Warnings, etc. This story contains thoughts, ideas, attractions, and erotic feelings of a man for a youth.  If affection or sexual yearnings between two males bothers you, LEAVE.

After First Practice
Chapter 2 of Basketball Camp
by Bob Nelson

After seeing "my David" for the first time, I wandered happily through the campus, then went home.  That evening I fixed Spike and myself  a better dinner than usual.  We often have just canned dog food on kibbles and a frozen TV dinner heated in the microwave.  Yeah, Spike gets some of the TV dinner, and he is so laid back that he'd let me take his food away from him if I wanted it.  But the only thing his dry dog food had going for it was that it was crunchy -- no flavor that I could taste.  Too much aroma in his canned "meat," so I never sampled it.  Tonight I felt like treating us both to a good meal after the eye candy of watching "my David."   He's definitely  the best looking boy at this or any basketball camp!    And he noticed me watching him and waved as I was leaving!   Mm- Hmm!   Yes!   Definite possibilities.   But I will go slowly, gently, and never put either of us in an awkward or dangerous situation.   I just want to get close enough to revel in his physical beauty.    I wonder what his voice sounds like.   I hope he's a nice, quiet kid.   It looked like it from what I saw as I watched him today, interacting with the other boys.   How long did I watch?  Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes?   I sure was fixated on him!

"Supper's over, Spike.  Your turn to wash the dishes.   What?   You already got 'em clean?  Yes,  I know you lick them till not a spot is left."

If I ever have a really obnoxious dinner guest, I'm going to let Spot lick the dishes 'clean' and immediately put them away in the cupboard.   Don't believe I'd have to worry about him or her coming back to eat!   OK, I'll rinse them and we'll go for our evening walk.  As Mutti and Vati taught me, 'After eating, man might rest, but one thousand steps are best.'   They made me say it in German, too: 'Nach dem Essen muss' Mann ruhen, oder tausend Schritte tun.'

"Come on, Spike.  Let's go window shopping -- at the basketball courts."

Spike headed for the front door and his well loved game.   He wagged his long tail so hard that his butt swung sideways.  He looked back to make sure I was following him.  When he got to the front hall the second part began: he put his muzzle on the rug and covered it with one front leg, as though hiding behind his "arm."   I could just see his eye.   As I crept up on him, he wagged harder and harder.   I played my part,  "Oh, what's this?   A doggie nose on my rug!?!   Oh, oh,   here comes a spider!   It's gonna eat  your  nose!   Here comes one on the rug;  and.. he... jumps on the doggie nose!   It's eating your nose!    Look out!   The spider's eating your nose!     Oh, no!  Here comes another one -- down the wall!   It .... jumps onto your nose!   It's eating your nose!"     About the time of the first or second spider attack, Spike's rear end would crash to the rug.  He was just like a little kid,  laughing too hard to stand up.  As he lay full out on the rug, with his "arm" partly over his nose, his tail wagged so hard that  it sounded like a carpet beater.   Some nights five or six spiders ate his nose before he'd had enough and wanted to go out.

Tonight I stopped after three spiders, as my desire to go out made the game less fun than usual.   I remembered the joy of this afternoon's vision -- I mean visual feast:  "my David."   These summer basketball camps normally had an hour to an hour and a half practice after supper.  I think it was to wear the boys out a little and let the coaches get some sleep.   These teenage boys had so much spunk that they'd play around for half the night in the dorms, otherwise.  Wonder how many of them would practice shooting before going to sleep -- baskets, of course.  Yeah.   Right!

Wearing a big smile, I began to walk erectly toward the courts.  That sentence form reminded me of the "Tom Swifties" from the 50's.   Punintentional sentences; for example, "Please be careful with that spear, Tom said, pointedly."  or "Yes, I make all my own furniture, Tom said, craftily."  Oh, I'd forgotten how often they were real groaners.  But we lived in an Ozzie and Harriet world, then.  Even before Leave it to Beaver overlapped Father Knows Best.  Those shows would never be produced, today!   All adult males are now portrayed as bumbling clowns, arrogant assholes, losers, lecherous Lotharios, or a combination of those.   That's why I have to be so cautious.  In that respect,  I had shorts and a T-shirt on, beside my smile.  Well, here we are at the basketball courts.

Yes!   They're in practice.   I see the coaches aren't pushing the boys as hard as in the middle of the day.  On a full stomach a light workout is best.  It loosens up the boys and tires them out enough to sleep when they hit the sack.  Except for the boys high on testosterone, the fun of being away from home, or excitement of a strange place -- either with buddies or with interesting new possibilities.    I wonder if the coaches are still using that old idea, "If you get them tired enough, they won't fool around or get in trouble."  Possibly true for pre-teens, but very few of them ever came to this camp.

