Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2018 10:58:37 +0100 (CET)
From: David <lovebug69@tutanota.com>
Subject: David's World, Part Three-David and the Man

In this chapter, David goes looking for the boy from yesterday and finds
more than he bargained for. If you are reading this to get off, there
should be ample opportunity throughout -- but do not wait until the last
paragraph, as that one is a cock deflater.

I enjoy hearing from you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy
writing it. I retain all rights of ownership, use and distribution while
granting Nifty digital license to share this with you for your personal
reading pleasure only, according to Nifty's terms.

If you are able, please consider a small donation to Nifty to help maintain
this great repository of GLBT erotica. It's easy. Just go to
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html .

-David, aka Lovebug

********************

DAVID'S WORLD

PART THREE: David and the Man

[In the last chapter, 12-year-old David realized he might be gay and he
nearly had his first sexual encounter, a very near miss with a beautiful
14-year-old boy he met in the library.]

One would think after masturbating six times in a span of about five hours
last evening, I wouldn't still be horny. I was surprised to awaken with
morning wood. Not that waking up with a hard-on was a surprise; no, what
once was an occasional nuisance is now a pleasant daily occurrence. I
thought of the boy from yesterday. Oh, that cute boy! I was infatuated with
him although I didn't know it. Puppy love at its finest. I was angry with
the couple who interrupted us and angry with myself for being too chicken
to return to the restroom to do "something stupid."

I lightly caressed my tummy then drew my fingertips slowly up my sides to
my bare chest before flicking my nipples, which responded by getting as
hard as my dick. I reached into my pajama bottoms and caressed my morning
buddy. I didn't like its stickiness, so I fondled my balls, loving their
silky smoothness and looseness of their warm sack. I rolled a testicle
loosely between my thumb and fingers, sizing it up, comparing it to the
beautiful balls I saw yesterday. I gotta go back and meet him again, I
thought. I lightly ran my fingers down the space between my thigh and
ballsack from where it started high in my groin to the bottom of my balls,
one side then the other, then he cupped my small ballsack and teasingly
tickled my perineum. My anus involuntarily tightened and my dick jumped. I
had learned how sensitive I am down there and how good these light caresses
feel. If only that boy could be caressing me, and I him...

"David, you're going to be late!" my mother rudely broke my fantasy. "Get
up and get ready NOW!"

"I'm up," I shouted back. "Geez Louise," I added quietly.

Today was Friday, one more day of school, I thought, but at least it's a
half-day. I am a good student; I like school. But this year I seem to have
a hard time concentrating. I grinned at my pun, wishing I could tell it to
someone.

I grabbed clean underwear -- choosing old, tight undies today having
learned my lesson yesterday -- and picked out a pair of shorts I was
outgrowing, having also recently learned how hot a tight crotch looks, and
I wanted to look my best for that high school boy if I should find him in
the library. Oh, that boy! I can't stop thinking about him! I changed my
mind, tossed the shorts on the floor and grabbed an old pair of 501s from
the next drawer.

I ran to the bathroom to shower. I was half-hard when I stepped under the
warm water but managed to pee anyway, all over the wall and knobs. I
briefly worried how I would manage PE when I had to dress out and shower
starting next week. Maybe they still haven't finished construction, I
hoped. I washed my hair. It was starting to grow out now and I decided I
wanted to grow it long if mom and dad let me, tired of the Mormon short
hair. I soaped my thin body, liking my developing muscle definition I had
not noticed until a few weeks ago. I loved my tan lines, the deep golden
brown of my tummy that abruptly stopped at my waist and resumed on my
thighs a few inches below my nuts, highlighting the blinding whiteness of
my groin. Ah, my little friend, finally resting. It looks so cool capped
with a couple dozen short brown wisps, hanging about two inches with its
foreskin draping slightly beyond its head matching nearly perfectly the
hang of my nutbag.

