Date: Thu, 21 Feb 2008 09:00:25 -0500
From: carl_mason@verizon.net
Subject: DENNY LAWRENCE - 4

DENNY LAWRENCE - 4


Copyright 2008 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Denny Lawrence" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to
the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 4

(Revisiting Chapter 3)

Pat was still never quite sure how the photographer got the teen to pose in
the nude, fully erect and dripping precum, but the picture clearly proved
he did.  In any case, Denny came home with a smirk on his face and $100.00
in his pocket.  Whenever he was questioned about that shoot, he would
always grin and say, "W-e-l-l, I gave it everything I had!"

(Continuing Our Story - Necessary Questions)

Clad only in his forest green cargo shorts, Denny lay sprawled out on the
couch while Pat Mahan sat next to him in his chair.  Languidly, he drawled,
"I just don't see how that model shoot contributed to anything the judge
had in mind when he put my fate in your hands."  Pat sat up straight,
responding with several quick questions fired at the teen as from a machine
gun: "Are you the same uptight, nervous kid that sat in that courtroom?
When you're caught in a bind, are you honest and do you stick with things
or do you just run?  Are you strictly focused on your own needs or is the
social welfare of some concern?  Have you shown some toughness and some
bravery or do you still slink around as if you have no spine?  Do you give
a job everything you have or do you give as little as you can to anyone
beyond yourself?  Come on, Denny, be fair!  Sure, more than one indicator
of progress or growth is always needed, but can't you see that it's far
more than your muscles that are developing?"  The teen grimaced and let his
head fall back on the pillow.  He muttered, "You're awful."  Then he reared
up, grinned, and stuck his tongue out at the good doctor!  Teenagers...

(The Grand Banks)

The teenager wasn't home long, for his next assignment put him aboard a
42-foot fishing boat that was off for fishing on the Grand Banks.  Denny
said that all he could think about during a storm that lasted over a day
was the film, "The Perfect Storm".  For all that, there was a severe blow
that sent waves crashing over the boat and pounded the men who were
necessarily topside. Once home, he told of an area the size of Ireland
commonly covered in thick fog, an area subject to rough weather as the
Labrador Current and the Gulf Stream met.  It was also an area where you
had to look out for both the occasional iceberg and the occasional steamer
in the nearby transatlantic lanes.

Denny signed on as a deckhand which, it appeared, was somewhat lower in
status than the ship's cat.  Consequently, he did a little of this and a
little of that, strictly at the pleasure of the Captain and the Mate.  When
the "longlines" were retrieved, however - lines baited with hundreds of
hooks that stretched over dozens of miles - his duties intensified.  After
the fish had been removed from the hook and, if long enough, dispatched and
their guts and heads removed, he was one of the crew who had to manhandle
the great fish into the ice holds below.  (Beyond remembering the gore, the
rolling boat, and the cold fog, he did say he would long wonder if his
biceps and lower back would ever be the same!)  In truth, he did notice
that his physical strength was increasing - and that he was actually
enjoying some aspects of the more physically demanding assignments.

Given the reduced fish populations that came with widespread overfishing in
the 1990s, it was a long voyage, a voyage that pushed as far east as the
Flemish Cap.  For Denny, the piece de resistance came when the Captain
allowed him to assemble heavy handheld gear and cast the line.  He hooked a
275 lb. swordfish which, after a two-hour battle, was brought aboard!  It
was nowhere near the record, of course, but he was highly praised, and it
did do great things for his self-esteem.

(Mountain Cabin)

Meeting the boat in Portland, Maine, Pat was forced to tell the young man
that he next assignment had to be delayed.  Hence, he wondered, if Denny
might enjoy a few days at his family's cabin in far northern New Hampshire.
"Anything," Denny snickered, as long as it isn't on the water!"  Following
some good food and a restful night, they garaged Pat's car at the Portland
airport.  A small plane had been hired to take them to the wilds of
northern New England along the Canadian border.

