Date: Wed, 02 Jul 2008 00:13:45 +0100 From: mv_getaway@hush.com Subject: Encounter with Keith -- Pre-pubescent But Legal If you don't like stories that involve paedophillia, or if you are too young or it is illegal for you to read this, then you should really exit now. If you are reading this in order to become outraged or indignant, then please read the whole thing and send me a flame email telling me how wrong you think it is - I like a good laugh. Everything described is probably fiction, similarities with real people or places is sheer good luck. Encounter with Keith -- Pre-pubescent but legal =============================================== Chapter 1 The rain was tipping down in buckets as I negotiated the flyover just before the turnoff to the marina. It was late afternoon, but the thick clouds had brought a depressing gloom that meant that everyone had their headlights on despite the relatively early hour. My windscreen wipers were set to "fast" and were making a rhythmic "thump, thumpa, thump" as I slowed for the turning. Occasionally the sky illuminated with a flash of lightning, followed very soon after by the sharp-sounding clap of thunder that occurs only when the storm is very close. "What a day to be doing boat repairs," I thought to myself as I slipped the gearlever down to second, approaching the roundabout that marked the entrance to the marina complex. There was a small motorcycle coming around the roundabout with no lights followed by a car, neither were indicating that they would be turning off so I stopped to wait for them to go past. Suddenly the car accelerated and shot past the motorcyclist, turning off the roundabout and cutting in front of him. I could see the hapless motorcyclist had lost control, the rear wheel was sliding sideways on the waterlogged tarmac and the machine was heading directly toward the front wheel arch of my car. I started to engage reverse gear, checking quickly in the rearview as to whether I had a clear space to get out of the way of the motorcycle. Before I could act, the motorcyclist must have decided that a collision was inevitable, and had dropped the bike on its side. Machine and rider were now separated, both sliding toward me, but fortunately at a fairly slow speed. I managed to engage reverse gear and get the car backed up a few meters, and at the same time I switched on my hazard flashers. Bike and rider were now stationary, lying in the road on the roundabout. I got out of the car and rushed up to the motorcyclist, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that he was shakily starting to get to his feet. "Are you OK?" I said as I approached him. "Mmmm," was the only reply. I took him gently by his upper arm and led him to the side of my car. He was walking OK and did not seem too distressed, so I figured he was not seriously injured as I got him seated on the passenger seat. The next priority was to ensure that his motorcycle didn't cause another accident when the next car came around the roundabout. "Sit in there for a sec while I get your bike out of the road," I instructed. I lifted the small motorcycle easily onto its wheels and walked it off the road and put it on its stand. One of its mirrors was broken I noticed, and a front indicator smashed, but I couldn't see any major damage in the dark. I got back into my car and drove it a short distance off the road so that I could assess the damage to my passenger. Turning on the interior light, I saw a short figure sitting in my passenger seat dressed in a black full-face helmet, light woollen coat, jeans and trainers. His clothing was absolutely soaked, and he was shivering - whether from cold or the effect of his accident I didn't know. Probably a bit of both, I thought. "How's my bike?" he asked. That question gave me no end of relief! "Not too bad as far as I could see in the dark," I replied, but let's see how *you* are first! Let me get this helmet off and see what I've caught," I joked. I turned the car's heater control to full and then reached for the chinstrap of his helmet. His hands came up and he undid the strap himself, then pulled off the helmet. I took it from him and placed it on the back seat. I was looking into the angelic face of a boy who appeared to be 12 years old at the most - maybe younger. His face was pale, but he looked back at me with eyes that appeared alert. I looked over his clothing. There was a tear in the coat at the shoulder, and both knees of his jeans were torn. I correctly deduced that the former was the result of the accident, but not the latter. "Do you hurt anywhere?" I asked. "My shoulder is a bit sore, but I'm OK. Thanks for picking me up, I better be going," he started groping for the door handle. "Not so fast mister!" I said. "You're not going anywhere until we make sure you are definitely OK. And you're not riding your bike until we make sure that it