Date: Sat, 01 Dec 2001 22:24:09 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter three

This is a story involving teen/boy, male/male graphic sex and not
intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type
of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read
something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only
for the purpose of pleasurable reading.

Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Boy in a Pink Box ~ chapter three

by Biscuit

My dad brought home pizza and a couple of movies. He also
brought Spano, a guy I guess I saw almost as much of as my
buddy Terry. Spano was my dad's best friend. I'd known him
forever. He lived in Oceanus but worked with my dad, and he
probably spent as many nights at our house as he did at home.
There was a bed that was more or less his, down in the office.
Spano's real name was Mark Silva, but nobody called him
that.

If somebody put a gun to my teen aged head and said I had
to point to a guy I thought was hot looking, it would have
been Spano. He was a stud; tall, dark haired, buff, and had
an endless string of girlfriends. They came and went like a
parade and still he was always hanging out with my dad. My
dad was okay looking, I guess. Maybe better than okay, it's
hard to say about your own dad. To me, he looked normal,
like me. We weren't tall or short, or fat or thin. We both
had brown hair that went lighter in the summer, and eyes
that sometimes looked brown and sometimes looked green.
Dad had women friends. Not as many as Spano, but like
Spano's girlfriends, they never seemed to hang around for
long. More often than not, it was the two of them I saw
together; drinking beers, doing projects, watching TV.

The four of us stuffed ourselves with pizza and then sprawled
out in front of the TV to watch a movie. Dad and Spano
claimed the recliners. I hit the couch, curled on my side with
one of the beat up couch pillows to soften the corner. If Terry
had been there, he'd have grabbed another pillow and stretched
out on the carpet. Not Gareth. He made my heart stop by
plunking his little ass down right in front of me and mashing
up a pillow for himself right under my chin.

"Comfy?" Spano laughed.

"Almost," Gareth said. I was holding my breath as he
snuggled down into less than a foot of couch, shoving his
pint-sized butt back into my crotch and bending his knees
to match mine. The movie preview bullshit was starting.

"You okay back there, Joe?" my dad asked. I didn't dare
look at him, I could feel my face getting hot.

"Okay, dad," I mumbled, overcome by the shampoo and boy
smell of Gareth right under my nose; the tent pole rising in
my pants. I squinched back a little, as deep as I could get into
the back of the couch, but he only squinched with me until he
was pressed up against me again. I heard Spano laugh, but he
didn't say anything. Thank God.

Hidden something, Tiger something; the movie was a blur.
My cock beat like a drum, smashed between my hip and
his ass. My arm was frozen stiff to my side. Somewhere
into the long credits he took hold of it and pulled it around
himself. I didn't even try to look at the movie then, I was
staring down at my arm around him, at what I could see of
his face, the curve of his cheek, the tip of his nose. Then I
closed my eyes, feeling every little shift of his body along
the front of me, his breathing. When he'd said he was my
boy, I don't know for sure what I thought it meant, except
that he'd singled me out and would let me do things to
him, with him. I felt singled out, like I'd gotten the best
present in the world. It was almost like my Dad and Spano
knew it, too. Behind my closed eyes I was seeing Gareth
naked, remembering the way he'd teased himself with that
one finger stroking his dick. I wanted to slide my hand
down and find it in his pants, feel the little shaft pulsing.

My hand was by his stomach and his two hands were both
on it, one near my wrist and the other kind of playing
with my fingers. As if he could read my mind, he shoved
it downward into his lap. Sure enough, through the folds
of his jeans I felt his boner press against the back of my
hand. I couldn't believe that we were doing these things,
that I was creaming my pants in the same room where
Dad and Spano were drinking beers and watching a movie.
It felt so good, frustrating, but good. Turned on as I was,
with a day full of sun and a belly full of pizza, the movie
flickering away in the half dark room, I fell asleep in
spite of it. When I woke up, Gareth's mom was there,
smoking a cigarette like it wasn't against the law in our
house. There was a cover over us, a knitted thing Irene
had given us. My cock was aching, my bladder was full,
and my hand was buried deep in the heat of Gareth's
pants. My fingers were curled around his stiff prick.

"I can't thank you enough, love," she was saying.
"Dreadfully sorry about the hour."

"It's okay," my dad said, then he saw I was awake.
"Hey Joe."

"Hey," I managed to croak, unwinding my fingers which
were almost stuck to his skin. I pulled my hand out
slowly hoping nobody could tell where it had been. I just
stopped myself short of holding my fingers up to my
nose to sniff. How sick was that!

Gareth made a grumpy sound. Then he saw her.

"Mum!"