Denny wasn't sure which was bumpier, the plane trip over the mountains or a
rather wild ride on dirt roads in a rented 4x4.  After miles of driving and
failing to see another human being, they finally made their way into Pat's
little valley.  Surrounded by mountains, heavily forested, and including a
small lake and a beautiful cabin, the property had been in his family since
the 1890s.

As the powerful teen unfolded himself from the vehicle, he gave a mammoth
yawn and stretched vigorously.  "Fantastic place, Pat!" he huffed.  "Just
wait until you see all of it," his mentor responded merrily.  "Come on,
beast, give me a hand getting all of this crap into the cabin.  I'm hungry!
How bout you?"  "I could eat a bear!" the teen replied - "and seeing this
country, one may be on the menu yet."  Laughing and bantering, the two men
hauled what seemed to be a mountain of food and equipment into the cabin.

As the last of the food went into kitchen cabinets and the freezer in the
garage, Pat turned to putting a sturdy lunch together.  As he placed a
saucepan with some good- looking stew on the fire, Denny asked
mischievously, "Hey, boss, what am I supposed to wear up here?"  Turning
around and facing him, Pat play-growled, "You have to ask what my Personal
Assistant wears when on duty?"  Laughing like a loon, the boy returned to
the living room for his backpack and headed off down the hall towards the
bedrooms.

Pat was preparing greens at the work island towards the center of the
spacious kitchen when Denny silently stole up behind him.  Suddenly, the
older man found himself locked in powerful arms.  "When are you going to
admit that you miss me when I'm gone...and that you love me as much as I
love you?" a husky voice grated.  As Pat forced the lad to allow him to
turn around, he was met by lips that locked onto his and took his breath
away.  Holding at least 170 lbs of smooth, naked, teenage muscle, his arms
suddenly snapped tight around Denny, his cock thrusting as hard into the
lad's genitals as the boy's was thrusting into his.  Reaching down to cup
the teen's muscled buttocks, Pat's tongue accepted the invitation to nibble
and to explore.

"I've decided what I want for lunch," the youth panted.  "Come on, Pat!"
Moments later, they found themselves on Pat's bed, their sweaty bodies
twisting over and over, fighting for control.  In a smooth wrestling move,
the older man finally controlled the boy's wrists and held them hard
against the bed.  Slowly, his lips sought the youngster's nips, nibbling
lightly with his teeth, and then sucking vigorously.  As Denny gasped and
gradually stopped struggling, the lips roamed lower, spiraling the man's
tongue into his belly button, twirling down over his flat, muscled stomach,
seeking the proud shaft that, in truth, he DID want as badly as Denny
wanted his.

"Boss, take me!" the lad groaned.  "I want you so much."  Flipping the
muscular body one more time, Pat forced his tongue against the blond's
anus, nibbling and sucking insistently.  When it suddenly opened and
disclosed the pink walls that lay beyond, he slowly worked the tip of his
tongue into the opening, probing and tasting, and igniting every cell of
the lad's body.  "Pat...please!" the boy screamed.  One finger, two
fingers, three fingers, four, the lad was skillfully opened.  As rivers of
sweat rolled off both of the moaning, groaning figures, Denny surrendered
his virginity to the one person for whom he had been waiting all his life.

When the sun was at its zenith - after showers, lunch, and bringing some
order to the camp - the two men lay side-by-side on a gentle slope that
faced the small lake.  Denny suddenly lifted up, wrapped his arms around
his partner's calves, and choked, "I love you so, Pat.  I always wondered
if I'd be able to love - or if my parents had killed all that within me."
The other figure simply reached down, grasped the boy by his heavy upper
arms, and dragged him up to where they could kiss.  Kiss they did, and far
more, before the onset of cooler temperatures caused them to get up and
move back into the cabin.

