Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2008 11:39:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around  Chapter Seventeen

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is
not the story for you.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.

NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and
editing the chapters.  He also likes to send me long emails regarding
appropriate use of commas and periods.  Want to read a couple of good
stories?  Try "Never Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give".  They
are both excellent.


Chapter Seventeen: Second Time Around


There is something inherently relaxing about ocean waves breaking gently on
the shore.  Whether it is the steady rhythm or the smell of the fresh salt
air, or a combination, is hard to say.  What I could say is that it is far
from the hectic pace of the financial markets and New York.

Everyone was up early Sunday morning.  Bob would be leaving to head back to
Tampa.  Bonnie would be staying with Mother for the week, helping to put
away Christmas decorations and clean the house.  The big item, of course,
was that this was the day that I would take the boys to Patty's guest house
on the beach.  We had four very hyper teens ready to go; after breakfast,
of course.

Saturday night, Michael had rejoined me in my bed.  There was no sex or
foreplay.  He was as hyper as the other three and just wanted to talk about
what we could do in the coming week.  He asked so many questions about the
beach, the weather, how many people would be at the beach, the house, the
privacy.  That question I thought to be interesting.  He wanted to know if
it was a private back yard.  I assured him that it was because Patty had
planted a hedge along the sea wall.  You could sit in a chair and look out
over the beach, but there was about an eight foot drop down to the sand.
Any one standing on the beach had to look up and, if the person in the yard
was standing, could only see from about chest height up.  I smiled, knowing
what my boys had in mind.  Saturday night we just talked and he spooned
into the front of me.  I held my older son and we slept soundly.

When we reached Patty's, the boys quickly gathered up their suit cases and
boards.  They didn't bother with the front door, but immediately ran around
the house to see the backyard and beach.  They weren't disappointed.  Patty
inherited the house from her mother.  The inheritance included a nice
stretch of ocean-front land both north and south.  It was a quarter mile in
either direction to a public access to the beach.  Around the access to the
south, storms had washed a good bit of the beach away and the lots just sat
covered in palmetto, sea oats and dunes.  To the north, the first two homes
were closed up.  The boys had what was about as close to a private beach as
anyone could hope for.

I walked the boys through the house.  I had to laugh when, upon entering
the kitchen, the first thing Frank did was check out the refrigerator; I
checked the pantry.  After explaining to the boys that we write down what
we used or ate and made a trip to the store before leaving, to replace what
we used, I could see that their patience was growing a little thin.
Satisfied that there was plenty of food, the boys just wanted to hit the
beach and try out their new boards.  The message was that I could handle
the details and they would handle the fun.

With the boys at the beach, I walked out to what appeared to be a garden
shed.  I say appeared to be, because it was actually a large walk-in
refrigerator-freezer well stocked with meats and booze.  Patty was one of
those people that thought if you were at a party, particularly one hosted
by her, you weren't having a good time if you didn't have a drink in your
hand.  Someone had already put a couple of six-packs of Coors in the house
and I saw there were a couple of cases in the shed.  With refreshment in
hand, I lay back on a chaise lounge near the sea wall to enjoy a sandwich
Mother had made for me.

The afternoon sun felt good as its warm rays shone down.  I smiled to
myself thinking about our home in New York.  This was different, way
different, than getting bundled up in down-filled parkas, snow boots,
gloves, and long johns.  Why on earth did I ever leave this?  The sound of
the ocean, sea gulls squawking as they flew overhead, and the sound of kids
having fun.  I sat up and peaked over the hedge.  Four teenage boys were
trying to ride their skim boards.  Hands and feet flew through the air.
They looked like something out of the Keystone Cops, but their laughter
said they were having fun.  A few shots with a digital camera and I lay
back down.  I wondered what David was doing.

                                           * * * *

"Dad!  Hey, Dad!"  I recognized Frank's voice.  "Wake up.  It's time ta
eat."

Wake up?  Floating through that semi-comatose and semi-awake stage where
you are aware of most things going on around you, but nothing registers, I
looked up at the sky.  This time of year, the sun normally set around six
or, possibly, a few minutes earlier.  The sun was still too high for it to
be anywhere near six; but it had moved lower in the sky.

