Date: Fri, 4 Sep 2015 21:42:23 +0100 From: tpickles Subject: Boy - Chapter 2 - REVISED This is an erotic gay novel focusing around an adult-youth relationship and written for my own entertainment. *** WARNING for those gay men looking for 'pure' gay sex. PLOT-SPOILER *** This introductory chapter includes a failed seduction of Boy by a woman, followed by Boy's 'saving' by Tom. It's the only reference to straight/bi activity in the book. Like many boys (including this author) such early experiments with females often help clarify our true sexual identities and shape our preferences. That's certainly true for Boy. This event sets Boy up for all that follows with other males throughout the rest of this novel. If you don't like any mention of a women in your reading, please skip to the next chapter. Otherwise, please regard it as an important rite-of-passage for Boy that does a lot to excite Tom as well, and bring on their relationship. *** End of WARNING and PLOT-SPOILER *** ......................... continued from CHAPTER 1 ............................ After he left, Jo turned to me and said, "I can guess what you're thinking"."What?" I replied, looking as blank as possible. "It's written all over your face". "Well, he seems a nice young man. But he doesn't really have any experience". "I'm sure he has some experience," she replied with a grin. "And how does he rate compared to the other two-and-a-half?" she joked, counting in the mother-and-daughter team. "Well ... he might be an unknown quantity ... but I could always tell him to go if he's no good." "Right, so you want to ask him back then", she agreed. And that's how Boy came to move into my apartment a few days later, bringing with him a small case of clothes and a very old motorcycle, and took up residence in my small third bedroom at the end of the corridor. And that's when my imagination started to become more hyperactive. CHAPTER 2 "How's it going with Boy?" asked my local friend Zee one day over coffee a week later and referring to my new experiment with a live-in, teenage `male-maid' helping out around my apartment. "Oh, pretty good really. He's certainly lived up to his promise of being neat and tidy, willing to learn, and pretty unobtrusive around the apartment. Sometimes I hardly know he's there." "And does he please you then?" she laughed. "Yes, I'd say at this stage, it's working out pretty well." "That's not what I meant, and you know it" she replied. "There's nothing improper going on between us, if that's what you mean" I shot back. "He's just a young lad after all." I ignored the fact that whilst nothing had actually happened between us physically – and I had maintained a proper distance from him – my night-time thoughts and fantasies had quite often included him and his slim young body. "Really? But do you want there to be?" Perhaps the little gap before I replied gave away a more truthful answer. "No, I don't need anything more. He's just very nice to have around." "And nice to look at, too". "What do you mean?" I feigned surprise. "Oh come on, you know he's a good looking boy. He's going to be quite a stunner when he's a little older" said Zee. "Well, maybe" I prevaricated. "You know he is! I guess that's why you and Jo chose him after the interviews." "No -" I cut in, but Zee was just smiling and laughing. "And what does he make of your tastes then?" she asked. "I don't know. He's met some of my friends, both male and female, when they've visited – like you, for instance – but no-one else has stayed over he since he started work last week." "And do you think he's gay too?" "I really don't know. I'm not going to ask him. It's none of my business. He's just going to have to take me as he finds me when that issue arises." But, how I secretly wanted to know the answer! "But you must have wondered? There he is cleaning your bedroom, seeing you go in and out of the bathroom, washing your clothes. He must be wondering about you. After all, he's old enough – just! – to know his own feelings and desires." The last part was said with a laugh. "Well, I don't know. That's up to him. I won't judge him and I don't expect him to judge me." That came out a little too defensively, and I caught myself wondering what made me so up-tight in my comment. "Mind you, I did wonder if he was playing with himself the other night when I walked past his bedroom door. There was a certain quiet rhythmical sound." I'd stood outside his door for five minutes at least, picturing him on his bed, and fondling myself. My imagination had worked overtime when I'd gone to bed later. "I'm surprised you didn't walk in on him" Zee said. "I wouldn't –" I replied quickly, and then realised that she was laughing at me. "So do you think he's still a virgin then Tom?", she asked – and it was the question I'd been secretly asking myself. Life continued very happily for us both in the apartment for another week. Boy got to meet some of my friends. He was good at keeping the place clean, had learned how to use the washing machine, knew where the local shops were, and could make several local dishes. I'd tried to show him one or two western dishes, and he'd had a go at cooking them, with somewhat mixed results. Still