Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2000 06:59:09 CDT
From: Tim Foure <timfoure@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Summer of My 15th Year" 46 (adult-youth) (incest)

The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 46

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 46

After I had chatted with Ted, I rode into town on
my bike to mow. It was quite a change to be riding
a bicycle after having driven the Explorer. Ted
had followed my mowing schedule while I was away,
so I simply picked it up and continued with it.
But I was so preoccupied with thoughts about Phil
and what we would do that I paid little attention
to the work. Several times I came close to mowing
down flowers and finally I did run over a toy
which had been left on the lawn, shredding it and
spreading the pieces across the grass. I
apologized to my customer, who happened to be
home, and told her I would replace the toy.

"You oughta be more careful, ya know?" she told
me. "Somebody coulda got hurt."

I apologized a second time, being told again I
ought to be more careful. I was then given the
information I would need to replace at full price
the toy which she had surely bought at a discount
on the net. After that I was more careful, forcing
the issue of Phil into the back of my mind. I
bought the replacement toy when I finished mowing
for the day and delivered it to the customer on my
way home. It cost more than I had made mowing her
lawn.

Monday night I called Steve to see if the carpet
had been laid in his bedroom.

"No, it hasn't!" he told me in a very exasperated
tone of voice. "They didn't show up the day they
were scheduled to come. No call, nothing. I waited
all day. They've rescheduled twice and each time I
had to call them after they didn't show up. The
first time there was an excuse for not coming. But
it was 'yeah, well' when I asked why they didn't
call and tell me so I didn't have to sit there and
wait for them."

"I know how that is. I remember when people
wouldn't show up while we were building this
house."

"Well, if you can believe this, they just called
and want to come tomorrow."

"They'll probably show up then. I mean, they
called you this time."

"If it wouldn't mean I'd never get my carpet laid,
I'd just not be here tomorrow."

"Don't do that! You never will get it laid if you
do."

"Yeah, I know it. But I sure am tempted! Hey, can
you come over Wednesday morning and help me put
the furniture back? I mean, assuming they really
do come lay the carpet tomorrow?"

"Sure, no problem. What time?"

"Any time. Won't take long to put the furniture
back in my bedroom and empty out the other one so
I can get started on that. I'll make lunch."

"Great! I'll come around nine."

Shortly after I hung up from talking to Steve,
Phil called. We had a very unsatisfying
conversation. I had thought we would talk about
how we could deal with the problems which now
existed, so I brought the subject up. Phil stopped
me dead in my tracks by saying, "I think we ought
to wait and talk about that when we're together. I
don't want to talk about it on the phone." After
that we talked as we had talked virtually every
night for the weeks before we left for vacation. I
had enjoyed those conversations then. Now it
annoyed me because I wanted to get on to the real
issue. I wondered if wanting and having would
continue to be two different things for the rest
of the week. I started looking forward to Friday.

When I got off the phone with Phil, I sent a page
to Ted and waited for his response, which came
quickly.

"Hey, Sport! What's up?" he asked once the chat
screen came up.

"Phil won't talk to me," I told him.

"You mean like he's mad at you or what?"

"No, he's not mad or anything. But I wanted to
talk about what we're gonna do now about us and he
won't do it."

"Why won't he do it?"

"Doesn't want to talk about it on the phone. Wants
to wait until we're together. But that won't be
til Friday!"

"Not too unreasonable, Sport. You two have a lot
to talk over if you're gonna make this work. It'll
be easier if you're right there with each other
for the talking."

"I guess he's thinking that way too. But I don't
want to wait!"

"He might need the time to do some thinking too,
ya know. You dropped it on him kinda sudden."

"But he said he felt the same way!"

"But he didn't know you felt that way til you told
him, did he?"

"No, guess not."

"Well, he might already have decided some things
and now he's got to think about them all over
again. I mean, for all he knew you just liked the
way he fucked. Now he finds out you like him for
more than just his dick."

"Aw, he had to know that!"

"Don't be too sure. And anyhow, he can't just
sweep you off your feet and carry you off to his
place. You're way too young for that."

"Yeah, that's making me crazy too. All last week
he was there all the time. Now he's not. I miss
him bad!"

