Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2024 17:28:03 +0000
From: Oliver Readings <olliereadingsw@gmail.com>
Subject: Boy on a Mission- chapter 1

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. If this sort of material in
any way offends you in any way or if you are a minor, please leave now.

This is my first attempt at writing erotica, so do leave me any sort of
feedback via email. I'd love to hear what you think. Thank you and happy
reading!


Boy on a Mission
Chapter 1

	Looking at my reflection in the mirror every morning before I leave
the house, it's easy to understand why people think I'm cute, or easy on
the eyes at the very least. As I applied moisturizer on my face, it made me
wonder: what's stopping me from getting a man? It definitely wasn't because
of the way I look. Clearly. I mean, I'm not the most wonderful person in
the world, but let's be real, people go for looks first and foremost.

        At 5'10, I'm at a pretty decent height and with my textured
undercut with a middle part, it shouldn't be a problem for me, right?
Wrong, apparently.

        Well, half-wrong, I guess.

        I have had a number of guys--and girls--approach me and truth be
told, I've even gone on a couple dates with a few of them but there was
something missing. Don't get me wrong, the people that I've been with,
they're great. Particularly in the looks department. I was--am-- one lucky
son of a bitch. Seriously, though, I think none of them worked out in the
end because my heart wasn't really in it, I guess you could say.

        I wanted something special.

        I wanted more.





        Before I go any further, allow me to introduce myself. My name is
Archibald Leonard Thompson. I go by Archie, though, because my dad thought
it'd be grand to give his son a name that'd make me fit in well...if I was
born in the 19th century. I'm an 18 year old college freshman and I'm
gay. I'm also the youngest son and child of the CEO of T&F Techs, so, yes,
I was born and raised with a silver spoon in my mouth which led me to being
a tad bit spoiled.

        I grew up being raised by mostly my dad after my mom decided to dip
just shy of my eighth birthday. She and I were never really close so it
never really bothered me. However, it did bother my dad. I'm not gonna sit
here and sob `boo-hoo, my dad never had time for me and was never there for
me as a kid!' because that's simply false. My dad was very much an active
and present figure and he's absolutely lovely. I'm not going to lie and say
that he was always there, though, because he wasn't due to the nature of
his job. Nevertheless, he was there when it mattered--and he still is.

	My dad didn't really date much after my mom, or at least, that's
what I know of. I've never really seen him with anybody other than a couple
of times when he had some female colleagues over, but then again, it
could've been platonic. Who knows, honestly? As long as my dad's happy, I'm
fine.





	I'm currently on semester break so I really have nothing to do. My
classmates and friends all have something to do, either go on vacation with
their friends and family or work at their respective part-time jobs; the
latter being something I've never had to do or even think about, growing up
as I did. All of my closest friends weren't around and my dad was busy with
work as always, so I was left here to rot. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an
exaggeration given the fact that I literally live in a mansion--which is
absolutely absurd if you think about it. Picture it, four people living in
a massive space that would fit a good number of people. Well, four people
and the 20-something residential staff that we have. Crazy.

Lying face first in my massive bed, I was insanely bored with nothing to do
and lost in my own world to the point where I didn't hear my dad knock and
enter my room.

	`Son,' he said, walking towards my bed.

	I merely grumbled, not moving from my spot which made him sit down
at the foot of bed.

	`You wanna head to work with me tomorrow?'

	This wasn't something new. He would often ask me to come with him
just to see the ongoings of his work and office. Maybe to shape me into
becoming something like him, to take over the company? I don't know,
though, I doubt that would be it considering my brother's probably the one
to inherit it since he's a big shot guy in the industry already, working
alongside dad and all.

	`What for?'

	`You got nothing else to do right?'

	I grumbled at his quick response.

	`What time?'

	`10 sharp,' he chuckled as he got up from my bed.

	I hummed in acknowledgement.

	`Good,' he said before leaving and shutting the door.

	Well, it seems like I won't be so bored. At least not as much as I
am right now.





	Getting out of the car and walking into dad's office building was
nothing new to me. Although I haven't been here as often as I did when I
was younger, it was still something normal and natural for me to do. I knew
where to go and what to do. Almost like everything I did here was based on
muscle memory.

