Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2005 11:58:58 EST From: Justin0398@aol.com Subject: Stonebridge Days 01 by Justin Davis (M/t, mast, anal play) The following story contains graphic sexual scenes between a young male and an older male. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law. This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. Additionally, the actions of the characters in this story are in no way intended to show approval of, or give sanction to, their actions. The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author. Positive comments are always welcome and you may e-mail them to Justin0398@aol.com Stonebridge Days By Justin Davis Chapter One "You looking at that picture again?" my lover Gerald asks me, as I examine the photograph that came enclosed in this year's Christmas card. "Yeah," I reply, holding it up to examine it closely once again. "How long have Brandon and Antonio been together now?" Gerald asks. "Three years now," I reply. "Well, I'm going to bed. I know you are gonna stroll down memory lane again. I can tell by the look on your face. Just hold me when you come to bed. Okay?" "Yes, love, I will. But, well, you know." "Yes, I know," Gerald replies, and heads off toward our bedroom. I sit looking again at the picture that was enclosed in the Christmas card, and I can't help but smile and think how quickly time flies and how things change. Brandon looks every bit a young man now, at twenty-four, and I can't help but marvel at how much the guy he has his arm around, Antonio, has matured to the same degree. The two of them have been steady lovers for three years now, and if there was any doubt that the two of them are in love the picture dispels it. Yes, Brandon has turned into a very good-looking young adult with not a trace of femininity about him. Yet, there was a time when that was not the case. As I set the picture down on the end table my mind can't help but wonder back. Gerald knows that. It always does. It seems like only yesterday. Yet, it was ten years ago. I had lived at the Stonebridge Apartment complex for about two weeks before I first laid eyes on Brandon. My company had transferred me to Orlando a month before and it had taken me almost the entire month to find a suitable apartment, especially during the summer at the height of the tourist season. Finally, feeling settled in and wanting to take advantage of the amenities, I had decided to enjoy the bright June sunshine and the large pool that dominated the central courtyard of the apartment complex. As is usually the case around the swimming pool in apartment complexes, there was the usual assortment of kids, parents, and singles all either lying around soaking up the sunshine or enjoying the refreshing water of the pool. Glancing around, I noticed a few empty lounge chairs, somewhat away from the others, and opted for one of those, not really caring that if I decided to jump into the pool and cool off I would have a little farther to walk. I guess I'd been reading my book for over an hour or so and had just laid it down beside the lounge, flipped back over on my stomach, and was just about asleep, when a young voice quite close by jarred me from slipping off into dreamland. "Mister! Uh excuse me mister! You wouldn't happen to have change for a five dollar bill would you?" a young voice asked. "Uh, huh? What?" I replied groggily, and rolled over to see who was talking. "I asked if you had change for a five dollar bill?" the kid asked again. I didn't immediately respond. Once my eyes focused, I was so taken aback by what I saw that I was speechless. Standing there before me, in a yellow Speedo swimsuit, was the most beautiful specimen of a young teen male I'd ever seen. The long, blonde, hair, which hung down to his shoulders, was almost bleached white from long hours in the sun. His dark, tanned, skin seemed to be only accented more by the yellow Speedo that he wore. His quarter-sized nipples were a dark, almost almond shade, while his tummy, was just beginning to show the signs of abdominal muscles, and the bright, blonde, almost white, peach fuzz only added to the beauty of his body. The kid was a living example of Donatello's bronze statue of David. Not quite boy, not quite girl, he was an androgynous mixture of both. Feminine waist, with feminine hips and long slender legs, he might easily been mistaken for a girl. Yet, if there was any doubt as to his sexual identify the bulge in the front of his Speedo was more than enough indication that this was a teen male who was developed far in advance of what his young and soft appearance would indicate. It was a sight to behold. "Change for a five dollar bill?" I finally asked, after I was able to speak. "Yeah, the soft drink machines over there seem to be out of change. I was wondering if you could break this five for me?" he replied, holding out a five dollar bill. "Uh, gee kid. I'm sorry. I left my wallet in my apartment," I said. "Okay, that's cool. Thanks away!" the boy said, and walked away from me toward some lady lying on a long chair across the way who obviously had her purse sitting on the pool deck beside her. For a moment I watched, as what had