Date: Mon, 25 Jul 2005 12:44:32 -0700 (PDT) From: tag michaels Subject: Bizarre Circumstances There is no truth to any of this story. I actually dreamed the part of seeing a boy with a hole in his pants and his adjusting then, caused the hole to expose his boy stuff. The dream was very vivid, very clear and the boy's genitals looked in the dream exactly as I have described them. All of the rest of is like most of my stories, dreamed up as I go. Enjoy it, knowing that there will be at least one more chapter but as always, I don't know when. Hugs Tag_M It really was an almost bizarre situation, one that I don't think I'd ever encountered before. Boys can be fairly brazen at times, especially when it comes to sex, and being a lover of teenage boys I'd experienced some of this type of behavior but this one; this one was pretty unusual. I'd gone to Wal-Mart and as usual I parked in the far back of the lot, sideway in two slots. I own a sixty-three split window Vette that is show quality so tend to take fairly good care of it. Well, really good care. As I approached the car, I saw a couple of teenagers loitering around it, looking in the windows that sort of thing. When one of them tried the door I picked up speed, quickly calling out from thirty feet away. "Can I help you with something?" I asked in a loud and non-threatening voice. The kid doing the touching, who, as I got closer appeared to be about eighteen, looked up at me and asked, "Why?" Boy was giving me attitude, which was okay. I'd worked a lot with kids so could handle the surly attitude. I was also a belted instructor in Kung Fu so could handle the physical part as well if the kid elected to take it to that level. I would do everything I could to avoid that. "Well, it's my car so if you have questions about it then I would be more than willing to answer them for you." I kept an open smile. He let go of the door and sort of puffed himself up as he turned toward me, now only twelve feet away from him. The other one, who had at first elected to lean against the wall on the other side of the car, came off the wall and walked around the front of the car. "I know you," he said, stopping eight or so feet from me. "You have me at a loss," I replied, "forgive me but I don't think I know you." The smile was still plastered to my face as I approached. This kid looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, tall and rangy, long scraggly medium brown hair, clothes that goodwill would have disowned. His face was still somewhat soft and very smooth, a sign of early adolescence. The one intriguing thing was that he had a hole in the left leg of his jeans that I could easily have put my fist through. It was more toward the inner part of his leg just at the bottom edge of the pocket. It was definitely large enough that had his pants been worn at his waist where they belonged, his boyhood charms might have been visible had he not been wearing underwear but in the style of the day, the hole was about halfway down to his knee. I watched as he hiked his jeans up and held them there for a good three seconds before letting go of them. In that short period of time I saw that he wasn't wearing underwear at all, that his balls, at least the one I saw, were smooth as a billiard ball and the patch of hair at the base of his cock was rather small, more like what a boy barely six months into puberty might have. "I don't know from where either," he said, "but I know you." The other kid stepped in close to me, still puffed up. He said something that I didn't quite hear and I looked at him then turned my head away in a dismissing gesture but continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye. He made the mistake of reaching out to push me in one of those "Hey I'm talking to you" sort of things. I turned and stepped into him, shot my hand out in a close arc over his arm and back in under his elbow, catching his wrist in my armpit, and brought my hand and forearm up. In essence it's a trap that hyper-extends the elbow. The expression on the kids' face was pretty classic; total shock not to mention pain and his going up on his tip toes to try and avoid more pain. "Hey, you're gonna break my fucking arm," he whined. "You were going to assault me. I can't have that." My voice was low, non-threatening. "I'm going to let you go and you are going to do what?" "I'm gonna fucking kick." was about as far as he got because I reefed up more on his arm causing him to screech like a baby Eagle, his other arm flailing in the wind and actually adding to that illusion. "Wrong answer," I said. "I'm gonna go away," he quickly amended. "That would be a very wise decision on your part." When I let him go he turned and headed in the opposite direction. "You commin TC?" he called over his shoulder. I turned to look at the remaining boy just as he hitched his jeans up again only this time they were wrenched hard to his right so that the hole was filled with all of that which made him boy. It was hard not to stare and fortunately he was looking past me at his departing friend. His balls were completely exposed to me, hanging gently in their totally smooth sac. His cock was resting on top of them, the underside of the circumcised head almost nestled in the soft loose folds between the eggs, having been pressed there by the weight of his jeans. Further, I could see that his pubic nest was, in fact fairly, small and appeared to be confined to the base of his boyhood and not yet encroaching into the creases of his pelvic bone and hips. "Naw, I wanna hang, then I got to get home, I'll see you later maybe." He continued to watch his friend go as if contemplating something, his charms still mostly visible but he started to relax his grip on his jeans and they began to fall, obliterating a perfectly wonderful view. He turned back to me. "He's an asshole. You teach that karate stuff at the Central Y dontcha?" I nodded my head, "Kung Fu," I responded, "Among other things. If he's an asshole why do you hang with him?