Date: Mon, 3 Jan 2005 06:24:06 EST
From: Justin0398@aol.com
Subject: Stonebridge Days 02 by Justin Davis (M/t, mast, oral, anal)

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 Two


It wasn't until later on, when I was in the shower, that I started
chuckling to myself at the encounter with Brandon that afternoon and how
uncomfortable I had been.  True enough, if I had been close to Brandon's
age I would have been trying to get him out of that yellow Speedo as fast
as I could.  Yet, I chuckled at myself because of how much like an older
adult I had acted and because I could imagine myself at Brandon's age
making some older guy squirm much as Brandon had done me.

After I had showered, and put on a fresh pair of shorts and a fresh tee
shirt, I sat in my leather lounge chair and watched the Business Channel
for a bit and was very pleased to see the Dow was up for the day.
Somewhere, between two sets of "talking heads" discussing future market
trends, I must have dozed off, for when I awakened it was almost 7 p.m.

Once I was fully awake, I had briefly entertained the idea of getting
myself decently dressed and going out to eat.  Yet, I don't like to eat
out alone.  So, noticing that HBO had a couple of good movies on back to
back, I opted for ordering a large pizza from the Pizza Hut nearby, mixed
myself a Scotch and soda, and settled down in front of the television to
await the arrival of the pizza.

It must have been about twenty or so minutes later when there was a knock
at the front door to of my apartment.  Naturally, I was pleased that my
Pizza was there so I picked up my wallet off of the end table and headed
for the door.

Once there, I undid the safety latch, unlocked the dead bolt, and opened
the door.

"How much--------"

"Hi!" Brandon said, and then smiled, holding out the pizza box he held in
his hands.

He was dressed in a yellow tee shirt and a brown pair of shorts, both of
which must have been three sizes too big for him, and a pair of Nike
sneakers that seemed to swallow his feet.

"I followed the delivery guy up here.  I already paid him for the pizza,"
he said.

"Uh, well thanks, Brandon.  You shouldn't have done that," I replied.

"I like pizza.  I thought maybe you and I could eat some and we could
talk some more," he said.

"Uh, I don't think that would be a good idea, Brandon.  Let me take this
inside and I'll pay you," I replied, taking the pizza box out of his
hands.

I carried the pizza box inside and laid it on the counter in the kitchen
and then turned to head back toward the front door.

"Geez!  You got it fixed up nice in here," Brandon said, standing just
inside the door and looking around at the living room.

"Thanks!  Now how much do I owe you for the pizza?"  I asked, opening my
wallet and heading toward where he stood.

"I really like pizza.  It smells good," he said, then looked at me with a
pair of brown puppy dog eyes that would melt the hardest of hearts.

"Look, Brandon.  It's after eight.  Your mom will be wondering where you
are," I said.

"Nah, she's out on a date."

"Okay, there's enough for both of us. Close the door!"

"Yessssss!"  Brandon exclaimed, and closed the door and promptly went
over and plopped himself down upon the couch.

"I'm gonna leave the pizza over here on the counter. You can help
yourself to whatever you want.  You want a Coke or something?"  I asked
from the kitchen.

"Yeah, that would be cool."

I moved over to the fridge, took out an unopened can of Coke, then went
over to where Brandon sat on the couch and handed it to him.

"Here yah go!"  I said, offering him the can of Coke.

"Thanks!"  Brandon replied, and reached and took the Coke and quickly
popped the tab and took a swig.

"Feel free to change the channel on the television if you want," I said,
realizing the movie I was watching, "Edward Scissor Hands," might not be
to his liking.

"Nah, that's okay.  I like Johnny Depp."

"Yes, he's a good young actor."

"Yeah, I think he's sexy."

"You think he's sexy?" I asked, stopping midway into the living room with
my plate of pizza.

"Well yeah, kinda," Brandon replied.

"I would think he would be a little old for you," I remarked, then sat
down in my leather lounge chair with my plate of pizza.

"Nah, I like older guys," Brandon replied, then, he got up off the couch
and walked into the kitchen and got himself a slice of pizza, taking a
bite as he walked back into the living room and then wiping a string of
melted cheese off of his chin as he sat back down upon the couch.

We watched the movie and ate, commenting a little here and there about
the scenes, and eventually, when Brandon had finished the last piece of
pizza, I had had only two slices, he got up off of the couch and
announced that he needed to go to the bathroom.

