Date: Sat, 8 Jan 2005 06:10:56 EST From: Justin0398@aol.com Subject: Stonebridge Days 04 by Justin Davis (M/T, M/M, 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 Four On the particular Saturday that I first met Gerald, the boys and I had gone to the area of beach in CoCo called "Picnic Tables" by the local surfers, and had I spread out the blanket and set up the lounge chairs on a vacant spot of beach. The boys had waxed their boards and headed out into the three-foot surf and I had settled down into one of the chairs and was reading and editing some papers from the office that I had brought with me when a voice distracted me. "Are you grading something?" a voice asked. I looked up from the papers and was greeted by the site of a very attractive guy, I guessed in his mid- twenties. The first thing that caught my attention was his dark tan and long blonde hair, which he had tied into a ponytail that hung down his back. The second, was how good his long, tanned, legs looked in the cut off blue jean shorts he was wearing. "Uh, no! Some work from the office," I replied. "Oh, I see. I thought you might be a professor or something." "No, I'm not a professor for sure," I replied, then chuckled. "Well, my name is Gerald Bradford. I teach art at the local community college. Pleased to meet you---uh----," he said holding out his hand. "Ryan! Ryan Morgan," I replied, and shook his extended hand. "Your nephews?" he then asked, motioning his head toward Brandon and Mark who had abandoned the surf in favor of throwing a Frisbee. "No, actually I'm the guardian of the blonde curly-headed one and the other one is his boy friend," I replied, noticing that Gerald had a lovely firm stomach with a very nice blonde "treasure trail" that traveled from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his cut-off shorts. "Oh my, how nice! You have no problem with them being gay then?" Gerald asked, prompting me to chuckle a little. "I would hope not since I'm gay myself." "Interesting! So am I," Gerald replied, and smiled, showing a set of beautiful white teeth. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked. "No, not at all," I said. Gerald seated himself cross-legged on the blanket, his ponytail hanging down midway on his back. "So what kind of art do you do?" I asked. "Well, I do some oil painting and sketching, but mostly I do ceramics," he replied. "That's nice! I've always found it interesting how someone can take a piece of clay and mold it into something beautiful. I couldn't do that if someone held a gun to my head. I know all I could ever do in art class in high school was make ashtrays," I said, prompting Gerald to laugh. "Yeah, not everyone is talented for sure. Fortunately, most of the people I teach are talented so my job is pretty easy," Gerald responded. "So, Ryan, what do you do for fun?" he asked. "Well, you see it mostly. I come out to the beach with the guys sometimes, lay out by the pool at the apartment, take in a good movie, or some such," I replied. "You don't go out to the clubs?" Gerald asked. "Nah, I've been out a few times with some friends, but I'm not really into the club scene much." "Me either, I've always found most of the people I run into at the clubs are out for a suck or a fuck and not much else." "Exactly!" I replied. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Ryan?" "I'll be thirty-seven in September." "Wow! I figured you to be closer to my age," Gerald said. "Thanks for the compliment. How old are you?" I asked. "Right now, I'm twenty six. I'll be twenty-seven in October." "Young stuff, then," I commented, and we both laughed. "Don't look now, but I think we're being talked about," Gerald said, and motioned his head toward Brandon and Mark who were whispering something back and forth and obviously looking at the two of us. "Yeah, seems like it." "Hey, look! I gotta be going, but give me a call sometime. Just give the operator at the college my name and she will connect you to my office phone. If I'm not there, leave a message. Maybe we can get together and do a movie or something," Gerald said. "Uh yeah, sure! That would be nice," I replied. "Well, it's been nice to meet you, Ryan. You take care, man," Gerald said, and got up off the blanket, and held out his hand. I shook Gerald's hand, then watched as he walked a short distance, picked up a surfboard that was obviously his, and then walked away from me down the strip of beach, very much looking the role of the tall, blonde, surfer that he was. Later on, as Brandon, Mark, and I headed home it was Mark who mostly teased me about the hot babe I had met on the beach. Brandon made a few comments, but for the most part he was strangely silent. Once we had gotten home from the beach, the fact that Brandon still remained pretty much silent that evening wasn't lost on me. In fact, he didn't have too much to say all through dinner. At first, I decided not to push the issue, but thinking back to our first conversation about Mark, I went ahead and pressed the point while we were cleaning the dishes off of the table. "So what's