Date: Sun, 8 Dec 2013 21:06:20 -0800 (PST) From: Story Boy Subject: Ashburn Awakening, Part 2 Ashburn Awakening, Part II Author's Note: The following story contains romantic and sexual relationships between adult men and between teenage boys. If you are uncomfortable reading such material, or if it is illegal in your jurisdiction to do so, please do not proceed. This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity between any real persons, places, or events is entirely coincidental and unintentional. Additionally, this story takes place in a setting in which sexual transmitted diseases do not exist. In real life, please practice safe sex with the consenting, adult, partner of your choice. This story is not just about sex. Though graphic sexual elements do appear as plot points in each chapter of the story, there is more to the story than simply sex. This is a story of relationships, and all the good and bad that comes with it. If you wish to read a story that focuses solely on sex, please look elsewhere. Constructive feedback is appreciated. This story may not be reprinted, in whole or in part, anywhere but on the Nifty Archive without the written permission of the author. Feedback: TheStoryBoy@yahoo.com ------------------------------------------------- Seth quickly climbed off of the bench in the steam room, and ran down the hallway to the locker room. He ignored Dave's grunt as he pushed the boy whose cock had just been in his throat out of the way. He didn't even bother to grab his towel to wipe Brian or Dave's cum off of him. All he wanted to do was catch Matt before his roommate left the locker room. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Seth muttered under his breath and he ran back to the locker room, the anxiety and panic welling up inside him. Sure, what he did wasn't really any of Matt's business. And, true, his private life outside of their shared room didn't need to be run past Matt for his approval. But, nonetheless, Sean didn't think that seeing your new roommate being double-teamed and filled with cum only a few hours after meeting would likely make life in the dorm easy. As he rounded the corner back in to the locker room, Seth saw him. Matt was at a locker in the back, only a few down from Seth's own, getting ready to change back in to the clothes he had put on after his shower earlier. "Matt, wait!" Seth called out, approaching his roommate. "I can explain. It's not what it looked like." "Really?" Matt said, turning around to face Seth. "It LOOKED like you were getting tag-teamed by the guys in the steam room." "Well...umm...." Seth started, and then stopped cold. What could he say? Obviously Matt saw enough to figure out exactly what had happened. He couldn't lie. He couldn't just say "No, I was bending over to find my contact lens and the naked bear of a guy behind me was holding my hips to keep me steady. The other guy was there with a hard on because he suffers from a medical condition that causes him to cum constantly, it just happened to land in my mouth by accident." No, he couldn't lie his way out of it. But, to admit it felt as though he would be admitting to a grave sin, a betrayal of his new friend. What he was supposed to be betraying, Seth didn't know. But, nonetheless, he couldn't do it. "Look, Seth," Matt began, "what you do is your business. Yeah, it would have been nice if you had told me you are gay, but that's none of my business if you didn't want to tell me. I just wish I hadn't figured it out by walking in on your getting cream-filled from both sides, dude." "I'm sorry, I should have told you," Seth said, choking back on tears. "God, please don't hate me, Matt." "Dude, I don't hate you. I'm not sure how I feel about what I walked in on, but I don't hate you." "You don't?" "No, I don't," Matt said, taking off his towel and handing it to Seth. "I think you need this a bit more than I do at the moment. You should clean yourself off." "Thanks," Seth said, as he began to clean away the cum which had fallen from his mouth to his chest, and which was also now running down his leg from his stretched hole. While he cleaned himself off, wiping off the loads of his two recent lovers, his eyes inadvertently wondered downward toward Matt's exposed manhood. He hoped it was his imagination, but when Matt took off his towel and handed it to him, Seth could swear that Matt turned away a bit. "You clean yourself up, take a shower, and I'll meet you back in the room later," Matt said, his eyes now focused solely on his clothes as he pulled them out of the locker and quickly slipped his red boxer-briefs back on. "Yeah...okay." "I'm gonna get dressed. I'll see you later." With that, Matt made it clear that the conversation was over. Seth, feeling a bit relieved that Matt didn't yell or scream, still couldn't shake the feeling that seeing what he was doing with Brian and Dave in the steam room had changed things with Matt. He had a roommate that he liked, having lucked out on multiple fronts. Matt was kind, fun to be around, not a