Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2023 21:36:08 +0000 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: Patience Jim was coming by after school, which meant sometime between three and four in the afternoon. I wanted everything to be perfect, because I had waited over ten years for this day, and I didn't want to screw it up. His favorite snacks were in the kitchen. I'd made sure no one else expected me to be home. My phone was set to "do not disturb." I was friend to the family, fictive uncle, mentor, tutor, confidant. He confessed his frustrations about his parents and teachers to me, and his parents told me their fears for his future. The relationship had evolved over many years, starting when Jim's mother began dating a good friend of mine. They eventually married, combining four kids into one household like some latter-day Brady Bunch. I was around for most holidays and the occasional birthday. Jim was the apple of his parents' eye. Every bit the blond-haired, brown-eyed moppet as a child, he developed talents in math, music, and wrestling of all things. He'd been wrestling at the 120-pound level this year, his second to last in high school. I had attended as many of those meets as I could since he started wrestling, back in fourth grade. No longer that tow-headed youth, Jim had grown into a handsome, athletic, gregarious brown-haired teen boy. He managed to get good grades and still maintain his position in the challenging social structure of high school. Jim was thus well adjusted and had excellent prospects for college. He didn't know it, but today we were going to be talking about a different kind of prospect, namely my chances of getting into his pants. It was something I'd thought about ever since he'd been blessed quite kindly by the puberty fairy, if not before, but I would never, ever have tried anything before today, when he reached the age of consent. Given our relationship, I could have bedded him any number of times since he became a sexual being, around thirteen, but what's the challenge in that? No matter a boy's orientation, he can be manipulated pretty easily with the right combination of hormones and admiration for the man in question. A boy coming into his own will fuck a pillow, a sock, an old stuffed animal or a willing mouth if the circumstances are ripe for it. I could have violated every creamy square inch of his lean young body over the years, but the problem is I couldn't guess if he'd later look back on that time fondly, or consider me a rapist. I never wanted to take the chance that he'd rate me a monster. It was now time to find out if my patience would yield a payoff, or if opportunity had long since slipped through my fingers. He arrived just on time, walking through the door with a cheery greeting to announce his presence. I'd convinced him he didn't need to knock long ago. Theoretically it was because he was like family, but deep down I'd always hoped he'd walk in on me naked or in a compromising position. That had never happened because I never orchestrated it; that kind of "accident" is never really accidental. I do not wonder why I have not been successful in landing a boy in my bed. However, it's not by chance that I live in a state where the age of consent is only 16. Hope rises as often as the member. "Sup, Dave?" Jim said, his voice still containing notes of the boy soprano he once was. "How's it hangin'?" I replied, giving him a hug. He was wearing a tight-fitting white athletic shirt that followed his body's every contour, and loose black basketball shorts which followed none. "Loosey-goosey," he replied automatically, and I joined in as he said, "because tighty-whitey's not all-righty!" We both laughed at the familiar refrain. As we sat back, I said, "From what I remember, at your age things are probably getting a lot more tighty-whitey every day." "What do you mean?" he asked. "That I probably need new underwear?" "You have grown," I agreed, "but guys grow in more ways than just up, am I right?" He rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it!" Lowering his voice to a near-whisper, he said, "I honestly don't get the guys in school who walk around in sweat pants. How does that even work?" I laughed again, and started to the kitchen to get the food. "Guys with penises made of leather, that's who!" I said over my shoulder as I left the room. Jim clearly found this hilarious, and was still chuckling when I returned. "You know what the problem is with those leather-dick types, right?" I asked. He shook his head, and I concluded, "They are so numb they need to jerk off into sandpaper to feel anything!" "Ouch!" Jim cried, cupping his crotch. "Well that's not going to happen to you, is it, Mr. Sensitive