Date: Tue, 27 Jul 2021 11:22:32 +0000 From: Wes Leigh Subject: The Gift of Stolen Time, Chapter 5 (Gay Adult/Youth) THE GIFT OF STOLEN TIME By Wes Leigh This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers. Any resemblance to real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation. Chapter Five Dulles International Airport, December, 2023, Eighth Journal Entry I have about an hour until the flight leaves, so I think I'll take some time to update this journal. Yeah, I'm flying now. I still don't have a passport or valid id, but I don't need one. It's laughable how easy it is to go wherever I want. I simply look for a flight that isn't fully booked, wait for the last call to board, then press the time stealer and slip on board the airplane. I walk to the back lavatories, slide into one, start time rolling again, and walk out like I own the place. I find an empty seat and buckle in. Done. Enjoy your flight. Would you like a snack or a drink, sir? That's me: the time bandit. I've stolen flight after flight all over the world. I've pilfered more cash than I can count and stuffed it away in off-shore bank accounts. I've taken cum right out of the balls of both men and boys. I've stripped away the health of loud-mouthed college students who had the audacity to hold a wild party the night my dad died. I've stolen youth. I've taken innocence. And I abandoned a young man who trusted me with his life. All because he fell in love with a girl. I guess that makes me the lowest scum on the earth. I don't know who you are, out there reading this journal of my life, but it's okay if you despise me right now, because I pretty much loathe myself. That's why I'm leaving the country. I need a change. But first, I guess I should explain what happened with Miguel. I don't have to justify myself to anyone. Not to you. Not to me. But I guess it helps to understand myself better if I go back to something that happened when I was 21. It was 1983. I was attending college at Arizona State in Tempe, studying history. I wanted to be a teacher. My grades in high school weren't the best. That meant no scholarships. And the parents weren't rich, so I wouldn't have been able to go to college at all if it hadn't been for Johan. He paid for everything using money he'd accumulated over the years while he waited for me to be born. He never told me how he got the money, so I assume some of it came the same way I get my cash. You know. Using the time stealer to `acquire' stuff. I can't say with certainty, because Johan never talked about it, but he might have been a time bandit too. I'm rambling now. I really don't want to write about this. Out of all the disgusting shit I've done in all my years, what I did in college was the worst. I'll never forgive myself for it, so if it's hard for me to write about it, you can understand. If you can't understand, you can stop reading my journal right now and go find a romance novel. I don't care. Anyway ... I was in my junior year at college. Johan was there too, studying physics. He was always smarter than me. He paid for everything. Our tuition. Our books. Our apartment just off campus where we shared a room. He paid the bills and bought the food. I cooked. It was all I could do to contribute, so I learned to cook fabulous meals. At least I was doing something. We thought about living at home or in his house, but we wanted to enjoy the whole `college experience', so Johan sold his house across the street from my parents, we rented a one-bedroom cottage just a block from campus, and we moved in together. By then, we weren't even pretending. My parents and brother knew about the relationship Johan and I had. My parents thought it was wonderful. My brother thought we were disgusting, and so did his fiance. I wonder if she would have been just as disgusted if she had known my brother liked sticking stuff up his ass while he jerked off. Probably not. She might be one of those girls who likes to wear a strap-on. Okay, that's too gross even for me, and I'm rambling again. Back to Johan and me and my absolute stupidity ... Johan and I lived in our little place near campus for years, loving each other, becoming a couple in every way. We ate together, studied together, went to movies, took long walks around campus, made passionate love to each other, and slept wrapped in each other's arms. He was everything I wanted. Everything I needed. And I was the same for him. Then I fucked up. Her name was Kyla Ferguson. She had gone to high school with me. A lot of kids from our school attended ASU, so that wasn't all that unusual. I never really knew her in high school. She was into music and drama; I was into Johan. Kyla and I had just never spent any time together. Once we got to college, that changed. I was taking history and education classes. Kyla was majoring in music. She wanted to be a professional singer some day, but her backup plan was to teach music in high school. That's how we ended up taking the same education classes every now and then. At first, we only smiled and waved at each other. Then we started sitting next to each other in class, talking and catching up on our lives, heading for study hall after class to do homework, hanging out at my place to study for tests, and eventually eating meals I prepared at our place. Johan liked Kyla. But then, Johan liked everyone. I was the one who had trouble making friends. I was sure Kyla would like Johan better than me. He was funny and sweet and kind. He had such gorgeous platinum blonde hair. (Come to think of it, that kid Alex back in Florida looked a lot like Johan. Weird huh?) And Johan's sea blue eyes were so incredible. His lips were full and delicious. Hell, everything