Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2005 15:34:40 -0800 (PST)
From: New Stories <storiesnew@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boy Who Was Late for School - Chapter 1

The Boy Who Was Late for School
by Dennis Banneker
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com

Check with your local and regional laws before reading this story
which depicts homosexual sex acts.  You must be of legal age and
not be offended by this type of content.
________________________________________


OTHER STORIES

You can find a list of my other stories with a brief description
of each at the end of *this* chapter.  As of November 19, 2005,
this is the latest list.  Ages of the characters are included to
help give you more info.
________________________________________


CHAPTER 1


    I don't know why I picked him up.  He was a good-looking boy,
but younger than my preferred age of 15 to 19.  He wasn't even
hitchhiking--or at least, he didn't have his thumb out.  Something
about the expression on his face caught my eye and made me stop.

    It was December 17--a clear, very cold Tuesday morning.  On
my way to breakfast--driving beyond my rural neighborhood to
the nearest diner, a favorite place of mine--I realized I was
being lazy and wasting money eating out all the time, and decided
to go home to cook breakfast for myself.  Tuesdays and Wednesdays
were my days off, so I had no worries about time.

    After I made a U-turn to head back home, there he was--the boy
who turned my head--with a striking angelic face, lusciously smooth
honey-colored skin, bright eyes, beautiful nose and lips, and a
boyish shock of light brown hair that sparkled blond in the morning
sunlight.  He was thin, well-proportioned, and too young for me.

    The temperature was many degrees below freezing, and I thought
he was under-dressed in his lightweight jacket.

    But his face--he seemed happy enough--there was a look of
seriousness, almost concern there that gave him a maturity beyond
his age.  Maybe he's very intelligent, I thought hopefully.  That
sparked my interest.  One of my objections to younger boys was the
difficulty in communicating with them.  They never quite understood
what I was saying, and I had to rephrase continually.

    The closer I got to him, the more I felt the concern in his
face was more than my imagination.

    His eyes pierced mine, right through the windshield.  The
intensity, the expectation in his gaze, drew me into him.  There
was no way I could just pass him by.  I HAD to stop.  I put down
the passenger-side window and leaned over.

    "Would you like a ride somewhere?"

    At first, he looked stunned, perhaps afraid, and said
nothing, standing his ground.

    "You look cold," I said, worried that he'd be chilled to the
bone if he stayed outdoors dressed so lightly.  "You can get in
and warm yourself up, even if you don't need a ride."

    By then he was smiling--no, beaming at me.  I felt a thump in
my chest.  This was no ordinary facial expression.  He seemed
genuinely pleased and approached the car.

    "Sure.  Thanks!" he said through the open window as I popped
the locks and he got in.

    "Aren't you freezing?"  I put the window up, suddenly feeling
a stir of adventure with the boy in close proximity.

    "Yeah," he said, smiling proudly as if he were happy about
being half-frozen.  Maybe he had a macho complex and felt the cold
was a challenge he had to overcome.  He looked a little young for
that, but it was the only explanation I could think of.

    Besides, what did *I* know.  I was an only child--not good at
reading facial expressions of younger guys.  I'd just had my 24th
birthday a week ago, and was feeling good about my workout routine
and how fit that made me look.

    Maybe it was his subtle scent that made me think of my
appearance.  Or had I become suddenly self-conscious and acquired a
sense of rivalry?  Or could it be that, deep down somewhere, I had
a need to be appealing to him?  In any case, it was a boyish scent
--rousing, keen, befitting his youthful alertness.

    "Just, 'yeah?'  How are you feeling?  Where do you need to
go?"

    The change in his expression was a shock to my system.  The
boy screwed up his face and began to tremble.

    "I missed the bus.  I'm late for school and my mom's gonna
kill me!"

    "I'm sorry.  But it'll be okay.  My dad's principal of
Clayton.  I might be able to have him call over to your school and
let them know you're okay and will just be a little late."  Clayton
was the senior high school on the other side of town.