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't have any other fiends," he answered. "What other things?" I gave him a slightly blank look so he clarified, "You said among other things. What other things?" I told him that I also mentored, as well as did some counseling, with boys. "I could probably use some of that, the counseling I mean," he said, a rather melancholy tone entering his voice, which was in the process of deepening. He gave me the opening so I went for it. "Yeah, well, most of us can use some counseling. Come on, let's sit down," indicating a solitary wooden bench in the corner under a leafy tree. He followed me the fifteen feet to the aforementioned bench and we sat, each in one corner at an oblique angle to the middle, I with my legs out in front of me in an open posture, not particularly comfortable as the two hard edges of the bench pressed into my back, while the boy elected to crook the inside leg, the one with the hole in it. "So tell me, why do you feel like you could use some counseling?" The short version was; no father, weak mother with an abusive controlling boyfriend, recent transplant to the city because it's where the man found work. He didn't look at me as he talked, his vision directed off somewhere else, not quite but almost in the opposite direction. Because of how we were situated the hole in his jeans was such that I could see a testicle and the side of his penis, which still rested where it had been the first time I saw it. From what I could tell, he looked well enough endowed but there really was no way of telling. ". won't buy me new clothes and won't give me any money to buy em, even from goodwill which is where the clothes I got on came from. He won't even buy me underwear, which I'm sure you noticed." He turned toward me as he said those last words, glanced down at the hole in his jeans then back at me. "Well, yeah, sometimes it's pretty hard to miss. should I call you TC, we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Jessie, or Jess." He extended his had to meet mine, nodding his head, "Yeah, TC, short for Terrance Christian. Which oughtta tell you why I go by TC." "I've seen my fair share of naked boys TC so yes, sometimes your stuff is hanging out but I'm not offended by that in any way so don't worry about it. I'll try not look." He smiled at that and went on. "I don't even really care any more, ya know." He paused as if in thought and I figured that he was on the verge of going a little deeper. I was correct. "He caught me and another boy in my room about a year ago. It was early in the morning so we were still asleep but the covers were off. We had gone to bed naked, I'm sure you can figure out the reason for that," he said with a wry smile. "He threw a fit, called me names and threatened to beat my ass. I spent a lot of time at that other boys' home so of course he figured that it was all about sex. He saw me with an older guy one night while we were sitting and talking outside of a Starbuck's so assumed that I was picking up tricks or something. I've never done that, although I've been tempted, but he refused to believe me, the same with drugs which I don't do either. He actually took the three pair of boxers than I owned and cut them up then threw them in the trash. Said that it would be easier for the men who wanted to get at my cock. He's the one that actually put this hole in my jeans, he added, "for the same reason." "Does he hit you," I asked quietly and the boy that he had a couple of times but nothing recent. He shook his head no to the question of sexual abuse. What the man did do however was move the small family into a one bedroom apartment so TC had to sleep on a ratty sofa in the living room. The man worked a day shift so the boy had to leave the house when the man went to work, the front door being locked until the boy's mother got home from her menial job at four in the afternoon. TC was only allowed to shower once per week, the rationale being that he could shower at the houses of men that he picked up. The same rationale was used for food, although the boy was welcome to eat in the morning before he was kicked out of the house, as long as what he ate was cold because he wasn't allowed to cook. He could forage in the evening as well or eat leftovers after the man and his mother had finished eating. I nodded my head as he spoke and by the time he was finished had made a decision. "What do you need most, right now TC?" I asked him. He didn't hesitate "Food, a shower, wash my clothes." I hadn't really noticed before but the boy did have a bit of an odor to him, lurking just underneath a sweet smelling cologne of some kind. I pretended to give that some thought even though my decision had already been made. "Tell you what," I said. "It's almost four and I'm getting hungry too. How about this; we go to my house, you