Date: Wed, 12 Jan 2005 06:45:02 EST
From: Justin0398@aol.com
Subject: Stonebridge Days 05 by Justin Davis (M/T, M/M, mast, oral, anal)

The following story contains graphic sexual scenes between young males
and older males. 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 Five


Things got back to normal after Brandon's little heartbreak.  Well,
almost back to normal.  He was a lot more affectionate and considerate
around me from then on.  Even the tone of his voice when he called me
Ryan changed.  It was almost like he was saying dad.

Gerald was much more understanding than I probably would have been when I
explained to him what had happened.  In fact, he thought it was
absolutely spectacular that two days of lovemaking between Brandon and I
had started off the same way as it had years before.  I assured him it
wouldn't happen again.  He said that he knew it wouldn't.

For his seventh birthday, I took Brandon for his driver's test, he
passed, and he could now drive on his own. A month later, I spent a chunk
of the small inheritance my Aunt had left me and bought him a truck.  It
was a black Chevy Z 71.  A "butch" truck for a gay guy.  Go figure!  I
tried to talk him out of it, giving all kinds of alternatives. But, it
was what he wanted. Sylvia's words about Brandon getting what he wanted
had come back to haunt me again.

I tried not to pre-judge the guys that Brandon brought through the front
door the spring of his junior year.  There was Henry, I believe the term
today is "geek" or some such.  There was Raymond, where he dug him up
I'll never know!  Then there was Jacob, trouble if the word ever had a
physical form.

The phone rang at three o'clock that Sunday morning.  Gerald and I both
stirred in my bed.  Phones ringing at that hour are either a wrong number
or bad news.  It was the latter.

"Hello!" I said into the handset.

"Is this Ryan Morgan?" a voice on the other end of the connection asked.

"Yes, this is Ryan Morgan," I answered.

"Mr. Morgan, this is Sergeant Anderson, of the Orlando Police
Department.  Do you know a young man by the name of Brandon Dorsey?" he
asked.

My heat skipped a beat.

"Yes.  I'm his guardian. Is everything okay?"  I replied.

"Well, Mr. Morgan.  He's a bit sick and throwing his guts up right now.
But, yes, everything is all right as it can be.  He's been charged with
DUI and MIP.  Unless you want him to stay here the rest of the weekend
you need to come bail him out."

The Sergeant was kind enough to give me the directions to the police
station and both Gerald and I dressed and headed that way immediately.  I
was furious and ranted and raved all the way there, Gerald trying to calm
me down and mitigate the situation all the way.

One look at Brandon, he looked green, and all my anger melted away.  I
burst out laughing, and Gerald did too.

"Oh God!  I feel like shit!"  Brandon moaned the next morning when he
finally got up.

"Would you like some breakfast?" I asked.  "Gerald and I just had eggs
with salsa, sausage, and toast!"

"Oh God!" Brandon groaned, and then grabbed his stomach and hurried
toward the bathroom.  The sounds of his dry heaves soon echoed down the
hall.

I wish I could say that Gerald and I didn't laugh.  But, we did.

I think even worse for Brandon, than the hangover he had, was having to
sit and listen to the lecture I gave him.  He moaned and groaned and
rolled his eyes through the whole thing.  I never had to give it again.

It cost $500 dollars to get Brandon's truck out of the storage lot, and
$300 for the fines, not a small sum in those days.  Yet, I didn't say a
word about him having to pay for it.  I figured he had learned his
lesson.

"Here!" Brandon said, a month later, handing me eight one hundred-dollar
bills.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's for what you spent on my fuck up," Brandon replied.

"Where did you get this kind of money?" I asked.

"I sold some stuff," he replied.

I didn't press the issue.  I deposited the money in his college fund.

I would find out, a few years later, that he sold his Nintendo and all
the game cartridges, as well as his entire baseball card collection to
raise the money. Not to mention working after school cleaning some
dentist's office when I just thought he was getting home late from soccer
practice, which was the story he gave me at the time.

Off and on, Sylvia would call and Brandon would talk to her. I could
tell, from the tone in his voice Brandon really wasn't that enthused.
Then, she would talk to me, and I could tell, from her tone, she wasn't
enthused about Brandon very much either.

It was after one such conversation, right before Easter, that Brandon and
I entered yet another phase in our relationship.

We had just gotten off the phone with his mom.  I had chortled on about
how fine things seemed to be going for her and trying to put a positive
lift on what had not really been a good conversation for either him or
me.

"Ryan, you can cut the bullshit!" Brandon said.

"What do you mean?"  I asked.

"Ryan, you know you're really the only person, the only adult person in
my life, who has given a shit about me!" Brandon replied.