Lately, I save washing it for last. I grabbed the hand-held shower head and
brought it down under my nuts. Ah, that tickles soooo good! I was hard in
seconds, my two-inch sleeper having risen to an almost four-inch rager
pointing nearly straight up. My foreskin pulled back about even with my
piss slit. I thought about that boy's dick as I fully retracted my foreskin
with soapy fingers, wondering if the boy was circumcised or if his foreskin
had simply been pulled back.

BangBangBang

"David!" my mother began as she pounded on the bathroom door, startling
me. I jumped and dropped the shower head which clanked loudly on the side
of the tub. She heard it. "What are you doing in there?" she demanded.

"Nothing! I'm taking a shower. I'm done!"

"Well hurry up! What has gotten into you lately!" she shouted, obviously
angry. "I have to leave for work or I'll be late. You don't have time for
breakfast, so grab some peanut butter crackers and eat them on your
way. There's lunch money on the table."

Late my ass. Her work is five minutes away by car, and it was... I looked
at my watch. Shoot! 7:30. I did need to hurry. "Okay mom." I turned off the
water and got ready for school, wishing I had time to finish what I had
started. I decided on a dressier shirt to go with my 501s. In Huntington
Beach, you were considered dressed up if you wore long pants and socks. I
chose a royal blue Izod, a shirt with a collar and a three-button opening
in the front that must NEVER be buttoned. Girls have complimented me in
that shirt, telling how it brings out my blue eyes. I checked myself in
front of my parents' mirrored closet doors and got hard staring at the nice
little lump staring back at me. I pointed my dick up and it was well hidden
but my now larger bulge was still very noticeable to anyone who really
looked. Perfect. Even not tucked in, my shirt wasn't long enough to cover
my crotch.

At recess, I hung with the usual suspects, about six of us 7th and
8th-grade boys, friends from the troop. All were Mormon, but two didn't go
to church (three, if you now count me). Again, I couldn't help staring at
Bruce's crotch. His 501s had a white-ish area worn into the denim covering
what must be his dick, on the right side of the buttons (for those who
don't know, Levi's 501s have a five-button fly with no zipper). My other
friends did not interest me sexually any more than my mom. I got hard in no
time, but I was able to reach into my pockets and pocket-pool my dick to
point up, so it couldn't have shown much. Again, Bruce caught me staring at
his bulge several times. Damn, I gotta be more careful. Finally, he smiled,
and I swear his lump had grown! Hmmm. I never caught him looking at my
crotch, so either he isn't interested or he is sneakier, perhaps more
practiced. The bell rang and we all headed back toward our classes.

Bruce made his way beside me as we walked. He was much taller, so he easily
rested his forearm on my shoulder as we walked. "Nice pants," Bruce said
sarcastically. It's so hot I'm surprised to see you without your OPs," he
said, referring to the corduroy shorts I usually wore, shorts popular in
beach cities at the time.

"What's that? You want to see me without my OPs, you perv?" I joked.

"Sure," he grinned, "Maybe camping next week," he added as we parted ways,
Bruce off to eighth-grade wonderland and I off to seventh-grade
boredom. That was strange, very strange I thought, not knowing Bruce would
become my first boy sex partner just seven days hence.

The day flew by. After school I rode straight to the library, hoping to
find the boy from yesterday. I rode with a boner, occasionally leaning
forward to press into my seat, putting pressure on my perineum, my new
second -- no, third-best friend (my nipples still edged out my perineum,
and of course you know number one). I racked and locked my bike and hurried
inside. I had left my school notebooks in my locker as I had no weekend
homework, so I was unencumbered and ready, so ready to do "something
stupid."

The library was nearly empty. Ann, the short, Japanese-American librarian,
greeted me with her usual broad smile and a "herro" as she recognized me
from my recently frequent visits and occasional brief conversations. I made
my way to the far corner where I had met my new friend yesterday but was
disappointed he was not there. Did he feel as I did? Would he come looking
for me as I was looking for him? I sneaked over to the sex aisle. Odd that
books about masturbation were catalogued so closely to the gay books, but
that was serendipity it turned out, as I noticed and grabbed my first gay
book a few weeks ago while looking for information about masturbation, and
the gay books helped me understand my burgeoning homosexual desires. Just
as I was about to turn down that aisle, Ann popped around the corner with
her cartful of books to re-shelve.