to be the tightest and most perfect butt in the world walked away from me resting atop a long, slender, pair of legs that seemed to propel it toward the heavens. It was only when he had gotten his five dollar bill changed by the lady and disappeared from view around the corner, and I had rolled back onto my stomach, that I realized my cock was hard, very hard. Again, I picked up my book and began to read. Fortunately, that was enough distraction, not only to get my mind back together, but other areas of my body as well. "You don't mind if I sit over here do you?" a recently familiar voice asked. I raised my head, turned it around, and saw that it was the kid in the yellow Speedo standing there with a canned Coke in his hand. "Uh no. You can sit anywhere you want. It's a free country," I replied, waving my hand around at the other empty chairs close by. "Cool!" He said, and promptly plopped himself cross-legged onto the lounge chair to my left, took a sip from his can of Coke, then flashed a smile, showing a set of perfect, white, teeth. "Watcha reading?" he then asked, motioning his head toward the book I held in my hand. "Well, it's a historical novel," I replied. "Oh, history stuff," he responded, as if I had told him I was reading a book about the mass murder of children. "You don't like history?" I asked. "Well, kind of, sort of. My history teacher was okay last year, she was fun and made it interesting, but this year my history teacher is a football coach and all he does is show films and videos." At that, I burst out laughing, having had more than one of those when I was his age. "So you live here?" he asked. "Yeah, about two weeks now," I replied. "Yeah, I thought you were new. I hadn't seen you around here before," he remarked. "Well, like I said, I just moved in two weeks ago." "What apartment?" he asked. "24 B," I replied. "Gee, that's the building right across from the one my mom and I live in. We live in 24 C." "That's nice!" I replied in a rather droll tone. The kid took another sip from his can of Coke, then stood up. "How old you think I am?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips. "Uh, I really hadn't given a thought about it," I replied, averting my eyes from the prominent bulge in his Speedo. "Come on, guess!" he insisted. "Uh, sixteen," I replied, knowing that that was way too old but feeling that my guess would boost his ego. "Oh, gosh no! I just turned fourteen," the five-foot two-inch tall imp responded. "I see. Well, you look older," I replied. "Uh, thanks. How old are you, mister?" he asked. "Well, I'm thirty five, and my name is not Mister, it's Ryan," I replied. "Mine's Brandon," he said. "That's nice," I replied, in a rather ho hum manner. "Thanks!" the kid said. "Look, Brandon. It's been a pleasure to meet you, but I really would like to get back to reading my book," I said, rather curtly. "Oh gosh! I'm sorry. You take care, man," he said, and quickly turned and sauntered off toward a crowd of boys about his own age down at the far end of the pool. It was about a week later that I saw Brandon again. I had gone out on the small patio of my apartment to check on the steak I was cooking on the new grill I had purchased. "Hey, Ryan!" a young voice hollered from across the way. I turned my head in the direction from wince the voice had come and was greeted with the site of Brandon, again dressed only in his yellow Speedo, smiling and waving at me across the courtyard. "Hello!" I shouted back, making a small waving motion with my free hand that didn't contain the metal tongs and then turned my attention back to the steak that was cooking on the grill. Over the next couple of weeks, I saw Brandon every time I went to the apartment pool. The kid seemed to live there. Any conversation usually amounted to a friendly hello or some question from him about what I was reading. Then, one Friday afternoon, he again plopped himself down upon an empty lounge chair just to my right as I was sunning myself. "Hey, Ryan. What's up?" he asked, the moment he plopped himself down, brushing his long hair back with both hands. "Uh, not much." I replied. "Ryan, can I ask you something?" "Uh, yeah sure." "Do you think I look too much like a girl?" "Why'd you ask that?" I said. "Well, some of the guys say with my long hair and all I look like a girl." "Uh, well. Not many guys wear their hair long these days. But, you most certainly couldn't be mistaken for a girl," I replied, thinking to myself that if nothing else the bulge in the kid's swimsuit should answer that question for anyone who had doubts. "Thanks!" he said, brushing his long, blonde, strands of hair back behind his ears so they hung down his back, and then smiled. "Don't mention it." I replied, and shifted my position somewhat upon the lounge chair. "Since you ain't readin anything you mind if I ask you somethin else?" "Sure, go ahead," I said, putting my hands behind my head and closing my eyes against the bright sunlight. "Why do you shave your stomach and chest?" he asked. "Huh?" I replied, opening my eyes quickly, startled by his question. "I was just wondering why you shave your stomach and chest?" "Uh, look, Brandon. That's kind of a personal