting his weight cockily. The slight movement made his erection twitch. Chandler watched, transfixed, as another bead of pre-cum welled at the tip before dribbling down the shaft that looked like it belonged to a high schooler, not a kid barely out of sixth grade.

"Yeah, well," Miles smirked, rubbing his thumb across the wetness, spreading it lazily. "Guess I got lucky." His grin turned wicked. "Or un-lucky, depending on who you ask." He stepped closer, sand shifting underfoot. "Found out last year when I stole my dad's Playboy. Measured mine against the centerfold." He shrugged, fingers teasing at his foreskin, peeling it back slightly—just enough to reveal more slick, pink flesh. "Five inches. Hard."

Chandler swallowed audibly. His own erection throbbed painfully in his shorts, feeling a sudden, sharp pang of inadequacy. "That's... insane."

"Yeah, that's exactly what the kid at the gym showers said." Miles replied. "Especially when I can do this."

He withdrew his hand from his cock and began to focus intently, his brow furrowing slightly. With a subtle tensing of muscles deep in his groin and abdomen, he made the thick shaft twitch. Then, slowly, deliberately, he began retracting the loose foreskin solely by flexing those hidden muscles. The slick, pink-red bulbous head emerged inch by inch, fully exposed. Then, reversing the motion with another internal flex, he smoothly pulled the foreskin back down, completely sheathing the swollen head again. He repeated the motion - a slow, deliberate bobbing of the glans emerging and vanishing within its hood, controlled entirely without hands. It was a hypnotic, intimate display of control over his own anatomy.

"Neat, huh?" Miles' prideful grin was all teeth as Chandler stared, transfixed, at the rhythmically pulsing foreskin.

The blonde pre-teen's brain is short-circuited. "H-how—" He squeaked, swallowed, then tried again. "How are you doing that? Like... flexing it?" He gestured vaguely at Miles' crotch, fingertips trembling. "That's not—people can't just do that."

Miles rolled his eyes, but his smirk softened at the edges. He grabbed Chandler's wrist and pressed the blonde's palm flat against his own lower abdomen, just above the wiry tangle of public hair. "Feel that?" he asked, guiding Chandler's fingers to a spot where muscle clenched tight beneath sweat-damp skin. "Took me months to figure it out. You just gotta tighten these muscles, it's like... flexing your abs, but down here." He trusted his hips, forcing Chandler's trapped hand to ride the motion. The pink flesh emerging and disappearing like a shy creature, controlled entirely by Miles' unseen effort. "Kept waking up with cum all over my sheets 'cause I'd practice in my sleep."

Chandler's fingertips registered the deep, rippling tension—something beyond ordinary muscle, something specific—and suddenly, the mechanics clicked. "Oh my god," he breathed, eyes widening. "You're basically kegeling your dick."

Miles barked a laugh, loud enough to startle a nesting shearwater outside the cave. "The fuck kinda nerd knows what 'kegels' are?"

Cheeks blazing, Chandler yanked his hand back. "My dad's a physical therapist, asshole!"

Miles simply rolled his hips idly to keep his erection bobbing between them while grinning more broadly. "Whatever."

Chandler couldn't help but stare, not just at the size, but the mechanism of it. The way the loose skin moved like it had its own intelligence, sliding back to reveal the flushed, wet head before swallowing it whole again. He'd seen diagrams in health class, but those were sterile black-and-white cross-sections. This was alive. Miles' cock was breathing, pulsing, glistening, a living thing with its own wet sounds as clear semen smeared across the shaft in translucent streaks.

"You're... uncut," Chandler blurted, immediately cringing at how clinical it sounded.

Miles snorted, flicking his own foreskin with a fingertip. The sound was obscenely moist. "No shit, Sherlock." He reached out with his index finger and gently caught one of the slippery droplets that had formed at the tip. He looked over at Chandler as he brought the glistening droplet of pre-cum to his own mouth. He licked it off with a flick of his tongue, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. "Mm," he hummed in satisfaction before opening his eyes to lock gazes with the Smith boy.

"Hey, Chandler," he said casually, "You ever tasted your own boner juice before?"

Chandler's eyes went wide, his cheeks flushing even more than before. "N-No," he admitted in a small voice, his hand still frozen over his own burgeoning arousal. "I've never... I mean, I've never thought about doing that before."

"You should try it," Miles urged. "It's like... sweet and salty. And it's totally natural. Like the ocean." He took another lick, his eyes never leaving Chandler's. "How about you taste mine?"

The blonde boy's blue eyes grew round like saucers, filled with excitement as his heart was thundering in his chest. He nodded slowly, feeling the thrill of the moment wash over him. "Okay," he murmured, his voice shaky with anticipation.

Miles' finger hovered above Chandler's lips, glistening with his sweet pre-cum, and the blonde boy leaned in, his curiosity piqued. He took the digit into his mouth, tentatively flicking his tongue against the sticky fluid. The taste exploded across Chandler's palate—a shockingly complex blend of salt and something deeply organic, like the brine of the cove mixed with the faintest hint of copper. Underneath that was an unexpected sweetness, almost like diluted honey, but with a musky undertone that made Chandler's own cock twitch violently in his trunks. It was primal, intimate, and utterly unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

He found himself wanting more.

So he began sucking Miles' finger, savoring the essence of his friend's arousal as if it were a delicacy.

Miles chuckles softly at Chandler's eager response, watching as the blonde boy's eyes half-lidded and his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. "Looks like you're loving it," he teased, his green eyes dropping to the telltale bulge that was now clearly visible above the waistband of Chandler's trunks. The pink head of Chandler's circumcised cock was peeking out shyly, begging for attention.

"Someone's happy to see me," Miles said with a playful smirk, his hand moving to trace the outline of Chandler's erection through the fabric. "Why don't you show me what you've got, buddy?" He whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see how hard you can get for me. Fair's fair."

Chandler's breath hitched as Miles' pre-teen fingers brushed against his sensitive skin, and he felt a rush of heat to his face. He nodded, his eyes still closed as he took a deep breath to steady himself. Alright... here goes nothing,

With trembling hands, he fumbled with the strings of his trunks before pushing the fabric down, revealing his fully erect penis to the warm, salty breeze.

