Date: Tue, 23 Nov 2010 15:40:01 -0800 From: Zack McNaught Subject: Fast Cars, part 1 The usual stuff: this is an erotic story involving a man and a boy. If, for reasons legal, political, ethical or social you should not be reading this story, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences of you doing so. If you read it anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Zack Mack (zackmcnaught@hotmail.com :: www.asstr.org/~zack/ :: @zackmcnaught) Fast Cars, part 1 (M/b[11], mast) Some things are wonderfully clichéd. The underdogs winning the cup, the drunk turning around his life, and, most relevant here, the lure of fast cars for young boys. It is an attraction of which I have personally taken great advantage, though if I'm honest I can't lay claim to any great achievement in having done so. No, I was somewhat fortunate, to say the least. My first break was winning the car in the first place. An Impreza STi, a few years old but still a bit of a young boy's dream car. It was given away by a TV car show, who had picked it up as an example of the deals which could be made at car auctions. I, on my meagre earnings from a bit of website work here and there, had to scrimp and save just to keep the thing running, but by God I loved how it made me feel. Clearing out the garage of my little house to accommodate it was a labour of love, and one in which I was more than happy to partake. Daniel was my neighbour Kate's son, a slightly surly, unfriendly chap of ten or eleven, I wasn't quite sure which. I have to admit that I rather had the hots for him, in a creepy pervert next door sort of way. Their bathroom window faced my house and through the frosted glass I had many a time watched the naked boy wandering about, though with such a barrier between us he was little more than a pink blob. But simply knowing that he was in there naked was enough to get me to the point of no return far more often than was healthy. The Impreza was already my favourite possession before David's little adventures with me, but when it offered me the chance to get the boy alone it acquired a sort of mythical status, a powerful dragon capable of granting wishes. First, though, there is the small matter of how he came to be in my car in the first place. Kate had always seemed to be a disaster-prone young lady. She was the sort of girl who, had I been attracted to women and not young boys, I might well have tried to date. Whether she found me attractive is entirely unknown, though I'm not exactly ugly or out of shape. Certainly she felt no compunction about asking me to help her, a young, single mum, whenever things went wrong with their house, which seemed to be about once a week. Ever since I fixed a water pipe for her one day I've apparently been capable of any DIY task, big or small. I didn't mind being asked, to be fair, as it served the dual purpose of inflating my ego and allowing me to spend time in their house, around the boy. My work even led to my greatest ever bit of perving: stealing a pair of Daniel's dirty pants from the laundry basket. I was barely through the door to my own place by the time I was gripping my dripping manhood in one hand whilst holding the pants to my nose in the other. But I digress. My intention was to relate the means by which Daniel came to be in the Impreza with me once a week. The first instance was about the time that autumn started in earnest, about mid-October. All the leave were yellow, and most of them were falling, and the nighttime temperatures had dropped below freezing for the first time since the onset of summer. I was out in the garage cleaning the salt from the side of the car (nasty stuff, will rot even the best sealed bodywork) when I heard the unmistakable sound of Kate's swearing coming from next door, a sure sign that something else had gone wrong. I wandered out into the dark, cold night to see if it was anything I could help with. "The fucking car's gone, hasn't it?" she exclaimed as I approached, not even waiting for the question. "What sort of gone?" I asked. "This sort of gone!" She lowered herself half into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine briefly lurched into life, but died straight away. She tried it again and exactly the same thing happened. "It's fine when it's warm, but I can't get it warm," she said as she rejoined me. "Sounds like the automatic choke. I'll get Darren to have a look if you like." Darren was a mate of mine from the Impreza owners' club, one of the few social activities I joined in with. He was a whiz with the electrical side of modern motors, and had a laptop with any number of manufacturers' engine management programs on, not all entirely legally. "Thanks, Zack, that would be amazing. But I still have to get Dan to football practise." I knew what she was angling for, and she knew I would offer. "Hang on a moment, I'll just get it out of the garage," I said, and Kate grinned her thanks. Five minutes later, Kate, Daniel and I were heading off down the icy, dark roads to the out-of-the-way training ground Daniel was going to be running around that night. Kate told me I should go home, and that she and Daniel would get a lift home some other way, but I honestly didn't have a better plan for the evening than to watch twenty or so young boys running around in their shorts, and so I stayed. I tried once disappearing off to the gents in the main building of the sports complex to try catching a peek of one of the lads, but my luck was out, and none of them came in while I was in there. With a very grateful Kate and Daniel delivered home, I went to my special watching place and spewed a load into some tissues whilst I watched the blurred form of the young boy having his post-practice shower. A week later and Kate's car had long since been fixed, the CPU reprogrammed to take account of some gremlin or other. Yet here I was driving Daniel to practice again, this time without his mother along for the ride. I pinched myself a couple of times, just to make sure this wasn't a dream, but it appeared to be genuine. Daniel had turned up at my door earlier that afternoon, a sheepish look on his face, and asked if there was any chance that I could drive him to football again that week, since the other boys had been so impressed with my car. Well, even had I not lusted after the boy I would have said yes, because he knew by praising my car that I couldn't refuse. I didn't have to stick around for the hour long session – it was only a ten minute drive home – but it seemed a waste not to stay there and watch, and I got chatting to a few of the mums and dads who were there. Several of them assumed I was Kate's boyfriend, and when I tried to dissuade them they thought I was being coy. Oh well, it was a good cover, so I