question to be asking someone," I responded. "Hey, that's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was just wondering." "Well, if you must know, I do it because I think it looks good. All I leave is this," I replied, pointing to the dark brown trail that went downward from my navel to the top of my swim trunks. "That's cool. I shave my pubes. "Brandon, you shouldn't be telling anyone that, especially someone my age," I replied, shocked not only by the bluntness of his revelation but by the fact that my cock had immediately surged in my shorts as I mentally visualized what his obviously abundant equipment would look like protruding from a hairless groin. "Sorry!" he responded. "That's okay. Now I'd really like to get some sun," I said, and put my hands behind my head again and closed my eyes, hoping that the kid would go away. "Okay, yeah, sure. She yah later!" he said, and got up from the lounge chair. I opened my eyes again, briefly, and watched Brandon amble off toward the direction of some empty lounge chairs, then closed them again to enjoy the soothing warmth of the sun. As I lay there, again the mental image of a naked Brandon filled my brain. As it did so, my cock rapidly began to harden at the thought of what he actually must look like without even his yellow Speedo on. Mentally, I visualized him standing before me, his hands on his hips, his rigid penis jutting out from his smooth hairless groin. Quickly, I adjusted my now hard eight-inch cock in my swim trunks, and rolled over onto my stomach in order to hide the obvious tent that had developed in my trunks. Once I was satisfied that my cock had softened enough so as not to be obvious, I quickly grabbed my towel and headed for my apartment, taking note of the fact that Brandon was no where in sight among the other tenants about the pool. That evening, and although it was a Friday night, I didn't feel like going out to any of the clubs so I occupied myself watching a re-run of "The Beast Master" on HBO. Sated by the sight of all the loin cloths and exposed male flesh than I could stand, and mellowed out by more than a few glasses of Scotch and soda, I turned off the television, dimmed the living room lights, and headed toward the patio doors in order to close the drapes. Only then did I notice that the drapes that normally were closed over the patio doors in the apartment across the way were drawn open. Even though there was a twenty-foot expanse between my apartment and the one Brandon shared with his mom, I could clearly see him in the light moving around in the living room across the way. He was obviously watching something on the television, I could see the flicker but not the screen, and he seemed to be doing some strange dance around the living room. Mesmerized by the erotic nature of his motions, I quickly backed away from the patio doors and went over and dimmed the living room lights even more so that I was in total darkness. Naturally, total darkness afforded me an even better view of the strange goings on in the apartment across the way. The range of erotic motions increased and Brandon began to hunch his hips and wiggle his butt in time to whatever he was watching. It was when he slowly pulled off his tee shirt, his butt undulating in circular motions that it hit me what the kid was doing. "He's doing a fucking strip tease!" I exclaimed softly under my breath. The pace of my breathing increased, as did the pounding of my heart, as I watched the sexy imp strip his clothes off like a professional stripper. It was when he removed the last article that he wore, the ever-present yellow Speedo, that I glimpsed in reality what I had visualized in my mind. No yet hard, the kid's circumcised penis flopped about along with his plum-sized balls as he continued his erotic motions. Even at a distance, I quickly surmised that when erect his penis would have to be at least six inches in length, maybe slightly more, when it protruded from his bare groin. My mouth grew dry as Brandon began to wank his dick in time to whatever music he must be listening to, all the time undulating his butt and making hunching motions with his hips. Quickly, I re-positioned my leather-covered lounge chair so that it faced the glass doors. Then, I sat down to watch the show. Involuntarily, my hand reached into my shorts and I pulled out my hardening cock, and though separated by twenty feet or more, the youthful teen and I began to jerk off together. Occasionally, he would position his body so that he faced the glass doors of the patio full on so that he faced squarely in my direction. Finally, as I stroked my throbbing member, he remained in that position and began to fuck his hand with his dick, making sure that his hips moved forward and back with each thrust. I moaned in response, for it was as if he was fucking his dick at me across the courtyard. Soon, I noticed his face begin to contort. The motions of his hips become more frantic and his mouth opened wide in a silent scream, leaving me to imagine the sounds that were being emitted. Instantly, I felt the cum begin to boil up in my balls. Then, as cum splotches began to splatter on the glass doors across the way, for me that