Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2017 11:17:18 -0400
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Beaux Thibodaux 10

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between adult and young-adult men, some of them related to one another. Go
away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my
characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of
future stories. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to keep the cum coming.

*****

I was halfway through the book when I heard Beaux's door open and a very
happy Barry came out laughing, followed by Beaux. Not a stitch of clothing
was in evidence... anywhere.

*****

Beaux Thibodaux 10: How Touching!

By Bear Pup

M/T; sexuality; touching; g-spots

Do you have any idea how hard it is look stern and disapproving when you're
butt-nekkid? In point of fact, I probably just looked constipated. They
did, however, notice that my jaw had damn near fallen off.

Barry, calm as fuck, walked over to me and gave my cheek a peck before
heading up to his truck. Admittedly, he did that when he left almost every
day. And, yeah, we were both normally 'without apparel'. And yeah, I'd told
Beaux that sex was nothing to be ashamed of, and... AGH! I don't CARE!

Beaux grabbed some strange juice drink that Barry kept stocked in the bar
and with which he made amazing cocktails when he bartended a party for me,
then sat down across from me. His beautiful eyes were a rich, wondrous
shade of blue that literally sparkled. This detail did NOT help.

He looked down at one of the brochures, a picture of a stunning fireplace
surround of carved stone reminiscent of a Tolkien fantasy. "Oh, that one's
pretty, Oncle! Do people carve these?"

"But, b-b-b-b," I sounded like a fritzing outboard motor. Beaux looked up,
puzzled.

"You okay, Oncle? You look flushed."

"..."

"Something wrong, Oncle?"

"..." I was quite the brilliant conversationalist this afternoon.

Beaux's eyes suddenly narrowed and got a slight glint to them. "This ain't
about Barry, is it?"

"YES!" My voice cracked in a way it hadn't since the horror of
puberty. "Yes, it's about Barry. What did he do, you, he... Both of you?"

My young ward's voice dropped at least one register. "Now you just calm
yourself, Kevin." He got up and popped the top from an icy beer and pushed
it into my hand. "We talked about this. No one you don't know. Here in the
house only. Keep it in my room. Nothing you haven't told me about. Nothing
I don't want to do."

"But that was BARRY!" I chugged half the beer and nearly choked, but as my
brain was melting and dribbling out of my ears, I needed something.

Beaux eyes had gone from sparkling to glinting, and the blue was moving
toward that seawater colour that could look blue or green depending on how
the light struck.

"Yes, that was Barry. The Barry you, Kevin, trust enough to take care of
this house and do your shopping and, if you two are to be believed, keep
all your secrets. That Barry. The Barry that called me 'Honey' and started
to flirt with me when I first met him and didn't know what flirting was,
Kevin. So, we're right clear on which Barry. Go on, Kevin."

"But BARRY?"

"We just covered that, Kevin, or is this a 'why' type of question? He's
beautiful and nice and sweet and he flirted and I asked questions and he
answered them. Questions you keep stuttering about. Like what does *that*
do when you touch *there*."

"T-t-t-t-touch?"

"Yes, Kevin, touch. Unless I'm much mistaken the first 'lesson' on what
people do was something like, 'touch the man and let him touch
you. Anywhere, everywhere.' You recall that different, do you, Kevin?"

Rest of beer. Gone. Rest of voice. Gone. Rest of brain. Also gone. I made a
few gargling noises I think. Beaux patted me on the shoulder and said,
"Let's talk about this later, Kevin. You look a bit upset. It's okay; we
set aside every Wednesday evening for discussing suchlike, and that's a few
hours from now. You're bringing new stuff to do and I'm bringing
questions. And lord do I have questions."

I found myself doing something I hadn't done since I was in my early 20s
and was flustered in a bar. I was methodically peeling away the label from
the bottle, completely absorbed in making sure that every bit came off
intact and whole. Why? Because it let me *not* think about Beaux and Barry,
what I was supposed to bring 'new' tonight or what questions Beaux was
bringing.

I eventually snapped out of it by pretending that I had hallucinated the
whole thing and that it was only Tuesday so I had a whole day to think
about the Wednesday Talk. Self-delusion was all I had left.