The staff greeted me, as usual, with smiles and compliments pointing out
how much I've grown and how handsome I look. I smiled and conversed with
some of them as I wanted to be polite, but not too polite as you can never
be too cautious with these people. They knew me, but more importantly, they
obviously knew who my father was. Of course they would, they literally work
for him. Wouldn't want to step into unwanted territory where they would
sweet-talk me into asking my dad to give them a raise or something. That
thought was always so silly to me. I couldn't even if I wanted to because
one: my father isn't someone who is easily swayed and, two: asking for a
raise from the person who's at the top of the pyramid? They'd be either
foolish or brave, or both.





	I tailed Dad for the first hour doing the usual, which I would not
want to bore you with the details. Trust me, after years of doing this, my
body just moves itself and I don't even work here.

	`I'm heading in for a meeting in about half an hour.'

	`You're letting me go?' I replied jokingly.

	`I was going to ask for you to join me, Archie.'

	I was a bit shocked that he would invite me. Not that he never did
before, but it was the first day of the month, which meant that it would be
a big meeting, from what I know at least.

	`You sure?'

	`Do you not want to?'

	`No, I want to. Just surprised, I guess.'

	Dad let out a small chuckle before leading me to the meeting room.

	`Good insight for you to see how these things work, son,' he
responds.





	We entered the meeting room about 10 minutes later and there were a
few people already present. Five women and three men. Clearly I wasn't
looking at the women and out of the three men, my eyes immediately landed
on the one who was seated nearest to the main chair in the middle. My eyes
went wide upon seeing him, not because I knew him--I did not, but because
of how strikingly handsome he was.

	He stood along with the others as Dad and I walked in. I could see
him in full view now. He was tall, at least six feet, maybe more. I don't
know, damn. At first glance, you could tell that kept himself in shape as
his shoulders were broad and the blazer he wore did no favors in hiding his
sculpted figure. His skin was of a tawny light shade and which complimented
his dark eyes. Salt and pepper hair slicked back, and his cologne. I swear,
I could--

	`Archibald!'

	Dad's voice snapped me out of my trance. I looked at him and then
at the man and realized that we were in front of each other already. See,
this is what I meant when I was talking about muscle memory in this damned
place.

	My dad cleared his throat with a slight chuckle as he placed his
hand on my back, `Archibald, this is Mr. Hart, one of our shareholders.'

	I quickly regained my composure and straightened my posture before
holding out my hand to shake the man's hand. Years of training, I guess.

	`Archibald Thompson,' I smiled. `Good to meet you, sir.'

	The man's smile reached his eyes, enhancing the wrinkles he had
around them as he shook my hand firmly.

	`Likewise.'

	I felt a tingle in my hand--no, my whole body actually--when he
shook it. I let my hand linger in his for a moment longer before pulling
away. I was smitten.





	We sat in our seats, with me on one side next to Dad while Mr. Hart
was on the other side, so we were directly facing each other. Dad commenced
the meeting and there was a lot of talking, but honestly? I cannot for the
life of me remember anything that happened because I was staring at
Mr. Hart the entire time, only looking away whenever I noticed him looking
my way whilst speaking. Other than that? Nothing. I was absolutely
brain-dead during the meeting.

The meeting went on for about an hour or so before being concluded. The
room slowly cleared out and I wanted to speak to the man again just for the
sake of it. Even something like `it was a pleasure meeting you' would
suffice, honestly. I just wanted him to talk to me before he left.

	Of course, I didn't get to as Dad beat me to it. I knew at that
moment, that life, the universe, or whatever, had a serious vendetta
against me.

	`Great seeing you again, Theo,' Dad said as he pat Mr. Hart's back.

	Mr. Hart smiled, `Yeah. We should get coffee some time.'

	`We can go now if you want.'

	`I have somewhere to be in a few minutes. Tomorrow?'

	`Sounds good.'

	That's it. I'm never going to see this beautiful man again unless I
come here everyday--which, I'd rather not-- and if I'm lucky, he'll show up
then.

	`Mind if I bring my son?'

	Dad was my guardian angel.

	`Of course,' Mr. Hart smiled, his eyes moving to meet mine.

	I take it back, the universe is great.





	Dad didn't have anything else important to do, so he took me out
for lunch. As we sat down and ate our food, I asked, `Have you known
Mr. Hart for long?'

	He looked at me with semi-raised eyebrows like I had said something
crazy.

	`What?'