was all it took. hollered and shot the biggest load I had shot in years all over my face, chest, and stomach. Spent, I sat in the chair breathing heavily, and moaned, immediately wanting to cum again as Brandon began to lick up his cum that was now running in streams down the glass of the patio doors. For a month, every Friday night at midnight, the ritual would repeat itself. Yet, around the pool, or when I ran into Brandon in other places around the apartment complex, the kid gave no hint that he knew I was watching his performances. The second time, for the finale, the imp jerked off into his hand then lapped up his own offering as if he were a kitten lapping at a bowl of milk, my cries went unheard through the patio doors as I blew another load all over myself. The third time was even more dramatic, and I howled like a banshee and blew my load, as the kid did a head over heels upon the carpet and shot his own cum into his mouth. However, nothing could have prepared me for the fourth time. That Friday night, Brandon was especially erotic with his movements. They were much slower and seemed to be even more deliberate than before as he did his usual strip tease. Then, as he began to wank his dick, even that was slower and more prolonged. I gasped, when he disappeared from view, fearing that something had gone wrong or that I had been seen. Then, I uttered a soft sigh of relief as Brandon reappeared into view. "Holy shit!" I exclaimed, as I noticed the gleaming object he held in his right hand. It was a large cucumber all shinny and slicked up with what I did not know. I sat stupefied as Brandon did an erotic dance with the vegetable, inserting as much of it as he could into his mouth and rubbing it across his chest over his groin and up and down the length of his hard penis. My breathing became deeper and faster as I watched, not daring to hope what would be the ultimate destination of the slippery, green, object. There was no way! He couldn't! I wasn't sure if even I could, not having been fucked in years. Yet, indeed the finale for the evening became apparent soon enough. Standing and facing the patio doors, Brandon spread his long legs far apart and squatted down some. Then, taking hold of the slimy green objected with his right hand he moved it under him and toward where I couldn't believe he was going to let it venture. Pre-cum leaked from my cock like a faucet as the scene began to unfold before my eyes. In fact, I was afraid to even touch my cock for fear of shooting my load the moment I laid a hand on it. At first, there was just the slightest hint on the kid's face that something was amiss. Then, his mouth opened slightly and he bit his lower lip. I groaned in response, for I realized the tip of the green missile was beginning to invade his rectum. Ever so slowly, more and more of the thick, green, vegetable disappeared up the kid's hole as I watched. I noticed his legs began to tremble and his stomach began to heave steadily at the invasion, while his face contorted into a multitude of anguished expressions. Yet, he continued onward, pressing more and more of the slimy green object into his rectum until nothing was visible but the hand that had inserted it. Then, his eyebrows furrowing with each thrust and biting his lower lip, he began to fuck himself with the green tube with his right hand and masturbate his penis with his left. Soon, Brandon changed positions and lay down upon the floor, spread his legs wide with his feet flat upon the floor, and then began to fuck his butt and masturbate in that position. I had a clear few of his butt as he buggered his bottom, and as he did so he began to hunch his hips. I broke into a sweat at the lurid scene, a thousand questions running through my mind as to how it was possible that the fourteen-year-old was so intent on sodomizing himself. Yet, those thoughts were overcome by others that would have been unthinkable to me a month before. I visualized that it was my cock traveling in and out of the young boy's chute, rather than some slimy vegetable, and that his facial contortions were a result of my eight-inch rod traveling deep into his innermost regions. As I did so, I gripped my aching dick and began to masturbate in order to seek relief, much as young Brandon was doing across the way. It didn't take long for either of us to achieve our goal. Brandon's brows soon furrowed deeper, and then his mouth opened wide, in an obvious cry of pleasure unheard by me because of the glass doors. Seconds later, it was I that added my own unheard cry of relief, instantly blowing my load the moment Brandon started fucking his hips wildly and spraying sperm all over his upper torso. I didn't see Brandon at all that next week. It was as if the blonde-haired imp had fallen off the edge of the earth. Friday night came and I settled into my chair around midnight to watch the impending show, wondering what new feast the boy had for my hungry eyes. Midnight came and the drapes across the way remained closed. One o'clock came. Nothing! Two o'clock approached. No Brandon! My heart sank like a stone. Mentally, I admonished myself for my disappointment and for having such feelings and I went to