Date: Sun, 31 May 2009 21:46:42 -0700 From: Data Fever Subject: A Peter Tale I was eating alone at my favorite restaurant. Not a fancy place, but good food at a good price. The waitress never charged me for all those extra cups of coffee either. It was a Friday evening and the place was busy. I was feeling just a tad guilty about occupying a table all by myself, but my food had just arrived and I was going to take my time and enjoy it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a handsome boy walk in by himself. The waitress approached him and was explaining that he would have to wait to be seated when I decided to be a little bold. I got up, walked over to them, and offered to let the youngster sit at my table with me. The waitress gave the boy an inquiring glance. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sure." As we sat down, I introduced myself and he did likewise: "My name's Peter. Thank you for letting me sit at your table." He was wearing a Pink Floyd T-shirt and green baggy shorts that came down below his knees. The T-shirt's arms had been ripped off leaving a jagged edge. His Nike tennis shoes seemed too large, and the purple laces were not tied, but were tucked in so they wouldn't get in the way. I estimated that he was fourteen or fifteen years old. His arms were covered with fine, silky hairs. His face was like a dream. He had lips that looked as though they were meant to be kissed. His hair was dark brown, bleached in the front. The waitress came and asked if he was ready to order. He looked up from the menu and ordered a patty melt, fries, and a large Coke. He handed the waitress the menu and she left us alone, to the extent that two people can be alone when surrounded by dozens of talking diners. I figured the best time for a conversation was before his food arrived. He answered my questions but said nothing otherwise. Some of his answers seemed rather evasive so I didn't pursue inquiries very far. I learned that he was sixteen years old and was going to be a high school junior when fall rolled around. He was from a small town about twenty miles away. He didn't have a steady girlfriend. I got the impression that he didn't have much in the way of friends at all. I tried to piece together what I could deduce from what he didn't say. He was evasive about knowing anyone in the area and also about how long he would be around. As near as I could tell, he either ran away from home or had been kicked out. When he mentioned that he would likely find a motel for the night, I jumped at the opportunity. "If you'd like, I've got a sleeper sofa that you could use for a night or two. Save yourself a bit of money." He didn't seem that enthused by the idea, so I added, "Tell you what. Come over to my place and if you don't like it or feel uncomfortable, I'll drive you over to the motel of your choice." He protested when I paid for his meal, but not too much. I drove him over to my place and showed him around. Even though I am a single man, I keep my place fairly neat and clean, except for the kitchen sink. Taking a cue from his T-shirt, I put on a Pink Floyd CD. He sang along with every song. After the first couple of songs, he was dancing around. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew how erotic his movements were. The boy seemed to exude sexuality. About midway through the album, he removed his T-shirt and cast it on the sofa. There was nothing wrong with his upper body. His chest was hairless. His muscles showed some definition without making him look muscular. His nipples were perfect little brown points. His bellybutton was nicely formed with only a small depression. I continued to watch him. Perhaps I was staring. I don't think that my tongue was hanging out. While the last song on the CD was playing, he either decided he was tired or had something else in mind. He plopped himself down on the sofa and asked for a Coke. I went into the kitchen and took a can out of the refrigerator. I don't drink sodas myself, but I keep them stocked for when I have company over. I broke up some ice into a tall glass and poured in the Coke. When I returned to the living room, he was in the process of removing his shorts, leaving himself clad in only his boxers and his Nike's. I was so surprised that I almost dropped the glass of Coke. He glanced up and noticed my expression. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to cool off a bit after all that dancing." I handed him the Coke and he sat back down on the sofa while I resumed my seat in my favorite armchair. The music had stopped and I thought briefly of putting on some more, maybe something like Bon Jovi. But I thought I would try to engage Peter in some conversation first. I was pleased that he was a bit more talkative than he had been at dinner. At first it was bits and pieces, but gradually his full story developed. Over the past few years, Peter had been having sex with his classmates. He figured that he had had sexual relations with about a dozen of them. Some of them only once or twice, others several times. In all cases, he either gave them a blow job or else he let them fuck him. Only once did one of the boys give him a hand job. Peter had also had sex on two occasions with older men. He discovered that men were willing to pay money for sexual favors. He had received forty dollars for sucking one guy off, and a hundred dollars for letting himself be fucked. Well, the shit hit the fan when his dad became suspicious and walked into his bedroom when one of his classmates was fucking him. His dad was furious that his son would engage in such blatantly immoral behavior. After a couple