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Coming this Summer!!!

 A "coming of age" story like no other! 

 

Through the exploits of an inner city boy named Rashod, you'll follow him through discovery, adventure, pain, passion and eventually, love. 

Here's just a few excerpts from the story. Get the WHOLE story with your Studies In Brown membership TODAY! Click Here To Join

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Wickedly eyeing him, his rigid dick was temptingly guided toward a waiting mouth. Hissing loudly, his hands bawled into sweaty fists, sensuous ripples of pleasure rocketing from his towering length.

"Ahhhhh!" he moaned, the head bobbing up and down his spear.

Bobbing beneath his balls, a skillful tongue descended on the burgeoning orbs, caressing them ever so gently. His naked body trembling, he held on, teetering on the edge. His bare legs lifted and spread, the hot, flickering plume found his quivering hole. Dabbing his slot salaciously, it danced about, torturing him.

"Ahhh! Shit!" he grunted, writhing on the darting scoop.

Lapping hungrily, it dragged across his groove, electric charges arching maddeningly up from it, encircling his balls and climbing up his dripping post. Continuing its merciless threshing, he thought he'd scream.

His toes wiggling and curling, he pleaded with the pair of peering eyes, gazing from beneath his balls. Gingerly traveling up, sensuous lips enclosed on his balls again, then suckled torturously up his spasming pole. As he watched his distended dome descend within the silky depths, he whimpered, another lightening bolt flaring up his consumed root.  

The talented caldron, coddling his knob, drew him deeper, deeper… His toes wiggling again, dancing about in sheer ecstasy, his dick was plucked from the warm vacuum. Expert fingers encircling him, his eyes bulged as they stroked. Bucking about, he felt the groping fist start an urgent churn in his balls.   

The fingers choking up on his upraised bat, his essence surged from his balls, sweeping up his spasming shaft, and spilling out his squinting pee-hole like molten lava. Trickling across the stroking digits, his seed coursed out, his rapture complete.  

Lewdly lapping at his wiggling toes, the figure stood, his cum still dripping off its hands, and left…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I ain't gettin' drunk with you no more," Marcus cackled.

"But we ain't drunk," Rashod comically denied.

"See, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. You a fool!"

 

Twin laughs filling the room, the boys suffered through another unbearable case of the giggles.

"Shit! I gotta pee," Marcus declared.

"Hold up, me too," Rashod added, following his friend into the bathroom.

 

Crowding before the toilet, they danced about, their urgent need greater than their sluggish dexterity.

"Damn! Can't get it out!" Rashod griped, fishing in his pants.

"Uggnnhh!" Marcus groaned, dancing from foot to foot as he likewise dug in his pants.

"Betta hurry, nigga!"

"Don't worry 'bout me, you better get yours out before you pee yo' pants!"

"Oh shit, oh shit! I can't…."

"You peeing on yo'self?"

"I can't get it out!"

"Oh shit! Don’t make me laugh! Uggnnhh!"

 

His stream starting, Marcus barely whipped his dick out in time. A thick arc of yellow urine soaring from his unbridled dick, it wet the walls, the toilet seat cover, even Rashod's socks.

"Shit!" Rashod yelped, snatching his foot away as if scalded. "Get that sucka under control, nigga!" he snickered, finally fishing his own gushing rod from his pants.

Leaning against each other for added support, the boys finally aimed their streams at the bowl, relieved. Their flow ceaseless, they both held their heads down, neither deigning to look at the other.  

Marcus got a big dick, Rashod considered, snatching a covert look. Silently finishing their business, the boys retired to the room. The game casually acknowledged, another selection poured from the cd player. Chatting sporadically, Marcus suggested they have another beer.

 

Rashod's team was loosing and, every so often, he'd turn up the sound to hear a replay.

"Ma' boys just ain't on it today," he lamented, turning the sound down again.

"They never shoulda traded Campbell ," Marcus reported, heading for the bathroom again.

Instinctively, Rashod tagged along. Their previous revelry replaced with somber sluggishness, they silently extracted their dicks, aiming them at the bowl again — nothing happened.

Shoulder to shoulder again, they stared at the bowl, dicks in hand, waiting. Glancing periodically at Marcus' dick he wondered why they were there. Marcus  ain't gotta pee, he surmised. Neither do you, he thought, shaking his dick again.  

Minutes passing, Rashod glanced over at Marcus' dick again. What're we doin', he speculated? Snatching his eyes away, he jiggled his dick again, but it was no use, he couldn't produce shit.  