"What are you guys up to?  It's not supper time yet."

"Supper?  Dad, we'd never make it to supper.  We wanted to grab a snack but
weren't sure what was okay to take.  Sean and Eric thought we should just
grab a piece of fruit and let you sleep."  Frank began to laugh. "That
musta been some dream with the smile you was wearin'."

"Yeah, and the tent in your pants, too," Mike added, really enjoying
himself.  Sean and Eric looked a little embarrassed but also, as though
they were enjoying this bantering.  I wondered what they would think if I
hung these two boys upside down in the closet and closed the door.

"Okay, smart mouths.  Let's go inside and maybe the best thing to do is
separate snacks from meals in the fridge." I stopped them at the
door. "Hold it, fellas.  Use the outside shower and rinse the sand off your
feet before coming in."

"Dad!  That's cold water!"  You'd think I had just told Mike to castrate
himself.

My two sons, who thought they were being cute, had interrupted a nice
dream.  I was reliving the weekend with David in St. Pete, which probably
explained the tent Michael so readily observed.  We were right at the point
where he slipped that little vibrator in my butt.  God, did it feel good.
The part where he straddled my lap early one morning and impaled himself
was pretty good, too.  It was probably the warm sun shining on me, like it
did that morning, that had brought on that thought.  I needed to return to
my chaise and pick up where I was interrupted.

The afternoon snack consisted of crackers with cream cheese and pepperoni;
plus drinks, of course.  The afternoon entertainment consisted of me
listening to them tease each other about the number of times each one of
them fell before being able to get a decent ride.  I had to laugh as they
described all the hands and feet flying through the air, followed by a
bouncing boy.  From the sound of things, there would probably be a fair
number of bruises and sore muscles at some point during the night.  When
the food consumption slowed, I suggested they go back and have some more
fun.

"Dad, it's gettin' too cool to be out there without a shirt."

"Soooooo...," I answered, thinking what I thought to be obvious.

"We can't wear our new shirts out there, they'd get messed up."

"Have any of you thought about the fact that the new shirts will get messed
up at some point in time?"

"Yeah."  Here came the reasoning of my younger son. "But s'pose we wanna go
somewhere and need to wear the shirt that's messed up and don't have time
for you to clean it?"  I was sure there was some logic in that statement,
somewhere, but I got hung up on me doing the cleaning.  When did they
forget how to use a washer?

"Why do we seem to think that I would be the one to clean them?"

"'Cause you're the one that said we had to wear 'em out there where they
got messed up."  Not even Frank could keep a straight face with the
absurdity of that statement.

"I got an idea," Eric chimed in to save Frank, or maybe it was me, "how
'bout we get in the hot tub?"

That idea was popular enough that all four of them managed to lose their
swimsuits before they finished answering.  They were out the door just
about as quickly.

Mother had packed up some of the Christmas dinner leftovers and made a
couple of casseroles for us.  I wasn't sure if she was trying to make
things easier for me or protect the boys, but I wasn't complaining either.
However, I knew I had had just about all the leftovers I wanted and pulled
out some steaks.  We also had some steak fries and salad makings in the
fridge.  Dinner would be easy.

That first beer I pulled out managed to go both warm and flat before I
could drink it; a second was definitely in order.  With the boys in the hot
tub I decided I better pull out some towels.  I knew that Patty kept an
ample supple in a small chest on the patio.  I also decided it was time to
join the boys in the hot tub.

"Okay, guys, shift around.  I'm comin' in."

"Oh, brother," Frank was getting ready to start in, "here comes the old
man.  Fun's over now."  It was always easy to know when Frank had a
mischievous streak going.

"Hey, Dad," Frank was beginning, "you know when you were sleepin' while
ago?  Did you know you talk in your sleep sometimes?  Who's David?"

"Ooooooooo," Eric took his cue from Frank, "Uncle Rick was dreamin' 'bout
David and got a rod goin'."  I looked right at Eric and curled my finger
for him to come to me.