"It's right straight down the hall at the end," I said.

I took another sip of what remained of my Scotch and Soda and turned my
attention back to the television where the host was doing the promo for
the next movie that was about to begin.  In fact, I was so engrossed in
his explanation about the special effects that I didn't notice Brandon
come back from the bathroom.

"You think I look better without my swim suit?"  Brandon asked.

I looked toward his voice, and there stood Brandon stark naked, with his
left hand propped up on the door jam and his right hand on his right hip.

"Holy shit, Brandon!  You shouldn't be like that!  Especially not here!"
I exclaimed.

"Well do you?" he asked, and put both hands on his hips.

Indeed, Brandon looked lovely out of his swimsuit, and not separated by
twenty feet of courtyard.  I got a good look.  His circumcised penis,
which was at least four inches long in its flaccid state and was accented
by a low-hanging ball sac that contained a healthy set of balls, each one
of which was about the size of a small plum,  protruded from a hairless
groin.

"Yes, Brandon, you look nice.  Now go put your clothes on," I finally
answered, almost as if in a trance.

"Just nice?  Geez!"  Brandon replied, and folded his arms across his
chest.

Uncontrollably, I emitted a low groan.

"No, you look fantastic," I said.

As if my body was frozen, I sat in my chair.  My eyes were riveted upon
Brandon's groin as he walked toward the chair in which I was sitting.
Then, he crawled up into my lap and put his head on my shoulder.

"Brandon, this is wrong.  You need to get your clothes on and leave," I
muttered.

"Please hold me," he replied.

I looked down, and into Brandon's eyes.  What I saw there melted my
resolve, like snow in the Sahara Desert, and I wrapped my arms around him
and held him.

For awhile, the two of us sat still, me holding Brandon in my arms.
Then, his hand took hold of my chin and he turned my face toward his and
he moved his mouth upward toward mine.

As our lips met, what at first was a tentative kiss, quickly erupted into
a passionate one, as Brandon began to probe my mouth with his tongue.  In
return, I began to do the same to him, eliciting a low moan from him as I
did so.

"We can't do this!"  I exclaimed, having broken our mouth contact and
realizing that Brandon was not inexperienced at all.

"Please.  I want to.  I've done this before.  Lots of times," Brandon
replied.

"Brandon, we can both get into trouble.  I've tried to tell you--------"

"Shhh!" He said, holding his finger to my lips.

Almost feverishly, our mouths connected again and Brandon began to raise
the right side of my tee shirt with his hands.  Then, when it was up to
my armpit he broke contact with my mouth and swooped down, like an eagle
after a field mouse, onto my right nipple and closed his mouth around it.

"Oh God!"  I groaned, as he began to suck with his mouth and flick my
nipple with his tongue.

A thousand unanswered questions poured through my mind.  Where did this
kid learn this?  How the hell could a fourteen-year-old kid know anything
about sex with another male?  Those, and others, disappeared as a tidal
wave of lust washed over me. Thirty five years old and I became putty in
the hands of a fourteen year old that was so "hot to go" he would not be
denied. I assisted him, as he stripped off my tee shirt, all my
reservations cast aside like garbage.

He sampled my other nipple and I groaned loudly.  Then, he worked his way
downward toward my navel, eliciting moans from me as he did so.  He
explored that area with his tongue, and while he did so, began to
unbutton my shorts, which already were restraining my now rock hard cock.
I raised my hips and let him pull down my shorts for the reward he was
seeking, not a single thought left in my mind about why this shouldn't be
happening.

"Yesssssss!  "Brandon hissed, as my dick sprung free. "I knew I was
right!" he exclaimed.

Then, he looked up at me, smiled, took hold of my hard eight-inch member
with his hand, and lowered his head.

"Oh shit! Fuck!" I exclaimed, as his tongue began to swirl over the head
of my cock and he began to bob his head up and down upon it.

I don't remember at what point I realized that things were going way too
fast. I guess it was when I came to the realization that he knew what he
was doing.  I grabbed hold of his head with my hands and gently pulled
him off of my dick and stared into his eyes.

"If we're going to do this, Brandon, we're going to do it right," I said,
then stood up, picking him up in my arms.  I stepped out of my shorts,
which were down around my ankles, and I carried him back to my bedroom,
his arms wrapped around my neck all the time like some bride being
carried over the threshold.

