Date: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 05:32:21 -0700
From: Man
Subject: Alex and Tommy part 1

Alex and Tommy

Stewie father, Alex, was broad shouldered with thick dark hair. He was something in
construction or engineering and came home every day early with mud on his boots
and sheaves of paper with building designs on them. I'm Tommy and my friend
Stewie and I were together a lot, two boys in a pack of six tight friends. I think there
were times when I had more suppers at their house than at ours. Stewie's father barely
acknowledged me, his mother was a nice woman, a housewife. I was then 14 and
small for my age with sparkly blue eyes, light hair, not much muscle and a round
bottom. My mother, who worked at city hall, never let me leave the house without
checking what I was wearing so at least I wore clean and fashionable clothes even
though she couldn't afford anything fancy. My father had left us when I was little.


One late weekday afternoon I came to Stewie's house. Stewie wasn't in so I waited for
him in his room. Stewie's mum was downstairs and Alex, his dad, was somewhere
around. He was upstairs and I glanced at him from the staircase wearing bright, green
shorts and black running shoes and no shirt and looking sweaty after going running.
He called me to his room and I walked over not imagining his motive. The smell in
the large bedroom was a smell of fresh, male sweat but also of women's things. I
could hear my friend's mother calling out to her husband, "darling, aren't you dressed
yet, you coming downstairs?" But he just stood there by the door to their on-suite
bathroom in shorts which now seemed to be down on the ground; he stood with his
back to the door in tight, dark briefs. There was a bulge, there was something there,
and I was afraid of only one thing that my eyes couldn't move from it. It was quite
beautiful and I could see the outline of it all. He just stood there with one hand on a
hip and a half-smile on his face. He motioned me to come closer and said something
like "I want to show you something". I dared not look up and my eyes couldn't avert
their gaze. I silently moved close to him over the once plush bedroom carpet. Again
he motioned to me and said "You can touch it, you can you know". I was within
grasping range and my hand arrived on the hot bulge. I felt the underpants filling just
a little bit more and the man's smile a bit wider. There was something inside those
dark underpants and my small hand could gently make out its outline. His wife called
out again from the kitchen "darling", and I knew it would have to end. My hand
lowered itself and the smile just got wider and he stepped out to answer to his wife
leaving me there with the memory of him under my willing hand. I skipped quickly to
my friend's room scared of being caught in that wrong place and of course never said
a word to him when he came in later. I didn't stay for supper that evening.


My clueless mind and my young heart raced like crazy. Yes, it had come to life under
my hand but for just a short time. Alex didn't touch me but his body did react under
his under clothes to that movement and his smile held fast at least whenever I had
dared glance up at him. Later at home my thoughts were: he had let me touch him,
feel him, quite large under my hand. I probably did myself five times that night and
the next day. I was riveted to the thought of his post exercise, sweaty body and my
boy hand almost touching his naked skin through the fiber of the underwear.


I wanted to go back. To go to the house was easy but I wanted alone, alone with him.
I wanted to place my hand on him again. The thought of that made me crazy, turned
me on like crazy. I could think of nothing but his body, the thought of my hand on
him, on his underwear making it move inside, making it hard. I was thinking about his
smile too. But, I was scared of the thought being alone with him and even more scared
of not being able to. I was going to go over to Stewie but each time it could have
happened I made myself some excuse. I needed excuses to prevent me going over
because maybe Alex doesn't want me near him again, I was just some little game for
him, a game of a few seconds.


About three days later I picked up the courage to go. I dressed in my newest short
trousers, whitest t-shirt, running shoes and white ankle socks. I looked myself over in
the mirror and I went to the house. I knew Stewie wouldn't be there but I could just
apologize and go away. I gently, half-heartedly knocked on the wide metal door and
almost immediately started to turn away when it didn't open. Alex opened it and didn't
look surprised at all, "What do you want?" he asked almost leeringly, "Stewie's not
home. No one is here". "Sorry", I replied, "I shouldn't have come". I was just about to
say goodbye when he said I could come in. I stepped in and he closed the door behind
me. Again he asked, "What do you want? Why have you come?", "Not sure" I replied
trying not to sound like a complete idiot. "You came here, you must want something".
He looked down at me and touched my shoulder and said I could go upstairs. I
thought he might have meant to wait for my friend but as I walked up the carpeted
stairs he followed me quietly, closely, making me somewhat uncomfortable and led
me to his bedroom. My heart started to pound. This time he was wearing work
clothes, the muddy boots, khakis and blue short-sleeved buttoned shirt. Inside the
room he closed the door and stood again in front of me. "I think I know why you
come here, I know what you think you came for" he said. I was silent. He put his hand
on my face and stroked my hair and shoulders with his fingertips.