    "No," he said, "I'm not going.  I can't."

    This made me pause.  I had a feeling there was something more
than lateness that caused his anxiety, but I decided to accept
his decision.

    I knew I was giving in to foolish desires, but to question him
about this would be treating him like a child, even though I
would feel better if I took him to school.  I had a selfish
motive, too.  This kid was so stimulating to talk to and look at,
I wanted his company.  But I had to let him know I was treating
him as an adult, and took him at his word.

    "Okay," I said with a note of finality--hoping to imply that I
accepted his decision without question.

    "Really?" he said, almost whispering in surprise--a cute,
adventurous, choked sort of tone that only boys seemed capable of
making.  His face lit up.  "That's it?  Just, OKAY?"

    "Yes.  Are you hungry?"

    "Um--yeah," he said hesitantly, his face dropping somewhat.
"I missed breakfast, too."

    "Well, you're in luck!  I was on my way to have breakfast.
Then I decided to cook my own.  But we could go to the diner."

    "No, that's okay," he said with an enthusiastic smile, "I
don't like restaurants that much.  Home-cooking's always better."

    "Great!  I do good bacon and eggs."

    "I love bacon and eggs."

    "Well . . . . " I said, suddenly questioning my sanity--
realizing I had a very young stranger in my car.  "As long as
you're comfortable going home with me--I'm single and I live alone.
Is that okay?"

    "Way okay.  I feel safe with you."

    "Wow, that's great," I said, excited by the compliment.  But I
wondered how he could feel safe with me or any other stranger so
quickly.

    "You're a smart guy."  He said this calmly--his formerly half-
frozen, purple cheeks now a restful shade of what I presumed to be
his normal, lightly-tanned skin color, with a healthy blush of
red--those apples in the cheeks that I find charming.

    "I am?"  I said this to induce him to tell me why he thinks
I'm smart--if indeed he actually thought that.

    I felt a blush rise in my face and wondered whether it arose
from the excitement and novelty of interacting with this boy, or
something else--the aura of sensuality he had about him, as if he
were aware of every one of his nerves and organs, inducing his own
somewhat self-conscious animation.

    Absorbed in this thought, I nearly missed his reply.  This was
a boy who definitely had something between his ears, and deserved
my attention.  I became concerned for his general welfare.

    "Yeah.  The way you talk--nice words, no slurring.  And you
care about me."

    "Oh," I said, blushing, "thanks."  I smiled at him.  He was
either a genius or he read minds.

    "You're welcome."

    "I think you're a smart guy, too," I said.  "But I don't even
know you're name.  Mine's Matthew.  Call me Matt."

    "Nice to meet you, Matt.  I'm Cole."

    "Pleasure to meet you, Cole," I said, gulping from the effect
Cole was having on me.  "Nice name.  Simple and beautiful."

    I refrained from saying, 'beautiful like you.'

    "How old are you?" he asked.

    "You first," I said with a playful grin.  I had another thump
in my chest when Cole grinned back with a boyish enthusiasm I
found exciting.

    "How old do you think I am?" he said, becoming more
captivating with each sentence.

    "That's not fair," I said.  "If I'm off either way, you might
be offended."

    "No, I won't be--I swear."

    I did some quick thinking.  I decided to guess high, to be on
the safe side.

    "Okay--I'll guess you're thirteen."  I felt the blush in my
face and pounding in my heart.

    "Right!  How'd you do that?  I'll be fourteen in a few months.
Everyone guesses younger."

    "Oh," I said with no idea how to explain this one, "just a
feeling I get when I see your eyes."  I *did* get a feeling when I
looked into his eyes.

    This brightened Cole's smile, which went along with his
sudden blush.

    "Wow.  You ARE smart."

    There was no good comeback.

    "How are your grades?"

    "Mostly A's.  You didn't tell me how old you were."

    "Oh.  Twenty-four, sorry."

