Date: Mon, 31 Aug 2015 22:03:35 +0000
From: Bruce Demosthenes <sourceskid@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dominated by the boy next door 17

Try to give $1 per rope of cum you shoot reading my stories (any more ask
them to send the balance to me).  This is where you contribute:
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***

Pulling into my driveway, Peter turned off the car, got out and walked to
my front door, pointing my car keys over his shoulder and locking it
without looking back.  At the door he fished out his own keys from his
pocket and unlocked my front door.

I never turned on the alarm anymore because I never knew when Peter would
come by, but that morning I had turned it on as we would be gone for the
day together.  It began to beep as soon as he opened the door.

"Alarm code," Peter demanded.

I told him the four digit code and he turned off the alarm.  As the alarm
code was also my pin for my bank card, credit cards and computer, Peter now
had access to everything I owned.

After turning off the alarm Peter used one foot against the back of his
running shoes to push each one off without untying them.  As I sat on a
chair to undo my own shoes I saw Peter strip off his shirt which he dropped
right there at the entrance, then he undid his pants, pushed them down and
stepped out of them and pulled off each sock dropping them into the pile.

Clad only in his purple Diesel briefs I was rock hard in my pants at the
signed before he even made to the couch and plopped down, reaching for the
remote.

"What is for supper," he demanded.

I had bought all the ingredients to make Peter a special dinner the night
before.  But I only bought what was needed for that meal.  Aside from
staples in my cupboards, there wasn't much to make a proper meal.

"There is left over Mac-and-Cheese," I ventured.

"We had that last night," he said.

"Do you never eat leftovers," I asked, incredulously.

"Of course I do, but that is at home, here I expect to be pampered," he
said.  "I have a fag who can cook, why wouldn't I take advantage of that."

Even though he had called me a fag, I was thrilled that he said I could
cook.

"Anything you want in particular," I asked.

"Surprise me," he said.  "And bring me a beer."

I went to the kitchen, fetched him a beer, putting it in a glass, just not
a good Chrystal one as he clearly didn't care and had clearly stripped to
his briefs for the evening of TV watching not fine dining.

Then, as I contemplated what to make, I went to the door and picked up his
clothes.  I took them upstairs and hung them in my bedroom closet.  I knew
that was presumptuous, he had only said he 'might' sleep over, but leaving
them at the door in a pile or putting them in the coat closet seemed wrong
as this was my home and everything had a place.

But what if Peter took offence to my taking his clothes upstairs?

I needn't have worried; when I went back downstairs it was clear he was not
even paying attention to me and probably didn't care where I put his
clothes, he had, after all, dropped them on the floor and was comfortable
to be in just his briefs in my home.

Peter was selecting a pay per view movie, without asking my permission to
charge another movie.  I only noticed that because I never rent them, not
because I begrudged him the cost of the movie.  It was clear to both of us
I would do anything he wanted.

Before the movie started, still trying to figure out what to make for
dinner, I asked "do you have a favourite protein?"

"Protein," he asked back, taking a sip of his beer.

"Yea, when you plan a meal the chef usually chooses a protein, like meat or
fish or poultry, then a starch, like potatoes or rice, and then a
vegetable," I explained.

"I like seafood," he said.  "We used to spend summers at the ocean when I
was a kid."

Seafood wouldn't be fresh, being so far inland, but that gave me an idea
for a meal.

"Can you eat shellfish," I asked.

"Love it, especially scallops," he said.

Perfect, I could work with that.

"Can I have my car keys," I asked.

Peter fished them out of his pocket and tossed them towards me without
looking back, now caught up watching the beginning of his movie.

I would make him a scallop risotto.  While he probably wouldn't appreciate
how hard risotto was to make well, I knew and I wanted to make him
something special since he had complimented my cooking skills.  While wild
mushrooms which I used in my scallop risotto recipe didn't really count as
a vegetable I decided to just make the risotto and make a desert instead of
a salad which he had the night before.

There is a New Zealand chocolate ball called an Afghan Biscuits that are to
die for.  I hadn't ever seen Peter eat a chocolate bar but what kid didn't
like chocolate (damn, here I was thinking of this person, who had just used
his ginormous cock to violently rape my throat in a truck stop washroom an
hour earlier, as a kid).

As I drove to the store I made a check list in my mind.  I knew what I had
at home and I knew these two dishes by rote.  I just got what I needed for
tonight and headed home.

Entering the house Peter was still sitting in the exact spot in his purple
underwear as he had been when I left.  He was such a dreamy sight, the
golden blond curly hair, smooth slender body and over packed designer
briefs.  I got instantly hard again just looking at him.  He, on the other
hand, didn't take his eyes off his movie when he heard me return; he just
picked up his empty glass and waved it in the air so I knew he wanted
another beer glass.

Taking the groceries into the kitchen, I got him a beer from the fridge,
returned to the living room and poured it into his glass (staring at his
packed purple cotton clad crotch as I did which almost caused me to spill).

Returning to the kitchen I did prep for both dishes and then started on the
desert chocolate balls as they would need to cool down for the icing.

As I cooked I decided to join Peter and have a beer, even though it was
pedestrian for the meal I was making.  It just appealed to my sense of
homemaker, us both having a beer as I made him supper (I knew it was all in
my head, as we weren't even in the same room, but just as he vacillated
between 16 year old boy and SBDM dom, it seemed I kept switching from
obedient sub to hopeless romantic, even though he never gave me reason to
believe we were anything more than neighbours and a mouth he could use to
get off).