"I know you do. I bet he misses you bad too.
Specially now he finds out how you really feel
about him. Ya know, he could be feeling like he
wasted all last week. I mean, last Monday he was
thinking you two were just friends and fuck
buddies and that was it. This Monday it's a whole
different ball game. See what I mean?"

"Yeah, guess I do. It's just so dumb. I felt like
this about him for a long time but I felt funny
saying anything. Like he'd think I was just a kid
having these weird ideas. Now it turns out he was
feeling the same way."

"But he probably thought you'd think he was just
this older guy having these weird ideas so he
didn't say anything either."

"Yeah, I bet you're right. Like when he told me he
wanted us to do other stuff besides just fuck all
the time. Stuff we could do in front of other
people and all. He had to know I thought he was
weird when he first started talking about that.
But now I understand it. I thought being in love
meant you were happy all the time."

"Nope. Being in love means you make the other
person happy all the time. But on your side you
just have to take your lumps. So you okay about
waiting til Friday to talk about it?"

"No. I still hate to wait. I'm gonna bitch and
moan about it all week, but at least I know why
I'm waiting now. Thanks."

"No problem. That's what big brothers are for."

After we ended our chat, it occurred to me to
wonder what Ted had done for a big brother back
when he needed one, but nobody came to mind who
could have helped him out the way he always helped
me.

Tuesday I continued to be preoccupied with the
situation with Phil. As I told Ted I would, I
bitched and moaned about it, but only to myself. I
was feeling particularly put upon even though Ted
had helped me understand the reason for Phil's
wanting to wait to talk about our relationship.
The overcast sky didn't help my mood either. As I
was finishing the fourth lawn, it began to look
more and more like rain and I began to feel the
occasional drop. The weather forecast had called
for rain, but I was hoping it wouldn't start in
earnest until after I had finished mowing. The
only lawn I had left on my schedule for the day
was Mr. Morris's.

My first thought was to skip his and head home.
Then I decided if I got soaked cutting his lawn,
my shorts and T would end up plastered against my
body and Mr. Morris would get a big thrill. In the
back of my mind was also the memory of Walt and
the other guys at the beach going outside naked to
give their neighbor a show.

But the weather cooperated beyond my wildest
expectations. I was about half a block from Mr.
Morris's house when there was a sudden electric
blue flash of lightning accompanied by a pop that
surprised me so much I jerked upright on the
mower. It was followed almost immediately by a
loud crack of thunder, and the rain started
falling in huge drops. I was soaked to the skin
instantly. I urged the mower to move faster with
my body even though it was in the highest gear and
making all the speed it could. I drove straight up
Mr. Morris's driveway at full speed and didn't
apply the brakes until I was well under his
carport.

I had barely stopped when the kitchen door opened
and Mr. Morris yelled over the noise of the rain
and almost continuous thunder, "Hurry up! Come
inside!"

He didn't have to ask me twice. A few seconds
later I was standing in his kitchen dripping on
the linoleum.

"Stay there. I'll get some towels," he told me.

I stood there, feeling the water which was
draining out of my Tshirt and shorts as it ran
down my legs to fill my sneakers. The temperature
had dropped suddenly when the rain started so I
was shivering by the time I stopped the mower. In
contrast, it was very warm in the kitchen and I
began to sweat.

Mr. Morris returned with several towels. He
dropped one at my feet and told me, "Step out of
your shoes onto the towel."

I did as he said. As soon as I had moved to the
towel, he picked up my sneakers.

"Your shoes are half full of water," he told me as
he carried them to the sink and emptied them.

In the meantime I pulled my T over my head and
pushed my shorts down. I was just stepping out of
them when he turned and saw me.

"Oh," he said.

I had gotten so used to being naked in front of
strangers, much less people I knew slightly, that
I never gave it a thought. Now my idea about
giving him a thrill by letting him see me with my
clothes plastered to my body rushed back into my
head. I suddenly got embarrassed. Holding my
dripping shorts in front of my crotch, I said,
"Sorry." I wasn't sure what I was sorry for.

"Oh, it's not a problem," he said in a high,
rushed voice that told he was nervous and possibly
embarrassed too. "I was going to let you wrap
towels around your wet clothes so you could go
into the bathroom without dripping on the carpet.
It didn't occur to me you'd just undress here in
the kitchen."

