Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2000 15:26:22 CDT
From: Tim Foure <timfoure@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Summer of My 15th Year" 35 (adult-youth) (incest)

The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 35

by Tim Foure

copyright 2000

If you are under 18 or not permitted access
to homosexual erotica where you live, then
you should not read this story. The other
usual disclaimers too.
___________

Chapter 35

Friday night was the first time I saw Phil
that week. Because vacations had started,
his delivery schedule was very heavy each
day to cover part of someone else's route,
causing him to work until it was too late
for Ted to reasonably take me to his
apartment and pick me up. And the two days
he made deliveries to the dream house were
the same days I was working for Steve. I
told him the minute I walked in there was
going to be sex.

"I haven't even had supper yet," he
replied. "I'm hungry!"

"Want to fuck me while you eat?"

"No, I want to get a shower and eat and
relax. Then maybe there'll be sex."

"What if I can't wait?"

"I know you know how to jerk off. I've seen
you do it."

"How about if I suck you off right now?"

"Not a good idea. Sweaty and dirty as I am,
you sure don't want to get close to what's
inside my foreskin."

"I'll fix your supper while you take a
shower. What are you having?"

It turned out to be two frozen dinners, a
total of 900 calories. I let him think I
was going to cook them for him, but as soon
as he was in the shower, I called one of
the chain restaurants on the main highway
and ordered a meal to be picked up. I put
the dinners back into the freezer.

When he stepped out of the shower, I was
waiting with a towel.

"Let me dry you," I asked.

"Ok. But dry only. No funny business."

"No funny business," I promised.

But I couldn't resist pulling his foreskin
back and sucking the head of his dick for
just a minute.

"Tastes clean now."

"Lucky you. Believe me."

As we came out of the bathroom, I told him,
"Put some clothes on."

"Why? I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are. You need to drive me
someplace."

"You're leaving?"

"No, we're going to get your dinner. I want
you to have something better than diet
frozen dinners and there's nothing in your
refrigerator but bacon, eggs, and beer. I
like you the way you are. I don't want you
losing any weight."

"I really don't feel like eating out
tonight. I'm beat."

"I ordered it for carry out. If you won't
drive me, gimme your car keys and I'll go
get it."

"What're you, crazy? You can't drive yet.
They catch you, they'll lock your butt up."

"Then pull on a pair of shorts and drive
me. Cause I know you sure don't want my
butt to get locked up." I winked at him to
make sure he got it.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped
his feet into his sandals.

Later, as he was finishing his dinner and
his second beer, he said, "Thanks. That was
a whole lot better than the diet meals."

"I guess so!"

"But I still think you should let me pay
you for it."

"I earn my own money. Why shouldn't I spend
it on you?"

"Well, you don't earn as much as I do."

"And I don't pay for where I live or for my
food or anything. That's something I wanna
talk about anyhow."

"What?"

"Next week when we're at the beach, you
can't be paying for everything."

"Of course I will. I invited you."

"No. You have to let me pay my way."

"This was supposed to be a present. I
wanted to give it to you. First the
surprise gets screwed up and now you want
to go Dutch."

"I'm sorry about the surprise, I really am.
But the best part is gonna be being there
with you and nothing about that is spoiled.
I don't want to go Dutch. I just want to
give you stuff too. You have to let me pay
for meals and stuff some of the time."

"I get it. Ok, some of the time. But not
for the room and stuff like that."

"No. But I'll bring the rubbers and the
lube. I wanna make sure we'll have enough."

"I shoulda known what you really had on
your mind!" he said as he swatted at me.

I ducked, smiling, dropped to my knees, and
wrapped my arms around his waist. I was
pleased that he'd understood.

"Don't squeeze!" he yelled. "I'm too full!"

It turned into a cuddly evening in front of
the tv. About half way through I decided it
was going to be an evening without sex, the
first Friday that that had been true. But
when we settled into bed, Phil got a second
wind. I first became aware of it when I
felt his hardon growing against by butt.

"You're getting a hardon," I said over my
shoulder.

"I know."

"I thought you were too beat for sex."

"That was then. This is now."

"What if I'm too tired now?"

"When have you ever been too tired?"

"You got me on that one," I said as I
rolled over to face him.

"Got you for sure," he said as he grabbed
my hard dick.

"You mess with that too much, you'll get a
hand full of cum."