Chandler's circumcised cock stood rigid at 3.1 inches—a smooth, hairless shaft crowned by a perfectly round, pink head. The taut skin stretched tight over his modest erection, showing the veins beneath its delicate surface. Unlike Miles' hooded member, Chandler's was exposed entirely, the absence of foreskin giving it an innocent, almost vulnerable look that made Miles' mouth abruptly dry. A single glistening pearl of pre-cum balanced on its flushed tip, trembling as Chandler breathed shallowly through parted lips.

Heat flooded Chandler's cheeks as he stared at the undeniable difference. Miles' thick, veined cock seemed to dwarf his own slender erection. He instinctively hunched forward, trying to angle his hips away. "It's... smaller," he mumbled, the words catching in his throat like broken glass. He looks at Miles' proud display and back at his own modest length, shame tightening his chest. "Way smaller." He bit his lip, fighting the sudden sting in his eyes.

Miles frowned—not in disgust, but confusion.

He stepped closer, sand crunching underfoot. "Dude." He gripped his friend's shoulder, forcing eye contact. "You're comparing apples to fucking watermelons." His thumb swiped across Chandler's clavicle. "I'm the weird one here, remember? Five-inch dick at twelve? That's like..." He wrinkled his nose, searching for a comparison. "Like finding a fucking pearl in your clam chowder."

Chandler blinked. "What?"

"Never mind." Miles sighed. He looks at Chandler's exposed erection for a moment, studying it with an intensity that made the blonde boy's thighs tremble. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between them. Not with words, not with teasing... just action.

His arms encircled Chandler's shoulders, pressing their bare chests against each other. Where their skin connected, heat surged between them. Something split wide in Chandler's chest as their cocks touched, Miles' breath catching as his bigger, flushed shaft moved alongside Chandler's smaller, smoother one.

Miles' fingers dug into Chandler's shoulders with bruising force, causing both lads to gasp as their bare skin flushed against one another. Pre-cum smearing in slick, sticky trails between Chandler's tiny cock and Miles' broader length was an electrifying experience. The musky smell of arousal clinging to their heated skin, and, beneath it all, a warm intimate puff of Miles' breath carrying the unmistakable tang of garlic shrimp from their lunch, mixed with the faint, boyish sourness of unbrushed teeth—a remnant of their shared breakfast that mysteriously made Chandler's stomach clench with desire—all contributed to the blonde boy's whimper.

The scent, uniquely Miles Nichols—wild, a little unkempt, utterly masculine—flooded Chandler's senses. It shouldn't have been enticing, but knowing it came from Miles Nichols, the rebellious kid who often forgot his toothbrush, sent a bang of pure, illicit heat straight to Chandler's cock. His erection pulsed, the pink head glossy anew. The stink was primal, a raw signature of his friend's excitement, and it made Chandler dizzy with want.

"I—I love you, Miles," Chandler blurted, the words shuddering out between panting breaths as he rutted helplessly against his crush's hip, his voice cracking with pre-adolescent desperation.

In return, Miles gave the boy with poofy, curly golden hair a hard nip on the collarbone. He muttered, "Shut up," but his hips betrayed him by stuttering forward. As Chandler's hands fumbled down his back, nails scraping across sun-warmed skin, the raven-haired boy's typical swagger broke into something primal, his green eyes deepening.

Miles hated mush. Hated it.

And yet here he was, shivering like some sappy loser as Chandler's breath caught in his throat, their frenzied, clumsy grinding turning them both into quivering messes in the humid darkness of the cave.

With a raspy laugh that sounded more like a gasp, Miles broke first... of course he fucking did. He pushed Chandler back just enough to catch a glimpse of Chandler's throbbing pink boyhood standing erect between their bodies. "Oh my god," he wheezed, wiping sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. "You're so fucking hard for me. Like, obsessed. Pathetic." His flashed a wicked, toothy grin, but his own cock twitched visibly against Chandler's thigh, enjoying what he was seeing. "Bet you jerk off thinking about this, huh? Bet you—" His voice shattered. "Fuck."

Chandler barely had time to process the insult before Miles' spit hit his cock. The warm, wet glob landed directly on the flushed head. He gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily, only for Miles' fingers to close around him in a loose, slippery fist. The rough pads of Miles' fingertips dragged down Chandler's shaft, smearing the spit into a glistening sheen, and suddenly everything was too much.

"M-Miles—" Chandler's voice shredded into a gasp as his best friend's fingers tightened around him.

No one had ever touched him like this. Not his own fumbling middle-of-the-night experiments under the sheets, not the accidental brushes during gym class, no one. Miles' grip was all wrong, too dry where spit wasn't smeared, too tight where it should've been gentle, but Chandler's hips jackknifed into it anyway, his entire body convulsing like he'd been plugged into a live wire. Oh fuck... his hand is on my dick. Not mine... his. It feels so warm... so good,

"Quit squirming," Miles muttered, but there was no bite to it. His breath came fast and uneven against Chandler's shoulder, lips touching tan skin with every exhale. He adjusted his grip, curling his fingers just beneath the swollen head where Chandler's skin was smoothest, and suddenly... Holy shit, it was perfect. The motion dragged a whine from Chandler's throat, high-pitched and desperate, and Miles' smirk was audible. "Relax, dumbass. I gotchu." His thumb swiped across the leaking slit, spreading pre-cum in slow, deliberate circles. "Just let me..."

Chandler's vision blurred. Miles' face hovered inches away, green eyes gone dark and focused in a way Chandler had never seen before. The cave's dappled light caught in his messy black hair, turning the strands glossy as crow feathers. Sweat beaded along his upper lip, and Chandler's traitorous brain zeroed in on the way Miles' tongue darted out to lick it away—quick, restless, hungry. He looked feral. Beautiful.

As Miles massaged him with jerky, inexperienced strokes, Chandler's fingers pushed into his hips, blunt nails scraping against tanned flesh. "Y-You're..." The words turned into a moan when Miles twisted his wrist on the upstroke, a maneuver Chandler recognized from illustrations about "proper technique" in health class. Suddenly, something muskier, hotter, had them overpowered by the mineral aroma of the cave.

In the darkness, Miles' smile was a flash of white. "Yeah, Smith, I'm what?" With his free hand spread possessively across Chandler's tummy, he came in close enough for Chandler to taste the salt on his breath. "Say it."

