From: Eguene.Smith@p1.f400.n244.z1.gryn.org (Eguene Smith)
Date: 18 Aug 95 16:56:18 
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: "A Day With Jon" (m/m)
Message-ID: <093_9508182112@tor250.org>
Organization: Gateway: * D.u.N * iNViSiBLe CouNTRy -+ DuNDaS, oNT. CaNaDa +- 
Lines: 232

Sometimes there are "fringe benefits" to a job that you never even think of.
Like the time Jon's mom asked me to paint their kitchen one weekend for
$3 an hour or $25, whichever was less.  I thought it would be a nice 
diversion to watch Jon while I worked--a lot less boring than doing yard
work for sexy Mrs. Paradis--but really the money was the thing that made me
accept.

I knew Jon from school, of course--you couldn't help noticing him, he's the 
shortest kid in the school. He was in his sophomore year, so I didn't see  
him much...only a glimpse in the hall now and then.  But that glimpse was 
enough to keep you going for the whole day. He was kind of small, and 
puny--I don't mean he was little; I mean there were French hilites to him, 
nice soft skin everywhere you looked. He had cute freckles and a tight ass 
that you could watch forever. Sad blue eyes looked out of a round face, and 
a cute red mouth.  His hair was blond and short, but curled under at the 
back of his neck.  No sharp edges anywhere.  When he first came to the 
school, I thought he'd cause a riot. New glands weren't strong enough for 
the strain of watching him sway back and forth down the hall. I remember 
the time he was wearing a Brett Hull jersey one day as he walked past 
the athletic field. Three guys at football drowned in their own hormones. 
Oh that reminds me of the time he puked at a track meet. He was the fastest 
kid on legs. That's how he got the nickname Jon "Pukey" Paradis. Even his 
name was great--Jon.  The last name wasn't so great: Paradis. Jon...Paradis.  
Oh well.  On a spring day, hanging out with the guys, all you had to do was 
sigh, "Jon," and they all knew what you meant.

Anyway, when Mrs. Paradis asked me to paint her kitchen, the money was
all I really thought about.  It would be nice to see Jon, but I had 
conditioned myself not to hope for too much.  Too many nights of aching need
had left me a little older and more cynical.  I never expected anything to 
happen between him and me.

I came to their house in my shorts and T-shirt.  (One of the great things 
about doing odd jobs is you have an excuse to walk around in people's nice
houses dressed like a slob.)  Mrs. Paradis was just getting ready to 
leave for an Open House across town--she was a real estate agent which was
keeping the money coming in--Mr. Paradis works as a lawyer, wow, I mean
this kid's rich. His dad even coaches Jon's Dundas Bantam hockey team.

"By the way," she said over her shoulder, "Jon will be helping you."
I shouldn't have been surprised.  By the pay I mentioned earlier, you could
tell Mrs. Paradis was on the cheap side.  She was getting Jon to help
to make sure I came in under 25 dollars.
Almost on cue, Jon came into the hall in denim jeans and a T-shirt and a 
white painter's cap I bet he bought just for that day. He even had his 
hair tucked under his hat. He really didn't think he was going to
get any paint on himself. I heaved a sigh, silently hoped he'd screw things
up enough so it would cost $25 anyway, and set to work.

I worked on the ceiling and he worked on the lower cabinets.  I pretended
it was to save him from straining himself, but the real reason was to watch
him bending over.  I wasn't concentrating at all, and I had to clean up 
mistakes more than once.  Jon was feeling pretty saucy, and teased me 
about my sloppiness and his own impeccable work.  He wasn't getting any 
paint on himself either, after all.  I was getting badly tempted to put some
on him.
For a moment I sensed something going on behind me.  I turned around and he
was pretending to paint my rear end with a roller.
"I'm fixing your face," he said.
I reached over with my brush and swatted him on his little nose.  He yelped
as if he had been bitten.  "Get it off!" he cried.
"Relax, it's just a little paint."
"Get it off!  It's going to hurt my nose!"
I wet a towel in the sink and carefully wiped off his nose. He was pouting
like a hurt little child.  "Is that better?"
For an answer, he grinned like a wolf and hit me full in the face with a 
loaded paintbrush.