"I do and I'll smear it in your hair.
Wouldn't be the first time anyhow."

"I like having it smeared in my hair. Like
it better if it's your cum instead of mine
though."

"Won't take much to make me cum. I haven't
all week."

"All week!" That was hard to believe. I
always think I'm being deprived if I don't
cum two or three times a day.

"Yeah, all week. I been dragging in here at
night almost too tired to eat. It's been a
rough week."

"Then you lay back and let me do this, ok?"

"We can start that way and see how things
develop," he said as he rolled onto his
back.

I immediately renewed my acquaintance with
his dick. The precum began to flow as my
tongue touched it. I pulled his foreskin
past the head and let the well it made fill
up as I licked his balls. When it was full,
I pulled the foreskin back and let the
precum run down his dick. I stroked it
loosely, using the precum as a lubricant.
Finally I lowered my mouth over it ,
keeping it wide open so neither my lips nor
my tongue touched it. I felt the head move
into my throat, and last of all I felt my
lips press against his pubic hair.

Phil began to moan when the head of his
dick made contact with the slick membranes
of my throat. I had kept his foreskin
retracted to uncover the very sensitive
skin of the head. My throat became a
replacement for his foreskin, cradling the
head of his dick against a soft, silky
surface. I stayed still for a minute,
holding my breath.

When I had to breathe, I tightened my lips
around the base of his shaft and pulled
upwards along the length of his dick while
I rubbed the back of the shaft and then the
frenulum with my tongue. Phil's moans got
louder.

When my lips reached the ridge of the head,
I stopped withdrawing and forced my tongue
inside his foreskin, which I had pulled
back into place as my head moved away from
his belly. I circled the head with my
tongue slowly. It was slick from my saliva
and his precum.

While my tongue went round and round the
head of his dick, I pulled his foreskin
down with my fingers around the base of his
shaft. I pressed my head down slowly, again
letting the head of his dick slide into my
throat. I twisted my head slightly back and
forth while I swallowed to squeeze the head
of his dick. Phil's breathing became
ragged.

I thought he was ready to cum, so I
tightened my lips around his shaft and
pulled up slowly. When I had only the head
in my mouth, I rubbed it vigorously with my
tongue while stroking the shaft with my
fingers. His hips lurched and the first
shot of cum raced across my tongue and down
my throat. He continued to buck as he came.
I wrapped my hand around the base of his
dick to control the depth of its
penetration in my mouth. After the last
spurt of cum left his dick, he continued to
shudder. His dick shrunk rapidly while
still oozing the last of his cum.

I moved up beside him with my head on his
shoulder and he pulled me against him.

"That was so great!" he whispered to me. A
minute later he was asleep.

In the morning he was considerably more
energetic, fucking me shortly after we woke
up. He still had something of a hair
trigger, so he came before he could bring
me off. He made up for it by sucking me off
afterwards. Later in the morning he fucked
me again, long and slow. This time he made
me cum while he fucked me. We had just
finished when I had to leave for Steve's.

"Pick you up about eleven tomorrow," he
told me as I left.

Steve had lunch ready when I arrived. After
we ate, I helped him move his furniture out
of the bedroom. He had already begun
stripping the walls back to the supporting
structure and had stuffed insulation
between the studs on one outside wall.
After I mowed and showered, we traded
massages. Again he tucked my hardon away
for me when it escaped my shorts. And again
there was no hope his own was going to be
forced into the open. On Monday, that
changed.

That morning it was damp and unseasonably
cold. Steve showed me that he had sealed
the vents in his bedroom and bath and had
closed up the door between the bedroom and
the rest of the house with a double sheet
of plastic.

"There's no way I could live with this mess
all over the house," he told me.

I knew what he meant. When they put up the
sheetrock in the dream house, there was
plaster dust everywhere.

We worked all morning on moving one of the
outside walls of his bedroom from where it
was to the edge of the porch and on
installing a set of french doors. This
added almost five feet to the length of the
room, which now opened directly onto the
area enclosed by the fence. It was after
noon when we finished installing the
blackboard on the outside of the new wall.

"Let's pick up there tomorrow. I'm
starving," Steve told me.

"So am I!" I told him.

Since the door between his bedroom and the
rest of the house was sealed up with
plastic, we took off our shoes sitting on
the edge of the porch and went in through
the kitchen door. He went into the laundry
room, leaving me where I was.

