Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 12:35:53 -0700 From: jay roberts Subject: "Climbing Towers, Part One" by Jay Roberts Gay Adult "Climbing Towers" Part One, by Jay Roberts Gay Adult +++I think I see, through the magic eye of my computer, some kids under eighteen who are attempting to read this story. Please leave at once. This story is only for older people. I do not invite you. Note: Do you think that Nifty is sponsored by a federal appropriation? No, it is supported by your contributions. It's better than way, I think. Who wants another agency in our affairs. If you believe in free speech and almost free fun, send some money Nifty's way. Bud North stood in front of Ray and Tom's Caf‚. He licked his dry lips, dry from being 150 feet up on a cherry picker platform in full sun, He could almost taste the beer he had been dreaming about all day. His thick, pink, muscular tongue flicked again as he entered the caf‚. Bud was a steeplejack. He and his four man crew traveled the country doing jobs that no one else would attempt. Jobs like painting church steeples, repairing roofs ten stories high. Heights that ordinary people are wary of, never bothered these men. They scampered along roofs and hung from ropes, paint cans hung from their web belts. They were like gypsies, no home, only the job and their trust in each other. He was big guy, six feet four inches, with a wide frame and powerful legs. He unsuccessful attempts to hide his good looks were only slightly successful as men and women starred at him hungrily. He never lacked for sexual encounters, never had to work for it. His blond hair needed a barbering as it grew shaggily on his neck and the forelock over his eyes. The color matched the stubble of his beard. Still his perfect nose, intense blue eyes and full mouth defeated his attempts at looking rough and tough. There was that odor. The smell, slightly sour, of a working man. The combination of sweat and paint was intoxicating to his sexual partners. His fellow workers were finished this easy job of painting the spire of the local church, and were scattered around town seeking fun and booze. That was his mission as well as he pushed open the screen door of the caf‚. The bell over the door tinkled too What he didn't know was that Ray and Tom, twins, now 24 years old, ran this caf‚ as a coffee and tea shop with home made scones and small tea cakes. A little gay, but then so were the boys. Twins yes, but so identical that they could shave looking at each other without a mirror. They were little guys, no more than 5' 2", and still looked like fourteen years old, what with their smooth cheeks and shiny black hair that fell in bangs to frame their chocolate brown eyes. Bud pressed his lean, muscular belly against the counter and spoke to the neat aproned back of Tom. "Beer and a double whisky chaser." Tom turned around, already entranced by the husky voice, but when he looked at the male dream in front of him, his pale face reddened. Bud knew by instinct that the lovely boy in front of him was his prey for the afternoon and he allowed a full smile to form on his face, exposing his gleaming teeth. "I'm sorry man, we are a tea room," then he reddened from red to flaming scarlet as the not intended doble entendre set the tone of the encounter. Tom and Ray were very sexual beings, not with the world out there, but for themselves. They loved each other and after work, sometimes in the afternoon one of them would merely raise an eyebrow and in an instant they were undressed and happily in their favorite sexual position, bodies reversed and a wet mouth on a each's member. So it was rare that either boy was drawn to an outsider. But Bud, this dream of masculinity and perhaps danger was overwhelming interning. Tom was not likely to let this big fish off the hook. "I do have a bottle of brandy in the back. Would that do?" "Sure. Let's go back. I'm a steeplejack and climbing all day raises a thirst." Then looking down at the boy/man, he added, "Many kinds of thirsts." Tom turned and motioned for the blond giant to follow, feeling his own ass clamping as it felt the stare raking it. Bud's big hand was suddenly resting on Tom's slender neck as they entered the back storeroom. Tom freed himself from the hot hand on his neck and put a glass with ice cubes in it on the table and handed the bottle to Bud who took in with his very large hands and poured half a glass of the potent stuff. Tom thought that the guy would be drunk quickly with this 170 proof lightening and mentally rubbed his hands conspiratorially. At that moment Ray came into the room. "I need help out there, Bro. Hey what's going on, who's this person?" "He's my new friend, Bud. He's drinking Pa's homemade brandy," and he raised on thick dark eyebrow telling volumes to his twin. Bud looked from one to the other shaking his head in disbelief. "What we got here, Tweedledee and Tweedledum?" They ignored him, except for pouring a hefty refill that the smelly Bud downed quickly. He already seemed to be affected by the almost pure alcohol as a crooked smile was playing on his stubbly face. "Whew, that stuff's the greatest. I needa sit down. I'm gettin' wobbly." "Yes friend," Ray said as he put his hand on Bud's big shoulders. "You make yourself comfortable. Would you fancy a beer?" Tom turned to Ray. "He wanted beer but I told him..." "I use it in one recipe it's way in the back, behind the honey." Bud lifted his suddenly heavy head and croaked to them, "Yeah, beer, tha's what I wanted." Out came the beer and it was poured into the glass with a remains of the second brandy. It was cold and felt soothing after the sting of the brandy and Bud smacked his lips in appreciation, but then he seemed to sag in the chair and his face froze in a pleasant smile that made him look like a sixteen year old version of his tough self. Ray kneeled down in front of Bud. "What are you doing?" Called his brother. "I'm just checking him, he's totally out of it. What should we do?" Tom giggled. "I say close the shop and get this boy back to the house." Their cottage stood just out the back door of the storeroom. It