Date: Fri, 20 Nov 2009 18:09:20 +0100
From: Dave Gabriel <pldmt1@gmail.com>
Subject: Supermarket Boy Pt. 1

Hey guys,

Hope you enjoy and always welcome any comments! Thanks, - Dave


I was up at our vacation house in upstate New York this past summer when
this happened. My wife and kids had stayed behind in the city and I had a
week to myself. I'm a writer and sometimes need some solitude when I'm
really into something I'm working on. Every so often, my wife lets me have
a week alone like that.

It gives me a chance to perv a little more aggressively on teen boys.
That's my secret passion. Up where our summer house is, there's not much
going on. There's a big supermarket that's decent enough and we always shop
there. I headed there upon arriving. There were several teen guys working
there; I recognized three from previous shopping trips. One was really cute
but I couldn't get his attention at all; he was lost in his own world.
Another one looked like a little gay boy - a chubby Puerto Rican kid who
was cute enough. I hadn't made any eye contact with him either in the
past. The one who always stirred my interest, though, was a rough looking
white kid with brown hair. He wasn't particularly good-looking or ugly. He
wore horrible clothes - khaki pants and some stupid running shows under
that silly apron thing they had to wear - and his hair was always kind of
fucked up every time I saw him. He had a few pimples on his face, and pale,
pasty skin - he probably ate nothing but shit food and sat around and
watched TV all day when he wasn't working. He probably wasn't particularly
smart or charming, I guessed.

That was just fine, though. What struck me about him is that he always
found my gaze and returned it - with something like scorn. He was on to me
from the first time - he knew I was a teen boy lover and he knew I was
perving on him. The first time I came in with my wife and kids, I stared at
him at the checkout counter - he worked the register that day - and he
stared back, almost scowling, as if to say, "You perv, there with your
family, looking at me." I was taken aback by his look and he actually
shamed me - I looked away. Then when I was alone, I jerked off about him,
imagining him being rough with me. He came up in my thoughts a fair amount,
as fantasy material. Like I say, he wasn't great looking - but most of the
time for me, that is incidental. Classic good looks aren't important to me.
He had something that was very sexy and strong about him. And he was cute
in a rough way.

I saw him there at the checkout counter again, this time alone. I went to
pay at his counter, approaching it with some nervousness. His name was
Mike, said the name tag. He saw me in line, and there was that look of
contempt again, before he looked down again, scanning items for the other
customer. My face reddened.

It was my turn at the counter, and I laid my items down, saying, "How's it
going?"

Without looking up, he said deadpan, "Not bad." Not much else happened
between the two of us. I paid with a credit card, and he handed me a pen,
saying, "Sign there." I looked at his face, trying to make eye contact. He
handed me my receipt, and looked at me briefly, with a mean look, saying,
"Have a nice day," with venom.

Whew! I left defeated. Two days after I was back to buy fresh bread. I
looked for my boy and didn't see him at the checkout counter. As I paid for
my food though, I saw him heading outside - today he was on duty to pick up
the carts in the parking lot and collect them. My heart raced a bit. I
walked outside and he was bringing carts to the rack. I brought mine to the
rack in the middle of the lot where he stood. He looked up at me, frowning.

"How you doing today?" I asked, trying to be macho and friendly...a hard
combination to pull off for me always. Problem with me is, my energy toward
guys - toward this dude for instance - is often so queer, as a first
impulse. If I get to know a guy then we're buddies and it's normal and
there's no sexual tension or weirdness. But I often catch myself cruising
guys without even realizing it. The older I get, the worse it gets -
because I guess I just don't give a shit!. I'm 39 now - I am who I am. But
I should be more careful - not every guy is gay of course.

He looked up and drawled, "All right."

Today he had a light blue tee-shirt short on under that stupid apron thing,
and some jeans - a little better than the last time I saw him. His hair was
matted and sweaty, and he still wore those dumb running shoes. "Pretty hot
to be working outside, huh?" I queried.

"Yeah - whatever."

"You work here full time?"

He looked at me and scowled. "What do you care?"

"Sorry man - just trying to make conversation."

"Yeah but why?"

"Dunno - sorry." I started to walk away.