Wiener?" "Hey!" "Oh, please, you all but admitted you walk around half the day with a boner down your leg, Jim." "Fine," he said, "but it still sounds like you're making fun of me." "Never in a million years, my friend. In fact, I admire a man whose soldier is always at attention, ready to serve." "Yeah?" he asked between cookies. "Why's that?" "Well, a willing soldier is ready for any opportunity that might spring up," I answered. "He'll go down any hole you order him into and find what you're looking for." "What am I looking for, again?" Jim said. "Well, most of us are looking to get laid, but would gladly settle for a blowjob." "Then we're still talking about sex?" "Well, we started on erections, not sure where else to go from there." "Hmm." "Sorry, want to change the subject?" "Nah, it's okay. I never really get to talk about sex. If you really want to that would be cool," Jim said. "Your call, then," I said. "What's on your mind?" He thought for a moment, then said, "One time in biology, my teacher was talking about reproduction, and she said that masturbation actually makes hair grow on your palms. Then after it was quiet for a second she said, 'That's not really true, I just like to see the boys try to look at their palms without anyone noticing.' Everyone laughed, but I was definitely embarrassed." "Yeah, polishing the fishing pole is something we all do, but everyone pretends they don't," I agreed. "It's funny that all my friends talk about having sex, but act like they don't jerk it," Jim replied, warming up to the subject. "Part of me wants to say 'Dudes, I do it, we all do it, what's the problem?' but usually only when I need to pretty bad. Being horny really changes how I think." "Oh, definitely," I agreed. "You know about beer goggles?" Jim shook his head and I explained, "It's when you're drunk enough that anybody looks attractive enough to take home for sex. I think the real problem, though, is dick mouth." "Wait, what?" he laughed. "That's when you're horny enough to say things you wouldn't in a million years otherwise. Masturbation is a survival technique!" "What kinds of things have you said?" he asked, his eyes bright. "You first," I said, trying to dodge the question, at least for now. Get him to admit something, and maybe I'd be willing to share as well. "Well, one time I called a girl 'Boobra' when her name is Barbara," he said. "She has a big rack?" I asked "Totally!" We both laughed, and then Jim said, "Your turn." "I once offered to give a blowjob to get one," I admitted. "Whoa, really? Did you do it?" I shrugged. "A blowjob's a blowjob, man." "Wow. Was it gross?" Smiling, I said, "You're not listening, Jim. I said, 'a blowjob's a blowjob.' I might not kill to get one, but when I'm hard up, let's just say some things don't seem so terrible." "Damn, Dave, I never would have guessed that about you." I shrugged. "Sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do," I said. Jim smiled. "Yeah, I guess I get that part. When I'm horny it's like I get this fog in my brain and all I can see through it is the person I want to have sex with, never the giant football player boyfriend standing right there." "Yup," I said. "I think we get tunnel vision because the worm's only got one eye." He nodded, then said, "Was it worth it for you?" He made the dick-in-mouth gesture. I smiled. "Definitely. It was the best blowjob of my life." His eyes widened. "Really?" I nodded. "I guess if you have had a penis all your life, you know what you want a blowjob to feel like." Jim shifted, then said, "I guess that means you give pretty good head, too." "I guess, but I can't say because I've never sucked my own dick." That got a loud laugh out of him, then he said, "I tried to one time. I couldn't quite make it." "Mine is the one dick I would definitely never want to suck, because I KNOW where that thing has been," I said, eliciting another laugh. "I like to think of a blowjob as the friendliest thing someone can do for me. No matter who gives me one, they are definitely a good friend, and it's only right to return the favor somehow." "You gotta be friendly to have friends like that," Jim said, his voice quiet but intense. "Yup." My mouth was dry. We waited, for what we would not say. Finally, Jim said, "I guess I'm feeling really super friendly right now." "I'll be your friend, Jim," I said, putting my hand on his crotch. He flexed into me, and I felt along the length down his leg for the head. He looked down and, as his body reacted, whispered, "Looks like I'm happy to see you." I gave him a squeeze and a smile. I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted. I was frozen in the moment, holding onto this boy's hard penis, about to make both our dreams come