of days of arguments, Peter walked out, got on a bus, and ended up here. As Peter had no intention of ever returning, I wondered what he had planned in order to survive. He was confident that he could make enough money to live on by selling his body to older men. Talking about all of this made Peter rather upset and emotional. He was walking around most of the time. I wanted so much to hold him in my arms and hug him. When I asked him if being a prostitute was really what he wanted to do, he came over and sat down on the arm of the chair in which I was seated. He said nothing for the longest time. "No, not really." Tears were rolling down his cheek. "What I really want is to find someone who loves me as much as I love them, someone who loves me as a person, not just use me for their sexual pleasure. I want someone who will hold me and kiss me, who will love me and make love to me." By now he was sobbing. "Is that so much to ask?" "No, Peter, it's not." I held out my arms and he moved over to my lap and let me hold him. Tears were running down my own cheeks because of the emotional pain that this boy was in. Now I could clearly understand some of Peter's behavior; taking off his clothes, the dancing. There was a part of him that said that sex is love; sex is how you get attention; sex is something that can take away the pain of lonliness for a while. His intention was to repay my kindness by offering his body to me. I was amazed at the attitude change that I had undergone. A half an hour earlier, all I had wanted to do was get Peter out of his boxers and into my bed. Now, putting my hand on his crotch was the last thing on my mind. Well, maybe not the last thing, but certainly not a very important thing. Peter was a bit ashamed of his tears until he saw my tears. I guess that made him feel better. I did my best to comfort him. It seemed to have worked. After several minutes had passed, Peter's breathing returned to normal. I took the time to think about what I wanted for my own life. I had a fairly decent social life, but was I really happy with it? Finally, I made a decision. "Peter, I was wondering. Would you let me apply for the position of being your full-time lover? I can't promise you that I'm everything you need. But you can try me out for as long as you like. Stay here with me, please?" I could see the skepticism in his face as he asked, "Do you really mean that?" I suspected that he saw my offer as just another come-on line, a way to get some free sex while he got room and board. Guiltily, I wondered if that wasn't really my intention. While Peter rested in my lap from the emotionalism of telling me his life's story, I told him about my own failed attempts to find love. I'd had several different partners, but none of them had ever gone beyond the relief of sexual urges. Many times I had chastised myself for being in bed with someone that I cared nothing for, merely for the sake of a few hours of holding someone in my arms. "Peter," I concluded, "if I really had someone in my life that I cared about, do you think that I'd be picking up stray kids on a Friday evening instead of spending the time in my lover's arms?" In the end, Peter did decide to stay. I figured that if he didn't like the way things were going, he'd leave me just as he had left his own family. I knew that I would have to go out of my way to show him that this was about more than just sex. I wondered how much I really knew about love, and the thought scared me. Although it was still early, a bit past ten o'clock, I thought it might be a good idea to put Peter to bed. The only bed in the place was mine, and the thought of having him sleep on the sofa never once crossed my mind. Once in bed, well, we snuggled our bodies together and within minutes, Peter fell asleep. I continued to hold him, caressing his back, until I too finally fell into a restless slumber. I woke up a little after seven. Even though the curtains were drawn, there was more then enough light in the room to see the face of the gorgeous angel who had slept in the same bed with me. I smiled as the thought struck me that only very rarely had I ever shared a bed with someone for a whole night, and never had it been with someone that I hadn't spent a significant amount of time engaging in sexual activity. I was sorely tempted to uncover the privates of the sleeping beauty who lay on his back beside me. I told myself to be more patient, but it took several minutes before I could finally bring myself to agree to wait before I uncovered his nakedness. I slipped out of bed, slipped on a robe, and managed to not slip on the floor as I went into the kitchen and began making breakfast. I figured that since Peter was in school, he probably wouldn't sleep that late. I was right. As I was setting the table, Peter stumbled into the kitchen with sleep still in his eyes and a tent in his boxers. I had a sudden desire to retire to the bedroom and drink my breakfast in bed, a desire that only intensified when Peter came and gave me a very intimate hug. When Peter reached inside my robe and wrapped his hand around my awakening manhood, a little bell went off in my head. Maybe it was because I have always tended to be the aggressor in my relationships, the person who did the seducing, the one who initiated sexplay - but Peter's action was a turnoff for me. I saw it as the action of a boy who confused sex with love, who provided sexual favors while expecting nothing tangible in return. I resolved that when we first made love, it would be Peter who was the receiver. I gently disengaged from his embrace and kissed him lightly. It was midway through breakfast, as