Date: Mon, 23 Jan 2006 10:26:27 -0600
From: Justin Davis <justin0398@gmail.com>
Subject: Jason 01 by Justin Davis (M/t, mast, oral, anal)

This story contains graphic sexual scenes involving young males and
older males. If material of this nature offends you then you should
not read this story.  Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age
in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law.

This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.  Additionally, the actions of the characters in this
story are in no way intended to show approval of, or give sanction to,
their actions.

The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which
it has been posted, without the consent of the author.

Positive comments are always welcome and you may e-mail them to
Justin0398@gmail.com


Author's note: It was the end of a simpler time and the end for an era
when men and boys, who wore Speedo swimsuits and shorts that were
really short and tight, weren't frowned upon.  It was a time when
shorts were neither baggy, nor almost ankle length, but were creeping
in that direction steadily.  I'm sure some of you who will read this
story remember the end of that era with sadness.


Jason
By
Justin Davis

Chapter One


"He had long slender legs that propelled his firm bubble butt upward
toward the sky!"

I immediately thought of those words I had read in a beside porn book
years before the first time I saw Jason at the beach.  He hadn't
originally been playing volleyball with the group of teens.  So, as I
glanced up from my book and saw him for the first time it was a
pleasant surprise.

Jason was a month shy of fourteen, then, way tall for his age because
of his gazelle-like legs.  Already, the baby fat had melted away on
his copper-colored body that was deeply tanned from the summer sun.
His tummy was firm and flat, and one could see the traces of the
impending abdominal muscles that would soon give him a rippled tummy.

As he batted the volleyball and turned sideways, his long, almost
white, blonde hair brushed his shoulders and blew in the breeze.  And,
as he did so, it was obvious that the pouch of the yellow Speedo he
wore was stuffed with more than it should have been for someone so
young.  I shook my head in amazement, for if my definition of a "God
Boy" had ever been put on the Earth he was it.  Then, I glanced back
down at the book I was reading, wondering how God could have made such
a perfect specimen of a young teen.  I felt fortunate that I was there
to behold the sight, and I smiled as I began to read again.

It was the summer of 1980, and at the time I was twenty-eight years
old and fresh out of post-graduate school, having obtained a doctorate
in history.   Now, as I look at Jason sleeping peacefully beside me,
his abdomen rising and falling as he sleeps, I can't help but marvel
not only at how beautiful he still is for his age but at the long,
sometimes rocky road, he and I have traveled together.

Considering the state of the economy at the time, I had been fortunate
to land a job at the Community College in Daytona, Florida.  History
professors were a dime a dozen, and equally fortunate that the Dean of
Social Sciences had a close friend and colleague who was headed to
France for research and a visiting professorship.  The gentleman had
had an apartment he wanted to sublet and it was perfect, being within
a short drive from the college and right across the street from the
beach.  The price was right and I now had an apartment and had begun
to settle in.

The complex, itself, consisted of three buildings and my apartment was
25A, located on the second floor of Building A.  The apartment
overlooked the beach, which was across the street, and I felt myself
very fortunate to have such a good view.  In fact since moving in, I
often had had my morning coffee on the small balcony that faced
eastward toward the rising sun.  So, I was happy that the Sandhurst
Apartments was my new home and considered myself the luckiest young
history professor in the world.

Immediately after moving in, I developed a routine.  I went to the
beach in the afternoon to soak up the summer sun, and would either
read or work on my lecture notes for the fall term, and I was reading
a book when I glanced up and first laid eyes upon Jason.

"Uh, mister!  You wouldn't happen to have the time would yah?" a young
voice asked sometime later on that fateful day.

I glanced up from my book and was confronted with the sight of "God
Boy" himself, in his yellow Speedo, standing there with his hands on
his hips.  Immediately, I noticed, in the bright light of the summer
sun, the sparkling fuzz that ran from his navel downward and
disappeared into the waistband of his Speedo, the sign of an impending
"treasure trail" that wouldn't be long in coming.

"Uh, yes!  It's a quarter till four," I replied, looking at my watch.

"Oh gosh!  I'm gonna be late!  Mom likes me home a half-hour before
she goes to work.  Thanks, mister!" he said, and took off running, his
gazelle-like legs propelling him toward the stairs that led up from
the beach to the street.

For several days, I didn't see the kid when I went to the beach.
Then, there he was playing volleyball again with the other kids that
had gathered.  I smiled, unfolded my beach chair, and settled back to
read, comfortable that he was there again, for at least I could glance
up from my book every now and then and admire the beautiful creature
that God had made.

"So, what yah reading?" a familiar voice asked, and I looked up from
my book and there was the kid standing there with his hands on his
hips again.

"Uh, a book on the American Revolution," I responded.

"Oh!  George Washington, and Yorktown, and all that stuff," he
replied, and plopped himself down upon the sand cross-legged, then
brushed his blonde hair out of his face with his hand.

"You know about Yorktown?" I asked.

"Yeah, my history teacher last year.  She was all into that stuff," he
replied, and smiled.