is safe as well. How far do you have to go?" He informed me that he had been on his way to visit his Dad, giving the name of a town about 20 miles from where we were. "I'm surprised your Dad lets you ride a motorbike when you don't have a licence," I said. "I do have a licence," he protested, and pulled a wallet out of his pocket, extracting a familiar laminated card with a photograph and a red "L" denoting that he was a learner driver, entitled to ride small motorcycles solo. I looked at the photograph on the licence carefully, and saw that it was indeed the youngster sitting next to me, and not a photo of an older brother or friend as I thought it probably would be. "You mean you're 16 years old?" I asked, completely surprised. He smiled and said, "16 years and 3 months. Nobody believes I'm 16 unless I prove it. My Dad says I'm a late developer like he was. My Dad is 45 but everyone thinks he looks 30," he announced with what I detected as pride in his voice. "OK, here's what we'll do," I announced. "You go to your bike and see if it's reasonably OK. If it's OK, follow me to the underground carpark a short way ahead and we'll take a better look at your bike under the lights there to make sure it's safe. "OK - look, thanks a lot, but the accident wasn't your fault - you don't have to go to any trouble sir." "I'm 'Jack', not 'sir'," I replied, "and it is no trouble for me whatsoever. But if you left without checking your bike properly, then you *would* be trouble for me, because I'd be worrying all night!" He grinned at me and said, "Thanks a lot, Jack - and I'm Keith by the way." "OK, let's go Keith." Keith grabbed his helmet, got out of the car and walked through the still torrential rain to his bike while I watched. He was certainly a cutie! I couldn't see much of his physique through the jacket and loose jeans, but he was under 5' tall, he had a really gorgeous round face and medium length light brown hair, and blue-green eyes. On a couple of occasions I had seen the beginnings of a really cheeky-looking smile starting at the corners of his mouth. I'd realised for a long time that I was attracted to pre-pubescent boys, but apart from a few experiences when I was a youngster myself, had resigned myself to a life of celibacy. "Look but don't touch," was my motto - although in today's climate of paedo-hysteria even looking was dangerous, and I usually steered clear of even doing that in case someone noticed me looking and kicked up a fuss. I suddenly realised that the boy I was watching trying to start his motorcycle was at the legal age of consent! Not that I was likely to be able to do anything about it. I would never do anything the boy didn't want, and with me being as old as his dad, the boy would certainly not want to do anything sexual with me. Besides, I expect that although he is short and has a young-looking face, he is probably fully developed and so I'd be disappointed as soon as he took his coat off. Still, it was nice to know that if the chance were to arise I wouldn't have to worry that I was breaking the law. I decided at that moment to try to prolong the chance meeting as much as I could, and see where I might be able to lead it ... ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 2 The motorcycle roared into life after a few attempts, and Keith pulled in behind my car. I saw that it had no lights, and recalled that it was unlit at the time of the accident as well. I decided that it would be safe enough for the short distance to the carpark, because even though the sky was very dark the road to the carpark was well lit once we got across the roundabout. At the carpark entrance I used my boat owner's card to operate the automatic barrier, and drove in. The barrier started coming down after I passed, and I realised that I had forgotten that it would do that. Fortunately Keith saw what was happening, and by ducking and gunning his engine was able to slip underneath before it hit him! I drove down the ramp to the underground parking with Keith in tow, and parked in a space next to the motorcycle area. Keith pulled alongside and shut down his machine. The strip lights of the carpark were harsh but bright, and I got out of the car and we both looked the bike over. As I had originally seen, the bike needed a new mirror and indicator, but apart from a bit of road rash looked otherwise OK. I looked at the wheels and suspension carefully, but they appeared undamaged, as was the petrol piping and exhaust pipe. "Well, it seems you were lucky," I said, "Your bike's fine except for the mirror and indicator which will not cost you a heck of a lot to fix. But I noticed that you had no headlight." "My headlight blew yesterday," Keith said, "But it is OK so long as I only drive during the day." "It might be officially daytime, " I said, "But with this rain and clouds it is too dark to ride without lights all