"Oh, herro again," she beamed. "Can I heirp you find somesingu?"

"Yeah, the hot boy I met here yesterday who I saw naked with a raging boner
and with whom I almost did something stupid!" I thought, and chuckled.

"No, I was just looking." I said, as if I were browsing the aisles of
JCPenny. "Thanks, though."

That was close. A minute later and Ann would have caught me looking at the
gay books. There just were not enough people in the library for me to not
be noticed, if that makes sense, so I left. It occurred to me then that it
was early, it was probably not a half-day for the high school, and most
kids would not spend a Friday afternoon in the library anyway, so I
probably had a better chance of meeting him again Monday. I headed for the
door, got a good long drink of water, hopped on my bike and rode off. It
was now almost 1:00, still at least a couple hours before the high school
kids got out.

I rode in no particular direction -- or so I thought, as I ended up near
the restroom where I first saw a real-life boner other than my own. I had
to stop. There was nobody around yet my heart started pounding, my palms
got sweaty, and I became keenly aware of my surroundings. Fight or flight
mode I mused, thinking of something I had read somewhere. Inside, I leaned
my bike against the wall and I went straight to the back stall. I latched
the door, unbuttoned and pushed my jeans to my ankles as I sat down,
letting my very-hard dick stand up; I bunched up my shirt under my arm and
held it; I leaned back slightly; I was him. I recreated the exact
unforgettable pose he made for me yesterday. Oh, how I wished he was
standing before me right now! I thought about what we would do. While
seated, my mouth was at the perfect height to kiss his dick, to kiss his
balls. I imagined kissing, then licking his precious toys. I put a finger
in my mouth and wondered if his dick would feel like that, although his
dick was bigger and thick as a roll of quarters.

I fondled myself, lightly caressing all over my precious jewels, enjoying
the thrill of being in a public restroom where yesterday I came so close to
touching the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I grabbed a handful of
balls and positioned my arm back so my hardness rested on my forearm giving
me the most erotic feeling I had come up with so far. It felt like I was
holding someone else's junk. That boy's junk.

I started lightly stroking when I noticed graffiti on the metal stall
partition. Most was nonsense, dumb little rhymes, "Jesus Saves"
proclamations and such, but on the door near the bottom someone had written
"Tap foot for BJ." I surmised BJ was blowjob. Another had written "BJ $10
Wednesdays PM." What exactly was the difference between a blowjob and
sucking, anyway? I wanted so badly to do both with my new friend! I eagerly
tapped my foot although I knew I was alone in the restroom. Practice or
wishful thinking, I guess. Finally, I noticed a comment that would change
my life: "Meet at the Gothard Street bathroom." No time, no date; an open
invitation from the restroom resident, apparently. Of course curiosity got
that best of me. Well curiosity and hormones.

I buttoned up and rode to the restroom near the Gothard parking lot. As I
approached I noticed it was fairly busy with guys going in and out and
there were many cars in the parking lot. No, it was way too busy to be a
fag restroom. I knew of another restroom near Gothard in a more remote part
of the park and decided to head that way. There was no parking lot, but
people could park near it on Gothard Street. I walked my bike across the
gravel and into the restroom, thinking the noisy gravel would warn me if
someone approached, as happened yesterday. The restroom was empty, but
different than the others. It had the same layout, but the stall doors and
the partition between the crappers had been removed, leaving little
privacy. A single partition wall separated the urinals from the crappers
remained, at least offering privacy from the doorway.

By now I was so horny I didn't care. There was nobody around, and I thought
of how it might have been had we come to this restroom yesterday. I pushed
my pants and undies to my ankles, sat on the toilet next to the partition,
and caressed my hardness while playing with my nipples. I imagined him
standing before me, but now I had his cock buried in my mouth with his
pubes tickling my nose. He was uncircumcised, I decided, so I pulled back
enough to stick my tongue under his foreskin and lick his piss slit. I felt
so naughty! I had never thought such things and I loved it! I grabbed my
throbbing dick in the usual manner between my thumb and two fingers and
began pumping wildly. I was seconds away from climax when I thought I heard
footsteps outside. Almost immediately I saw a shadow under the partition
near the door which confirmed what I heard. Noise from the damn exhaust fan
had masked my warning. I did not have time to pull up my pants.