All this time I scanned for "my David," but didn't see him.   Then I heard a couple of boys coming downhill from the gym.   Ah, there he is!   Maybe they were last at dinner, had to call home, or just had to go take a whiz halfway through practice.   Well, he's here now and he's going to pass near Spike and me.   Glad I stopped between the gym and the courts.   Mmmmm, I'm getting a good look at him, out of the corner of my eye.  It's hard to tell if his eyes are hazel, green, or what color in these artificial lights.   I see that his eyebrows are thin with that double curve I find so appealing, arching up from near the nose, then down, but tipping back up at the outer ends.  His are so expressive!  He was in an animated discussion with two boys and his face was lively!   Eyebrows furrowed in consideration, up in surprise, then smoothly arched as he laughed with his whole face.  Then one raised and the other lowered with a smirk on his lips to perfectly project his feeling of "Oh, yeah?  I don't believe it!"   Most kids use a lot of facial expression up to a certain age, then think -- or someone tells them -- that it's not "cool."  So they paste on an uptight, arrogant, smirking, or tough look as their trademark.   David still lets his emotions show.  Great!   It's so much fun to watch a kid like that, or better to talk with him.

They're back on the court now.   David takes his T-shirt off, drops it on a clean part of the pavement and sets up to receive a pass.    From the mangled masses of kids around each basket, it's apparently the free play part of practice.   Informal, skins against shirts, half court.   He steps on court and shouts "Hey!  I'm open!"   One of the skins team coming down court shoots it to him, David fakes out an incoming guard, pivots, and fakes  a jump to make another guard go up to block.    Then he makes a fading, fall away jumper -- swish!   Not quite a 3 pointer, but he was at least ten feet from the basket.   "No fair!" one of the shirts team hollers.   "He wasn't even on your team!"   "Not till I saw Timmy hop over to the side, holding his ankle, as y'all came charging down here," David responded with a grin.   Other skins commented "Yeah!  He's our man!"  and  "We told him we'd pick him, at supper," defusing a possible confrontation.    So he's smart and a good player, as well as good looking!    I spent so much time admiring his physical charms this afternoon that I forgot to watch how he played.

Spike and I began walking around the quad courts, outside the chain link fence.   With the lights on, all the action was observable -- and all the boys.   I shouldn't look only at David without my wraparound sunglasses to hide where I was looking.   Moving and walking Spike were a good cover, though.   After two circuits, I chatted with a couple of parents from Maryland.   No deep issues, just social chit chat.   They recognized it the way they introduced themselves.   First names only, no bragging about their house, car, jobs or important friends.   Nice folks, just here to support their son.   They'll probably review his play all on the way home.  Hope they accentuate the positive.   Teenage boys need more positive strokes than most get.  The Dad was focussed much more on the boys than the Mom.   Or maybe she could do two things at one time.

When the whistles blew I asked, "Which one is your boy?"

"We have two sons here, this year.  Josh is in his last year, since he's a rising Senior, and this is Jeff's first year here.   He could have come last year, but Josh told him he'd show him a lot of what he'd learned here after he got home.  Josh worked with Jeff a lot during the next two months then suggested he practice hard on his own,  so he'd look more naturally talented when he got here."

"Pretty astute for a High School Sophomore and his little brother.  You two must have encouraged them to work together, play together, and do their problem solving together."

They both beamed,  "That's exactly the way we explained it to them!   We have encouraged them to use that attitude in school, in Scouts, in the Church, and in sports.   And to back each other up.   At first Josh thought he was the only one who knew anything, so he should make all the decisions, and being the biggest he'd never need Jeff's help in a tough situation.   But last year Jeff and some of his friends were 'backups' to their older brothers in what could have been an ugly race riot.  Just stuck out their chests, pushed forward and shouted louder than the group who were harassing Josh and his friends.   After that, Josh bragged that his little brother was his big protector.   It made Jeff feel ten feet tall and brought the boys even closer together."   Hmmm, maybe "Ozzie and Harriet" aren't dead, after all.

As the evening practice started breaking up I said, "Well, I'll head on so you can talk to your fine sons!  Glad they're that good!"   That made their smiles even wider.   I headed for the boys' dorm, to try to run into "my David."   I strolled slowly and my luck was fantastic!  About the time we crossed the main road,  "David" came up alongside me and casually said,

"Hi,  how are you tonight?" as though we were old friends.   His voice had changed to a nice adolescent tenor, with some deeper resonance starting.  Perfect articulation, though he was slightly breathy, which sounded quite intimate.