can shower while your clothes are washing and we'll scare up something to eat. We'll kill off a bunch of birds with one stone. Then we can see about figuring out a way to improve your situation. How does that sound?" He nodded his head, saying it sounded great. The kid was so trusting, so needing of someone that cared enough to help him that I wanted to just hold him and rock him. And it was a totally altruistic thought. Despite being attracted to adolescent boys, I wasn't a predator. Every single boy that found his way into my bed, and there weren't that many, had done so with eyes open, making the advances or request all on his own. In fact I usually ignored or played down a boy's initial advances, wanting him to be quite sure that having a sexual experience or relationship with me was really and truly what he wanted. Sometimes I would set the scene, as it were, providing situations or opportunities for a boy to make his desires known and certainly going to my place and taking a shower was one way of doing that however that was not the case at this time. TC had made three requests and the most practical way to get his needs met was at my place. I suppose I could have rented a motel room and ordered room service. Riiiiight! In any case, time would tell with this boy, just like the others. If he wanted more from me, he'd let me know and although I actually turned down eighty percent of the opportunities that presented themselves to me, I felt for this boy. I wanted to hold him and hug him, both of us naked so that nothing was between us. "Then let's git to gittin," I said with a smile. I hit the button for the aftermarket alarm system that unlocked the car. As he got in he commented that he was a little afraid of getting the seat dirty since his jeans hadn't been washed in a week. I told him not to worry, leather cleaned easily. As we drove he commented on the Vette, how cool it was, and asking the typical questions about the car, all of which I handled in my typical way, with straightforward answers. We talked about other things more personal; was I married, what did I do for a living, what grade was he in school, etc. When I asked how he did in school he seemed to get a little shy then said that he was honor roll, had skipped two grades and was actually going to be a sophomore in high school as opposed to an eighth grader. He then told me he was fourteen and when I commented on how tall he seemed to be, he said that he's shot up in the past six months, that his father had been well over six feet. His mother had told him that he was almost three before he was toilet trained and learned to walk. "I guess I'm what you'd call a late bloomer," he chuckled, "I didn't even start getting pubes till five months ago. Boy was that embarrassing in gym class." I commiserated with him, telling him that I'd known a few boys like that; boys who hadn't started their development until later and of course were quite concerned about it, as any boy would be. He asked what I'd meant when I said that I'd seen boys naked but his attention went in a totally opposite direction when we approached the front of my property. We had been in country for a good five miles, the Wal-mart where we'd met being in a new development that was built at the edge of the city in what had been country less than twenty months before. We were in an area that had a number of large estates at the turn of the century and were now being turned into subdivisions and shopping centers. Not so my place. TC was impressed with the entryway; stone pillars bracing an electronic sliding security gate, further impressed with the long, cobblestone driveway that wound through a forest of tall pines and cedar trees. Every so often the trees thinned enough to catch a little glimpse of a small lake. The boy was even more impressed when the driveway crested a small hill and all of a sudden my house appeared; a three-story eighteenth century ivy covered stone manor, complete with some big white columns, lots of chimney's, and a ton of multi paned windows that practically loomed above us. I parked the car in the circular driveway instead in back where the four-car garage was since I'd have to take TC home at some point in time. "Fuuuuuck, dude," he said in awe, "you gotta be rich." One of the things I like about teens, boys especially, is their ability to get right to the heart of a matter. I didn't bother to comment or relate the rather bizarre set of circumstances that placed the stately old home in my possession. However, the facts were these. On my twenty first birthday, while a senior at Harvard, I'd gotten a letter from an attorney's office with what seemed like four dozen names on the letterhead, asking me to contact their office for an appointment. The short story is that my biological maternal grandmother had set up a trust for my mother when she was born. It was to pass to my mother on her twenty-first birthday however she died of a drug overdose at seventeen, a year after giving me up for adoption. My grandmother then put it all in my name. Originally it comprised of cash, blue chip stocks and savings bonds but early on in my life she added five thousand shares of Microsoft stock when the computer giant had gone public. She enhanced the trust with other stocks at Christmas and my birthdays, all the while never letting me know that she even existed. When her other child, a son, died from complications after a simple