"We can just drop our dirty clothes in the
washer," Steve told me as he took off his
shorts and socks.

But when he opened the washer, he found it
full of wet clothes.

"I must've forgotten to put these in the
dryer last night. Having a mess around
messes up my thinking.  It throws off
everything I do."

He transferred the wet clothes to the dryer
and started it. He held out his hand for my
clothes and dropped them along with his own
shorts and socks into the washer. He filled
it with more dirty clothes from a laundry
basket, added soap, and started it.

He led me through the guest bedroom into
the other bathroom and told me I could have
the shower first. While I showered, Steve
stayed in the bathroom. He was unusually
quiet, not speaking until he began drying
my back.

"Wonder if there's any chance the
electrician would come tomorrow," he said.

Although I knew he was thinking out loud
rather than actually asking me, I replied,
"Probably fifty-fifty."

"I'd really like to get the wiring
installed in that wall and for the hot tub.
We can't sheetrock the ceiling or that wall
until it's done."

"Always call and ask," I said as I took the
towel to finish drying myself. "Not that
you can trust the answer."

"That's the truth. But the last guy who did
wiring for me came when he said he would
both times."

"Don't lose track of him. Ted'd tell you
how unusual that is."

"I'll call him this evening and see. Can't
get him during the day anyhow. You just get
his machine."

Having decided on how to proceed, Steve
then stepped into the shower while I sat on
the toilet holding a towel and waiting for
him to finish. I dried his back and waited
while he finished drying the rest of
himself. I would have felt comfortable
going into his dresser and getting a pair
of shorts for each of us, but his dresser
was sitting on end in the guest bedroom and
the drawers were stacked up in the corner.
I had no idea where to find the shorts.
Besides, I didn't want to miss even a
minute of seeing him completely naked.

It turned out that Steve didn't know which
drawer in the stack contained the shorts
either. He moved two before he decided
every pair was in the laundry.

"Maybe the stuff in the dryer is finished,"
he told me.

But when we got to the laundry room, the
dryer was still running. He opened the door
and felt the clothes.

"Hot and damp," he said, closing the door
and starting the dryer again.

"No problem. I can just get my mowing
clothes from my bike." But as I said that,
it occurred to me I would have to have
something to wear to do it since my bike
was parked on the side of his house which
faced the street. Before I could deal with
that problem, Steve offered a different
solution.

"I've got some clean boxers we can wear.
Not much difference between them and shorts
anyhow."

I followed him back into the guest bedroom
and watched while he shifted several
drawers in the stack a second time. He came
up with two pair of boxers and held them
out.

"Pick one," he told me.

I did. As I was stepping into them, it
occurred to me I had been naked long enough
by this time that it was beginning to feel
normal, almost like being naked at home. I
nearly said we didn't need to bother with
the boxers, but then I thought of the
massage.

Steve pulled on the other pair of boxers
and led the way to the kitchen. We worked
together to prepare lunch, me pouring tea
and him dishing out the chicken salad with
grapes that he had made. We were both so
hungry we literally gobbled it down.

As we were finishing our tea, Steve said,
"It's cold in here."

"Yeah, I guess it is," I replied, noticing
it for the first time. We usually had one
cool week at the beginning of June, but
this was unusually cool even for that. It
had just missed being cold enough for frost
the night before. I had been warm enough
when we moved outside to attach the
blackboard, but I had noticed it was still
very cool as I was taking off my shoes.

"I'm gonna turn on the heat. How about a
cup of coffee?"

"Sounds good to me."

I watched him walk out of the kitchen to
the thermostat. As he came back, I noticed
that his boxers had snaps, one at the waist
and one in the middle of the fly. The one
on the fly wasn't fastened, so the fly
gapped. I couldn't see anything except
pubic hair, but the idea caused my dick to
stir even though I'd seen him naked less
than half an hour earlier.

We carried our coffee into the living room
and sat in our usual places to drink it.
The material of his boxers was supple, but
not nearly as supple as the material in the
shorts he usually wore, so I could tell
where his dick and balls pressed against it
but couldn't see an outline as I usually
did. Again I thought how funny it was that
I was more turned on by seeing hints of the
shape of his dick than I was when I could
see it completely uncovered.

We sat there in silence sipping our coffee.
I was at the bottom of the cup when Steve
said, "Ready for your massage?"

"You bet," I told him.

