Date: Thu, 17 Aug 2006 19:46:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brads Idol  Chapter Three

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.  The story is based mostly on real events with
sufficient changes to names, dates, places and events to be fiction


Chapter Three: Brad's Idol


	After Christmas that year I told Dad I wanted a motor bike.  Every
time I asked about one he always told me I was too young and we couldn't
afford it.  When I argued that a lot of kids my age had them, I know
because I looked in the magazines and showed him the pictures, he still
said we couldn't afford it.  My next logical target, of course, was Uncle
Ray.

	All kids, at some point, learn how to play one parent against
another.  Well, I didn't have two parents to work like that, at least not
like most kids.  I did have Dad and Uncle Ray.  Of course, as I would find
out many years later, they knew what I was up to and did their own
manipulating, but that doesn't count right now.  The next time I visited I
had a plan in my head to talk Uncle Ray into letting me have a dirt bike.

This weekend trip to Uncle Ray's wasn't to do anything in particular, as
far as he and Dad were concerned.  We did the usual thing with him meeting
me at the bus station and stopping for supper on the way home.  He got a
quick bath and then I played in the tub.  I could here him moving about
while I was in the tub and was curious about what was going on.  He said he
had a little surprise for me and would be back to get me in about twenty
minutes.  Now, this was shortly after the holidays and it was cold outside.
Anyone who has owned an old house knows how drafty they can be, no matter
how much insulation you put in them.  Well, Uncle Ray's old house wasn't
any different.

When he came back to the bathroom to tell me to get out he had a different
towel with him.  He told me to standup and step out, which I did while
giving him a quizzical look.  He used one of the towels off the towel bar
to wipe me off real quick and I could feel the draft coming through.  Then
came part of the surprise, he wrapped me in the towel he brought in.  He
had put it in the clothes dryer and it was toasty warm and felt goooood.
When he wrapped me he reached down, picked me up and carried me to the
living room.

First thing I noticed was the lights were out and the television off.
There was a fire going in the fireplace, but he did that often.  It was
easy getting a fire with gas logs.  The doors were open on the fire box and
you could feel some heat being generated.  He sat down in his usual spot
with the right foot tucked under his left leg, as always.  This is how he
formed the little saddle or seat for me.  This time though he sat me down
facing the opposite direction than normal.  The sofa was one of those
tuxedo styles with high arms; the arm was to his right.  I always sat so I
could prop my feet on the arm and then twisted a little to my left and
leaned back on him; not this time.  I asked him what he was doing and he
told me to be patient.  Then he finished drying me, including my hair, with
one of those vigorous rubs I liked so much.

He'd always wrap the towel around my shoulders and chest, then beginning
with the middle of my back begin a fast slightly pressured circular motion.
The more he rubbed the more pressure he applied.  He moved the towel about
three times before reaching the small of my back.  This same procedure was
repeated on the front except he would just do one side of my chest at a
time and then my stomach.  With each arm wrapped in the towel he wrapped
both hands around them and moved them up and down real fast, putting on
more pressure with each trip up and down.  This same process was repeated
on each leg.  When he finished the skin tingled almost like the tingle you
feel if your hand or foot goes to sleep and then the circulation slowly
returns.  The towel would be wrapped over my head and then each hand moved
in a circular direction, opposing each other.  The hair felt like it was
being pulled, rubbed and dried all at one time.  Man, when he did that I
always felt great.

The towel was discarded, but in front of the fireplace it felt really warm,
I loved it.  He had moved a little to the left and shifted me to sit on his
left leg.  Moving some pillows behind me he then pushed me into a semi
reclining position.  Then the second part of the surprise came.  He reached
over to the table and picked up a bottle of baby powder.  Now at eight and
a half I was too big for baby powder and told him so.  He told me to hush,
I formed too many opinions without checking things out first, and I might
get a pleasant surprise.  He sprinkled some on my chest and stomach and
began gently rubbing me down with it.  The rub was slower and lighter than
he had done with the towel.  It didn't take hardly any time before he had
me squirming.  I loved the feel of his hands rubbing all over me.  This is
something I had longed for him to do forever.  Now, I was experiencing some
of the greatest feelings ever in my life.

His hand would pass softly over my chest and nips.  He didn't keep it light
enough to really tickle, but gentle enough to be highly sensuous, although
I had no idea what that was then.  I loved it when after the palm passed
over the nipple he would use the tip of his finger to outline the nipple
and then with his fingernail, give it a little flip; this was fantastic.
He rubbed down the whole front of my body.  He even put some on his fingers
and massaged the sides of my face.  When he used two fingers on each side,
slowly pulling them over my cheeks and moving down just in front of my
ears, I got goose bumps all over.  He would stop with his fingers at the
temple right next to the eye and using his thumbs, massage the area just
below my eyes and along the side of the nose.  As he passed my ears he let
the second finger of each hand reach out and touch the outline of the ear.