surgery, she combined his trust into mine. At twenty-one I had become a multi-millionaire. I immediately asked to meet my grandmother, the attorney's informing me that she had been willing to meet me if that was what I wanted, and of course, I did. Most adopted children want to at least know their roots, their family history and since my upbringing hadn't been all that red hot, I had been rather eager and hopeful during my teenage years that perhaps my real family was more interesting than my boring, and seemingly uninterested middle class adoptive family had been. I wasn't ungrateful for my adoptive family, just unimpressed and every indication had been that they felt the same way. I guess a part of that was having a gay son, which hadn't been in their original dream of the all American family. Once we both discovered that fact at the tender age of thirteen, their already flagging interest in me waned considerably. So. I met my grandmother where she was languishing at home on the two hundred fifty acre estate that I now owned. A rather lemony woman led me to where my grandmother sat in a wheelchair in the large solarium at back of the house, overlooking gardens and an orchard, all of which had gone to seed. In her late seventies, she still had an air of wealth and bearing, her white hair kept styled and her clothes well tailored, her boney fingers barely able to contain the large diamond rings that she refused to take off even when she slept. Turned out she didn't trust her personal assistant at all, and with good cause. The woman was a cunt. Anyway, to make a short story even longer, after two or three pleasant visits my grandmother offered to have me move into the house. She said I was going to inherit the thing anyway so I may as well begin to enjoy it and try to get it fixed up before the thing fell into the ground. I took her up on her offer, fired the cunt, hired a full time nurse, gardener, kept the housekeeper slash cook then began restoration on the house and grounds. A year later my grandmother passed away but not without giving me the full history of my family. I consider that year with her to be the best year of my life. "Yeah, I guess I'm wealthy but I try not to put it out there too much, ya know?" I told him as we headed up the five wide steps to the front door. Once inside all TC could do was gasp as we crossed the open, marble tiled entry and under a brace of curved staircases that led to the second floor. We moved through the wide arched entry to the formal dining room, a cavernous room that had seating for eighteen but could handle twice that, and into the professional sized kitchen where I found Mrs. English, my daytime housekeeper and cook, putting the finishing touches on a fresh banana cream pie. Mrs. English had been with my grandmother for twenty some years and me for another six years, during which she'd seen more than one boy in my company, so she barely reacted at all at the sight of the gangly and scruffy teenager at my heels. "Are there towels in the bathroom Mrs. English?" I asked. She knew that I was referring to the three quarter bathroom that occupied a corner utility room off of the butler's pantry at the side of the house. She nodded her head so I kept going out through the butler's pantry to the large open room that housed the washer, an industrial dryer and utility sink. "You can use this bathroom TC and if you toss your clothes out after you've undressed I'll get them in the washer right away." Once the clothes were in the washer I went back into the kitchen. "I can patch those jeans if the boy is going to be spending the night sir," Mrs. English said as I re entered the kitchen. I thanked her and said that I had no idea whether that would be the case or not. She then told me that there was a rib roast in the oven that would be done in twenty minutes but that she had to leave, having an appointment in the city in less than an hour. I nodded my head and thanked her again and she reminded me to let it stand for fifteen minutes before carving it then snapped her purse and left. I went about setting the table in smaller eating area that sat in a bay window sort of area at the back of the kitchen while I did a mental assessment of clothing options for TC. I was a more husky six feet to his shorter more slender body and a rough guess would put the differences between our waist sizes at least four and up to six inches. I simply didn't know what I was going to clothe him in. I was pondering that question as I heard the muffled sound of Mrs. English's Porsche, the throaty roar of the sports car bouncing off the walls, as it went through the breezeway that connected the garage and servants quarters to the main house. "Jess. Dude where are you?" TC called out ten minutes later. I headed toward the utility room and came face to face with him in the butler's pantry. He looked even thinner without clothes, the bath towel hanging at his narrow hips seeming to be barely held in place. His ribs seemed to stick out from his pale body and a series of what looked like bruises dotted his left pectoral muscle just above a small pink nipple. His hair, still almost soaked, hung to his narrow shoulders. He looked like a fucking waif and I wanted to do two things; hold him, and beat the shit out of his mother's boyfriend for the way he treated the kid. "Do you have anything I can wear?" he asked. I told him my dilemma; that I didn't think I had