Date: Fri, 26 Dec 2003 21:49:46 +0000 From: Guy Trache Subject: New story: Options OPTIONS by Pfantazm ~~~ This story was inspired by an encounter with one of the chatters in the #niftyorg chat room. It's not a bad little place to hang out. Why not visit me there? This story also contains depictions of sex with someone who may or may not be above the age of majority, but is well above the age of consent, at least where I'm from. If your local laws disagree, then nanny nanny poo poo. You have two options: read on and be marked as a criminal for the rest of your days, or move on to another story and wonder forever what might have been. If you don't catch me in chat, you can write at pfantazm at hotmail dot com, and you can visit my website at www.pridesites.com/pfantazm . My mailbox gets full every once in a while, so try again after a day if you get bounced at. Happy New Year, plus or minus six months! Come to think of it, Happy Everything, plus or minus six months! ~~~ I'd been going to this campsite for years. I knew the place pretty well. They'd been in business for decades. It had gone from tents only and really roughing it, to cabins for rent for families and Internet and cable TV hookups for RVs. I stay pretty much to myself, in the back corner of the back woods and away from where most of the weekender families with kids. I'm not old enough to know what it was like in the early days, but it doesn't stop me missing what I've never had. The shower is the only luxury I allow myself when I'm camping. When I go in the summer, I usually hike and do everything half-naked or with less on but I still like to be clean. The shower facilities up in my little corner are nothing more than a bare concrete building with a tile floor and a wooden roof. The change room is right inside the door. Two toilet stalls one way and two shower heads the other. Along with modernization, the campground has had to heep their facilities up to the building codes. It was too much trouble to try to make the shower "bunker" wheelchair-accessible and add a women's half to it - in the old days it was just guys here - so they built a completely new one closer to all the newer, cushier campsites. This suits me just fine. They keep the old one open, since it's still functional and used by folks like me. Last time I'm there, I was able to get two weeks off, and early on I go for my shower in my favourite pair of ratty jean cut-offs that probably showed more than they covered. I pull open the rough wooden door on its old squeaky hinges and I hear the water already running. There's a pile of clothes - T-shirt, shorts, white briefs, socks and shoes - piled on one side of the change area. Well, hell, I think. There's only one good shower here and I'm gonna have to wait. I kick off my old tennis shoes and drop my shorts. Maybe the guy won't be long. I stand in the rectangular archway to the showers - no interior doors here - and check out who's there. I take him in in a glance. I may come to this shower to jack off at times, but this campground just isn't for cruising. The guy doesn't look to be worth my time anyway. It's a kid. Maybe he's a mature-looking 16, or a young-looking 20, but he's real thin. Maybe 130 pounds soaking wet. Not much for arms or legs, but a bit of a six-pack at least, and an okay chest. What really turned me off was that he wasn't even under the shower yet. He was balancing this big bottle of shampoo on the too-small shelf beside the shower. We trade eye contact briefly, and I let him know through facial expression and body posture that I'm waiting and unhappy with my lot in life. And here's where things take a turn. The kid checks me out. He stands there and looks me up and down. He even unconsciously licks his lips. I raise an eyebrow. He quickly turns away and gets himself wet. I suppress a smirk and deliberately look away. Me, I'm 37 and look it. I have a man's arms and legs, a nice hairy chest that peters out around my navel and picks up again on the other side before spreading out to form a neatly trimmed bush above my soft cock. I have a beard and a tiger tattoo on my bicep. I'm a really easy-going guy most of the time, but to many people, I look like 180 pounds of trouble. Pasty White Boy is eyeballing me in the shower and probably thinks he's being all cool and subtle about it. Most guys his age wouldn't look twice at me, so it was kinda flattering. But it was more funny than flattering. While I'm counting the cracks in the tile grout, waiting for the kid to finish, I watch him out of the corner of my eye. Every time he turns his back to the spray, he'd gawk at me shamelessly. I figure he's a shade shorter than me, maybe 5'10". No unfortunate adolescent acne, which is good. Short-cropped brown hair, sticking up in all directions even though he hadn't got it wet yet. And one other important feature: he has a pretty little uncut cock, adult sized but slender, just like the rest of him. And it's hard and pointing at my chin. I think I have him pegged. Gay at the most, bi-curious at the least, and