wrong?" I asked. "Nothing," Brandon replied. "You didn't have a good time with Mark at the beach?" I asked. "Yeah, I had a good time. You did too it looked like," Brandon responded. "Oh, I see. A little jealous are we?" I asked. "No, I'm not jealous, what makes you think I am?" Brandon replied, prompting me to laugh. "That's right laugh! I'm just a stupid kid!" Brandon exclaimed, and threw his plate into the sink and started to storm out of the kitchen. "Brandon Wayne Dorsey come back here!" I hollered after him, shocked at how much I sounded like my father when he would holler at me. "Fuck you!" Brandon shouted back. "Brandon, I'm serious. Come back here!" I said. "What!" Brandon exclaimed, turning around and standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "You know I've never treated you like a kid or called you one," I said. "Yeah, I know," Brandon replied, and hung his head. "Now what's the deal?" I asked. "It's just that it was so weird. I felt sick in my stomach when I saw you talking to that guy. I could tell you were enjoying yourself and it just felt like you were going to stop loving me and start loving him!" "Good grief, Brandon! I just met the guy. I don't know whether I will like him or not or whether or not I'll even call him." "If you do, you won't quit loving me will you?" Brandon asked, and looked up at me. "Oh God Brandon! I'm never going to do that," I replied, and walked over to him and took him into my arms. "Please don't stop loving me Ryan. I'll just die if you do!" he said. "Hey, look at me," I said, pulling up his chin with my hand and bringing his eyes up so they met mine. I'll never not love you, no matter what!" I said, then moved my mouth toward him to kiss him on the cheek. Brandon would have none of it and he kissed me full on the mouth and instantly his tongue was trying to reach the back of my throat. The kitchen got cleaned no further that night. We sunk to the floor, never breaking our kiss. Like sex-starved nymphomaniacs, we kissed and groped each other. Frantically, we began pulling off each other's clothes. It had been so long for the both of us. We writhed on the kitchen floor in a sixty-nine until we came together, greedily drinking down each other's sperm as if there would be no more for all time. Later, in bed, Brandon and I had some of the most passionate sex we had had in many months. For some reason, it was if we both had to prove our love for each other. We took turns devouring each other with our mouths, and when Brandon straddled my thighs and gasped as he inserted my hard cock into his bum, I instantly was determined to make it last awhile. I did. For a short time, I let Brandon ride my cock. Then, I rolled him over so that I was on top and could look into his eyes, kiss him, and savor his facial expressions during the long slow fuck that ensued. Brandon alternately moaned, cooed, and gasped as my cock traveled in and out of him. I would stop and kiss him. Then, I would fuck him some more. Slowly, ever so slowly! For almost an hour I fucked him, brushing his hand away every time he tried to reach for his dick and wank it. Eventually, however, nothing could prolong the inevitable and Brandon gasped and passionately kissed me as he had one of his rare anal orgasms, spraying cum all over his now-ripped stomach, my load exploding into his rectum not far behind as his anal spasms milked my cock. In the wee hours of the morning, we fucked again, this time Brandon on top of me pumping away at my butt and trying to reach the back of my throat with his tongue the whole while. The next day, Sunday, we spent the entire day in bed. I don't know how I got it up that many times but I did. I think it was because of the subconscious realization that things were not going to be the same now that Gerald and Mark were in the picture. Monday, I called in sick. I called the school and told them Brandon was ill. We snacked on Fritos and salsa for breakfast, and then we sucked each other off. Later, we took turns fucking each other for brunch. We spent another entire day in bed, leaving only for one or the other of us to go to the bathroom, only to return and snuggle up again. Things went along rather smoothly for some days after that and I did call Gerald. We agreed to meet up at the shopping mall that evening for dinner and a movie. Brandon still wasn't home when it came time for me to leave, I suspected he was with Mark as usual, so I left him a note and told him I should be back shortly after ten. Gerald turned out to be a wonderful conversationalist over dinner, so much so, in fact, that we talked our way through the start of the movie. I found out a lot about him and he found out a lot about me over dinner and I was surprised how totally at ease I was around him, especially for a first date. Gerald was the middle son of three boys. His dad was a biologist and his mother taught Spanish in high school. He had grown up in Florida, not far from Coco Beach, and indeed he had grown up surfing, and loved the beach. He had gotten interested in ceramics when he was in high school and