anything that would work for him although we could certainly go up stairs to my room and see what I had. I told him I had to check the roast, saw that it only had a few minutes so pulled it out and set it on the counter top to finish cooking. "Let's go," I said and headed back out the way we'd come then headed up the stairs to the second floor where I headed left down the hall in the opposite direction of the kitchen. At the end of the wide, hardwood floored hallway was my suite of rooms and when I say that I could live in there, I meant it. It didn't have a stove and oven but fuck well knows there was room for one. We entered through tall, arched, mahogany inlaid double doors, into the living room portion, which was about the size of a one bedroom apartment, easily able to seat eight to ten people. A large two-way fireplace dominated the wall between the sitting room and my bedroom proper and it was through the arched doorway beside the fireplace that I went, TC padding along behind me. I made a hard right and headed to the set of built in drawers, went to the underwear drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers. "I really don't think this is gonna work but we gotta try something," I said as I handed them to him. He took them and tugged them on up under the towel and once they were where they were supposed to be he peeled the towel off and dropped it on the floor. "Hhmmm," I said, "That's what I thought." They were so loose on the boy that they dropped down, exposing his small patch of pitch-black pubic fuzz and the only thing that kept them from falling off was the base of his cock. If he tried to move even a step I was sure the boxers would head straight for the floor. I did, however, take the time to admire his totally flat belly and pubic area, the lines of separation between his pelvis and hips very well defined, major arteries also visible on the taut pale skin. I was totally unprepared for his next move, which was too tug the underwear off and hand them to me, not bothering to cover himself, and giving me a full on view of that which made him boy. His cock was one of those that didn't just hang there but sort jutted out from his body a little bit before gravity took over and tugged the tube toward mother earth. He looked to be an easy six inches and somewhat thick, his circumcised head hanging a little lower that it had when I've viewed it before. His balls were as I'd seen them, a nice pair of eggs hanging, one slightly lower than the other, in a totally smooth and hair free sac. I must have raised and eyebrow or something because he said, "Well, you said you'd seen plenty of naked boys so what's one more, right?" He didn't seem the least bit intimated by the fact that I was fully clothed and he wasn't. "True that," I said, adding, "It doesn't appear that you're a late bloomer in the size department." He chuckled and said that his dick had reached the size it was almost a year before the fuzz appeared. "Some of the guys in PE thought I shaved," he said with a smile. "I suppose I could not wear anything until my clothes are finished," he said, "that is if that lady isn't still here." That was an interesting concept and the fact that he brought it up was even more interesting and what's more, I was beginning to think that perhaps the boy might be spending the night. "Well, that is an interesting proposition however, I'd be a little uncomfortable being clothed and you being naked." I shouldn't have said that because I knew damn well what was next. "So, take your clothes off too," he suggested. "There is that," I retorted, "but I see a couple of problems with that, one of which is what would be the point of getting dressed after your clothes are dry." He nodded his head and said, "Okay, so. And the other thing?" "And the other," I said quietly, "is that we might not make it downstairs for dinner." He smiled and stepped up to me. "Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" he asked just as quietly. "Only in that I'm starving," I replied. I went for another drawer and pulled out a pair of sweat shorts, the kind with a drawstring, and handed them to him and as he pulled them on I could see that his boyhood had begun to inflate a little. "Yeah, well, mine too" I thought as I opened another drawer and pulled out a t-shirt for him to try on. Once he finished dressing I stood back a little. "Well, that ought to get us through dinner at least," I said with a smile. "But will it get us through dessert?" he quipped rather quickly. I was beginning to like this kid. He was cute enough that's for sure, with his brown, almost blonde hair, large grey eyes and smooth hair and blemish free face. That he was obviously smart as well was a nice combination for me. "We'll see won't we, let's go eat, I'm starved. Back downstairs I tossed his clothes in the dryer then sliced the roast while TC pulled the roast potatoes from the oven and a tossed green salad and potato fixings from the fridge. Five minutes later we were seated and eating. TC had questions about the house so I gave him the short version. The tract had belonged in the family since the late sixteen hundreds and had initially totaled around four thousand acres. The family had made their initial money in transportation and shipping, adding railroads to their empire as the country grew. They raised cattle on the huge tract of land, cut timber for building and mined building stone from a