didn't try too hard. Daniel was excited and chatty at the end of practice, and as we drove home I stole glimpses of his legs in the light of the streetlamps which flashed overhead. It took all the restraint I possessed to not reach out and touch one of those thighs, and I didn't even make it to watch him shower before I spent myself on the carpet. It was on the fourth or fifth time that I took Daniel to football that things took an unexpected turn. We'd barely begun the journey home when Daniel piped up. "I'm not going to let you touch me just because you have a nice car, you know." For a moment I sat there flabbergasted. Where the fuck had that come from? "Uh, sorry?" I replied. "You know, play with my willy and stuff. The other boys said you were giving me a lift so you could touch my willy." "Oh, right. No, I was just trying to help. You came and asked me to give you a lift because of the car, remember?" He nodded, but didn't reply, and it went no further. The subject came up again the next week, though, almost as soon as we started for home. "I'm still not going to let you touch my willy, you know. All the boys still think that's what you want to do." I was a little taken aback by his frankness, and more than a little worried about what was behind it. I didn't need any scandals started. I'd always been careful to cover my tracks, or rather not make any tracks which needed covering. I tried to divert him, but there was little hope; he seemed fixated. "Why do men want to touch boys' willies anyway?" he asked. "Well, because they like the way it makes them feel." Confusion clouded his face. "What, they like how it makes the boy feel? How do they know?" "No, that's not quite what I meant, although some men do it because the boy likes it. But the man likes the feeling, too." "I don't get it." "Well, look at it this way: have you ever seen a naked picture of a woman?" He nodded enthusiastically. Clearly this was a source of some pride for him. "What did you feel? Did you feel excited?" He shrugged. "S'pose so." "Then that's why some men like to look at boys, and touch them, because they prefer them to naked women." "Are you like that?" Should've seen it coming, I know. Damn. I didn't want to lie to him, but I didn't have to tell the whole truth either. "What do you think? Have I ever tried to touch you?" He thought about it for a moment. "No, s'pose not." "Ok, then," I said, as if everything were explained. It seemed to stem his curiosity, for a while at least. "You know," he said just as we turned into his driveway, "I wouldn't mind if you were like that. But you're not, obviously." And he slammed the door in my utterly incredulous face. From that moment on, something snapped in me. Gone was the caution, the reserve, the common sense. I had always made it a policy not to make trouble close to home, but that simply wasn't going to work with Daniel, not now. I knew I had to have him. The sap had risen in my blood and all reason flew from my mind. I wasn't sure what my plan was, or even that I had one, but I was quite prepared to take advantage of any opportunities which might come my way. That it happened the next week would hardly have surprised me, had I thought about it to any extent. Daniel was more ready for it than I was, judging by his words, and in truth had he not taken the lead I may well have abandoned my plans. But he did make the first move, and it did lead to wonderful things. He started it on the way to football, and in hindsight that was clearly part of the bigger plan, a plan to make me pay for the pleasure of touching him. He was mercenary about it, because he knew I would give him anything he wanted. "You know that car park in the park we go past?" he asked. I nodded my reply. "That's where Matt's older brother goes with his girlfriend. He says they have sex there and everything." I wasn't quite sure what this had to do with anything, and said so. "Just saying," was his response. He said nothing more until we were on the way back from his training session. "Look, there's the park again." This really was getting a little odd. So much so that I decided to take a chance. "Do you want to go in there?" He just shrugged, which, with little else to go on, I took to be him assenting. Gravel crunched beneath the tyres of the car as we pulled up at the furthest end of the car park, in the shadows beneath one of the trees which defined its extent. "So, what do we do now?" I asked him, not really knowing what to expect by way of an answer. "I can't keep you out for long, your mum will notice." He shook his head though. "Not tonight. She's out tonight. I'll be on my own when I get home, for a few hours. She's gone to some new art class or something." I looked across at him, having heard his voice cracking a little, and noticed the hand nearest me was shaking. In fact, his whole body was shaking, and I realised it must have been through fear, or excitement, or more probably a bit of both. "Oh, right," I responded lamely. "So, what should we do." He didn't look at me as we spoke. "Are the boys right? Do you want to touch my willy?" "Yeah, I suppose I do." "If I let you, will you take me to football every week?" "Yeah, of course." "And into town sometimes, in the car?" "Yeah, sure." "Right." He sat very still for a moment, and then, as if determined to act before he could relent, reached up and yanked his football shorts and boxers down below his knees and lifted his t-shirt out of the way. A lot of things went through my mind in those first few heartbeats. He was hard, uncut, with a long foreskin. Barely into puberty, if at all, probably about four inches long, but quite thin. It stuck up so straight there was a crease where it met his abdomen, and if there were any hairs I couldn't see them. Shaking furiously myself, I reached over and let my fingers grasp his shaft, feeling the silky smooth heat of it for the first time. At that point I suffered a painful orgasm, dribbling into my pants and running down across my balls. But there was no way I was going to stop fondling him if I didn't have to, so my hand stayed in place, gently caressing the skin of his dick. I rolled back the skin just to see if I could, and was rewarded with a gasp from Daniel, which sounded like surprised pleasure. As the skin flashed back and forth over the head he couldn't stop a tiny little moan escaping through his tightly closed lips. I felt him for about thirty seconds, and then he abruptly pushed my hand away and reached down for his pants, indicating that the game was over. We didn't speak for the rest of the journey, but he at least gave me a weak smile as he left the car. I returned to my house elated, and spent. End of part 1 Zack Mack (zackmcnaught@hotmail.com :: www.asstr.org/~zack/ :: @zackmcnaught)