true. I tugged on his basketball shorts, and the boy stood up and yanked everything down to his ankles. Jim sat back down, his eyes pointed at the far wall and his cock pointing at the ceiling. I scanned his lean body dreamily but, not wanting to disappoint, quickly bent over to taste his meat. Licking my lips, I slid down to his soft pubic bush quickly, then pulling off more slowly to allow him to feel my lips fire every neuron they could. I looked up at him, making eye contact as he glanced downward while catching his breath. I sucked gently on the head, and he threw his own back in response. Half his length I slid in and out of me, allowing him to enjoy the rhythm but not a full thrust quite yet. Withdrawing again I circled frenulum with tongue to find out which spots made the boy quiver. Now I downed three-quarters of his length, and as I bobbed I felt a young hand at the back of my head. Pausing, I gently moved it onto my shoulder before going back to getting busy. I wanted to teach him to be a gentleman, like me, instead of a basketball player. On my way back up to rest, I dared touch his swollen ridge ever-so-slightly with my front teeth. I was rewarded by him sucking in his breath and shoving himself back into my mouth reflexively. Mouth-fucking without the bracing hand is fine, so I opened my throat and let him slide home a half-dozen times before I pulled off to tease a bit more. "Don't stop," he pleaded. "Not stopping," I assured him. "You did say you were feeling friendly, though." "Now?" he asked, the pitch of his voice climbing. I circled the head with the tip of my tongue. "Only if this feels good," I said. "'You gotta be friendly to have friends like that,' right?" "You can't tell ANYONE," he said after some thought. I went all the way back down on his cock before nodding agreement. Then I pulled off to say, "Let's get naked." The boy shed his clothing with stunning speed, and somehow didn't let his dick out of my mouth while he did it. I followed suit more slowly, and being careful not to let this prize slip from my lips as Jim settled onto the faux fur rug alongside me. Jim had been reared right, and didn't need any prompting to make good on his word. I felt the timid explorations of his lips and tongue, and over time the wetness of his mouth was over the head. I knew I could slide in deep with just a tiny thrust, but I'd waited years for this, and I wanted Jim to want to do it again. Instead of trying to force myself into him, I forced the boy's cock into my own mouth. The attention I paid to Jim was all the encouragement he needed to learn the ropes. He did choke, once, and I immediately pulled back to show the boy that he didn't need to rush. Eventually, Jim found the rhythm to bob on my knob while lying on his side. I took a moment to absorb the scene: balls all but hairless in front of my nose, lazily hanging but at the ready; the stiff cock bent on emptying those balls into my throat; the pubic hair that yielded quickly to a hairless abdomen, pulled taut against a flush navel; muscles working under ribs and pert nipples, mounted on a lean chest; a glimpse of underarm that didn't reveal if hair sprouted there or not; a soft young hand guiding my own cock into a young mouth. The totality of this sex act overcame me and I opened my mouth to moan, only to get another half-inch of Jim as a reward. That was enough for me to see stars as I clenched and shot and shot and shot. Jim's cough turned to a moan as I swallowed him completely and tried to pull him closer with his cheeks. Jim shot many more spurts than I, but I had him far enough back to make swallowing the only easy option. With my throat occupied, I breathed in his heady scent through my nose. Knowing that the next few moments would define this experience for Jim, I nursed his dick slowly while sending a hand to caress him firmly in widening exploratory circles. When Jim pulled off, I did same, and as we sat up I wrapped my arm around him in a manly half-embrace. I wasn't sure if Jim would take kissing as girly, and I didn't want the boy to feel like the fellatio was a threat to his masculinity. Releasing him, I rose and turned to give the boy another look, then grabbed my pants and tossed him his shorts. "You want to shoot some hoops, or you already have an appetite?" I asked. Jim smiled. "Playing with balls always makes me hungry," the boy replied. Let's see how hungry I make you next time, I thought to myself as we headed outside. I didn't know when that would be, but I knew how to be patient. ________________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed the preceding work of fiction, please consider donating to Nifty. Every dollar goes a long way. I am delighted to be listed as a