huge quarry on the property. Using their shipping company enabled the family to get their products into the hands of those who needed them faster than anyone else thus cornering the huge markets. As they became wealthier they moved up the social ladder and thus gained class. As a result Peregrine Hall, named because the estate was home to hundreds of the falcons, was started in eighteen twenty-five and the main portion of the house finished two years later. An addition to the manor house was done in eighteen seventy and another, along with plumbing upgrades and restoration in nineteen ten. The end result was a thirty-room mansion with an attached ten-room carriage house. Since the eighteen eighties the family had been selling off some of the land, the quarry and a chunk of shipping companies stock. The idea was to become gentlemen farmers and so they began raising thoroughbred horses and living on their money which probably caused the family founder to roll over in his tomb. In any case they built a respectable business dealing in high-grade horseflesh until the depression hit and very few people needed a thoroughbred horse. Like a great many wealthy families, ours took a big hit in nineteen twenty-nine. At least two of my grandmother's close relatives couldn't bear the thought of actually having to work for a living and so ended their lives, destitute. Her father was hit hard, although not wiped out, but it took an emotional toll on the elderly man and so my grandmother, barely out of diapers, began growing up without knowing that the life she was living wasn't nearly as comfortable as her immediate ancestors. Fortunately, and unbeknownst to her father, her mother worked behind the scenes to ensure that their daughter would continue to have at least a small semblance of the life that she herself had while growing up. My great-grandmother's family was also one of wealth and upon marriage her father had bequeathed her a three quarters of a million dollars in cash, gold and oil stocks, none of which her new husband was aware of. Seems her father didn't quite trust, what he termed, the idle rich. So with her father as her mentor, my great grandmother's private wealth grew, playing on her father's strong feelings that the Hun fully intended to engage the world in yet another war, and thus much of her business dealings was in the automobile and aircraft industries. World War two struck her family yet another heavy blow, killing her two older brothers mere weeks apart in the European theater toward the end of the war. Her already melancholy father was unable to stand the strain and died before the peace accord was signed. "So that's pretty much the early stuff. How about you TC, what's your story?" His story was much shorter than mine and a great deal poorer. His mother and father eloped, both sets of parents against the marriage. His father had left when TC was seven so memories of the man were vague. She'd had no contact with her parents since she'd gotten married so getting help from them was out. She'd had a few boyfriends, all of them losers, until she'd hooked up with the current asshole some three years before. His mother had never been a very strong woman and Ed, the man she was with, exploited that weakness as only a perpetrator can and of course his power and control issues were acted out on TC as well. He'd never warmed up to the boy but once the episode of being in bed with another boy happened his behavior toward became even worse, more hostile. "We moved here about a month ago and I ended up hooking up with the guy you saw me with, Les. We live in a small house over on the other side of Wal-Mart, you know where that group of little old houses are?" I did indeed. Built to house estate workers, they had belonged to the family until that portion of the property was sold off in the early fifties. I simply nodded my head at the question. We'd finished eating and were sort of just sitting and chatting when I heard a faint buzz sound. "That would be your clothes I'm thinkin," I said. We cleared the table, put everything back where it was supposed to go then headed into the utility room and pulled TC's clothes from the dryer. Even clean they still looked pretty shabby and when I turned back around to show them to TC, he was standing there, naked, the shirt and shorts discarded. "What are you doing?" I asked, a smile on my face. He said he was gonna get dressed in his own clothes and since I'd already seen him naked he didn't see any reason to wander off and get dressed anywhere else. I nodded my head. "Well I was thinking that these are pretty shitty looking. I was thinking about maybe we should head to the mall and pick you up some new clothes." He was absently tugging on his cock as he told me that he couldn't afford to buy any clothes and if I bought them he'd still have to take them home and Ed would make a big deal out of it and TC would most likely get in trouble for stealing them or trading sex for them or something. He stopped pulling at him self for a moment to scratch under his balls and it was clear that he was getting hard from the manipulations. Well maybe we could reach an arrangement in trade for the clothes," I said, thinking that I could easily use his help around the grounds. That wasn't what TC was thinking. "Oh yeah," he said, stepping up close to me, his cock now about half-way to a full on chubby. "Like what?" I shrugged my shoulders, "Stuff