never touched another male human in his life. I decided to find out where this might lead. "You looking at me in the shower, kid?" I ask, not looking up. "Oh, no!" he says as he spins around quickly. "I saw you, kid. Are you getting hard?" "I wasn't looking," he insists, ducking the question we both knew the answer to. "Then why are you getting a hard-on? You get off staring at guys in the shower?" "No, I, uhh,... I'm sorry." He grabs his stuff and makes like he's leaving. I'm looking at him now and I put my arm across the door. "Hey!" "You do, don't you? You're gay." The kid's face flushes red when I use the dreaded G-word. "I, uhh, well,--" "Don't lie to me, kid. You like what you see here?" "Well, it's nice...." "This tells me you think it's better than that." I run the pads of my fingers along the underside of his stiff cock. He jumps back when I touch him, furhter into the shower area. Keeping him mentally off-balance, I advance on him until I have him in the corner under the second shower head. My body language is totally relaxed. If he had a few more pounds on him, he coulda pushed past me and bolted, no problem. He doesn't. "You're not leaving, kid." "I really have to go." He looks me over again, equal parts horned up, anxious to try, and freaking out. He decides to try to go around me but he doesn't have the room. I step to the side and he bounces of me like a fly on a window. Instinctively he puts my hand on my side, like he's gonna shove me out of his way. "Please, I have to leave." The kid's warm touch awakens my cock a bit more than it had already been. "See that, kid? You're getting me hard too." "No, I don't think so...." "You ever done anything with a man?" I ask, stressing that last word. "No," he barks. "Looks like you sure want to." "I don't know...." This time I take his whole cock in my hand. "Your body's giving you away." The kid jerks back against the cement wall and only winds up having me stroke his wet dick as he tries to get out of my hand. "*Please*, I have to leave!" "You haven't even showered yet. Where are you going to go?" "I don't know. Back to my site." I spin on my heel and jog out to the change area. I snatch up our clothes, leaving the shoes. He meets me at the front door. He tries grabbing me when he sees what I havem but we've already established that he's no match for me. My body pops the door open, and I pitch our things onto the roof. "What are you going to do now, kid?" I ask, grinning. Things have escalated. What I was doing before was pushy, but feeding into what he was secretly hoping for. Now, it's hitting the fan. "Hey, I need those!" Good, kid. Now you're showing some balls. "Go get them. I won't stop you. Just climb up onto the roof, naked, with a hard-on." The kid crosses his arms protectively and steps back away from the open door. "Then I'll go back with a towel." He turns around. His towel is gone, on the roof with the rest of his clothes. Mine is stil under my soap and travel bottle of shampoo. He goes and grabs it, dumping my stuff onto the floor and skirts it around his waist. I whip it off of him. "*My* towel." We're both fully hard now, and I'm the one open staring. He covers his erection with his hands and glares at me. "Only fair," I say, smiling, "since you were looking at me." He comes to his senses and drops his hands to his sides. "Now what are you going to do?" "I have no idea," he says, sullen. "The way I see it, you have two options." "What are those?" "Climb onto the roof for all to see. Or, I can get your clothes down for you." "Well, you threw them so you should go get them," he snips. Typical teenager logic. About time he started growing up, I think. "I'm not getting anything until I've had my shower." "I'll wait," he says, like he has me where he wants me for a change. "You're here to get a shower too, right? Not just to watch men like me?" "True." At least he's stopped denying what he was up to. I nod my head toward the showers. "Then let's do it. You'll get what you wanted anyway." He notices my deliberately ambiguous statement. "Uh, okay." I extend my arm in the universal you-first gesture and he goes in. I collect my stuff and follow. The shower's been running all this time, but we're the only ones on the tank so the water's still hot. I join him under the shower head. "There's another one," he informs me. Teenagers. They know it all. I go over to the other taps and turn on the water. It spits at the wall beside my shoulder. The head is so obviously caked with lime from hard water that it's useless. He rolls his eyes like his life is the toughest ever, and moves over sothere's room for me with him. His wood is deflated only a little. "Besides, why just look, kid?" "I like just looking." I lay my hand on his back. "I like more than that." "Good for you." I offer him the soap he dropped in the corner earlier. "I'm clean already." "You're wet. There's a difference." He takes the soap and steps out of the water. He works up a lather in his hands. "I don't recommend you drop the soap," I say, chuckling. He makes a face, but