I placed him on the bed and will always remember how Brandon looked lying
there as I stood looking down at him.  His tummy heaved up and down with
excitement and expectation.  His hard six-inch cock jerked with every
beat of his heart.  His eyes, those brown orbs, seemed as big as moons.

"You're so beautiful!"  I remember saying.

Brandon didn't reply.  He bowed his head as if he was embarrassed by my
comment.  Then, he looked back up at me and held out his arms.  I took
hold of his hands and he pulled me onto the bed toward him.

I could write chapters, maybe even volumes, about that first time, and
the second one the next morning, when Brandon appeared at my apartment
door again after his mother had gone to work. Yet, it would be difficult
to know what to say or where to begin.

How does one describe the deliciousness, even the devilish delight, of
devouring such a body with a mouth and tongue from his eyelids to his
toes? How does one adequately do justice to the moans, and squeaks, and
squeals, as one savors someone from their lips to their asshole and back
again?  How does one describe the flood of cum, the essence of teen that
fills your mouth as someone like Brandon frantically fucks your face and
cums?   How do you explain the sight of someone so young, and so
exquisitely perfect, hoisting himself across your thighs, taking your
cock in his hand, and then willingly impaling himself upon it?
The biting of the lower lip, the moaning, the almost frantic riding of
your cock as the Adonis hovering over you rides your cock and wanks his
dick.  The torrent of hot, teen, cum spewing all over your chest as you
blow your own load up the butt of beauty itself, who at the same time is
howling at the ceiling in ecstasy as you both cum together. It is
difficult to find the words to adequately describe the moment.

After those first two encounters, Brandon and I were like puppies in
heat.  Oh, he played it cool around the swimming pool.  He had really
understood what I had told him all along.  But, on Friday nights, or any
other time his mom was out on a date, the sexual performances that were
held were no longer in front of the patio doors.  They took place in my
apartment.

Over the remaining summer weeks, I found out a lot about Brandon.  Most
notably, that he had been having sex with both of his older cousins,
Chris and Danny, since he was eleven.  Considering the fact that Chris
and Danny were five years and seven years older than Brandon was, I could
understand why age didn't amount to much as far as Brandon was concerned.

As summer became Fall, briefly, I entertained the notion of moving and
ending the whole mad business.  Yet, those ideas were thrown to the winds
each time we made love.  I became addicted.

I became addicted to Brandon's long, blonde, hair as it splayed across my
lower stomach and groin while he devoured my cock like the pro that he
was.  I became addicted to the tight butt that strangled my dick, and
milked it like a milking machine when he had his anal orgasms.  Though
primarily a top, I became addicted to letting him fuck me for the pure
lust and joy of his almost girlish cries as he filled my insides with his
sperm.  I was lost.  Hopelessly lost, and drowned in a sea of sin that no
adult, or court, would ever understand.

"We can't do this anymore!  You need to go home," I'd say, when Brandon
would show up at the door.

"Why?" Brandon would ask, as he entered my apartment.

"It's wrong," I'd reply.

"Please suck me again," he would plead, pulling down his shorts and
revealing his beautiful, already hard dick, and ending the conversation.

As school started, I gave him a new pair of the most expensive and sought
after Nike tennis shoes. Two days later, the phone rang.

"Hello!"  I answered.

"Is this Ryan Morgan?" the female voice on the other end of the line
asked.

"Yes, this is he," I replied.

"Mr. Morgan.  I'm Sylvia Dorsey, Brandon's mom.  I think you and I need
to have a talk," she said.

My heart skipped a beat.  The game was up.  I was going to prison for
sure!

"Uh, Ms. Dorsey, I can't imagine why you would be calling me about
Brandon," I lied.

"Look! Cut the crap! I know where he got those damned tennis shoes!
Those damn things must have cost over one hundred dollars," she said.

"Uh, look, Ms. Dorsey.  I probably should have asked you first.  Brandon
is a nice kid and I just thought it would be a nice gift.  I'm sorry.  I
should have asked you first."

"Holy shit!  You're gonna keep it up.  Look!  Can I come over and talk to
you or not?"

"Uh, sure.  That's fine."

"Fine, I'll be there in a sec." she said, and hung up the phone.