"Let me grab some towels," he told me.

On Saturday he had suggested we lie on
towels since the carpet didn't provide much
of a cushion. He returned with several and
spread them one on top of another. I lay
down, arranging my dick so it was pointing
up my belly rather than down over my balls.
I felt Steve sink down over my butt,
pressing his own against mine and the bare
insides of his thighs and calves against
the bare sides of my belly. My hardon began
to grow right away.

He began with my shoulders, kneading them
hard and forcing his fingers into the
muscles. I had learned he wouldn't continue
that way so I endured the pain. After a
short while the pleasure of his hands on me
combined with my full stomach and the
growing heat of the room to cause me to
become drowsy. I enjoyed my half-asleep
state until I felt his hands moving down my
back, which had become my signal to give
him my complete attention. It also caused
my dick to become fully hard again.

As he slid off my butt onto my thighs and
hooked his fingers into the waistband of
the boxers, he told me, "Lift up."

When I did, I felt him pull the boxers down
over my butt. I also felt my hard dick go
out the fly. It was a feeling I knew well
because it had been happening to me
regularly from the time I had changed from
briefs to boxers. A few seconds later I
felt the waistband at the top of the fly
catch at the base of my dick. From that
point the massage continued as it had the
other times. He rubbed my back down onto my
butt, giving both cheeks a good kneading.
Then he moved to kneel between my legs and
began on my thighs, pushing the boxers
partly over my butt as he slid his hands
inside them, something which I had begun to
find very erotic.

After he finished with my feet, he told me
to turn over. I knew my hard dick would be
completely visible, but I wasn't as
concerned about that as I would have been a
week earlier. Since I couldn't think of
anything to do about it that didn't involve
pulling the boxers back up to my waist,
something we hadn't done previously, I lay
on my back and ignored it.

But Steve didn't. "That's one of the
problems with boxers," he said.

"Don't I know it. Happens to me all the
time."

"Used to happen more to me than it does
now, but it still happens." As he spoke, he
lifted the waistband of the boxers and let
my dick slide back inside.

I could feel the elastic pressing against
the back of my dick when he let the
waistband back down. Somehow there didn't
seem much point to wearing the boxers any
more. After all, not only had he seen I was
hard, but he admitted that the same thing
happened to him.

"I hope you're not still getting
embarrassed about it."

"Well, I'm getting there," I told him

"Good," he told me as he stepped over me
and got down on his knees and sank onto my
middle. While I couldn't actually feel
anything besides the material of his boxers
against my dick, in my mind's eye I saw his
balls pressing against the back of  my dick
just below the head. It throbbed in
response to the image. I wondered what he
thought about that.

The movements of his body caused his crotch
to rub against my dick, keeping me very
excited. When he began to move his butt
downwards over my thighs as his hands moved
down my torso, he suddenly stopped and
stood up.

"Be right back," he said.

I looked down while he was gone and saw
that the head of my dick was sticking out
past the waistband of the boxers. I also
noticed that I had produced a small pool of
precum under the end of my dick. I found
out he had noticed it too when he returned
with a towel. He knelt between my thighs,
but before he settled he wiped up the
puddle of precum from my belly.

I raised my head to watch what he was
doing. "Sorry about that," I said.

"Just normal stuff. Happens to all of us,"
he said. He pulled the waistband of the
boxers down a short ways, took hold of my
dick, dried the head, and pulled the boxers
back up over it. Then he began massaging my
thighs.

When we swapped and he lay down, I pulled
up my boxers and straddled his butt. It
turned out there was no good way to wear
the boxers as far as my dick was concerned.
It continued to poke out through the fly as
I leaned over to put pressure on his
shoulders. At first I thought about pulling
them down so the waistband would hold my
dick back against my body, but then I
decided it didn't matter considering what
had already happened.

After I kneaded his shoulders thoroughly, I
began to work my hands down his back. I
didn't have to tell him to lift his middle.
He did it automatically as I got to it. As
I pulled his boxers down, I felt the
waistband suddenly become much looser. I
realized the snap had come open, but before
I did I had pushed them most of the way to
his knees. I was going to pull them back up
part of the way, but before I could, he
lowered his middle, reaching under himself
as he settled. I knew he was adjusting his
dick.

I massaged his lower back and his butt. I
was ready to move down, but to do that I
had to kneel between his legs, and it was
going to be impossible for him to spread
them since he was hobbled just above the
knees by his boxers.