"That's okay, Uncle Rick; I was just teasin'.  Really, that's all."  Eric
looked as though he wasn't too sure what he should do as I kept curling my
finger for him to come to me.

"Oooooooo, Eric, bud, yore ass is done for now!" Sean chided.

"No, Uncle Rick, really, I'm sorry, I was just teasin'.  I'm sure David's a
real nice guy . .  .really."  I still curled my finger for him to come to
me.

"Eric, you better get your butt over there," Mike advised, "if he has to
reach for you, you are really gonna be in some deep, deep do-do."

Eric looked like he wasn't sure he wanted to come to me.  The other three
were smiling and having a good time.  Eric wanted to be part of the group;
he was about to get initiated.  When he came to me I turned him around and
sat him between my legs.  Then, I pulled both of his arms back by his
elbows and ran my left arm in from his left side, getting a good grip on
his right arm.  His arms were now pinned behind him and he really looked
like he wasn't too sure he was liking this, even though the other boys were
still laughing.

"Eric, do you know what the number one rule of teasing is?"

"No, sir."

"'Sir'; that sounds good.  The number one rule is that you be sure the
person you're teasing doesn't mind the teasing."  While I talked to him,
keeping my mouth close to his ear, I ran my thumb up and down his rib cage
just hard enough to make him wiggle.  "Do you know the number two rule?"

"No, sir."  With the other boys laughing, he was now having a hard time
controlling his own laughter.

"It's don't hand it out unless you're willing to take it."  My thumb
pressed a little harder into his ribs and he squirmed a little harder.  "Do
you know the number three rule?"

"Uhhh . .no, sir, not really."

"Well, that's the easiest to remember.  It's protect the valuables!"  At
which point I wrapped my right hand around his scrotum and held him firmly.

"Oh God!  Oh fuck!  He's got my balls!"  He arched his back, laughed and
yelled out so hard, and squirmed that I had to be careful he didn't hurt
himself.

"Frank!  Mike, help me.  Sean, c'mon guys, he's gonna crack my nuts!  My
poor jewels!"

The other three were too busy laughing to give him any help.  They might
have given his pleadings some credibility if he hadn't been laughing so
hard.  Of course, those three were sadistic enough they would more likely
encourage me to torment the poor kid even more.  I had to whisper in his
ear for him to settle down before he hurt himself.  I set my beer down and
used my right hand on his stomach to settle him down.  When he settled
down, I let my left hand circle him to keep him where he was and let my
right hand slide under the water.  I could feel him tense and then relax
when I gripped his pride and joy and began a steady rhythm of squeezing.

The boys pointed fingers at him and mocked him for the way he yelled out.
There were cries of "my balls, my balls" and all the boys laughed.  I
laughed with them and whispered in his ear to ask him if he felt alright.
He always nodded his head and kept his hand over my squeezing hand.  It
didn't take long before Sean recognized that familiar look on Eric's face.

"Eric, what are you doin', man?"

"It's not me," Eric answered with that funny shit-eatin' grin that says
he's really enjoying himself, "it's Uncle Rick.  You wouldn't believe what
he's doin' ta me."

Frank and Sean tried to move the bubbles and foam away so they could see
what was happening under water.  Mike answered their question.

"I know what he's doin'.  Same thing I been doin'."  With that, Mikey
raised himself up to reveal Little Mikey standing at full mast.  Frank then
rose to show that his hands hadn't been idle, either.  Just then, Eric let
everybody know what was happening.

"Ohhh . . .oooohhhhh . . .uuunnngghhhhh. . .yeah, oh fuck
. . .mmmmmpppphhh!" Eric tensed and began to whimper between gasps for
breath.

"Ohhh, man!  Eric spunked the tub."

While everyone was being so observant, Eric was enjoying his orgasm.  He
was also humping his little butt right on top of my manhood and had me real
close.  When he settled down and started laughing at the other boys,
particularly Frank and Sean who were still tryin to reach their peak, I
placed my hands on his hips and moved him forward and back.  Eric picked up
real quick and flexed his butt as he moved.  I had to hold him and bury my
face in his neck as I experienced a little male pleasure and spunked the
tub.