If ever there was a time in my life when my life flashed before me it was
then.  I immediately regretted every second of my intimacy with Brandon.
Then again, I half-heartily laughed at the thought that those memories
would keep me company in prison, as I was being gang-banged by an endless
line of long, black, cocks.

The doorbell rang.  Slowly, I moved toward the front door as if the
executioner was on the other side and I was headed for the gallows. I
opened it.

I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised at the female who stood there
dressed in a white halter-top, brown shorts, and sandals.  I could
readily see where Brandon got his blonde hair and his brown eyes from,
along with his facial features, although the rest of her physical
appearance didn't seem to denote that she was Brandon's mom at all.  She
looked too young.

"Mr. Morgan?"

"Yes, I'm Ryan Morgan.  Please come in."

Brandon's mom entered and I closed the door behind her.

"Please, Ms. Dorsey.  Have a seat." I said, motioning toward the couch.

She ambled over to the couch.  The walk was familiar.  I had seen Brandon
walk that way many times before, another thing the two of them had in
common.

"I guess you're wondering why I want to talk to you?" she asked, as soon
as she had seated herself.

"Ms. Dorsey, I'm really sorry.  I should have asked you before I gave
Brandon the tennis shoes.  I do apologize." I said, as I sat in my lounge
chair.

"Look!  Fuck the shoes! I'm glad he got um!  That's not what I came to
talk about."

"Very well!  What did you come to talk about?"

"Look, Mr. Morgan. I've tried to raise Brandon as best I can.  His dad
ran off and left us when he was six.  I was hoping to have found someone
in the last eight years.  A good male influence for him.  But, all guys
seem to be the same."

"Please call me Ryan. I do understand. It can be very difficult to find
the right person."

"Oh cut the sympathy crap, Mr. Morgan, uh Ryan.  You know Brandon is
different."

"Yes, he is very smart for his age and very bright."

"Yes, and gay as hell!"

"Ms. Dorsey, I wouldn't have any way of knowing that," I lied.

"Bull shit!  You're gay!  He's gay!  Now, let me put it out on the table
so you know why I came here."

"Ms. Dorsey, I---"

"Will you shut the fuck up and let me say what I came hear to say!"

I closed my mouth.

"Look!  I know you and Brandon have been fooling around.  I'd have to be
stupid not to know from what I've heard from my friends around the pool
and all."

"Ms. Dorsey, I assure you---"

"Will you shut up and let me talk!"

Again, I closed my mouth.

"Do you like Brandon?"

"He's a very nice boy."

"Would you ever hurt him?"

"I would kill anyone that did."

"Fine, that is all I wanted to know."

"Ms. Dorsey, surely you don't think that I----"

Brandon's mom cocked her head, giving me the same look I had seen Brandon
give me on occasion over the last months.

"Mr. Morgan, Ryan!  You know, and I know, that Brandon is gonna do
anything he can with whomever he can.  If it's you, that's fine.  I don't
want to know what you two do or think about it.  You hurt him, though,
and I'll see your ass in prison in a second."

"I can assure you, Ms. Dorsey.  It was never my idea to even do anything
with Brandon.  I---------"

"Got caught up in him?  Yeah, it's easy to do.  His dad was like that.  I
fell head over heels for him. Even though he ran off and left us I still
love the son of a bitch."

"I didn't know."

"No, not many people do.  Look, you have my permission to have Brandon
over anytime you want.  I know how fags are, so better he's here with you
than down on some street corner or in some public restroom trying to get
his dick sucked."

"Ms. Dorsey, that is really crude!"

"Crude, Smood!  You guys do all kinds of weird shit.  Well, if Brandon is
hung out on that there's not much I can do about it, although I can see
why he probably goes for you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you ain't bad looking.  And, from the bulge in those shorts, I'd
say you're packing a good one.  Now, I gotta go.  You take care of
Brandon.  Don't hurt him.  Let him know about how fucked up the gay world
can be. I figure you got lots of experience."

"Yes, Ms. Dorsey.  I'm afraid I do.  Too much!"

"Fine!  Well, I'll be going.  Anything you want to give him is fine with
me.  I can't afford all that expensive stuff.  If you take him anywhere
just let me know where the two of you are going.  Protect him, Ryan.
Don't let him get hurt!"

"I'll protect him, Ms. Dorsey.  I promise."

It was not a promise that would be easy to keep!

To be continued