the way to your Dad's place. Apart from the risk of another accident, there's a lot of police in this area and if they pull you over you'll get a fine and maybe even lose your licence." "The police can't do nuffin' if it's not lighting-up time," asserted Keith. "Oh yes they can, " I informed him. "In any case, it will be official lighting-up time in about half an hour, and you aren't going to make it to your Dad's in that time. It's not worth the risk." I noticed that Keith was shivering, and realised that standing in a sodden woollen coat in typical English March weather was not the most comfortable position to be in. "I'll tell you what, Keith," I said, "I'll drive you to your Dad's and you can pick the bike up tomorrow. It will be safe here, and tomorrow's Saturday so I don't expect you have to be anywhere tomorrow." "Do you really not mind, Jack?" Keith said, "That would be really great -- thanks." "It's no problem at all. I'm staying on my boat tonight and don't have anything else planned." I hesitated a bit, and then decided to go for it -- I'd kick myself if I let this opportunity go! So I adopted a matter-of-fact voice and said, "But you're looking like a block of ice, let's pop to my boat and get you warmed up and dry first. You can call your Dad from the boat if he's likely to be worried that you're late. That means that you won't make a puddle in my car, and can also do me a favour by helping me carry some stuff to the boat." I hoped the last would persuade him that he had an obligation to do as I asked even if he was not keen on the idea. Whatever the reason, he seemed to jump at the chance! "Wow, you have a boat!" Keith stated. "That's really cool. How big?" "It's just over 45 feet," I replied, "It's a motorboat - not too big, but comfortable, and it's got all mod-cons." "Cool," said Keith, "What do you want me to carry?" I opened the boot of the car and divided up the stuff I had brought for the boat. A case of beer, some food, a bag of clothing and a toolbox. It was just a bit more than could be carried by one person, and so I was genuinely pleased that Keith would be saving me a trip. The walk to the boat from the carpark takes about 10 minutes, so without Keith it would have meant 3 trips, or 30 minutes of walking. Not a big deal, but not something that I enjoy doing in the pouring rain. We walked quickly from the carpark along the jetties to my 45' fibreglass motorboat, "Getaway". After suitable warnings to Keith about basic safety precautions, we got aboard. The rain had not let up at all, I had forgotten to bring a mac, and so we were both soaked by the time we entered the saloon cabin. I started taking off my jacket and told Keith to do the same so as not to get too much water on the carpet and fittings. Keith did as he was told, and I fired up the very powerful gas heater, which I knew would get the whole cabin toasty warm in no time. I then remarked that I was still dripping all over the place, and quickly stripped off all my clothes down to my underclothes. After a brief hesitation, Keith did what I had hoped he would do and copied me. He was soon, like me, standing in only his boxers. I picked up all our clothes and shoes together and threw them through the companionway to the galley below, which had a floor more suitable to take wet clothing than the saloon's thick carpet. "I'll hang those up to dry in a sec, "I said, "Meanwhile here's a towel," and reached into a locker. "This is great," said Keith looking around in wide-eyed amazement. The saloon was a big cabin for a 45 footer, and was well set out with a comfortable couch, large screen flat TV on one bulkhead, a table and a small wet bar with fixed stools. A large toughened glass sliding door that we had entered through took up one side of the cabin and looked out over the stern of the boat. While Keith was occupied checking out the cabin, I was occupied checking out Keith! The rest of his near-naked body did not change the illusion that he was only 11 or 12 years old. I had noted approvingly his smooth torso, and caught a glimpse under an armpit as he was drying his hair that verified that it was devoid of hair. He had a well-defined chest with small but enticingly dark nipples, which narrowed to a lovely abdomen containing a delightful "innie" belly button. His arms and legs were well developed without being fat or overly muscled. After ensuring that he was looking away from me, my eyes were then drawn to his boxers, which were the small and close-fitting style, and enabled me to see that he had a really sexy bubble of a bum, and just the slightest hint of a bulge at the front told me that if puberty had begun at all, it had not advanced a great deal. I found myself wondering whether he had any wisps of dark hairs down there yet, and my dick gave a sudden jump, reminding me that I had better keep my thoughts away from that area while not wearing clothing that doesn't conceal a lot! ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 3 "Right," I announced, "Next on the agenda is to give your Dad a call and fill him in on the situation. You can tell him you'll be there in about an hour or hour and a half -- that will give the clothes time to dry a bit in front of the fire. I'll hang them up while you are doing that, get the food put in the freezer and dig out some foul weather clothes so we don't get too wet on the way back to the car." I then pointed to the telephone that was on the table, which connected to a landline on the jetty via an umbilical. I hated the thought of him leaving after having been presented with such an opportunity, but the practicalities of the situation meant that nothing could come of it except in my fantasies later. The phrase, "Ships that pass in the night," came to mind. While Keith was dialling, I carried the food to the small freezer in the galley, picked up the clothes and squeezed the surface water out over the galley sink. I then pulled out a folding clothes-horse from the sink locker which I set up in front of the gas fire after laying down a couple of towels to catch the drips. All that time Keith had sat with the phone to his ear not speaking. "Shit!" he suddenly exclaimed, replacing the receiver, "Dad's not answering." I then saw him go red as he realised that he had just shouted a swear word in front of me. I decided that the atmosphere should get a bit more relaxed. "Oi you," I said sternly, "I'll have no fucking swearing on this boat!" Keith's face became anxious until he saw the mischievous smile on my face, and then his face lit up with a delightful cheeky grin that I had seen a hint of earlier. "Why the fuck not?" he replied, slightly hesitantly as if he was not sure of the reception he would receive by carrying on the joke. "Because people who fucking swear are fucking cunts!" I said in an increasingly loud voice. That got Keith giggling, and I saw that his whole body-language had become more relaxed as he realised that I was not so much of an old fart after all. "But I like fucking cunts!" Keith continued the banter. "In that case," I said surprised he had found an unintended double meaning in what I had said, "They aren't fucking cunts, they're fucking arseholes!" "Fucking arseholes is even better!" Keith exclaimed, still giggling. Now *that* took me aback a bit! Did Keith realise what he had just implied? "OK, I give in -- fucking swearing is fucking al-fucking-right!" I exclaimed. Keith grinned and said, "Gotcha!" In a different tone, but still smiling, I said, "Back to business -- does your Dad have a mobile you could try?" "Yes," Keith replied, "But I left my mobile at home because it's got no credit and it's too expensive to call from a normal phone." I guessed that he had been forbidden from calling mobiles from his house phone -- which I knew was probably a good rule to have with a teenager in the house. "It's OK in a situation like this," I told him. "You go ahead and call your dad's mobile -- and you should have brought your phone anyway in case your dad needed to call you! Duh!" Shortly afterwards Keith started to talk into the phone and I guessed he had got through to his dad. There followed a bit of anxious conversation about his accident, and I heard Keith briefly describe where he was (though without mentioning that he was sat with a near-naked man in only his boxers!) A bit later Keith held up the phone to me. "My dad would like to talk to you if that's OK," Keith asked. I took the phone, and said in my best business-like responsible voice, which after our recent exchange made Keith grin even more, "Hello, this is Jack, I assume you are Keith's father. How may I help you?" "Hello Jack," came a male voice from the telephone, "Yes I'm James, Keith's father. I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a situation. I've been in Birmingham on business this week, and was planning to be back in time for Keith, but first there was an hour traffic jam, and then I hit a patch of deep water that killed my engine. I'm in the car right now waiting for a tow truck, but there is going to be a long delay because so many people have broken down in this awful weather. There is just no way that I am likely to get home tonight, it's over 200 miles even if I get the car running. I wanted to call Keith but haven't been able to get through to his mobile. I'm really relieved that Keith is not stood outside my door, and I'd like to thank you so much for helping him -- it sounds like quite an eventful night!" "No problem James," I replied, "The twerp left his mobile at home apparently. I was expecting a really boring evening, so am pleased to have something to do. I can sympathise with you, it's no fun sat in a broken car for hours." I then thought about how to phrase the next part, "James, as you