	He laughed for a bit, `No, it's just that you usually never ask or
say anything about the people I work with.'

	He was absolutely right. Why would I? None of them ever interested
me. Mr. Hart, on the other hand, certified mega hottie.

	`Just asking,' I said, doing my best to act nonchalant.

	Thankfully, Dad didn't mention anything besides answering my
question, `A few years now.'

	Damn, Dad. You've been in touch with this fine ass man and you've
never once introduced me to him, let alone mentioned him? Thanks a lot.

	`He lives nearby?' I ask.

	`Yeah, actually. Half hour drive from the office.'

	Holy shit. It wasn't the nearest to us, but it was definitely
near-esque!

	Dad and I finished our meals and headed back to the mansion after
that. He told me he wanted to work out for a bit. I nodded and went to my
room and immediately plopped onto my bead and took out my phone.

	I was going to do some online snooping.





	I searched Mr. Hart's name and found numerous links. Of course, I
tapped on the first one I saw that seemed the most credible. As I scrolled
through the site, I saw multiple pictures of him at events. He was
dashingly handsome.

	`Theodore Emery Hart,' I whispered to myself, making a mental note
of his full name in my head.

	I kept swiping through his pictures online until I stumbled upon
one that showed him giving a speech or something. I zoomed into his hand
that held the microphone as I saw something glimmering. From the flash of
the camera, most likely.

	I kept on zooming until I saw it. A golden band on his ring finger.

	The man was married.

	I turned off my phone and threw it at the foot of my bed as I, once
again, went face first into my pillow.

	The man I found so captivating, was married.

	Fuck.





	Dad came down for dinner that evening, sporting a t-shirt and a
pair of sweats. Many would find this display shocking from him as they've
probably never seen him like this. Of course, this was a normal thing for
his kids and the mansion staff. The man who was the personification of
professionalism was, at the end of the day, a normal person. And that
normal person, just happens to be my Dad.

	`Cynthia, home already?' Dad asked my older sister who had just sat
down at the dining table.

	`Yeah, class ended earlier, so.'

	I didn't see Cynthia as often as I used to. She's now a
postgraduate and is studying clinical psychology at a university nearby, so
she stays with us instead of on campus.





	As we ate dinner, Dad brought up how he and I were going to meet up
with Mr. Hart tomorrow morning.

	`Archie wants to go?' Cynthia asked, feigning shock.

	`Oh, piss off, you.'

	`Language, Archie,' Dad interrupted.

	`Archie might gain something from this, right?'

	Sure, Dad. Hopefully I'll gain some dick from this. Preferably
Mr. Hart's.

	But to answer his question, I merely nodded.

	Dinner went on as usual as any other night after that. We ate, the
maids cleaned up and we said our goodnights.

	A good night it was going to be, definitely.





	I slipped into bed after I showered, scrolling through the internet
for more information on Mr. Hart. Was this wrong? I thought to myself. It
had to be. The man's married for god's sake!

	But, at the same time, he's married, not me and we're not even
doing anything. I'm just a horny teen with needs to fulfill.

	My thumb was restless at this point, scrolling through the number
of pictures of Mr. Hart. Then, there it was. Jackpot.

	A picture of Mr. Hart at a marathon--at the end of it,
presumably. He was smiling at the camera pointed at him while holding up a
medal that hung around his neck. His hair was slightly disheveled from the
run and he was sweaty. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of gym shorts
that enhanced his hotness. Sitting down when the picture was taken, he
smiled wearily from the marathon as he displayed the medal he had won. I
figured he was a bit hairy when I first met him, and I was right after
seeing this picture. His arms and legs were hairy--his legs more so-- and
his chest was matted with the right amount of fur as well. As if I wasn't
aroused already, I reached my peak when my eyes focused on his armpit that
was raised as he held his medal. I couldn't take it, so I got up and walked
over to my door to lock it before sliding back into my sheets.

Looking at the photo, I imagined Mr. Hart with me in bed holding me close
as I slipped my hand into my pajama pants and groped my stiff length. My
gaze roamed towards his crotch in the picture and I started to think about
how big his cock would be and how hot it would be to suck it. My own hand
went up and down my rigid dick as I drowned in lust, thinking about this
man I had just met earlier today. I couldn't think straight anymore--not
that I ever was to begin with--and I retrieved my hand from my pants before
taking them off completely. I took out a bottle of lube from my night
dresser and squirted a bit onto my palm before continuing my bate session
to this olympian-statue of a man. My strokes became harder and faster and
my breaths came out shorter as I imagined Mr. Hart kissing my lips,
exploring my mouth and body with his tongue, touching me in my most
sensitive places. The thought alone made me want to combust.