prolific net author; you can find a current list of my Nifty contributions by visiting https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#paternalwatcher. ------- Original Message ------- On Sunday, September 17th, 2023 at 5:34 PM, The Paternal Watcher wrote: Archivist, Here is a new story for you to consider for publication. Thank you. Jim was coming by after school, which meant sometime between three and four in the afternoon. I wanted everything to be perfect, because I had waited over ten years for this day, and I didn't want to screw it up. His favorite snacks were in the kitchen. I'd made sure no one else expected me to be home. My phone was set to "do not disturb." I was friend to the family, fictive uncle, mentor, tutor, confidant. He confessed his frustrations about his parents and teachers to me, and his parents told me their fears for his future. The relationship had evolved over many years, starting when Jim's mother began dating a good friend of mine. They eventually married, combining four kids into one household like some latter-day Brady Bunch. I was around for most holidays and the occasional birthday. Jim was the apple of his parents' eye. Every bit the blond-haired, brown-eyed moppet as a child, he developed talents in math, music, and wrestling of all things. He'd been wrestling at the 120-pound level this year, his second to last in high school. I had attended as many of those meets as I could since he started wrestling, back in fourth grade. No longer that tow-headed youth, Jim had grown into a handsome, athletic, gregarious brown-haired teen boy. He managed to get good grades and still maintain his position in the challenging social structure of high school. Jim was thus well adjusted and had excellent prospects for college. He didn't know it, but today we were going to be talking about a different kind of prospect, namely my chances of getting into his pants. It was something I'd thought about ever since he'd been blessed quite kindly by the puberty fairy, if not before, but I would never, ever have tried anything before today, when he reached the age of consent. Given our relationship, I could have bedded him any number of times since he became a sexual being, around thirteen, but what's the challenge in that? No matter a boy's orientation, he can be manipulated pretty easily with the right combination of hormones and admiration for the man in question. A boy coming into his own will fuck a pillow, a sock, an old stuffed animal or a willing mouth if the circumstances are ripe for it. I could have violated every creamy square inch of his lean young body over the years, but the problem is I couldn't guess if he'd later look back on that time fondly, or consider me a rapist. I never wanted to take the chance that he'd rate me a monster. It was now time to find out if my patience would yield a payoff, or if opportunity had long since slipped through my fingers. He arrived just on time, walking through the door with a cheery greeting to announce his presence. I'd convinced him he didn't need to knock long ago. Theoretically it was because he was like family, but deep down I'd always hoped he'd walk in on me naked or in a compromising position. That had never happened because I never orchestrated it; that kind of "accident" is never really accidental. I do not wonder why I have not been successful in landing a boy in my bed. However, it's not by chance that I live in a state where the age of consent is only 16. Hope rises as often as the member. "Sup, Dave?" Jim said, his voice still containing notes of the boy soprano he once was. "How's it hangin'?" I replied, giving him a hug. He was wearing a tight-fitting white athletic shirt that followed his body's every contour, and loose black basketball shorts which followed none. "Loosey-goosey," he replied automatically, and I joined in as he said, "because tighty-whitey's not all-righty!" We both laughed at the familiar refrain. As we sat back, I said, "From what I remember, at your age things are probably getting a lot more tighty-whitey every day." "What do you mean?" he asked. "That I probably need new underwear?" "You have grown," I agreed, "but guys grow in more ways than just up, am I right?" He rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it!" Lowering his voice to a near-whisper, he said, "I honestly don't get the guys in school who walk around in sweat pants. How does that even work?" I laughed again, and started to the kitchen to get the food. "Guys with penises made of leather, that's who!" I said over my shoulder as I left the room. Jim clearly found this hilarious, and was still chuckling when I returned. "You know what the problem is with those leather-dick types, right?" I asked. He