know I've only just met Keith and have no idea of his family circumstance, but I guess he doesn't normally live with you because he told me he was going to see his Dad rather than going home -- so I guess you'd like me to take him home, right?" "You are correct, Keith lives with his mother and stepfather, and we are divorced." James's voice then became despondent. "I guess he will have to go home now. This will really give his mother ammunition!" "James," I said, concerned, "Let me talk to Keith and I'll call you back in a few minutes OK?" After I'd hung up, I told Keith what his dad had said. "I don't want to pry into your private affairs," I said, "But your dad sounded quite worried. If you want to explain a bit more, maybe we can figure out a plan -- but if you don't want to that's OK, just tell me what you want to do now." Keith looked at me hard, obviously grappling with his inner thoughts, and then suddenly came to a decision. "My dad's gay," he blurted out suddenly, and then stopped and turned bright red. I forced myself to keep a poker-face. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that," stuttered the embarrassed Keith. "I'm gay as well," I stated as if making a casual remark about the weather, "So what?". Keith exhaled and a look of relief spread over his face. Then he let it all out. "My dad broke up with my Mum because she got a boyfriend. He's my step-dad now and I hate him," Keith stated as a simple matter of fact, without emotion. "I'm only allowed to visit my dad once a month and that sucks. My mum and step-dad are looking for excuses to stop me doing even that, especially after dad got a boyfriend. So if they find out he was not at home when I got there, they will say that Dad is irresponsible and can't look after me properly and so I can't stay with him any more. They are just looking for an excuse like this." "That's terrible!" I said. "But you are 16 so they can't stop you now". "They take my bike and playstation to punish me if I disobey them, and I can't live with Dad yet because he has to stay away lots of the time for his job. But I'll be leaving school soon, and then Dad says I can move and stay in his flat even when he is away." I then crossed my fingers behind my back as I said, "How about you stay on the boat tonight and your mum doesn't have to know anything about it. I'll take you to your Dad tomorrow. But that's only if your Dad agrees." Keith's eyes lit up, "Jack, that would be really great if I could, can I phone my dad again?" "Of course, " I replied, and a minute later Keith was excitedly telling his dad 'his' plan. As I knew he would, he soon held the phone for me to take. "Hi James," I said as soon as I had the phone to my ear, "I'm afraid Keith has told me a lot more about your situation that I think you would have wanted him to, but I can assure you that his judgement was sound and I'm fully on the side of you and Keith. I will also understand if you don't want Keith to stay alone with a strange man for a night, so the decision is up to you." "Keith's always been a good judge of character," said James, "From the sound of it he is not only agreeable but is really looking forward to sleeping with you, and it really does get me out of a hole. Thankyou again." I was taken aback by the use of the phrase, "sleeping with you," -- what exactly was he implying? I decided that it must have been meant innocently. "Then that's settled," I said, giving Keith the thumbs-up, at which his face lit up with a radiant grin, "You're going to be bushed tomorrow, James. If you like, you can come to the boat when you manage to get back tomorrow and have lunch with us to save you the hassle." "Well, I'll not be trying to rush back tonight now," he replied, "So I'll find a hotel and leave at a reasonable time in the morning. But your offer sound's good Jack, and I'd like to meet you to thank you in person. I'll give you a call when I know what time I'll be there." "That sound's like a plan," I said, "You have my number on your phone, so I'll be looking forward to your call tomorrow, and I'll give you directions to the boat when you call. I hope the tow truck arrives soon" So that was it! Alone for the whole night with an adorable, pre-pubescent teenager who was above the age of consent! I could not believe how it had turned out, and I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 4 I went over to Keith and gave him the high-five sign, and we touched hands. I then clamped what I hoped would be taken as a manly hand around his shoulder, and Keith winced in pain. "Whoops -- I forgot about your shoulder," I said, "Let's look." There was a respectable bruise developing, no doubt from the abrupt contact with the road, but it wasn't anything serious. "You won't die yet," I quipped. "Food now if you like," I said, "But grab me a beer from the 'fridge first as I won't be driving, and grab