I tried to answer just as casually, "Fine.  Great night for me to walk Spike, and we enjoyed watching you guys practice.  You looked great."

David looked up at me and smiled broadly, which sent a jolt to my dick.  "Yeah, I saw you and Spike there this afternoon and hoped you'd be back tonight."

Oh, that was too good an opening to pass up!    "Well, Sir, how about a soda to celebrate a good opening day of camp?"

My "David" thought quickly to give us extra options, "Well,  the machines in my dorm are all out of the kind I like.    Are there any other machines on campus?"

"Sure, and Spike and I know where they all are.   Got time to head over to the Post Office?  It's usually open till 10 P.M., and maybe the others haven't discovered its machines."

"Good idea!   Hey, Charlie!  Tell Coach that I'm going to the Post Office building with my Dad's friend and I'll be back before lights out!"

"OK, David!  I'll tell him.  See ya!" answered the boy.

Very cool!   He let them know that he knew me, where we were going, and that he'd be back in good time.    He called Charlie by name so Charlie would call him by name when he  answered.   His name IS David!!  What a sharp kid!   What a gorgeous boy!    His eyes are hazel, with flecks of gold in them.  His pinkish-tan lips turn up at the corners to give him a constant small smile.   While he talked, his lips and eyebrows danced.   Every part was perfect, including his name!   We turned away from the group and walked down to the sidewalk which was parallel to the main drag, then followed it to the Post Office.   We made comments about the weather till we were fifty feet away from the boys, when I said,

"That was so cool, David,  to let Charlie think I'm one of your Dad's friends, where we're going, and that you'll be back on time.   By the way, my name's Bob."   I patted him on the shoulder, since it might seem odd for us to suddenly shake hands as though just meeting.

David turned to me with, "Well, I felt you watching me this afternoon.  You know, some people can tell whenever anyone's looking at them.  I can do that, and I knew from the feeling that you're an OK guy.   Your intense gaze made me feel special, able to play better, see the openings better, and shoot better, like you were helping me.  It felt like you were so interested in me that I wanted to do my best, and I hoped I could meet you.    When you came back tonight and watched me for another half hour, I had to meet you.  And I was right!" he said, as he turned that dazzling smile on me.

I was stunned by his open eagerness, and replied, "Yes, I did watch you a long time today, and again, tonight.   There's something about you that made me want to soak up all I could, in case looking was all I could do.  I think you're the handsomest, best coordinated  young man here."

Again, David beamed, but this time put his hand in mine and began swinging our hands, like an uncle and his favorite nephew on their way to the soda shop.   His skin was like silk, and his hand so firm that I began to get a boner.

David kept looking ahead, but said, "Like holding hands?  I sure do."

I almost choked as I replied, "It feels better than anything I've had in my hand for a week."  Then I realized how that sounded... unconsciously I'd compared his hand to my dick!

Still looking ahead, he responded "Well, yours feels pretty hard."

Oh, shit!  Was he talking about my hand or my dick?? I broke out in a cold sweat and almost stumbled.

David held my hand tighter, as though to help steady me, and continued "Hard hands show that you work at more than just a desk job.   Done much work, lately?"

It was a good thing we had the Post Office between us and the dorms, with the unexpected comments from David.  It was frustrating that it was locked, as we would have had a lot more privacy inside.  I wanted to -- no,  needed to look at him closely and possibly enfold his male beauty in a hug!   He was so cool and obviously was encouraging me.  We were on the side facing the main street through campus.  Not safe or secure, but better than hiding, which would be a Red Alert to the Campus Cops!

"Damn!  You know how to get my attention and totally shake me up!  But you're so cool and self-confident that I feel like you're the adult and I'm an excited kid.  Do you realize how much danger you'd be in if I was a child molester??"

"Well, I told you I have a real good radar detector to let me know who's scoping me out, and a good gaydar detector to let me know if it's worth me responding.   You pass on both."

I choked!  Literally choked and couldn't catch my breath for a minute.  Then I began coughing.  David reached around and pounded me on the back until I got control, then I leaned against the Post Office wall, weak, overwhelmed by his openness and acceptance, with a huge grin on my face.

"Well, what do we do, now?  I'm ready for something,"  he calmly stated.

"David,  I admit I was attracted to you the moment I saw you.   I'm a sucker for good looking young blondes, especially strawberry blondes.  And you're the best I've seen in years."