With the cookie balls in the oven for 15 minutes I began the risotto.  It
took about the same time to cook.  Serving up the Scallop with Wild
Mushroom Risotto and taking the chocolate balls out of the oven and into
the freeze for a quick cool, I took another beer to Peter along with his
risotto dish.

I thought about setting the table, given how nice a meal this was, but he
was enjoying his movie; and him being in just underwear made us sitting at
the dining room table seem weird.

I went back the kitchen and got my own beer and dinner and sat next to him.
Quietly we ate, him intent on his movie and me glancing at his ample
package stuffed into those small purple Diesel briefs (though less
obviously as the day before as I didn't distract him from his movie).

When we finished the risotto I took our plates to the kitchen, made the
icing sugar and dressed the chocolate balls.  I brought a tray of them to
the living room and put them on the table.

After a while Peter picked one up and absentmindedly took a bite.  They
must have been good because he then took his eyes off the movie and turned
to me and said "damn, I don't normally eat desert."

"Thanks," I said, trying to seem casual at what passed for a compliment
from this young man I was desperate to impress.

I left Peter to the rest of his movie and went into the kitchen to
clean-up.

Baking makes more of a mess than a main course so it was a while to get
things tidied up and the dishwasher loaded.  Heading back to the living
room I brought us both fresh beers, pouring his into his now empty glass.
He had eaten a few of the balls so he clearly liked them (which made me
happy).

It wasn't that long before the movie (which I knew nothing about since I
hadn't seen any of it, but was more than happy to pretend to watch just so
I could sit next to him on the couch with him in just his underwear).

As the credits ran I decided to bridge the subject from the night before.

"Are you going to sleep over," I asked.

Maybe it was the beer or the day but he shrugged and said "sure, why not.
You can edge me like last night."

I so wanted to do that, but my throat was so sore from the brutalizing he
had given it.

"Um, I can, er, try," I began apologetically, wondering how I would back
out without offending him.

"Yea, I know, your throat is sore," he said.  "But that was so worth it,
putting on a show for those queer tuckers."

I turned bright red at the reminder.

"But I said edge me," he continued.  "You can just use your mouth and we
will do it in your bed so I am not distracted by the TV."

I had been right to suspect he had been using the TV to keep his orgasm at
bay the day before!

"Thank you," I said, happy that my throat might have time to recover while
I still got to suck on his cock and this time in my bed with him spending
the night.  I was over the moon excited.

"Get me another beer," Peter said as he turned off the TV.  Returning with
his beer, I followed him up the stairs.

His ass in under the purple cotton looked so appetizing.  It was round and
pert, and moved with a bounce which came natural to his teenage gait.

In my bedroom he took down his briefs, freeing that mammoth cock which fell
straight down in front of him, and climbed naked into the bed.  I stripped
down to my boxers and joined him.

Pushing the sheets back to give me access to his big cock only on his side
of the bed (the right side which was normally mine but who was I to argue).
I rested my head on his stomach and began to lick and suck on just the head
as he hardened in response to my mouth and the touch of my hand at the base
of his shaft and on his balls.

I gently worked on his cock, slowly working down from the head to lick the
shaft before returning to sucking the head.

Before long Peter went from sipping his beer and quietly watching me work
his manhood with my mouth, to giving instructions.

"Suck on my balls," he said and I dutifully did as he stroked his own cock
and moaned saying "that is good, just like that."

He had me work on his balls for a long while, which was fine by me as they
were so nice and smooth and yet big enough for each one to fill my mouth.
I was also spurred on because it seemed to give him a lot of pleasure as he
moaned and stroked in response.

Then, at his instruction, I went back to sucking on the head as he
continued to stroke the shaft until he got himself close to cumming and
then told me to work again on his balls, this time not stroking as I did.

He was clearly edging and without distraction.  He only needed my mouth to
work on different parts of his cock and balls, which spared my raw sore
throat and was such a turn-on as I got to explore his cock and see it close
up with the bedroom lights on.

Twice he had me go downstairs and get him a beer while he went to the
washroom to pee.  When I returned I would have to start by getting him hard
again and then return to alternating between his cockhead and balls as he
stroked himself periodically and controlled his own edging.

This was a perfect Saturday evening, me in bed with this gorgeous boy
working his huge hard cock with my mouth.

But then his phone rang in his pants pocket in my closet.

"That is my phone," Peter said, recognizing the distinctive ring.

I jumped out of bed and fetched his phone from his pants pocket for him.

"Hello," he said, followed by a "hi mom."

I was standing next to my bed with a hard-on in my boxers, a bed where
Peter was naked and also hard, and he was talking to his mom!

My cock instantly deflated as Peter's did too (though it was visibly taking
him longer as he had a bigger cock).  As he talked to his mom he pulled the
sheets and comforter over his naked body.  I went into the bathroom to
hide.

Once I couldn't hear him anymore, and I knew he had stopped talking on the
phone, I came out hesitantly.

Was Peter out of here anymore or had he dressed and left?  It couldn't have
been pleasant for him as it was definitely traumatizing for me.

Peter was under the covers facing away from the centre of the bed.

As he heard me enter the bedroom he said "I need to go to sleep."

I totally understood.  I would have stayed hiding in my bathroom if I
hadn't been curious what were the consequences of that call and what his
mood might be.

"Can you get the lights," he said without looking back at me.

This wasn't good but at least he wasn't going next door to his place
(probably due to the beers he had drunk, he was fine with just rolling over
and going to sleep).

I turned off the lights, climbed into the bed and lay on my side facing
away from him and went to sleep.  I would deal with the fallout of this in
the morning and just pray the consequences would be temporary.

END OF CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

***