Chandler's thoughts dispersed like minnows in shallow water when his thumb applied pressure on his pubic bone, which was present rather than painful. "You're—" The blonde's voice broke as Miles' fingers sped up, his rhythm turning erratic, too fast and rough, but it didn't matter because Miles was there, breathing hard against his neck. The blue-eyed Caucasian boy's stomach clenched. "You're s-so hot," he gasped, the admission bursting out like a dam breaking. "Fuck, fuck—Miles, I'm gonna—"

Miles tackled him before he could finish.

Sand sprayed up around them as Chandler hit the ground, Miles landing squarely on top with a grunt that vibrated through both their bodies. What the heck?

The raven-haired boy didn't pause, he hooked an arm under Chandler's back, hauling them chest-to-chest, his erection dragging against Chandler's in a slick, sticky slide that punched the air from Chandler's lungs.

"Not alone," Miles panted, hips jerking forward with uncoordinated urgency. His foreskin caught on Chandler's moist cockhead, pulling taut before slipping free with a wet sound that made them both shudder. "Fucking hate it... when people cum alone." He buried his face in Chandler's neck, teeth scraping skin. "You talkin' like that—hnng—like a fucking girl... makes me wanna bust all over you, you little—"

Chandler gripped Miles' shoulders and reflexively wrapped his legs around his waist, drawing him in until there was just heat, perspiration, and the constant grinding of Miles' cock against his own. Chandler could feel the dampness of his own arousal smearing between them and hear the obscene, wet sounds every time Miles moved forward. The sensation was overwhelming, as Miles' uncut length slid against him with a slickness that wasn't just pre-cum anymore.

"M-Miles," he choked out, fingers tangling in Miles' hair, tugging hard enough to make the other boy hiss. "Please... please—"

Miles retreated just enough to meet Chandler's stare, his aroused green eyes turning black. In the midst of their desperate rutting, one hand held Chandler's cheek, the rough pad of his thumb grazing the corner of Chandler's mouth in an unexpectedly sensitive gesture. "You like this, Chan-Chan?" Miles panted, hips never stopping their relentless motion. "Grinding on me bare? No stupid shorts in the way?" He punctuated the question with a sharp thrust, his cockhead catching Chandler's in a way that made both middle school aged boys gasp.

With a wild nod, Chandler lifted his own hips off the sand to match Miles' motions. "Y-Yes," he stumbled, and as Miles' thumb touched his bottom lip, the word faded into a whimper. "Gawd, yes... always... I always wanted you!"

Miles' laugh was breathless, uneven. "Knew it," he panted, his hips stuttering as he chased his own pleasure against Chandler's straining body. "Fucking knew you got all squirmy around me for a reason." He nipped at Chandler's earlobe, teeth catching the delicate skin just enough to make the blonde gasp. "All those times you'd freeze up when I talked about girls?" Another thrust, harder, messier, his foreskin dragging wetly over Chandler's exposed head. "Thought you were just some prissy virgin." His fingers tightened in Chandler's curls, yanking his head back to expose the pale column of his throat. "Turns out you're just gay for me."

Chandler's throat worked around a whimper, his fingers scrambling for purchase on Miles' back. Miles' cock sliding against his with a slick, sinful rhythm, his own orgasm coiling tight in his gut.

"Can't believe our punishment turned into this," Chandler breathed, his fingers scrabbling at the sand beneath them. His hips jerked up, chasing friction. "But what if... oh god... what if Keoni—?"

Miles slapped a hand over Chandler's mouth, muffling him mid-sentence.

"Shut up," he growled, but his eyes were glittering with mischief... the same look he got right before launching into one of his bullshit excuses. "If that Hawaiian beefcake does stumble in here, we tell him you got stung by a jellyfish. Right here." He jabbed two fingers into Chandler's neck, right below the jawline. "And I had to suck out the venom. Heroic. Tragic. Very PG-13."

Chandler shoved Miles' shoulder, still breathless. "You're terrible," he whispered, grinning despite himself. "Like, actually evil. Worse than Darius."

Miles' eyes darkened. "So you think I'm terrible, huh?" He leaned in, slow, deliberate, until Chandler could count the flecks of gold in his green irises. "I'll show you 'terrible'."

His lips parted slightly, and Chandler stiffened, the air freezing in his throat while his heart was pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. Is he... is he gonna kiss me? He thought with nervous excitement, thinking he's gonna receive a kiss from a boy he's been friends with since pre-K.

But at the last second, Miles changed course, and the next thing the Smith pre-teen knew, sharp teeth sank into the tender flesh where his neck met his shoulder. The pain was immediate, electric, a white-hot flare that melted instantly into molten pleasure. "AH, MILES! AAAAHH... OOOAAAHH... HAAHHH!" Chandler arched off the sand with a ragged cry, grasping at Miles' hair, legs locking tight around the rebellious boy's waist.

Miles sucked hard on the bruised skin, tongue pressing flat against the bite as he pulled back just enough to murmur against Chandler's damp neck: "Evil guys don't let their victims cum." His hand slid between their bodies, rough fingers wrapping around both their cocks, and squeezed.

Chandler's vision whited out. The dual sensations: Miles' mouth working fresh hickeys into his collarbone, their leaking lengths trapped in Miles' tight grip, sent sparks crackling up his spine. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan as Miles' thumb swiped through the mess of pre-cum smeared between them.

"See? There's the jellyfish sting," Miles gasped against Chandler's shoulder. His fingers tightened around their cocks, twisting in a way that made Chandler's toes curl into the sand. "You can call me evil you like, but your dick's dripping. Bet you'd let me do anything to you right now, baby."

Chandler froze mid-thrust. His legs, wrapped around Miles' waist, slackened slightly. "Did you just... Did you call me 'baby'?" The word was delicate, shimmering, and impossible to ignore as it lingered between them like a soap bubble. No guy had ever called him that, not even his father in half-remembered toddler years.

Miles recoiled like Chandler had spat in his face. His sweaty forehead wrinkled in exaggerated disgust. "The fuck?" He sniffed dramatically, squinting down at Chandler like he'd grown a second head. "Sunstroke's rotting your brain, dude. I said 'maybe'. As in; maybe you'd let me."

Miles doesn't like using pet names. In fact, Miles would mock couples who did so. Yet there it was, lurking beneath the familiar taunts and aggressive touches, something soft and unguarded that made Chandler's chest ache.

"You definitely said baby." Chandler's accusation came out breathless, ruined by the way Miles' thumb kept circling the sensitive ridge beneath his cockhead. "No guy's ever called me that... not even when I was three."