"You said sucker and you didn't specify girls, when you said blondes.  I'm glad you like me.  How am I the best?" David asked.  His tone of voice was without guile, his face open and smiling.  He was just like I'd hoped he'd be when I saw him on the courts.

"David, I'm amazed at you!  And so happy you turned out like I thought -- a nice young man, smart and gorgeous but  not conceited....   No, let me finish.   You have a very good sense of who you are, without putting others down or following a "hero" around.   You have good moves, good awareness of what's going on around you, and you're quick to figure out what to do in any situation.  We wouldn't be here unless you were.   And --  yes, your gaydar is working OK, too.  I am gay, but I didn't plan to grab you, seduce you, or even touch you.   I would have been happy to just watch you for four days, then remember you afterward."

"You mean while you jacked off, later?" David asked, with a conspiratorial smile and one arched eyebrow.

I choked and began laughing and coughing .  David pounded on my back again, but this time his other hand was on my chest.   As I stopped coughing, the hand in front dropped to my pecs and tweaked a tit.   I jumped like I'd been hit with 1,000 volts.   It felt like I had.

"David!   What are you doing?!?!?"

"Trying to move it along.  We only have four days, and I like you.   I want to DO some things with you, not just have you watch me."

"David,  we can't!  I don't know if you've had sex with another boy, or with a man, but I'd be arrested and tossed in the deepest cell in the penitentiary if the Campus Police caught us.   And they're all on full alert because a few years ago, one of the boys reported he'd been accosted by a man.  No, it was not me.  But that guy had to hire an expensive lawyer who tracked down enough witnesses to prove that he was never alone with the boy.  And also found out the boy had told the same story about one of his High School teachers who was fired without ever having his day in court!    I like you too much to do anything with you till you're legal.  How old are you, by the way?"

"I'll be seventeen in September, and I know what I want, even though I've never done it with anyone."

"You're still a virgin?   Wow, what a wonderful gift you're offering me, what total trust, based on your radar and gaydar.  But that makes it doubly wrong -- I won't and CAN'T be your first, for at least a year and three months.   I shouldn't, even then.   Not that I don't want to or would refuse you if you were legal.  Hell, you are my ideal vision of youth!   I had already named you 'my David' and you may have felt me jump when Charlie called you that."

"Hey, your radar and gaydar are even better than mine!  Why did you think my name was David?"

"Have you studied anything about Italy or Michelangelo?  He sculpted the most beautiful boy he knew and it's been known as his David, ever since.  I saw the original several years ago when I was in the Navy and we were in Italy.  I made a trip to Florence just to see it.  Today when I saw you I knew you reminded me of some boy I'd seen but couldn't think of where.  When I thought hard I realized your hair is a beautiful strawberry blonde and the 'other boy's' hair had no color... then it hit me.  The other boy was Michelangelo's David.    Only you are much more handsome, alert, super sharp, alive --- and gay!   Now I will never think of the other David, again.  I have a new criterion for a young man's beauty and grace.   Oh, hell, there I go, babbling my memories and a history lesson!  Sorry."

David had been gazing into my face raptly all during my spiel, and as soon as I'd finished, he said,

"Sorry?  You're sorry to compare me to the most famous boy statue in the world, and to tell me that  you think I'm better looking???   Yes, I've seen a picture of that David in one of my textbooks, and I went to the National Art Museum in Washington on a volunteer trip last year, mainly to see their copy of it.   Wow!  I'm blown away that you could think I'm that good looking -- but you said better!   Do you know how that makes me feel?   All tingly, all over.   But especially down here."   He grabbed his crotch, but in a slow, almost casual gesture, as though he was just rearranging his package.  Actually, he moved what looked like a growing erection over to his left leg.

"You continually amaze me, David.   You are more handsome -- I'd say gorgeous -- than Mike's David as you are not a boy.  You are a boy-man, well on your way to adulthood.  You already act more mature than some of my adult friends.   It would be wonderful to introduce you to sex, but I will not -- not till you're eighteen!"

"Why not?"  he asked, as he put one hand half way around my back.  He was so astute that he realized giving me a hug could endanger us -- especially me.   "Because I'm a kid and can't know what I want?   That I'm confused, or that you're seducing me?   Seems more like I'm seducing you!   I want you to teach me all about sex, and more.   Lots more!   That's the kind of things I've been dreaming of for four years, now.  Ever since I realized I'm gay and want a man.   A man, not a boy, not a kid, not one of my buddies who has no experience.  Hell, we'd both be fumbling around, not knowing what to do, and probably both have premature ejaculations before we even began to do it."