he seemed very willing to learn. He didn't bring his friends round to the apartment, though sometimes he asked if he could go out to meet a mate. He would spend time on his phone, but if I walked into the room and he was talking, he tended to go quiet and end the call. The weather was hot. I'd always been in the habit of wearing fairly minimal clothing when I was indoors and on my own. I was comfortable being naked, and liked the feeling of freedom. My apartment was not overlooked from anywhere so I had absolute privacy. It was more of an adjustment than I had anticipated having someone else in the apartment, even though Boy tended to keep to his own room when he wasn't working. I had to learn to keep my bedroom door closed. And I chose to wear some shorts or leggings to maintain my modesty. I quickly decided that wearing a tee-shirt indoors was too much at this time of year. Boy arrived in jeans and with several of the shirts he had worn to school. Initially he felt he needed to dress properly each day to do his work. I kept telling him this wasn't necessary, and eventually he started appearing in any one of three or four different pairs of shorts, of varying length, colour, age and style. Although his shorts had little style to them, I must admit that he did look good in them. I often found myself looking at him from behind, admiring his cute buns. When he was wearing his smaller shorts, I think he sometimes caught me taking a look towards his crotch. Like all south-east Asian boys and men, he was meticulous in his personal care, washing his clothes every day, changing his tee-shirt if it became dirty, checking his face regularly in the mirror, fixing his hair, and showering frequently. I sometimes stopped outside the closed bathroom door as he showered himself. Boy was putting the dishes away when Zee arrived, as pre-arranged for her supposed `seduction'. I'd been hesitant about this, and – to be truthful – I didn't think that she'd really go through with it. It seemed so blatant. After all, Zee was several years older than Boy. And secretly, I was a little fearful that she might frighten Boy and cause him to leave. That was something I really didn't want to happen. At the same time, I was kind of interested in the outcome of her `experiment'. I felt a certain thrill at the idea she was proposing. She might be standing in for me – doing what I really wanted to be doing with Boy. I knew that I could always step in and `rescue' Boy if things started to go wrong and he was clearly unhappy at the turn of events. Part of me wanted to be a part of whatever materialised with him. By now my teenage `maid' had been working in the apartment for 2-3 weeks. We were getting along fine. He seemed comfortable with my habit of more minimal casual clothing around the apartment. Sometimes he copied my lead. Today, he was bare-chested because of the midday heat, and was wearing his black football shorts; there looked to be some thin briefs underneath of the sort that all the local boys wore. The shorts looked great against the smooth brown skin of his thighs. The only hair he seemed to have on his body were little patches growing in his armpits, and a light dusting of hair on his calves. He didn't seem to need to shave much. The rest of his body was smooth. I watched, nervously, wondering how on earth Zee was going to tempt this innocent boy. "Let's see if he's really a virgin", she'd said. "If he is, I'm going to give him an experience neither of us will forget." I frowned. "You're not jealous are you?" she'd asked. "You want to take his cherry yourself, huh?" she laughed. I said nothing, although I guess the flush of colour probably gave me away. Nevertheless, we had agreed to this arrangement – though I never thought she'd go through with it. And certainly not that Boy would allow it. "How are you finding it here, Boy?" she asked innocently after we'd shared a coffee together. "I hope Tom's treating you with proper respect, and not taking any advantage of you", she added. Oh, she could do innuendo easily enough, although I don't think Boy understood the implication. "Oh yes he is ... I mean no, he's not", Boy answered with some confusion to the double question. "Well, come and tell me all about it for a few minutes, Boy" she continued. "You can show me your little bedroom and how you've made it into your new home here." Zee walked off towards the third bedroom and Boy looked first at me, and then followed her. He seemed a little confused as to what to do. I nodded, in case he needed my permission to go with Zee. My eyes followed his behind. He left the door half- open, as if to protect himself. I could hear low murmurings coming from the bedroom, but decided to ignore them for a few minutes whilst they talked together. After a while, I picked up the paper, thinking that nothing could come of this. I got engrossed in a couple of articles, and when I looked up again, the voices were much quieter, and no-one had come back out from Boy's bedroom. I stood up, nervous, anxious, intrigued, I walked quietly in my bare feet and my stretch leggings back towards Boy's room. They were sitting side-by-side on Boy's bed turning a little towards each