Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2003 21:32:08 -0600 From: Fredric L. Brothers Subject: ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY - Part 13 (Man/Teen) ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY ----------------------------------------------------------------------- By Fred Brothers Copyright (c) 2003 Fredric Law Brothers - All Rights Reserved -------------------------------------------------------- NOTE CAREFULLY: The following is a copyrighted work and is intended for private, individual use. It may not be reproduced by any known method, distributed or posted on additional web sites without the expressed written consent of the author. Disclaimer: This story is fiction. It bears no connection or resemblance whatsoever to actual or specific persons and/or life experiences or situations. If you do not appreciate gay, intergenerational (that means man/boy love to the uninitiated or brain dead) love stories, or you're under 18 years old, then please leave now! Okay? You have been warned. Enough said! -------------------------------------------------------- Part 13 Our first bona fide kiss - I'm desperately hoping the first of many - is tentative...almost virginal. But the feel of Clay's lips is stupendous. They are soft...pliant...and comfortable. We seem to mesh like two finely produced machine parts. It feels so right ... so completely right. It's everything I desire...Clayton is everything I desire. I cannot recall anything as satisfying...anything as all consuming ... anything as heavenly...in all my years of being sexually active. I feel wonderfully alive and vibrant. And it was only a kiss ...a simple, sweet, practically chaste kiss! Well...not completely chaste. There's some passion...passion from both of us. I'm thrilled that there was enthusiasm from Clay ... real passion ... and not just about his plants and landscaping. It was the first time I'd known him to exhibit such emotion...such apparent sexual desire. As we embrace, I slowly inch my hand from manipulating his leg stump and up and under the back of the athletic shirt he wears. It feels so deliciously decadent...so forbidden...holding and embracing a teenage boy like this. I am comfortable and surprised by the ease if it all. I must readily admit that it is totally mind-blowing! He puts his cheek next to mine and I throw my arms around him. He puts both arms on my back and pulls me closer. Holding his body against my bare chest is marvelous! Our bodies move slightly, and as we do, I feel my nipple bar rubbing him; I get even hotter. He rubs my bare back with his hand and arm stump, and my passions climb even more. I slowly and gently move my hands over his back. I feel his slight musculature through the material of the athletic jersey. I'm wearing nothing aside from my exercise shorts, and the feel of his soft hand and phenomenally silky arm stump on my bare skin is magnificent. I'm exceeding hard and my cock snakes down one leg of the shorts. I'm certain that Clay is aware of it...and its throbbing size and strength. Yet, I now feel only the slightest physical response from the boy. Yes, his breathing has increased and he is definitely perspiring. He begins to push his crotch closer...into mine and onto my thigh...but I can feel nothing happening. There is no apparent swelling ... or throbbing...or...anything...anything that I can notice...notice at all ...coming from down there. He pulls back slightly and moves to kiss my shoulder. I like it. I like that he is taking some initiative and demonstrating a liking at what we're doing. He's been so passive during our days together. I don't know if the passivity is because he is afraid or inexperienced - or both. We smile at each other...then gently maneuver into "position" once again. Our lips touch - tenderly and tentatively at first. Then stronger...more robustly felt...more fiery...more hot blooded ... more fanatical. My feelings surge. The love coursing through me is untamed; it flows through me...and then into him...with uninterrupted and unmistakable passion. I open my mouth slightly and let my tongue caress his moist lips. Clay responds by pressing himself still more forcibly into me...into my encircling arms...into my burning, pounding body. He grips me tightly ...his lips flutter with what I take to be uncontrolled fervor. His moans become louder...and even somewhat fiercer. Again, he raises his leg stump high, and caresses the side of my body and my thigh. It drives me frantic. This acceptance of the love I offer is a positive and reinforcing sensation. He seems to be letting go of some inhibitions and responding to basic instincts and passions. I rub and stroke him from his neck to the top of his delicious butt, making sure I hold onto him securely. I nibble lightly on his quivering lips. They are delicious. He seems to like everything we do together. I have in my arms - clinging tightly to me - my true desire...my man ... the one I have been seeking - knowingly or unknowingly - for my entire life. I know this for