yourself one if you like them. Or I think there's Coke and Dr. Peppers. What do you fancy to eat -- full meal or snacks?" Keith went to the 'fridge and found two cans of lager. "I ate just before I left home, so don't worry about me yet." He handed me a can and popped his beer. "That's suits me," I replied, "I usually eat a lot later -- how about a sandwich now, and I'll make some proper food later? Ham OK?" "Sounds good," said Keith, so I went down to the galley to put a couple of sarnies together. When I climbed back up the short companionway to the saloon with a plate of ham sandwiches, I immediately saw that Keith had a towel around his waist. He must have seen me looking, because he said, "My boxers were soaked and getting uncomfortable. I hope you don't mind -- I hung them up with the rest of the clothes." "No, that's a good idea in fact -- but as we don't need the clothes to dry so fast now, I'll put them down below, because they are making the place like a sauna!" It was half true -- the water from the clothes in front of the fire was steaming up the place, which is not good for the fittings. But I also wanted to keep Keith unclothed for the evening if I could! I took the clothes horse below and put it in the forward cabin, and while there did the same as Keith and exchanged my boxers for a towel. Back in the saloon I flopped down on the couch and grabbed my beer and a sandwich. Keith sat down beside me and did the same. "Could you show me the rest of your boat please Jack?" he asked. "Of course," I replied. During the guided tour it soon became clear that Keith was definitely no younger than 16 -- and a mentally mature 16 at that. His conversation could easily have been from an 18 year old. He was interested as well, and had a wide general knowledge as I explained the various systems in the boat. I could tell he was genuinely interested from the very perceptive questions he asked. He wouldn't let me get away with glossing over anything, but insisted that I explain it fully. We must have spent an hour, and I felt as though I had given an instruction course in the engineering, piloting and navigation of the vessel! At one point, as Keith went ahead of me and climbed the few steps to the wheelhouse, his towel caught the door handle and slipped down the stairs. I grabbed it quickly, getting an eyeful of a tantalising naked backside. Keith seemed completely unfazed, and after I handed the towel back to him he held it by his side as he walked leisurely into the wheelhouse before absently wrapping it back around his waist, not at all anxious to cover up as I would have expected. We returned to the saloon and I grabbed another couple of beers from the fridge as we passed it, handing him one without a word. He stuck up his thumb in thanks as he accepted it. We had become more comfortable with each other during the "tour", and I felt that Keith was genuinely enjoying my company -- and I was definitely enjoying his! "I'd better not get you pissed," I remarked, noticing that he had downed about half the can in one go. "I'm not allowed to drink alcohol at home," Keith informed me, "But my dad always gives me some beers, and wine at dinner. He says that I need to find out my limit in safe company so I know how much makes me merry without being dangerous. Don't worry Jack, I won't throw up on your carpet!" "Your dad sounds a very sensible man," I remarked. "If you know your limit, just grab what ever you want to get happy and relax, and I'll do the same." We sat on the couch again, and I switched on the TV. I then grabbed the satellite dish remote and fired it up. Keith was instantly interested in the satellite remote, and wanted to know what it did. I explained that the ball-shaped gizmo above the fly bridge on the top of the boat was a gyroscopically controlled satellite dish that could stay pointed at a satellite even if the boat was rocking and rolling about. I'd just switched the system on, and it was locking onto the Sky satellites so we could watch TV. I handed him the Sky remote and asked him to choose a channel. Surprisingly he chose a National Geographic documentary, and we were soon engrossed. From time to time one of us would get up and grab a couple of beers, and I started to get a familiar buzz from the alcohol, and guessed Keith must be as well. The program finished and Keith and I started chatting about boating. The beer had worked its magic, and we were chatting as if we had known each other for years. Keith was not interested in talking about himself, but seemed mad keen on anything nautical. I described various types of sailing boats, and pointed out a gaff-rigged mast on a nearby boat that despite the dark could just be distinguished against the marina lights through the window to the side and just behind Keith. Having finished what I had been saying, I took a chance and dropped the hand I had been