Miles scoffed, but his ears burned crimson. "Hallucinating. Heatstroke. Or maybe..." His smirk returned, sharp and familiar. "Maybe you wish I'd call you that, huh? Wanna be my little—"

Chandler clapped a hand over Miles' mouth before he could finish. "Shut up," Chandler hissed, but his voice wavered when Miles licked his palm just to watch him squirm. "God, you're insufferable."

Miles' grin turned feral. "Insufferable, huh?"

In one fluid motion, he rolled off Chandler entirely, leaving the blonde sprawled on the sand with his cock flushed and twitching. The sudden absence of heat was criminal. Chandler gasped at the loss. Fuck, Miles didn't even bother to hide the wet smear their dicks left on his stomach, and reached blindly for him. "Nuh-uh. Insufferable guys don't let whiny little blonds cum."

Chandler writhed, his hips lifting instinctively toward nothing. "Miles—"

"Say please." Miles' hand found Chandler's left nipple, pinching hard enough to make the blonde jerk. His thumbnail scraped over the pink bud in slow circles while his mouth descended on the right: lips first, then teeth.

Chandler's toes began to curl in his sandals as his raven-haired friend's bit down just shy of painful, the sensation radiating straight to his cock. Never in all 12 years of his life on earth had he felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so alive with sensation. He didn't need to be a genius to know Miles had been watching porn videos to master the performed acts. The cave's echo turned Chandler's moans into something lewd and desperate. Miles dragged his tongue over the abused nipple before blowing cool air across it, watching it pebble tighter. His fingers kept up their cruel rhythm on the other side: pinch, twist, release... until Chandler's thighs trembled and his breath came in punched-out gasps.

"Please," Chandler whined through pants, arching up only to be shoved back down by Miles' free hand planted on his sternum.

"Nope." Miles popped the word with relish, rolling his tongue over the tip of Chandler's pebbled nipple. His teeth skimmed the sensitive flesh, not biting (not yet), just ghosting enough to make Chandler squirm. "You called me 'insufferable'. You don't get to cum until you take it back."

Ugh, you JERK! Chandler's neglected cock wept against his stomach, sticky-wet where Miles' grip had left him. "Y-You are insufferable!" he gasped, yelping when Miles pinched both nipples simultaneously with sadistic precision. "Fuck! Okay, OKAY! You're... you're..." His brain short-circuited as Miles' knee accidentally brushed his erection. "Augh! You're... tolerable!"

Miles' cackle bounced off the cave walls. "Tolerable?" He grab his blonde friend's thighs, spreading them wider as he leaned in. His teeth closed around it with playful menace. "Try again."

The sharp sting-pleasure made Chandler's spine bow off the sand. "F-Fine! You're..." His words dissolved into a moan when Miles' knee slid between his thighs, applying just enough pressure to make his hips stutter. "You're amazing, alright? The best... ah! The best at this!"

Mid-bite, Miles froze. Like melting wax, his smile vanished. "At this?" Suddenly menacing, his voice dropped an octave. "What's 'this' exactly, Smith?" With a wet pop, he let go of Chandler's nipple and sat back on his heels, glaring down at the red-faced blonde. He continued to brutally force his knee against Chandler's quivering cock. "Be specific."

"Y-You know," Chandler stammered, gesturing weakly between their bodies. "This... stuff. The... the touching. And—"

Before he could finish, Miles tackled him. With a grunt that shook both of their bodies, Miles landed solidly on top of Chandler as the sand spewed all around them. With one arm hooked beneath the other Caucasian kid's body, Miles twisted him onto his stomach and pulled him up onto his hands and knees before the blonde lad could comprehend the motion.

"Say it again," Miles growled against the shell of Chandler's ear, his free hand sliding down Chandler's trembling abdomen. "Tell me I'm good at this." His fingers skimmed the underside of Chandler's neglected erection, making the younger boy whimper. "Or I stop."

With his ass brushing against Miles' still-hard cock from thrusting his hips, Chandler whimpered, "Y-you're... You're amazing at this! At t-touching me, a-at making me feel good."

Miles stood abruptly, hauling Chandler up by the wrist before the blonde could finish his sentence. Sand cascaded off their tangled limbs as the rebellious boy pushed his polar opposite onto unsteady feet. "Damn right I am," Miles said, brushing grit from Chandler's shoulders with uncharacteristic gentleness. His grin returned, sharp and knowing. "And good boys get rewards."

Chandler blinked up at him, lips parted. "R-rewards?"

"Yep," Miles replied, then asked, "Ever heard of docking?".

The unfamiliar word made Chandler's brow furrow. "Docking? Like... boats?"

Miles snickered at this question, loud enough to startle a nearby seagull into flight. God this kid is so... His fingers tightened on Chandler's hips, thumbs digging into the divots above his pelvic bone. "No, you suburban disaster," he said, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "This doesn't involve boats."

"Then... what is docking?" Chandler asked.

"Glad you asked," Miles kicked off his sandals in one swift motion. Sand sprayed Chandler's shins as Miles shoved his shorts down past his ankles with his thumbs, removing them completely. The midday sun painted his bare thighs golden, his erection bobbing slightly as he straightened.

"Your turn," He said, nodding at Chandler's own shorts.

Chandler he toed off his sandals, the straps catching stubbornly on his heels. His shorts followed, sticking briefly to damp skin before hitting the sand. The ocean breeze licked at his exposed thighs, making him shiver despite the heat. Miles didn't give him time to overthink it. He grabbed Chandler's wrist and pulled him closer until their bare chests made contact momentarily before parting. With his free hand, Miles peeled back his own foreskin, revealing the pink, bulbous tip. It looked bigger like this, glistening and swollen.

"Watch," Miles demonstrated, aligning Chandler's erection with his own. He began to work his pelvic muscles, his uncut cock moving in a mesmerizing dance against the Smith boy's exposed, circumcised tip. The two cocks slid against each other, the slickness of their pre-cum making the motion smoother, more erotic. Miles slowly rolled his own foreskin forward, enveloping both of them in a warm, tight sleeve of skin.

Chandler gasped; the feeling of his best friend's foreskin sliding against his own sensitive skin was overpowering, like being drawn into something wet and alive.

Miles grinned at his reaction, wiggling his eyebrows. "See? Docking. Like our dicks are French-kissing."