decided that he would major in art by the time he was in the 10th grade. He had gotten both his BA and MA from FSU and had decided to teach at the junior college level because it would give him more time to work on his own projects. At sixteen, not unlike Brandon, Gerald had fallen in love with a guy in the next grade and it had not been a good experience for him. Later, he had had a lengthy affair with a guy in college, much as I had had, but there never was really a serious intention, on the part of the other guy, for the relationship to go anywhere, and of course, I could relate to that as well. Later, we went for a long walk in the park and talked some more about our careers and other things in general. Mutually, we agreed to see each other again and we both headed home satisfied that we had had a very good evening together. When I got back to the apartment it was pretty close to midnight and you can imagine my surprise when I unlocked the front door and entered and Brandon was sitting on the couch watching television. "Well, it's about time you got home!" Brandon said, much like I was the child and he was the parent. "I'm sorry. We talked longer than I realized," I responded, somewhat humbly. "Yeah, I bet!" Brandon replied, in a tone that made me a little angry. "Look, Brandon, that is all we did was talk! Gerald is a wonderful conversationalist and it was nice to talk to someone who has had some of the same experiences I've had. Both of us just lost track of the time," I said. "I knew you were gonna like him! I could fucking tell it when I watched you two at the beach!" Brandon said, somewhat angrily. "I've already told you, Brandon. I'm not sure whether I'm going to like him or not. I do find him very attractive, both physically and mentally, and I think he feels the same way toward me. We're going to get together again but I don't think either of us is ready to commit to more than that right now. Now, we both need to get to bed. It's late," I said. "See you in the morning!" Brandon replied, and got up off of the couch and headed down the hall toward his bedroom. "Goodnight Brandon!" I called after him. "Nite," he replied, unenthusiastically, and closed the door to his room. Nothing much was said over breakfast the next morning, especially about Gerald, and both of us went about the morning routine as if things were normal. However, they weren't. I could tell that Brandon was insecure again and I tried to reassure him, as he left to meet Mark for their mowing that day, that I loved him. However, I wasn't sure that it had helped that much. It was three weeks later when things became even more complicated. "You know, this is our sixth date tonight," Gerald said as we finished our after dinner coffee. "Yeah I know," I replied. "Is it that you don't find me attractive enough?" Gerald asked. "Oh God no, Gerald! I find you very-attractive." "Well, I find you attractive as well. So what's the hang up?" I sat silent wondering whether to lie or tell the truth. "Look, Ryan. Normally, I would've tried to get into your pants long ago, and from what you have told me about yourself it is probably the same with you. It's Brandon isn't it?" "Yes, it's Brandon." "That's what I thought. Look, I don't want to barge in here, but, whether it's some other guy or me you're going to have the same problem. Brandon is going to have to learn to accept it no matter who you bring around. You've accepted Mark, right?" "Yes!" "Well then, you see what I mean. He's going to have to do the same with you and whatever guy you bring home at night." "What should I do?" I asked. "Well, sometimes, the best thing to do is confront the problem head on." "Like how?" Gerald reached across the table and took hold of my hand. "Like, take me home and make love to me tonight." "But Brandon will be there." "Yes, I know." Gerald said, and then grinned. Sure enough, Brandon was waiting up when we arrived, lying on the couch in his boxers and nothing else, which was normal. "Well, you're home early tonight." Brandon remarked, not bothering to turn his head away from the television and notice that Gerald was standing just slightly behind me. "Yes, we are," I replied, prompting Brandon to turn his head, and then sit up on the couch. "Brandon, this is Gerald. Gerald, this is Brandon." "Hello, Brandon, pleased to met you," Gerald said. "Hello." Brandon replied, in a very unenthusiastic tone, as the two of us entered and I closed the front door behind us. "I've heard a lot of nice things about you, Brandon," Gerald said. "Yeah, that's nice. I guess I should go to my room now," Brandon replied and started to get up from the couch. "Gerald I----" "Just a minute, Brandon. I'd like to talk to you for a sec if you don't mind," Gerald said, as he held up his hand to interrupt me. "You mind if I sit down?" he asked as we got near the couch where Brandon was sitting. "Yeah! Whatever!" Brandon replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Look, Brandon. I was serious when I said that Ryan had told me some very good things about you." "That's cool! Now, can I