After about three hours (only $9!) I had to admit that we were done.  We got
everything together and took it into the backyard to wash out.
They had a big backyard with high walls--at least 8 feet--and a patio, and
a lawn with soft green grass, warmed by the summer sun.  We took the garden
hose and rinsed out the painting tools, and then our hands (and face).  I
gave Jon the hose and watched him wash the one bit of paint he got on
himself, on the inside of his thighs.
"Can I help you with that?" I grinned.
He stopped, and slowly started to raise his head.  By the time I saw that 
grin again on his face, I realized I had made a tactical error by giving him
the hose.
"Don't...you...dare."
He stalked toward me with the water pistol, looking just like a murderer
stalking his prey.
"Don't...even...think it."
He giggled in an evil way and kept walking toward me.  I got the idea I 
could wrestle the "gun" out of his hand.
Bad idea.
I got it in the face for the second time that day.  I tried grabbing the hose 
from him again, then finally made a retreat.
"You better not let me get ahold of that hose, kid," I said as threateningly
as I could.  But I couldn't help smiling, either at the thought of what I was
going to do to him, or at the expression on his face.  He still had that 
wicked smile, the tip of his tongue between his teeth.  Such a doll face,
such an evil smile!
I "rushed" him and got soaked, but this time I got ahold of his wrist. (I
think I grabbed something else for a moment, but I'm not sure.)  He curled
up into a ball, trying to keep me from getting control of the "gun."  He
didn't dare press the handle in that position.  Perfect.  I crouched over 
him, slowly moving my grip up to his hand.  "No, no, please don't," he
half laughed, half squealed.  I reached his hand and closed his fingers over
the handle.  The stream of water shot him square in the stomach.
He put up with it for three whole seconds, screaming at the top of his lungs,
before he dropped the hose and ran.  I picked up the hose and soaked him
good just as he got around the corner of the house.
This went on, back and forth, as the game got "dirtier and dirtier," ambushing
each other, wrestling (with the hose getting less and less attention), until
I had him cornered.  "No, please don't, please, I'll do anything," he pleaded,
laughing so hard he was almost crying.  I stalked him, playing the mock 
rapist, holding the hose suggestively at waist-level...then I stopped.
I couldn't believe it!  His hair was dry!  After all that, his hair was still
perfectly combed, and not a drop of water on it!
Slowly, menacingly, I advanced toward him, unscrewing the "gun" from the 
hose.  My God, what evil deed did the mad rapist have in store for his victim?
Jon stood there in the corner, beside himself with laughter, and yet now
almost a little afraid of my expression.  I stalked toward him, closer,
closer...
...gently lifted the hose over his head and let the water pour down on him, 
ruining in a moment his handsome hair. He stood there, ready to burst
either with laughter or tears, I don't know which...I was laughing.
The release of that moment was tremendous.  Everything changed.  I stood 
there, still holding the hose, watching the water pour over his head, his 
shoulders, his body...lovely body...
His face was relaxed, his eyes closed in rapture as he let the water wash 
over him.  I stood very close to him, really noticing everything for the 
first time; how the water sparkled in the sun, how it flowed over his shoulders
down to his body, where his nipples showed through the soaking wet fabric;
his soft, golden legs, little drops of water gleaming on his skin;
his round, studly angel face, with such an expression of enjoyment;
his bright blue eyes, now looking into mine.
I moved the hose down to the back of his neck, the water pouring in a sheet
across his shoulders and down his back, over his lovely ass. He arched
his back, pressing himself against me.  Very softly, I touched his lips with 
mine, slowly kissing him more and more deeply, pressing against him, letting
him feel how hard I was for him. He wanted to feel it.  He met the
force of my body with his own, letting me feel every part of his softness
against me.  I let the water pour down between us, feeling the delicious
warm flow lubricating us, but not cooling the heat.  
I put the mouth of the hose against his nipple and the water squirted up into
our faces.  Laughing, I stepped back and moved the hose back and forth over
him, letting the water play over his body, watching the different directions
it ran down.  Jon looked at me, his angel eyes filled with such lust.
He bit her lower lip...or did he say something to me?
I stepped forward again and unzipped his jeans, then let the water trickle
down inside.  We kissed deeply, our tongues flicking across each other 
playfully.  He reached around me and pulled off my T-shirt, then stepped
away so I could get a better look at him as he peeled off his own top, 
never for a moment taking his eyes off me.  His penis was small yet slightly
pointed, reminding me almost of Hershey's Kisses, andwith the little round 
tips of his nipples too. I went to him, then down on my knees and took his 
erect penis in my mouth, sucking in as much as I could.  He bent slightly to 