sure! I am certain! I am in love with this man ... and hope to the heavens above that he returns that same love. I know that my future happiness is dependant on it. As we continue the embrace, I want him to take the lead. I want him to take the initiative...to do with me...and to me...whatever he wants to do. It is up to him how much further - if at all - we go. And, sure enough, and to my great surprise, he does. Clay pulls back. We gaze at each other. I smile at him and he returns it with a wide one. Yet I sense that he's unsure...unsure of what we are doing...if it is to his liking. His eyes are no longer fixed on my face...but wander - flitting from place to place. He's hesitant. I'm aware of it. I'm sure. Once again, he has this vaguely distant, unfocused look. Maybe it's just a sex rush, but somehow I don't think it is. His body begins to relax. Clay feels limp in my arms. Something is wrong...something is very wrong. "Is everything all right Clay?" I notice that his eyes, usually such a vibrant blue, now appear gray in the shadowy light filtering into the room. He nods. "Yeah...uh, yeah it is." He smiles again - a sort of lopsided half smile. "Didn't you like what we just did?" "Yeah. It was great.... Uh. Real great! " I hang my head slightly. "I somehow...somehow have the feeling there's a `but' on the way. Am I right?" He nods stiffly. "Um...yeah...sorry...there is." I still have my arms resting on his hips. "Do you want to discuss it...tell me what's wrong?" "Okay." He lowers his arms and looks down at the floor. He moves slowly back - away from me. I notice he's now staring at my nipple bar. He smiles when he sees it, apparently remembering the first time he saw it...and played with it. He moves his hand and gently rubs his delicate, long fingers over it once again. I immediately feel shivers running through my body. I breathe deeply and toss my head back. He withdraws his hand...and rubs it softly, and rather quickly, over my chest and pecs. It is a casual move. I know and feel that it's nothing overtly sexual. "You have such a gggreat bbbod Cole. It's ssso, ssso awesome! You know?" I blush. "Thanks." "I really lllove lllookin' at it...and at you. It's lllike... lllike ssso perfect." "Thanks again." "You lllook lllike a rrreal young stud. Wow! Really! You dddo! You lllook rrreally great!" He hops over to his crutches and sets himself on them. "Clay?" He looks up...and stares at me like a suddenly frightened child... a child who has just done something wrong and is anticipating a severe scolding. The color drains from his face, and he seems to be trembling slightly. "Clay? Please! What's the matter? Please tell me." I walk up to him and rub his face with the back of my hand. Again he leans into it, like a kitten being scratched ... desiring contact ... but, simultaneously, not sure if that hand offers what it is really yearning for. He speaks, but doesn't look at me. "I'm fffeeling ... uh ... I'm fffeeling suh-suh-suddenly very, vvvery tie-tie-tired, Cole. You know, sleepy? I thih-thih-think I...uh...need ttto go to mmmy rrroom ... you know, to the geh-geh-guest rrroom. I need a nnnap...to rrrest...I thih- think?" "Would you like me to go with you?" I ask. My voice sounds somewhat whiney and needful. It's as if I'm pleading with him and getting somewhat pissed off at him for his rather abrupt and unpredictable behavior He nods. "Yeah. Uh...meh-meh-maybe...you nuh-nuh-know, maybe you cah-cah-can heh-heh-help mmme...a little?" "Yes. Certainly. I think I'd like that." He again gives me that half smile and moves slowly to the guest bedroom. I turn down the bed and, after propping his crutches close by, he sits down. His head is down, his body slumps forward, his shoulders hunched. I notice he's breathing deeply and is still trembling slightly. "Are you cold?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm okay...jjjust tired, I thih- think." "I realize it's been a busy day for you...both physically and emotionally. Okay? I understand. So why don't you just lie down... rest...try to relax...maybe get some sleep." "Yeah. I thi-think I'll dddo thah-that." He looks up at me, with a rather childlike, pleading look. "Cole? Can I ask yah suh- somethin'?" "Sure. Anything." "Do yah thi-think...ummm...thi-think yah cccould...lllike...rrrub me in with...yah know sssome of that lllotion...again? Llllike yah did lah-lah-last time? Pleeeease?" I'm surprised by his request...but thrilled. "Of course." I flash him a big smile. "I'd be happy to do it. Absolutely!" "Mmmmy arm? Yah know wwwhat I'm sssayin'? Yah ssseem to lllike ruh-ruh-rubbin' it before...and I lllike it tttoo." This time he gives me a full smile. "Yeah. Sure!" I don't know what to make of the request. Is it just something to placate me? Or is his request a genuine appeal for my continued attentions to him. I go into my bathroom and return with two bottles, holding each one up in turn. "This is the one we used, and this one's an extra rich variety ... more softening stuff in it. And it's totally non-greasy. Which