go to my room?" "In a second. There are a few things I need to tell you first," Gerald answered. "First of all, I think I like Ryan very much. I hope that maybe it will soon be love and he'll feel the same about me. I know how much he loves you, that's almost all he ever talks about." "So?" Brandon replied. "So, Brandon. I'm spending the night. Ryan and I are going to sleep together, and we are going to make love under this very roof, just like you and Mark have done. And, in the morning, Ryan is still going to love you just as much as he has from the moment he first laid eyes upon you. I hope, if I'm lucky, Ryan will love me in the morning half as much as he loves you. There's no way I could hope for him to love me more than that," Gerald said. For a moment, Brandon sat staring at Gerald. Then, he looked at me, then back at Gerald. Then, he smiled at us both. "Sure, okay, I understand. Look, I really gotta go to bed," Brandon said, and got up from the couch. "Good night, Brandon," Gerald said. "Good night, Gerald," Brandon replied. "Goodnight, Ryan. I love you." Brandon added. "I love you too." I replied, and we both watched as Brandon headed down the hall toward his bedroom. "Oh, and by the way, you two. Please try to keep it down. I gotta get some sleep!" Brandon said, then snickered as he disappeared down the hall. In response, Gerald and I shook our heads and laughed. Naturally, the next morning over breakfast, Brandon couldn't resist teasing both of us about all the noise, taking particular delight, I'm sure, in making us both uncomfortable, even though both of us knew that wasn't the case. We had been particularly careful to be quiet and had made slow, soft, love until the wee hours of the morning. Yet, that didn't keep us from being embarrassed at the admonishments given to us by a sixteen-year-old. Unlike Brandon or myself, Gerald was a natural bottom. Gerald loved that position more than any other and that was fine by me. On those rare occasions when he did desire to top it was rough at first. I had figured, from the rest of his physical features, and the bulge in his shorts and slacks, that Gerald was probably well endowed and I wasn't wrong. Gerald was blessed with ten-inches of fat uncut cock and it had been a long time since I had had to deal with anything like that up my butt. However, I got used to it quicker than I thought I would. By August, as the start of school approached, Gerald and I had become confident enough in our relationship that we had begun to discuss what to do about the living arrangements. Moving in with Brandon and I was out of the question for several reasons. First of all, the commute to the community college would be way too far for Gerald to deal with each day. Secondly, Gerald was used to having his own home studio in which to work. Normally, Brandon and I moving in with Gerald could have easily solved the problem, since he had a house and plenty of room. Yet, the commute to work would also be too far for me and it would also mean Brandon would have to start his junior year at another high school. We decided that, for the time being at least, we'd get by alternating weekends at his place and mine. I insisted that Brandon visit his mom before the start of school. So, I purchased a round trip ticket for him to fly out to Reno for a week and visit his mom. The trip did not go well. Brandon returned ranting about the jerk she was shacked up with and vowing to never go back again. I didn't press the point. Just a few months shy of seventeen, he was old enough to make up his own mind about such things. Brandon insisted on using some of the money that he earned that summer to buy some of his school clothes. I told him I would have preferred to pay for them all myself so that he could put the money into his college account. We compromised and agreed to a fifty fifty arrangement. It was just as well. Already the clothing styles had begun to change again and I had no earthly idea what to buy. I let Brandon do all the selecting. Then, too, Brandon had taken another growth spurt and had changed dramatically over the summer. He no longer wore the yellow Speedo, preferring boxers instead when he lounged around the apartment, and by the end of the summer he couldn't have gotten into the Speedo even if he had wanted to. His whole body had grown and filled out. There simply wasn't enough room in which to stuff everything. Simply put, Brandon's sexual equipment now rivaled my own and he had grown another two inches in height. I figured that by the time he graduated from high school he would be as tall as I was and most undoubtedly better endowed. I would be right on both counts. Brandon started his junior year smoothly and was elated that he had gotten moved up to varsity on the soccer team. I went to as many games as I could and loved watching those long gazelle-like legs of his in action. I remember thinking, on more than one occasion, that I was glad the soccer players hadn't gone to those terrible long shorts like the basketball teams had done. As I said, the start of the school year went