"You need to lift up so I can pull up your
boxers," I told him.

He bent his knees instead, raising his
calves to a vertical position. "Just pull
them off. It'll be easier. I mean if it
won't embarrass you."

I pulled them off and settled between his
legs. "No, I'm ok with it," I told him. "It
is easier," I added as I slid my hands up
his thighs and over the cheeks of his butt.
I could see the back of his balls between
his legs and my mind was already on seeing
his hard dick for the first time when he
rolled over.

"I think we know each other well enough now
that we don't need the shorts any more.
They just get in the way. And it's not like
there's any reason to be modest with each
other."

"No, I guess there's not," I said, thinking
that he'd certainly seen all of me.

>From then on it was all I could do to keep
on massaging him. All I could think about
was that he would be naked and hard when he
turned over.

When the magic moment finally came, he
rolled over and settled into a comfortable
position on the towels as he had done the
other times. My eyes went immediately to
his crotch. His dick wasn't much longer
hard than it had been soft, but it was much
thicker. It stuck out from his pubic hair
and then bent downwards immediately and
curved to his left. The head was large,
pointy, and clearly defined around its
base, not only extending out from the shaft
all the way around, but almost seeming to
come down over it slightly. His dick was
also twisted slightly so that I was
actually looking at the side of the head
rather than the front. It sat next to his
left ball.

I looked for just a minute before I moved
to straddle him. I remembered he had moved
his dick each time at this point, saying it
was necessary to prevent his balls from
being mashed. Pointing it upwards when it
was obvious its natural direction was down
seemed a painful choice. I know my dick
doesn't like being bent the wrong way when
it's fully hard. So as I got ready to
settle onto his middle, I took his dick in
my fingers and asked him, "Where's the best
place to put this so I won't mash you?" I
thought he would take hold of his dick
himself, but I wanted to make sure I got a
chance to feel it first. Instead he let me
deal with it. It was very hard.

"Pull it out from under you until you get
settled and then just let it go wherever it
wants," he told me without even opening his
eyes.

I did as he said, delighted to have the
chance to hold his dick a bit longer. I
took the opportunity to wrap my hand around
it as if I was simply getting a better
grip. There seemed to be no convenient
place to put it except under me. I held it
towards the left, its natural direction,
pushing it upwards as far as it would go
before I felt serious resistence. Then I
lowered myself the rest of the way,
trapping most of the shaft between my
crotch and thigh and his belly but with the
head still showing. As I moved while I was
massaging his shoulders and chest, it crept
out from under my leg and moved along my
thigh in an arc until it was standing up in
the angle between my leg and my crotch. The
bottom of the shaft pressed very firmly
against my balls. The head had left a trail
of precum along its route and then began to
soak the material of the boxers. My own
dick was moving in and out of the fly as I
leaned forward and pulled back and had
soaked both sides of the fly in the
process. It was very hot to look down when
my own dick was sticking out and see the
two dicks side by side and pointing
upwards.

As I worked down his chest and belly, I
moved my hips down onto his thighs. His
dick continued to press against my crotch,
slipping downwards as I moved down his hips
and wetting more and more of the boxer
material with precum. At one point I could
feel the head pushing firmly against my
balls. I could even feel the wetness of his
precum on my balls.

As much as I would have liked to have
stayed where I was, I had to move between
his legs to continue with his massage. His
dick settled in over his left ball with the
head beside it. As I knelt between his legs
and massaged his thighs, I watched drops of
precum form on the end of his dick and drop
to the towel, each at the end of its own
glistening thread..

Finally I reached his feet and completed
the massage. It was hard to say whether I
was sorry or glad that it had come to an
end because the urge to grab his dick was
very strong and I was sure I would ruin our
friendship if I did. I decided I was
actually glad when he stood up and pulled
on his boxers.

"How about a glass of tea before you go?"
he asked.

"Sounds great," I said.

After a short while, I changed into my
mowing clothes. Steve told me he would call
me to let me know when to come back. It was
going to depend on when the electrician
finished his work.

I left ready to explode. I used the trimmer
to jerk me off at the first house I mowed.

To be continued
_______________
Comments appreciated. Send them to
TimFoure@hotmail.com. Flames ignored.

Previously posted chapters can be found at
www.nifty.org in the gay male archive,
incest category.