other. Zee was clearly comfortable and chatting away very quietly. Boy has his back to the door. I could see her left hand on his right knee, gently touching him. As I watched, she began, very gently, to stroke his thigh above the knee. He didn't move. She moved her head towards him as they sat. With her other hand, she reached up and just touched his head. Again, he didn't move. I didn't know what on earth he could be thinking – except perhaps blind panic. Then he moved his head a little, perhaps in response to the touch, and I caught a brief reflection from the mirror of a little smile. I quickly moved back so he couldn't see me in the same reflection. He certainly wasn't running out of the room – but was that from native politeness, or because he was feeling comfortable and enjoying the attention from Zee? Zee was whispering to him, reassuring him. She must be complimenting him and saying what a nice boy he is. Boy sat perfectly still. I could almost feel the colouring rising in his face – although it's impossible to detect in that brown skin. Now she was definitely stroking his thigh; it was unmistakeable. He moved a little on the bed, as if to test the feeling and know whether the contact was accidental or not. Zee persisted, making it more obvious. He turned a little more towards her, his eyes down in some embarrassment, and not looking at her face. Was he smiling? As I watched, she slowly moved her left hand from his thigh and gently took hold of his right arm before placing his hand over her breast. I swallowed. I wanted to be touching him. "Isn't that nice?" she asked. His fingers were moving, touching her through her tee-shirt, feeling her. As Boy did so, I noticed that Zee's hand had returned to his exposed thigh. Now she was clearly and deliberately stroking his skin along the length of his thigh. And, as I watched, more of her arm seemed to move in towards him. Even though he had his back to me, I realised that her hand must now be over his black football shorts. She was moving in towards his genitals through the fabric. I almost let out an audible moan. My cock was lengthening sideways in my leggings, and leaving a little tell-tale wet spot. Boy didn't stop her hand. I wondered what state he was in, inside those shorts. His hand froze for a moment. She leaned in towards him again and said, quietly but clearly "Yes, Boy, yes. It's OK. It's fine. This is all part of growing up into being a man." She looked up briefly and her eyes gave me a quick smile. She must have realised I was watching in the shadow beyond the door. Her hand was clearly playing with his cock. She changed hands. Her right hand now slid up the skin of his left thigh, and I imagined it continuing up inside the shorts to his briefs and all that they contained. Meanwhile her left hand was now free to come around his back, stroking from the back of his head and down Boy's naked back, caressing each vertebrae as it went. I watched the hand move with each downward stroke. I was fully hard now myself, watching this scene on Boy's bed, playing out before me. After four or five long caresses of his back, the hand came to rest at the elastic holding up his shorts. He was still sitting sideways on the bed, now facing her. The tips of her fingers slipped inside the elastic. My cock jumped; it was pointed straight up, almost poking out of my leggings. I was hot just watching this show. The hand played with his lower back and just stroked the top of his boy ass. As I watched, mesmerised, the hand gently pushed down the elastic of the shorts, revealing the top edge of his white briefs inside, and the beginning of his boy crack. "Just a moment," she said, as she sat upright, took her hands away from him and in one move lifted her tee-shirt up and over her head. "There, that's much easier now, isn't it?" she whispered, as she took hold of his shoulders and pulled Boy in to her. His bare chest made skin contact for the first time. If I hadn't known better, this could be a parent comforting a child. Except Boy was older than a child, and quickly becoming less innocent. Zee moved her hands from his shoulders, down his back, and left them over his ass cheeks, raised slightly from the bed as he leaned forward. Boy moaned. I experienced several panicky thoughts: did he really want this?; how much experience did he have?; was he straight, bisexual or gay? He was being held and stroked all down his back. After a minute or two, she asked "Are you OK, Boy?" I don't know which language he replied in. The stroking continued as I became ever more thrilled – wanting to put myself into the scene with Boy. "Let me move a moment", she said. Boy looked up, uncertain, perhaps thinking that this was all too much. He sat upright on his bed, his back still towards me as I watched from outside the bedroom door, and his hands in his lap – probably trying to cover over the tenting of his erection in his stretched shorts. Zee moved her position, loosening her jeans slightly, and then moved back from him to lie down in his bed, her head resting on the pillow. Boy was looking at her directly. She smiled at Boy, still sitting on his bed. She patted the bed on either side of her hips. "Come and sit