smoothly. Yet, there were bumpy times ahead and Brandon and I would have our next big fight. "Damn it, Ryan! I'm not some fuckin little kid anymore!" He hollered at me, standing there toweling himself off. "I can see that." I replied, pointing at his groin. "Always with the jokes! You always gotta be so fuckin funny!" he riled. "Look, I'm sorry for the remark. But, I'm not going to sign hardship papers so you can get your driver's license." I replied. "Why not? Everyone has their damn license!" he replied. "Well, not everyone. I know one that won't. Not until he's old enough." I responded. "Two months. I won't be fuckin seventeen for two months!" he said. "It's not a lifetime, Brandon. When you turn seventeen it'll be okay," I replied. "If I get a hardship permit I can legally drive Mark's truck," Brandon countered. "All the more reason why I'm even more determined now," I responded. "What do you fucking mean by that?" he asked. "First of all, you're driving his truck illegally. If something happens while you're behind the wheel I'm responsible. Remember me? The guardian!" "Damn it I hate you!" he screamed, then headed for his room and slammed the door closed when he got there. "Well, what family doesn't have its little ups and downs?" I muttered, in my best imitation of Katherine Hepburn in the movie "The Lion in Winter." Brandon hardly talked to me for the next two days and I didn't push the issue. I figured he would get out of his funk soon enough over the driving issue. You can imagine my surprise the third day when he came through the front door crying and headed straight for his room, slammed the door, and locked it. I followed behind and stood at the door and listened. I could hear him crying his heart out. "Brandon, is there something I can do?" I asked. "Go away!" Brandon replied, and continued crying. "Look, when you want to talk about it just let me know," I said. "Just go the fuck away!" Brandon replied, and started crying even harder. My heart ached! There had been only a couple of times Brandon had really cried in the years we had lived together. Either time he had never sounded like he did at that moment. I turned away from the door and went back into the kitchen and did the best I could to distract myself by emptying the dishwasher and putting up the dishes. The thought of fixing dinner was out of the question. I was far from hungry at the moment and I was sure Brandon wasn't either. Once I had put up the dishes I went and sat in my leather lounge chair, turned on the television, and tried to distract myself with the six o'clock news. About halfway through the news I heard the door to Brandon's room unlock and then light footsteps in the hall. I turned my head toward the hallway entrance. Brandon, tears running down his cheeks, and naked as the day he was born, entered the living room, walked over to where I sat in the chair, and then stood there looking into my eyes. I knew what he wanted. I nodded my head and Brandon climbed into my lap not unlike the first time years before. "Hold me please!" he said in a tone that reminded me of the little kid years before. "Sure." I replied, and wrapped my arms around him. It was a much bigger version of the fourteen-year-old that I had held in my lap who had made the same request almost three years ago. Yet, the loneliness in the tone of his voice was the same. I must have held Brandon for half an hour while he cried, rocking him like a small child in my arms as he did so. Slowly, between crying spells, the reason for his hurt emerged. It was Mark. Unbeknownst to Brandon, Mark had been seeing a graduate student at the University behind Brandon's back. Brandon had overheard some remarks by others but refused to believe it was true. Finally, he had confronted Mark about the issue and Mark had told him that it was true. It was all over between the two of them. "Will you make love to me, Ryan? Please!" Brandon asked, looking up at me, tear stains on his cheeks. There was no dinner for either of us that evening. I bottomed for Brandon the entire night. It was no little boy that made love to me until the wee hours of the morning. He had matured emotionally and sexually more than I thought. I remember thinking, as he sucked my nipples, and nibbled and sucked at my neck as he thrust into me, leaving marks on it that that lasted for days afterward, how much that he was like Gerald in so many ways. I called in sick for both of us the next morning, then left a message on Gerald's answering machine, telling him that I was having to resolve some issues and would call him. Brandon and I made love and slept off and on all the next day. It would be the last time that Brandon and I would ever have sex. For both of us, I think, it was a defining moment in our relationship. There was no need for either one of us to try and prove anything to the other. That we loved each other there was no doubt in either of our minds. That we each had lives headed down different paths seemed to be understood without another word ever being spoken on the subject by either of us. To be continued.