"Well, if you remember it she must have done a good job," I replied.

"Yeah, I guess.  History is all about dead people and stuff.  I do
okay, but I like live stuff," he said.

"Okay, I can understand that," I replied, trying to be polite and
skipping a lecture on why history was important.

"So, you live around here?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah!  In the apartments over there," I said, pointing backward
toward the complex across the street.

"Uh, me too!  "Well, see yah!" he said, and he was up and running off
toward the stairs again, leaving me figuring he must have gotten the
time from someone else, because as I looked at my watch it was not
quite a quarter passed three.

As June wore on, and slipped into July, I found myself disappointed
when the kid wasn't there among the others on the days I went to the
beach.  I scolded myself for being so ridiculous.  Yet, it was like a
void filled my soul when he didn't plop himself down upon the sand and
chat with me before he left for home.  I learned that his name was
Jason, he was now fourteen, and would be in eighth grade in the fall.

"Hello!" the lanky blonde said, as she laid out her towel on the beach
not fair from where I sat in my beach chair.

"Hi!" I replied, noticing that she was very attractive.

"You the history man?" she asked.

"Uh, yes!" I said, wondering how she knew.

"Yeah, I thought so.  Jason described you perfectly.  My name is Mary,
Mary Tanner," she said.

"Uh, pleased to meet you, Mary.  I'm David, David Smith.  So, your
Jason's mom?" I asked.

"Yes, he's my son.  I want to apologize if he's been bothering you.
He tends to be a little forward with people, I'm afraid.  He says
talking to you is like taking a history class," she said.

"Well, not really.  He's asked me some things.  I just come here to
read and work on my notes," I replied.

"Well, if he bothers you too much just tell him to get lost!" she said.

"Uh, okay, but I can assure you he's been no bother at all," I said.

"Well, just let me know if he does.  He tends to be a little too
forward at times, like I said.  He's smart way beyond me, I'm afraid,"
she said.

"Oh? How's that?" I asked, immediately regretting that I had.

For some time, I listened to Jason's mom, Mary, as she poured out most
of her life history with Jason's dad, Gerald, and all that had gone on
since he had dropped out of the NASA test flight program and gone
missing in California.

She had married him right of high school, he being affiliated with the
space program and she being taken away with that fact.  In short, she
had no marketable skills and was working as a waitress, not making bad
money, but hoping to enroll in college and better herself someday.
Now, paying the rent on the apartment and taking care of Jason was
about all she could handle.  I pretended I understood.

"So!  What yah reading now?" Jason asked, as he plopped himself down
upon the sand beside me a few days later.

"Uh, just a book," I said, quickly closing it up and putting it where
he couldn't see it because it was a gay love novel someone had told me
about.

"Let me see!" he said.

"No!  Sometimes I like to read things other than history and that's
private," I replied, prompting him to giggle and brush his blonde hair
out of his eyes.

"I knew it!" Jason exclaimed.

"Knew what?" I asked.

"You're gay!" he proclaimed.

"Look!  You're one hundred percent wrong!  Now, I'm leaving!" I said,
starting to get up from my beach chair.

"Hey, I already saw the cover with the two guys hugging and kissing on
the front. It's okay, I'm gay, too," he said, prompting me to sit back
in my chair.

"You aren't old enough to know whether you're gay or not," I replied.

"Look, who's the only two guys got a Speedo on on this beach?  I get
kidded by some of the other kids about it all the time," he said.

"Get some board shorts!" I said.

"I don't want um.  I don't care if they tease me about it.  So, what's
your name, mister? I never asked yah."

"It's David," I replied.

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks!" I replied.

"So, how long you been gay?" he asked.

"Uh, look, Jason, I don't think this is something you and I should be
talking about," I responded.

"Why not?"

"Uh, it's just not the proper thing for someone my age to be talking
about with someone your age," I replied.

"I'm fourteen. I'm old enough," he said.

"Look, Jason.  All boys go through a period of experimentation.  Just
because they may do things with other boys at times doesn't mean
they're gay.  I think I better be going," I said, and sat up and began
to pack my stuff into my tote bag.

"What if they really like it?  I do.  You can ask Robbie if you don't
believe me," he replied.

"Robbie?"

"He's an older kid!  He's fifteen.  We been doin stuff together for
two years now," the kid replied.

"Look, I'm not going to ask Robbie anything. I've really got to go.
You shouldn't be telling any other adult or me about things like that.
 Robbie might not want everyone to know that the two of you do stuff,
as you say," I said, and stood up and folded up my beach chair.

"Will you talk to me about it sometime?" the kid asked, still sitting
cross-legged upon the sand and looking up at me.

"Talk to you about what?"

"About being queer."

"No!  I won't talk to you about it, and the term is gay.  I and many
others find the term queer offensive!" I said sternly, and headed off
in a huff.

"Uh, sorry, David!  Hope to see yah again sometime!"  Jason hollered
after me, prompting me to wave goodbye over my shoulder, not looking
back at him as I walked toward the stairs.