I was admiring Peter's upper body, the delightful tan that evenly covered him, that I realized he had brought no clothes with him, nothing, nada. I asked him about it and he confirmed that it was so. That settled, I steered Peter back to the bedroom. I decided it was time for Peter to allow himself to be pleasured. I took off my bathrobe so we were both wearing only boxers. Standing next to the bed, I pulled him to me and we kissed. Peter's kissing was too frantic. He kept trying to reach inside my boxers and wrap his hand around my erection. I had the impression that he wanted to skip the foreplay and get right to the business of giving me a blowjob. After knocking his hand away several times, I decided to be a bit more blunt about it. I explained about foreplay. He told me that foreplay had never been a part of his sexual experiences; it had always been 'take off the clothes and straightaway work toward orgasm'. So I laid down some guidelines for the morning's activities. "Okay, Peter, here's what we're going to do. Other than hugging and maybe some gentle caressing, you don't touch me at all. I don't want you to respond to me so much as I want you to learn from me. Don't kiss me; pay attention to how I kiss you. Follow my lead, okay?" Peter smiled. "Okay, but I want to play with you too." "That's fine, but not right now. Unless you plan on leaving this afternoon or something, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now it's time for you to take a back seat and enjoy." I started by pulling his boxers off. He immediately tried to reciprocate, but I shook my head no. He smiled and gave his shoulders a little shrug like a boy whose been caught doing something that he shouldn't be doing. I had him turn around so that I could admire his body from all sides. He was evenly tanned everywhere, no tan lines at all. When I commented on that, he explained that there was a swimming pool in his backyard and he went skinny dipping whenever his parents weren't home. His erection was about six inches long. There was no sign of any foreskin and he confirmed that he had been circumcised as a baby. There was a tuft of pubic hair that covered two or maybe three square inches. I guided him backward onto the bed and lay down almost fully on top of him, using my elbows to carry some of my weight. I kissed his face everywhere, from his forehead to his chin, from his left ear to his right ear. Whenever Peter turned to try to kiss me on the lips, I moved and took longer. Finally he got the idea, and I gently kissed around his lips and then directly on his lips. I wouldn't let Peter do anything. When he tried to kiss back, I pulled away. Peter learned to be completely passive and let me have my way. As I probed my tongue against his teeth, he slightly dropped his jaw and let my tongue push his upper and lower teeth apart. When Peter slowly and gradually began to return my kiss, I allowed him to do so. Soon, we were kissing as neither one of us had ever been kissed before. When I first saw Peter I thought that his lips were made for kissing. When he put his mind to it, he was a very good kisser indeed. Not wanting to satiate my libido with nothing more than kissing, I proceeded to kiss Peter's neck and shoulders. For some people, the neck is a highly erogenous zone. Alas, Peter was not one of those people, evincing very little response to kisses there. I moved down to Peter's chest and nipples - lovely, beautiful, gorgeous nipples. While his nipples stood up in cute little points, Peter seemed to have no response to having those titties of his kissed, licked, sucked or nibbled. I was beginning to worry about Peter's lack of response. Did that mean that Peter had become, through his experiences, so focused on penile and anal stimulation that nothing else excited him? I hoped that wasn't the case. Peter's abdominal area and bellybutton were also non-erogenous zones. As near as I could tell, his only source of tenseness came from his anticipation that I would soon be directly stimulating his love pole. His erection had drooped a bit, but it was now back at full mast. I do believe that Peter was much disappointed when I bypassed his groin and moved down to his feet and legs. The bottoms of his feet were too ticklish to even kiss. Even his toes seemed to be super ticklish. It wasn't until I reached the inside of Peter's thighs that I got a significant reaction. It didn't matter if I stroked that area with my fingertips, licked it with my tongue, or kissed it with my lips, Peter would squirm around, alternatively holding his legs together to close me out and spreading his legs apart to provide me with greater access. Jeez! If I had thought that the inside of Peter's thighs were sensitive, his ballsack was much more so. Once I started to lick his pouch, he jerked around enough that I thought he might have an orgasm right then and there. Peter's peter was less sensitive. I alternated between licking and kissing his stiffie and his balls, while stroking my fingertips along the inside of his thighs. Letting my tongue swirl around, I finally relented and put my mouth over the top of his erection. I didn't even get to the point of bobbing my head up and down. Just from my tongue, one hand caressing his ballsack, the other hand on his inner thigh, Peter jerked back and forth a couple of times and shot into my mouth. I had to admit - once I found the areas where Peter was sensitive, he really put a lot of physical energy into his sexual performance. I was quite impressed. Meanwhile, Peter was gasping for breath as though he had just run several blocks. And he had a beautiful smile on his face.