 When he started on my legs and moved inside the thigh I started whimpering
like a puppy.  I really loved it when he would rub with his fingers and
then retrace with the tip of his finger and fingernail.  He rubbed inside
the thigh right up to my little sac, making several trips, testing me to
see how much he could make me squirm and whimper.  Then he sprinkled powder
and gently massaged my sac and little prick.  When he finished there he
turned me over.  What really added to all these feelings was that he would
say absolutely nothing.  My enjoyment was never interrupted by the need to
listen, think or answer.  I was allowed to just enjoy, soaking up the
feelings and allowing my body to react naturally.

When he turned me over I was like a wet noodle.  Baby powder, any time!  He
repeated the process on my back and sides, but instead of just gently
rubbing me he used his finger tips to massage the muscles.  He would use
the first two fingers and trace down my backbone, then applying a little
more pressure, follow the same line back up.  He repeated each path three
or four times before spreading his fingers and repeating the movement.  By
this time I was too far out of it to even think or care how many trips his
fingers made up and down my back.. Who cared as long as he didn't stop.
This is something I had heard about but never experienced.  No one, and I
do mean no one, had ever done anything like this for me.  He had reduced me
to a babbling, whimpering little puppy that he could do anything to he
wanted.  Whatever he wanted the answer was yes.  He would go up and down my
back stopping right at the entrance to my crack and then moving across the
top of each cheek.  Each time he did this I would wiggle my butt, wanting
him to keep going.  He knew I wanted him to keep going but kept teasing me.

Just as on the front he sprinkled powder over the back of my legs and
gently rubbed, then massaged the muscles there.  I remember he did pause
behind the knee to just ever so lightly touch me there and it sent chills
throughout my body.  When I didn't think it could get any better, it did.
He sprinkled some powder over my butt and then, using only one finger,
began to move it in a concentric circle over each cheek.  If the finger
moved clockwise over the cheek he switched to his fingernail to retrace the
path in a counterclockwise direction.  He would move from one side to the
other, deliberately making me squirm.  Then he did it.  As he crossed from
one side to the other he stopped at the top of my crack and ever so lightly
ran one finger oh so slowly down my crack and then back up.  If I could
have jumped out of my skin I would have.

Then he used two fingers, gently caressing the inside of each cheek down
and then back up.  After doing this a few times I was setting a new record
for squirming and whimpering.  He put me through so much of this I was
panting.  When he started another trip down he moved his hand to the inside
of the thigh, I automatically opened my legs for him.  It was just go, go
do anything you want but don't stop.  He placed the palm of his hand over
my butt and using first one finger for several rotations he used the two
middle fingers to massage the area between the sac and my treasure hole.
He just left his fingers there moving ever so slowly and gently, and me
losing it.

I don't know how long he did this to me but it was a long time.
Eventually, when I was at the point of exhaustion and panting like a puppy
in heat, he rolled me over to look at him.  God, I wish I knew what I could
do to make him as happy as he had just made me.  He simply looked down at
me and smiled, never making a sound or saying a word; just allowing me to
savor the moment.  I reached up and locked my arms around his neck and
didn't want to let go.  He supported me with a strong right hand behind my
upper back and at the same time he lay his left hand gently over my right
leg.  When he realized I wasn't going to let go he cradled me in his arms
and carried me to bed.  He never asked or expected reciprocity.

Sunday morning I began by bringing him his coffee in bed.  I also retrieved
the paper.  Although I was naked the paper was always left inside the
screen door so it was easy to get without dressing.  There were times when
I hoped they had thrown it on the lawn, I always wanted to walk out there
naked to get it.  Setting the cup of coffee on the night stand I pulled the
covers back and climbed on top of him.  This was always a good way to be
sure you had his attention and he would always be in a playful mood.  Using
the cutest of the cutesy tricks I knew, I started with my spiel on why I
should have a dirt bike.

I should have known something was up when he said he thought it might be a
good idea; this was too easy.  I thought I had it made, then he added two
things.  First, he said Dad would have to approve it - no problem there.
Then the bomb hit, he asked me how I was going to earn the money to pay for
it.  What did he mean earn the money to pay for it?  He was supposed to do
that!

	Searching the classified ads I found out a used bike my size back
then was about one hundred and fifty bucks, plus Uncle Ray said I had to
have a helmet.  That kind of money to an eight and a half year old is a
fortune.  When Uncle Ray took me home that weekend he, Dad and I talked
about the bike.  Without me knowing it Dad and Uncle Ray had talked and
decided they were tired of saying no to me and if I could earn the money I
could buy the bike and Uncle Ray would get the helmet.  This way they
didn't say no and if I didn't get the bike it was my fault.  Of course,
they figured where is an eight year old going to get that kind of money.
Well, I did it.