party-boy, and had the looks of a Greek god. But, in one moment of giving in to his basest desires, Seth felt that he may have ruined any chance of a decent friendship with him. Seth walked away, toward the showers in the back of the locker room, still feeling the pains of regret and shame. As he past the steam room on his way, he glanced in to find Brian and Dave going for round two with one another. Brian, it seemed, was an insatiable top with an ungodly amount of sexual stamina. The groans of pleasure emanating from Dave were audible even through the door and glass walls of the steam room. On any other night, in any other place, Seth would have likely gone in and hoped for a repeat performance. But, tonight, in the aftermath of Matt's discovery, all Seth could do was look at the scene in the steam room and choke back tears. ----- Matt made his way up the stairs of the King Recreational Center and out the front door. The sun had fully set and the antique sodium-vapor street lamps flanking the pathways on campus were now glowing in their characteristic yellow hue. These lamps had the effect of giving the entire campus of Ashburn College a soft, muted, nearly "place out-of-time" feel. Ashburn College was a historic masterpiece, virtually untouched by the modern world. Technology, which is so ubiquitous as to have become a mandate of the era, was incorporated in to the aging buildings and grounds as unobtrusively as possible. In fact, if one didn't know where to look to see the tell-tale signs of the digital age, one could easily forget that it was the 21st century. Looking around at the centuries-old buildings and the soft yellow-hued lamps casting pools of light to cut away the darkness, one could almost imagine the sounds of horses making their way down the cobblestone paths which still lined this historic college. One could picture tenured professors of philosophy in three-piece suits with gold-chained pocket watches attached to their waistcoats, tipping their hats to visiting mothers who walked by in high-collared and low-hemmed dresses, each lady covered with a lace shawl as a proper lady was wont to do. Cars were not allowed on campus, the antique structure and layout making that a near impossibility anyway. Thus, as Matt emerged in to the soft night of an isolated New England school, the past met the present in a seamless transition which seemed to envelop him in a warm, long-forgotten, memory. ----- "Daddy," a 10 year-old Matt began, "please don't cry." Tim Carson sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a mere three days before Christmas. His twin sons, the two people for whom he would give the world to keep safe and happy, sat on either side of him. Each boy snuggled up against their father, the three Carson men all sharing one large flannel blanket so beloved that the holes it had developed over the years threatened to tear it apart. Just 72 hours before the holiday that all children look forward to year-long, Tim Carson had been laid off from his job at a auto parts factory in the Appalachian foothills of West Virginia. The factory, according to the foreman, was losing business to more and more competition. The small, locally-owned factory couldn't keep up with demand or compete with the speed and price of larger facilities. Thus, in a twist of fate straight from the novels of Charles Dickens, Tim and nearly 100 of his fellow factory-workers were shown the door. On the floor, wrapped in sparkling red and silver paper, were the only gifts Tim had purchased thus far. Under the old artificial tree, decorated with lights and ornaments from Tim's childhood, were two presents a piece for each of his boys. Each of the twins was to receive a new pair of flannel pajamas, a Carson family tradition, even though pajamas were rarely warn except on the coldest of nights. Along with the pajamas, Ryan had a copy of the latest "Harry Potter" novel waiting for him alongside Matt's gift of a couple of books of logic puzzles. He wanted to get so much more for them. His boys deserved to be showered with gifts. They deserved to have the huge Christmas celebrations that they often watched, with a bit of longing and envy, in the sappy movies that graced the television every November and December. But, no matter how he try, Tim could never make that dream a reality. Between paying down the second mortgage on their century-old house, something that monetarily became necessary when Ryan required surgery the previous year to insert pins in to a shattered right arm caused by the twins' getting too rough in their front yard football game, and keeping all of the utilities running and food in the house...well, Tim's resources were strapped in the best of times. Now, with no job and no ability to provide the Christmas for his boys that he so desperately wanted to give, Tim Carson sat on the couch between the two angels in his life, and cried. "Please, Daddy," Ryan echoed, "don't cry. It'll be okay." "Yeah," Matt said, "we don't need Christmas presents. It's okay." Tim was touched by his