"I wasn't thinking about it, I guess. I just
figured the faster I got my clothes off, the
sooner I'd stop dripping. Could I have one of the
other towels?" I made it clear by gesturing toward
the towel I was standing on and the wet clothing I
was holding that I couldn't move from where I was
without dripping water all over the kitchen floor.

Mr. Morris had laid the towels on the counter so
he could pour the water out of my shoes. He seemed
to remember them only after I asked for one. "Oh,
sure." He was flustered as he picked one up and
brought it to me.

As I took it, I held up my wet shorts and T as if
to ask what I was supposed to do with them. In the
process I uncovered my crotch. I saw Mr. Morris's
eyes shoot to my dick and then come back to the
clothes I was holding.

"Give those to me," he said, taking the wet
clothes, balling them in the palm of one hand to
hold the water in, and carrying them to the sink
where they joined my sneakers.

I had gotten over being embarrassed by this time,
probably more because I felt bad about how nervous
I was making Mr. Morris than for any other reason.
He had always treated me well and I was grateful
for his getting me out of the storm that was still
going full strength outside. I decided I ought to
try to make him more comfortable with the
situation we were in if I could. I also decided to
give him a chance to get a good look at me if he
wanted one.

I used the towel he gave me to dry myself off. I
turned and twisted slowly while I was doing it, as
if I was trying to dry off every part of me. I was
careful not to look at him so he could feel he was
looking at me without my knowing it. And he did
look. When I finished, I draped the towel around
my shoulders and used it to dry my hair, covering
my face in the process and giving him one more
chance to take a good look without having to sneak
it.

I left it around my shoulders as I walked over to
the sink to see about my clothes. My shoes were
tipped against the side of the sink upside down so
water could run out of them, but my clothes lay in
a ball on the bottom of the sink. I picked them up
and twisted them in my hands, ringing out the
remaining water.

I was at a loss for what to do next. If I had been
at Steve's, he would have put my clothes in the
dryer without my asking. I didn't feel comfortable
asking Mr. Morris to do that. I had just about
decided I would have to pull them back on wet to
ride home after the rain stopped when Mr. Morris
said, "I can throw those in the dryer for you.
That is, if you can stay long enough for them to
dry." He seemed flustered as he spoke.

"That'd be great. I mean, if you don't mind me
staying long enough for 'em to dry. Doesn't look
like the rain is gonna let up real soon anyhow."

"I certainly don't mind your staying until it
stops!" he said quickly and in a high, nervous
voice as he plucked the shorts and T from my hand.
"And I'm not about to put you out while it's still
raining." With that, he fluttered to the dryer on
the other side of the kitchen, threw my clothes
in, and set the timer for what looked like an
hour. Since both shorts and T were synthetic, it
was likely they'd be dry inside of ten minutes.

Then he seemed to notice my shoes. "I don't know
what we can do with them. Should I put them in the
dryer too?"

"No, guess not. I'll just have to wear 'em wet.
Maybe if you just let them stay where they are,
they can drain until I leave. At least they won't
be squishy that way."

He made a face. "Sounds awful, squishy shoes. I
can just imagine what that would feel like." He
shivered to make his point.

We both laughed when he did, which seemed to make
him less nervous for the minute.

All this while I was standing there naked with a
damp towel around my shoulders. My dick had
reappeared from its hiding place in my pubic hair
once I had warmed up, but I was in no danger of
getting a hardon. I suppose, generally speaking, I
was fairly comfortable. Mr. Morris seemed to be
more comfortable too even though he tended to
fidget as if he didn't know what to do with his
hands.

We looked at each other for a minute before I
asked, "Ok if I sit down?"

"Oh! Where are my manners! Of course you can sit
down." He pulled a chair out from the table for me
and I sat. He pulled out another chair and sat
opposite me. He was barely down when he jumped
back up and asked, "Do you want something to
drink? A soft drink? Or maybe a cup of coffee? Do
you drink coffee? I just thought you might be
cold. I suppose I could make tea if you don't
drink coffee. Or cocoa, I have some cocoa here."
He started opening cabinets.

"A soft drink would be great. I was cold before
but now I'm warm enough."