The boys all looked at each other and laughed, sounding a little
embarrassed, but funny at the same time.  They had just had their first
ocean-front circle jerk, and with the old man leading the way, to boot.

Leaving the boys in the hot tub to entertain themselves, I decided to blend
together a little marinade for the steaks.  We always believed that a good
steak should be savored and not smothered in herbs or marinades that would
cover the true flavor.  These steaks were prime cut and about an inch and a
half thick; when cooked, they should still be about an inch thick.  I knew
that Patty always had most of her meats cut so the steaks would run between
nine and twelve ounces which is plenty for a meal.  I blended some butter,
lemon juice, garlic salt and freshly ground black pepper for these
beauties.

The second secret to a good grilled steak is to cook them on a hot grill.
Too often have I been to a cook-out where the host will fire up the grill
and put meat on in a matter of seconds; not good.  A steak needs to be
seared on the outside to hold the juices and flavor in and I believed in
being patient enough to do it correctly.

"Hey, Mr. G, can we help?"  Sean could always be relied upon to offer.  He
climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel, the other three right
behind him.

"Think you can handle putting together a salad?"

"Sure thing, Mr. G.  Stuff in the fridge?"  I just nodded in response.

"What can we do?"  Frank jumped in right behind Sean.

"How about one of you pulling the steak fries out of the freezer and laying
them out on a baking sheet.  Just follow the instructions on the package
for cooking."

"Hey, Dad?" Frank adjusted to his innocent voice. "Can we have a beer?"  I
wondered how long that would take.

When I looked up there were two boys, Frank and Sean, running around the
kitchen with a towel wrapped around their waists.  I was happy about that
because the idea of having pubes in my salad and fries didn't appeal to me.
Mike and Eric had their towels tossed over their shoulders.

"Look on the freezer door and you should find frosted mugs.  The four of
you can split two beers."  I wondered how many they would really split, but
didn't say anything.

"All right!"  I made Eric's day.  "What can I do to help, Uncle Rick?"

"How about bringing me the steaks and then you and Mike can help set the
table out here."

Concentrating on the grill and steaks, I pretty much ignored the boys for a
short while.  I could hear them laughing and carrying on about something,
but that was normal for them.  When I did look into the kitchen, Frank and
Sean had a modified game of horseshoes going using the steak fries.  They
were taking turns tossing the fries on to the baking sheet.  I had no idea
how they determined who won or lost and didn't ask.

Within a few minutes, and some teamwork, we were sitting at the table
enjoying dinner.  By this time, all four boys had managed to lose their
towels; I was the only one with a towel still wrapped around my waist.  It
was close to sundown and the air was getting cooler.  The boys were getting
chilled but didn't say anything; however, their nipples reacted to the cool
air.

"Hey, Dad," there was Frank's mischievous tone again, "you still didn't
answer our question."

"What question?"

"Who's David?  You were sleepin' on the chaise and had this funny lookin'
grin on your face and kept repeatin' his name."

"Yeah, and you musta been gettin' a good boner, too, 'cause your pants was
gettin' tented real good."  Mike laughed as he added in his details.  Sean
and Eric looked like a combination of embarrassed and amused; they also
were waiting for my reaction.

"He's just a friend, although I can't imagine why I would be saying his
name in my sleep."  No way did I want to explain to them right now who
David really was.

"Must be a real good kinda friend," Frank responded, smiling like a little
devil.  "I don't have many friends that'd make me tent like that."  A stern
look shut him up; a look that wasn't lost on the others who were having a
hard time controlling themselves.

"Dad?"  Michael decided to jump in; he sounded more than just a little
hesitant.  "You remember the promise you made all of us?  Well, it's just
us here now and it's private and we have some time, so I thought that maybe
. . . . well, you know."  This set-up was just too good to pass.

"I'm not so sure.  Know what?"

"Daa-ad," the whiney voice, looking for a bailout, "you know.  You promised
to show us . . .uh, teach us how to do it without gettin' hurt."  I wanted
to ask him for a definition of 'it' so bad it almost hurt.  "You know, when
we were in St. Pete and then there's that promise you made us make back
home." Then his expression changed.  "Did Eric have ta make that promise,
too?"

