Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2001 21:01:52 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter eight

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 eight

by Biscuit


"You want to go someplace?" Terry asked.

His voice startled me awake and I blinked at them,
wondering how long I'd been passed out. Long enough that
my back was baking hot and my elbows hurt from resting
on the wood with the weight of my head on my arms.

"Got another bloke with a boat?" Gareth asked, shading his
eyes from the sun to look at Terry. He was on his back then,
mostly dry. His knees were bent, waving like they do when
he wants me to touch him. I pushed onto my side, shaking
my head to clear it. My dick hadn't gotten any softer in my
sleep. It was aching.

"Nope. A guy with a room. We'd have to take the bikes."

"Jesus, Terry. Where do you find these guys?" I asked.

"Why? You want one?" he asked, annoyed. He was sitting
up, his arm resting on his knee.

"No I don't want one," I said, tugging at my shorts as I
sat up, to find a better angle for my poor dick. "I don't
like the idea of you out in the dunes or whatever. Out
there, picking up guys." God, I sounded like his dad
or something.

I didn't know I was going to say it until it was out of
my mouth. I'd been so careful of the subject of Terry
and whatever the hell it was he was doing. Sometimes
Gareth challenged him to tell us about the guy who
owned the Donna Lee. I was afraid to ask him anything.
I think I felt guilty, still. Like it was my fault he was
screwing around. He never offered any information. I
told myself it was none of my business. Now my
outburst at him hung in the air.

Gareth sat up, too, grabbing onto my leg to pull himself
up. His hand on my bare leg felt so good. I was going to
have to do something, soon, even if it was just throw
myself in the water to cool down. I looked away from
him, trying not to think about how close his hand was
to my dick, and looked back at Terry to show him I
wasn't backing away from the question.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about it," he said, not wanting
to start something with me, but not answering me either.
"Look, you guys want to go with me, or not? I'm out of
here." He was getting up. Gareth's hand was still on my
leg, curled near my ankle and I could feel the touch of
each separate fingertip. He was looking at me kind of
funny, not smiling; his head cocked to one side. Maybe
I still looked angry about Terry.

"Want to?" he asked.

"Do you? We don't have to, you know ... " I said
awkwardly, not wanting to say 'fuck' and not knowing
what else to call it. Then he was smiling.

"You're so cute, Joey." All of a sudden he swept
forward toward me, leaning on my ankle and putting
his face up to my ear like he was going to whisper
something. I felt his lips brush me, tickling me, and
then his tongue darted out. He licked me! I nearly
came in my pants from the shiver that ran through me.
Then he whispered, "I want to do it right now."
Oh God.

The swim back to the beach calmed my dick down.
That and nerves. We got our gear and bikes and
followed Terry.

Town was crowded, it was the thick of summer. You
had to bike slow through all of the people shopping
the main street. People were just plain crazy, they
walked like they were hypnotized, spilling over the
sidewalks and into the street. Cars had to crawl along.
The longer we rode, the worse of an idea I thought
the whole thing was.

But when I thought about not doing it, I only had to
look at Gareth riding in front of me, to change my
mind. His gold-streaked pinky hair tossed whenever he
turned his head around to look at me. He'd flash me
a quick grin, my heart would melt and my balls would
clutch. I'd look at his ass, moving back and forth on
the seat of his bike, and just about die.

The motel was all the way at the end of town, near
the highway.

God, it was creepy. The room was okay, we just
shouldn't have been in it. The guy's luggage was there,
open on the dresser and you could smell his after shave
in the air. All I could think was that Terry had
already been there, doing stuff with a grown up guy.
The Donna Lee was more like an adventure. I didn't
know for sure back then, I'd only suspected. Now I
knew.

I didn't say anything, but Gareth did.

"What did you do with this guy?" he asked, poking
around in the suitcase. He peered into it and pulled
out a pair of white boxers.

"I didn't take it up the ass, if that's what you're
wondering. Get out of there."

The room was dim with the curtains pulled across the
big window that faced out toward the bay. Terry
disappeared into the bathroom and came out with a
couple of towels and tossed them on the bed. The two
of us looked at each other. It's funny how young he
looked to me. I'd gotten used to thinking that he
looked grown up. Compared to Gareth, even to me.
Even though he was only six months older than I was.
In that motel room, he looked like a kid who's been
out playing on the beach. His skin was so brown, his
eyes just a sparkle of blue. I wished so bad, right
then, that he wasn't fooling around with guys in
motel rooms.

"Look at this!" Gareth was by the bed, he'd opened
the drawer in the bedside table. "Somebody's getting
it up their bum," he laughed. "Sure it's not you,
Tarzan?" He took a big tube of lubricant out of the
drawer.

"I'm sure it's you," Terry shot back, grinning.