For a few days, I made myself stay away from the beach.  Yet, each day
it got harder and harder not to go. Finally, I gave in and plopped
myself down in my usual spot.  A usual, Jason was there playing
volleyball with the other kids and he smiled and waved at me when he
saw me.

"So, where you been?" he asked later, as he plopped himself down upon
the sand beside my beach chair.

"Uh, I've been busy," I lied.

"No you haven't!  You just got embarrassed at what I was talking
about," he replied.

"Look, Jason.  You're a nice kid and your mom tells me you're highly
intelligent.  So, you'll understand that I'm uncomfortable talking to
you about things like that," I responded.

"Who else am I gonna talk to?" Jason asked, and hung his head and
began to fiddle with the sand.

"Most schools have counselors that are there to help with such things.
 I'm sure one of the counselors at your school would be perfect."

"Nah!  They're all too old.  When you were my age did you jerk off
thinking about guys?"

"Holy crap!  We can't talk about stuff like that!  We really can't!" I
exclaimed.

"Well, did yah?"

"Yes!  Now, that's all I'm gonna discuss about it!"

"Good!  I was hoping I wasn't goofy or something," the kid replied.

Looking at the expression oh his face, my heart instantly melted at
the thought of how confused he must really be about his emotions.

"Look, Jason.  You're not goofy," I said.

"You mean it's okay to jerk off thinking about Robbie and I doing
stuff?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, prompting Jason to smile.

"Did you do stuff when you were my age?"

"Uh, yes.  There was a boy that I had close relations with all the way
through junior high and high school.  I guess you could say we were
each other's first boyfriend."

"That's neat!  It's not that way with Robbie and me, though.  He's got
a girlfriend."

"I see."

"Well, I gotta go!  See yah David!" Jason said, and jumped up and
scampered down the beach toward the stairs, prompting me to shake my
head in amazement at how suddenly he had become uninterested in the
topic of our discussion.

Over the course of the rest of the month of July, I got to know Jason
and his mom, Mary, rather well.  There would be times that she would
accompany him to the beach and she and I would talk about work and
other things, including Jason.  Twice, she invited me to have dinner
with them, she was a good cook, and Jason seemed to bubble over when I
did, taking particular glee in showing me the coin collection he had
started.  I feigned enthusiasm.

It was toward the end of the month, when the three of us were at the
shopping mall, that things again took a turn in my relationship with
Jason and his mom. While Jason was in the Arcade, she and I had
decided to have a cup of coffee.
For awhile, we sat idly talking about some of the items that each of
us had bought.  Then, things got serious.

"He idolizes you, you know." Mary said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Jason, of course.  You're all he ever talks about.  You can't tell me
you don't notice the look in his eyes when he's around you," she said.

"Uh, I can't say that I've noticed," I lied.

"Well, to me it's obvious.  I've never mentioned it, but you're gay
aren't you?" Mary asked.

"Uh, yes!  I'm gay," I replied.

"I thought so.  I suspect that's why Jason likes you so much.  I'm
positive he is as well."

"Oh?  What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Oh, they're signs.  The posters in his room for one thing.  All of
them are of young actors about his age, or a little older, all boys.
The two magazines I found in his room."

"Magazines?"

"Yes!  I don't know where he got them.  One of them is of older men
having sex.  The other is of younger guys doing the same thing.  I
decided not to make an issue of it figuring it was just curiosity and
I didn't want to invade his privacy.  I've begun to think it's not
curiosity, though."

"How's that?"

"I've seen the way he looks at certain boys and men when we've been
out and around.  You've noticed he's the only kid his age on the
entire beach that insists on wearing that type of swimsuit.  I've even
mentioned that fact to him and he's told me the other boys tease him
about it.  He says he doesn't care."

"Yes, I know.  He's told me."

"David, I'm not going to ask what you two have talked about.  I trust
you.  You have my permission to talk to him about anything he wants.
I would rather he find out from you that from some pervert.  Just
don't hurt him in anyway," Mary said in a serious tone.

"I wouldn't hurt him for the world," I replied.

After my conversation with Mary that day, it was like all the tension
melted away.  Jason and I became almost insuperable during the month
of August.  When both of us weren't at the beach we went to the movies
together or played the games in the Arcade at the mall.  The sporting
goods store had a sale and I bought him a Speedo with a tropical
print.  He couldn't wait to wear it.

Our conversations about sex became more intimate.  I listened as he
told me about he and Robbie, and it became obvious the two of them had
done more than just masturbate together.  Jason was performing oral
sex on the older boy on a regular basis and twice Robbie had tried to
fuck him, but it was just too painful and so they had stopped.  The
kid was full of questions.

"Do all guys that are gay have to act like girls?  Why do some older
guys like young boys?  Why do some boys like older men?  What's it
like to be married to a guy? When should he tell the other kids he's
gay? On and on it went, the kid never seeming to run out of questions.
 Yet, over time, I sensed that Jason began to be more and more at
ease, both personally and with me.  Too much at ease!

To Be Continued