The blonde pre-teen's toes curled into the sand as his hips shook uncontrollably. The friction was intense, slippery, and incredibly personal, unlike anything he had ever experienced. With every tiny movement, Miles's foreskin stretched taut around them, forming a tight tunnel that pulsed. When Miles experimentally swayed his hips, sending waves of pleasure through their interconnected bodies, the other boy's respiration caught.

Ahh... AAAHH~ G-God! My body feels like heaven... He thought with absolute bliss. His cock head, it's... it's making mine so tingly. So much better than just a hand job. I feel like... like I'm gonna cum soon, Their boy dicks kept sliding against each other, more pre-cum mixing and lubricating the way. A symphony of sensations washed over them like the waves of the ocean. Chandler's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' of pleasure.

The sound of the waves grew distant, replaced by the rhythmic slap of their bodies meeting, their breaths mingling in the salty tropical air. Miles' breath grew hotter, heavier, and when it hit Chandler's nose, even the faint scent of boyish stench added to the intensity of the moment, making every nerve in his cock sing with pleasure.

"F-Fuck," Chandler stammered, feeling his cock swell even more, the pleasure building within him. His hands fluttering uselessly at his sides before gripping Miles' shoulders for balance. "It's... it's so—"

"Told you, dude," Miles interrupted, sounding smug despite the breathlessness in his voice. His free hand clung itself onto Chandler's hips, steadying them as he increased the pace. The rhythmic motion made Chandler's vision blur at the edges. "You like feeling our cocks making out? Imagine doing this under the bleachers during lunch," Miles added. "Or in the janitor's closet after gym. Fuck, Chan-Chan... you'd be so quiet, biting your lip like you are now..."

Chandler's legs felt like jelly as he braced himself, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensation of their cocks sliding together became almost too much to handle. "Oooohh... Ooohhh... Oh yeah... our cocks making out... it feels so good, Miles," he moaned, high-pitched with pleasure.

Miles smirked, his hips rolling as he continued to glide his cock along Chandler's. Heh... I knew you'd like it, man, His docking grew more deliberate, the friction between them sending sparks of pleasure shooting through their bodies. The tingly sensation grew stronger with each movement, their pre-cum mixing to create a slippery dance that had them both on the edge of a cliff, ready to tumble into the abyss of ecstasy.

The two 6th graders knew they weren't going to last long. The feeling was too intense, the desire too overwhelming. Their breaths grew ragged, their hearts pounding in a symphony of passion. They could feel themselves getting closer to the edge with every stroke, every gasp. It was inevitable; the dam was going to burst, and they would both be swept away in the flood of pleasure. They were on the precipice, ready to take that leap into the unknown, hand in hand, cock to cock, heart to racing heart.

"Aaahh... Ah fuck, Miles," Chandler breathed out, urgency and desperation combined in his voice. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt the tension in his balls coil tighter. "I'm... I'm gonna cum if we keep this up."

Miles' grin was wild, his hips rolling faster, their cocks sliding wet and messy inside his foreskin in a dance of pre-pubescent lust. "Good," he growled, rough and uneven. "That's the fucking point, Chan-Chan." He pulls him closer, forcing their dicks to grind harder, faster. "Nut with me. Like nasty little boys do."

Chandler's thighs trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Miles' cock pulsed against his, hot and twitching inside that slick, tight sleeve of skin. His toes curled into the sand, his fingernails scraping against Miles' shoulders as he clung to him, desperate for something to anchor himself against the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to drown him.

"AAAHHH FFFUUUUUCKK," Chandler groaned. "I-I'm getting close, Miles."

"Haah... me too. Come on," Miles panted. "Do it. Cum with me." His voice cracked on the last word, betraying his own desperation. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm as pleasure overtook him too. "Aahh... AAAAAHHHH! SHIT!"

Miles quickly pulled apart their docking cock flesh, exposing Chandler's twitching dick to the cool sea breeze before wrapping his fist around both of them: one large, uncut cock nestled against one smaller, circumcised one. Chandler whimpered at the sudden friction change, his body shaking uncontrollably. Then Miles' grip tightened and—

SPLURT! SPLOOSH! SPLAT!

Miles' orgasm hit first, erupting in thick, pearly ropes that arced through the air. One spurt hit Chandler's collarbone, another landed in the sand between their bare feet, the final pulse splattering across Miles' own quivering thigh. Chandler watched, mesmerized, as Miles' cock continued twitching in his fist, each pulse sending another hot stripe across their skin. His own release came differently... a slow, continuous ooze that dribbled from his tip, coating Miles' fingers in warm stickiness that mixed with his friend's thicker load.

"Ooohhh... Ohhh fuck..." Chandler gasped, knees buckling as the last tremors of pleasure wracked his smaller frame. Miles caught him by the waist, both boys panting like they'd run a marathon, their cum-streaked bodies pressed together in the aftermath.

Miles grinned, licking a stray drop of Chandler's cum off his thumb with exaggerated relish. "Told you docking was better than boats." His laughter bounced off the cave walls as Chandler weakly swatted at him, still too dazed to form a proper comeback.

The aftermath should've been awkward. Twelve-year-olds weren't supposed to know each other's bodies this way—not when Chandler still had baby fat rounding his cheeks, not when Miles' voice cracked mid-taunt about Chandler's "whale noises" during climax. Yet here they were: Chandler's cum cooling on Miles' fingers, the raven-haired boy's load streaking the blonde boy's stomach, both of them panting like they'd outrun a stampede. Any annoying conservative would definitely label this as "sinful" and "inappropriate", but frankly neither boy gave a damn—the experience felt too natural to be wrong.

Miles wiped his messy hand on Chandler's thigh like a napkin, grinning at the indignant squawk it earned. "Dude. We're like junior porn stars." His grin widened at Chandler's confused blink. "Y'know, those guys my mom's friends would whisper about when they think we're not listening." He mimed jerking off with exaggerated thrusts, tongue lolling obscenely until Chandler kicked sand at him.

Breath still hitching, Chandler eyed the pearly strands arcing from his sternum to navel. Miles' eruption had painted them both like abstract art. "H-How..." A gulp. "How can yours shoot so high?" His fingers ghosted over the sticky mess, tracing the trajectory like a scientist documenting lava flow. "Mine just... leaks." The admission burned worse than sunburn. He'd seen enough middle school locker room rumors to know "real men" didn't dribble like broken faucets.

