No Pistol in his Pocket
by Ashley Hardric ©2007

    This is a work of fiction.  That means it is not true.  Didn’t happen.  It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed.  Author assumes no responsibility for seminal damage to keyboards.  Author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it.  Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and don't read the story if it's illegal where you are, and the thought police will arrest you.

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No Pistol in His Pocket

    The evening is warm, dark, and quiet.  Wearing only a pair of silk boxers, I sit on a lounge chair on my shared deck between my bedroom and my neighbor’s.  The duplex house we share is built in a U shape; we each have one leg of the U and half the base.  Living, kitchen, and dining rooms are at the front of the house, in the base of the U, and the bedrooms are in back, enclosing the deck between then.  Behind the deck we share is a common but secluded back yard.  Normally there is a wooden privacy wall between our two sides of the deck, but it’s been removed to allow some below grade repairs to be made.  My neighbor and I are thinking about leaving it down, because we both like the bigger, more open deck space.

    So I am enjoying the peaceful evening, just sitting in the dark, sipping a beer, and letting my mind wander.  The neighbor’s side is dark; I assume that Randy, a single dad, is not home as usual (he works long hours), and that his 16-year-old son Justin is out with his friends.  Then I notice a dim light come on in the window across from me:  Justin’s room.  His room faces the deck, and like mine, has a six foot sliding glass patio door.  Normally it would be hidden by the wall and I would have to peek through a knothole in the boards if I hoped to catch a glimpse of him dressing or jerking off.  Tonight his window is less than 10 feet away in plain sight.  I can see some shadowy movement through the thin drapes, but no detail.  I’ve no sooner noticed this than I hear the unmistakable strains of “The Stripper” coming from Justin’s stereo.  And as the music begins, additional lights come up behind the curtains, and then they part.  Justin stands barefoot in front of the open door wearing a silky white shirt and very tight blue jeans, his lithe teenage body illuminated by a couple of desk lamps he’s adjusted to shine on him like stage lights.  He’s actually skinnier than he looks in his baggy tee shirts and jeans, but he’s got nicely toned arms and broad shoulders that complement his average chest.  He doesn’t shave yet and I’ve seen no obvious body hair.  The shadows that the lights cast accentuate his thin, toned body beneath the clingy shirt and especially his obviously well filled basket that bulges between slender legs and virtually nonexistent hips.

    He begins to move a little with the music, just swaying a bit, moving his shoulders and so on.  Then he moves his hands to his chest and begins to caress himself as a lover would.  His nipples become stiff and prominent, pressing against the thin fabric of his shirt, made obvious by the lighting from the side.  He begins to unbutton the white silk, one button at a time down to his jeans, then shrugs it off his shoulders so that it falls around his narrow waist.  He slowly pulls one arm at a time free and the shirt hangs from his waistband.   He is totally smooth thus far; not even wisps of hair under his arms intrude on his perfect skin.  More caressing of his upper body as the music increases in intensity and then the release of the top button of the jeans.  The shirt drops forgotten to the floor as his hand slides inside his jeans, obviously caressing, massaging, holding, rearranging.  When he pulls the hand out, the clear outline of a hard cock remains, extending all the way up to the waistband.  Slowly, very slowly, with pelvic grinds and thrusts in sync with the music, he lowers the zipper, pushing against the hardon as he goes.  The blue denim parts to reveal white fabric beneath, and going faster now, he pushes the jeans down toward his thighs.  No ordinary Fruit of the Looms are left, but a sheer white pouchless thong that barely covers--and certainly does not hide--the meat that pushes it outward and up, nearly to his belly button.  With the jeans around his knees, he turns around to add his firm butt to the show, smooth and ample balls accentuated below by the two thong straps that disappear upward between his perfect cheeks.

    Justin knows that I am gay, and I know that Justin is exceedingly well endowed.  He likes to come over and hang out from time to time, and often we collaborate on dinner when his dad’s working.  He’s looked at various gay magazines in my house, and he likes to browse through the gay picture newsgroups and websites on my computer.   (His dad still has him locked out of all sex items on his own computer.)  A month or so ago I had returned a day earlier than expected from a business trip, and when I changed into lounge shorts and went to relax on the deck, I  found him sunbathing nude in the backyard.  He lay there in the sun awhile, his long cock draping down over those ample balls, and disappearing into the grass like an actual snake.  When he stood up to go in, it dropped down half way to his knees, swaying pendulously as he walked toward the deck.  He just said hi and welcome back and how was the trip and all that --he made no effort to cover up at all, just stood there idly scratching his balls--and he got half hard as he stood chatting with me.  I stared, I admit it, watching his cock straighten and start to ascend.  I put up a major pants tent as I watched him, which he obviously noticed, because he was staring too.  Then he went over to his side, and I did likewise.  I had to immediately jerk off, and wondered if he was doing the same on his side of the wall.

    So as he finishes his strip tease by kicking off his jeans and stepping outside onto the deck, it is not a total surprise.  A total pleasure, to be sure, but not a surprise.  He sort of dances his way toward me, his huge hardon bulging against the flimsy white thong.  He stops with his cock in front of my face, just as the song ends.