He slammed the cabinet door he was holding and
rushed to the refrigerator, pulling the door open
with a jerk. There was a clatter of bottles
banging into each other as they slid along the
shelves in the door. Extracting two cokes, he
slammed the refrigerator door to the muffled noise
of bottles clinking again. Having opened one soda
can, he set it in front of me and dropped back
into the chair opposite me to open the other. We
both took long swigs from our cans, set them back
on the table, and proceeded to stare at them to
avoid staring at each other.

After a minute or so I realized that Mr. Morris
was probably staring straight at my crotch through
the glass top of the table. He seemed to realize
what he was doing at about the same time. He
jumped suddenly, rising half way from his chair.

"I just now thought. Would you like something to
put on? I don't know what I have that would fit
you. Everything I have would be too big. I have a
bathrobe but it's wool. That would never do. Not
during the summer. And it's not very soft. You'd
roast and itch at the same time. I've had it
forever. It was a gift. I never wear it because
it's so uncomfortable. But I can't throw it away.
It was a gift, you see."

His speech became slower as he finished speaking,
almost as if he had run out of steam, and at the
end he dropped back into his chair. I understood
two things from what he said and the way he said
it. First, he wanted me to stay naked. And second,
either he couldn't think of a good excuse for
keeping me naked or he couldn't bring himself to
say that was the way he wanted me. I decided to
help.

"That's ok. I can't stand wool. It makes me itch
like crazy. I'm fine just like this."

There was a look of obvious relief on his face.
"Well, if you're sure . . ."

He began to allow his eyes to focus on my crotch.
I was thinking he had reached the same conclusion
that Phil had helped me reach the week before
about the nude beach, that if it was ok with me to
be naked in front of him and I was comfortable
with it, then it was also probably ok with me for
him to look at me.

"Yeah, I'm just fine. I'm kinda use to it now."

He became embarrassed again. "I didn't mean for
you . . . I just wasn't prepared for . . . I mean,
just to let you stand there with no clothes on and
not do anything was . . . I'm sorry. I wonder what
I could get for you to wear?" The last was said
with his index finger on his chin and a faraway
look in his eyes.

"Hey, no problem, really. I didn't mean I got use
to it since I been here. I meant I was already use
to it."

His mind returned from his wardrobe, his eyes
focused on me again, first my crotch and then my
face, and his interest perked up.

"Really? How did that happen? I mean, how did you
. . . ?"

"Get use to it? Well, last week I went on vacation
with a friend of mine. One of the things we did
was go to a nude beach." Knowing he had the
reputation for keeping completely to himself, I
decided there was virtually no chance he would
ever pass this information along to anyone I
didn't want to know it.

"Oh, I could never do that," he said, his hands
suddenly fidgeting in front of him like a pair of
birds startled off their branch. They finally
lighted on his soda can. "I'd be afraid I would
get," and there was a long pause followed by,
"embarrassed." He blushed on the word.

I understood immediately what "embarrassed" meant.
"Yeah I was afraid I'd get embarrassed right off."
He smiled at me when I used the word and cast a
lingering glance at my crotch to see if there was
any sign of embarrassment there. There wasn't, but
I spread my legs slightly to make sure he had a
clear view of whatever he wanted to look at. "But
it was funny. My friend said it wouldn't happen to
me. He went to nude beaches before. And it never
did, not even once. And I never saw anybody else
get embarrassed on the beach either."

"Did you go there more than just the one time?"

"Yeah. After I saw I wasn't going to get
embarrassed, it seemed kinda silly to wear clothes
to go get wet."

"It does seem silly when you say it like that.
But" and there was another pause, "doesn't
everybody stare at you?"

"They look but almost nobody stares. Course I
looked right back."

He seemed to mull that over while bending the tab
on the top of his soda can back and forth. Then he
said suddenly, "I guess that's why you've got a
tan now where you didn't have one two weeks ago."

I was going to answer him, but before I could, he
continued, speaking very fast and fidgeting with
his hands agaiin. "I mean, I had noticed before
when you were trimming the lawn that your shorts
would sometimes pull down a little ways in the
back and there would be a strip of very white skin
that contrasted with the tanned skin of your back
which was so dark. But now you seem to be almost
the same color all over. I suppose being in the
sun nude . . ." Again he seemed to run out of
steam. When he finished speaking, he looked away
from me.