Marcus shook his dick again, drawing Rashod's attention to it. Cain't believe this…

There was a familiar stir across his midsection. That tingling was starting again, to his horror. Shit!  

Distressed, his first mind told him to tuck and run, but he couldn't budge. Instead, he hazarded another dangerous glimpse.  

Marcus was glancing over at him now, but he wasn't looking at his dick. Casting a risqué flash at his friend's face, he anxiously scrutinized it. Jerking his head away, he stared at the bowl, issuing another useless jiggle to his dick.  

His heart thundering in his ears, Rashod looked back at the bowl. Had he been stronger, he would've triumphed but, despite himself, he slowly turned to glimpse Marcus' dick again. Spying it, his eyes grew wide as saucers. God damn, this nigga is throwin' bone! His developing body close to a year older than Rashod's, his dick thrust out from his jeans a near 7 inches. His own dick lurching, Rashod felt himself careening, headlong, into the heady after tow of wanton teenage lust. Soon, both boys were poised over the toilet with stiff erections in their hands.  

Encouraged, Marcus subtly ran his hand up his length, summoning a tiny pearl of hot juice from his bulbous head. Rashod watched mesmerized, his dick pulsing in his hand. Slowly smearing the clear liquid around the head of his dick, Marcus let out a soft hiss.  

He glanced over at Rashod's erect bone, a slight leer on his face, then repeated his actions, this time pulling his precum slicked hand down his long shaft. Carefully sliding his hand up and down his shaft, he glanced up at Rashod.

"It's ok," he instructed, "This is what you s'posed to do when you get drunk."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mall bristling with teenagers, Rashod was drawn to countless boys, subtly surveying them as they passed. Dragging Jerenda to several stores, he hunted for a new pair of pants. Jerenda was really great, her sense of fashion a pleasant plus as he shopped. Failing to find what he wanted, Jerenda suggested they try The Gap. Rashod agreed and upon entering the store, they ran into one of her friends.  

As she chatted at length with the girl, Rashod eyed the boy with her, neither of them really acknowledging the other. Eyeing him guardedly Rashod concluded he was a playa that, no doubt, banged every girl he saw and left them for the next. An expensive gold chain around his neck, he sported a tank top T and a Boston Red Sox athletic shirt, fashionably dangling open about his lithe torso.  

Sneaking a peek at his slender waist, he felt a tingle slipping across his midsection. Alarmed, he grabbed Jerenda by the hand, complaining as he hastily pulled her away, "dang girl, we ain't got all day."

 

 

 

...His style a little cramped, Rashod eventually relented, following her to the store. As Jerenda said, there was plenty for him to choose from. So much, he found it hard to make a choice.

"Why don't you try some on? You know, to be sure," she clarified in that charming, singsong way she spoke.

"A'ight," he agreed, swooping a bunch up.

An attendant issued him a placard with the number three on it at the dressing rooms and he took a booth. Kicking his shoes off, he dropped his pants and was picking up a pair of khakis when he caught site of a pair of shoes entering the adjacent booth.  

Trying the first pair on, he stepped out the booth to check himself in the full length mirror. Coincidentally, the door to the booth beside him opened, too. Glancing up, he observed a boy about his age.

"'Sup," he greeted, thumbing his head at the youth.

"'Sup," the boy returned. Deferring the mirror to Rashod, he modestly stood aside.

Turning from side to side, Rashod eyed himself in the mirror between glances at the boy. Deciding the pants were too big, he relinquished the mirror and headed for his booth.

Seconds later, the door to the other booth opened and the feet entered again. Rashod stood for a moment watching them, then dropped the khakis onto the floor. Echoing his move, he saw a pair of jeans hit the floor beneath the partition. Glancing up at the mirror, he spied the early signs of an erection, thrusting his boxers out.  

Waiting for what seemed an eternity, he watched the feet beneath the partition for signs the boy was changing. When they didn't move, he started to wonder what he was doing. Same thing you're doin', a voice said.  

Standing a little longer, he held his breath, straining to hear signs of any movement in the next booth. The feet were still stationary, facing the wall opposite the door, but no sounds. Rashod sat down, watching the feet as he did and, sure enough, the boy sat down, also.  

His dick soaring through the opening in his boxers, he tried to will it down, but failed. The feet parted and then were motionless again. Imagining the cute, brown skinned boy he'd seen sitting with his legs gapped, his dick started to drip.  

Damn! I'm fucked!

Moments passed and then he heard a faint sound from next door. Repetitive sounds, like…  

Straining to hear again, he leaned closer to the dividing wall. Nothing at first, then the slightest sound… something… wet?  