"What promise?" Eric asked before anyone could volunteer him for anything.

This whole thing was turning into a very entertaining dinner for me.  I
knew exactly what Mike was referring to, but seeing him squirm and sweat a
little was just too good to pass up.

"Dad made us promise not to let anyone fuck us and we couldn't fuck anybody
else before he said it was okay."  Eric turned more than a little pale.  I
thought he might hyperventilate on me.  The only thing that I regretted was
not having a tape recorder going at the moment.

"No."  Eric was breathing, anyway. "I knew that Uncle Rick let us kinda
fool around some, doin' what all boys like ta do, but I don't remember
talkin' 'bout takin' it up the butt.  When's he gonna say we can try it?"
Eric sure made a quick recovery even if he did talk like I wasn't sitting
next to him.

"Obviously, this is a topic the four of you have discussed before we sat
down for dinner."  That statement got me four guilty looks. "You know
there's a lot more to it than losing your cherry.  Eric, maybe I didn't
make you give me the promise, but consider yourself in the same position as
those three.  I'll give the four of you a hint and you let me know when you
figure it out.  Think about a side show at an old fashion circus or fair."

The hint got me four confused expressions.  It also got them to be quiet
while I continued to enjoy my dinner.  Interestingly, all four of them
stopped eating while they tried to figure out the clue.  Sean was the first
to show us his 'I got it' grin; I looked at him and waited.

"I hadn't seen it, but I've seen the pictures on some old timey posters.
You're talkin' 'bout the sword swallower."  I just looked at him and
grinned.  Michael still looked confused.  "You're talkin' 'bout deep
throatin' somebody."

"Better finish eating your dinner before everything gets cold," I told them
as I excused myself and took my plate inside.

While I rinsed my plate, cleaned off the counter and started filling the
dishwasher, I peeked outside at the boys.  The four of them were sitting at
the table saying a little something to each other.  Their expressions told
me exactly what they were planning.  I ignored them and helped myself to
another beer while I watched the news.

                                           * * * *

A warm shower, a terry robe and a good book.  Coming out of the shower I
could hear the boys.  The grunts, the jibes, the laughter, the teasing
comments and the moans.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out
what they were doing, or trying to do.  I smiled to myself as I pictured,
in my mind's eye, each one of them gagging, being teased, and with a boy's
determination to save face, trying again, and gagging again.  Escaping to
the patio, I settled in a chair to read a little before retiring.

The waves rolled in on the beach.  The heavy night air carried the sounds
to me; at night, they sounded closer, stronger.  There was a half-moon out
that shone on the white foam capping each wave.

Reading had always been one of my favorite relaxing past-times.  Since I
first entered high school, I allowed time to read for a few minutes before
trying to fall asleep.  To me, escaping into a fictitious world, created
through the writer's fertile imagination erased many of the worries and
concerns of everyday life.  My rule was to read until I began to feel a
little tired and then read some more until I ended a chapter on an upbeat
note or message.  I never cared to end my nightly reading with someone
getting hurt, unless it was the villain, or killed.  It had to end on a
happy note.

When I found the upbeat message to end the reading for the evening, I set
the book aside.  Walking up to the hedge I looked out over the waves.  The
smells, the sounds, the serenity of it all, was intoxicating.  I smiled as
I remembered having Michael here as a toddler.  It was a cookout on a
Saturday afternoon.  Patty was a magnet for kids, and Michael was no
exception.  Before I knew what was happening, Patty had stripped him and
was escorting him down to the beach to play in the water.  Patty had just
kicked off her shoes.  Kathy and I stood and watched and listened.  You
could hear Michael's squeals of delight all up and down the beach.

Smiling at the memories, I walked down the steps and onto the beach.  There
was no one around, not even a light could be seen in any of the houses
along the beach.  Walking towards the water, I dropped the robe and
proceeded to walk into the waves.  The water was cold, I mean COLD.  Any
southern boy in his right mind would have turned tail and run out of that
water; I didn't.  I waded in waist deep and turned my back to let the waves
break against me.  It felt good.