I quickly leaned forward, forearms on my thighs, and crossed my arms to
hide my still rampant erection. Head down to hide my face, I stared at my
feet trying to act innocent as a man in blue jeans and work boots walked
over and stood directly in front of me, not saying a word. I was terrified!
I couldn't look up, so I saw only his jeans and boots. My mouth was dry as
sand. I had to swallow but couldn't. Why was he just standing there? I was
losing it as I thought I was about to die. Fight or flight was bull or
shit; I was paralyzed, wanting to curl up in a ball and pray for a quick
end. The man slowly walked away, and I thanked God for small mercies.

Wait a minute, he's not leaving! I watched his shadow as he approached the
urinal next to me, the metal partition separating us. Still, I was
relieved, but still, I was terrified, too scared to get up. My legs were
jelly. I thought, I prayed he would piss and leave. I watched his shadow
and noticed movement. Back and forth movement I knew all too well. He was
masturbating! Okay, now I'm still scared, but not
fear-for-my-life-terrified like I was a moment ago. Hormones and the
possibility of sex tend to conquer fear. I heard him moan as I watched his
shadow-hand jerking his dick. I got brave and leaned back, pulled up my
shirt, and struck a familiar pose when I noticed a bright spot in the
partition. It was a little peephole! I put my eye to it and OH MY GAWD! I
saw him stroking his cock! He used his left hand, giving me a full view for
about a minute, I think. He stopped and turned directly toward the hole. He
knew I was watching him, must have been waiting to see my eye through the
hole. He gave it a couple more strokes, continuing his show for me. His
dick glistened, his head all wet as a large drop of clear fluid oozed from
his tip and stretched like hot mozzarella as it fell to the floor, but it
didn't look like sperm. He turned and walked toward the edge of the
partition; he was coming to see me again. I was still scared, but not that
he would hurt me. I bravely straightened up to show off all I had as he
came around the partition.

I stared at his exposed crotch as he walked right up to me, hard dick now
in his right hand, and stopped with it maybe a foot from my face. His
circumcised dick wasn't as big as the one in the magazine, but it was way
bigger than mine or that of the library boy. I could smell it, a unique
smell that was not unpleasant, just different, and it made my mouth
water. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I started to reach up and touch it
but I didn't know if it was okay. I looked up to ask, and FUCK! It was
Brother Frandsen from one of the Westminster wards! FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck! I
jumped up with my pants and undies in my hands, yanking them up as fast as
I could. FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck! I must have scared him as he was gone in an
instant; I didn't even notice him leave. I was singularly focused on
getting the hell out of there. I buttoned only the top button. Grabbed my
bike. Out the door. I ran and hopped on it like a cowboy on a horse in an
old western and pedaled as hard as I could, not once looking back until I
was out of the park and into the adjacent oil fields where I hid for
hours. I cried uncontrollably; I pounded my fists into the ground; I
screamed at the top of my lungs; and I cried some more. I was terrified,
more terrified than when I thought I was going to die. My world had come to
an end, for surely he would tell someone and my parents would find out
their son was a fag. Everyone would know. I thought about running away; I
thought about suicide; I thought the worst.

Why the fuck was a Mormon family man jacking off in front of a boy in a
public restroom anyway?

********************

That's enough. I'm gonna stop this one right here. This one was hard for me
to relive, and I'm teary-eyed as I finish. I think it got a little long as
I was putting off getting to the anticlimactic, no climax climax (that
really does make sense.)

Thanks for reading! I will pick up right where this left off. I know I said
so last chapter, but this really should be the last of the coming of age
wonders and emotional turmoil David experiences -- for a while, at least.

In the next two chapters, David will get his knob polished, I promise. He
must, for I've already written the chapters.

As always, I love hearing from you!

David, aka Lovebug