meet my kiss, letting a little cry escape from his throat. My tongue swirled
around his little penis, then licking all around, back and forth, Jon
squirming more and more.  Loking up at him, I saw his face turned up toward
the sun, basking in the warmth above and below.  He bit his lip again, but
I seemed sure he was saying something under his breath.
I took the hose and stood up again, and took him in my arms.  I reached 
behind and lifted the edge of one leg of his jeans, and slipped the hose
up inside, between his legs.
He put his arms around my shoulder and nuzzled his face against my neck,
pushing back against the streaming water, feeling it gush against his body
and between the cheeks of his ass.  I watched his legs moving slowly,
obscenely in little circles, and the water dripping out of his shorts, and 
started feeling very thirsty. He ran the tip of his tongue around the edge 
of my ear and whispered something.  This time I heard what he said.
He unbuttoned my shorts and pulled out my stiff cock. He took it in both 
hands and started stroking up and down.
He pulled the hose out of his white undies and got down on his knees. He 
took the hose in his mouth and started going up and down on it, licking it 
around the opening. He was going crazy--and so was I, just watching him. He 
took a bit of water in his mouth and then went down on my cock.  The feeling 
was incredible. He held his lips tight around me as he slid my cock in and
out of his mouth, swirling the water around with his tongue until he 
swallowed and sucked the water off my stiff dick.
"Don't cum yet," he said.
"I'm trying not to."
He slid his tongue up and down, then poured water over my dick as it lay on
his tongue.  I couldn't believe I was watching this hot dude, ready
to swallow my cock whole. He pulled my shorts the rest of the way down, 
then rolled onto the grass and peeled off his own jeans.  I watched him as 
he rolled around on the soft grass, moaning with lust, both of us ready to 
explode. He wrapped the hose around him like it was a snake, pulling it
between the cheeks of his ass, over his body, and up to his mouth. He 
rocked his legs back & forth, rubbing it between his legs.
I went to him and knelt beside him on the warm soft grass.  I could feel
my stiff cock waving in the air as if looking for something to go into.  I
took the hose from Jon and let the water pour over him, reminding me of
syrup pouring over a stack of pancakes.  I let the water trickle onto him. 
He rocked his legs up & down as the water splashed onto his penis.
I moved between his legs, and still letting the water pour on his, I moved my
dick back and forth, matching his rhythm so the tip touched the outsides of 
his ass, then deeper and deeper with each stroke, so that before either of us 
knew it we were fucking in the soft wet grass, my cock moving in and out to 
meet each thrust of his butt.  I bent down to nibble and suck on his lovely
penis.  Jon cupped it in his hands, lifting it up to my mouth so that
I could suck on it more.  The speed of our fucking increased, then slowed,
as we enjoyed every inch of the pleasure we gave each other, then sped up 
again as our animal lust took control.  I felt I was in a dream.  I had 
watched this handsome guy from afar, had him in my fantasies, and now it
was really happening; I was fucking my sweet Jon in the soft summer grass
in his back yard.
The moment came rushing upon us.  He wrapped his legs around my back and held
me tightly as I pushed all the way into him then stayed there.  We kissed 
long and deeply as I felt myself shooting inside of him, the sensation of his 
rectum contracting around me as if to milk me dry. We lay in the sun together, 
perfectly content, kissing and stroking each other lovingly, gently.  
Eventually we got up, turned off the hose (the yard was a swamp by then) and 
went inside.  While our clothes were in the dryer, we showered together to 
get the grassy smell out of ourselves, while we discovered the pleasures 
soapy water and bath oil could bring. An hour later we sat contentedly on 
the sofa, Jon's hair perfect once again, watching TV when Mrs. Paradis finally 
came back.  She was amazed at how good a job we had done.  "Everything's so 
neat and clean--not a speck of paint anywhere!"
"We cleaned up very thoroughly," I said.  Jon & I gave each other a grin 
behind his mother's back.
"How long did it take?" asked Mrs. Paradis as she opened her purse.
"Oh, it only took--"
"--Five hours," Jon said.  "We would've finished sooner, but I kept messing
up--he had to fix all my mistakes."
I looked at Jon, letting him know with my eyes what kind of a present he
was going to get from me.  If he thought he had a good time today, just wait
till next time.
"So that's 15 dollars," Mrs. Paradis said.  "Oh, here--25 dollars.  I 
really couldn't keep it from you--not after the *wonderful* job you did!"
She looked at the kitchen as if she were viewing a painting.  "You're quite
a handyman.  We have to find more jobs for you to do around here--I have to 
get you in this house as often as possible!"
"I sure hope so!" I said.


ooo If NPD and PC were on a sinking ship, who'd be saved?  CANADA!
--
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