	Living at university in family housing there were lots of families
that I just knew would be willing to let me do odd chores and pay me.  I'd
have that money in no time.  I washed more cars, more dishes, hauled out
garbage down two flights of stairs to the dumpster.  This wasn't so bad
unless the bags broke and I was showered in garbage, which happened more
than once.  When it did Dad and Uncle Ray got a good laugh and told me how
bad I smelled.  Once, it happened just before we were to go out, so I just
brushed it off and figured the rest would dry.  When I ran to the car they
said no way was I going to sit on that upholstery.

I had a choice of being tied on top of the car or getting a shower real
fast before they left me.  I was stripping while running to the
apartment. I made record time walking through the shower and grabbing fresh
clothes.  As long as I didn't bother to dry I saved time, the new clothes
would dry me.  Dad and Uncle Ray were sitting in the car with the motor
running like they were about to leave me (of course they really wouldn't)
when I jumped in.  They took one look at me and laughed.  My pants weren't
fastened, I was having to hold them up, and the shirt was just there, no
buttons buttoned and not tucked in, and my shoes were in my hands.  I
finished dressing in the back seat and Uncle Ray got my soaked mop combed
out.  We were off.

Do you have any idea how many chores have to be done at fifty cents to a
dollar a pop to get one hundred and fifty bucks?  After almost three months
of this I figured I was going to be an old man before I got that much.
Then the idea hit me.  You see, I'm an independence day kid and I had a
birthday coming up.  The next time I visited Uncle Ray I asked him if I
could call my grandmother (Dad's mother).  It was long distance and we
couldn't run up the bill at university.  Well, I called all the relatives
out of town that normally sent me something for my birthday and let them
know I needed money this year.  I told them about the deal Dad and Uncle
Ray made with me and how hard I had been working to earn the money.  I
always wondered how many later called Dad to find out what was going on,
but no one ever told me anything.  After all the birthday cards were opened
that year I was one happy kid.  The next weekend I was at Uncle Ray's
pouring through ads to find a bike.

Ever notice that when you want something but don't have the means to get it
there is a big supply.  However, when you want something and do have the
means to get it, there is little or no supply.  That's what happened with
my bike.  We did go look at two or three used ones but they were wrecked
and beat up.  There would be no bike that weekend.

I was nine now and didn't get the bike that weekend, but I was still with
Uncle Ray.  What I liked the most was I was staying with him for several
weeks.  It was summer and the babysitter was not in school that semester.
Dad had a temporary job as assistant professor teaching two courses plus
his own school work; there was nobody to watch me.  Uncle Ray had his own
business so there was no problem going to work with him.  By now I never
bothered with clothes when I was at his house and he didn't seem to care.
He had a private backyard so I could even go out and play naked sometimes,
although I was usually in the back yard guiding a mower now, too.  Seems
getting older and bigger entails doing more work and less play.

After a couple of weekends of frustration looking at 'like new' bikes that
were junk, Uncle Ray redirected the efforts.  We went to the dealer and got
a rebuilt XR-75.  It cost a lot more than what I had, but Uncle Ray put up
the difference.  He said I fulfilled my part of the bargain and if he
changed the parameters then he would pay the difference -- fine with me!
Of course, they couldn't just let me ride out on my own.  Riding back on
woods trails you could go down and get hurt, there would be nobody to help.
Problem solved when Uncle Ray bought himself a used street bike and did a
simple strip and convert job.  Dad always said my bike was just an excuse
for Uncle Ray to get one for himself.  Who cares, it was great.

If you've ever had a motor bike you know there is nothing like riding the
trail shirtless and feeling the wind caress your skin.  This is what I
enjoyed.  There is an incredible feeling of freedom and feeling alive
outside your daily world.  Of course for me I always enjoyed being outside
and also enjoyed wearing as few clothes as possible.  Usually, by the end
of each summer I had a fantastic tan and my hair would bleach out to a
reddish blond.  Uncle Ray always rode with me and he rode just like me.
What a time.

At nine I was beginning to awaken to my body and changes that were not only
physical, but I became more sensitive to touch.  I became more aware of
things happening around me.  At university most of the boys were older than
me and listening to the conversations of the older boys a lot of questions
formed in my head, especially after I found some magazines in Dad's
bedroom.  This was definitely to be an interesting summer.


End Chapter Three

To Be Continued - comments welcome; contact Dwight Wilson at
adm2780@yahoo.com