about Johan was delicious. I know. I'd eaten every inch of him at one time or another. So ... yeah ... I was sure Kyla would like Johan better than me. Turns out I was wrong. I found out how wrong I was when Kyla and I were sitting at the kitchen table, going over our notes for the next test. Johan was at the store, picking up groceries, so we had the place to ourselves. I wasn't sure what was going on at first. I felt something brush my leg under the table. Then I felt it again. It was Kyla's leg. She kept brushing against me until finally, she simply leaned her leg against mine, turned to look at me, and smiled. I didn't know what to do. I had never done anything with a girl. I had never WANTED to do anything with a girl. I had Johan. I felt my face turning red. I felt hot, flushed. My heart began beating faster. From fear? Excitement? I don't know. And my cock--the fucking little traitor--started getting hard. What the hell!? Kyla kept staring into my eyes, smiling at me. I guess she was cute enough. Most guys would think so. She had dark black hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. She had a nice, trim figure with ample bosoms. Or do I call them breasts? Hooters? Cha-chas? I don't know all those names for girl parts. Never had a reason to talk about them before that moment. Hey, I just realized something. Kyla looked a lot like Regina, that girl Miguel fell for. This is starting to freak me out a little. Anyway, back to Kyla. Kyla was smiling at me, staring into my eyes, and leaning closer and closer. I felt her breast touch my arm. It was hot. Not hot, as in sexy hot. But hot, like someone was pressing a hot water bottle into my arm. And my cock, for some reason, thought that was even better. I dropped my hand down there and pushed Junior around, silently ordering him to cut it out. Kyla smiled even bigger. She took a deep breath and said, "I've always thought you were cute, Lucas. All through high school, I had a little crush on you. Silly, isn't it?" I nodded my agreement. It was silly. I was gay. Didn't she know that? She batted her eyes at me and said, "I still think you're cute. Cuter now. You've become very mature and masculine." I didn't know what to say. I know what I should have said. Something like ... I'm with Johan, girl, back off. But I didn't. Kyla slid her hand onto my thigh and tilted her head up, licking her lips. "To be honest, I think you're one of the cutest boys on campus." I just nodded my head like I didn't have a functioning brain cell left in my big head. My little head took that as a sign to take control, and it swelled up to full size and began throbbing. Kyla's hand slid over and bumped into my cock. She smiled knowingly and grabbed it and started rubbing. I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my cock that didn't seem to care who was pulling on it. Betrayed by Johan, because he'd made me believe I was gay all these years when it turns out I could bone up for a girl. Betrayed by my heart, because it didn't tell me to run screaming out of the room and remain faithful to the man who loved me. Kyla unsnapped my jeans and lowered my zipper. Then she reached inside my underwear and began fondling my cock and balls. I closed my eyes and let her. Then I felt her lips on my neck, kissing me like Johan did, but her lips felt softer and more moist. She stood up and pulled me to my feet. She led me to the bedroom, where she slid my pants and underwear off, then pulled my shirt over my head. She unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a lacy white bra. She reached behind her back and did something to the bra that made it fly off and land on the floor, releasing her pink breasts with large brown nipples. She took my hand and put it on her breasts. They were as fluffy as the softest pillow, warm, soft. I barely touched them at first, but then I got into it. I squeezed. I lifted. I rubbed the nipples and squeezed more. "You can kiss them if you want," Kyla whispered. So I did. I even sucked her nipples for a few seconds. I didn't want breast milk squirting out into my mouth, so I didn't suck them long. But yeah, I sucked those bad boys. She stroked my cock while I sucked her nipples. Her hand felt so strange down there. Her skin was softer than Johan's, but her fingernails made hard little taps on my cock and on my nuts, and it was distracting somehow. I suppose most guys would have found it exciting. I guess I could have learned to like it, too, but in that moment, all it did for me was remind me that it wasn't Johan's firm grip holding me down there. Kyla dropped my cock and pulled her own pants off. I stood back and watched as she slid her panties down and kicked them away. Her body was smooth and hairless, except for her female zone, which was covered in a light layer of dark brown, curly hair. She wasn't bushy like me and Johan, although I didn't mind his bushiness. I kind of liked his light blonde pubes and the way his stomach was covered with a fuzzy layer of hair that turned into a small patch of curly hairs in the center of his chest. My cock seemed to like Kyla's hairless body more. It was harder than it had ever been and leaking all over the place. Kyla took that as permission to pull me to the bed using my cock to lead me. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me close, then started kissing and licking my cock. Her tongue was nice. It felt like Johan's, but her technique was different. It's hard to explain. She was licking with the tip of her tongue and looking up at me with this sexy pout. It felt okay, but it wasn't Johan. When he sucked my cock, he loved my cock. He wanted my cock. In his mouth. Rubbing against his face. Sliding over his tongue. He loved my balls too. He would spend ages just sucking on them, like he could pull the juice out of them without going through my cock. I guess Kyla could tell I wasn't into her `blowjob', if that's what you want to call it, so she scooted back onto the bed and fell backward, summoning me with her hand. I climbed onto the bed and fell on top of her. We started kissing. It wasn't too bad. Not what I expected, but okay. Then she slid her hand in between us and began fiddling with my cock, moving it around and rubbing it all over her. I felt her wiry pubes on the tip of my cock. Then little wrinkles of flesh. And a wet spot. Then she moved my cock again and I felt a tight little ring open around the tip of my cock as I slid up into a velvety smooth tunnel. It was amazing. Glossy as silk. Slippery. My cock loved it. I think it enjoyed it more than Johan's ass. I couldn't stop myself. I started thrusting up inside her. I started kissing her harder. I felt her breasts smashed against my chest and her smooth stomach underneath me. Her bony hips collided with mine as I started pounding my cock into her, harder and harder. I lifted my head and stared into her eyes, and they were wide with desire, and her lips were pressed tight with passion, and I just stared at her for a moment. Then ... it was like everything turned off for me. She wasn't Johan. She was a beautiful woman. She wanted me. But she wasn't Johan. I stopped moving and lay on top of her, with my cock slowly getting softer. She stared up at me, confused. The bedroom door opened, and Johan walked in, carrying his keys and wallet in one hand. He saw us on the bed. His mouth opened in surprise. His eyes filled with tears, and in that instant I saw resignation, misery, and heartbreak. Johan turned and walked out. I scrambled off Kyla and grabbed my underwear off the floor, jumping around trying to pull them on. Then I ran outside to catch Johan. He was in the car and backing out of the drive before I could stop him. I stood on the front sidewalk, half naked, my cock staining my underwear with Kyla's juices, and I watched my lover drive away. When I came back into the house, Kyla was in the kitchen, dressed, gathering up her books. She left without saying a word, as embarrassed as I was by the entire fucked-up incident. I didn't know what to do. I showered quickly and dressed, then I picked up the phone and called my parents. I told them what a huge mistake I had just made. They were sympathetic. Mom assured me it would be alright. Dad advised me to be a man and admit my mistake. I told him I didn't know if Johan would ever return and give me a chance to do that. Dad said he would--Johan was too good a man to do anything else. I sighed and confided to Dad that Johan deserved a better man than me. Dad chided me for saying that, because he felt I was a better man than I gave myself credit for. He said I had a good heart and I should trust my heart. I didn't say anything for a bit--I really didn't trust my heart anymore--so Dad did all the talking, challenging me to be the man he always hoped I would be. We kept talking until I heard the front door open. I turned around and saw Johan standing there. I told Dad I had to go and hung up the phone. I walked slowly to Johan, tears pouring down my face. He closed the door and took me in his arms, and we talked. For hours. He forgave me that day, and I tried to forgive myself, because I realized that my heart had chosen Johan. I guess that's why it hurt so much with Miguel. We both tried out girls. But my heart chose Johan. Why couldn't Miguel's heart choose me? You're probably thinking I'm a fool. And you'd be right. But I'm a fool with my heart in the right place. By the way, I didn't abandon Miguel, not like you think I did. While I was sitting there in our rental house in Ponte Vedra Beach, waiting for that taxi to take me away, I thought about a few things, including what happened in college with Kyla and Johan. And then I realized I couldn't do that to Miguel. I went back into the bedroom and picked up the note I left for Miguel and tore it into shreds. Then I wrote him another note. The new note said, `I love you, Miguel. I love you enough to let you go. I see now that you have a future with someone, maybe Regina, maybe another girl like her, but not a future with me. You had a moment in time with me. A chance to learn and to love and to discover what a terrific young man you are. So I will take a different path in life and leave you to explore your own direction. I'm leaving the RV in your care. Use it. Sell it. Keep it for a time years from now when you and your family need it for a vacation getaway. It's your choice, amigo. Yes ... you are my amigo. You are my very, very good friend. I love you and I will miss you. Check in the closet. I left something there for you.' Then I opened the closet and left one of the duffel bags inside. I think it held around $150,000 in cash. I trusted Miguel to make good use of the money with whatever lucky girl he chose to make his wife. He was a smart kid. I checked up on him a few months ago, secretly of course. He's in college now, studying engineering. He's engaged to Regina. I guess they were meant for each other, after all. I wish them both the best. Well ... they just announced final boarding call for Flight 253 with non-stop service to Paris, France. I've never been to Paris. I'm looking forward to learning a new language. I wonder if the banks in Europe are as easy to access as the ones here. Time to steal my way on board. The gems in the time stealer are looking quite shabby. Covered in pock marks. Eaten away. I've been using it too damned much lately. End of THE GIFT OF STOLEN TIME, Chapter Five