I didn't know how to respond.  I was overwhelmed with his words and guilt
at the same time.

"Adults that care about young kids don't put their dick up their butt," I
muttered in reply.

"Jesus Christ, Ryan!  You're so fucking hung up about that shit!  Don't
you know I scoped you out from the moment I saw you by the pool?  You
didn't see me, but I saw you. That damn yellow Speedo I wore?  Fuck!  I
bought the damn thing a size too small so you would notice me. And it
worked, too! All that shit in front of the patio doors? You know I knew
you were watching me all the time I did that shit in front of the
windows.  Thank God nobody else saw it!  I wanted your dick in my butt!
I wanted to suck your cock.  I wanted you to suck mine!  I wanted you to
fuck me! I wanted you for a lot of reasons. You think I walked into your
living room naked that first time and sat in your lap and asked you to
hold me and didn't think we'd have sex?  God!  I'm supposed to be the
stupid kid!  For Christ sake get off the guilt trip, Dad!"

It was the first time he had used that word.  Tears started running down
my face as I looked at him.  It was like I had been given a Papal
absolution.

"You want me to hold you?" Brandon asked.

"Please." I said, nodding my head that I did.

Brandon set down upon the couch, opened his arms, and I crawled into them
like a little kid. Then, he held me and rocked me as I cried, like I had
done for him several times before.

There was no sex involved, just love, the love of a child for a parent,
younger comforting older.  Any guilt that I may have had about the past
melted away in those strong arms that held me.

In May, toward the end of the school year, Jeff entered onto the scene.
He was a cute kid.  Hispanic in appearance, Prets for a last name, he was
adopted.  Brandon had raved about him for two weeks.  I was finally glad
to meet him, and so was Gerald, when Brandon brought him through the
front door that Friday night.

"So, Jeff, you play with Brandon on the soccer team?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, kinda.  I'm not as good as him.  But, yeah sure," He
replied.

I cut my eyes at Gerald.  He rolled his. This was not a brilliant
conversationalist for sure.  Both Gerald and I let it go at that.  The
two went back to Brandon's room, Brandon showered, and they went out.

"So, where did you two guys go?" I asked, as I fixed breakfast for the
three of us the next morning.

"Uh, just around," Brandon replied.

"I see.  So you just drove around most of the night?"  I said.

"Fucking damn!  You gotta know everything I do?  We drove over to Co Co
Beach, I fucked his brains out in the back of the pickup and then sucked
him off!" Brandon railed, and then stormed out of the kitchen back to his
room.

I looked at Gerald.  I understood the look he gave me back.  I was
standing at the door to Brandon's room very soon.

"Brandon, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to pry," I said.

There was shuffling inside and the door opened.

"Hey, I know.  I'm sorry I blew up.  He's good sex!" Brandon said.

"Safe?"  I asked.

"Just like you've always told me," Brandon replied.

"I'll let you know when dinner is ready," I said.

"Cool!" Brandon replied.

A week later, as the boys entered through the front door still dressed in
their soccer shorts that Friday afternoon after soccer practice, Gerald
and I noticed, at about he same time, that Jeff's legs were now smooth,
the same as Brandon's.  We looked at each other and didn't say a word.
Both of us knew that what was now probably left of Jeff's body hair were
his pubes and a "treasure trail."  Brandon could be persuasive.

School let out for the summer, and with Jeff as his sidekick, Brandon
began to mow yards again.  When he and Mark had broken up Mark had lost
interest.  Thus, Brandon inherited all the equipment as well as the
customers.  The two stayed very busy and mowed yards every weekday and
sometimes on Saturdays.

Gerald had opted to take the summer off, he wasn't teaching any classes,
and so he drifted in and out, spending some of the time at his home in Co
Co and some of the time with me.

I saw little of Brandon, except in the mornings at breakfast, and from
what I could tell, for the moment at least, Brandon's life was centered
mostly on his yard work and Jeff.  From snippets of our conversations I
had doubts that Brandon's relationship with Jeff was going to be
long-term, he didn't seem to have the same passion for Jeff that he had
had for Mark.  I was right.  However, nothing could have prepared me for
how that would come to pass nor the strain that it would place upon
Gerald's and my relationship.

It was a little after six o'clock the last Friday afternoon in June.  I
had come home to the apartment and had begun cooking one of Gerald's
favorites, spaghetti and meat sauce, when the doorbell rang.

I headed toward the door, figuring it was some salesman, since I knew it
couldn't be either Brandon or Gerald, and opened it.  I was a little
surprised at what I saw when I did.