twin sons' generous spirit and their uncompromising commitment to their small family. No matter how bad things got, no matter how many times Tim had to have the cable shut off or had to skip his own meals in order to afford to feed the boys, Ryan and Matt always stood by his side. When the other kids in their school made fun of the Carsons for being "poor white trash," the boys steeled their nerve and their souls, banding together to protect their father. When, at 5 years-old, their father's aging truck needed a new fuel pump, the boys had gathered up all of their saved change from their piggy banks, totaling a whopping $6.38, and presented it to their father to help fix the truck. Tim knew that there was nothing the Carson men would not do for one another, and he saw that echoed again in the comfort that the boys were showing him now. "Boys," Tim began, wiping his eyes, "that is so sweet of you to say. But, it is Christmas. Christmas is a time for family and for giving. You boys have been so good this year...every year, actually...that you deserve the best Christmas I can give you. You are sweet boys, kind and generous, but you two do need Christmas presents...because I want you to have them." The twins didn't know what to say. Their father was out of a job, this much they understood. They knew that meant that money was going to be even tighter than it normally was. And, on top of that, they knew that their father was going to do everything he could to make sure that they had the best Christmas he could give them. So, until they could do the same for him, the boys just snuggled up tighter to their father and watched the logs burn in the fireplace. "We need to help Daddy," Matt said to Ryan later that night as they took their daily bath together. "Yeah," Ryan said, looking down in to the bath water and absent-mindedly playing with his toes. "We need to find him a new job," continued Matt. "He's always happier when he has a job. And he's so sad right now." "How can we do that? I don't know how grown-ups get jobs." "We'll tell everyone to hire him. Daddy's great! He's a hard worker, and he's never late, and he's nice. They'll have to hire him!" "But where do we go to do that?" "Everywhere!" Matt said, his voice now giddy with excitement. "We'll go everywhere. We can make things to give to people which tells them about Daddy, and someone will hire him!" By now, Ryan's excitement was growing alongside that of his twin brother and he nodded enthusiastically as Matt laid out his plan for giving Daddy a good Christmas. Later that night, as Tim took a walk around the neighborhood to clear his mind, Ryan and Matt sat at the kitchen table and made up about three dozen hand-made flyers with their mismatched box of markers. "Hire my dad" read one, written with a red Crayola marker. "Have a job? Hire Tim!" read another, this one in blue. "No job too big for Tim" read a third in green. On and on the signs went, each one including the Carson family's telephone number at the bottom. When they ran out of notebook paper, the boys started using old handouts from school. Only when six markers, each on its last legs to begin with, had given out on them did the boys finally quit. Carefully, and quickly, they hid the new flyers under the tablecloth on the kitchen table. Tomorrow, a Saturday, they would carry out their plan. When Saturday morning arrived, the boys asked their father for permission to walk down to the stores on Main Street. They lived only a few blocks from there, and Tim trusted both his sons and the small town in which they lived. "Sure," Tim said. "Just be home in time for lunch, okay?" "We will!" the boys chimed in unison. While Tim sat in the living room looking through the morning newspaper, the boys surreptitiously grabbed their homemade flyers and made their way out the front door. On Main Street, the boys set to work. For two hours they handed a flyer to every adult they saw. Each business, nine in total, was given a child-created resume. Each man or woman who parked a nice car (the boys figured nice cars are driven by rich people who might own a business) was handed a hand-scrawled piece of paper urging the person to hire their father. They didn't know if it would work or not, but they felt they had to try. The next afternoon, Christmas Eve Sunday, they found out. Walking out of their bedroom after having just finished a rousing game of "Go Fish," the boys found Tim on the phone, seeming to be in either a state of shock or excitement. The expression on his face made it difficult to tell which. "Yes, of course I know who you are, Mrs. Wainwright," Tim said in to the other end of the phone. "No, I can't say that I did know what they were up to. ...Really? They did what? ...That would probably have been Ryan you talked to. But, if I know my boys, it was likely Matt's idea. I'm really terribly sorry that they bothered you. ...Oh, I'm glad to hear that. I would hate to think that my boys were harassing people. ...Yes, of course I'm familiar with your company. ...No, I used to