he's not as cranky anymore. As he runs his hands over his front, he keeps his eys locked on mine. He may not have been my type but he was putting on one hot performance. His hands paused on his nipples, circling them. When he washed his legs, he turned sideways to me, sticking out his ass provocatively. I was definitely warming to him by now. He doesn't rinse off afterwards, and his body shines with soap. "There," he says. He has however, not soaped up his stiff cock. "You missed a spot." "Where?" he asks with a smile. "Your back. Turn around." He blinks at me and realizes I'm right. He hesitates and turns around. I massage my bar of soap and set it aside. I touch him, meaning it, for the first time. I'm real good with my hands, and I keep full contact with his skin, caressing him all across his back. While I do, I feel that there's some hope for a less willowy body in there somewhere. I cover his skin thoroughly, then my hands snake down to his butt. One palms his cheek and the other, just as flat, slides between them to clean him well. He yelps and jumps away. "What are you doing?!" "Washing your ass. More important than your back." He eyes me suspiciously, like he thinks I'm up to something. I hold up my hand. "It won't bite you." "Just finish our shower and get my clothes." I retrieve my soap and do the same tease show for him. I have distinct tan lines from wandering around in my cut-offs. I run soap through my chest hair, and down my hips. I turn completely away from him to do my legs, showing him my ass. One of my better features, I've been told. I look over my shoulder at him. His cock is throbbing and his mouth is a bit open. "I need my back done too." He snatches up the soap and works it in his hands. He comes over to me and lays his hands flat on my back. "What's your name, kid?" "G-Gregory." "I'm Roger." He doesn't giggle, which means he doesn't know that verb. "Go ahead, Greg." Gregory starts to rub the soap into my back. I squirm a little, flexing those muscles a bit so he can feel them move under the skin. He gasps. I can practically hear him drool as his hands drift southward. They pause at the small of my back. "If you want, Greg," I offer. He quickly grabs my ass and moans. His hands go wild all over my cheeks. I make my glutes twitch and open my legs. "Shit, Roger," he breathes. "Your ass is so fine...." "I told you you'd get what you want." Greg rubs my crack with his hand and I let out an appreciative moan. "You have such a hot body, Roger." "Thanks," I say as I turn around. My hard-on is right there in front of him. Right by his soapy hands. Once again, he doesn't know what to do. "You've got two options," I tell him. "You can do it, or I can do it. Doesn't matter to me either way." He looks up at me, wondering if there's a trick. So far young Gregory has been making a lot of choices with me. To watch me so openly, to deny it when I'm not going to take his head off for it, to be a little snot when I offer him what he really wanted. So far every decision has made the situation worse. So far, he's made the less honest decision every time except for the first. Gregory's learning. He takes my seven inches in his hand and his eyes sparkle. His breathing quickens. I smile devilishly and groan a little. He jerks me and uses his other hand to soap up my balls. Kid's a quick learner. I keep my legs spread so he can go where he likes, and I clasp my hands behind my back. He's doing my cock a world of good but soap is lousy lube. "That's good, Greg. Save some for later, man." He stops and touches my hip. "There's yours too. Two options." He looks up at me and flashes me the cutest smile. His hands go behind his back. Never the one to do the expected thing, I grab him and pull him into a hug. He lets out a yip of surprise and his arms go automatically around my chest. I gather him close into my arms and I close my legs around his stiff cock. "Oh, fuck," he breathes. I squeeze his pecker between my thick thighs and start bucking my hips. I clutch his ass with both hands, spurring him to fuck my legs. By now our hands are all over each other, smearing creamy whipped soap across our skin. His face is contorted in pleasure. He humps hard against me. "Yeah, Greg, that's it. A man's gonna make you cum for the very first time." "Fuck, Roger, I'm gonna.... unngh!" That last moan soars in pitch into a whimper, and I feel him slam against my body. He cums on my balls and my thighs. I hold him close as his body spasms. His jaw is hanging open, so I lean down and stick my tongue down his throat. This jump-starts his limp body and he grabs my head and devours my mouth. We play tonsil hockey a while until he needs to come up for air. "Good choice." He laughs. I guide us under the spray. We both use our hands to rinse away the lather, and we stay locked together in an embrace, touching each other's soft skin. He enjoys playing with my cock and balls. I kinda growl in his ear. I push him down by the shoulders and start stroking my shaft. He keeps his eyes on the head of it while the hot water