"David!  Where did you hear about this?  How do you know about some of this?  Are you so sure you want it?   Haven't you ever done anything with a buddy?   That's the way most boys begin, even straight guys -- experimenting to find out if they like it, what they like, how far to go, how or whether to help each other through various experiences, without pain or freaking out from going too fast.   Oh we're going too fast!  Even though you're my ideal fantasy dream boy, I'm freaking out!"

"Easy, Bob.  Just take a deep breath.  Hold it.   Now let it out and look at me.   I see what I want, too.  A good-looking man with a slim waist, broad chest with a bit of hair on it, great looking legs with some soft fur on them.  A man
who cares about his dog, people, and me.  A real man who is not afraid or ashamed to be real and show his emotions.  A mature man with some gray at the temples but almost a full head of hair, kept short.  Hey, losing a little up on top does not make you less of a man or less attractive to me!   A guy who is so shy it makes me look like a hooker.  A man with hazel eyes that are turning greener the closer we get.  A man with an open, expressive face.  A guy who I know will be gentle, slow, and careful.  I do want you to be my first, Bob.  Please?"   With that, he reached down and fondled my dick through my shorts!

"Whoa  David!  Stop that!"  I whispered hoarsely, as I jumped back and snatched his hand away from my crotch.   We were on campus, where anyone could walk by.  The Campus Cops did patrol regularly, especially during sports camps... specifically to prevent old perverts from doing this.   Sure, David started it, and it felt good.  So damned good that now I was leaking  precum like a faucet.   Luckily I'd worn my dark blue shorts.   My khaki ones would have shown the big wet spot that I could feel down there.   I kept hold of his hand, partly to keep his attention, but mostly to keep him from doing it again, even though I desperately wanted him to!

"David, STOP!  That's is the hardest thing I'll ever say, since you are my dream fantasy."

"Hardest thing, you say?   Well, it felt like it was sure getting there, and I'd love to go all the way, Bob, but I respect your rights, too, and would never endanger you.   Yeah, I could probably talk my way out of it if someone saw us here, having sex.  You'd sure be the one they'd blame, and I couldn't live with myself if I caused you pain and grief -- or prison!   OK, I'll be good.   I won't grab you, rub your cock, rub your chest or ass, or try for anything else.   Even though I really, really want to, even more since you stopped us after you'd told me that I am your fantasy dream boy.   I like that!"   He dropped my hand, turned and began walking back toward the dorm.

"Yes, David,  we have to get you back to the dorm.  Thanks for stopping.  What you just did and said makes me more convinced than ever of your maturity and judgment.   It was hard for me to stop after you began coming on to me, but I remember the unstoppable pressure that used to build up in my balls and dick when I was your age.  I was a real slut for a few years from 16 to 19,  although more of it was in my mind and balls than in action.   I only played with a few of my buddies, and only with two of them more than once."

"Well, Bob, it was hard to stop, and it's still hard," he said, glancing down at his boner tenting his shorts and back at me, with his one eyebrow cocked.  Hell, everything about this boy-man was so sexy that I'd begun using sex terms to describe his actions and looks.  Now he was, too.

"I know what you mean, but cocking that eyebrow is the only cocking we're going to do, tonight, my sexy young stud muffin," I teased.

David gave me a surprised glance, then began chuckling when he saw that I was giving him the cocked eyebrow look right back.   His laugh was music to my ears: natural, exhibiting joy, cascading down the scale to a quiet chuckle.  He was going to be all right with us stopping.   Whew!  When I had that thought I got another chill down my back.  I wonder how many men had been accused of sexual acts when they stopped and did not continue, after the boy wanted to?   Dangerous ground, indeed, but this boy's open candor and maturity convinced me that he was in control of his testosterone and was totally trustworthy.   When I was his age I only thought with my "little head" and followed my dick wherever it pointed.   I'd have pushed to continue our little interlude if our ages had been reversed -- and led us both into real danger.   What a lad!   What a find!   What luck that he's got his big head on straight  (so to speak) and in control of his little head!   All these thoughts flickered through my brain in a few seconds.

He responded with a wink, "OK, Bob, I won't rape you until you're willing and I'm legal.   It won't be rape then, will it?"

"No, David.  I will let you plunder, pillage and seduce me then, as I will you, but we couldn't call it rape.  I am absolutely opposed to rape by anyone to anyone.   It's one of the most vicious crimes there is -- only exceeded by murder, in my book.   It usually breaks the spirit of the victim, even if their body is not injured much.   A long-lasting hurt, with fear replacing all trust and hope.   Terrible!  I also do not like nor will I ever engage in any S&M or B&D, or do anything a partner does not want.   Not enough for my partner to say 'OK;' he has to willingly go along or lead eagerly.   Then it's fun for us both.   By the way, do you know what S&M or B&D mean?"