pointing with down onto Keith's shoulder, intending to pull it away at the slightest negative reaction. Keith immediately moved a few inches closer to me and rested his head lightly against my upper arm, so I left my arm loosely draped around his shoulders. We had stopped talking and I took a firmer grip, being careful to avoid his bruise. Keith allowed me to pull his body a bit closer, and then shifted along so his hip was touching mine. I shifted my leg a bit. It was longer than his leg and my outer thigh touched his knee. I had turned down the volume of the television and it droned on in the background unheeded. I checked the clock and was amazed that it was only 10 o'clock. "I'll grab another couple of bevies," said Keith, and to my disappointment stood up to go to the 'fridge. When he returned, he set the beers on the table in front of us, and instead of sitting apart again as I had thought he would do, sat down as close to me as he possibly could, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. To get his arm around he had to press his upper body tight against mine. I immediately responded the same way, and we sat there like players in a rugby scrum for a while, arms locked awkwardly around each other's shoulders. I thought I knew Keith wanted a cuddle, but was not certain enough to try to bring my other arm around to cuddle him. But this position was not really working and I needed an excuse to start again and reposition. "I need a pee, be right back," I said and stood up to go to the head. As I stood up, Keith grabbed the bottom of my towel with a giggle and it fell away. "You think I care?" I asked, and walked out the saloon to the forward head (toilet) completely naked. When I returned less than a minute later, Keith was standing up with my towel held above his head. "You're not getting it back," he taunted. With a quick movement I bent down and snatched his towel. "In that case I'll take this one!" I announced triumphantly. "You think I care?" Keith echoed my words and threw my towel across the floor. I threw his towel so it landed on top of mine. We stood there facing each other, both as naked as the day we were born. Keith was checking me out! And I was most definitely checking him out. He had a lovely flat tummy, all the way down to the barest hint of dark hairs starting in two small patches either side of his penis. His penis was uncut and about an inch and a half long -- certainly no more than two inches, including at least a quarter inch of foreskin. It was slender at the base, thickening slightly to outline a bulbous head under the foreskin. His balls hung below in their tiny sack, but I saw that they were not tight against him, but had dropped and hanging slightly below. Puberty had started for Keith, but only just. My penis is about average size, probably 4 and a half inches when flaccid, and just over an inch in diameter. But there was no chance whatsoever that it was going to stay flaccid much longer. The beers can only do so much in the face of such a beautiful body on the verge of puberty standing 2 feet in front of me. I briefly contemplated making a dash for a towel to hide what I knew was inevitably going to happen -- but thought, "What the heck -- he started it!" ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 5 Keith was staring at my dick and could not have failed to notice that it was growing slowly longer and thickening. Suddenly his penis gave a small twitch and any thoughts I had of stopping my own developing boner were history -- my penis gave a sudden big jerk and stood out at half mast, drooping from the horizontal. As soon as it did, Keith's penis stood straight up to attention, fully hard and with a visible movement to match his heartbeats -- which I noticed were fast. My dick insisted on playing copycat, and I've never known it jerk so hard as it pointed to the heavens in one movement, my foreskin no longer able to contain the purple head. Keith's penis had grown to about 2 and a half inches. It curved slightly upwards rather than being completely straight. It was still pretty slender and had not increased much in girth. The head was fully covered, but the foreskin no longer protruded much past the head, and I could probably have caught a glimpse of purple had I been able to look directly above it. Neither of us spoke, both of us were staring at the other. I had to do something, so I took a step toward the object of my desire. The next I knew, Keith had both arms wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my chest, my dick pushing into his stomach. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. But this was no good! The height difference meant that I could not cuddle him properly. I crouched slightly and pulled Keith's shoulder gently. Keith knew what I wanted, and we both collapsed onto the thick carpet. Now that we were horizontal I could adjust for the height difference, and pulled Keith up so we were lying face to face, his forehead was level with my lips. I hugged him and Keith hugged me, squeezing each other tight. Keith's erect penis now pressed against mine, and I slipped a hand down behind his bum, and pulled him into me harder. Keith got the message and grabbed my bum, imitating my movements. We started grinding ourselves together, and I felt Keith's tummy becoming slippery with my juices. Keith was also sliding easier lower down against the side of my penis, and I realised that he was also capable of generating a small amount of pre-cum. I moved one hand to his head, and pulled it to my lips, kissing his forehead. As if suddenly realising that we had mouths, Keith raised his head and I lowered mine, and he kissed me full on my lips. I opened my mouth slightly. It was obvious that Keith was not sure what to do, so I fleetingly flicked my tongue across his closed mouth. Keith immediately opened his lips, and we kissed with open mouths, although I did not try to invade with my tongue, sensing that this was all too new an experience for him. Then I felt a wetness sliding down my cheek. Keith was crying! I immediately berated myself. I had upset him, obviously pushing him to do something he did not want to do. But I was confused. He was still working his lips against mine, and his rock-hard little penis was grinding me -- I was no longer helping him to thrust his pelvis against me, he was doing that all by himself. But my concern dampened my lust, and I gently rolled apart and lay on my back. We were still touching, but no longer with lips or penis. Keith raised his knee and lay his leg over mine. "Have I done something wrong, Jack?" he asked with a trace of alarm in his voice. "You are crying my sweet," I said gently, "I think that it is me who has done something wrong. I don't want to do anything that makes you unhappy." "Oh Jack," he said, "I'm crying because I'm so happy, not because I'm sad. I've dreamed about being with a man like this, and I can't believe it's happening. Don't you want to do it any more?" "Keith, I want it more than anything. I've dreamed of this for longer than you have been alive." With that Keith rolled on top of me and his lips found mine again. I thrust my hips just once against him, and that's all it took to get him grinding in earnest against me. I placed one hand against the side of his head and the other cupped his buttock. His buttocks were heaving now as he humped, the sides pulling in and out. I pushed his head gently so our lips parted and his cheek pressed against my cheek. In that position I could look down and watch his firm round bum working as his buttocks squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed, the movement getting faster and frenzied. The sight was the most erotic thing I had ever seen in my life. I started moaning, "Oh, oh, oh." Keith took up the sound and began a counterpoint, "Ah, ah ah." Keith's hands were all over every part of my body he could reach, stroking and grabbing. I was rubbing Keith everywhere I could reach. Our animal sounds were getting louder and louder until we were practically shouting. Keith's voice was increasing in pitch, and I was now also humping in earnest. I knew I was not going to last much longer. "Keith, Keith -- I'm going to cum." I practically yelled. "Yes, so am I -- Jack I love you -- Ugggh!" I started spurting just as Keith's buttocks clenched hard under my hand and his cock seemed to grow as it bucked against me. His whole body became ridged as I felt his dick spasm once, twice, three and then four times. He gave another 4 or 5 weak thrusts and suddenly groaned loudly and his body went limp. I was spent as well, and was aware of a warm liquid running down my side. We both suddenly wrapped our arms around each other and squeezed tight. I have absolutely no idea whether Keith produced anything during his orgasm. If he did it was swamped by the biggest load I can ever recall making. "Fucking Hell, that was awesome," Keith exclaimed eventually, breaking the silence. "Christ," I said, "It was bloody 10 times better for me!" "Was not" said Keith, lifting his face above mine and giving that cheeky grin that melts my heart. "Yes it was," I said. "Was not." "Was" "Was not" "Say, aren't we a little late for pantomime season?" We both collapsed in a fit of giggles for the next five minutes. "I better get a paper towel and clean up this mess," I finally said, untwining and getting up. "I expect the carpet will need cleaning as well." "Oh, so now you're saying I'm a bloody nuisance are you?" In reply to that quip, I buried my lips onto Keith's, and he opened willingly as I slid my tongue into his silky mouth. ... To be continued Anyone think my story is any good? Constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters welcome. email me at mv_getaway@hush.com