There it was again! Squish, squish…

Aw shit!  

Of its own accord, his hand found his leaking staff. Quietly slipping it up and around the dripping head, he moistened his length, squashing a hiss. Squish, squish…  Squish, squish...    

 

 

 

 

 

...Now two days before the New Year, they were together in Darrell's car. Eager for the boy to make good on his promise to "give him a New Year's present he'd never forget," Rashod called him, that evening.  

Sucking him like he'd never done before, Rashod's dick spurted only minutes after he'd started, leaving him longing for more.

"Good?" Darrell solicited.

"Hells, yeah," Rashod said, checking his face in the mirror.

"You really liked it?"

"Yeah… But we really need to jet, I told moms I'd be back in 'bout ten minutes," Rashod said, glancing at his watch.  

"I got you something." Pulling out of the secluded parking lot, he instructed, "Open the glove box."

 

Rashod gazed at him a second, then popped the glove box open. The little light glowed in the darkened car, illuminating a jewelry case with a bow on it. Rashod pulled it out, slamming the glove box door.

"Man, you shouldn't 'ave," he stammered.  

Opening the case, he quietly regarded the gold bracelet, perturbed.

"Aw, dude, it's slammin'." Gleeful, he slipped the bracelet on. "Dang… sorry, I didn't even get you anything."

"It's ok. I just got it 'cause I wanted to."

"Yeah, thanks, man," Rashod said, turning his wrist about.

 

Dropping him off, Darrell requested,

"Call me?"

"Yeah, next time." 

 

Bounding up the steps to his front door, he opened it, heading for his room.

"Rashod?" His mother called.

"Yeah mom?"

"Come here."

 

Rashod strode into the kitchen where his mom was fixing his father's lunch. Never lifting her head, she pointed a malevolent finger at the overflowing trash can.

"Sorry," Rashod muttered, gathering up the trash bag.

"What's that?" his mother inquired, grabbing his wrist.

"Oh, Darrell got it for me."

"Darrell!"

"Yeah?"

"What a boy doin' buying you something like that?"

"I don't know? What's the big deal?"

"Boys ain't supposed to be buying stuff like that for boys, that's what!"

"But he didn't mean…" Glancing down at the gleaming bracelet, Rashod paused. Why had Darrell bought him…

"… something fishy to me," his mother was saying.

"I don't know what you're thinkin'," Rashod deflected, "but it ain't like that."

"Somethin' wrong with that."

 

Rashod readily dismissed his mother's speculations, refusing to admit the bracelet meant anything more than a friendly gesture. Rushing to his room, he flicked his TV on, searching for a football game. Reclining on his bed, he pointed the remote at the TV, clicking channels his eyes eventually drawn to the bracelet again. Watching it glitter in the soft light of the TV, he turned it about, pondering.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How come I cain't get one of them rings?"

"This?" Izrael questioned, raising his bejeweled finger.

"Yeah, why I ain't got minze yet?" Rashod insisted. They were on their way home from school. An overcast March afternoon, they dawdled, no pressing concern prodding them.

 

"You don't just get the ring, man. They’re fo' special members."

"Special members? But…"

"Don't think you ready fo' that yet."

"Ready? What I got to be ready fo'?"

"There's a lot of steps involved in joining The Ophidian, man."

"So I cain't join?"

"Not saying that, I just don't think you're ready."

"Cain't you help me get ready?" Pausing, Izrael faced him.

"You really serious?"

"On da real, bro. I mean, it's nice being a brother of Delta-Chi and all, but I been eyeing them rings since I joined."

"If that's all you want, might as well forget it," Izrael dismissed, striding ahead. Rashod rushed to catch up with him, arguing,

"That ain't all I want in fo'."

 

Izrael stopped, attentively waiting to hear what he had to say. A thousand thoughts merging at once, Rashod tried to pin down a way to express them.

No doubt, Izrael came correct with all his shit. The way he played on the football team, had the baddest clothes, mad cheddar, hippest squad in town, was so fine, he almost threw bone whenever he saw him, everything. How to put all this into words though? He finally settled for,

"I like yo' flow, bro. You doin' it, I wanna do it," he said, thumbing his chest on I.

"That's cool, Rashod, but… I don't think you understand. This ain't like when you pledged Delta-Chi. This," he said, thrusting the ring at him, "will challenge you at a level you've never been tried. And, unlike pledging Delta-Chi, you don't get to stop. Once you start, you gotta finish it, man. Ain't no backin' out. I ain't trying to stop you from tryin' bro, but… you don't make The Ophidian, you outta Delta-Chi too. We been havin' a lot of fun and I like yo' flow too, so I'd hate to loose you 'cause The Ophidian blew yo' mind."