	Stroking my hard dick wasn't enough. I had to do more.

	I put some lube on my fingers and started to caress my boyhole as,
in my mind, it was Mr. Hart doing it. I soon put a finger in my hole. I was
clean, thankfully. Then, I put in another and then another, eliciting a
gasp of pleasure from my lips.

	`Mr. Hart...,' I moaned quietly.

	I was no longer looking at the picture of him. Instead, I had my
eyes closed as both my hands were occupied. My right sliding up and down by
rigid member and my left fingering my hole with three fingers.

	I was so close to cumming as my hands' movements matched
paces. Moaning his name, I pictured him and I in this very bed; Mr. Hart
whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he made out with me and touched my
body.

	Then, I came.

	I panted wildly as ropes of cum painted my chest. I figured that
this was by far, my best bate session, but no. It was not.

	I was not content at all.

	I wanted more.







	I was extremely excited to see Mr. Hart this morning for breakfast
at a coffee shop in town. Thankfully, I think I was able to hide it as Dad
didn't say a thing to me in that regard on the way there.

	`Be polite, okay?,' Dad says as he parks the car.

	`When am I ever impolite?'

	`Just be good, okay?'

	Oh, I was going to be good. I was going to be very good.





	We got out of the car and entered the coffee shop, where we were
greeted by Mr. Hart as he had just arrived a few minutes before us. He was
sporting a tight enough polo shirt tucked into a checkered pair of
slacks. If it wasn't for my need to be coherent so I can get a word in with
this man, I would've fainted on the spot because of the sheer masculinity
he was radiating just by existing.

	`Good to see you again, Archibald,' he smiled, displaying the
perfect set of pearly white teeth that he had.

	`Archie is fine, sir,' I politely corrected.

	`Of course,' he nodded. `Archie.'

	The way he said my name made me swoon even further. Him saying it
just caused me to go to dreamland for a split second and imagine what he
would sound like moaning my name. God, I needed this man so much. I was
down bad.





	Once more, I would like to thank the universe because the coffee
shop was a bit busy this morning, so a waitress had asked us if it was okay
for us to sit at a small round table. This was good. Great, even, as I
didn't have to sit next to my dad, technically. Either way, I get to be
near Mr. Hart so I count that as a win.

	Having placed our orders, Dad started talking to Mr. Hart about
corporate shit. To be honest, I've never really understood anything about
it. I mean, I get the way that I'm supposed to present myself when I'm
around Dad's colleagues and all, but the actual specifics of his line of
work? No clue. When Mr. Hart was speaking, I made sure to pay attention,
but of course I couldn't pay attention to the content of his words as I was
solely focused on his voice. He had a magnificent baritone timbre to his
voice which turned me on even more. Smooth, silky smooth voice.

Food arrived soon and we dug in and as we were, the handsome man next to me
took out his phone as it started ringing.

	`Excuse me,' he got up. `Need to take this.'

	Before he left, I managed to take a peek at who was calling. Seemed
like a guy's name. Ben? Oh god, no. Don't tell me he has a kid.

	I groan inwardly at the thought before asking my dad, `How old is
he, by the way?'

	Dad raised an eyebrow, `Why?'

	`Just tell me, please?'

	`46.'

	That might as well have been his son for all I know. His kid could
even be around my age. Geez, I am a sick bastard for preying on a married
man with kids!

	Before Dad and I could speak some more, Mr. Hart returned with a
smile as he sat down.

	`Sorry,' he apologized. `Daddy duties.'

	Fuck.

	I was right, then. The man's a father.





	But somehow...deep inside me, it made this whole situation of mine
hotter.





	Mustering up the courage, I took a sip of my tea and asked, `You
have kids, Mr. Hart?'

	`I do. Two sons,' he smiled.

	Two sons, huh? I wonder what they looked like. I figured they'd be
as handsome as their dad. Honestly, anybody who has this man's genes
running through their system is lucky. And I mean that in all aspects when
I say system.