It was an interesting evening.  Obviously feeling guilty - but not quite
ready to talk about it - the older man couldn't keep his hands off Denny,
nor the boy off him.  They talked more of their backgrounds, Denny saw some
vintage photos of the cabin and the valley, and they made love - several
times - on the rug in front of a cheery fire.  When it came time for bed,
the two washed each other in the shower.  Rather than staying down in "his
room," however, the muscular blond stood silently beside Pat's bed until he
lifted the corner of the top sheet and growled, "In!"

Hearing something "out of place", Pat looked out of his bedroom window not
too long after the sun was up.  (Although there were several storage areas
on the second floor, his was the only finished room.)  Denny stood in the
cleared area below, vigorously chopping wood for the stove and fireplace.
Mahan licked his lips at the play of early light on the teen's magnificent
body.  Knowing that he would never get back to sleep, he rose, visited the
facilities, and padded down the hall to the kitchen in order to turn the
coffee machine on manually.  Clothes could wait!  As he sensed that his
mentor was up and around, Denny stopped his chopping, gathered an armful of
wood, and came back into the kitchen.  The man intercepted him near the top
of the work island.  Not allowing him to put the load of wood down, Pat
started kissing his neck and upper shoulders, moaning as he licked at the
teen sweat.  Suddenly, he grasped the youngster around the waist, lifted
him in one fell swoop, and sat him down on the granite top of the food
island.  A lecherous grin on his face, he took the pieces of wood and, one
by one, dropped them on the kitchen floor.  Then he slowly pushed Denny's
back against the counter top and lifted his muscular legs until they almost
touched his chest.  The youth moaned deeply and writhed on the polished
stone surface as Pat began breakfasting.

The morning also saw tamer stuff.  To be sure, Denny wasn't at all sure
that would ever happen when they both had tumultuous orgasms after Pat had
ordered him to run down to the gate mailbox and pick up his copy of the
Boston GLOBE.  (In fact the play- snarling lad promised payback in the very
near future!)  Huffing and puffing he made it back in record time and was
treated to a very respectable mountain breakfast - after he had thoroughly
showered and spent a little more time on the living room rug!

They tossed a frisbee in the clearing; they waded in the creek that fed the
lake; when the sun had warmed the earth, they sprawled out and allowed it
to warm their nude bodies, as well as their souls.  When they weren't
napping, they talked seriously of what had driven Denny to the antisocial
behavior that had brought him to before the Court - and what more could be
done to counteract it.  Denny was endearingly honest: "It didn't help, sir,
when I discovered that I was gay four or five years ago, but that sure
wasn't the worst.  I so wanted my father to love me...and he didn't...in
any way.  I felt I was shit...absolutely worthless!  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!"
he snarled as the tears ran down his face.  "There was a hole in my life,"
he continued shakily, "a hole that I couldn't fill in any way.  Stealing
didn't help.  When my dad found out about it, he took care of things the
first time - mainly so the family wouldn't be embarrassed.  I was just an
extra fact that didn't fit his story line and got left over.  I tried to
hate him; I tried to make him love me; I tried to love others.  None of it
worked - partially because guys my own age are so damned boring...and the
gays among them are so superficial that they make me hurl!  I was so lonely
that I tried to commit suicide twice...unsuccessfully.  Big joke!  My dad
said that I was just trying to make it worse for him and my mother.  Can
you believe that?  If I hadn't had lacrosse and keeping my body in shape, I
would have gone out of my fuckin' mind!

"Before I met you, Pat, I had pretty well decided that my ability to love
another person had been ignored' out of me...that I was so damaged that had
I been a dog or cat, they would have euthanized me!  Do you have any idea,
sir, of the difference you have already made in my life?"