be in auto-parts manufacturing. ...I'm sure the principles are the same with wood products. ...Wait, I'm sorry, could you repeat that please? ...I...I really don't know what to say, Mrs. Wainwright. ...Okay, Maggie it is. ...No, I'm not busy at all on Wednesday. ...Sure, 3:00 sounds fine. Thank you! ...Of course, see you then! And, Maggie, thank you again. ...Oh, trust me, I'll have a very good chat with my boys. ...Goodbye." With that, Tim hung up the phone and tears started to stream down his face. Maggie Wainwright, owner of a nearby furniture manufacturer, had been the recipient of one of the twins' handmade signs. The handmade flyer she received had "Tim, Tim, he's your man! If he can't do it, no one can!" scrawled in purple ink by an obviously excited 10 year-old. Touched by the boys' devotion to their father, and having recently expanded operations at her factory, the aging owner of Wainwright Furniture decided that Tim certainly warranted an interview. ----- The memory of that Christmas, eight years prior, stuck out in Matt's mind as he made his way across the Ashburn campus back to Stanton Hall. His father had instilled in both him and his twin brother an empathy, compassion, and fervent commitment to help those in need. They never had much in their lives, even after Tim accepted the job at Wainwright. But, what they did have was each other, and a sense of fairness and compassion rarely seen anymore in the exceedingly poor areas of the country from which families often dream of escape, but can never find a way out. Many times over the last 18 years each of the Carson men had gone to bat for one another, or for a friend or neighbor in need. So why, now that Seth obviously needed some compassion and empathy from him, did Matt only feel cold and a bit disgusted by what he had witnessed? Those thoughts plagued him during the slow, meandering walk he made back to his room. Seth as a good person, had been really nice to him all day, and they seemed to be on the path toward a good year together as roommates. Seth's sexuality and sexual behaviors were none of his business, and he certainly had never judged anyone before for such things, no matter what they had done. He hadn't even passed judgment on his elderly neighbor, Mr. Koch, who was discovered to have been secretly photographing middle school boys in the changing rooms of his athletic clothing store. Now, he thought to himself as he opened the door to his empty room, things were different. Matt didn't understand why they were different, really. But, they were. He didn't comprehend what was going on in his own head, but he felt that he couldn't quite look at Seth the same way again. Disquieted by his own thoughts, Matt stripped off his clothes, and climbed in bed. Normally, he would sleep nude. But tonight, for reasons that weren't even clear to himself, he thought it best to keep his boxer briefs on. ----- Seth stood underneath the shower head in the back of the King Recreational Center, very near tears. He knew things would change with Matt, now that his new roommate had caught him with one cock in his ass and spewing cum down his throat. He mentally beat himself up, choked back his tears, and wondered why he had bothered coming here. "I'm so fucking stupid!," Seth thought to himself as the water cascaded down on to his head. "So fucking stupid." The heat of the shower helped to alleviate some of the pain, more emotional than physical, even though his ass ached from the pounding received by Brian's thick cock. Taking the time to savor the calm and the tranquility, which he didn't know would still be there in his room when he returned, Seth pumped some soap in to his hands from the wall-mounted dispenser, and began to wash off. He rubbed the soap first across his chest, moderately defined and nice looking, though not nearly as built as Matt's. He had not inherited the genes his father had for body hair, the elder Warren being quite masculine with a strong coating of dark hair across his chest and stomach. He had always been envious, and a bit lustful, when it came to the manliness of his father. Sadly, Seth had taken after his mother's family, consisting of smaller, rather androgynous men. Moving down to his stomach, Seth washed away the drying cum that had spilled out of his mouth. He could still taste Dave's seed in his mouth, and without intending to, Seth licked his lips and savored the sweet and salty flavor. He rubbed his flat, smooth stomach and focused on the memory of the taste of Dave's cock. He had tasted so good, his cum felt so right as it coated his throat. Lost in the mixture of emotional turmoil and lustful memories, Seth's head began to spin. He closed his eyes and moved his hands down to his growing erection. Despite the fear of losing his potential friendship with Matt still swarming his brain, and the tears still on the verge of falling, Seth's mind couldn't help but take him back to the action of just a short while ago. He couldn't help but relive the undeniable ecstasy of being filled from both