Date: Fri, 2 Nov 2007 13:55:56 +0000
From: J. Edward White
Subject: A Model Boy

The lad was working out better than expected. I needed an apprentice for
the summer to take over some of the routine work so I could concentrate on
a large order for which I didn't have the time, but was so impressed by the
number of dollars offered for fast results, I couldn't turn down.

I had posted an ad in "Models" magazine and asked the applicants to send
pictures of some of their work. He sent in some very impressive photos of
various cars and airplanes and a dialogue began by mail. I guaranteed a
summeer of work, room and board, and a chance to learn the trade if the
first two weeks of trial work was satisfactory. The trade, making models
for industry, in my case primarily aeronautical, had been a real joyride:
doing what one loves to do and getting paid handsomely for the effort is a
luxury few men can enjoy.

The dialogue was a bit odd, I thought, but never having done this kind of
apprentice hunting I had nothing with which to compare the process. I had
been required to guarantee the health, safety, diet, and general "climate"
of the workplace and had submitted three reference letters. One, from the
mayor of my little New England town, one from the local Boyscout leader
whom I had helped on various projects, and one from a local cleric who had
been a longtime close friend. He felt his vows of abstinence only related
to heterosexual contacts and indeed his virginity on that score was intact
to my knowledge but we had spent many a night together enjoying man2man
pleasures.

The boy, Jeffrey, arrived with his maiden aunt who had raised him since his
parents were killed in an auto accident when he was 6. She had a hatchet
face with a personality to match. She looked the place over as tho it were
a barracks inspection, apparently was satisfied and left, without a hug for
the boy, a word of encouragement and nary a smile the entire visit. The boy
was, by contrast, enthusiastic, animated, talented, innovative, able to
translate blueprints and graphics into form and absolutely delighted to
learn about all the new equipment and techniques that were part of my shop.
My only problem with him was that he engendered a virtually continuous
erection and made it more than hard to concentrate on the work, no pun
intended. He was a lovely boy: 5'10", tall for his 14 years, about 140
pound, just beginning to fill out and still a bit gawky, but charming.
Deep red-brown hair, a sprinkle of freckles across a lightly upturned nose,
and an angel face.

Work was going well but on the morning of the third day, Jeff was obviously
upset and I sat him down, looked him in the eye and asked what was
troubling him.

"I'm so ashamed, I can't tell you." he said with downcast eyes.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. Tell your friend Brad, maybe I can help."
"I--I've soiled my bed and I am so sorry.

Brad's heart sank over the fear that his star apprentice could be a bed
wetter or have a bowel control problem, but he and Jeff slowly made their
way to the boy's bed. Brad turned back the sheet and was greeted with the
faint scent of chlorine and the unmistakable yellow-white stain of semen.
"What do you think that is?" said Brad, but the boy was speechless and
shaking. Brad realized he was frightened and wrapped his arms around those
slim shoulders and held him tightly.  Gradually the shaking stopped and the
boy relaxed.

"It is a message from the Devil," said Jeff "and I hate when that happens
because then aunt Hetty makes me stand in the corner and memorize a page
from the bible until I can have breakfast. Even worse, sometimes I wake up
with my peepee glued to the sheet and it is painful peeling it loose."

"Well, your aunt Hetty may be right about some things, but she is
definitely off base with that!" and he proceeded to explain to the boy that
his nocturnal emissions were due to his loss of childhood and advancing
manhood. When it became obvious that Jeff had no conception of the facts of
life (NPI) Brad outlined the roles of sperm, semen, ova, and pregnancy.

"So, nature is now causing you to make sperm and when you build up an
excess, mother nature causes you to unload the overflow in your sleep. At
this time of your life you are also probably experiencing swelling and
hardening of your penis too."

"What's a penis?" said Jeff.

Further questioning revealed that the boy had no access to a computer, had
been home schooled by his very religious aunt, and the only connection with
boys his age had been at church events. So Brad needed to provide the boy
with a rudimentary lesson in anatomy as well.

"Oh, when my penis gets hard, that's even worse! I have to take my pants
off and stand in front of aunt Hetty and read from the bible until it gets
soft again."

Brad fumed. He could picture the perverted old bitch getting her jollies at
the expense of her charge. "Jeff, we've got a ton of work to do, so let's
pour it on this morning and then after lunch, we'll settle down and I'll
explain how to release the sperm overload so that the wet dreams and
unwanted erections are more easily dealt with."

For the rest of the morning Brad noted with mounting pleasure that the lad
had a prominent and recurring swelling evident in his shorts. Brad was
making lunch when Jeff walked up behind him and gave him a hug. "Is that
okay, Mr. Brad? It just felt so good before..."

"Oh, Jeff, hugs are wonderful and I'm happy to have one any time."

"Well, I really needed that one, and I've needed them a lot but the only
other one I can remember was from my sunday school teacher after I fell in
the parking lot and skinned my knee."

Brad returned Jeff's hug and finally realized just how cold and distant a
childhood the boy had suffered through.  As promised, after lunch they took
a break. New England in June and toss in any brand of weather: today it was
hot and sultry and they both had on shorts, t shirts and sandals. They went
into the den, Brad put on a videotape and they settled on the couch to
watch. The picture opened with a man stting in a chair, the view was from
mid chest to knees. Slowly his knees spread, and revealed a generous,
shaved, semihard penis which continued its erection with each heartbeat.
The man's hand reached up and began to fondle his left nipple while his
left hand was gently stroking a well filled scrotum. Brad looked over at
Jeff who was transfixed: his mouth slightly open, a visibly pulsing bulge
in his shorts. Then Jeff's hand moved down to his crotch and adjusted his
cock to the side. Jeff looked up and caught Brad eyeing his package. With a
start, he pulled his hand away from his manhood.

"It's OK," said Brad, "there just isn't enough room in there for a young
man to be comfortable." whereupon he stopped the VHS, stood, and pulled
down his shorts and Jockeys. Go ahead, Jeff, join me. It will feel a lot
better without being all jammed up in your shorts."  At 29, Brad could
still pop a woodie in seconds and his 8 incher sticking straight out was a
beautiful sight. "Come on, Jeff, it's just us, and we are buddies so let's
get comfortable. Besides, we need to teach you about your new body, because
I can see from here, you aren't a little boy any longer."

And it was true, Jeff's boner was causing a prodigious bulge in his
Dockers. Jeff stood, turned his back to Brad and slowly pulled down his
shorts and briefs.  Brad reached up, placed his hand on the lad's hip and
gently pulled him to the couch. Brad whistled. "Glory be, a 16 pound cannon
on a rowboat! Jeff, with a beautiful penis like that you should never wear
clothes!" Jeff's cock was fully erect, curving up gently to almost touch
his stomach. Perfectly formed with a deep purple glans, significantly
larger than his shaft. "Jeff, we ought to measure that, it's got to be 7
inches long and that's a whole lot for an 110 pound fourteen year old."

Jeff giggled. "Seven and a half, I measured it last week, even though aunt
Hetty told me it was a sin to touch my peepee unless I was washing or
peeing."

"Son, that's no longer a peepee. That's a penis. Or, if you are being
crude, a cock,or a dick, or a tallywacker, or a dong or a willy on ad
finitim. And your aunt may be right about some things, but she's dead wrong
there. God gave you that organ for a reason, and why would it be a sin to
touch it? Like, he have you a way to take care of an overload of semen with
a wet dream. But I promised you a more satisfying solution to your backed
up solution." and with that, he turned the VCR back on.

Part 2 to follow.

J. Edward White