Date: Tue, 11 Dec 2001 22:35:06 +0000 From: Java Biscuit Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter seven 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 seven by Biscuit Gareth turned eleven in the middle of July. His mom got him a bike for his birthday. It was the most expensive mini-mountain bike in the world; an awesome thing, bright banana yellow with rainbow streamers hanging off the handle bars. God, he loved it. I would have killed myself before riding something that looked like that, but I knew how it would be. Kids would fall all over themselves telling him how cool it was. And they did. Actually, it was pretty cool, even if it was funny looking. He rode it like a maniac, racing off the road to jump hills and shit. It was around the same time that his mom invited us to the pink box for dinner. I'd been in it before. Inside, it was nicer than on the outside, open and airy, with the back that faced the woods almost all windows. But it was kind of empty. There was more stuff on the walls, paintings and what she called 'assemblages', which were sort of like paintings but with paper and other junk glued on them, than there was furniture. It looked like they'd never finished moving in. She wanted to introduce us, well my dad, really, to Tony. We'd heard scraps about him. He was an art dealer from Boston. Nobody talked about Gareth's dad showing up anymore, Tony was his mom's boyfriend. I knew Gareth didn't like him. He didn't talk about him much, but when she went up to Boston, he'd roll his eyes and say, "she's gone to see Tony." And there they were, announcing to me and Dad and Spano, and her friends from Oceanus, that they were planning to get married. Gareth told me later that he already knew it. I felt bad. Looking at him with his mom and Tony. I think I understood for the first time that he wasn't just a weird kid that I couldn't keep my hands off, and he didn't exist just for me. I wished he did, but he didn't. I'd never really thought about what it might feel like to him to be left at our house so much. I wanted him there and he seemed happy enough to be there. My dad had given him his own key. But seeing him with them, with Tony, a guy I knew he didn't really like, who was about to become his dad, I realized a whole world existed around him that had nothing to do with me. For me, selfish as I was, the news that they were going to move to Boston at the end of the summer struck me a whole lot harder than the rest of it. I think that's why I finally broke down and fucked him, like if I didn't do it soon, I might never get a chance. The morning after we did it, like I had a sign painted across my forehead, Terry said to me, "You fucked him." We were pedaling slow down my driveway, him next to me, Gareth riding in front of us. "Jesus Christ," I said, cringing. "Why don't you say it a little louder, I'm not sure every fucking person in the neighborhood heard you." My pulse had shot off the charts. How the fuck he could possibly know? "Hey Junior," he called out. "How's that bike seat feel?" Oh God, was that it? Was he sitting funny or something? Gareth's laugh pealed out. "A wee bit tender, mate." "Yeah, I'll bet." I wanted to kill them. Gareth coasted, standing on his pedals, and he waved his little ass at us. I wanted to die, but please God, I thought, not until I could fuck him about a million more times. My dick throbbed, remembering how tight and hot and slippery it was between those cheeks he was wagging at us like a dog. We'd been up all night. I don't think we slept so much as finally passed out. I'd fought off sleep and kept him awake as long as I could, knowing I couldn't touch him during the day, not like I wanted to. It was in that restless time, when I was fighting sleep, that we finally did it. Then we kept doing it until the sun was coming up. I remember it started with me licking him. I was under the sheet between his legs, with the smell of him trapped under there with me. Fingering him, sucking him, and still not getting enough. For the first time I didn't stop at licking the soft skin behind his little balls, I kept moving downward until my tongue was in his crack. Gareth had made little cooing noises that turned me on -- knowing how much he was liking it. Sick, to put your tongue in somebody's ass, but it didn't feel sick, it felt really good and it was like I was trying to eat him. My mouth was watering like crazy when I touched his hole with the tip of my tongue. I tickled it and he squirmed, spreading his legs open like he wanted me to do it more. Then I slid my tongue right inside of him. God, it was so hot in there! And his prick was so hard under my fingers it felt like I could snap it right off. Every time I pressed my tongue into him my cock jerked under me, wanting in there. It surprised me when Gareth pulled away from me, banging at my face with his leg as he squirmed away. Without saying a word, he took off for the bathroom. I went after him and found him