It was Saturday morning and Ricky had a hard-on. At his age this was more or less his default condition, but today his horniness was worse than usual. And he knew exactly why: he'd been saving it since Monday to build up some spunk and some real horniness, for a major wank at the weekend. It was an experiment; he hadn't done it before, but he'd felt like trying it out. It had not been easy, and it had got increasingly difficult as the days had passed; he'd almost caved in yesterday, but he'd forced himself to last out another day.
And today was Saturday. He lay in bed, his mind providing images of hot boys as he stared unseeingly at the white ceiling. The images stopped at Declan, the boy from number 22, over the road. He was gorgeous. Curly blond hair, fit body, eyes you could get lost in, and a smile that sent shivers through Ricky. Yes. Declan.
He turned onto his side, pulled the duvet up over his head and took his hard cock in his hand. This was going to be an epic wank, and he was going to try to make it last longer than the usual ten seconds. Very slowly he began to stroke himself.
"Ricky! Breakfast!"
Huh? It was only eight o'clock. Breakfast wasn't for another half hour. He sighed, and pulled his head out of the duvet. "It's only eight!" He shouted back.
"I know." His mother sounded harassed. "I've got to clean up – your uncle Barry's coming later. Get up. Now."
Bollocks. Reluctantly he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. His cock refused to go soft.
His hard-on persisted all through breakfast and it was difficult to hide it as he stood up and took the dishes to the sink. It only began to subside when he took the dog's lead off its hook. Fred was already at his feet waiting for his morning walk, ears flopping, white paws dancing on the carpet. "Come on then, Fred." The beagle was through the front door before it was halfway open.
As ever on a Saturday morning, the park was busy – mainly with joggers, other dog-walkers, and a few older people taking the air. Ricky bent down and let Fred off the lead once they were through the gates and smiled as he watched him rush away at high speed to do his business off the path and into the bushes. In this respect he was a very convenient dog: it was always well out of sight and Ricky didn't have to go clear it up.
Ricky walked leisurely down the main path, nodding and chatting to the regulars, giving small treats to their dogs. Fred came and went, intent on his own adventures. It was a sunny morning, Ricky was glowing with horniness, and all was well with the world.
It was rare for him to see anybody he fancied in the park, but as he approached the fountain he stopped and stared. Sitting on the stone steps, eating a sandwich, was a vision. Early twenties, fit, muscles, in a tight blue tank top and even tighter blue running shorts. Oh fuck, thought Ricky, as he felt his cock hardening again.
The guy finished his sandwich, wiped his hands on his shorts and stood up. He looked even more delicious. Then he set off towards the boy.
Ricky's mouth was hanging open as the guy went past – the bulge in those blue shorts was eye-watering, swinging from side to side between those muscular moving thighs. He flashed Ricky a gorgeous smile as he jogged slowly past. Ricky turned to watch him, praying that he'd look back, but he didn't.
The rest of the walk had to be conducted carefully so as to hide the erection in his jeans.
Back at home Ricky set off up the stairs his bedroom. He was even more horny now than he had been earlier and he wanted to have that wank while the image of the sexy jogger was fresh in his mind.
"Ok. You ready to start?"
Ricky's father was standing outside the kitchen brandishing a hammer. Oh fuck – he'd forgotten: he was supposed to be helping to mend the garage roof this morning.
"Erm… Yeah. Give me half an hour?" Ricky badly needed that wank.
"Rather make a start now. I've got to sort out the car insurance later."
Fuck. "Ok." Ricky turned and went back down the stairs, trying to keep the bulge in his jeans out of sight.
Replacing the corrugated plastic sheet on the garage roof didn't take that long, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he helped to put the ladder away. Oh fuck, he was so damn horny.
"Ricky love,"
His hand had just made contact with the stair rail. "What?"
His mother was holding a full basket of washing. "Would you be a dear and hang this out for me please? Barry'll be here soon and I need to go to the shops."
"Aww mum. Does it have to be right now?"
"Yes. Please."