Miles preened, thumbing cum from Chandler's collarbone to lick it off with theatrical moaning. "Practice, virgin." His smirk faltered when Chandler flinched at the label. "Okay, look..." He sighed and grabbed Chandler's wrist, pressing their palms together. "Yours is like... volcano steam. Mine's full-blown eruption. Doesn't mean yours won't blow later. And yeah, dumbass. You'll shoot geysers eventually. Just gotta practice a lot like I did."

Chandler glanced down at their intertwined fingers, both covered with drying cum, and found himself grinning back despite himself.

Miles smeared his own semen off Chandler's collarbone with his index finger, the white strand stretching like melted mozzarella before breaking. He held it up between them, glistening under the cave's filtered light. "Open up, Chan-Chan," he teased, wiggling the finger.

After a brief pause that allowed Miles to grin, Chandler lunged forward and sucked the digit into his mouth out of sheer hunger. He whimpered as his tongue twirl around the knuckle, lapping at the strange saltiness. The limp cock belonging to the nerd of the duo twitch as Miles tastes like beach spray and something muskier, warm and primordial. Desperate not to waste a single drop, he sucked harder, his lips tightly pursuing the flavor.

"Fuck, you're—"

"See? Docking. Like our dicks are French-kissing." The recorded voice cut through the cave.

Chandler froze. It sounded like... Miles' voice. Then his own stammering reply followed. "F-Fuck... It's... it's so—"

"Told you, dude," Miles' recorded voice was heard again.

The said pre-teen ripped his finger from Chandler's mouth. "What the fuck?"

"SHIT!"

Both boys whipped their heads toward the cave's wall where a fist-sized hole let in a sliver of daylight. From it came the unmistakable sound of sandals scraping lava rock, then a hissed "Fucking volume—!" before a seagull's startled squawk cut through the air.

The thud was catastrophic: a full-body collapse onto sharp coral gravel. Chandler reacted first, bolting from the cave with Miles close behind, their bare feet kicking up sand. They've completely forgotten that they're no longer in shorts.

The two twelve year olds couldn't believe what... or who... they've stumbled upon once they've made it outside. Laying sprawled on his back, phone now laying in the sand inches away from his hand, screen cracked but visible recording... was none of than—

"KEONI?!"

The Polynesian young man groaned, rubbing his forehead where a fresh bruise was already purpling. His phone lay face-up in the sand, the cracked screen still displaying their grainy cave footage of the boys docking their cocks literally minutes ago. The audio hissed with wet, sticky sounds neither boy could deny.

"Shit! Shit! SHIT!" Keoni scrambled for his phone, but Miles was already pouncing like a feral cat, his bare feet kicking up sand as he snatched the cracked device mid-air.

Chandler meanwhile stood frozen, his cum-streaked stomach rising and falling rapidly as the realization hit: Keoni Palakiko, their goddamn lifeguard, had been crouched outside the cave filming them like some creepy wildlife documentary. The phone screen flickered, still playing the unmistakable sounds of Chandler's high-pitched moans mingling with Miles' growls.

"NO! Give it fucking BACK!" Keoni lunged, his muscular frame blocking the sun as he swiped at the phone. Miles twisted away with a feral grin, his thumb jamming the stop button just as Chandler's recorded voice cried out, "Aaahh... Ah fuck, Miles—".

The smirk Miles flashed was pure gasoline. "Ohhh... Well, well, Palakiko," he sing-songed, dangling the phone just beyond the lifeguard's reach. His bare toes dug into the sand like claws. "You wanna explain why Mr. 'Safety First' was filming two little middle school boys while nobody was out here watching?" He jerked the phone higher as Keoni lunged again. "And don't say 'educational purposes.' I know what I jerk off to."

The older boy's bronze skin flushed burgundy. "I wasn't... that wasn't—!" His hand twitched toward the radio clipped to his hip. "I was documenting vandalism! You little shits left smoke bomb shrapnel all over—"

"Bull-fucking-SHIT." Miles isn't having none of whatever ridiculous story Keoni tries to come up. He stabbed a finger at the frozen video frame: two blurry, nude torsos pressed together, Chandler's curly blonde head tipped back in ecstasy. "This your idea of evidence? 'Oh yes Officer, I had to zoom in on their dicks to prove they're trespassing'?"

Keoni's breath hitched—not from exertion, but from the truth clawing up his throat.

The real "vandalism" was what his browser history screamed nightly: deleted tabs of smooth-chested boys playing shirtless basketball, cached images of middle school swim teams, the way his pulse spiked whenever his lifeguard shifts overlapped with field trips. 19 years of age with a college scholarship and a lifeguard certification, yet his dick hardened for knobby knees and cracking voices. Worst were the private videos he took: zoomed shots of changing room doors left ajar, locker room steam distorting but not hiding the giggles of boys who didn't know they were being hunted.

Keoni had been patrolling the beach when he spotted the abandoned trash bags, tell-tale signs of the boys' absence, and followed the scattered sandal prints leading toward the cave. The distant echo of Chandler's sharp cry had his lifeguard instincts kicking in ("What if they're hurt?"), but the moment he peered through the crevice, his breath caught. There they were: Miles' uncut cock pressed flush against Chandler's smaller one in that slick, intimate docking motion, their pre-teen bodies trembling with pleasure.

His fingers trembled too—not from concern now, but from the illicit thrill crawling up his spine as he fumbled for his phone, zooming in until the screen filled with glistening boy-flesh and their desperate moans drowned out the crashing waves... that is until the the video he finished recording was blasting at high volume, and the damn seagull that invaded his space wasn't any help.

Now here he is, lying in the body of sand, caught red-handed by two victims of his pedophilic voyeurism. His fingers twitched toward his radio again, but Miles danced backward, bare ass gleaming in the sunlight as he brandished the phone like a weapon.

"What else do you got on your phone? I know how you pedophiles operate," Miles sneered, ignoring Keoni's frantic lunges as he swiped through the cracked phone's gallery. Chandler hovered nearby, shifting his weight from foot to foot in nervous anticipation. The Nichols boy's smirk faltered when he scrolled past a folder labeled "Beach Patrol" and found something infinitely worse than smoke bomb evidence.

"Whoa—whoa, what the fuck?" Miles muttered.

"What? What is it?" asked Chandler.

