Date: Wed, 11 May 2005 05:19:50 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: Mr. Thompson 1/3

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without his
express permission. Private persons and no others are given permission to
have one (1) electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this work. Nifty
Erotic Stories ArchiveTM is given permission to archive this work.

All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of
fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages and
conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of the legal
age or mindset, go no further but remove this material from your possession
forthwith.

If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story.  I'd really
like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative comments. I
have no idea really if I'm bringing any of you pleasure or what it is you'd
like me to write about.  I'd really like to hear from YOU so I'll have some
idea how I'm doing and what it is you like to read. Thanks.

I used two returns between paragraphs to simplify formatting for you. This
is a hyphen -. This is an en-dash --. This is an em-dash ---. Other
high-ascii characters that PC's can't understand have been stripped.

Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the
only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Nature's excuse
for being kinky.

Enjoy!

Jon


-----


Mr. Thompson Next Door

by Jon Hold

<jonhold@eudoramail.com>

M/t



When Bobby was young he was so horny he couldn't hardly stand it. Well
liked and popular, he did all sorts of sports and scouting and anything
else he could find to help burn off the energy. God and genetics had
conspired to not only give poor Bobby the dick of death, already over
eleven inches long and still growing, but a fully mature set of hefty balls
and a libido to go along with them. He jerked off before getting out of bed
each morning at least once, often twice or even three times. After
breakfast he'd wank again in the shower and then again in the park restroom
on the way to school. That really excited him because lots of times there'd
be guys at the pissers and in the stalls on each side of him watching. He
never let anyone in a public restroom touch him, but he sure got off on
listening to the heavy breathing as he wanked while flaunting his stuff. He
never wondered why the center stall was always empty and ready for him when
he came in every morning. He'd just walk right in, drop his pants and pull
up whatever shirt/jacket/sweater he was wearing, turn from side to side,
showing off his tight hole, firm buns and big schwantz, and, assured of an
audience, he'd lean back and commence pumping out a heavy load. Sometimes
he'd see an open mouth on the other side of the partition and shoot his cum
into it without actually getting his dick too close to the hole.

After that he'd have to do himself several more times at school, quickies
between classes or nice long strokers at lunch time. Before taking a shower
in gym he'd have to splatter a load in the white porcelain commode or he'd
be on the rail the instant he saw a pair of naked buns or one of his pals'
heavy swinging dick. Bobby took enough ribbing about his monster organ
without the complication of springing a boner and showing them just how big
the thing really got.

There'd be another stop in the park on the way home. The afternoon crowd of
men liked him to leave the door open so more of them could watch, but
sometimes he'd latch it anyway and put on an especially nasty show for the
lucky stiffs in the stalls next to him. Once he stripped bone naked and put
on a little bump and grind show for his exclusive audience. Running his
hands all over his body and wantonly, exhibitionistically stroking himself
until there were three and four guys hanging over the walls on either side
as well as whoever was looking through the holes. When he finally shot he
received a standing ovation and any number of wonderfully obscene
offers. Bobby was wise enough to be afraid of AIDS and perverts that got
their kicks hurting people that he didn't even consider acceding to any of
the requests, but they sure made him feel good. So good the day he stripped
down that he stroked off an encore performance before zipping up his pants
and leaving. He backed up far enough away from the hole in the partition
that everyone could see the size of the load he shot accurately into the
mouth of the guy waiting on the other side.

Bobby's mom had converted the small bedroom next to his into a downstairs
bathroom and it pretty much became Bobby's private preserve. He'd go in
there after school, lock the doors and spend hours jacking off, playing
with his balls, fingering his butthole, combing his hair, top and bottom,
looking into the mirror over the sink and performing for the full-length
mirror on the wall. He had licked many loads of boy cum off that
mirror. Bobby was in full stroke one day, arched in front of the mirror
with his finger up his ass as he slowly, teasingly spiral-stroked his
throbbing weenie. Bobby looked to his right and noticed that, not only had
his father trimmed away the bush that normally covered the clear glass
bathroom window, but that Mr. Thompson from next door was watching him
through the den window in their house that was only about ten feet
away. Bobby dropped his cock, flinched in pain as he jerked his finger out
of his ass and jumped to the side out of sight. Sneaking back, he stayed
near the wall, put one knee up on the closed commode cover and peeked
around the curtain to see if Mr. Thompson was still watching. He was.

Mr. Thompson wasn't wearing a shirt and had his arms over his head, leaning
against the wall with his hard muscled chest and ripply stomach
exposed. Below his bellybutton was exposed too! Mr. Thompson had his pants
and undershorts hooked underneath his big balls and was showing me a major
hunk of flesh. Unknown to Bobby, Mr. Thompson had a perfect view of Bobby's
backside in the wall mirror. Bobby was spraddle-legged with one knee on the
fuzzy green toilet seat cover and one foot on a stack of HANDJOB magazines
laying on the floor. Bobby was leaning forward with his hands on the back
of the toilet tank. The spread of his adolescently long legs and the way he
was leaning forward peeking through the window spread the pert cheeks of
Bobby's tight little ass completely exposing the cutest little virgin butt
pucker Mr. Thompson had seen in a long time. What was hanging between the
boys legs was far more impressive however.

Hairless from the nape of his neck to his heels, Bobby's wide-open stance
completely bared the hairless sack of a wonderfully adult-sized pair of
heavy balls hanging directly down from the boy's tight little
pucker. Vastly more impressive was the thick erection that hung down from
the boy's narrow loins, nearly touching the green toilet seat cover.
Mr. Thompson knew that, one way or another, he WAS going to feel the boy's
heavy monster up his ass.

