To Love My Lawn Again, Part 2
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
This is the twelfth story in the series, The Lavender Line.
I was surprised to discover that I was nervous the morning that the last of the Wilson brothers was to begin his two year tour as my lawn boy (or, more accurately, "lawn boy with benefits"). I had still not met Kevin and Keith's youngest brother. I guess technically I had met him when he was a little kid playing on the same soccer team as my son, but that was years ago.
When I heard the mower start in front of the house, I was startled. I had expected Karl to ring the doorbell to introduce himself to me first. As I thought about it, I remembered that the middle brother, Keith, had done the same thing on his first day.
I went to the living room window to get a glance at the lad that would be serving me (and whom I anticipated "servicing") for the next couple years until he followed his older brothers to college. Karl looked taller and more muscular than his older siblings had appeared on their respective first days of work two and four years before.
He had the same light coloring as the rest of his family. His blond hair might have been a little paler, but his skin had the same tint.
Whereas Kevin and Keith always opted for worn out shorts and wife beaters, if they wore any shirt, Karl wore tailored khaki shorts and a golf style shirt, complete with some sort of logo on the breast. I fought a little disappointment that this boy bared less skin for me to ogle while he worked.
He also seemed to be more businesslike in his approach. Although they eventually covered the entire lawn thoroughly, Kevin and Keith were haphazard in their paths. They would often shift directions so that they spent a lot of time walking across areas that they had already mowed. Karl, on the other hand, did not seem to waste a step. He seemed to have a detailed plan in his mind resulting in the most efficient means of manicuring the sprawling lawn. I could tell that this boy had a very different personality.
As a result of his comparative efficiency, the doorbell rang to signal his completion sooner than I anticipated. I walked to the door wearing a baggy swim suit and t-shirt, my customary Saturday morning attire.
When I opened the door, the young man stood with what appeared to be a forced grin and with his hand extended. I noticed that the tips of his already blonde hair had been artificially lightened even more.
"Hello Mr. Gomez, I'm Karl Wilson," he said.
"Yes, of course," I responded, taken aback by the formality of his introduction and appearance. "You may call me, Juan, if you like."
"No thank you, sir," he said.
His brothers, too, had always insisted upon calling me Mr. Gomez. It always seemed a bit strange to me to be sucking the cock of a guy and have him say something like, "Oh, my god, Mr. Gomez, that feels so good. Oh, Mr. Gomez, take my cum..." A couple times, I almost laughed, although there was certainly nothing else that was humorous about the situation. Clearly the boys were not going for laughs as they unloaded their teen cum into my mouth.
I guess one of the things that struck me as incongruent about those circumstances is that Kevin and Keith always told me that they imagined that it was some hot girl from their school who was sucking them. Apparently the girls at their high school all happened to be named "Mr. Gomez."
"I guess we're supposed to go back to the pool area, now," Karl said.
"Well, that's what your brothers enjoyed doing," I replied. "They always liked to take a little swim to cool off after the hot work."
"Yeah, Keith gave me full instructions. Oh, and I'm sure I didn't get any lawn debris in the pool."
Apparently the briefing that Keith provided his brother was as thorough as I had hoped that it would be.
I led the way to the pool. I put the book that I had been carrying down on a table not far from the chair that I presumed Karl would eventually use, and pulled off my t-shirt, tossing that onto the same table.
When I turned I saw that Karl was not moving to follow my lead. Instead, he stood as if in a trance staring directly at my chest with it sparse covering of dark hairs. I guess, actually, my chest hair isn't really all that sparse. I have always thought of it in that way because all of my male relatives have exceptionally dense body hair. Their chests looked like forests. Unfortunately, their backs looked like their chests except without the nipples. I much preferred my own relative sprinkling of hair.
It looked as if Karl might agree with my assessment. I held still to allow him time to explore uninterupted. His brothers had never really even looked at my body. With them, the admiration was always one way.
At last Karl looked up to my face. We locked eyes, his face grew pink in embarrassment and he glanced to the ground where his gaze froze as he removed his shirt, folded it carefully and placed it next to my book.
As I had suspected earlier, Karl was much more physically developed than either of his brothers had been at sixteen. Indeed, he was more muscular than either were at eighteen. The muscles of his chest and abdomen were especially visible without him giving any effort to display them. His arms were pleasantly filled out but there were no apparent bulges.
Still looking down, Karl pulled his stylish belt from his shorts, coiled it and placed it in its position next to his shirt. He reached for the top button of his perfectly creased shorts. He paused and finally looked up to survey the privacy fence that surrounded the entire back yard.
"It's impossible to see into this area except from the house," I reassured him.
He looked at me and smiled, but I noticed that his face grew pink again. This boy was certainly more timid than his brothers, but there was something very endearing about his behavior.