one?" He shrugs. "I lllike the smeh-smeh-smell of the one yah use already. Lemme smeh-smell the nnnew one." "It has no fragrance." "Oh." He thinks. "Lets tttry the nnnew one. Okay?" He is lying in the middle of the bed. His hand is resting on the center of his chest - his right arm extended outward. This is the first time I have an unobstructed view of his pits. Since I am now able to see both pits easily, I quickly notice how little hair he has there. Now, I must admit that armpits are a tremendous turn-on for me. While I do not like much body hair on men, I love big, bushy, hairy armpits. I don't know why. I guess consistency is not one of my strong suits. I love to saturate the pits and rub my face into them, savoring the exquisite taste and masculine smells. And while Clay's pits are quite beautiful - wonderfully shaped and molded - they are also almost hairless. I mean they're not totally hairless - small, cute clumps of the beautiful red hair are in each pit. But I'm quite surprised by what I see - or by what I don't see. Or am I? He wiggles slightly to make himself more comfortable. He is breathing deeply...and I watch the rise and fall of his chest. His chest - what I can see of it, since he is wearing a rather loose fitting athletic shirt - is not at all defined. His nipples and breasts are rather prominent, forming volcano-shaped mounds with little peaks; all this above his mostly flat abdomen. I notice something else for the first time. Clay has a small potbelly. It's nothing major but rather obvious now. I never realized it before, but since he is now lying flat on the bed, it seems quite apparent. It begins protruding just below his navel and is so cute. I love everything about his physical appearance. Again, it strikes me how much he resembles a young boy - with beautifully unmuscled arms, leg and chest. While giving my eyes complete freedom to wander where they will, Clay's beauty begins to overwhelm me once more. I'm anxious to continue massaging his arm...to continue to soothe and touch his body. And, maybe - just maybe - be able to touch other still unexplored areas as well. I sit at his right side, moving my hands to grasp Clay's shortened arm. As my hands approach, he raises the stump and I gently take it into my hands. I rub it soothingly and gently. The sensation of his palpitating arm stump, grasped in the palms of my hand, is fantastic. But I notice he's beginning to cry. "What's wrong Clay?" I ask in my most reassuring, but persuasive, voice. He doesn't respond, just closes his eyes, shakes his head and turns away from me. I continue to rub the arm gently. I have not put any lotion on. The skin is so soft...but I feel a callous or two, which I assume is from wearing the prosthesis. I feel the short lengths of bones in the arm, and I purposely press down harder so that I can feel them completely...as best I can. I look closely at his arm. The skin is pale...almost translucent. It has freckles all over, as does much of Clay's body. I gather he hates these freckles, judging from his earlier ramblings about his physical shortcomings. But I think they're quite lovely - handsome really. I can also see the veins slightly below the surface...the blue patterns etched on the delicate skin. I grin when I realize it looks so much like a topographical map. The short length of arm below the elbow is moving rapidly; I gently hold it with both hands, feeling it vibrate in my palms. He is still facing away from me and still seems to be crying lightly. The constant wiggling of his arm stump makes me suspect that he is very nervous. Something's bothering him...bothering him quite severely. I remember Franny's words about him being "off" before he sees his physician. So, I try to ignore his strange reaction ... but for how long? I continue rubbing the arm more forcefully, now working both above and below the elbow. Clay begins to make little moaning sounds between his apparent sobs. I raise his arm and lightly kiss the tip. I rub my lips around the end, and then let my tongue wash the entire surface. He gasps when my tongue begins to lavish attention on the slightly roughened scar. Clay looks at me, and I beam at him. I return to lapping at his lower arm, while my hands massage the upper portion - from the elbow to the shoulder, including his delightful bicep. I begin gently, but gradually, to increase the pressure, while sucking steadily on the stump. Clayton is moaning delightfully and when I look at him, he smiles at me and nods slightly. Soon I gradually move my hand up and into his practically smooth armpit. It is such a soft, downy feeling. The small amount of hair present has the feel of the most delicate silk on my skin. I rub the back of my hand over the smooth skin and the strands of hair, feeling the contours of his anatomy and reveling in the delightful wetness that's developing. I move my mouth over his elbow and to his upper arm. I thoroughly bathe his elbow, again reveling in the softness of his skin...and the unique taste it exudes. I breathe deep and often, paying