"Blew my mind?"

"Fo'get it, Rashod," Izrael said, walking away again. Pursuing him, Rashod argued,

"Why you illin' man?"

"I ain't illin'. The Ophidian just ain't fo' everybody. Take some real nuts to get in this."

"You tryin' to say I ain't got 'em?"

"I just don't want you messin' up a good thang."

"But… you made it, right?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy."

"Lemme 'ave a smack at it then."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, I hear ya."

"Cain't be half steppin' either. You got ta want this like yo' right nutt, nigga." Rashod considered his proposal. With purpose he firmly stated,

"Like ma right and left nutt, nigga."  

Izrael slammed his fist atop Rashod's upheld fist, rallying him with a resounding "a'ight nigga! Meet me tomorrow, after school at our table," he instructed.

"A'ight." As his friend turned to leave he called out, "Izrael… thanks man."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His heart in his throat, he crossed the campus that afternoon, memories of his first kiss reminding him he’d had more than one after school experience. The workout room was empty, the door unlocked. Standing center the room, he looked at himself in the encircling mirrors. He looked haggard, his eyes skittish.

The door opened behind him, Izrael suddenly appearing from the locker room. Gazing at Rashod’s reflection in one of the mirrors he petitioned,

“You cool?” His heart racing, Rashod nodded his head.

“You still want in?” Hesitant, Rashod nodded.

“You sure?”  

Swallowing, Rashod stared at his reflection. Now or never, he reasoned, his heart pounding in his ears. Closing his eyes, he let out a slow exhalation. Facing Izrael, he opened his eyes.

“Ma right and left nutt,” he quietly responded.

 

Smiling, Izrael punched him playfully in the shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Blinking, Rashod felt weak in the knees. “When I leave, all you got to do is open that door and go inside,” Izrael instructed, pointing at the famed mirror door.  

Rashod gazed at the door, his mouth dry as he swallowed. Walking to the locker room door, Izrael turned the lights off. In the stark darkness he heard Izrael call, “One last thing… You got to take everything off.”

 

...With trembling hands he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the ground. Slowly removing his undershirt, he absently kicked off his shoes. In a daze he pulled off his socks, the sensation of his bare feet on the cool carpet not even registering. By the time he’d worked down to his boxers, he wasn’t even thinking anymore. His mind blank, he slowly walked through the dark toward what he hoped was the door.  

Bumping into the wall of cool glass he felt along the mirrors until he felt the doorknob. Taking a deep breath he opened it, stepping through.  

Darkness greeting him he immediately sensed the bare floor beneath his feet, the ground unavoidably cold. A chill running through him he felt his way inside, the door closing behind him. Wondering what he was supposed to do, he suddenly stopped.  

To his right he sensed warmth. Frozen he felt his heart leap in his chest.

Peering hopelessly into the darkness he suddenly became aware of warmth to his left. In fact, he was surrounded, warm bodies in front, to either side and yes, now mysteriously close behind him!  

Holding his breath he stood nervously still, trying to avoid contact. The small space apparently packed, that option proved hopeless. In the dark he sensed arms, torsos, legs and groins, pressed against him on every side.  

Their combined warmth pushed against his body, he felt himself heating up. Then, despite his efforts, he felt his dick surge. No! No! NO!  He silently screamed, trying in vain to pull back from the warm buns in front of him...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The coach’s house massive, Rashod was surprised when Izrael opened a door on an office. Closing the door behind them, Izrael walked to the huge desk, commanding center attention in the room. Stepping behind it he opened a drawer.

“Yo, this cool?” Rashod quizzed, lingering near the door.

“Just one of the perks, skeeter.”

“No shit!”  

Joining him, Rashod’s eyes beamed when Izrael pulled out a large Ziploc of bud. “Damnnn, ya’ll got it like that?”

“Told you to stick with me,” Izrael said, snapping his fingers.

 

In another drawer Izrael found a stash of small cigars, just the perfect size to roll a blunt. As his nimble fingers worked, Rashod detailed his experience with his lady friend.

“Just left me there with my dick in my hand,” He ended.

“Sometimes, it be like that,” Izrael consoled.

“Yeah.”

 

Handing him a perfectly rolled blunt, Izrael popped open a lighter beneath it. Drawing deeply, Rashod squinted, the grade superior. Finding himself alone with Izrael again proving even more stimulating, enhanced by the marijuana, he avoided the boy’s gaze.