was a tidy arrangement set up by their father who ran the little eating place as a full menu restaurant. The boys made the change to a coffee house because it was so much easier. Ray nodded in assent and went into the eating area. There was only two tables still munching their scones and slurping tea or coffee. Ray announced, "We have to close early today. Just take your time and finish your food. Just leave the money under the place mat." He returned to the backroom where he found Tom playing with Bud's face. He was tracing the full lips and rubbing the whiskery cheeks. Ray put his hands on his hips. "What are you doing? You think you got a toy to play with?" "I do, and I did some naughty things while you were out front." "Like what?" Ray was interested. "I checked out his equipment, and I don't mean ropes and harnesses." "And..." "And I say let's get him home. I think you needs a bath, though I hope some of that lovely odor stays." "And maybe a shave," his brother said. "Give me a quick kiss and then let's haul our prize home." Ray pursed his soft lips and Tom put a hand on his brother's hair and drew him close and kissed him hotly. Soon they were in their usual swoon of passion, amplified by the presence of the gorgeous stranger. They parted, heaving breaths like a steam engine. "Tom, grab one arm over your shoulder and I'll get the other one and we'll drag him home like a wild beast we caught in the forest." In a moment of grunts and complaints they got the show on the road. Gradually they made their way into the cottage and down the hall in front of the bathroom where they allowed the blond boy to slowly slide down so his back was against a wall and his feet splayed out in front of him. He wasn't totally unconscious as he mumbled, "Got beer left?" Tom said, "He a total alcoholic. Should we give him more?" "Sure, it'll be easier to handle him if he's passed out." Tom ran back and brought a glass and the bottle. "Forget it, he just sunk into a stupor, run the bath while I undress him." "Oh no dear, sweet Ray. That's too much for you to do alone. I'll turn the tap and be right back." When Ray came out of the bathroom Tom had already opened the man's shirt and was admiring the breast work there. "He's got big breasts." "That's pecs from climbing and such. Leave the nipples alone for the time being." Ray pulled the shirt away completely. "He's got a lightly hairy chest. Nice, especially that blondish color." "Agreed," said Tom huskily. "I can't wait for more unveiling. He opened the heavy belt buckle and with one pull it came away out of the loops and Ray was already opening the fly buttons. "Not like that. You just give it a pull and they all open at once." "How do you know that? Experience with sailors?" "I think I read it." Ray pull the flats open revealing, not undershorts as he expected, but smooth, soft, faintly hair belly flesh. He turned to Tom, "I guess these guys have to have a minimum of clothes to be washed because they are on the road all the time." "He sure never washed these jeans. They are stained with different color paint and other things I'd rather not know." "But the smell is heavenly." "Yeah Brother," and he took a big whiff. "I get hard just smelling him. "You get hard if I just raise on eyebrow." "True, you want to..." "No, let's get this boy in the tub. Ray took off the stained shoes and socks. "We ought to get his stuff into the washing machine before the house is condemned." There he lay, totally nude, looking for all the world like a statue pulled down from the Parthenon his neat round ball sac, and his broad penis laying asleep on top of it. They both stared and instinctively put there arms around each other in rising passion. Tom shook his head to clear it. "Come the bath is ready, lift him in. We can have fun soaping him up." It was a lot of tugging and pulling but both boys were pretty strong, in spite of their diminutive size and there the big guy lay with his head resting on the tube edge and his prick floating just above the water like a periscope. They selected a lavender soap and began lathering him and rubbing their hands over his check, neck and hair. This was a shampoo and body wash. Bud, deep in dreamland seemed to like it as he smiled and murmured with pleasure. Also his organ inflated and stiffened happily. It was thought he was erecting a tower and the boys would gladly climb it. "Tom, don't keep washing his prick, it'll go off too soon ans spoil the fun. We got a lot to do after he's cleaned up." "Like what?" "Stuff with his hair. He needs a haircut. You do our hair, so you can barber him. Then the shaving and..." "I don't think we ought to get a blade on him. We might cut the dear." "No, your electric razor." "Oh, and what about the other hair, you know, body hair?" "I wouldn't touch it. It's just perfect. We don't want to turn him into a male escort." "Just a little pubic trim, it's so hairy down there, from hip to hip." "No, absolutely no. We'll leave him natural." They pulled the stopper in the tub and sat the young guy on the edge and toweled him off. He seemed to like it and smiled even more broadly. When he was dry Ray began his haircut. "He's got lovely hair. So thick. I think I'll let it be longish but more even." Tom got busy with the electric razor. When he finished they surveyed their work. "He's a different person." Ray said "He looks much younger, almost a pretty boy." Tom started to undress. "Let's play with him." Ray stopped him with a firm hand. "Don't be weird. He's like a dead body. It would be rape. What kind of guys are we do such a thing?" "I guess you're right. We'll put him in Dad's old room and tuck him in until morning, but then....!" "Yeah...then....!" During the night they had trouble sleeping even though they had a nice suck fest. They each was dying to check out the sleeping hottie, but were restrained by the other. Finally they fell into a fitful sleep until the morning light awoke them. They both heard a few coughs from their father's old room. "He's up," Tom said. "Me too," Ray said. They both got up, naked as they always slept and padded down the hall. End of Part One