Many were the warm summer nights I'd lie in bed on top of my covers, the night air blowing in through my open bedroom window, gently whispering at the thin fabric of my pajama bottoms, finding access at the fly and kissing the soft, pubescent flesh between my legs - like an ethereal interloper, seeking out adolescent sensuality, sensing human seed, and coaxing it free.

The pajama bottoms slid down from my waist, past my non-existant hips, brushing the ridge of my semi-flaccid penis, causing it to swell slightly. The clothing continued down past my scrotum, loose from the heat of the day, exposing my young orbs now partly covered in a light downy fuzz. With one finger, I traced a path down my chest and across my flat stomach. It circled my navel, lingered and continued downward. It drew a path around my now swollen glans, along one side of the head to the underside of the mushroom and down the shaft, drawn to the warmth of my testicles. My finger lazily veered, ascended the curve of one nut, reached the apex and decended into my scrotal valley feeling the swollen ridge of my Corpus spongiosum lurking just below the scrotal raphe. I paused momentarily before ascending the second nut, reaching the top and sliding down to the cleavage where my ballsack joined to my upper thigh. The light breeze gently stroked at my warm cockflesh while my fingers wrapped around the engorged unit. My hand began to stroke. Gentle tufts of air from the window kissed at my testicles, cooling them, tightening the thin tissue and drawing its contents closer to my body. I reached down with a free hand and clutched my balls, pulling them taut and extending my rigid shaft. My grip grew tighter on my cock as the stroking accelerated.

The night air lapped at my thighs, my stomach and chest, across my nipples. It tousled my hair. "Be a good boy," it whispered in my ear, thunder rumbling in the distance. "Can you be a good boy for me?" I felt my grip tighten slightly at my balls; a bubble of precum oozed from the tip of my penis and ran down into my closed fist, a light breeze chasing after it. "Sweet, sweet boy," I heard it say. Soon, my cock was slick with the slippery syrup growing ever stiffer. Outside the wind picked up in anticipation of the coming storm. A bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, the distant thunder muttered a response. "Hurry! Hurry!" My ministrations increased and I looked down to see the silhouette of my young boner disappearing then reappearing from my closed fist. The wind blew harder and cooler through the open window, up my legs and into my crotch, tightening my sac until it felt like my balls were trying to crawl back inside my body.

A large flash of lightning lit up the bedroom. "Hurry! Please hurry!" the voice called. Thunder crashed. My rod stiffened, the cockhead swollen as my fingers caressed it - up, down, up, down...pause. Up, down, up, down...pause. My body tensed, my toes curled. "Yes! Yes! My good boy! Give it all to me!" An amazing bolt of lightning strobed through the room as my penis erupted and great jets of plasma arced from the tip. One, two, three, four. They splashed off my chin, my neck, my chest. From outside, a massive crash of thunder. Five, six, seven, eight. The hot fluid coated my chest and abdomen, rigid from the contractions. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Weak spurts on to my belly and pubic mound, drowning the soft fuzz that had just taken root not so long ago. Then, just little dribbles to coat my hand.

At once, the rain began outside as the wind picked up much stronger than earlier. It whipped through the open window throwing the curtains aside. It blew the papers off my desk as it sought out its prize. It whistled through the window, across my bare legs, blowing my spent prick to one side and lapping at the puddles of adolescent seed congealing on my body like a succubus claiming its victim.