	`How old are they?'

	`Dylan is 23 and Benjamin is 18.'

	Two sons and one of them is older than me. How convenient.

	`Oh, I'm 18, too!'

	I've no idea why I said it like that. I practically beamed when I
mentioned my age. What reaction was I hoping for from him? Maybe I had
wished that he was interested in younger guys. Younger guys like me. Was I
being delusional? Maybe. Was I a horny bastard? Yes. Did I need this stud
of a man in front of me? Absolutely.





	Dad and Mr. Hart continued their conversation with Mr. Hart
initiating conversation with me a few times. Again, I had no idea what he
was talking about but I was focused on the sound of his sexy voice. Boy, I
want him to sing me to sleep every night...and wake up next to me as
well. Oh, and maybe naked? No. Preferably naked.

	I am so getting ahead of myself. Baby steps, Archie.

His talk with Dad went on for what felt like ages and as it did, I caught
myself looking at the golden ring on his finger, and like a fool, I blurted
out something that I shouldn't have.

	`Mr. Hart, does your wife work in the same field as you do?'

I didn't have to look at Dad to know that he was glaring at me. You know,
that look that says "we're gonna have a good chat when we get home." Yes,
that one.

	Mr. Hart was taken aback by my question as well because his eyes
went wide for a while there. I thought for sure that I had fucked up any
chance I might have had in bagging this man. However, to my pleasant
surprise, he snickered lightly. It was honestly so adorable.

	`No, she doesn't.'

	`She owns and runs a pilates studio,' he adds.

	I smile politely, `Oh, cool! I do pilates sometimes, too.'

	My dad rolls his eyes good-naturedly, `While draining my wallet.'

	`I go and I benefit from it, Dad. Can't say the same for you and
your yoga membership, can I?' I quipped.

	He gives me a light slap on the arm while Mr. Hart laughs heartily.





	After a bit, Dad went on to pay for our food and as he did, I
figured this would be my chance to dig deeper and get to know the beautiful
man in front of me better. I was one eager boy, but apparently, my
eagerness didn't translate well to my actions as I did absolutely nothing
to initiate any sort of conversation. It's like all my courage and
confidence went into that one question about his wife. Great.

	`So you do pilates?' Mr. Hart asks me while dabbing the corner of
his lips with a napkin.

	I've been blessed yet again by the universe.

	`Yes, sir,' I nod. `I have a friend who's really into these sorts
of things and she usually drags me along for them.'

	`Oh, then maybe you've heard of my wife's brand, Dynamic Harmony.'

	My jaw dropped and my eyes widened, `That's your wife? Alicia
Hart?!'

	I must've been a bit loud because a few heads turned our way. Not
that I cared. There were more pressing matters at hand because I go to
Alicia's studio. Even seen her a few times. Truly a small world we live in.

	`That's the one,' he smiled.

	`I actually go to one of her studios nearby.'

	`Do you?'

	There was a bit of a line at the counter where Dad was at and
usually, this would've made me irritated because I hated waiting, but not
now. Take as long as you need, Dad. The longer the better.

	Our conversation steered to a direction where he started to ask me
about my studies and interests. I felt hot, obviously. The man I'd jerked
off to last night was taking an interest in me and fuck no I didn't care if
it was just him being polite.

	`You got a girlfriend?'

	Ah, of course. Of course this guy had to ask me that. Almost every
one of my dad's friends and/or colleagues have asked me that.

	`No, sir, I don't.'

	He nodded with a smile, `That's okay. You'll find someone soon
enough. It'll be easy for someone as handsome as you.'

	I beamed.

	The way he said it made a shiver run down my back. Fuck it. I'm
already set. I know what I need to do now. Was he trying something or was
I, yet again, being a delusional moron?

	If I'm being completely honest? I'm gonna go with the former. And
if it's not true, I'll make it true because all the signs were already in
front of me. We were connected through two factors now: my Dad and him as
well as his wife's studio and me. And that's enough.

	That's it, I don't care how. All I care about right now is Theodore
Emery Hart and how I wanted him to be mine and only mine. My body tingled
at the thought. Was I a boy possessed? I don't think I would call it
that. Possessed by ambition, maybe. I just think I have a well-oriented
goal and that I was going to try my damndest to achieve it. Call me
whatever you'd like but know that I am a boy on a mission.


To be continued...