Pat turned on his side and, taking the youngster into his arms, gently
kissed his eyes and the tip of his nose.  "I must admit, Denny, that to
some extent I'm still in shock.  I - yes, that's right...I - decided, years
ago, that I was damaged goods' and shouldn't try to love one more person.
In my own way, I felt I had poisoned' everyone I touched.  My marriage was
a failure; my son died...in an accident.  And here I am, having fallen in
love with you...  God only knows what acting professionally' means in this
situation, but I'll tell you this.  I love you, and you can depend on me.
Is that enough for the present?"

With eyes that glowed with love, Denny looked deep into the man who was
holding him.  "Yeah, Pat.  Thanks," he replied simply and with complete
trust.

With dinner nearly ready, Pat suddenly shouted, "Damn!  We're out of
fiddleheads [the small coiled heads of the ostrich fern which in early
spring are viewed as a great delicacy in northern New England].  Big Guy,
will you go downstairs to the rack on the far side of the laundry room and
bring a jar of the home-canned stuff up with you?"

Three, four, and then five minutes passed and there was no sign of Denny.
Finally, Pat put his large spoon down on the stove, went to the top of the
basement stairs, and shouted to the lad, asking him if he'd lost his way.
A minute hadn't gone by before the big jock bounded up the wooden stairs.
Turning around from the stove to grab the jar, Pat was sure that he had a
guilty look on his face.  "Problems, Denny?"  "Nah...yeah...I guess.  Got
too curious and opened a door that I shouldn't have.  Sorry, Pat!"  "So you
saw my hobby room...my dungeon," Pat asked, the slightest of grins on his
lips.  "Dungeon?  No shit!  What's up?" the blond almost squeaked.  "After
supper," the good doctor murmured.

After supper, Pat took the boy downstairs and gave him the five-cent
introduction to bondage and sadomasochism.  "People gain sexual pleasure in
a thousand ways, Denny - and not one of them is wrong' if they consent, if
they are old enough to make such decisions, and if no one is hurt.  A
dungeon is one stage on which little dramas are played and people get off
by being bound and giving and/or receiving pain."  "You whip people?  You
chain them up?" the big teen asked, wide-eyed.  "Damn, Pat, I thought I was
really sick when I dreamt of some of this happening to me!"  "You weren't
sick, Denny, though it's probably best to terribly sure about who else is
involved before getting into a situation that could turn out badly.  Want a
little sample?"  "Oh, yeah!" the lad breathed.

Pat first lightly oiled his body and then fitted him with a slave collar,
wrist and ankle cuffs with large steel rings attached, a cock ring that
firmly bound his cock and scrotum, and handcuffs.  The function of each was
briefly explained.  Then, as the boy sat on a bench, he fitted the teen
with boots that had strange hooks on the heels.  Holding him upside down,
Pat eased the hooks onto a steel bar that extended horizontally from one
post to another.  Hanging upside down, a side of prime beef was ready for
processing!  Checking with the lad to ensure that he was reasonably
comfortable, Pat began lightly running his hands over the youngster's body.
Where before his equipment had merely been somewhat swollen, it now snapped
to full attention.  The Master continued by fastening clothespins to the
boy's ample scrotum, each of which elicited a deep grunt.  Rather than whip
the hanging subject, Pat took a long feather and set to work on Denny's
lower stomach, cock (from which precum was steadily dripping onto the floor
below), and balls.  Almost immediately, he exploded all over the place.
The wicked Dr.  Mahan had all he could do to force himself to stop his
demonstration.

When he had been lowered to the ground and divested of his "gear," Denny's
only comment was, "Wow!  I've never cum like that in my life.  Let's have
more of that!"  Pat simply responded, "See me when we get home, and we'll
take a look at what's possible."

As he puttered around at the kitchen sink, Pat looked out the window and
saw Denny watching the sunset over the lake.  Quietly, he went outside,
walked down to the water, and put his coat around the lad's shoulders.  It
was their last night at that beautiful place, at least for this time.
Despite the chilly air, they walked for a while along the lakeshore in the
moonlight.  It's doubtful that either felt the cold.


To Be Continued