I made us a quick lunch of brats with peppers and onions on some crusty
rolls. Beaux said that the flavour of that sausage would take getting used
to since he was used to spicy Andouille and Tasso or the rich and mild
Boudin. Brats were most like the last, but a lot greasier. Regardless,
Beaux ate three. Even after just a week, I was starting to see a little
more flesh on the boy which really made me happy.

The afternoon was the first I'd really spent on work. There were several
queries from building departments on specifics, but nothing out of the
ordinary. They take time, though, and it was approaching dinnertime when I
sealed up the last one.

Tonight, I felt the need for homey comfort food. I pulled a half-dozen
thin, bone-in pork chops from the freezer, two cans of chicken broth and
set to slicing several onions. "What you making, Oncle?"

"Fricassee."

"Now that's one that I know, me! You using pork? I normally use rabbit or
chicken."

"Yep, pork tonight." I dredged the pork in flour and corn starch seasoned
with salt, pepper and paprika. In the giant cast-iron skillet and I seared
off the pork in some bacon drippings and set it aside and reached for the
flour. Beaux's long, thin fingers suddenly held my wrist.

"Too hot, Oncle. Let me, please?" I looked up into those deep, now sky-blue
eyes. I stepped back and Beaux pulled the skillet off the heat entirely. He
turned to the fridge and pulled out some butter and the container of bacon
drippings. He also extracted a stalk of celery. Next, he went to the spice
rack. I watched, intrigued, as he ignored the labels and smelled each
bottle and tin in turn. What ended on the counter were sage, thyme, white
pepper, ground mustard and cayenne.

He set to work with surprising speed. The celery was reduced to the finest
dice I'd ever seen, almost as if it had been grated. He'd found a head of
garlic and diced a clove just as fine. A huge pat of butter and a lesser
amount of bacon drippings when back into the now-warm pan over low heat. In
went flour and a pinch of salt and Beaux tended it lovingly as it very
slowly browned. Midway through he asked over his shoulder, "You got rice,
Oncle?"

I started the rice with a bit of butter and salt and Beaux threw in a bay
leaf before I set the lid. He then went back to his roux. Perhaps ten
minutes and it had deepened in colour until it was a rich, soft, luscious
brown. Up went the temp and in went the onions and celery which spit a
little as the roux coated them. Beaux was masterful. A roux at that stage
was rightly called Cajun Napalm. If you got some on your skin, you damned
well KNEW. Since Beaux was cooking nekkid, let's just say the risks
were... extreme.

When the onions started to soften, in went the garlic and herbs, then and
the broth. Beaux fussed for a couple minutes adding tiny sips of water
until he was satisfied. He slipped the pork back into the pan and used a
plate to cover it as it bubbled and burbled over low heat.

The smell from that pan was... insane. Beaux was right; I always overcooked
my roux and did so too fast so you could still smell a hint of flour. And I
never, ever thought of the tiny sprinkle of mustard or the dash of
cayenne. Within a few minutes, the rice timer dinged which made Beaux
jump. I moved to the rice but he stopped me. "It don't smell done yet,
Oncle."

I looked at him and he finished up the main dish by removing the
now-fork-tender chops to a plate and making a few final adjustments to the
gravy, tasting off the back of a spoon and shaking in tiny amounts of a few
more herbs and spices from the rack, shoving the rice off the burner with
an elbow, apparently when it 'smelled right'. "They got filé up here,
Oncle?" I knew the term but shrugged. "Sass-Fras leaves. Don't need it for
this though I find a tiny pinch do make a difference, me. I'll ask Barry."
BING! The whole 'Barry' thing exploded across my brain so I missed Beaux
plating but was brought back hard to reality when the steam from my plate
ensnared every sense.

I'd never had fricassee in New Orleans, but it was as if a magic portal had
opened. I closed my eyes and could hear the murmurs of one of the great
restaurants of that city; these flavours were easily a match for any of
those famed chefs. Damn, but what *was* this kid? I actually fought Beaux
over the last pork chop; he'd already wolfed four and I was actually ready
to spear his hand with my fork when I saw him reach for what would be my
second. I think I might have growled.