The dark-haired boy didn't answer as he kept thumbing through grainy videos of boys, all pre-teens from their school, some younger. Shirtless boys wrestling in the sand... close-ups of their torsos glistening with seawater, slow pans down skinny legs, zoomed-in shots of wet swim trunks clinging to barely-there bulges. But

But the worst was the video labeled "H. Cove 7/14": Darius, sprawled drunkenly on a rock, his flushed face slack with intoxication while Joey, one of his gang members, knelt between his legs with lips wrapped around Darius' cock.

Chandler's mouth dropped. "Is that—?"

"Darius getting his dick sucked... by Joey?" Miles grinned, all teeth. "Ooooh, this is fucking gold." He thrust the phone toward Chandler, who recoiled at the sight of their bully's slack-jawed pleasure, Joey's cheeks hollowing around Darius' length in a way that suggested drunken desperation, not mutual affection.

Keoni made a strangled noise. "Delete that! That's... that's private!" His fingers twitched toward his radio again, but Miles danced backward, his own spent cock bounced as he brandished the phone like a weapon.

"Private?" He barked out a laugh sharp as coral. "Like how you filmed two underage kids private?" His thumb swiped across the cracked screen, enlarging the video thumbnail of Darius' drunken face slack with pleasure. "Guess what's not private anymore, pedo?"

Keoni's breath stuttered. His knees hit the sand with a dull thud. "Please," he croaked, hands outstretched like a supplicant. "My family... my scholarship..." He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. Nineteen years of carefully constructed respectability crumbling because he couldn't stop zooming in on knobby knees and cracking voices. "I know it's fucked up. But when I see you kids... your smooth skin, the way you laugh without thinking... I-I can't help it. Please, I'll be disowned... I'll lose everything. The university will—"

"Shoulda thought about that before you filmed my best friend's dick, creeper." Miles replied. He dangled the phone just beyond Keoni's reach, watching the older boy's fingers twitch uselessly. Then, like flipping a switch, his expression shifted... calculating. "Unless..."

Chandler frowned. He knew that look. Last time Miles wore it, look at where that got them. "Miles, no—"

"How about," The rebellious of the duo continued, ignoring Chandler's warning, "you air-drop me that video of Darius getting his tiny dick sucked, and I don't forward your little boy collection to the cops?" He crouched until they were eye-level, close enough to smell the salt and desperation rolling off Keoni. "You get to keep your sad little life, and I get to make Darius eat his own balls. Win-win."

Keoni's nostrils flared. His gaze darted between Miles' outstretched hand and Chandler's horrified expression. "You... you swear on your mom's life you'll really keep quiet?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Dude, I steal my dad's golf cart weekly. You think I care about oaths? But yeah, sure. Scout's honor." His grin widened at Keoni's flinch. "Besides, who'd believe it came from you? Everyone knows Darius Maddox hates my guts. Way more fun if he thinks I caught him blowing Joey behind the rocks."

A shudder ran through Keoni's frame. Miles leaned in, his next words a whisper that sent crabs scuttling for cover: "Or I could just yell 'pedophile' really loud right now. Bet lifeguards lose their jobs faster than you can say 'registered sex offender.'"

Finally, the lifeguard gave a jerky nod, giving Miles permission. The pre-teen grinned, tapping rapidly on the cracked screen.

Back at his house, locked tight in a box in his parents' closet as punishment, Miles' battered Apple iPhone lit up with the grainy footage.

The rowdy boy whooped, punching the air. "Ohhh, can't wait for this month to be over. Darius is so fucked!" He spun toward Chandler, his green eyes alight. "Imagine his face when this plays on the school PA system!"

"Wait—" Keoni lurched forward, but Miles was already dancing backward, the phone clutched to his bare chest like a trophy. "You promised! You said—"

"I said I wouldn't tell anyone you filmed it," Miles corrected, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His erection, half-hard again from adrenaline, bobbed obscenely. "Darius'll just think it was me. Which, honestly?" He smirked. "Way more believable. Nobody'd buy that a creepy lifeguard caught him getting his dick sucked."

Keoni made a noise like a stepped-on seagull. Chandler, meanwhile, was busy calculating how many ways this could backfire. His voice came out strangled: "Miles... what if Darius tells your parents? Or... or the principal?"

Miles snorted. "And admit he let Joey suck him off? Please! Darius would rather eat his own shit than admit that."

Chandler's mouth open to protest. However, his throat bobbed as he gulped hard when he saw Keoni's dark-brown eyes fixed on Miles' exposed 5-inch uncircumcised underage cock. In his red lifeguard shorts, the 19-year-old's own erection (which was definitely larger than Miles') was now protruding obscenely, the cloth straining against a thickness that made Chandler's stomach turn. His closest friend also took note. With a sly smile, Miles turned to face Keoni and casually stroked his own cock, thumbing the foreskin back and forth until it flickered back to life, dark pink against his tanned abdomen.

Chandler gasped for air. He had forgotten that Keoni was fully clothed and they were still naked from the waist down. He should have been afraid of the disparity in power. Instead, heat pooled low in his belly as Miles leaned into the older boy's space, his voice dripping mischief: "Since you let me airdrop that video... guess your reward's getting the real thing with two young boys, huh?"

The lifeguard's eyes darted from Miles' arrogant smile to Chandler's shaking body, his Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy in choppy waters. "Are you serious? You're... you're not bothered that I'm... that I was watching?"

Miles shrugged, rolling his index finger over the flushed head of his cock inside the foreskin in a lazy circle that made Chandler almost drool. "Dude, I let my cousin Brianna motorboat with my dick when she was home from college and stayed in my room last Christmas." He grinned at his curly-haired friend's choked noise, adding, "Yep. She said I had the biggest dick of any freshman boy she'd ever seen. Made me cum between her tits three times before our family woke up."

To say that Chandler was genially shocked would be an understatement. Brianna Fuller... a tall, college-aged gal with her bleached-blonde hair, silk-pressed with bangs, and belly-button ring who always wore cutoff shorts so short Miles complained about 'seeing butt cheek when she bends over'.

First Miles told him this transfer male student at the gym showers, now he's hearing what he engaged in with his older cousin? This made Chandler wonder: How many people had touched Miles? How many got to taste him, choke on him, swallow him whole while Chandler spent nights pressing his face into sweat-damp pillows trying not to moan his best friend's name?