"Yeah," Gareth said, not laughing but happy; turning
to us with the tube in his hand, smiling. I saw he had
a condom packet in his other hand. The look on his face
just killed me, like he'd hit the jackpot. I smiled back at
him. Who could resist him? Not me. That's for damn
sure.

The three of us were glowing on the white towels,
all the sun we'd gotten radiating off of us. I wished I
was alone with Gareth then.

"It's good if you lay on a pillow," Terry said to him,
dragging one down for him to put under his hips.
"Let's take a look at your butt. Are you sore?"

My heart was in my throat. I hadn't even thought to
ask him if he was sore.

"Feels okay," Gareth said, draping himself over the
pillow. "Joey didn't hurt me. This kid at school, once,
he near tore my arse open, bloody bugger."

Holy fucking shit, kids did it at his school! My stomach
turned over, picturing some guy tearing at my little
boy's ass. I stared at him, trying to breathe, feeling like
I'd been punched. He was wiggling around on the
pillow and spreading his legs. It felt like a gong was
banging in my chest. His backside was poking up in the
air and I just about freaked when Terry touched him.

Terry looked at me, kind of smiling.

"It's okay, Joe. I'm just checking him out."

"Don't," I said, and it came out so sharp and serious
that his hands dropped away. Gareth looked around
at me, wide eyed. "I'll do it," I said, getting between
his legs.

The skin of his butt was feathery soft and I swallowed
hard; nervous, angry at some faceless bastard, scared
of what I was going to see, and still half hard in spite
of it all.

Terry, as if he was some kind of doctor, consulting
with me -- even though he was sitting there with a
monster hardon, leaned over him when I did. Both
of us staring at his little asshole. Damn, I couldn't
tell if it looked different. Maybe it was kind of
pinker or puffy. Terry looked at me and grinned.

"Congratulations," he said. "It's a boy."

"Jesus," I said. "Does he look okay?"

"He looks fine," he said. "Get a grip." He said it
low; sympathetic, not pissed at me. I made myself
take a deep breath, trying not to think about some
other guy touching him, hurting him.

Gareth gave an impatient wiggle, tapping lightly
on the bed with his foot. He looked back over his
shoulder at me.

"Would you do that thing you did before," he said.
"You know, with your tongue?" Oh God.

My dick had flagged with so much crap churning
in my brain, but that sent it skyward. My mouth
started flooding with spit. I nodded at him. He
gave me his dimpled smile before settling down
with his head in his arms.

Terry raised his eyebrows at me but didn't say a
word. He backed away, watching, but not too close.
God, the kid's butt was so soft; I ran my palms
over it just to feel the shape and smoothness of it.
He looked incredible, spread out in front of me.
How the hell was I going to live if he moved to
Boston?

I would have done anything he asked me. Just to
show him how bad I wanted him -- like he could
make his mom let him stay. That was part of it,
doing that stuff with my tongue. But the truth is, I
liked doing it, even though I knew it was about
the sickest thing in the world you could do.

I was crouching over him, holding his cheeks
apart. There was so much spit in my mouth, I let
it dribble out on his hole. I licked at the puckery
skin, feeling the little ridges with the tip of my
tongue and the dent that was hotter than the rest.

I had to push to get in but I knew it felt good
to him; he was making those sounds. His butt
lifted up to my mouth, and he swayed a little. It
was smooth and hot past the tight ring, and my
dick was like a whimpering dog, wanting at
what my tongue was getting.

Gareth treated me like I was some kind of hero.
He kissed me for real that day, not just a brush of
his lips or a peck, but an honest to God, tongue
in my mouth kiss, like you see people do in movies.

I was fucking him. He was under me, on his back
with his legs climbing my arms and that pillow
scrunched under him. He reached up and grabbed
my head, pulling my face down, and just did it.
He pushed through my lips and his tongue popped
into my mouth like a little hopping frog, feeling
around and playing with mine. I was so shocked
I almost stopped moving. Jesus, what a time for
him to kiss me, after my tongue had been in his
ass!

Then it hit my brain and my balls at the same time.
That's why he was doing it. Holy mother of God,
it was like lighting the fuse. I started humping him
out of control, trying to fuck his mouth with my
tongue at the same time I was shooting off like
a geyser in his ass.

Terry never touched me the whole time. I knew
he was jacking off, I could hear him. But he
didn't touch me. Not until afterwards, when I was
laying there dead, on my stomach, and Gareth had
gone to the bathroom.

Terry turned on his side, leaning against me like
he'd done that other time. Only he wasn't hard or
anything, just pressed against me with his leg
sliding over the back of my thigh and his hand
rubbing my back. It felt strange but okay. I didn't
try to stop him, or say anything about him doing it.
I felt like I owed him something. For turning him
down, for wanting Gareth instead of him, even for
having Gareth.

"Way to go, big guy," he said to me, and tugged
at my hair. Then he rolled away and slapped my
ass.