around the place, I said. He reached out and touched my chest very gently. "Uhmm, okay, what kind of stuff?" My hands were at my side and as he stepped in even closer, his hard cock poked almost into the circle created by my relaxed thumb and index finger. At the same time, I put my left hand on his bony hip I allowed my finger and thumb to encircle the tip of his shaft just behind the head. "You don't have to trade sex for the clothes TC, there is legitimate work to be done around here." The look on his face remained serious as he began to unbutton my shirt, his free hand having gone to the front of my pants where he was gently rubbing. "Okay, that's fine, but right now I'm more interested in something more illegitimate." His finger ceased rubbing, found the zipper of my Dockers and pulled it down then slipped inside for a look see. Okay, a look feel. Whatever, the effect was the same and that was that my own seven plus inches of boy stuff was rapidly on the rise. "I see that you feel the same Jess," he said in a quiet voice then leaned forward and kissed me. What was I suppose to do, step away? Was I suppose to ignore the fact that a cute naked young teenage boy was all but in my arms, almost begging me to have sex with him while he was undressing me. I did what any red blooded boy loving male would do. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, opening him up while my hand encircled his fully engorged penis and slowly stroked him. "Oh my, you're a big boy," he said as he broke the kiss and his hand felt up my hard cock under the fabric of my underwear. He slipped his hand out of my pants, went to the snap and popped it open then slipped his hand down underneath the fabric and held me, gently squeezing and exploring my cock. His face remained close to mine and I could feel the warmth of his breath against me. He moved then, gently pulling away from me and dropping to his knees on the tiled floor and using both hands, pulled my underwear and pants down so that my cock and balls were free and opened up to him. He cupped my smooth sperm makers while his other hand pulled the shaft down as he leaned forward. In the blink of an eye his mouth closed over the head sending shivers of warmth and feeling through out my body. I leaned back against the solidness of the clothes dryer and moaned softly as he sucked on me, one hand gently stroked in tandem with the movements of his head, the other continued to fondle and tug on my balls. I'd been with a few men and boys in the twenty seven years of my life but I still wasn't all that experienced and even at that I had cut back drastically when I received my inheritance and moved into Peregrine Hall. I was acutely aware that I presented a very big and very desirable target for less scrupulous males. Hell, look at Michael and the shit he's gone through. So TC's sucking on my cock was the first real live sex I'd had in almost a year. Yes, I know but that's the way it was. Besides, I had a business to run, an estate to manage and we were still in the major restoration stage albeit at the end. So what I'm saying is, I reached my peak fairly fast, the familiar tingling in my balls and my belly signaling my impending explosion. "Fuck TC I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum." The boy didn't seem to be the least bit worried about that phase of our experience but seemed to stroke me harder and faster while concentrating on my swollen cock head. "Ooohhhhh fuuuuuuck," I groaned out as I came, jet after jet of warm sperm blasting into the boy's mouth. The action of his mouth stopped while his hand continued to stroke, encouraging my body to keep producing the life producing fluids from my balls. I looked down at him through half closed eyes, saw that his eyes were closed as well, could hear him moaning. I noticed that his left arm was moving rapidly and realized that the boy was jacking off and it sounded as though he was cumming at the same time I was. I felt a momentary sense of sadness as I had fully intended to suck him off as soon as I was finished with my orgasm but then I realized that we had plenty of time and if he came now, he'd most likely be able to last longer a little later. He finally stopped what he was doing, took his mouth off my cock and stood up. I looked down and saw cum dripping off of his cock head then looked up at him and smiled. "A double header." He smiled back at me. "Yeah. I was sort of planning on getting you off and then maybe having you get me off but, well, it's been a while since I had sex and well, you know, I was horny so I jacked off. I hope that's okay." "TC it's more than fine. I was hoping for the same thing. It's been a long time for me too but, unless you have someplace to be in the next hour or so, I'm guessing that we can take our time with the next bout." "I have plenty of time Jess. I'm never really expected at home at night even though it's usually where I crash so no, I don't have place to be in the next twelve hours let alone one. We can take our time with bout two, three, four and more. That is if you're up for it and judging from this guy," he gripped onto my still hard cock, "I'm guessing at least two more. Whatta ya say to that?" "I guess I can mange one or two more, how about you?" He nodded his head as I did to TC what he was doing to me, squeezing on his rock hard teenage cock, reveling in the feel of it. It definitely had been entirely too long.