runs through his hair. "Two options, Gregory. You can just look, or you can fuckin' do." I don't push him into anything beyond that, and he sticks his tongue out to taste the head. There's a few drops of precum there as a reward. "Yeah, Greg, lick my dick." The kid gets bolder and starts to go to town on my head. He even knows to go after that patch of skin just under the head. I'm watching his beautiful face, his eyes closed and his pink tongue darting out to tease my purple head, and I know I won't last long. I haven't forced anything on him yet. I have always given him an out. This time I made the choice. I step back abd cream all over his front. I force out his name through my clenched teeth, my head back, my eyes screwed shut. Bugger me if he doesn't lunge forward to take the last couple of spurts into his mouth. "Aaaagh, shit, Greg!" My cock is thrusting forward, my muscles are all straining and my heart is going a mile a minute. When I've totally shot my load, I lower myself down to one knee. "Holy shit, man," he says. "You're a fucking beast when you shoot!" We share a laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment." Greg comes over and kisses me again. I can still sense the familiar taste of my cum on his tongue. I'm going soft but his hard-on is still poking me in the hip. I'm an old guy. I'm done for now. He's young and ready for seconds. "Stand up, Greg. I wanna taste you." He quickly gets up and puts his hands on my shoulders. His cock isn't as long or as thick as mine, but it's nothing to be ashamed of by a long way. He's got six inches easy staring me in the face. I swallow it whole, sliding my tongue up its underside. "Ohhh, yeah, Roger, suck my cock!" You don't have to tell me twice. I suck on it while I back off from him, then I drive forward again to stuff it into my throat. My tongue whips past his crown and shaft while I bob up and down. Greg's fingers thread through my black hair. He starts fucking my mouth, and I do nothing to stop his youthful enthusiasm. He's moaning non-stop while his fingers grip my head. I swear I could feel his balls tighten as they rapped against my chin in between thrusts. I moan onto his dick, and he fires his spunk into my mouth and down my throat. I pull off before he's done and collect some of his fresh nectar on my tongue. I smack my lips around his cock one last time, making him shudder before standing up. I French him again so he can taste himself. His eyes widen. I don't think he was expecting that. "Damn, kid, not bad. You're a pretty good kisser." "You're a pretty good everything, Roger. I'm exhausted." "Years of study, Greg." I wink at him. "You'll get there if you want to." He looks down and mutters, "Maybe...." "I guess you want your clothes." Gregory looks up at me again and smiles faintly. "Yeah," he says. We share my towel to dry off after we cleam the cum off each other. I put my tennis shoes back on and push the door open. I step out into the sunlight and look around. There's a pump beside the bunker and I use it to give myself a boost up. Greg's following me. I can feel his eyes on me as I reach for the clothes. There's a wind up and they've been strewn around. My chest and stomach are on the roof. I've got one leg bent almost double, supporting myself on the pump and praying it doesn't slip, and the other leg kicked straight out for balance, all wearing nothing but shoes. My pecker is dangling under the eave. There's almost no one around to see me, and I couldn't give a shit if there is. In this area it's all woods. Greg stands there, getting hard again and staring into my asshole. He reaches up and fingers it. I drop his T-shirt onto his head. "You'll make me fall, kid." He lifts up the shirt and I wink at him. He grins. I scramble up onto the roof. I recover Greg's towel, his shorts and his socks. And that's all. "How badly do you need that underwear, kid?" "It's gone?!" "Check around the building for it. It may have blown clear off." "Shit...." "While you're at it, see if you can find a pair of jean shorts. Cut-offs." We both go looking, but neither one materializes. We regroup by the bunker. I look down at him from the roof. "Damn, Greg. I'm sorry." "It's okay, I guess." "It won't show. No one will know you're walking around without it." He still looked troubled. "Be down in a second." I grab a branch out of the ground and swing down, hanging from the limb for a moment before dropping into a crouch on the forest floor. "You are a beast, Roger! A wild animal!" Greg says with a grin. I stand up. "I do my best." "Here's your towel," he said. "Thanks." I swing it over my shoulder. "You're going to walk to your camp like that?" "Out here in the middle of nowhere, they don't give a shit. I first met the owner of this place while he was hiking nude." "You got bigger balls than I have, man," Greg chuckled. "You might be surprised, kid. Maybe I'll see you around." "Hope so." Gregory waved at me when our paths split up, and I didn't see another soul on the way back to my tent. Never did get my shorts back, either.