Date: Fri, 5 Nov 2010 14:34:13 -0500 From: Dale Dalton Subject: watcher III Please be advised that, in the following story, one will find depictions of sexual activities between minors and adults. The story itself and all characters are fictional. The Watcher III Ronnie was awakened by the knock. Then Aunt Mary said through the door....... "Ronnie, I am leaving in just a few minutes, do you want to come?" Ronnie had to smile. "No mam I am still tired." "OK Sweetie, I should be back by 11 and then we can go to lunch, it's going to be a beautiful day, and I will take you shopping." Ronnie lay in his bed listening to the neighborhood waking up. And that was not all that was waking up. Ronnie reached down to the pouch of his briefs and felt his cylinder begin to grow against the fabric. Last night was something he never imagined could happen. How often had Ronnie wanted to be noticed. How many times had he stood on the fringe wanting to belong. There is a pecking order to things and first you have to find your place, and next to want to try to move up. So much of it is about being good at sports. Whether team or individual getting noticed there is most important. Ronnie knew he was not as far along as some of the guys. Every week he would stand in front of the mirror, trying to see if his muscles had gotten larger, or his pecs were getting more defined. Ronnie would slide his underwear down and feel how the area above his shaft was slowly becoming a mix of darker hairs to go the with soft down of boyhood. Ronnie was maturing, but others were so much farther along. Stealing looks in the lockerroom whenever possible he wondered who was the boy who made the most juice, who had the biggest balls to make that fluid which all boys needed to milk from themselves. So many of the guys in the lockerroom were probably gigantic when they got hard. And hard is just what Ronnie was, as he heard his aunt's car pull out of the driveway. Now he had the place to himself. Slipping under the elastic band Ronnie's fingers found his has and begin the ritual that has started the morning for so many for so long. Closing his eyes, Ronnie harvested images that always worked for him. Thinking of who might be watching as he began to move his had. And thinking of watching his friends as they did the same for themselves. Then reaching to touch. Wanting to share. Exploring the sensation as resting your hand on a friend close by and helping him, while helping yourself. And maybe, just maybe, the favor returned. What could it possibily feel like to have that disconnected hand cup and hold your jewels and shaft. It was only a dream. The Ronnie did what he did most Saturday mornings........ Reaching down, Ronnie picked up one of his socks. You basic white sock all 13 years olds wore when they played sports. Slipping the sock over his rock hard cock, Ronnie rolled on his stomach and began to push against the mattress. Rising and falling, thrusting and feeling the tingle. Ronnie moved the pillow between his smooth thighs, and began to go on instinct. About two months again Ronnie began humping his pillow and quickly learned the intensity was far stronger when he was not pumping his shaft. He would use his thighs to hold the softness in place. Arching his back as he would get close. Rocking and rising against the sensations of the thrusts. His tight young smooth bottom rishing and falling now. Ronnie threw the covers off as he thighs clutched the pillow and held it for his penetrations. A boy learning how do needs to be done. The Ronnie remembered last night. The man, the watcher. A pair of eyes looking right at him. A man seeing that Ronnie was producing fluid. A man seeing Ronnie pump his young haft until the pulses wetted his skin. The Ronnie saw the man show his approval in the best way possible. The watcher became the watched and Ronnie watched his spill his sign of appreciation feet from where the naked boy lay. I quiet whimper. The flood began. Boy juice dampened, then created a soaking spot on the sock veering Ronnie penis. He had cum again. Yes, Aunt Mary, he thought , I did want to cum. Ronnie rolled onto his back and removed the sock, damp with his product. Placing a finger below his nutsack Ronnie rubbed and worked his finger up his boy shaft. A drop of milk pushed through his pee slit. His juice, what made him who he was. His shaft remained at full attention as Ronnie closed his eyes, cupped himself, and dreamed it was another hand......not his.....supporting his production orbs. Feeling the hairless globes, now held tight by his scrotum. His thumb and first two fingers went to the base. Gripping his shaft he closed his eyes and began to pump. His head was still sensitive, but now, when he had the house to himself he wanted to just feel the flow again of his internal warmth. Opening his smooth, pale legs slightly he continued to pump himself. Not quite 5 inches and cut, Ronnie felt the steel of his young boyhood as he slowly began to find his rhythm. His left hand moved to his chest, running over his nipples and down his flat boy belly. He wanted a 6 pack. He knew when the time was right he would have that muscle definition. Then people would look, then they would watch. But now it was only Ronnie. His legs slightly opened and his right hand going up and down as he worked his rod. His pale, slender, smooth body rested against the pillow. Ronnie turned, and became alarmed. There, on both sides of the screen was dried juice. One side from a boy, one from a man. Ronnie suddenly realized he would need to clean the screen. Up on his knees his heart was pounding. He could feel his pulse in his hard boy cock, now fully exposed to the window. He unlatched the screen at the base, slide off the bed and went to get dressed. As happens with many boys as they get in touch with the changes they are going through they change some of their behavior. Ronnie took the cum coated sock and sloved it between the mattress and boxspring. Then he found the shorts his mom had packed. Dark blue polyester. He looked for what underwear and put on.............then decided the erotic feel of no underwear would be nice. Outside of the house, a strange neighborhood, and Ronnie just hanging, letting the air touch the inside of the shorts and let him be loose. A sleeveless white T shirt and flip flops and he was out the door in less than a minute. Going around to the side of the house he looked for a hose, damn, it was around back. Ronnie went through the gate, got the hose and brought it back. He was bent over screwing the nozzle on. "Hey." Ronnie whirled around, mouth and eyes wide open. "You Ronnie?" asked a smiling kid that Ronnie made for about 16. "I'm C.J., you aunt said you would be in. We just moved here about 3 months ago. So what ya doin?" "Uh got to kind of clean up, I promised my aunt I would do that. She's gone and I want to do it before she gets back." C.J. was probably 5-8, 140. He was a light skinned African-American. By comparison Ronnie was about 5-2, pushing 100. "You need a hand?" Ronnie's heart was pounding. What if C.J. saw the stuff stuck to the screen and knew what it was! And Ronnie with no underwear on, how stupid was that! He thought. "Naw, I'm good, thanks though." "`K, how long you in town for?" "I leave on Monday." "OK, well I think your aunt had plans for us all to do something, so we'll catch up later." " Oh, OK, uh great. Later. " Ronnie said. Shit that was close, I wonder if he knows I jack off? I wonder if he knows I am about to wash cum off the screen that I shot last night? I bet he knows and he was just not letting me know he knows. The thoughts poured into Ronnie's head. He went and turned on the water. Ronnie adjusted the spray to jet and leaned the screen against the house. He took aim and passed the water back and forth against the crusted evidence of last night. Within two minutes it had washed into the dirt. The evidence was gone. Ronnie shut the water off and headed in to take a shower. His secret was safe. Probably. Only he and the watcher knew.