Beaux had cooked so I shooed him off and did the clean-up. I was surprised
how little mess there was. Beaux policed his space as he cooked, something
I did but not nearly as well. I finished up to find Beaux sitting there
with a beer for me and a root beer for himself wearing a crooked grin. "So,
you ready for our talk, Kevin."

FUCK! Deep sigh, "Honestly, Beaux, I'm not. But I doubt I ever will
be. Like Rob said, this is pushing my boundaries and no mistake. Let's head
to the library."

We settled in and I said, "I think I'll start because I kinda need to work
up to the, um, Barry thing." Beaux's eyes narrowed dangerously but he said
nothing.

"You asked about what people do together. The answer is, a lot. There is no
'right way' to have sex just as there is no 'right way' to cook, and for
some of the same reasons. Not everyone likes the same things. Just like
cooking, there are also things that very few people like, but those folks
love it intently. We'll get to that later; it's normally called kink. We'll
start, though with the stuff that is pretty universal."

"Like touching, Kevin?"

"Absolutely. There are very few sexual things that don't include touching,
so it's where I started when we talked. Nearly everyone needs to be touched
and longs to touch others. You saw the monkeys grooming each other? People
don't touch much in public, so touching is an important part of
intimacy. Almost any part of the body may be one that a person loves to
have touched or loves to touch on another."

"But why did some places that Barry touched on me that felt wonderful have
no really effect when I touched Barry the same way? Did I do it wrong?"

Aaaaaaand, there we were. Again, self-delusion came to the rescue. Beaux
had not been intimate with Barry per se, but with, um, Jupiter with
Eagle. Whenever Beaux said 'Barry' I'd translate into 'Jupiter' and maybe,
just maybe, I could get through this. I did notice that 'blushing' was no
longer an appropriate term for me; if any more blood rushed to my face, it
would begin to leak from my pores.

"No, you probably did it perfectly, but we can talk about that as well. The
big difference is that no two people are sensitive in exactly the same
places. The most common, of course are the genitals, for men that's the
cock and balls, and often the nipples and, um, ass. For women..."

"Kevin, let's stick to men for now. I need a lot more understanding of, um,
the parts and such." I noticed that Beaux was blushing as well, and his
eyes were wide and fascinated with what I was saying. I also noticed that
he was railed, and railed solid.

"Okay. For most people, lips and the tongue are sexually-stimulating which
is why kissing is so commonly a part of lovemaking. Those are the 'basic
ingredients' in nearly every sexual recipe. Now the other common ones are
the ears and earlobes..."

"Yeah, that one got me, true!" Jupiter! Think Jupiter! AGH!

"... um, yeah, and neck. Belly and belly-button are often on the list and,
surprisingly, toes."

"That one truly surprised me. Barry near screamed when I touched his toes
and feet. I just don't see it, though. It tickles." Please, God, kill me
now. Or at least visit a painful plague on Rob and Dr Silvers! Barry, I
will find a way to kill you, too...

"Oddly, tickling is a really rather common 'kink'; like I said, we'll get
to those later," like when you're fifty, "but toes and feet are sensitive
and often sexually-stimulating. Anything close to the other areas are often
really great. For m... for some men, the area alongside the, um, balls
where the legs start and especially the area below the balls, often called
the taint, are nearly as intense of the genitals themselves."

"Okay, Kevin, but why do some kinds of touches work and others don't on the
same place. When Barry stroked really soft on that part, um, taint, it made
me crazy but the rubbing just felt like nothing?"

"Barry touched your..."

"Kevin, let's stop for a second. You said touching anywhere and
everywhere. I didn't think you'd be like this and I don't know why and it
makes me think that now you want to change the rules. Is there anyone,
Kevin, that you trust as much to take care of all the things you care about
more than Barry? Be honest."

For the billionth time, I cursed whichever God made me guardian to a kid
smarter than I was.

Sigh. "No."

"You think Barry would hurt me?"

Sigh. "No."

"You think he'd be nice and careful to me, since he knows how much you care
about me?"