ends, his body becoming a receptacle for the cum of those two hot men. He loved cock, and he knew that he would do anything he could to get it. ----- "Yeah, you're my dirty little boy, aren't you?" Seth heard Uncle Ron say one night, as he had made his way from Ron's guest bedroom to the guest bath down the hall. It was summer, 2008. School had just let out for the year, and Seth had been sent on a week-long getaway to his Uncle Ron's home on Martha's Vineyard. As an only child, Seth was used to being left to his own devices, even when visiting Uncle Ron, the "confirmed bachelor" of the family. Seth's parents, having celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary just two days prior, had booked a week-long trip to the Bahamas to celebrate. Having your 13 year-old son along for a romantic second honeymoon certainly wouldn't add to the romance. So, in an effort to give the growing teen something to do, Mrs. Warren had called up her munch younger brother Ron, and asked if he would "babysit" for the week. "Babysit? Fuck that!" Seth thought to himself as he rode the train, absently playing with the zipper on his jacket. He was leaving behind his home in the wealthy Boston suburb of Weston, bound for ferry that would take him from Cape Cod to Martha's Vineyard. Though he liked his Uncle Ron, he wasn't looking forward to a full week at the man's home with no other kids around. His uncle would be fun, would make sure he was shown a good time. But, a 15 year-old and a 28 year-old don't often have a lot in common. Uncle Ron was a "confirmed bachelor," or someone who "preferred the company of men," to quote Mrs. Warren's all-too-proper way of speaking. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth was secretly happy about it. Uncle Ron had always been very warm and affectionate with his only nephew. Seth was lavished with gifts and affection, and often let Seth get away with things his mother wouldn't. Having a woman around would have, likely, stifled Uncle Ron's care-free attitude; an attitude Seth's mother tolerated with just barely contained hostility. Catherine Warren (née Sullivan) was a proper woman. "Too proper," to Seth's way of thinking. She was a woman whose entire life revolved around "what would the neighbors say?" With Catherine, the clothes had to be the right brands, the car the right model, and the house in the right zip code. Sure, she approved of the clothes her baby brother wore, the car he drove, and the house he owned. But, the men that came and went from his house (according to Seth's father there were quite a few of them)? Well, Catherine certainly didn't approve where that was concerned. Seth didn't know exactly what Uncle Ron did for a living, but he knew it was a lucrative job. Homes on Martha's Vineyard don't come cheap, and Uncle Ron had no problem paying for his house there, his apartment in Manhattan, and at least three different high-end sports cars. All Seth knew was that Uncle Ron was "in the arts," as his mother would say. When asked for more information, Catherine would quickly change the subject. But, in the end, it didn't matter. Seth liked his Uncle Ron, and liked he was treated by the man. True to form, Uncle Ron lavished affection and attention on Seth from the moment of his arrival. Seth was taken out to a nice dinner and then taken for a drive around the island. The view was amazing, and in Ron's comfortable BMW it was even nicer. Following an hour-long driving tour of the island, Ron took Seth shopping for new clothes. Having missed his nephew's birthday the month prior, Ron wanted to make up for it. And, as always, he certainly did. Seth walked out of the shopping center with bags upon bags of new clothes. Shirts, pants, socks, shoes...Uncle Ron didn't miss a thing. They hit athletic stores, stores for dress clothes, shops for underwear, and surf shops. Seth got more clothes that night from Uncle Ron than he had even brought with him for the week. "So, let's have you try on your new clothes for me," Ron said as they stood in the kitchen of Ron's home, later that night. "You got quite a haul, stud, so let's see what you got." Seth loved it when Uncle Ron called him "stud." It made him feel older, more attractive, and appreciated. It was better than his mom calling him "baby" or his dad, whose favorite moniker was "kidd-o." It made him want to keep his wonderful uncle happy. "Sure," Seth said, happily. "What should I try on first?" "Whatever you like! Go pick something out," Ron replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Seth disappeared down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom, put on a pair of his new jeans and a new Calvin Klein shirt. "So, what do you think?" Seth asked as he made his way back in to the kitchen. "Looks good! Red's a good color on you. Turn around, let's see the back," Ron said, setting his coffee cup down. Reaching for the waistband on Seth's jeans, Ron ran his fingers around the waist, his fingers grazing the skin of the younger boy's back and stomach. "Let's see