"Oh, sure, Bob.  I have my own computer and my folks trust me, so they didn't try to put those lock-outs on it to keep me off the adult sites.   I don't get into porn very much or very often.   Hell, I'm horny enough thinking about it without seeing or reading about it!  I don't go for that forced dominance shit, or even anal sex."

"Another excellent, adult answer, David.  Hey, are you the adult and I'm the scared kid, here?"

"No, Bob, you are a kind man who made us stop illegal and dangerous actions that would have caused us both problems.   You and I both know, legally and emotionally, that I endangered you -- and that we could have rushed into the forbidden garden and grabbed all the apples before running out.  But I want to do it slowly with you, and gently, and gradually do everything, if you will let me and do it with me.   OK?"

Tears came to my eyes as he said that, and a profound sense of hope.   This most perfect boy-man, the ideal that I had held in my mind's eye, was even more beautiful in his character and inner strength than I had imagined anyone could be, regardless of age.   And if he was this concerned about me, about possibly hurting (or rushing?) me, he was my golden David.   Solid gold, clear through!  I pulled out my handkerchief to blow my nose, as I had held back my tears and now they were running down the inside of my nose.   While I was at it, I wiped the last tears from my lower lids.

"Thanks, David.   My David, you are more man than boy, and exceed all my fantasies.   But, in case your coach or the guys ask who I am, my last name is Nelson, I teach here, have my Ph.D. in Chemistry, and met your Dad when we were at Cal, Berkeley, if he ever was there."

"Hey, way cool, Bob.  No, but were you ever in Michigan?  That's where he went to college, and he got his M.S. in Structural Engineering.   Guess you had a summer there?" he replied with a conspiratorial grin.

"That's right, I went back there about twenty years ago for a special course they taught.   Met him in a discussion group -- well, a B.S. session in the Student Union, really.  We became friends and have kept in touch.  Right?"

"Yeah, that's what he said when I told him I was coming here.  Said to look you up.   Well, good night, Bob, or should I call you Dr. Nelson?"

"No, just Bob is fine, unless you're introducing me to your coach or team mates."

"Great.   Bob, thanks for the Coke and the talk.  Nice to know you remember my Dad," he said loudly as he started up the steps of his dorm.

Several other boys were still sitting outside, drinking sodas or just hanging out, so his comments gave credence to his being friendly with me.    Much more than friendly, of course, but they will never know that.    I felt perfectly secure that David would keep us both like Caesar's wife, 'above suspicion.'

"Goodnight, David,"  I gave a single wave before I turned away.  "Tell him hi for me when you call home.  Come on Spike.  Time for us to go home."

I had luckily lost my hardon during our walk back from the Post Office, as it would have been glaringly obvious in the bright lights they'd installed in front of all the dorms and fraternities.   Safety, security, or entrapment reasons?  Who knows, but my golden David had taken "No" for an answer in a marvelous, manly way.  Not really "no" but more of a "not yet" agreement.   DAMN, what a find!   He exceeds my wildest dreams by about three parsecs!  Oops, there it goes again, sticking out and pointing our way home.  It's OK, we're in the less well-lit part of campus, over toward the edge that I live by.   Let it show!  Let it wave!  I feel so damned good!  No.  I feel ultimately, absolutely, positively fantabulous!  Better than I have felt in years, maybe ever!

Thank God we stopped before anything else happened -- that he let me stop him and helped me, too.   So neither of us have any regrets for impetuous rushing into unsafe or unreciprocated sexual passion and frenzy.   No fear of what that quickie might have caused, emotionally or even health wise.   Well, it was hugely and wonderfully sexy, tonight, and I guess one could say it was the safest sex I've ever had, and some of the best.   Just as a carefully chosen and prepared appetizer makes you more hungry for the main course, without sating your hunger at all, my golden David had titillated and teased me with his looks, his charm, his wit, his character, and most of all his willingness to wait.  Yes, it had been a tacit agreement to wait till he was eighteen.   I don't know and I'm not about to wonder if he's going to remain a virgin till we do it.   That would be too much to ask or expect.   But we agreed "when", not "if" -- and if I keep thinking of all his attributes and what we will do, I'll have a premature ejaculation on my way home!