Sigh. "Yes." Wait. I'm supposed to be the ADULT here. How did I end up the
one with the deep sighs and surly, monosyllabic answers? "Yes, Beaux. Part
of it was shock. Part of it was that you were far more ready for, well,
everything, than I was ready for your to be ready for..."

Beaux laughed. "That sentence made no sense, Oncle, but I know what you
meant to say. That you were having trouble talking about this stuff and me
actually doing it threw you?"

"Exactly. And I worry, Beaux. If I'd taken a minute to think, I'd know
Barry was anything but a threat. But I didn't think. I let decades of
stupid rules kick in and freaked out. And I'll tell you, Beaux, it's going
to happen again! I swear to try, but I also promise that I'll fail on
occasion. Today. Barry. You. Barry. AGH! Today was a massive fail. I'm
sorry."

"Don't be," he was smiling at me, beaming really. "I like being cared about
like that. It's new to me." My blush vanished as my heart ripped
apart. This poor kid. And I was worried about being embarrassed? How
fucking stupid was I, really? I moved immediately around the table and
gathered him in my arms.

"Beaux, you are a joy. You are so special to me. I'm screwing up -- I know
this makes no sense -- I keep screwing up because I'm so damned scared of
screwing up!"

He pulled into me as well and I settled us on the floor, leaned against his
chair and put my arms fully around him, pulling him into a tight, full-body
hug. He curled into me and I could feel him crying softly, and his wet hair
told me I was crying a little too. I rocked him. A long time later, I
realised that I'd been sitting there, naked and hugging a tightly-curled
mass of male perfection, ass pressed against my own plump cock and never
once did it feel sexual.

"I love you Beaux. I did when I first saw you. You are going to grow into
an amazing man and I am so, so worried that I'll mess that up. So worried
that I *am* messing it up! I've never been a parent and this scares the
shit out of me, Beaux."

He looked up at me with watery eyes that glowed like sapphires. "No, Oncle,
please. You're saving me, Oncle. I know you're scared, but you know what?
That's why I'm NOT scared, Oncle. I've never felt this safe. I'm not sure I
ever knew what safe felt like. I love you, Oncle. I truly do. And I know
this is hard for you but those doctors," his voice was harsh on the word,
"they're right. I need to be taught and, Oncle, I think you need to teach
someone, someone like me."

I nuzzled into his hair again and just rocked him. Rocked us. After a
while, I sighed deeply and released him from my intense grip. He looked up
at me, tears long dried. "Thank you, Oncle. Truly thank you."

"Beaux, thank you, too. You're right. You are filling a hole I didn't know
I had in my life. I'm still scared -- petrified -- but I'll do whatever I
can, son. So, give me a minute to pull myself together and let's continue."
I went to the kitchen and grabbed another beer and another soda for Beaux.

"Now, this part is gonna kill me and I'm blushing even before I ask, but
bear with me. Which parts on you really made you sit up and take notice
when {gulp} Barry, um, touched you?"

Beaux blushed hard as well, and the blush was not the only hard thing. His
cock looked fit to split and had started to leak. "T-taint, like I
said. B-balls of course. Earlobes, oh my those were unexpected! The area
around my n-, um, nipples even more than the nipple themselves. Near
everything, um, back behind. The, well, everything there. My sides, you
didn't mention that, but when he ran his hands down my sides I just
shivered. He didn't do much down round my c-cock, though, but I think that
area next to it and above it is really great when I touch it myself, so
that for surely."

"Okay, that's a good start. I, um, know Barry's pretty well. Any of them
surprise you?"

"Yeah. The toes and feet, of course, we talked about that. But he didn't
like me playing with him, um, balls?"

I chuckled, "No, he wouldn't. They're incredibly sensitive and they either
tickle if the touch is light or hurt if it's not."

"His armpits. I was like the opposite of me. My armpits tickled something
terrible but my sides felt wonderful. His right purred when I played with
his underarms, but giggled and squirmed away if I so much as touched his
sides."

I laughed hard at that one. "Yeah, and I'll tell you a secret. If you'd
have kept on tickling him there you would have driven him wild. You can
damned near make him cu...{cough} really, really excited with tickles. It's
why it came to mind when I talked about kinks; tickling is one of Barry's."