When he told me to take off my shoes I just did what he said. He reached out to me
with his long, muscular arms pulled me up sharply, strongly; holding me with his
hands under my thighs, under my bottom. My breath was taken away, I was in shock.
The smell of him was intoxicating. He held me close to him and his face was very
close to mine. His lips said to me silently "kiss me" my face was so close to his our
noses were touching and my lips were opposite his. I moved forward and gently
grazed his lips with mine. It was heaven. I had no idea what to do and he was saying
nothing. My lips lunged forward to meet his again and his mouth opened in
anticipation and his tongue kissed my mouth. He held me like that for precious
minutes, holding me in his arms and kissing me, kissing my mouth, with his lips and
with his gentle but probing tongue. He laid me down on his bed and pulled down my
shorts and underpants and nudged up my t-shirt which I pulled up and off. I wanted to
show him my body, more than that I wanted to see his. Like a prayer answered he
swiftly removed his clothes and came to the bed touching me with his hands to my
face and neck and chest, grazing my nipples with his fingers. I was lying on my back
and fully expected him to have sex with me not actually knowing what that would
entail. But he sat up with his legs straddling my thighs; his cock was there big and
hard. He never touched mine and it was trapped under his heavy man body . His cock
was in front of me, upright like a statute but almost parallel to his tight, muscular
stomach, I'd seen it before but only under his briefs and now it was there in full
nakedness. I reached out to touch it. It was hard and hot to touch. I was sure lying in
this position that he would take me, make me, fuck me in the hole available to him. I
was more than a little scared.


He did nothing but sat down with his knees and thighs on either side of my body. I
touched him, stroked and held his legs and chest and felt all the way across to and
down to his cock. He just looked down at me, leaning over me. He started to stroke
himself, his pale eyes looking down at me. He held it in his hand, it was hard and
upright. I lay under him on his double bed where he fucked his woman; I too lay like
a girl, ready to take it, lying down to be fucked. But he was doing his own thing; he
was masturbating in front of my eyes, rubbing it, up and down with his hand. I could
see him getting excited the penis getting larger and redder. I was so excited watching
him getting hot and sweaty just by looking at me and rubbing himself. I felt the big
muscles in his thighs with my hands, I reached up to caress his torso, his abs and his
hips. Soon he tensed and his big one stood up even taller and he shot. He shot with a
deep, manly groan all over me, over my stomach and chest. I didn?t mind, I loved it.
His sperm covered me, made me wet, as wet as a girl ready for sex. As he got off me
he asked "When you coming again?" I didn't answer but did expect him to hand me
paper or a towel, an expectation that was not forthcoming. I had also expected for him
to touch me, make me finish too but that really was too much to expect. I got off the
bed slowly and carefully went to the en-suite for some paper to clean my sticky chest.
I think I ran all the way home without breathing once.


On the next, weekend day, knowing Stewie would be taken to soccer practice by his
mother I strolled over. Well it was quite a quick walk through our suburban
neighborhood, but I was trying to be mature, nonchalant. I didn't succeed. By the time
I had turned the last corner fifty strides from the house I was shaking like a leaf. He
opened the door I glanced up at the crucifix in the passage way that I had never
noticed before and just collapsed and fell to my feet in front of him. He laughed at
me, laughed that I was shaking, laughed for being so eager to do it for him. My hands
felt up to his trousers and shirt. I wanted to release it, to see it and hold it in my hands,
to kiss it and suck it and put it in my mouth. Most of all I wanted him to get hard and
big for me, I wanted to make him cum and squirt for me, make him groan and give
him pleasure. I had been thinking of all that for days. He released his belt and pulled
off his shirt and my hands brought his trousers and briefs down to the ground. It just
sprang up in front of my mouth. I opened up and let it in, let him put it into me, in my
young and eager mouth, a mouth that wanted to be receptive to his penis. I sucked
him and felt him get harder, I touched his balls with my fingers and looked up at him.
He was so into it and soon I could feel him getting closer to that ecstasy. My hand
grasped him but my mouth and tongue did the work. I looked up again, fixated,
mesmerized by him, trying to find his eyes. He stroked my face and hair and said over
and over "you like it? you want it?", I nodded and mumbled in agreement. He was
close and I held on to his thighs so he could shoot in me. I felt the warm wetness in
me and smiled as I swallowed it. He picked me up and kissed my deeply with his
tongue feeling my body with his hands. I just loved him for that so much.


I think I must have sucked him off or him shoot over me about thirty times until my
mother started to wonder what was happening. I went to his house many times, I
loved to hold his penis in my mouth and wait until it produced that great wad of
sperm. I wanted him to have sex with me but we never talked about it and I never
asked. He would sometimes bend me over the bed or a chair, rub himself on me and
shoot over my back. That was the closest we ever got to sex. When Alex came over to
my house I think my mother must have thought that he was after her! He never got me
alone there, she gave him dirty looks and Alex stopped his sexual fun with me. Stewie
and I continued to be good friends. He would come to my house and not me to his.
Alex never acknowledged me again and to this day I am left with the sexy memories
of his hard body, tall penis and hot cum.