Time to think of other things -- of shoes and ships and ceiling wax, and cabbages and kings.   Oh, I know, it's 'sealing wax' but when I first heard that poem I had never heard of that, so substituted the homonym.   Wondered for a couple of years who would wax their ceilings.   Imagine it would be very tough to buff it.   Jimmy Buffit?  Jimmy at the buffet?  What was it that the Walrus and the Carpenter ate as they strolled the beach?  Oh, yes, the clams whom they'd invited to take a walk with them.  Oh, oh, I was doing fine in my free associations until then.   Now I mentioned eating the one I'd invited to take a walk with me, and boing!  There it is, up again.   Hardly visible in these shorts, in this light.   That's better than visibly hard!

"Here we are, Spike.   Let's get you a treat for being such a good dog.   You sure like David, don't you?   He scratched you behind the ears and under the chin, then back on your flanks and above your tail.  How'd he know all your favorite spots?"

Come to think of it, how'd he know all mine?    I was so damned close to yielding, grabbing his dick, ripping off his clothes and swallowing his boy dick that I was in the Danger Zone, just like in Top Gun.  Hell, I almost got on top and fired my gun!   Sure hope I can hold off, keep my hands off him, and convince him to keep his off me for the next three days.   Wait!?!   What a helluva word, but I'll think of it as an appetizer -- or in this case, an appeteaser.   Mm Hmmm!   He is most definitely worth waiting for!   I'll wait.   Of course, it will mean giving up my active social-sex life.  Yeah, it happens almost a couple of times a year in this swingin' Southern, Bible belt town.   Maybe I can get a photo or two of David before he leaves, so I'll have a target for my late night target practice.    Nightly target practice with that face and body?  I'll have to enclose it in sperm proof plastic, though, or it will be soggy as hell in a few days.   Hmmm.

"OK, Spike, here's your treat.  Good boy.   Yes, you can sleep at the foot of my bed.  You are such a good dog that you even learned to sleep quietly, so you don't disturb me with your moans, deep sighs or ear flapping.  Your new dog food has eliminated your doggie farts, too, so you're welcome to join me.  Tonight I might keep you awake for a while, as I fondly relive today."

What a boy!  What a young man!  What a day!   His "radar and gaydar" and his completely open trust and want!  But his willingness to cool it and back off let me know that he has integrity and control yet he still wants me.  Wants ME!   I don't know what he sees in me, but it humbles me and makes me sure there's a God who made us gay and who loves us enough to give us each a person who exceeds our wildest wet dreams.   David surely exceeds mine!    Ah, look who's standing up, looking for David.   Time to take matters in hand.   Oh, lots of precum already, just remembering his looks -- and his eyes, his eyebrows, his voice, his smell.   Hmm, hadn't consciously thought of it, but his smell was special -- kind of woodsy, spicy, warm, with a hint of boy sweat, but an undertone of clean boy and soap.   Another sensation.   Yes, now rub the precum all around the little head, with my eyes closed to relive our time beside the Post Office.   The shock of his telling me he knew I'd watched him a lot -- was he going to turn me in?   Then the real ball banger shock of him telling me that he realized I was gay!   General Quarters, Five alarm fire, and all the other total alarms.   Immediately soothed by "It's OK, so am I," in the friendliest, most intimate and sharing way.   He really is totally comfortable with being gay.   Fantastic.   It's so much easier for gay boys these days -- I hope.   But how in the world has he been able to protect his virginity, as gorgeous as he is?   Guess that's why he's put so much time into sports.   It provides exercise to build and tone muscle, speed to fight off attackers, and sublimates his juices till he decides who, when and where.   Yeah, he is so much more mature that I was at his age -- Hell, he acted more mature than I did, tonight!   Don't think I could have said "No" one more time, with his hand on my dick.