peering in the medicine chest with only the night light to see by. I thought he looked so beautiful, squinting into the cabinet, his little boner snapped up to his belly. "We need something slippery," he whispered. We were like a pair of thieves, sneaking around in the dark, looking for junk to use and a towel. He was slippery with my spit and he'd slathered my dick with hand lotion. I was glad that we had to be quiet. If we'd talked about what we were doing I might have lost my nerve. I might have talked us out of it, like I'd done before, and Jesus Christ, I did not want to stop. It was like finding the socket to heaven when I slid my dick inside him. He was crouching at the edge of the bed with his knees spread and his head down on his arms. Just putting it in him was almost more than I could stand. I don't think I lasted more than a handful of seconds before I started shooting off into him, hanging on to his hips so I could push deeper. I'd known about the box on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet for a long time. I knew what condoms were, that my dad had to use them so he wouldn't get somebody pregnant. I'd unwrapped one once and played with it. But it wasn't until Gareth whispered to me, when he felt I was getting hard again, after the first time, "God, I wish we had a rubber," that it even occurred to me that it was something he and I might ever use. I mean, he couldn't get pregnant. It was the mess. All my spunk, and other stuff I didn't want to think about, dripping out of him. There was a double wrapped plastic bag at the back of my closet, hiding the evidence. I planned to leave it there until I could put it out safely the night the trash was picked up. I was afraid my dad would somehow find it if I put in the garbage. Now Terry was smirking and shaking his head. Gareth was laughing and I was trying to ignore them and act normal with a raging hardon and my face on fire. What world did they live in? How could something so stunning to me, be like a joke to them? Even though I was starting to get it, I was a long way from finding it funny. We were out on the raft that day, the three of us. It had become a thing we did, leaving the girls on the beach, at some point or another, to be on our own. The Donna Lee was long gone. We'd never done anything like that again, but since then, it was always the three of us hanging out together; like it used to be me and Terry. It was the middle of July. Even Gareth had some color by then. He never really got tanned; he turned a light gold and kept burning. His nose and cheeks were always pinked up. Terry was deep brown, especially his shoulders, but then he was never pale, not even in the middle of winter. We'd been taking turns running to the edge of the raft and flinging ourselves like cannonballs into the water, trying to see who could jump the furthest. We did it over and over until we were dragging ourselves up the ladder between jumps. Gareth collapsed in a puddle and rolled over on his back. I sank down next to him, glad I wasn't the first one to bag out, looking down at him and wondering what it would be like to fuck him in broad daylight instead of my dark bedroom. He wasn't wearing my baggy cutoffs anymore. His mom had broken down and bought him jeans, if you could call them that. They were French. The denim was really, really thin and soft. For once, she'd gotten something right. Dead as I was, with my ears ringing from hitting the water, and my legs like jelly, my dick twitched and stiffened up as I looked at his belly rising and falling. Terry dropped down on the other side of Gareth. He was tired out too, but fidgety; pushing his hair back and wiping at the water on his face. He gave me a look, his eyes dropping to my crotch and back up to my eyes with a shake of his head. "So you finally did it." "Don't you ever think about anything else?" I asked. As if I did. As if it wasn't obvious. He looked down at Gareth who broke into a dimpled smile and rolled over on his stomach, closer to me, with his chin on his arms. "How the hell did you know, anyway?" I asked him. I didn't want to. But I had to. I had to know. Terry snorted. "Gee, I don't know. There was something about the way Junior whispered to me, 'we did it,' that gave it away." Gareth looked at me with a big guilty smile. His eyes were shining under his wet lashes. He pressed his lips together and tried to hide his grin on his arm. "What did you think?" Terry laughed. "That I could smell it or something?" I just groaned and put my hands over my face. No way was I going to admit what I'd thought. Gareth was erupting in giggles and Terry was breaking himself up, leaning over and pretending to sniff his butt. "You both totally suck!" I wasn't crazy about being laughed at, but at least I knew there wasn't some mysterious sign that others could see and I couldn't. I stretched out on my stomach, turning my head so I could look at Gareth, aching to be alone with him and fuck him again.