Keoni's exhale shuddered through clenched teeth. "Christ, kid... you're fucking thirteen." But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Miles' thickening length, the way pre-cum was leaking from the slit when the pre-teen starts tugging his foreskin back.

"Twelve, since last month," Miles corrected, rocking onto his heels with a smirk. His emerald orbs raked over Keoni's bulging crotch area of his shorts, the obvious outline of an adult erection that made Chandler's mouth go dry. "Damn... you're packing. You'll definitely be fucking my brains out." He licked his lips, his face written with curiosity rather than fear. "Chan-Chan here's too chicken though,"

"MILES!" Chandler yelled, offended.

"What?" Miles turned, cock bobbing with the movement, utterly unselfconscious. "Look at him." He gestured at Keoni with the same casual indifference as pointing out a cool cloud. "Jet-black hair, side-swept like some fuckboy model... and that tan?" He whistled low, thumb rubbing absently at his own leaking slit. "Dude's built like Coach Kawena fucked a Greek statue. Come on, Chan-Chan. You can't keep chickening out every time a hot guy stares at you. There's no one out here but the three of us. You let me be your first boy. Won't kill you to let Keoni be your first man."

That was when Chandler began to notice what he hadn't really noticed before. Keoni's dark eyes burned with something feral beneath thick lashes. His jawline could've cut glass, shadowed with stubble that made Miles' prepubescent smoothness seem laughably juvenile in comparison. And his shoulders... Damn, his shoulders, tapered into a waist barely concealed by that stupid red lifeguard buckle, thighs thick enough to crush watermelon. The bulge twitched under Chandler's scrutiny, and his own pre-teen erection, 3.1 inches max and embarrassingly pink, gave a traitorous pulse against his thigh.

Miles' fingers snapped mid-air, right in Chandler's vision line. "Earth to Chan-Chan," he teased. "Your dick's nodding 'yes' so hard I'm surprised it hasn't launched into orbit." He jabbed a pointed finger toward the Smith boy's throbbing penis. "Look at that little guy! Practically saluting like 'ohhhh, yes please, sir, wreck my tight pre-teen hole!'" Miles waggled his eyebrows. "It's talking, Chan. Listen to your dick. It's smarter than you."

Chandler's face burned hotter than asphalt in August. His cock twitched again, leaking a shiny pearl of pre-cum. "F-fine," he admitted. "I... I think he's hot too. But this is—"

Keoni's hand clamped over the Caucasian boy's mouth before he could say 'illegal'. The lifeguard's palm smelled like zinc sunscreen and coconut oil. "Shhh," he hissed. His other hand trailed down Chandler's abdomen, pausing just above the twitching mess of his erection. "Just tell me what you want, little boy. I can show you things, help you understand more about what you're feeling."

The youngster whimpered against Keoni's palm.

"Use your words," Miles taunted from behind Keoni, suddenly pressed flush against the lifeguard's back, his smaller hands roaming shamelessly over Keoni's lifeguard shorts. "Or don't. Honestly? Watching you squirm's kinda hot."

Keoni shuddered, his grip tightening reflexively around Chandler's 3.1 inch boner. The boy's gasp punched out of him like a deflating balloon, before forcing himself to ease up. "Sorry," he rasped, thumb swiping apologetically over Chandler's leaking slit. "Forgot how... small you kids are."

Chandler's hips twitched. "S'okay," he lied. His fingers tore at Keoni's wrist, anchoring himself as the older boy's rough palm swallowed him entirely, rather than trying to draw away. The contrast was striking: Chandler's untested flesh was encircled by Keoni's sun-leathered lifeguard hands, rough from lifting drowning tourists and reef-scraped knees, like some perverse coming-of-age ritual.

Keoni chuckled a dark and indulgent chuckle, and gets on his feet while gently lifting the boy up from under his thighs, the blonde boy instinctively wrapping his legs around the adult's waist for support. Chandler gasped when Keoni resumed stroking his erection with one hand while the other supported his weight.

"You like that, kid?" Keoni murmured against his hair, and Chandler bit his lip, nodding mutely, then gasped softly when Keoni leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, sucking lightly at the skin there. "Mmm... you taste like salt and sunscreen," the young pedophile mused, laving his tongue over the spot.

Chandler shuddered not only from the feeling but also from Keoni's subtle, possessive grip on his hip and the way his breath caught as the sixth grader wriggled against him.

"You sure you're okay with me joining y—" Keoni's question died in a gasp as Miles yanked the his shorts down past his hips with a snicker. The red fabric caught on the young man's thighs, exposing his 6 inch of thick, circumcised Polynesian cock that curved proudly upward, the head flushed thick red against golden skin. Keoni wasn't just bigger, he was different. Miles' strange ridges and unnatural heat had nothing on the sheer, intimidating maleness of Keoni's erection veins standing in stark relief along its length.

The sudden exposure seemed to stun Keoni for half a second, his grip on Chandler loosening just enough for Miles to get in front of them and wedge himself between them, pressing Chandler against the older boy's chest while Miles grinned up at Keoni with mischief dancing in his green eyes. "Oops," Miles drawled, deliberately brushing his fingers along Keoni's length, making the lifeguard groan through clenched teeth. "Looks like lifeguards don't wear underwear. Good to know."

Chandler's breath caught as he was trapped between them, Keoni's cock pressing against his lower back while Miles' smaller hands roamed shamelessly over both of them, one teasing Chandler's nipple, the other wrapping around Keoni's shaft with bold familiarity.

"Relax, Chan-Chan," the 12-year-old troublemaker purred, pressing a messy kiss to the blonde's shoulder. "Keoni here's not gonna bite... unless you ask real nice."

Keoni exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around Chandler's waist, not restraining, not dominating, but holding, like he wasn't sure whether to push them both away or drag them closer, his own chest rising and falling unevenly. "Fuck," he muttered finally, voice wrecked already. "You two are gonna kill me."

Miles let out an unrepentant laugh and squeezed Keoni's cock in his fist. "Nah," he corrected. "We're gonna make you thank us."

The Palakiko teen looked around for any signs of movement further down the beach before murmuring, "We should move inside the cave, just in case anyone spots us." He carefully set Chandler down and remove his shorts completely off his ankles and places them over his broad shoulder. "Sand fleas'll breed in your clothes out here."

"Yeah yeah, parental instincts kicking in," Miles teased as Keoni nudged them toward the cave's shadowed mouth, his fingers lingering a second too long on Chandler's hip.

...