Ricky sighed. He took the basket and headed out to the washing line in the back garden. Uncle Barry was no problem – he'd keep mother and father talking in the living room for hours. That was, as long as he didn't bring the Sprog with him. The Sprog's real name was Henry. He was Barry's son, and a right pain in the arse. Ricky had no idea how old he was, but in his opinion he should never have been allowed to get that far. He was a four-foot-tall disaster area: he never stopped moving – his legs were a constant blur – and he was into everything. Things had to be put out of sight or they were likely to be broken, hidden, or otherwise interfered with. Please God, Ricky thought as he hung the pillow cases on the line as quickly as he could, let Barry be on his own.
This time he actually made it to his bedroom door before his father called up again. "Ricky, can you mow the lawn please?"
"Oh dad! Not now. I got stuff to do."
"Well it'll have to wait. You said you'd do it last week and you didn't. Get it done please."
Ricky balled his hands into fists and silently screamed. His cock was rock-hard and he needed to cum very badly indeed. He turned around, stomped down the stairs and into the garden.
He hated mowing the lawn. As he pushed the machine up and down the grass his mind was on sex. That jogger in the park for a start. Or Declan from over the road. Or that beautiful guy he'd seen on the net yesterday. Yeah, he'd look that one up again.
It was done. He jammed the mower back into the shed and legged it up to his bedroom. With a breath of relief he closed the door, took his jeans and boxers off, and jumped onto the bed. He fired up his phone.
There was no internet. Oh for fuck's sake. The router must be down again. As if on cue his father's voice came from the bottom of the stairs. "Ricky, I need the internet and it's down again. Could you look at it please?"
Without bothering with his boxers, he pulled his jeans back on and raced downstairs.
The router was hidden behind the television and was difficult to get at because the wires were too short for it to be put in a better place. He felt around for the power button and switched it off, then counted quickly to fifteen and turned it on. Nothing. Fuck. He hadn't waited long enough. He went through the procedure again, this time counting more slowly, and to thirty. He pressed the button and waited for the lights to come on. They didn't.
Aaaargh. He felt around behind the unit to check that the plug was in. It was. Ok, so the power supply thingy must have come out of the socket. Probably Fred chasing one of his toys. Getting to the power sockets necessitated moving the TV away from the wall and shuffling forward on his stomach to get under the shelf. Yeah, it halfway out. He stretched so he could reach it and pushed it in more firmly.
His father was watching him so he had to surreptitiously rearrange his hard cock into a slightly less-obvious position before he stood up. He switched the router on and this time the lights began to flicker.
"Done. Fred again."
There was a knock as he was passing the front door. Ricky opened it – and stared. It was Declan from across the road. White hoodie and trainers, blond hair a sexy mess, and wearing the tightest jeans Ricky had ever seen in his life. Declan never wore tight jeans, at least he never had before. Ricky's eyes were riveted to the boy's thighs.
Declan smiled, and the world was suddenly golden. Ricky's legs went weak. "Hi Ricky. This is for your mum, from mine. She asked her to let her have a recipe for something or other." He was holding out a folded sheet of paper.
"Er – Oh. Ok." Ricky smiled back and took the paper. He wanted to lick Declan all over. "Will do. And thanks."
The boy's firm, round, tight-jeaned bum tilted from side to side as he walked back across the road and Ricky thought he was going to burst. He shut the door, leaned against it and closed his eyes. He groaned. Oh fuck, that boy was delicious.
He dropped the recipe on the kitchen table and then, with the image of Declan fresh in his mind he bolted for the stairs. Shit, he needed to have a pee first. Peeing with an erection is not easy, but he managed it eventually.
On the bed, zip open, eyes closed, hard cock in hand. He made it to the first two strokes. The bedroom door burst open.
"Whee!" The Sprog landed on top of his feet and started to pummel them, making the bed wobble alarmingly on its rickety legs. "Whatcha doing?"
Fuck fuck fuck.
"Get off me!" Ricky covered himself and jumped off, turning his back to the boy and ramming his cock back inside his jeans. "Get out of my room, Sprog. Now! I'm busy."
"Na na na!" The boy jumped off the bed and tore around the room. He came to a stop at the computer. "Got any new games?"
"No. Go away." Ricky grabbed him, marched him out of the bedroom, and slammed the door, wishing there were a lock on it. Small feet stamped noisily down the stairs.
Ricky sighed; he couldn't have a wank now in case the Sprog came back. Or could he? He picked up his computer chair and jammed it under the door handle. That would keep the little bastard out.