"I seen you looking at me is all," he said. I turned around.

"What do you mean?"

"You gay or something?" he said quietly, squinting, looking at me directly
though.

"I like everything," I said. Fuck it, I figured. He was on to me anyhow.

He stood there and looked around a little bit then looked back at me. "I
know guys like you - you're one of those gay guys who has a wife and kids
and everything - I seen you here before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah - and you're always lookin' at me."

"Shit - sorry! Didn't mean to stare at you." And with that, I stared at him
- I looked him in the eyes, then I let my eyes wander conspicuously down
his front side, pausing at his crotch. I looked back at him, smiling.

He smirked. "Yeah...I know guys like you." He pushed the shopping carts
together and wiped his brow. The sun was heading higher into the sky. It
was around 10 in the morning. It would be a hot one today for sure. There
was hardly anyone in the parking lot.

I just looked at him, smiling. I stepped just one step closer to him and
extended my crotch out just a little bit. I'm pretty handsome, people tell
me. I keep in shape but don't over do it. Not too much hair on my chest,
some nice definition...good enough. The wife doesn't complain, and guys
seem to be into me often enough.

"What would you do?" he asked, with no segue.

I knew what he was saying, but pretended not to. "What do you mean?"

"What would you do if I let you?"

Mmm. I paused. "Guess you'd have to find out. Sounds like you're curious
though!"

I turned and started to walk away slowly, looking back. My heart was
racing, but I was acting cool.

"You're all talk," he said. "you probably just jerk off about teenage boys
all day." He spat on the ground.

"Sounds like you're all talk too," I said, stopping and turning back to
him.

"Who says?" he challenged.

"Show me then - tell me when."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll come back here today when you get off if you want," I said quietly.
My stomach turned in nervousness.

He looked at me. "You fucking perv." He spat again. I turned around and
started to walk away, burning with shame. After a few steps, he called out,
"5:00."

I turned around, trying to regain my phony cool. "Cool. There's my car over
there - " I said, pointing to the black Audi wagon. "I'll be waiting."

"Bring some money," he said. "You're gonna pay me if you want something."

"All right," I said, feeling like an A-class loser, but excited and nervous
as well. I drove off, watching him once more, stacking the carts.

Needless to say I didn't get jack shit done the rest of the day.

At 4:50 I pulled into the parking lot and found a spot. Now, of course, it
was fairly crowded. Families shopping together, moms, dads in their sweat
pants. I grew paranoid that everyone was looking at me. What the fuck was I
thinking? I wasn't thinking, obviously...The butterflies in my stomach were
raging. At 10 after 5, my boy came out and saw my car. He was with two
other guys - one whom I recognized - the cute dreamy teen, and another guy
in his 20's - sort of a doofus type who worked packing shelves. I had no
idea what they were saying. They were all walking towards my car. Shit. Was
he going to pull a prank on me? I put my hand on the key, ready to start
the car. They all looked my way, as he said something, laughing. Just when
I was ready to split in a dejected panic, they all did some secret
handshake bullshit and the other two were off in separate directions. I
waited. He walked towards my car, looking down. In seconds, he was at the
passenger seat door and opened it up, getting in. My mouth was dry with
nervousness. "Hey" I croaked.

"Hey," he said, looking straight ahead. "Let's get the fuck outta here! I'm
sick of this place."

I started the car. "Where we gonna go?" he asked, looking straight ahead. I
realized - he was nervous too, of course.

"Let's go to that other parking lot behind the old Sears. We can park and
then go in the woods there."

"You better not try any weird shit," he said. "And I want a hundred."

"Wow! You sound like you've done this before."

He said nothing.

We drove for a minute through the parking lot, out the exit, and then
immediately into the parking lot of a Sears that had shut down a few years
back. The parking lot was largely empty. I parked and said, "Let's go."

We got out of the car and shuffled stupidly toward some woods. I led the
way. There was garbage here and there and the beginning of a path, which
abruptly ended. Then we had to jump over some branches and a dead tree, and
negotiate our way through some brush and vines. About 20 yards in, there
was a large tree and a clearing of sorts. I turned back and looked. I could
here the traffic but could barely make out the parking lot. I turned back
to him. He looked at me deadpan.