“So what do you think of The Ophidian so far?” Izrael quizzed.

“It’s crackin’, fo’ sho,” Rashod said, blowing out a long exhalation. “Damn, this some good shit,” He commented, gazing at his blunt.

“Nothing but the best for our members.

 

Concern etching his face, Rashod gazed at him, then glanced away. “What?” Izrael inquired. Shaking his head, Rashod took another toke.

“What?” Izrael pressed.

“It’s just… all this,” Rashod indicated, pointing at the surroundings.

“Yeah?”

“How?”

“Coach,” Izrael intoned. “Told you, he started this for us because the brothers couldn’t get in any of the groups on campus.”

“I’ve seen brothers in other groups,” Rashod countered.

“Yeah, but what kind? Not like you and me. If you want to suck up to the majority, then you may get in. Or, at least, you have a better chance. But what about the rest of us?”

“Word,” Rashod assented.

 

Other questions plagued him, but having played a willing part in the proceedings, he held his peace rather than raise suspicion. Best to leave a good thing alone, he always said.

 

The bud calming him, he soon forgot about his woman woes. Mellowed, he slumped in the plush chair, smoking his blunt to the last. With every glance at Izrael, he grew hotter, the youth’s lean lines and attractive face alluring.

“Might be able to help you with that lady problem,” Izrael said. His heart leaping, Rashod sat up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Tell you what. Let’s go back to the front and I’ll see what I can setup.”

“Yo, that would be cool, you get me another lady,” Rashod enthused.

“Hey, all you want is a good nutt, right?”

“Yeah…” Rashod nodded, confused, “yeah.”

“I got that on lock down then,” Izrael asserted...

 

 

Izrael was motioning at him from the hallway. “A’ight, give me just a couple more minutes,” He said, when Rashod joined him. “Have a drink, get mellow, then go to the last door on your left.” He pointed down the hall. “Lock yourself in the closet, and you gon’ be tight, ok?”

 

...In the dark he waited, his heart racing. Turning around, he was wondering if it was big enough for two people when he noticed a small shaft of light. Curious, he looked closer. Clearly cut into the wall, there was  a felt-lined hole. Looking through it, all he saw was light.  

Standing, he scratched his head. Staring at the hole for some time, he crouched before it, straining into the darkness. What the?? He was about to stand when he noticed movement. Peering through the hole, the light suddenly went out. Curious, he stared intently.  

Then it hit him. Staring at the hole, he slowly opened his pants. Excited, he whipped his stiff tool out, aiming it at the hole.  

Flush with the wall, he waited, his dick thrust clear through the odd hole now. Then, like a hot dream, he felt a mouth descend on his wickedly hard erection. Amazed at the sheer ingenuity of something so simple yet so unbelievably hot, he shuddered, the mouth expertly working his hard inches....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sublime Surrender

 

Holding his legs splayed, the form dove between them. Pinned, he watched as the seductive lips found his hole. Parting, the pink member flitted out, raking across his bud. Gazing between his wide spread legs, he watched anxiously as it painted his spasming hole.

His dick drippingly hard, it bobbled above his stomach, scorching drops of boy clearness dribbling to pool below.  

Rising between his legs, the interloper stared at him, its eyes piercing his. He gazed into them, mesmerized, the wily rapier breaching his orifice. Howling and twisting about, he felt it coil inside. Snapping his eyes shut, he bit his lower lip, his whole world the beam violating him.  

His tight socket splitting around the intruder, he wailed.

Pain… fear… awe…

Flinging his eyes open, he glanced down. He was literally being impaled on the monster. Bearing down, he tried squeezing it out, a new wave of sensations embracing him.  

His long toes standing erect, searing, sparks of electricity raced from his smoldering passage. Whimpering, he surrendered, more forced inside him. His head thrown back, he cursed the assailant's name, writhing in agony.  

Thrusting him upon the mighty cannon, his aggressor pounced.

Eyes… compelling eyes… his helpless state delighting them.

He dared to look past them.

A glimpse of the staff, parting his portal, it ignited his reticent libido.  

Raking against a spot deep within him, despite himself, he sensed a stir within his gullet, demanding a response. His lips separating, a cry ripped from his throat, ripples coursing up the length of his tube. His dick standing of its own accord, he shrieked again, the stabbing pole stroking the tenderness inside him.  

Dancing atop the leviathan, his body convulsed.

Trembling… writhing… shaking…

Hot drops of cum spurted on his stomach… 

 

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