here, across me, Boy. You'll find it more comfortable." She gave him a deep, wide smile. Slightly uncertain, he stood up, kneeled on the single bed, and moved to straddle her. As he stretched to place one knee either side, his right hand moved to his own genitals and appeared to make an adjustment. Clearly it was getting constricted inside those shorts. With his knees astride, he gently lowered himself onto her hips and abdomen. "I'm really enjoying our little game, Boy" she said, still smiling up at him. "You're good; you're a natural; and you're a beautiful boy. There's nothing to be afraid of. Just relax and you'll be fine." She touched and caressed Boy's face as she spoke. Her hands moved down onto his chest. I could imagine her rubbing his nipples and stroking his smooth chest and belly. I guessed his nipples would be hard and sensitive now. Suddenly his head went back and he led out a loud "Aaarghh" of pleasure. Her hand moved lower. I wondered if she was fondling him again. Surely he might shoot if she did this for too long. Then I realised her hand was pushing at the elastic of his football shorts. She used both hands to push the shorts down, over his hips. His white briefs were revealed in all their glory, neatly holding his rounded ass cheeks. I had to smother my own groans of pleasure at the sight; I didn't want to disturb this scene playing out before me. I was very hard now, with my hands inside my leggings giving myself intense pleasure. Zee's hands moved away from the bunched-up shorts and returned to Boy's chest and nipples. He moaned deeply again. One hand now quite definitely seemed to be touching and caressing his cock through the fabric of his pants. Oh, how I wanted that to be my hand. "Those lovely shorts are getting in the way, Boy. What about slipping them off? " Somewhat awkwardly, and without a word, Boy lifted one knee and managed to push the shorts off that leg, and then freed the other leg more easily. With one knee on either side, he was now sitting astride her in nothing but his stretched briefs. Her hands roved over his skin – his face, his chest, his arms, his nipples, his stomach, and his thighs. They smoothed across his pants as they moved, stroking his cock and his buttocks. Boy was gasping for breath, making little noises in his throat. I closed my eyes and wondered just what size he was in those pants. Zee pulled his face towards her, perhaps to give him a little kiss or hug. As his face went down, his body came up from its straddled position on his knees. His hips moved upwards until they were the highest part of his body above her. Did Zee know what she was doing to him? Or to me? Boy moved his head around – I couldn't tell whether in pleasure or embarrassment. Zee sighed. Her hands moved to hold his ass. She started massaging his ass, kneading, pulling, squeezing and stroking. Boy seemed oblivious. Even when she took hold of his briefs and pulled them down and over his ass cheeks, he didn't resist or stop moving his body. Now Boy's gorgeous cute young ass was fully revealed. With his knees still straddling her, his thighs were parted, and I could look straight into the crack of his ass. The skin was completely hairless. And there, exposed to view, was his inviting little secret entrance. Zee kept giving him pleasure with her hands roving all over his ass and thighs. I couldn't help myself. I stepped forward in my bare feet into the room to the foot of Boy's bed. I reached out the flats of my hands and placed them on his back. Then I moved them down and over his cheeks. Zee must have realised what I was doing. As my hands made contact with the skin of this most intimate part of Boy's body, her hands withdrew. I allowed my hands to explore gently, stroking his skin, massaging him, caressing his buttocks. I placed one thumb in his crack and ran it up and down. There were more groans, but I wasn't sure from whom. My other hand ran through between his legs, stroking that smooth sweet spot at the root of his body. They reached through further, cupping his balls now pulled tightly up into his body, until I could touch the base of his cock. He felt very, very hard; like a flesh-covered pillar. With my wrist pushing up into his root, I held his rigid cock in my hand. Two fingers of my other hand were now running up and down his crack. I slowed the pace. By now his ass cheeks felt wide open. His neat, clean hole was very exposed. I gradually let my fingers come to rest on the skin of his hole. His body shivered and jumped. There was a very load "AARGHHHH" from further up the bed. And then my hand holding his cock felt the pulsing explosion as his cum flew out and onto my hand. I held his cock and his ass gently but firmly. Two big pumps and then a series of smaller ones. He shuddered. It felt like he might collapse. I moved my arms to hold him around the waist, above Zee. His head stopped moving, but remained down. Very slowly, I lifted his body up and embraced him from behind. Zee lay still. The evidence of his deflowering lay in a milky, sticky trail. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, my beautiful little friend", I said, in as reassuring and comforting a voice as I could find. I lifted him up off his knees and managed to move his feet onto the floor. His briefs were still around his thighs. "Let's go to the shower". I supported him around his back as he half-walked, half-stumbled towards the bathroom. I stepped inside the glass screen of the large modern shower and helped him sit on the built-in shower-bench. I lifted the shower head off the bracket and turned on the water. I was still wearing my leggings and it didn't quite seem appropriate to strip off in front of Boy at this moment; they would just have to get wet. I adjusted the temperature to a comfortable warmth. I played the water onto his feet to check his reaction to the temperature, then I very slowly played the water onto his legs and thighs. After a few moments, I moved the shower spray up onto his body, wetting his chest, head and cock. "I think we'd better remove these", I said, handing him the showerhead to hold and then crouching down before him to take hold of his by now wet briefs and sliding them down and off his legs. He sat there, legs apart on the bench, water streaming over him. This was my first sight of his cock. He didn't try to hide himself from me. His was a strong teenager's cock, still semi-erect and projecting forward, the foreskin fully retracted and exposing his deep red/purple cockhead. I took the showerhead back from him and let it play over his body. Gradually, he began to relax, eyes shut, and allowed his body to lie back against the tiles with his legs still splayed. I kept looking down at his cock, wondering what was going through his mind about this whole experience. After a minute or two of the water cascading over his body, I noticed he'd opened his eyes. He looked into my face. Did he think he was in trouble? Did he wonder what I was doing there in the shower with him? Did he even know how he'd got there? Then his eyes lowered. My own crotch was level with his face. Nothing was said. As I held the showerhead and played the water over him, he reached forward with his hand and touched my leggings. They were wet through too, of course, and my own tumescence had only slightly subsided. My cock was lying sideways and upwards across my abdomen; it was clearly outlined by the wet nylon. His hand brushed my erection. I stood still. Then, focusing only on my cock, he squeezed it through the nylon between thumb and forefinger. He moved these fingers along, measuring my length. He covered my bulge with his whole hand, and gripped it. My cock reacted and extended. He couldn't not feel it and see it. He moved his hand to hold by balls and used his free hand to stroke the length of my cock. I looked down between his legs to see Boy's cock: it was still full. Was it going to stir again? "Sorry, Mr Tom." He said quietly. Then he whispered "Thank you." I wasn't sure if I'd heard him correctly or quite what he was sorry or grateful for. "I didn't know what to do in there. That's not me, really." He looked up at me, still rubbing my enlarged cock and balls through the wet nylon. "You are one very hot Boy", I said, "Is it any wonder I also get so excited? And you're doing absolutely fine." I let him touch me for several more moments, before gradually reducing the water pressure to stop. I reached out of the shower for a clean towel. He put his hand out to take it from me, but I said quietly "Stand up. Let me." I started towelling his hair, and moved down over his face and ears. I lifted one arm and dried it, and then the other. I rubbed across his chest and down over his stomach. It reminded me of a time when my father used to do this to me. I knelt down on the floor, and lifted one foot onto my raised knee. I dried all around his thigh, reaching up behind to dry his buttock, then over this knee and down to his feet and toes. I swapped knees and lifted and dried his other leg, repeating the process. With both his feet on the floor again, I carefully took hold of his cock with the towel and very gently dried it. "Turn around". I stood up and dried his back, from the shoulder blades down, over his narrow waist, across his buttocks and down the back of his thighs again. His feet were standing slightly astride. I got down on my knees again behind him and used the towel to wipe the remaining moisture from his ass cheeks. Very gently, I pulled his ass cheeks apart with the towel and dried his crack. Finally, and before releasing his cheeks, I couldn't resist blowing a little soft jet of breath towards his hole. I wrapped the damp towel around him. "I think I better get your shorts for you", I said, stepping out of the shower, "and find something dry for myself too". He reached his arm out to stop me, briefly. I looked at him. He looked straight back at me. "...Thank you ... Mr Tom ... for ..." but he didn't know how to finish. I smiled in reply, and went to fetch his shorts. .......................... to be continued in Chapter 3 ..................... (c) Tom Pickles, 2015 Enjoy the story. I love to hear your feedback, and suggestions for future storylines. You can contact me by email at tpickles2@gmail.com. If you want to see this kind of publishing continued, please support Nifty financially with a donation to http://donate.nifty.org/.