He was cute, for sure. Brown, sloppy hair, lots of it, shaggy; brown eyes
that always looked angry. "It's good to see you up close," I said.

"Yeah?" he said, looking all tough. "You been looking at me already. I
know."

"Yeah. I've been checking you out. You're Mike. Can I call you Mike?"

"What the fuck else are you gonna call me?"

"Cool."

"What are we gonna do?"

"I want you to take off your tee-shirt first. I wanna see a little more of
you."

"Aw man...what if somebody comes here?"

"Nobody'll come back here. Besides if they do, I'm in deep shit, not you -
you're just a poor kid I'm taking advantage of, right?"

"Right!" He smiled - a first. I smiled back.

"I'm Dave - in case you care," I said.

"Nah...that's cool. Dave. Nice to meet you Dave," he said in a sing-song,
mock-formal tone. With that, he laughed a bit. Smart ass - he was making
fun of the absurdity of the situation. He was right of course. I liked him
more. He kept me on my toes. He was smarter than I first thought.

He pulled off his shirt then, with no fanfare. A boy's chest still - a
little sunken. Just a little wisp of hair around his nipples. Pale skin. A
tiny belly extending out, a tiny trail of hair making its way down toward
his groin. I hardened. "So - that what you want?" he said, defensive, a
little nervous. He didn't look at me; he looked down.

"Fuck yeah. You look good." I was wearing a wife beater and pulled it off
now. He looked up and watched me. "This okay?" I said, when my chest was
bare.

"Yeah sure - whatever," he said, looking at my chest quickly. "At least
you're not some ugly old fuck."

"Man, you've got a mouth Mike!"

"That's what my mom always tells me."

"She's right."

"Fuck her - and fuck you too - I'll talk how I want."

"Doesn't bother me a bit. I'm gonna touch you a little - that okay?"

He breathed in sharply. "Yeah. Go ahead."

I put my hands on his chest and stepped closer. "You've got a nice body,
Mike - knew you would." I put my hands on his nipples and squeezed them
lightly. He breathed in quickly and tightened. I moved my hands down to his
belly.

"That what you gay guys do - stuff with nipples?"

"Hell yeah. You got nice ones too." I went back and squeezed them more now,
and they began to grow a bit.

"Fuck. Fuckin A," said Mike, and his breath staggered a bit. He looked down
and watched my hands, standing there.

"Do mine," I said.

"What? No way."

"Come on! What's the big deal? I'm paying you - shit." With that, he
scowled and reached out and touched my chest.

"What do I do?"

"Do what I do. Squeeze them with your fingers."

"Fuck. This shit is so gay."

"Yeah but it feels fuckin' good." His banal repetitive use of that old
Anglo Saxon word was rubbing off on me.

He squeezed my nipples and it felt great to have his hands on me. Now I
leaned closer, emboldened. "Gonna taste you a little there, Mike. I leaned
down and kissed his nipple.

"That's so gay."

I licked it and bit it gently. "Aw fuck." His breath was clipped again. He
froze. I had him. I worked on the other one with my hand. I moved my hand
down slowly toward his groin.

"Bet that's making your dick hard," I said. He said nothing. I went for his
button on his jeans. He did nothing; he just stood there. I unbuttoned it
easily. He looked down, watching me. I unzipped his fly, and pulled down
his jeans. He had on white briefs and his cock bulged upwards. It was of a
medium length, I could see already - an okay size. I pulled down his briefs
and it flipped out and up, rigid. Mike was uncut - what a surprise! His
cock was rigid. It was not long, but quite thick and substantial. It
pulsed. I looked at him and whistled. "Man, that's a fucking cock."

He looked at it and smiled; it twitched again. "What you gonna do?"

I kneeled down on the ground and moved towards his cock. Without any more
ceremony - he didn't seem like the touchy feely type - I took the head in
my mouth and started to lap it up with my tongue. He bucked a bit and
sucked in his breath. His taste was strong - a little taste of piss and
foreskin, and, I was pretty sure - semen. I moved down more, and took him
deeper, into my throat. I began to blow him, moving back and forth on his
cock. "Aw man...fuckin' A," he whispered.