It must seem very odd to be stripping in front of a man that you don't remember having met before. When I was his age, I was fooling around with other boys and an occasional adult, but I knew them all. Indeed more than a few were members of my extended family.
"We can get to know each other before you get ready for your swim," I offered.
"If I don't do it now, I might chicken out completely," he explained.
He opened the button and lowered the zipper, gradually exposing bright white underwear below. His brothers never wore anything under their shorts, another way in which this young man was different. As he began to lower the khaki shorts, I could see that the underwear was Calvin Klein. Of course, he would be wearing designer undergarments.
By now, I could predict his actions accurately. He folded his shorts with great care and placed them atop the table beside his shirt, lining up the bottom of the shorts with the bottom of the shirt. I was becoming fascinated by this lovely boy.
Standing in only his skimpy briefs, he looked like a Greek sculpture, perfectly proportioned in every detail. I almost wished that he would remain just like that--but only almost, as I was anxious to see the rest of him, the parts that would soon become my focal points.
"You're very different from your brothers," I observed.
"In more ways than you know," he confirmed with an air of mystery.
"How's that?" I asked while I noted the outline of his penis revealed by the thin pouch material. He was clearly unaroused, as I would have suspected with a boy so nervous. I presumed that he would be more relaxed during subsequent meetings.
"They're slobs," he grinned. "And they are more adventurous than I am. And other stuff, too."
I laughed at his description. He had nailed the same differences that I would have named. They always let the clothes fall wherever they removed them. They never exhibited any hesitancy in disrobing.
"What other stuff?" I pursued.
"Just all kinds of other stuff," he replied evasively.
"Can I guess?" I asked, even though I knew I was delaying his removal of his underwear.
He didn't answer, but I went ahead anyway.
"They get into trouble often and you don't?"
"Yeah," he smiled. "That's what I meant by adventurous."
"Right," I agreed, "and they don't do as well in school?"
"No, but they get by, I guess," he replied, seeming to give his answer a little thought.
"And they are really into girls?" I went on.
"God, yes!" he practically shouted.
"And you're not, except as friends, right?"
"Why do you say that?" he asked defensively.
"Hey, I'm just guessing, here," I said, although it was a guess based upon some personal experiences.
"You're right," he said looking down at the ground again.
"Do you really think you have to be embarrassed around me of all people?"
He looked me in the eyes, letting his smile be his answer. Then he looked toward his waist and lowered his Calvin Kleins.
"Watch this," he said. He tossed his underwear over his left shoulder without looking where they had landed. He laughed.
"You're a wild man," I teased as I looked at his balls and cock, which was just beginning to come to life.
"Your turn," he said pointing to swimming trunks.
"Are you sure?" I asked for confirmation. "Your brothers never wanted me to."
"My brothers are weird," he said.
"Karl, have you ever been with a guy?" I asked.
"I've fooled around with a couple guys on my swim team," he said, which let me know why he had such a fine body. He's a swimmer.
"It was just a game with them, though," he added.
I felt relieved that I would not have the pressure of being this guy's absolute first experience. Some guys seem to seek out virgins, but I don't see why.
"The first guy blew me before I blew him. The second guy just jacked me off, so that's all I did to him, although I wanted to do more," he said fulfilling some need to share more information.
I lowered my trunks and barely heard him whisper, "Wow!" Talk about a confidence booster. The approval made my cock respond immediately, which, in turn, caused him to begin his inevitable growth.
"I don't think I want to swim anymore," Karl said with a huge grin.
"We don't have to rush this," I said.
"Oh yes we do," Karl insisted, walking the couple steps to where I stood.
When he reached me, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled gently. He tilted his face slightly upward to compensate for the slight difference in our height. He leaned in the last few inches and gave me the gentlest kiss I have ever experienced. Then he slowly backed away.
"Can we go inside?" he asked.
I took him tenderly by the hand and led him to the guest room.
Being older and far more experienced, I expected to take the lead. Karl had other plans, though. I guess he had rehearsed everything in his fantasies, because he became the one in charge.
He was commanding without being demanding. He led me more by touch than by spoken requests. It was as if he picked me up and positioned me however he wanted, but of course he couldn't have done that even if he had wanted. He spoke to me by gentle pressure, to which I would immediately and unquestionably respond.
He placed me on my back so that he could slowly kiss every inch of my exposed flesh. He followed that by ceremoniously running his tongue along the same path as his lips had just traced. He lay beside me on his back on the bed. That was enough for me to know that I was to imitate his performance, which I accomplished flawlessly. It was difficult to maintain the slow pace that he had established, but I did.
When that ritual was complete, he arranged us diagonally on the bed so that we were each face to cock and cock to face. We devoured the balls of the other, running out tongues across the wrinkled sacks, feeling the little hairs play across. I'm sure he felt more hairs than I did, but essentially we were each feeling the same sensations at the same time--wondrous tickles on our sacks and our tongues.