shook his head, and I concluded, "They are so numb they need to jerk off into sandpaper to feel anything!" "Ouch!" Jim cried, cupping his crotch. "Well that's not going to happen to you, is it, Mr. Sensitive Wiener?" "Hey!" "Oh, please, you all but admitted you walk around half the day with a boner down your leg, Jim." "Fine," he said, "but it still sounds like you're making fun of me." "Never in a million years, my friend. In fact, I admire a man whose soldier is always at attention, ready to serve." "Yeah?" he asked between cookies. "Why's that?" "Well, a willing soldier is ready for any opportunity that might spring up," I answered. "He'll go down any hole you order him into and find what you're looking for." "What am I looking for, again?" Jim said. "Well, most of us are looking to get laid, but would gladly settle for a blowjob." "Then we're still talking about sex?" "Well, we started on erections, not sure where else to go from there." "Hmm." "Sorry, want to change the subject?" "Nah, it's okay. I never really get to talk about sex. If you really want to that would be cool," Jim said. "Your call, then," I said. "What's on your mind?" He thought for a moment, then said, "One time in biology, my teacher was talking about reproduction, and she said that masturbation actually makes hair grow on your palms. Then after it was quiet for a second she said, 'That's not really true, I just like to see the boys try to look at their palms without anyone noticing.' Everyone laughed, but I was definitely embarrassed." "Yeah, polishing the fishing pole is something we all do, but everyone pretends they don't," I agreed. "It's funny that all my friends talk about having sex, but act like they don't jerk it," Jim replied, warming up to the subject. "Part of me wants to say 'Dudes, I do it, we all do it, what's the problem?' but usually only when I need to pretty bad. Being horny really changes how I think." "Oh, definitely," I agreed. "You know about beer goggles?" Jim shook his head and I explained, "It's when you're drunk enough that anybody looks attractive enough to take home for sex. I think the real problem, though, is dick mouth." "Wait, what?" he laughed. "That's when you're horny enough to say things you wouldn't in a million years otherwise. Masturbation is a survival technique!" "What kinds of things have you said?" he asked, his eyes bright. "You first," I said, trying to dodge the question, at least for now. Get him to admit something, and maybe I'd be willing to share as well. "Well, one time I called a girl 'Boobra' when her name is Barbara," he said. "She has a big rack?" I asked "Totally!" We both laughed, and then Jim said, "Your turn." "I once offered to give a blowjob to get one," I admitted. "Whoa, really? Did you do it?" I shrugged. "A blowjob's a blowjob, man." "Wow. Was it gross?" Smiling, I said, "You're not listening, Jim. I said, 'a blowjob's a blowjob.' I might not kill to get one, but when I'm hard up, let's just say some things don't seem so terrible." "Damn, Dave, I never would have guessed that about you." I shrugged. "Sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do," I said. Jim smiled. "Yeah, I guess I get that part. When I'm horny it's like I get this fog in my brain and all I can see through it is the person I want to have sex with, never the giant football player boyfriend standing right there." "Yup," I said. "I think we get tunnel vision because the worm's only got one eye." He nodded, then said, "Was it worth it for you?" He made the dick-in-mouth gesture. I smiled. "Definitely. It was the best blowjob of my life." His eyes widened. "Really?" I nodded. "I guess if you have had a penis all your life, you know what you want a blowjob to feel like." Jim shifted, then said, "I guess that means you give pretty good head, too." "I guess, but I can't say because I've never sucked my own dick." That got a loud laugh out of him, then he said, "I tried to one time. I couldn't quite make it." "Mine is the one dick I would definitely never want to suck, because I KNOW where that thing has been," I said, eliciting another laugh. "I like to think of a blowjob as the friendliest thing someone can do for me. No matter who gives me one, they are definitely a good friend, and it's only right to return the favor somehow." "You gotta be friendly to have friends like that," Jim said, his voice quiet but intense. "Yup." My mouth was dry. We waited, for what we would not say. Finally, Jim said, "I guess I'm feeling really super friendly right now." "I'll be your friend, Jim," I said, putting my hand on his crotch. He flexed into me, and I felt along the length down his leg for the head. He looked down and, as his body reacted, whispered, "Looks like I'm happy