"That good?" I queried, pausing, looking up.

"Yeah," he said, looking down.

"Take my head with your hands and fuck my mouth, Mike. Get off like that."
I put his cock back in my mouth again and took his hands and put them
around the back of my neck. He got the picture and started thrusting with
his hips, first slowly and then a little faster. I gagged just a bit; he
didn't notice. I grabbed his ass now and felt it, squeezed it. It felt
good. He hesitated just a bit, and then resumed.

"Ahh fuck," he whispered. He thrust more quickly, I gagged on his cock and
held on, forming a ring with my lips, taking care not to get my teeth on
him. He held my neck rigidly. Then he froze. I felt his thick dick spasm in
my mouth and felt his warm seed in my throat. I moved back a little and
caught the next shots on my tongue. His seed was salty and a little bitter
- a good strong taste. I lapped on his thick cockhead, catching some more
cum that oozed out of his head. I took his cock out of my mouth and licked
the whole shaft and moved down to his balls. I smelled them. They had a
nice strong smell - that kind of pistachio smell they get when they haven't
been washed for a few days and there's been some activity or at least
arousal - and they were a little damp and clammy. I gently took them in the
front of my mouth and tasted them - a salty skin taste. He watched, still
breathing heavily. He removed his hands from my head and stood there with
his arms by his side.

I looked up and then stood up. "Good?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was still tough but it was slightly softened, a
little more thoughtful.

"I'm glad. You're a stud, Mike. That really turned me on, sucking your dick
like that." I reached into my wallet and pulled out a greenback, handing it
to him. "Thanks, man." I looked at him in the eye as I paid him but he
wouldn't look at me back; he seemed ashamed at the transaction. Something
had switched in the polarity between us now - I was more in control,
strangely, even as I paid him for sex. It was weird. Or it wasn't. I had
crossed some line around the time he took his shirt off and I wasn't
ashamed anymore; he, on the other hand, was probably a little overtaken by
the feelings he got, by the pleasure he felt, and didn't know what to make
of it.

I stood next to him now and his pants were around his ankles. I really
wanted to keep him that way. He looked good, all sexed up, with his half
hard on sticking out lewdly and his naked chest. "You wanna smoke a joint?"
I asked.

"Hell yeah!" he said with the emphasis on yeah, like teenagers do,
shout-out style.

"Cool. Got one rolled." I pulled out a pack of camels and found a joint I
had rolled earlier. As I lit it, he reached down to pull up his underwear
and pants. I took the first drag and inhaled, and as I held my breath,
said, "Ah man! No - stay like that!"

He looked up at me and cocked his eyes. I held the joint out to him. "Keep
'em down while we smoke - just for me!"

He scowled and stood back up and his pants remained by his
ankles. "Whatever," he said, his default line. He took the joint and
inhaled. I watched him. He held it in. "Pretty good shit."

"Yeah it's all right," I said. I felt the shift in perception from the
weed. It was a great way to enjoy it, with this stud teen standing by me,
his dick hanging out. Reminded me of my own high school times - getting
high, doing dirty shit with my buddies, wiling away the time like that, in
onanistic pleasure.

"What do you do?" he asked, blowing out smoke. "You're not always here."

"True," I said. "We live in the city mostly - have a place here for
weekends and vacation. I'm a writer - I'm working on a story now. My wife
lets me have some time up here once in a while, when I need to work." He
passed me the joint. I took another hit and held it in. I was high. I
looked at him and his eyes were slightly squinted; he was getting there
too. His dick was shriveling up slowly.I love watching guys soft. In a way
it turns me on as much as a hard cock. I think it's because they seem more
vulnerable. I love when a guys cock is all small when I'm fucking him, for
example. The thought of taking Mike, of having him, crossed my mind quickly
as I looked at him.

"Fuckin' pervo, lookin at my dick," he said, blowing at smoke. We stood for
a moment, then he said, "I write too."

"Cool. Stories?"

"Different stuff."

"Poetry?"

"You could call it that."

"Sounds cool."

"I guess."

"You got a girl now?"