Beaux's eyes were wide enough I could see the whites all the way
around. "But not you, Kevin?"

"Oh, God NO! I had friend when I was a kid who would tickle me until I wet
myself. NOT a sexy experience, at least for me. Tickling for me just
tickles."

"Good, cuz I think I'm like that. Well," insert another adorable blush
here, "maybe not the wetting myself part, but the not really liking the
tickles to true, me."

"Other puzzlers?"

"No. Well, yes, but not about the touching. Some of the, um, places make my
d-dick twitch so it almost scared me. And others made me, well, I didn't
wet myself and didn't c-cum, but I got real wet and a little sticky? Um,
{adorable blush} like now?" We both looked down as his wet and shiny
cockhead fully exposed and dripping down one side.

"When we talked about jacking off, I mentioned that both men and women make
lubricants and that men make less where women make a lot. What you're
leaking is pre-cum, also called things like 'slick' or 'dogwater' or mostly
just 'pre'. Things that seriously excite you or your body will cause you to
start to leak pre. It's a way to know when you're really driving your
partner nuts in a very, very good way."

"Oh, good. I was worried."

"Which 'parts' in particular did that."

"Well, one I'm real embarrassed by, Kevin. I didn't know you could touch
that, much less that it might feel good. My, um," he whispered the last
part, "shithole."

"Well, that settles the Saturday lesson. We need to get you some anatomy
and slang terms. It is, literally, your shithole, but that is a fairly
gross word. There are medical ones like anus and sphincter, but asshole or
ass are common, except 'ass' along can mean anything in that general
area. Hole is good, and I'll come up with others if I think about it. Let's
use ass for this."

My utterly unfazed and no-nonsense phrasing and tone did wonders. "Well,
when he touched and teased around my, um, ass, I nearly came up off the
bed. I never felt anything so powerful! The taint and my earlobes were
close, but nothing like my ass. It was more intense than my c-cock even.

"Did you and, um, Barry, um, bring each other off?"

Beaux got a thoughtful look. "I wasn't sure I wanted to. We talked about
it. Barry was right reluctant since I'd told him we only talked about
touching and he wasn't sure it included, well, that. He also said that
he'd..."

"Yes?"

"Um, that he'd rather just watch me."

That got a full belly-laugh, "Pure Barry, Beaux. A hot and sexy guy like
you? Short of having all out sex, letting him watch you get off was
probably the hottest thing you could have done. So, um, did you?"

"Yes." His voice was a little small and his gaze tentative.

"Good! Barry will be jacking off to that image for WEEKS. Serves him right,
too."

"So, it was okay?"

"More than okay, Beaux. You made his day; damn, you probably made his
month. And," I leered slightly, "I bet it felt really good to have someone
look at your with that hunger as you got off, didn't it?"

He blushed harder and looked down, but was smiling really wide. "It did for
true. I was a bit worried about how much it made me, you know, ready."

"Remember the number one thing about sex is pleasure, Beaux, yours and your
partners'. You don't have to touch someone to bring them pleasure, but it's
a fine was to do it. I guarantee that Barry probably loved it even more
than you did. That's success, son, it really is.

"So, I told you that I would bring a new one to the table today. And I just
decided what it would be. I want you to close your eyes and think about how
Barry's fingers felt on your earlobes, taint and ass." I could tell by a
sudden surge of dogwater erupting from his piss-slit that he had the image
firmly in front of him. "Now think what it would feel like for the same
thing to be done by... a man's tongue." Beaux's eyes flew open and he
sucked in a shuddering gasp so deep I thought he'd burst. In a strangled
voice, Beaux asked to be excused and literally ran to his room. I just sat
and laughed at the image, hoping I'd left him enough Jax Wax to avoid an
embarrassing visit to Rob's office.

<eof>

Author's Note: Digressions like food, sightseeing, art and other
irrelevancies are a real part of this story. Several people have noted that
it detracts from the tale, and I'm sorry for that, but it's how I see
what's happening and understand the characters. I do promise this: I will
never put sexy stuff or critical plot elements in such digressions, so
please feel free to skips those parts if you like.

*****

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
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