"Hello darling," she said, flicking her ashes into a saucer.
She kind of looked like Gareth, though her hair was a
brighter shade of red. Gareth's was butterscotchy.

"I'll bring him out to the car for you," Spano said, and
the next thing I knew he was shoveling Gareth up off
the couch and taking him away from me. I wanted to
say something, or do something, but I just watched.

After they'd gone, in the dark, in bed, sick or not, I did
sniff my fingers. Sure enough, I could smell him. Hard
to describe it, sweet and like bread, maybe a tiny whiff
of pee smell. I started jerking off, using the same hand
that had been wrapped around his little dick, thinking
about him, thinking about touching him. I was almost
too tired to finish, then I concentrated on remembering
his mouth on me and came like a shot. One thing bugged
me as I drifted toward sleep. Was my hand down his
pants before or after my dad covered us up with the
blanket? My dad didn't act like he'd seen anything
weird. He'd said good night at my door, just like
always.

I thought I'd probably gotten away with it because of
Gareth, like I'd been protected by his magic. He and his
mom seemed to do whatever they felt like and the world
fell into place around them, not the other way around.
Gareth's mom had even smoked in our house and my
dad hadn't said a word.

When Terry showed up on his bike the next day, I knew
he had his eye out for the kid. Him and me, both. But I
guess Gareth's mom didn't have to make an emergency
run to Boston every day and I felt funny about going to
look for him.

"Where's junior?"

"I don't know. Home, I guess." I shrugged it off. We
headed for the beach and I tried not to think about him.
Impossible. I hadn't thought about much else since I
woke up and it wasn't going to change anytime soon.
The sun was out just as strong and warm as the day
before and I should have been just as eager as ever to
get to the beach. But I wasn't. I kept wondering if I
could work up the nerve to bike over to the pink box
looking for him. It just wasn't normal though. A guy
like me shouldn't go looking for a little kid to hang
out with.

Over breakfast, my dad had said to me, "Guess you're
not baby-sitting today." I'd looked at him without
understanding what he meant. I was a long way from
thinking about being with Gareth as baby-sitting. But
he was right. Baby-sitters don't go looking for the baby.

"Guess not," I finally said. He and Spano had shared a
look that made me uncomfortable. I felt like they knew
I was disappointed even though I was pretending not
to be.

Terry and I neared the fork between town and the
seashore. He signaled me to turn, yelling out, "Let's
skip the town beach."

Usually we didn't go out to the ocean side until later
in the summer when the water warmed up more. I
nodded and followed him, heading out the road that
bordered the dunes. Five minutes down the road he
cut off at the dune parking lot. I was surprised, but
followed him.

"What's up?" I pulled up next to him.

"Let's do the bike trail."

Well, we did part of the bike trail. It was okay.
Different. We didn't usually bother because it was
touristy and we just wanted to get to swimming. I
was too caught up in thinking about other stuff to
really care what the hell we did. I thought he probably
was avoiding D'Arcy who would be at the town beach
with Jen. He got like that sometimes. Maybe he'd had
his fill of them the night before.

About halfway out to the beach, Terry stopped his
bike and motioned me over.

"Excellent adventure time, Joe. I want to show you
something."

"Jesus, I'm not up for adventure." What I wanted was
to do something I didn't have to think about. I'd given
up the battle to stop thinking about Gareth and wanted
to space out, let my mind go.

"Come on, Davis." He was already heading off the
paved path, walking his bike down a sand trail. What
the fuck. Our last adventure was to scope out a creepy
site in the woods where Terry said he figured out a
murder had taken place. We found nothing, but we
managed to creep ourselves out pretty good. There's
tons of weird shit out in the dunes; old shacks,
cranberry bogs, garbage out near the dump. After a
bit of walking I was resigned to it. Part of my brain
was still focused on Gareth, picturing being out there
with him, finding a dip in the sand somewhere. Me
and him with nobody around. Next thing I knew I'd
sprung one, but Terry didn't notice.

"We'll leave our bikes here," he said, chaining up
to a tree trunk. I did mine next to his.

"Now what, Tarzan?"

"Now, we go string our bait. If we get lucky, I'll show
you how to make a few bucks, my friend, and get
your rocks off at the same time. Bring your towel."
I stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"You what?" was the best I could manage. He was
already off, climbing up a scrub covered dune. I
stood rooted, gaping at him. If my world had been
rocked the day before, now it was tumbling into the
twilight zone. Terry was quickly scampering up the
dune, nearing the top, and I was standing there with
my heart pounding and my head out to sea. I wanted
to unlock my bike and get the fuck out of there but
I couldn't. From near the top of the dune Terry was
waving at me and then he disappeared over the top.