That feeling is still tingling, as I pretend that it's HIS hand stroking me, twisting as he reaches the top, smearing more precum all over my glans, squeezing it slightly, then stroking slowly back down, tightening up on the upstrokes.  Down, tightly up, rotate, squeeze, rub in precum, and repeat,  --- and  repeat.   Faster, now,   and now faster --- NO,  slow it down to stretch it out.   Well, that was my first reason to squeeze and pull harder on the upstroke: tried to stretch my dick.    Didn't help it grow longer.   Still just six and one half inches, but slim and straight.   Never had any complaints.   Just last year a guy told me I have a "gorgeous dick."   Guess he's like me, not a size queen, as long as it works well.  The big ones can choke a guy to death!   No, give me a hot dick five to seven inches, slim and straight, head not too big, and I'll be an all day sucker.    Anything over seven inches, or "wide as a beer can" (Yeah, Right!) is a cock, to me, and the bigger the cock the less I want to have my jaw or throat stretched.   Now I'm getting closer as I imagine David's dick in my hand, then my hand to mouth action, then sucking on it.  I'll bet it's about six inches, which will look bigger on his trim five foot, eight inch frame.  SO nice and such perfection.  Bet he doesn't have a single hair on his balls or his ass.   Bubble butt to grab and pull his dick all the way into my mouth so his pubes are mashed against my nose... unless his balls are, if he wants to sixty-nine!   As hot as he was tonight, that's a definite possibility.  THAT gave an extra jolt to my balls, and my dick is harder than it's ever been.  Oh, yeah, David, suck that thing and give me all the rich boy cream you've been saving up.  Every blast will go straight down my gullet.  If you like I'll deep throat you some and swallow when your dickhead is in my throat, but I like it best when I can suck up to your crown, pull extra firm suction on it to pull out some more precum, then pull my head back down your shaft with my super suction.   That's why they call me "Super Sucker."

MMmmmm  oh, I may have to share that title with you!   Yeah,  that's the way.   Oh, my golden David, I can feel my balls churning.   Do you want it?  Want to take my load?   Because I want every drop of your nectar.  Yeah, shoot a gallon in my mouth so I can taste every drop, swallowing when I have to, otherwise keeping it in my mouth to swish around your cock as I suck.   Super suck and superior taste, combined.   Like that, eh?  Well, it's here for you any time and every time you want it..

OH,  OH>>>  BLASTING  OFF!!!!   Hhhhha  Hunnnnhhhh,  OHH, ahhhhhhhhh  OHhh,  Ooooooooo, AHhhhnnnnn,  oh David,  you're the world's BEST.  Ohhh  ummmmmm , ummmmmm  yeah, fill me up as I fill you up.   Almost like sucking it out of our own dicks, isn't it?   Oh, you've tried to do that, too?  No, I could never bend far enough to do more than lick the very tip if I was pulling up on my dick so hard that I couldn't stroke it.  Yeah, it would be fun, but this is a Helluva lot more fun!   I mean, solo suckoffs are so one-sided!   It's so much better to share.  This way we give and receive.   Don't know which feels better.   You, too, neither?   No, it is hard to tell.   Guess we'll have to wait a while and try it again, to see if we can tell.   Mmmmmm, got the last of your virgin, Grade A cream, now just letting your dick get soft in my mouth.  It's so wonderful and wilder than I'd imagined.   And I had really imagined some fantastic sex.   No, this is better than sex.   This is making love.   Yeah...  me, too.    Well, turn around and come here.   I want to snuggle you onto my chest and kiss you goodnight.   Mmmmmm, what is that flavor?  The blend of both our cums.   Well, I like it, too.  Yeah, special blend, rare and very exotic.  Just right?  Oh, perfect.  Yeah, I think so, too.  Remember that taste so we can compare it several more times.   One more kiss--- OK, several more......     Now, we've got to get you some sleep so you can play well, tomorrow.    Yep, I have the alarm set so you can slip back into the dorm before Reveille.   Mmm hmmm.  Good night, my golden David.   Sweet dreams, though the sweetest will be just a replay of today and tonight!

What a fantasy!   I opened my eyes to see my chest and belly coated with more cum than I'd ever produced.   Looked like I'd been the target in one of those porn videos where six or eight  boy-men jack off onto one guy lying there in the middle.   Mmmmm, I'll just scoop up some and taste it.   With David as my mental visual delight, I'd not only produced more, it's also tastier than ever.   Well, the best way to clean it up is to recycle the protein.   Build muscles from the inside, and tonight it might cause a replay if I keep thinking of David.   No,  I'll leave the light on and scoop it all off, gobble it while it's still warm, then get up and wash off the remains.   It's SO crusty in the mornings if you don't get it off after you get off!  Some mornings I've crackled when I first stretched.   Others I've been glued to the sheet.   I'm sure all guys have had those morning after problems.

All dried off, and now to sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream -- of my David, of course.   I'll get to see him for three more days!   Thank you Frey, you horny, long cocked god of the Norse.  My Scandinavian heritage seemed to help, today!  Mmm, lights off, snuggle down.  "Good night, Spike."


Hope you liked the way it's gone.   Comments or suggestions are appreciated:  NailsB69@hotmail.com
Copyright, June, 2000.  You may print a copy for your own use, but may NOT post or publish this story or any part of it without specific permission of the copyright holder.  ME.