    “I hope this means you’re happy to see me,” I say to him, “because you got no pockets, and that’s not a pistol.”

    “No, but it shoots straight and true if you know how to aim it,” he replies.

    I pull him closer to me and he straddles me on the lounge chair.  I feel around his narrow waist for the tiny clasp of the thong strap, and release it, pulling the string from between his cheeks.  The bit of flimsy material drops to the deck and I take his massive tool in my hands, pulling it towards my mouth.  It’s too long to get all of it in, and I’m no good at deep throating, I can’t suppress the gag reflex, so I give the top plenty of attention, sucking and licking and trying to stimulate as many pleasure points as I can.  Justin starts fucking my face as I suck, and together we get a good rhythm going.  Then to my surprise, he pulls out.

    “What’s wrong?” I ask.  “Don’t you like it?”

    “Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, “and I love it.  But I want something else.  Something I’ve been practicing for.”  He opens his hand and shows me a small bottle of Eros Bodyglide. and a condom  “I already put some back there,” he says.  “Should we put some on you too?”

    That seems like a good idea and I tell him so.  He pulls my stiff cock out of the confining boxers and puts a few drops of the silicone lube on me, rolls the condom on, and adds a few drops to it as well.  As he does that, I reach around and probe his ass, discovering that he is indeed slick back there.  I push a finger in and meet no resistance, although he is quite firm.  A second finger is no problem, nor a third.  The boy really has been practicing, and he likes what I’m doing, judging by the appreciative noises he is making.  I pull my hand out and down to my own erection, and I ask him if he’s ready.

    “I’m more than ready,” he says.  “I’ve wanted your cock for so long, ever since I saw that magazine with the pictures.  It’s all I think about, your cock in me.  I want it.  I want it now.”  And with that he lowers himself toward my erection, pausing only briefly so that I can get aligned before sitting on my slick pole.  I slide into him easily and he sinks down all the way.

    He’s tight and hot and it feels great, but I don’t have any room to move and he doesn’t quite know what to do next, so I have to instruct him.  “Justin, babe, this is great but I can’t move.  You need to lie back and then bring your legs up.  Yes, like that.  OK, here we go!”

    With him on his back and me on top, I can give him the fucking he has been desperate to have.  And I do.  I pound his virgin ass, pushing full in and pulling out to the tip, and then repeating and with each thrust I hit his prostate and he is in sexual nirvana, judging by the noises emanating from his mouth.  I am also jacking his big cock, my hand extra slick with lube, and he does not last long (he’s 16, for Pete’s sake!), soon shooting thick ropes of cum onto his belly and into my hand.  Watching him cum while I am pumping his ass is way hot and I am cumming right after him, blowing a major load deep inside him, filling the condom in his ass.

    We both wind down and I pull out of him, lying on top of his cummy body, kissing him all over until I am face to face with him, and we can kiss mouth to mouth.

    “That was even better than I imagined it would be,” he says.  When I saw that web page on your computer, you know the one, “Boiz 4 Men,” it made me so hard!  I knew I wanted to try this, so I started putting stuff up my butt.  The biggest thing so far is the handle of a hairbrush.  Your cock was way better than the hairbrush.  I want to suck it some more, too.”

    “I’m sure that can be arranged,” I tell him.  “But maybe a shower should be the next thing on our agenda.  Let’s get clean, and then we can talk about getting dirty again.”


Thanks to Jay for pre-posting feedback and assistance!


Some readers have asked if I have an email notification list for new stories.  I am now assembling such a list, for the purpose of letting you know about new posts, and perhaps occasionally asking for opinions or suggestions.  If you would like me to include you, please click here.  I'll do the list so that it goes out as "BCC" so as not to publicize the members' addresses to each other. 

If you would care to check out any of the other "literary" fruits from the perverted mind of Hardric, here is the current list of my stories on Nifty.  Hopefully, I did the links right!  --AH

Cummencement Exercises, in High school, 5/26/05, No Fishing, in Young Friends, 5/28/05
Angel in Church, in Adult Youth, 6/3/05, Emale Exchange, in College, 6/6/05
Lessons in the Dark, in Adult Youth, 6/7/05, Missionary Positions, in Adult Youth, 6/8/05
Lessons to Remember, in College, 6/10/05 (Hmmm...this one seems to have disappeared!)
Summer Studies, in College, 6/17/05, Discoveries in Detention, High School, 6/19/05
Changes, in Adult Youth, 7/5/05, Getting Oriented, in College, 2/1/07
Come, Brother, in Young Friends, 7/12/05, Turkish Dreams, in High School, 7/21/05
Cory, Bo, and Doc, in College, 9/15/05, I'm Not Gay, adult/youth, ~11/22/06
Bagging Brent, adult/youth, 11/27/06, Twenty-four-Seven in Adult/Youth
Flight of Fancy in Adult/Youth, 12/31/06