It didn't take long for the extremities to begin to feel numb and I knew it
was time to get out.  Trotting back towards the house to help get the
circulation moving, I slowed only long enough to grab my robe.  When I
reached the steps and looked up, I spotted a very naked young boy named
Eric standing there watching me; he was grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you grinning about, kid?"

"You, Uncle Rick.  Mom always said you were full of surprises and I
shouldn't be shocked by anything you do."

"She say anything else?"

"Yeah, she said I didn't need to tell her everything you do or we do,
either."

"Smart mom; listen to her." I paused a moment to see if he would tell me
why he was outside instead of with the boys.  When we got near the house
and I could see him better, I had to laugh.

"Eric, is that what I think it is all over the front of your body?"  He
blushed a vivid crimson.

"Pro'bly," he grinned, "I got elected to find you and ta talk you into
givin' us some help."

"What kind of help?"  I didn't think it possible, but he turned an even
deeper shade of crimson; and grinned sheepishly.

"Well, you might say we've been playin' the sword swallower game.  Problem,
is nobody's been able to swallow the sword, but everybody's gotten worked
up and helped put out the fire."

"In other words, four horny teens have been trying to deep-throat one
another, without success, but you did a pretty good job of getting worked
up enough to cum all over yourselves.  Is that a pretty good summary?"

"Yes, sir."  This kid was acting so innocent that I really wanted to hug
him.  I did put my arm around his shoulder as we walked inside.

We didn't go straight to the boys' room.  I told him that I was still cold
and needed to take a warm shower first.  I saw the look in his eyes and
wasn't sure if it was disappointment, thinking I wasn't going to talk with
them, or if it was a yearning.  I put my arm back around his shoulder and
guided him into the bathroom.  When we reached the shower and I turned on
the warm water, I turned around to see him grinning like a Cheshire cat.
All this kid wanted was to know that someone cared and I was willing to bet
his dad hadn't even patted him on the back in ages; the asshole.

Standing under the warm water, I let my body warm up a little and let
everything fall back into place.  Then I turned him around and into the
water.  He nearly melted when I poured some shower gel on him and started
bathing him just like I do my own boys once in a while.  I made it a point
to be sure that he enjoyed every touch and every moment.  When I ran a
finger down and through the valley of his butt, he whimpered.  I turned him
around, with his back to the wall.

"Ready for lesson one of Boy Pleasure 101?"  The look on his face said he
thought he had died and gone to heaven.

I pulled him close so that his body was fully pressed against mine.
Nuzzling his neck, I nibbled his soft flesh; he whined.  My hand moved
slowly down his back and my hand cupped his cheek; I squeezed and he
whimpered.  Pulling back, I nuzzled the other side of his neck and nibbled
his ear lobe; he moaned.  My tongue entered his ear and he became a steady
stream of whimpers and moans.  When my finger touched his virgin anus, he
tried to wrap a leg around me.  Moving my hand, I cupped his scrotum and
the stroked his very erect boyhood.  It was a good thing I had a firm grip
on him.

To Eric's shock and dismay, I didn't bring him to the point of orgasm, but
let him stay suspended in need.  Turning off the shower, I reached for a
towel and dried both of us.  I did whisper in his ear that he needed to
trust me.  He stood still moving only when I touched him, and indicated
what he needed to do.  Eric had become my very obedient and docile little
puppy.  After giving his now very sensitive boyhood and couple of light
strokes, I gently wrapped my hand around his protrusion and led him to the
boys' room and entered.

The room was saturated with the smell of boy sex.  We walked in just in
time to see Sean gag again on Frank's boyhood.  Sean had a look of shock
when he realized I was standing there.  Mike looked disappointed, but I
didn't think it was because of my presence.

"Are you boys having a problem?"

"Dad, there's no way."  Frank sounded a little frustrated.  "We try to push
it down Sean's throat and all he does is gag.  That's all any of us do.
Why does it look so easy in the movies?"