Perhaps just a little sooner than I would have preferred, he turned his attention to my penis, and I followed suit. Tracing the shapes with our tongues to the tips and then engulfing each other deeply within our mouths.
After several minutes of this, Karl released my rod, but I held his.
"Can you cum more than once?" he asked.
"Only with a few hours for recovery," I replied. I thought how amazing it was for a sixteen year old to even think through things enough to know to ask such a question of a forty year old.
"Then I want you to come into me right now," he said.
"Do you mean...?" I started.
"Yes," he interrupted my obvious question.
"Are you sure?" I probed.
"Yes," he repeated with force.
I rose from the bed, removed a book from a shelf and grabbed one of the condoms hidden behind. I walked back to the bed.
In my absence, Karl had rolled onto his stomach and placed a pillow under his midsection, elevating his lovely round ass to a perfect angle to allow access.
I pulled his cheeks apart, leaned forward with practiced aim as my tongue landed perfectly on his little hole. On my way down to my destination, as I caught a glimpse of my target, I recall wondering how that could possibly accommodate my throbbing tool.
Karl tasted slightly salty and just a tad musky. Apparently he had generated a little perspiration while he mowed, although he certainly hadn't shown it. I devoured the wonderful mixture of flavors, leaving as much of my saliva as possible to serve as a lubricant. I licked, I pushed, I kissed, I probed, and then I licked some more. Each move seemed to generate another moan from my young lover.
While I wanted to continue my oral pleasure forever, I knew that my tongue alone would not prepare him sufficiently for my entry. I brought my fingers to the task, moving as slowly as possible. I inserted my index finger, and after at least five minutes of manipulations, I withdrew it to add my middle finger to the stretching effort. After a few minutes with both fingers working in unison, Karl interrupted me.
"Give me your cock," he ordered. "I want it now!"
I could not have disobeyed his order for anything. I lined up my sheathed member properly and began to push into him. I felt the resistance of his sphincter begin to ease. Karl must have done his homework in preparation for this first lesson, because I felt him begin to push out, the male secret to being able to receive a lover with less pain.
Still, when I passed his tightest spot, I felt the rest of his body tense. I paused and watched for his silent signal to continue my entry. His nod came sooner than I anticipated, so I continued my downward journey into his depths.
I felt my crown rub against his prostate as I passed. He screamed in pleasure. I continued past it until I was fully into him.
"Oh, my god, you're enormous," he said.
"Do you want me to pull out?" I asked fearing that I had read his body incorrectly and that I was inflicting pain.
"No," he commanded. "You feel great inside me."
I was relieved by his response. I began a slow retreat, passing his prostate again, flexing my cock as I did so before continuing my upward movement. When I felt that I was nearly out, I started my slow return to full depth.
"I can handle whatever you want to give me, now," he said.
I gradually increased the speed of my upward and downward repetitions, careful to perform some special treat for his love button on each pass. I reached my maximum velocity, and I noticed that his sounds of approval were coming without any interruptions.
His encouragement seemed to trigger some instinct in me and I started pounding him with more force than ever until I felt the immense pleasure rising from my toes and descending from my fingers. Those waves met in the middle and I exploded at my deepest point of penetration.
Karl no doubt felt my climax by its pulsing deep within him, and he literally shouted his encouragement. Somehow I produced more and more and even more cum. And then I just literally collapsed on top of him.
I came to my senses some time later, and regretfully removed myself from him. I was surprised to see that my cock was still rigid inside the full condom.
"Did you cum?" I whispered into Karl's ear before rolling off of him.
"Oh, man," he replied in a sigh. "I tried to stop it. I didn't want to make a mess on your pillow, but I couldn't hold back. I've never felt anything like that before. I'm sorry about the mess."
Of course, Karl would worry about the mess. I tried to reassure him that we sent out all our laundry, but I think he still felt guilty.
A while later we had just kissed good bye at the door. It was a surprisingly passionate kiss considering that we were both rather exhausted and fully satisfied.
Karl said, "I'm never going to have sex with another boy."
"Why," I asked, panicked that somehow I had aroused a sense of guilt in him that I hadn't noticed.
"Men are great," he explained. "Boys are just amateurs."
"You could help them improve," I suggested, feeling relieved that I hadn't turned the lad into just another straight boy.
"I'd rather stick to guys like you, for now," he said. "See you next week, Juan."
I didn't realize for about an hour that he had called me by my first name. I think our mutual explorations had helped him view us as more like equals. I felt a sense of warmth at that realization, but I still felt as if he should continue exploring boys in his own age group between our weekly sessions. I was confident that he eventually would.
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