incredible attention to Clay's unique, and unbelievably delightful aroma. The pleasure is marvelous. It lay beneath the slightly masking odor of the soap he'd used. But it is still quite discernable...and delightful. It is a mild, invigorating fragrance - a wonderful combination of man and boy; the apotheosis of this unique individual. As I move to lightly suck and lick on his bicep, I glance at Clay's face. His expression is rather blank. His eyes are tightly shut and he's breathing moderately through his mouth. But his facial appearance is not one of ecstasy...or excitement...or even happiness or joy. It's an unbrokenly bland look...and I must admit that I find it more than slightly disconcerting. His eyes flutter somewhat and his lips twitch occasionally, but nothing more is to be seen. I cannot remember ever having been with a partner who has returned so little in the way of mutual desire and passion. However, despite some misgivings, I continue my loving care of his body...and, believe me, I relish every second of what I'm doing. Every aspect of Clay's physical appearance is a joy to my senses - everything is making me more stimulated than I remember being. Possibly, because his apparent lack of reaction and demonstrative behavior, I work harder than ever before. I pull every item from my arsenal of sexual tools and techniques. The feel of Clay's incredibly smooth, soft skin on my lips and tongue is electrifying. When I have thoroughly saturated the entire surface of his arm, I lift my head and see the light being reflected off his alabaster skin. I smile but he doesn't see me. I lower my head again, this time aiming directly for his luscious armpit. I kiss his glorious skin very lightly, reveling in the wetness... and the warmth...and the overpowering smoothness...of this glorious area of this marvelous man/boy. The light sprinkling of hair tickles my lips and helps create an enveloping aura of mounting happiness and increasing desire. When I begin to suck the hairs into my mouth and pull them with my lips, Clayton begins to emit a few delightful squeaks and high-pitched grunts. I love this rather demonstrative response - demonstrative for him, that is. As I continue wetting down the delightful hollow, I move one hand gently onto his chest and start to rub very lightly through the jersey he's wearing. As my hand rubs over one of his breasts, Clay flinches and sits straight up. His eyes open and a distinct look of panic is spread across his face. I am at a loss. I don't know what to say or do. I know it sounds like bragging, but I can never remember such an adverse reaction to my lovemaking approach...or my lovemaking techniques. Maybe his age is working against me. Maybe my age is working against me. I withdraw my hands from anywhere near his body. I put them on my lap...and look away. He lies back again. I slowly stand and cover him with the blanket. "I think ... um...I think you should get some...uh ... rest now Clayton. It's been a tough day." I bend over and kiss him lightly on his forehead. I flash him a quick smile. "I'm ssso sssorry Cole. But...buh-buh-but tha-that's...yah nuh- nuh-know ... the fuh-fuh-first time anyone tuh-tuh-touches mmme lllike thah-that." He looks crushed. He avoids looking at me...but stares straight ahead. This means he's staring directly at my crotch - and my still covered, but very erect, cock. The fluids leaking into my underwear and shorts have created dark patches of discoloration around the front. I'm sure he's aware of my situation. "I understand, Clay. I do! I realize we've...uh...that I've just taken things a...uh...well, a little too.... Shit! Never mind." I move away from the bed. "That's all. I'm sorry. Sorry that I've put us both in such...such difficult circumstances." I close the drapes and turn out the lights. "I'll wake you when dinner's ready...and we'll eat ... have a nice dinner together...then I'll drive you home. School day tomorrow. Okay with you?" "Yeah." He immediately turns on his side, facing away from me. I close the door...and just stand outside his room. I lean back. My head is down and I'm feeling rather miserable...and quite disgusted with myself for my lack of restraint. I hear the boy sniffling. My weekend with Clayton is over...over.... I walk slowly, and with some discomfort, into my bedroom. I close the door ... close the door on my future ... and his ... and any future we may have had ... together. The End of Part 13 (To Be Continued ....) -------------------------------------------------------- You have finished Part 13 of my latest story. Thank you. I'm very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but circumstances made the situation unavoidable. Hopefully, future chapters will return to the 10 - 14 day schedule. I'd love to know your reactions to my characters and to the story. Anything you may want to say is greatly appreciated. flbrothers@hotmail.com Please put the name of the story on the subject line of any emails. Thanks again. --------------------------------------------------------