something else! I wanna see you model the whole wardrobe," Ron said, playfully smacking his teenage nephew on the ass. For the next hour, Seth modeled his purchases. Suits, jeans, t-shirts, dress clothes, sweaters, and ties; Seth modeled it all. He felt amazing. With each outfit he tried on, Ron lavished him with compliments. He was called "stud" so many times he lost count. A few times, though Seth wasn't sure, he could swear he heard Ron call him "sexy." "So, there you go! That's all of it," Seth said, standing in the dress slacks, blue button-down shirt, and black vest that he saved for the end. "Umm...no, I don't think so, stud," Ron replied with a smile. "Uh...Yeah, I don't have anything else. That's it...except the underwear." "Well, you better go get them. I want to see everything on you. I have to make sure that my nephew looks good in his clothes, and can turn the girls' heads at school this fall." "Uh...just my underwear?" Seth asked, a bit unsure but still a bit intrigued. "Yeah, every man needs underwear that fits properly, holds his boys in place, and makes his package - especially a growing package like yours - look as big as possible." "But, no one really sees my...uh..'package'," Seth lied. The friends in his sex group saw his package, and then some. But, he wasn't about to violate the first rule of his club by telling Uncle Ron that. "Oh, sure they do!" Uncle Ron said. "You change clothes for gym, don't you?" "Yeah." "And you think the other boys don't look?" "I don't know." Again, Seth was lying. He had seen more than his share of the boys in his school examine one another as they peeled out of their normal school uniforms and put on their gym gear. Hell, Seth looked forward to that part of the day. "Well, I guarantee that the boys are looking when you strip down." "Why would they look?" On this, Seth was genuinely curious. He saw the boys all looking at each other, every day as a matter of fact. But, he didn't know why. For him, it was purely sexual. For the other boys in the school? Seth genuinely didn't know why they would want to look. "Every guy is curious. We all want to see the competition...especially when you're a teenager. You have to see how you compare to the other boys; whose is bigger, who is circumcised, who isn't, who has hair on their balls, who doesn't. It's perfectly natural, stud, so nothing to be ashamed of. I'll bet you've snuck a peak or two, haven't you?" With that, Uncle Ron took a sip of his coffee and gave a wry smile to his young nephew. Seth froze. He could feel the blood rush out of his face and in to his growing teenage cock. He felt, at once, both exposed and excited. Here was his uncle, a gorgeous man of only 28, openly talking about looking at the dicks and balls of other men. It was so exciting to hear him, but he was still terrified to admit it. "Come on," Uncle Ron prodded. "You can tell me. I'm not going to judge you and you won't be in trouble." Seth was still frozen in a combination of panic and teenage sexual lust. "Look," he said as he put his coffee down and took a few steps forward toward Seth. Placing his hands on the younger boy's shoulders, Ron continued. "I'm not like my older sister," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I love your mother. But, let's be honest, okay? She's a prude. She's got a stick so far up her ass that it is probably what is holding her head nose in the air so high." Seth couldn't help it, he laughed hard at that one. He loved his mother, but Uncle Ron was right. His sister, Seth's mother, was a prude and kind of a bitch at times. "It's just us boys this weekend, Seth. Your mother's rules? Fuck 'em! This week, it is you and me. I want you to be free to be yourself. Whatever we say, whatever we do, it's just between us. Nothing you say or do this week will ever get back to your parents. If you want to sleep late, sleep late. If you want to stay awake all night, then do it. Hell, stud, if you want to go skinny dipping in the pool or hot tub at 4:00 in the morning, then strip and get in! No rules this week, just the two of us guys being guys!" Seth relaxed, noticeably, at this. Uncle Ron was great, and maybe this week would turn out to be a lot more fun than he had anticipated. "Okay," Seth said, "thanks Uncle Ron." "Now, let's see those new undies, Seth. We have to make sure they fit you right." With that, Seth returned to the bathroom and stripped naked. He fingered through the dozen different pair Uncle Ron had bought him, and tried on first a pair of black briefs. They fit him snug, but were comfortable overall, and he thought they looked good on him. Returning to the kitchen, he turned around slowly for his uncle. "Okay, what do you think?" "Well, I think those are a good start! They fit you well," Ron said, running his fingers between the waistband of the briefs and Seth's soft skin. "Let's see some more." With each pair, the routine repeated. Seth modeled his briefs, Ron ran his fingers between the waistband or between the elastic of the leg and Seth's thigh. After the fourth