    "No way!"

    "No way?  What--"

    "Yeah.  I thought you were like eighteen."

    "Thanks.  We can slip into a parallel universe and I can be
eighteen today.  Just for you."

    This made Cole giggle.  He was cuter when he giggled.

    "Well, you look way younger then twenty-four."

    "Thanks, Cole," I said, blushing more.  "So--how do you like
school?"

    "I like it.  I get bored sometimes cuz I already read the
textbooks and know the stuff, but I pay attention."

    "Very nice."

    We drove the last few minutes in silence and I pulled into my
driveway.  The house was set back from the road, had a small barn,
and a big pond out back that was for use by firemen since there
were no hydrants.  But in the summer it was great for swimming.

    "Your place is HUGE, Matt," Cole said, his eyes going wide.

    "Yes--I wanted a big house on a large piece of land."

    I cooked breakfast, answering a million questions from Cole.
Before I knew it, we were sitting at my kitchen table, eating.

    "Wow--even your kitchen is big.  It's really nice."

    "I'll show you the rest of the house later," I said between
bites.  "So--how are things at home?"  I was concerned about that,
since Cole seemed so upset at the prospect of his mother's anger
over his lateness--now absence--from school.

    "Well, mom's okay.  We get along.  My dad died when I was
eleven."

    "Oh, I'm sorry--"

    "No, that's okay.  I just . . . still miss him."  Cole's tone
had an intensity when he said that.  I had a feeling his dad and
he had a good relationship.

    "If we stay in the parallel universe, I can be your dad."

    "Yeah--that'd be great," he said with a laugh.  "I like you."

    His last three words stunned me, and my guard vanished.

    "I like you, too, Cole."

    "Thanks," he said with his broadest grin yet.

    I don't think he was expecting me to say that.  He looked down
at his food and ate slowly.  His blush enchanted me.

    "Tell me--what occupies a thirteen-year-old's mind these
days?"

    "You mean me?"

    "Yes."

    More blushes.

    "Oh--I don't know.  School . . . family . . . sports.  I don't
play any and I feel left out.  Don't have many friends."  Here,
Cole paused and looked pained.  "Actually, I don't have ANY real
friends."  His voice went low and soft, conveying some anguish
and disappointment over this.

    "Yes you do," I said firmly.

    "No--I mean it."

    "What about me?  I feel like I'm your friend."

    "Oh," he said, face lighting up brilliantly, his fork stopping
in mid air, "You ARE!  And can I--"

    "And you're MY friend, Cole," I said, getting up from the
table and going behind him.

    "That is so cool!"

    I rubbed his shoulders, hoping to relieve the tension in him--
also needing to touch him.  "Is this okay?"

    "Way okay," he said with an impish grin as he twisted his head
impossibly to the side and back, to look at me.

    After my brief massage, I resumed my place at the table.  We
finished breakfast, Cole thanking me profusely and praising my
cooking skills.

    "My mother taught me," I said.

    We stayed at our places, talking.

    "I needed a friend--'specially today!" he said, tears rolling
gently down his softly curved cheek, "And you were there!  And you
wanted to help me!  That felt so good."  The tears came faster.

    I remained seated, impressed that Cole would maintain eye
contact, even though he was in the private act of crying.

    "I'm glad you feel that way.  I feel good about it, too."

    "Sorry," he said, wiping his tears with his hands, but
obviously pleased with my response.

    "Don't be.  Takes a real man to cry."

    Cole didn't say anything, but the sly grin on his face--looking
up at me, his fingers wiping his eyes--was one of the most
endearing things I'd ever seen.

    I pushed my chair back, slumping a little and relaxing,
watching him, feeling the arousal that came from doing that as I
thought about what I'd said.  Indirectly, I'd just told him I
thought he was behaving like quite a man.

    Cole was silent, his eyes going wide, then his expression
became thoughtful.