to see you." I gave him a squeeze and a smile. I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted. I was frozen in the moment, holding onto this boy's hard penis, about to make both our dreams come true. I tugged on his basketball shorts, and the boy stood up and yanked everything down to his ankles. Jim sat back down, his eyes pointed at the far wall and his cock pointing at the ceiling. I scanned his lean body dreamily but, not wanting to disappoint, quickly bent over to taste his meat. Licking my lips, I slid down to his soft pubic bush quickly, then pulling off more slowly to allow him to feel my lips fire every neuron they could. I looked up at him, making eye contact as he glanced downward while catching his breath. I sucked gently on the head, and he threw his own back in response. Half his length I slid in and out of me, allowing him to enjoy the rhythm but not a full thrust quite yet. Withdrawing again I circled frenulum with tongue to find out which spots made the boy quiver. Now I downed three-quarters of his length, and as I bobbed I felt a young hand at the back of my head. Pausing, I gently moved it onto my shoulder before going back to getting busy. I wanted to teach him to be a gentleman, like me, instead of a basketball player. On my way back up to rest, I dared touch his swollen ridge ever-so-slightly with my front teeth. I was rewarded by him sucking in his breath and shoving himself back into my mouth reflexively. Mouth-fucking without the bracing hand is fine, so I opened my throat and let him slide home a half-dozen times before I pulled off to tease a bit more. "Don't stop," he pleaded. "Not stopping," I assured him. "You did say you were feeling friendly, though." "Now?" he asked, the pitch of his voice climbing. I circled the head with the tip of my tongue. "Only if this feels good," I said. "'You gotta be friendly to have friends like that,' right?" "You can't tell ANYONE," he said after some thought. I went all the way back down on his cock before nodding agreement. Then I pulled off to say, "Let's get naked." The boy shed his clothing with stunning speed, and somehow didn't let his dick out of my mouth while he did it. I followed suit more slowly, and being careful not to let this prize slip from my lips as Jim settled onto the faux fur rug alongside me. Jim had been reared right, and didn't need any prompting to make good on his word. I felt the timid explorations of his lips and tongue, and over time the wetness of his mouth was over the head. I knew I could slide in deep with just a tiny thrust, but I'd waited years for this, and I wanted Jim to want to do it again. Instead of trying to force myself into him, I forced the boy's cock into my own mouth. The attention I paid to Jim was all the encouragement he needed to learn the ropes. He did choke, once, and I immediately pulled back to show the boy that he didn't need to rush. Eventually, Jim found the rhythm to bob on my knob while lying on his side. I took a moment to absorb the scene: balls all but hairless in front of my nose, lazily hanging but at the ready; the stiff cock bent on emptying those balls into my throat; the pubic hair that yielded quickly to a hairless abdomen, pulled taut against a flush navel; muscles working under ribs and pert nipples, mounted on a lean chest; a glimpse of underarm that didn't reveal if hair sprouted there or not; a soft young hand guiding my own cock into a young mouth. The totality of this sex act overcame me and I opened my mouth to moan, only to get another half-inch of Jim as a reward. That was enough for me to see stars as I clenched and shot and shot and shot. Jim's cough turned to a moan as I swallowed him completely and tried to pull him closer with his cheeks. Jim shot many more spurts than I, but I had him far enough back to make swallowing the only easy option. With my throat occupied, I breathed in his heady scent through my nose. Knowing that the next few moments would define this experience for Jim, I nursed his dick slowly while sending a hand to caress him firmly in widening exploratory circles. When Jim pulled off, I did same, and as we sat up I wrapped my arm around him in a manly half-embrace. I wasn't sure if Jim would take kissing as girly, and I didn't want the boy to feel like the fellatio was a threat to his masculinity. Releasing him, I rose and turned to give the boy another look, then grabbed my pants and tossed him his shorts. "You want to shoot some hoops, or you already have an appetite?" I asked. Jim smiled. "Playing with balls always makes me hungry," the boy replied. Let's see how hungry I make you next time, I thought to myself as we headed outside. I didn't know when that would be, but I knew how to be patient.