Bobby's dick got harder and his mouth started watering as he stared at the
hard naked body of the older man. He was almost drooling. Mr. Thompson
smiled at Bobby and flexed his dick so it bounced and nodded at
him. Mr. Thompson motioned the scared boy to come over and then pulled down
the window shade. Bobby pulled up the lid of the toilet and frantically
jerked out a load that came out so hard it burned and made his balls ache.

Sitting backwards on the toilet with his dick draining the last of his
spooge, Bobby stared across the empty space at the closed window
shade. Mr. Thompson and his dad were real close friends, having grown up
together in these same two houses. His son Pete and Bobby were best friends
and used to pal around constantly when they were younger. They still
thought of each other as best friends, but didn't see nearly as much of
each other any more. Pete was more the studious type and Bobby more
athletically inclined, so they ran in different social circles. Bobby was
suddenly afraid that Mr. Thompson would tell Pete or his Dad how depraved
he was and ruin his life. Bobby wiped the head of his dick clean and washed
his hands. Then he slumped out to his bedroom to get dressed.

Instead of going to the back door like he usually did when he went to visit
Pete, Bobby rang the front door. Mr. Thompson opened the door and smiled
when he saw it was Bobby.

"Come on inside, Bobby. Ain't nobody home but me. Pete and his mamma and
sister are gone for the day. Why don't ya come in and we'll talk a spell."

Scared as Bobby was about what Mr. Thompson might say to Pete or his Daddy,
Bobby followed Mr. Thompson down the hallway and into his den. Bobby had
always liked this room. It smelled of leather covered books and
Mr. Thompson's old pipe. The warm orange and dark green and the dark oak
bookshelves and huge old dark-brown leather-covered overstuffed
couch. Mr. Thompson sat down in the middle of the couch the way he liked
and looked at Bobby.

"Well, close the door, Bobby, and come on in." he said patiently, patting
the couch next to him.

Bobby was scared, and feeling very insecure, but he did as he was told and
closed the door and latched it. Then he did like he hadn't done since he
and Pete were little kids. He sit down right next to Mr. Thompson and tried
to cuddle into his side the way he and Pete would do when they'd gotten
into trouble or just needed some extra attention. The older man saw what
the boy was trying to do, but it wasn't working because the boy had grown
so much. Mr. Thompson sat up a little straighter and wrapped his arm around
the boy's shoulders, tucking him in close under his arm. Bobby laid his
head on his best friends dad's chest and put his hand on the thickly
muscled thigh just as he had years ago.

"What's the matter, Bobby?"

Tears dripped and started wetting Mr. Thompson's well-muscled chest,
sticking to the few hairs around his nipples. "I'm scared you're going to
tell about what I was doing."

"Bobby!" Mr. Thompson said, snuggling Bobby in closer. "You must know that
I'd never do anything that I thought would hurt you. You're growing up and
you have new needs and desires. Besides, you didn't know that your Dad
trimmed that shrub down like that. You didn't give me a show on
purpose. But I'm sure glad you did." The whole time Mr. Thompson was
talking he was also gently rubbing Bobby's back and holding hands with
him. He'd picked up Bobby's hand from his thigh and was holding both their
hands in his lap. Bobby could feel something hot under his palm that was
making him excited. "Your body has really developed, Bobby. You are a very
beautiful boy. Have you talked with your Daddy about how your body's
changing and how to use it?"

Bobby blushed kinda red. "No, Sir. Dad's been awful busy since they started
putting in the new plant and I haven't wanted to bother him. Besides, he's
not around very much anyway.

The older man rubbed Bobby's hand up and down the heated part of his lap
and then, leaving Bobby's hand wrapped around the thick tube sticking down
his pants leg, he gently reached his own hand into Bobby's lap and took
hold of the organ so prominently tenting the boys pants. "You want to learn
more about how to use this, Bobby?"

Bobby moaned and squeezed the hot tube in his hand in excitement. "O' Yes,
Sir. Please." Bobby would have done anything right then to please the older
man, and to keep him from letting go of his dick.

"Good." said Mr. Thompson, bending over the boy clinging to his chest.

Bobby leaned his head back and watched his best friends father's face. His
lips parted in passion as older, fuller, more mature lips covered his. He
moaned as a far more experienced tongue filled his mouth and began teaching
him a way of kissing he had never known before. His whole body became rigid
as Mr. Thompson's hand slipped under the elastic waistband of his white
tennis shorts and caressed his clenching buns in time with the tongue
fucking his mouth. A questing finger touched his unbelievably sensitive boy
hole and, dizzy with oxygen shortage and passion, Bobby cried out into
Mr. Thompson's mouth and shook all over as he orgasmed in his pants. Tears
of relief coursed down his burning cheeks and his arms clutched their way
around the powerful adult neck as Bobby hunched against Mr. Thompson's
side, shooting again and again, more than he ever had before. The
post-coital tremors were just starting to shake Bobby's body when
Mr. Thompson slipped his finger just inside Bobby's pucker. With a weak,
uncontrollable cry, Bobby began cumming again, the older male's control
beyond Bobby's ability, or desire to resist.

"I want you here right after school tomorrow. OK?"

"Yes, Sir," Bobby weakly hissed as he burrowed into Mr. Thompson's armpit
and slipped into an exhausted doze, held in powerful arms that he totally
trusted.


End of part 1/3