pair, Ron suggested that Seth just bring all of them out to the kitchen and change here, so he wouldn't have to keep running back and forth between the kitchen and bathroom. Though Seth had some reservations about being nude in front of his uncle, but he wanted to keep the man happy, so he complied. Stripping out of the blue briefs he was wearing now, Seth reached for a pair of purple ones with green dots down one side and across the fly. He turned his back on his uncle, now worried about getting hard while he changed. Bending over to slide the briefs over his leg, he could have sworn he heard a bit of a groan from his uncle. "Okay, so I really like this pair, I think," Seth said, turning back to face Ron. "Yeah, stud, they umm...really...look good on you. Let's check the fit." He was expecting this. He knew that Uncle Ron would run his fingers between the band of the waist or the legs and his skin. This time, Ron chose the band of the legs. Sliding his fingers between his hip and the briefs, Ron moved more slowly than he had last time. His fingers rubbed the smooth skin of the teenager's thigh, and moved toward the crotch. With just a hint of skin-on-skin contact, so light that Seth wasn't entirely sure he felt it, Ron's fingers grazed the soft, hairless skin covering Seth's balls. It sent a shiver down the teenager's spine, and caused his cock to begin to harden. "Umm...let me try on the next pair," Seth said, turning away again to grab another pair. He kept his back to his uncle as he swapped out his purple briefs for a pair of red ones with a white tribal design across the seat. He was obviously hard, and he did his best to conceal it in his underwear, hoping that Uncle Ron wouldn't notice. Turning back around, he tried to keep his hands in front of his crotch to hide his erection. But, when Ron checked the fit on these, he moved toward the boy's waistband. Again, his hands moved slower, and when his fingers were moving toward Seth's belly, Ron slipped his hand in just a tiny bit deeper than before. Though it was light, it was obvious this time: Ron's fingers lightly touched the head of Seth's dick. A drop of precum dripped out of the boy, and Seth knew that Ron took just a second to touch it before pulling his hands back out. Seth turned around, ready to try on another pair, but then he paused. He turned back, and saw his uncle pull the finger that had touched the head of his dick out of his mouth. "Umm, uncle Ron, the rest of the underwear are all cut the same. So, those should fit just fine." "All of them are the same? What about that white pair?" Seth knew which pair the man meant. At Uncle Ron's encouragement, Seth had broken down and picked a white pair of briefs, covered in a blue scroll pattern. The material, unlike the cotton or the spandex of all the others, was a sheer, tightly-woven mesh. They were, with no possible interpretation otherwise, see-through. "I...I don't know...." Seth's voice trailed off. "Come on, stud, it's just boys," Ron said. Oh, God! Seth was so turned on. He really wanted this. He wanted to put on his sheer, see-through briefs. His cock was rock hard, and the precum was flowing quite well by now. He wanted to strut, to show off his body to his uncle. Seth longed for the attention his beautiful Uncle Ron was showing him. But, despite that, he was still afraid that he was misreading things. Would Uncle Ron see his hard cock through the briefs, and then report back to Catherine about how much of a pervert his son was? Would the precum seep through the fabric, causing Ron to call up Seth's father and demand, with disgust, that someone come pick the boy up? He wanted to show off, but he was still scared that he was going to screw up. "Umm..." Seth muttered, his eyes moving downward to his crotch. "What? A bit nervous about being hard?" Ron said, his voice calming and reassuring. "Don't worry about it, okay Seth? Look, we are both men. We both have a penis. Penises get hard, they sometimes leak when we are hard. It's okay. I won't judge, and I won't tell. But, if you don't want to, it's okay." "No...I want to. You promise it's okay? You won't think I'm bad for being hard? You won't tell my parents?" "Oh, no, Seth. I'll never judge, and I promised that nothing from this week - and I mean nothing - will get back to your parents." "Okay..." Seth said, in a moment of brazen bravery, as he shucked his underwear to the floor and slipped on the sheer white ones. He adjusted his cock, this time to make it more prominent. "What do you think?" "Oh wow, Seth. Those are...umm...well, those are perfect on you. Your package looks really big, you should be proud of it in those. I would have been jealous if I was your age and saw that in the locker room. My own package didn't get bigger, really, until I was about 18. I was a late bloomer. You? Well...oh...yeah, that's nice." With Uncle Ron's compliments and encouragement making him feel sexual, beautiful, and proud of his cock, the precum flowed more. By the time Ron had finished talking, there was a stream