I thought he had realized he had just admitted to
watching me when I worked for him, watching me
with enough care that he paid attention to the
difference in color between tanned and untanned
portions of my body. Of course I had known he was
watching and had made an effort to give him
something to look at. But he didn't know that and
seemed to be embarrassed again by his admission. I
decided to help him get over this embarrassment
too, even if it meant bringing on the other kind
of embarrassment for him. I knew I was in no
danger of that sort of embarrassment myself.

"I'm not really the same color all over," I said
as I stood up. I took two steps and was standing
beside his chair. I turned my side to him so he
was looking at my body in profile and told him, as
I traced my finger along my side from my waist to
my thigh," See. I've still got a tan line at my
waist. You have to look close to see it but I'm
darker up here than I am down there. But on my leg
the tan kind of fades out some as you go up
because I didn't use to always wear the same
shorts when I was mowing. Maybe if we'da stayed
two weeks instead of one, my tan line would be
gone completely." I continued to run my finger
slowly and down so he could look, which he did,
and with some care, from just a few inches away.

"But I've got another place that's even lighter,"
I told him, raising my arm so he could look into
my armpit. The skin there was the lightest of
anywhere on my body, even the place where the sun
doesn't usually shine. Phil, who had examined
every part of my body closely and knew it better
than I did myself, assured me it was true.

Mr. Morris seemed transfixed as he stared at my
upraised arm.

I stood like that for a minute or so and then
turned to face him, giving him a look at my crotch
from a few inches away before I took the two steps
back to my chair and sat down. Mr. Morris seemed
to have a glazed look in his eyes.

"So I still got a tan line. I guess it'll show
even more when I get more tanned while I mow," I
told him to bring him back to reality from
wherever he had drifted.

"Yes, I guess you do at that," he replied. Then,
almost as if he was purposefully changing the
subject, he said, "It was nice to see your brother
last week. He and I talked for a few minutes too.
He seems to be doing very well in college." He
ended with another glance at my crotch.

"Yeah, he's making out alright."

>From there, Mr. Morris started talking about how
industrious the two of us were with the lawn
mowing business. He alternated between telling me
about work he had done when he was my age and
while he was in college and staring at my crotch
through the table top. In fact, we were both so
involved in our conversation that we were startled
when the buzzer for the dryer signaled the end of
its cycle. Mr. Morris jumped straight to his feet
and knocked his chair over when it sounded.

"I guess your clothes are dry," he told me as he
picked up his chair. "And the rain looks like it's
completely over."

In fact, it looked as if it had stopped raining
some time before, because the sun was shining
brightly and there were no clouds visible through
the kitchen window.

I took my shorts and T from Mr. Morris and stood
up to put them on. I didn't hurry it, giving him a
chance to get one more look,and turning as I
walked away from the table before I started to put
them on.

"These shoes are still very wet," he told me as he
handed them to me.

"I'll wait and put 'em on outside," I told him.
"Don't want to mess up your floor again. Thanks
for giving me a place to get out of the storm."

"It was my pleasure, believe me."

I did believe him, and I told him the truth when I
said, "I really had a good time talking to you.
Maybe we can talk again sometime. I mean if you've
got time."

"I'd like to do that too," he told me, casting a
quick, involuntary glance at my crotch as he no
doubt wondered how it could happen that I would be
naked for that conversation too.

"I'll come back and mow your lawn after it dries
off some."

"That'll be just fine." He stood in the carport
and watched me drive off on the mower. When I
looked back as I turned the corner, he waved at me
and I waved back.

That night I told Ted about it in a chat.

"Told you he'd never lay a hand on you. He's a
nice guy. Just likes to look. That was cool, what
you did."

"Yeah, I'm glad I did it.  I bet he's lonesome. I
really did like talking to him after he got over
being nervous."

"Well, he had a right to be nervous. Probably
imagined the police swooping down on the two of
you all of a sudden and hauling his butt off to
jail. I bet he stored away enough pictures of you
in his head to jerk off over for the next five
years."

"Hehe. Hope so!'


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.