"Well, first, I'd say you haven't just been gagging.  The way Eric looked
when he found me, and the smell of this room, and the way the three of you
look now, I'd say you've been getting more than just a little excited.
Maybe you didn't get it down anyone's throat, but you sure found a way to
have fun.  Right?"  The looks were priceless.

Standing there, I had kept an arm around Eric's waist and was teasing the
side of his butt with my fingertips.  It had the desired effect of keeping
him on edge and very erect.  Placing him in front of me, I went down on my
knees.  Placing my hands on either cheek to keep him steady, I licked and
nibbled along the 'v' crevasse formed where torso meets leg.  Eric gasped
between clenched teeth.  The other boys moved a step back to view the whole
scene.

Eric was ready and I knew it, but since I was putting on a show for the
boys, I thought I would make it worthwhile.  When I moved down the crease
and was next to his scrotum, I switched over and licked his sac, along the
center seam, from the back to the base of his boyhood.  I then licked
around the sides and finished by sucking first one orb and then the other
into my mouth.  It was a minor miracle that Eric didn't blow his total
package then, from the sounds he made.  After nibbling up one side, down
the other and back up the underside of his penis, I paused and told the
boys to watch carefully because this is what they wanted to accomplish.

I kissed the glans and then flicked my tongue over the edges.  Opening my
mouth, I pushed him into me.  Poor Eric was lost in another world and I had
to help support him.  When I felt him near the gag point I took a breath,
relaxed, and swallowed.  It took a couple of tires, but my nose soon
touched his pubes.  I could hear the exclamations coming from the other
boys over the sounds of more than one boy pumping away on his own aroused
pole.  Eric stood on tiptoes, doing the little boy dance as he whined and
whimpered.  His whimpers sounded as though he was pleading with me to stop
inflicting the sensuous torture on the center of his teen universe, but at
the same time, inflict more.

I backed off and ran my tongue around the head again while he was still in
my mouth.  Taking a breath, I pushed him back in and swallowed.  I held him
in this time and kept swallowing, allowing my throat muscles to work their
magic on this inexperienced teen.  He kept dancing on tiptoes and I could
soon tell he wasn't going to be able to hold back.  Trying to time it
right, I let him slip out of my throat so I could breathe and enjoy the
taste of his youthful fluids.  I was a little disappointed because I had
expected more volume; but it was sweet.  When he finished, I guided Eric to
the edge of the bed and bid the other three boys, now wearing stunned
expressions and panting from their own orgasms, good night.

                                           * * * *

The hand had a light grip on my shoulder as it shook me.  I heard Eric call
me, his voice sounded almost frightened.  That worried me; maybe I had gone
too far with him.  I did go far enough that it surprised even me.  Since
when was I into putting on sex shows?

"Can we talk a minute?"  I lifted the covers for him to lie down.  He lay
with his back to me, using my left arm as a pillow.  I wrapped my arm
across his chest and felt him hold onto me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir.  I just wanted to say thanks."  He held my arm tighter and I
could swear that he might be crying.  "The guys told me that you said you'd
teach 'em 'cause you didn't want them to learn on the streets and maybe get
hurt.  My dad would never teach me anything like that.  My dad won't even
hug me and tell me he loves me.  Will you teach me like the other guys?"  I
wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into me.  I gave him a
little squeeze as I kissed the back of his neck and he fell asleep.

When I was a teenager I wondered about a lot of things, but there was no
way that I would ever ask my dad.  I was also afraid to ask my friends; I
didn't want to look stupid.  I remained ignorant and confused.  Many people
either don't or won't recognize that the teen years are among the hardest
years for any boy.  He's trying to change from boy to man, looking for his
identity, his strengths, to define who and what he is.  When he's afraid,
he can't admit it.  When he's sad, he can't show it.  It isn't masculine.
All these boys wanted was for someone to let them know they were loved,
that they would receive guidance, and they could be secure, with themselves
and the world around them.

My boys would not, if there was any way I could help it, grow up in their
own personal hell.  They would be loved, they would be secure.  All of
them.

End Ch Seventeen
To Be Continued

Comments welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com