    "Wow," he said softly, "thanks."  There was power in his two
words, as if he'd taken my remark as a supreme gift; profoundly
thirsty for those words.

    His sensual blush disarmed me further and stirred my desires.
Gulping, I wondered if I could stir Cole, in return.

    "What do you think about when you lie in bed at night?"

    His blush didn't surprise me.

    "Just . . . just stuff, I guess," his charming expression of
cautious avoidance stimulating me.

    "Potential friends?  People you see at school that you like?"

    "Yeah," he said, looking at me very briefly.  But his eyes
happened to fall in my lap, where my erection was showing.  The
blush in his face told me he'd gotten a good look at it.

    I was too embarrassed to adjust myself, knowing that touching
it would call more attention to it.

    "So, what kind of feeling do you get when you think about
people at school?"

    "Um--well--horny feelings."  This was accompanied by his
deepest blush as his eyes fixed on my obvious excitement--the
familiar protrusion evidently loosening his tongue.

    I looked briefly at the bulge in my lap, grinning with
embarrassment, my sense of adventure unabashed, if not heightened,
as I returned to his eyes.

    "Guys or girls?" I asked--gulping with the tension I felt over
the boldness of my question.

    "Guys.  I like guys.  You do too, I can tell."  Here, Cole was
confident, his eyes defying me to say 'no.'

    "Oh?"  I had underestimated his intelligence.  He'd shocked me.

    "Yeah--you got horny talking to me."

    "Is that a bad thing?" I asked nervously, attempting to
maintain a calm exterior.

    "No," he said, face crimson with a hint of a smile, pushing
his fingers into his crotch, apparently adjusting his hardness.

    "It's fine," I said, "happens to boys and young men all the
time."

    "YOU could still be a boy--you're fun, and you're cute."

    At this slip of the tongue, Cole blushed and panicked
simultaneously.  I stepped in.

    "So are you, Cole.  Very much."

    Now I wondered whose was the deeper blush as I awaited his
response at this critical juncture.

    "Really?" he whispered, a look of awe flashing across his face.

    "Really," I said, standing, committing the ultimate self-
embarrassment--letting another person see direct evidence of your
sexual excitement.  I gazed at the floor.  It was an awkward
moment, and I gulped with the tension.

    When I looked up and saw his little grin, my desire flared.

    Cole stood, his eyes glued to mine.  Seconds later, our eyes
strayed momentarily to each other's bulged clothing.

    I put my arms out, inviting him for a hug.

    "Oh, yes!" he said, flinging his arms around me.

Dennis B.
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com

That's all I wrote so far.  Thanks for reading.

Any comments would be great!
Hope you liked it.  I feel like continuing this story.
Even one email would put a smile on my face and make it
easier to write more.   :-)  --Dennis

I HAVE 7 OTHER STORIES:

1.  Crazy for Chad (a love story; ages 16 & 17)
      - last post APPROX. Nov. 15, 2005; High School

2.  Getting it Hard at Spankin High (a discipline-school story;
    ages 13 to 19)
      - last post APPROX. Oct. 26, 2005; Authoritarian

3.  Finding the Boy Who Stole My Heart (a kind of love story;
    ages 22 and 15; nothing forced)
      - last post APPROX. Oct. 9, 2005; Adult-Youth

4.  Spankin High School Club Initiation (high school ages;)
      - last post APPROX. Oct. 16, 2005; High School; Athletics

5.  My Son Drives Me Crazy
      - last post APPROX. Oct. 8, 2005; Incest

6.  Discovering My Little Brother (two brothers, 17 and 13 start
    to get along real well)
      - last post APPROX. Nov. 14, 2005; Incest

7.  Frat Initiation Hell Week (not as grueling as first
    meets the eye)
      - New story.  Chapter 1 posted APPROX. Nov. 7, 2005;
        Authoritarian.

LAST POST DATES good as of November 19, 2005.  Actual date may be
later, by the time you read this.

Thanks,
Dennis
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com