bed, only to masturbate and blow my load some moments later visualizing the youth sucking my cock. "Hey, Ryan. What's up?" a familiar voice asked as I lay by the pool the following Saturday. "Well hello, Brandon. I thought maybe you had moved or something," I replied as I turned over and saw the youthful vixen standing at the foot of the lounge I was lying on dressed in the ever-present yellow Speedo. "Nah! Mom and I spent a week with my Aunt down in Miami," he said. "I see. Well, I hope you had fun." "Yeah, it was okay. Did you miss me?" he asked. "Well, yes. It did seem kinda strange around here not seeing you," I responded. "Cool! I'm glad you missed me. Hey, can I ask you something?" he said, and sat down on the end of the lounge, that golden body of his inches away from my legs. "Sure, go ahead," I replied. "Which did yah miss most, seeing me around the pool or watching me through the window?" he asked. My heart leapt into my throat at the boy's question. "I don't know what you mean," I replied. "Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that," he said, then placed his hand on my lower leg. The kid's touch of his hand against my skin was electric. It was as if someone had jolted me with a stun gun. "Look, Brandon. I don't have the slightest idea what you mean," I said, and moved my leg away from his hand. "Tell me, Ryan. Which did you enjoy most, me eating my own cum or putting the cucumber up my butt?" he asked bluntly, then smiled. Again, my heart skipped a beat. He knew! I was horrified. "Brandon! You shouldn't even be saying shit like that around me or anyone else!" I exclaimed. "Hey, it's okay. I know," he said, and placed his hand on my leg again. "I have no idea what you think you know. Now really, I must be going," I said, and began to get up off of the lounge chair to gather my things and beat a hasty retreat to the safety of my apartment. "I did all that for you, you know," he said in an almost disappointed tone as I rose from the lounge. I looked into his eyes. I knew he knew. He knew I knew he knew. I sat back down upon the lounge. "Look, Brandon. I could get into a lot of trouble even discussing such things with you," I said in a serious tone. "It was hot, huh?" he asked. What could I say? How could I answer him? "Yes, Brandon. It was hot. Now really, I don't think we should talk about this anymore, and I don't think you should be doing that stuff anymore," I replied. "You got off to it huh?" he asked, then grinned. "Brandon, look. I really gotta go. This has gone too far," I replied, and rose up off of the lounge again. "I can tell yah did. You did didn't yah?" he asked. I looked down at him. He had a look of expectation on his face, waiting for me to state the obvious. "Yes, Brandon. I'm ashamed to say that I did," I said. "Why should yah be ashamed? I did it for you and I knew you was watchin," Brandon said. What was I to say? How could I explain? I sat back down upon the lounge. "Brandon, you might get in some sort of trouble for what you did. You might get grounded or punished in some other way. Either way, what could happen to me would be far worse. I could go to jail, maybe even prison," I said. "For just watching me do something I was doing because I wanted to?" he asked. "Yes! It's your age, Brandon. The laws don't take too kindly to men that have anything to do, of a sexual nature, with boys your age." "That's stupid!" "Well, whether or not you think it's stupid doesn't matter. The fact is, I could get into a whole lot more trouble than you." "You don't like me, huh? You think I'm just an ugly little kid or somethin." At his words, my mind became overwhelmed with a multitude of conflicting emotions. I groped for a rationale response. It wasn't. "Oh Christ, Brandon! I think you are absolutely the most beautiful boy I ever laid eyes on in my life!" I blurted out, unable to control the undeniable truth from pouring out of my mouth. "I really knew yah didn't think I was ugly or nothin. I was just teasing yah," he replied, then grinned. "Look, Brandon. I really have to go. This has gone way too far!" "Can't we just sit and talk. Nobody is gonna think you're doing nothing out here," he said, rolling his eyes and motioning at the entire pool area with his hand. "Brandon, you see that lady over there?" I asked, motioning my head toward a blonde lady lying on one of the lounge chairs on the other side of the pool. "Yeah, so what?" "Well, she has been very intent on watching you and me." "She's reading a book," Brandon responded, having looked over toward her. "Well, when she thinks neither of us is noticing her see is very much watching you and me. Does she know your mom?" I asked. "Yeah, I think so," Brandon replied. "Then, that's my point. I suspect it won't be long before your mom asks you who the man is at the pool you've been talking to. Then, what are you going to say?" I asked. "Gosh, I don't know," Brandon replied, shrugging his shoulders. "You see my point?" "Yeah, I guess so," Brandon responded, a dejected tone in his voice. I gave my apologies and excused myself for the final time that day feeling comfortable that Brandon understood what I had explained to him. I was wrong! To be Continued.