"Nu-uh. Not now. Girls are a pain."

"I hear you."

"I live with my mom and my little brother," he offered.

"Your dad close by?"

"He split when I was little - fuckin' asshole."

I said nothing. We stood for a while. "You high?" I finally asked.

"Yeah - look what that shit did to my dick - it's all shriveled!" he looked
down.

"Bet I could change that."

"Fuck you."

"Well, at least let me make you not feel so alone," I said. With that, I
unbuckled my belt. "I'll just pull 'em down - like to feel my dick outside
in the open."

"You're fuckin' weird, you know that?"

"I guess so - yeah. I'm a weird one."

He giggled. My heart jumped a little - we had crossed some line. He kind of
liked me, or at least found me entertaining, and was letting down his
guard. I unzipped my fly and pulled down my jeans till they were at my
knees. My dick is also thick and a little longer than Mike's. I'm
circumcised. It was half hard and pulsed a little. He looked at it. "You're
lucky you're uncut," I said to him.

"Why?"

"You got more to play with down there."

"Never thought about it. My bro is circum-what you call it, but they didn't
do me."

"Why not?"

"Don't know - something in the hospital. My mom doesn't know either."

I took a drag off the joint and stepped a little closer to him, thrusting
my hips forward. I blew out the smoke onto my dick slowly. My dick began to
harden. "Magic smoke, make my dick rise," I said ceremoniously, then looked
at him smiling. My dick grew. Mike looked at my dick, his mouth slightly
open. "Your turn," I said. I took another drag and leaned down just a
little, blowing smoke on his shriveled dick, which was already unfolding,
snail-like.

"Ahh..." he said. "Fuck."

"Ere," I said, passing the joint. He looked at it and took it, his dick
hardening more. My dick was all the way up now, pretty big. He was staring
at it which made me more hot. He took a drag of the joint.

"Man I'm stoned," he croaked. His dick was hard again. I took the joint and
flicked the ash with my finger. "Take the roach if you want. I kneeled down
and stuck it in his jeans pocket.

"Th - thanks."

"Just don't forget it in there - otherwise your pants'll smell like a
roach." I stood back up. I started to play with my dick slowly. "Wanna
jerk? Looks like you could get off again, horny boy."

"Fuck," he said. I played slowly with my dick, watching him.

"Show me how you jerk, Mike. Play with that dick of yours. It's fucking
hot." I leaned a little more towards him with my cock. I flicked my cock
with my finger and let it jump back up. I was taunting him a little. He
watched and then reached down and started to pull on his dick. I put my
hands by my side and watched him, my dick pulsing. He looked at my dick
still, pulling on his meat. He was high; so was I. It was really great to
be here with him and I could tell he was really into the whole
scene. Apparently, he was into my dick, staring at it a lot.

"Let's trade hands," I said. I put my hand around his cock and he took his
hand away. I pulled gently but firmly on his meat and he watched,
frozen. "Go ahead, Mike. Feel my dick."

"All right. But I won't suck you or nothin'."

"No - don't worry. But it'd be great to feel your hand there." He reached
and wrapped his hand around my dick and started to pull on me. It felt
great. His hand was warm and clammy. I pulled on his dick. We stood
together like this for a minute or more, silently jerking each other. A car
passed in the parking lot; we both looked up as it continued by. I shuffled
closer to him and put my hand other hand on his ass.

"What you doing?"

"What do you think - I'm feeling your ass."

"Why?"

"Feels good. I like your ass."

"Fuck."

I reached below his ass and found his balls. I tugged on them, jerking him
with my other hand. He groaned quietly. "Gonna come again soon," he
whispered.

"I'm getting' there too, Mike. Do me a favor - spit on your hand."

"What?"

"Come on - you're always spitting. Put some in your hand and rub it onto my
cock."

"No way."

"I'll show you." I spit on my hand and then smeared it around his cockhead,
spreading it down his shaft. I spit again, and coated his dick and my fist
with more of my spit. I started to jerk him again.

"Fuck, man."

"Now you."

He shrugged, and spit into his hand once, then twice - his spit was cottony
from the weed. "Now what?"