Back on the bed. It moved as he got on. Those legs need tightening, he thought.
"Ricky! You're uncle's here. Come down and say hello."
Ricky beat his fists on the duvet. Right. Ok. Fuming, he removed the chair and stomped out of the bedroom. And he was buggered if he was going to hide the fact that he had a hard-on from anybody. Then he thought better of that and repositioned it as best he could, but there wasn't really anywhere for it to go.
He kept his hands as low as possible as he helped to set the table, but with them full of plates he knew he wasn't hiding anything. Luckily nobody seemed to notice.
Dinner provided a little relief, and halfway through the roast beef he realised that for the first time that day his cock was actually soft.
His mother made it clear that he had to stay downstairs and be sociable with the visitors, and the afternoon dragged on.
It was starting to get dark outside when Barry and the Sprog left, and then it was time to take Fred out for his evening walk. At least, thought Ricky, the park was always empty at this time of the day.
Fred darted off as usual and Ricky ambled down the path, his cock stiffening with each step as his mind refused to think of anything but Declan, his erection being gently rubbed by his jeans as he walked. He still had no underpants on and he liked the unusual feeling a lot.
The fountain was as far as he went on the evening walks, and as he turned around to start back he thought about the sexy jogger from this morning. He wondered where the guy lived – couldn't be far away, though he'd never seen him in the park before today.
Right. Home, and then he was going to have that wank. There would be no more obstacles. He'd done everything his parents could reasonably expect him to do; he was going to go straight up to his bedroom, close the door, and have that fucking wank.
"Fred?" There was no sign of the beagle. He often went off on his own in the park, but he was never very far away. "Fred? Come on boy."
The park was silent.
"Fred! Come here!"
He listened, but there was no sound of snuffling anywhere.
"FRED!"
No. This never happened. Where the fuck was that dog? Ricky backtracked a little way, calling all the time.
His surroundings remained frustratingly beagleless.
Oh for fuck's sake. Fred knew where home was, but the dog had absolutely no road sense, so Ricky couldn't just go back and wait for him to return – he'd get run over, sure as eggs is eggs.
Ricky spent an hour searching the park, getting more furious by the minute. And then, when he turned around, Fred was sitting by his feet, his tongue lolling and grinning at him.
"You bastard ." Ricky attached the lead and led him home at a fast trot.
"Where have you been?" His mother was concerned.
"Damn dog ran off in the park." He headed for the stairs, his hard cock leading the way. "I'm knackered, mum. I'm going to bed."
"All right dear. Oh – before you go, be a love and put these in the black bin for me, will you?"
That would only take a minute. Sighing resignedly, Ricky carried the two bags outside to the front drive. He opened the wheelie bin and threw the first one in, and picked up the second. It caught on the edge of the bin, tore, and deposited its contents on the drive.
Ricky looked at the mess in silence. Then, with a drawn-out scream of rage he drew his right foot back and kicked it as hard as he could. This spread the rubbish considerably further.
Fifteen minutes later he'd got everything into the bin. He stormed back into the house, washed his hands, and ran up the stairs. At the top he paused with his hand on the knob, waiting for another call for him to do something – but none came. With slight disbelief, he went in and closed the door behind him.
It was late so he got into bed properly this time. Now. At last. The wank he'd been waiting for. The wank he'd been saving himself up for all fucking week. He dived under the duvet, turned quickly onto his side and grabbed his cock.
It had been his intention to make this wank last a long time, but he was so desperate that that was no longer an option. With the image of Declan's thighs in those skintight jeans projected in high resolution onto his closed eyelids, he started to pump his cock hard and fast, his hips thrusting frantically.
The bed was a physical object. Physical objects have a resonant frequency – and Ricky's pumping hips hit that frequency exactly. At the precise second the boy started to cum, the bed's legs finally gave way. The whole thing tilted, and with a creak of tortured wood, it deposited him unceremoniously onto the floor.
Ricky's mother had been on her way back from the bathroom and rushed to the bedroom door in alarm at the sound of devastation coming from her son's room. She opened the door. "Are you all right Ricky?"
She stared at the sight of the boy on the floor. He was still wanking furiously and spunk was shooting everywhere.
For a moment there was a stunned silence. Then she backed out of the room and closed the door quietly.
Ricky closed his eyes and, silently, screamed.