Standing there, was a tall, lanky, guy, I suspected to be about
seventeen, with blonde hair, cut "Preppy" style, and a gold earring in
his right ear.  He was dressed in a loose fitting tee shirt, brown cargo
shorts, and sandals.  The obviously full duffel bag that sat at his side
puzzled me.

"Yes, may I help you?" I asked, taking note that he had the deepest
emerald green eyes I had ever seen.

"Is this where Brandon lives?" he asked.

"Uh, yes.  He's not here right now.  He's out mowing yards," I said,
wondering in the back of my mind who this guy was Brandon hadn't said
anything about.

"I'm Chris, Brandon's cousin."

"Oh yeah, Chris!  I remember Brandon talking about you.  Won't you come
in?"  I replied, and stood aside so the guy could enter.

"Gee thanks!  It's hot out there and it was a long walk from the bus
stop," he said, as he picked up his duffel bag and headed into the
apartment.

"You can set that down over there if you like," I said, pointing to a
spot over by the entrance to the living room.

"Thanks!" he replied, and set the duffel bag down where I had indicated.

"Would you like a soda or something?"  I asked.

"Thanks, that would be great," he replied.

"Coke okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure.  That's cool," he responded.

"Have a seat on the couch if you want.  I'll get your soda," I said,
motioning my hand toward the living room couch.

I went to the fridge and got out an unopened can of Coke and head toward
the living room with it.

"Tell me, Chris.  What brings you to Orlando?" I asked, handing him the
can of Coke and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

"Well, a job mostly.  They're starting auditions for dancers at Disney
World Monday," Chris replied, and took a sip from his Coke.

"Oh, so you're a dancer?"  I asked.

"Well yeah, that and drama.  I've been majoring in drama for the last
three years at FSU.  I decided to take a year off and get a little more
experience and make some money at the same time." He replied.

"Three years at FSU already?  You don't look that old," I commented,
noting that from what Chris had said and what Brandon had told me about
Chris he had to be in his early twenties.  Yet, he didn't look a day over
seventeen.

"Yeah, I know.  I get carded all the time.  I'm almost twenty-three," he
replied.

"Well, I'm sure the competition must be pretty stiff at the auditions."

"Yeah, I guess.  I've got experience though.  I've been in a few summer
shows.  Last summer I was in the chorus line in a production of "Cats."

"Oh, I see.  Well, I hope that it goes well for you."

"Yeah, me too."

"How did you find out where we lived?" I asked, curious as to how he was
able to just show up at the front door.

"Oh, Aunt Sylvia told me.  I called and talked to her.  She said she knew
there wouldn't be any problem with me staying with you guys for a few
weeks."

"Well, I'm glad she made the offer," I said, the tone of my voice
obviously not to complimentary toward Sylvia.

"Oh, is there a problem?" he asked.

"Well, not with me. However, Gerald, my lover will be coming in soon.  We
only have two bedrooms.  The other one is Brandon's.  I'm afraid I'll
have to leave it up to Brandon as to whether you can bunk in with him or
not."

"Oh, it won't be long.  Just until I can get a pay check and find my own
place."

"Well, then.  We'll leave it up to Brandon," I replied.

Gerald arrived a little before seven and introductions were made and
Brandon arrived shortly after.  Brandon was ecstatic that Chris was
there, so, there didn't seem to be much doubt that Chris would be bunking
in for awhile.  I remember thinking, as Chris devoured the spaghetti and
meat sauce like he hadn't eaten in a week, that I was going to have to
buy more of everything the next time I went to the grocery store.

"Oh my God!  Geez!"  Gerald exclaimed softly, later that night after we
had gone to bed.

Of course, I couldn't help but laugh, albeit quietly.  Obviously, from
the muted sounds coming through our bedroom wall from Brandon's room,
Brandon and his cousin were catching up on more than just a few years of
idle gossip.

"What a perfect timing.  They'll never hear us," Gerald said softly, and
moved to kiss me.

Minutes later, I gasped, as I always did, as Gerald entered me.  It was
one of the rare occasions when he wanted to top, and though we had been
having sex for a long time there was just no way I could keep from it as
all fat ten inches slid into me.  Then, I began to moan almost
continually, for in addition to being long and thick Gerald's cock curved
upward.  Consequently, the head would slide back and forth over my
prostate as he fucked me.  As a result, I would experience shock waves of
pleasure that continued to build and build and always culminated with me
having a hands-free cum.

Naturally, this time was no different and I was soon gasping and groaning
as I sprayed cum all over my stomach.  As always, that sent Gerald over
the top and he soon was flooding my insides with his usual large load of
cum at about the same time Brandon's muted cries filtered through the
wall.  He, too, was blowing his load.

To be continued