"Rub it all around on my dick while you jerk me."

"Gross."

"I just blew you - what's the big deal?"

"Nothin' I guess. Just never had my spit on a guy's dick before."

He reached down and rubbed it around my head from the palm of his hand. My
dick jumped and I sighed. He smirked. "Bet you like that," he said.

"Fuck yeah." We jerked in silence, now, except for the sound of the spit
slapping and churning on our fists. "Love seein' your dick like this,
Mike. Love having your hand on my dick," I whispered, feeling my orgasm
start in my balls and pass through my body, my legs, my chest. "Gonna
shoot, baby," I whispered haughtily, and with that, my dick jumped in his
hand, and my shots shot up out of my cock, upwards, then onto the ground,
then onto his hand.

"Shit!," he mumbled, and took his hand away after a moment, watching my
jumping dick. I moved next to him and now put my hand on his ass and
squeezed it; with my other hand, I jerked him steadily. He stood there
transfixed, his breathing staggered. "Ahhh..." he whispered. I squeezed his
ass cheek, and then put my hand under his balls, pulling them.

"Gonna milk you, boy," I whispered in his ear.

With that, his body tightened suddenly, and he involuntarily put his hand
around my waist to steady himself - super hot. I took him there steadily
with my hand, feeling his hard teen dick begin to spasm for the second
time, shooting out two substantial shots of thick cum. Then it was drooling
all over my spit-covered hand and I was milking him more slowly. He was
moaning. I rubbed his ass with my other hand, and rubbed his chest, all the
while slowing down the pressure and speed on his spent dick. He was a
little shaky on his feet.

"Fucking great," I said, as if to myself.

"That was stronger than the first one almost."

"Maybe it was the pot," I surmised. "Or maybe - just maybe - you liked
lookin' at my dick!"

"Fuck you!" he said, and with that, he was himself again, just a little
stoned. He pulled up his pants now. I quickly licked his cum off my fingers
before he saw and then pulled up my pants as well.

"You smoke?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Let's have a smoke then we go - cool?"

"Yeah." We sat on the ground near the tree; he leaned against it and I sat
Indian style. I gave him a camel and took one for myself, lighting him
first.

"Thanks." His body was relaxed. He breathed in the smoke and blew it
out. He really smoked.

"When'd you start smoking?"

"13."

"Me too. Same age. I used to steal 'em from my mom," I said.

"I get 'em from the store sometimes for free."

I looked at his body; looked at his chest. He looked back at me. "What's
your deal - you got a wife and I seen your kids. But you go around fucking
guys?"

"I don't go around. Once in a while I see someone I like - like you - and I
try to do something about it. I had my eye on you."

"So are you gay or what?"

"I love women - love their bodies, love pussy. But I like hot guys like
you. I like getting your clothes off. I like playing with your dick. I like
perving on you in the supermarket. What's there to figure out?"

He sat for a while looking straight ahead. "Nothing I guess." I suspected
he was trying to figure out more what he had just felt and was relaying it
through questions to me.

"Seems like you dug it too," I offered. "But you like girls also? Or no?"

"Sure I fucking like girls!"

"Just asking. Doesn't matter to me. People should just be able to do
whatever they want, I figure. Only rule is they don't hurt someone else.
That's how I see it." I took a drag off my cigarette and said, "Live and
let live."

He scowled. "My dad had that bullshit on his car - a bumper sticker. He got
it from that AA."

"Your dad trying to get sober - is he an alcoholic?"

"He's a fucking drunk. He's a loser. He ain't sober."

There was hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry man. That sucks. I mean - that's
too bad."

"I'm used to it." he finished his cigarette and crushed it under his
sneaker. "I...I gotta get home."

"Cool." We put on our shirts. "How do you get home?"

"I walk. I'm close by." We worked our way out of the woods.

We were at the parking lot. "You want a ride back to the store?"

"I'll walk from here."

"So what do you think - am I gonna see you again?" I asked.

"If you're gonna fucking shop you'll see me - I'm there every day."

"Good. I'm gonna come by there and perv on your hot body again - sound
cool?"

"Whatever," he said, with a hint of a smile, and was off, shuffling away.