Date: Thu, 24 Oct 2002 18:03:03 -0700 From: Seabear Subject: Too Far 2: Can't Fight This Feeling The following story contains sex between an adult and a teenage boy. The story is true. I'd love to hear your comments and suggestions and notes - email me at seabear36@yahoo.com. "Can't Fight This Feeling" by Seabear36 (This story continues where "Too Far" left off - you can read that story at gay/adult-youth/too-far) The guy who fucked me in the bathroom at work ignored me for about two weeks afterwards. I tried to say hi to him once or twice, but he just ignored me. It reminded me too much of the time I'd had sex with a friend in 8th grade and how he never talked to me again. Ryan and I kept at our endless weeding job around the plant. I was a bit distracted for a couple of days as I went over what had happened to me over and over. Ryan had just turned 15 before the summer started, and he was quickly becoming a good friend as we kept plugging along at this drudge work that we were doing. Forty hours a week during the summer, making $3 something an hour yanking weeds out of what was probably toxic dust. But we were making it fun. I tried not to think of the man so I could pretend that his ignoring me didn't hurt. I avoided the locker room where he'd fucked me in a toilet stall and I didn't look at him when he walked past. I was just about to ride my bike out of the parking lot after work one day when he pulled up next to me and asked if I wanted a ride home. I nodded and threw my bike in the back of his pickup and jumped in. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, we passed by Ryan and I waved. He didn't wave back, but just watched us drive past. We rode in silence for a few blocks and I finally spoke up. "How's it going?" "Good," he said. He lit up a cigarette and drove with it hanging on his lip. He was wearing a blue t-shirt that hung tight on his chest, and his long hair blew in the wind from the open window. "How about you?" I nodded. "Good, I guess." He looked over at me for a second. "You want a beer?" he asked. I told him I was 16, which wasn't really and answer but he just grinned and pulled over at a 7-11. He came back out with a 6 pack of Bud and tossed me a can. He opened his own and took a long draw. I took a drink from my can. We started heading up Market Street toward Phinney Ridge. I realized that I hadn't told him where I lived and he didn't ask. "My name is Sean," I told him. "I know, " he said, flicking ashes in the ashtray, "I'm Tim." "Where are we going?" I asked. "Well, I can either drop you off at home or we can go somewhere else." He looked at me for a second. I looked down at my legs. My blue jeans were filthy from weeding the yards all day and I felt sweaty and dirty. He was dirty, too. But I was horny. "I'm not in any hurry to go home," I told him. He grinned and nodded and turned up toward Woodland Park. Woodland Park was about three blocks from my house, and I'd spent hundreds of hours running around the trails there. I'd found tissues and condoms and even underwear and I wondered what he had in mind. He pulled in to the upper picnic area and stopped. He took a long swig of his beer and drained the can. He lit up another cigarette. I looked out the window at the familiar trees and paths and didn't say anything. I could feel my cock getting hard just thinking about what might happen. He didn't say anything; he didn't even look at me. He popped the buttons on his 501s and pulled his pants down to his knees. I looked over at it and at him. His thick cock was semi-hard, just starting to stir. I looked at the size of it again and wondered how I'd ever had that thing in my ass. "Suck it," he told me. I looked around and didn't see anybody else in the parking lot, but I knew there were always people in the park. "Someone might see," I told him. I knew places in the bushes were we could go and not be seen - I'd jacked off in them dozens of times. He put his hand around my neck and pulled me down toward his cock. "I said suck it." I did what he said. I couldn't resist sucking this cock I'd been dreaming and masturbating about for the last two weeks. He smelled of sweat and body odor after sitting in the crane booth in the hot sun all day. It was a little unpleasant, but my horniness was winning out. I attacked his cock like a man dying of thirst attacks an oasis. I closed my lips over his rigid shaft and tasted pre-cum on my tongue. I made a furrow in my tongue and ran it up and down the underside of his massive shaft and I bobbed my head on his lap. He reached his rough fingers down the back of my jeans and grabbed at my ass cheeks as I slurped and licked him. I heard a car drive past and was about to pull up but he kept my head down with his hand. "Don't worry, kid," he said. "They can't see anything." He moaned and I moaned. He thrust his hips and jabbed his cock against the back of my mouth and made me gag. I reached down to release my own cock so I could jack myself as I sucked him, but he pulled my hand up and told me to roll his balls with it. I reached between his legs and felt the hair between his swollen nuts and his ass and began to run my fingers toward his hole. He yanked my hand back up and told me that was off limits and to stick with his balls. The whole time, my jaws ached from the intruder in my mouth. My own cock was so hard it almost hurt, but every time I tried to touch myself he took my hand away and had me do something else. I licked the fold of skin along the underside of his cock. I put my lips on it and sucked it into my mouth. I ran my lips up and down the shaft as if I were playing a harmonica. Then I ran my tongue to the tip of his penis, put my lips against it and keeping them and my tongue tight against the shaft I lowered my head into his lap. He moaned and dug his nails in to me. I began a slow, deliberate and tight sucking and I could feel his cock grow even larger and more rigid in my mouth. His head was firm and pulsing and his breathing was heavy and fast. "Oh, Jesus, boy," he said through clenche d teeth. I kept at the long, slow sucking. My jaws were on fire from the unaccustomed position. I kept sucking my breath in so the inside of my cheeks touched his cock. One of his hands was tangled in my hair and the other just rested inside my pants on my ass, clenched tight. He pulled at my hair, lifting my head up and then pushed my head down as he started to set the pace of my sucking. I felt his leg muscles tense. I felt his breath catch. I felt a series of pulses along the bottom of his penis and then I felt him paint my tongue with semen. I tried to pull off but he forced my head down with both hands, trying to bury his cock deep into my throat as he pumped what seemed like endless loads of hot, thick semen into my mouth. He shouted and bucked his hips and I began to swallow the bitter nectar he was feeding me. Finally, he pushed my head back and took a deep shuddering breath. The smell of his sweat was on my face and the taste of his semen coated my mouth like some obscene mouthwash. He pulled up his pants and started the engine. I was ready for him to do something with me, but he wanted me gone. "See you around," he said, lighting up another cigarette and opening another beer. "That's it?" I asked. My cock was still raging and I'd just swallowed his cum. "Get the fuck out," he said. I did it, and barely had time to grab my bike before he sped off. It took me a longer time than usual to get home - my nuts ached and my cock wouldn't die down. I went right to my room and shucked off my jeans, grabbed my cock and began to jerk off even before I laid on my bed. It only took a short time before I was shooting messy wads of watery cum all over my belly and chest and mattress. I lay there on my back, the cum running off my chest and onto my sheets. I was frustrated and angry that he'd used me. He dumped his cum in my throat and didn't even mutter a thank you. I wiped my tears and my cum with the same towel. The next day at work, Ryan and I were working along side the fabrication shop pulling weeds when Ryan asked me what I was doing in the truck with Tim. I thought for a second that he'd seen us at the park. Then I remembered that he saw us drive past as we left. "He was just giving me a ride home," I told him. "My mom said I should stay away from him," he told me. "I heard he's gay." I didn't catch his eye, but I knew he was watching me. I felt my face turning red. He put his hand on my shoulder as he stood up. "That's cool, though," he said, "nothing wrong with that." I looked up at him. He smiled. "Just don't try any of that stuff on me." But I would. And that is another story.