of clear, sticky, sweet precum slowly dripping down the outside of his mesh briefs. "Since it's so late," Ron said, "why bother changing? You can just stay in those the rest of the night, if you like." "Yeah...okay," Seth said. "That'd be more comfortable. But, I don't wanna be the only one in my underwear." His boldness came out of nowhere, but now that it was broached, he wasn't looking back...not tonight anyway. Ron agreed, and with little ceremony he began to strip in the kitchen. He took off his shirt, showing off his tanned swimmer's body. A light dusting of light brown hair coated his chest and made a trail from this navel down in to the waistband of his pants. Removing his jeans, Seth saw that his uncle favored briefs as well. His were royal blue, with gold and silver fleur-de-lis down one said and across his crotch, just like the dots had been on Seth's. Made of lycra, they showed off every bump and curve of Ron's sizeable, and obviously erect, package. Seth couldn't help it, it made him stare and made the precum flow more. "There," Ron said with a grin, "now it's just us boys being boys. We can be comfortable in our underwear together, all week if you like." "Uh huh..." Seth squeaked, his eyes not moving from his uncle's body and prominent crotch. They spent the rest of the night in the living room, curled up next to each other on the couch. Their legs would rub together, their arms would touch. The watched movies, and occasionally Ron would give Seth's thigh a brief rub. If Seth's dick had gone soft, this would always make it stir to life again. Hours passed, the two men constantly in a state of semi-arousal, their bodies moving closer and closer together as one movie led to another. Though he didn't know when it had happened, Seth fell asleep on the couch. Ron, in a tender moment, picked up the sleeping teenager, still short for his age, and carried him upstairs. Seth awoke two hours later, his bladder screaming. As he made his way down the hall from his bed to the guest bathroom, he passed by Uncle Ron's bedroom. The door was cracked slightly, and the bedside lamp was still on. "Yeah, you're my dirty little boy, aren't you?" Seth heard his uncle say. Peaking in, he couldn't believe his eyes. There laid his uncle, naked on his bed. His cock was shining with lube as he moved his left hand up and down his thick, long shaft. In his right hand, Seth could see he had something black and plastic. It was vibrating as Ron inserted it in to his ass, only to pull it out and place it back in again. Watching his uncle masturbate in front of him, fucking his ass with a vibrator was too much for the horny teenager. Seth slipped his own left hand in to the mesh briefs and began to stroke. "Yeah, Seth, you're my dirty little boy, aren't you? You loved looking at Uncle Ron's cock. Yeah, Seth, fuck your uncle's tight hole. Give me that teenage cock!" Seth backed up from the door, looked down, and realized that he had shot a load of teenage cum in his briefs. The sticky white cum oozed through the fabric, and began to drip down, pooling at Seth's feet on the hardwood floors. ----- His shower finished, and his mind still a rush of emotions and turmoil, Seth turned off the water and stepped out of the showers of the King Recreational Center. He had to talk to Matt, he knew. But, he still didn't know what to say. After he gathered his belongings, he exited the building in to the night. The campus was quiet, and that suited Seth just fine. He didn't want any distractions, and didn't want to see any people. He just wanted to get back to his room, back to Matt, and hope that this could all be settled. Ten minutes later, Seth turned the key in the lock of his door, and gently pushed it open. It was dark in the room, and Seth could see that Matt was already in bed. He internally sighed to that, but entered the room and crossed past Matt's bed to his own. Seth stripped naked, climbed in to bed, and stared up at the ceiling for quite a while. Finally, he tried his luck. "Matt," he said softly, "you awake? I think we need to talk." No response greeted his ears, and Seth knew that Matt was out cold for the night. Tomorrow would have to do, he figured. Seth just hoped that it could be resolved. Thinking back on what Matt had walked in on, Seth quietly removed the blanket from him, and lay naked in the moonlight. His cock had grown, thinking about the two men in the steam room, and of course going back to his Uncle Ron as his thoughts often did. He slowly started stroking his hand up and down, savoring the natural lubrication caused by his leaking and throbbing member. On the other side of the shared bedside table, Matt opened his eyes, no longer feigning sleep. He watched as his roommate, bathed in the gentle moonlight that cascaded through the sheer curtains over their window, worked his cock gently and softly. Matt had never watched another man masturbate, and he slowly...oh so slowly...moved his own hand down, and gripped his own hard cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs.