Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2017 08:49:09 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Beaux Thibodaux 14

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.

*****

"Because, Beaux, they can't guess about you, either." The look of dismay
and confusion in my young ward's face saddened me, but it also told me some
critical things. Beaux genuinely hated the thought of hurting other people;
he was, as all of us, terrified of being hurt; and most importantly, he'd
suddenly realised just how complicated and delicate the game of sex and
love could be. I left him deep in thought as I brought the Q&A session to a
close and walked him to his room. I kissed him gently on the forehead,
wished him pleasant dreams that I doubted he would have, and made my way to
bed.

*****

Beaux Thibodaux 14: Exertion

By Bear Pup

If you prefer to be warned before reading a story, wanting to know what
will happen so you're not shocked or wasting your time, scroll to the
bottom. If you'd rather be surprised, read on.

*****

That Sunday was the first morning that Beaux woke up in a grump, his mood
matching the lowering skies and forecasted drizzle. I had a lazy-morning
option, Blueberry Muffincake, in the oven. Basically, blueberry muffin mix
with a few minor flavour additions baked in a buttered cake pan, topped
with a walnut-streusel. A secret bonus (and vice) was the wondrous flavour
of the batter that stuck to the bowl and spoon. Know what? It's amazing how
much would 'stick', forcing me -- forcing! -- to lick it clean.

I came to a realisation and a really terrible pun. As the cake approached
doneness, the aroma suffused the house. Within moments my ward was seated
at the kitchen bar scowling darkly at the oven. When it comes to
food... Beaux's Nose Knows.

I plated the steaming breakfast bread in large squares. There was melted
honey-butter on the table and glasses of milk. Beaux polished off the first
slab before I got mine to the table, so I brought the pan over so he could
serve at his pace. He seemed to relax his mood a little.

I thought to the times Beaux had picked herbs and spices by smell alone and
thought to try a quick experiment. I'd ramped up the vanilla with some
actual vanilla-bean caviar and added a bit of nutmeg, something that always
goes well. My secret weapon, and one that made my baked good popular, was
also one that only two people had ever guessed correctly, and then only
after years of tasting my cookies, cakes and breads.

"Beaux, I have a test for you." He frowned at me. "No, Beaux, a fun
one. Food. This {pointing to the cake} is from a boxed mix. I added some
things to it. Now, one of them was extra vanilla, but some of that was
already in there so it doesn't count. Now one of them is a secret
ingredient that I use, a pinch of a spice that doesn't normally go in this
kind of cake. See if you can figure out what it is." He chewed thoughtfully
and smiled.

When he finished the current slab, he stepped to the spice cabinet and
rifled through it, ignoring labels and opening bottle after bottle. He was
back in perhaps two minutes and handed me three bottles and held another.

"It's one of those three." I stared and blinked.

I took a deep breath. "No, Beaux... it's two of them." He'd given me
nutmeg, cardamom and mace. The only reason it wasn't all three was that I'd
forgotten the mace. Two people, EVER, had detected the subtle, warm, earthy
change in flavour from the cardamom, something I used in many of my baked
goods. I'd only known of it from having Christmas at the home of a
Swedish-American semi-boyfriend a decade before. I just sat there
stunned. How the HELL did this kid taste that?

"And, Oncle, next time, add about three or four grains of this." He handed
me cayenne. "You won't taste heat but it makes the sweet sweeter. What kind
of berries are those, by the way?"

"Um, blueberries."

"Yeah, we don't have those. Least not that I know." He polished off more of
the cake as I sat there, thinking.

"Beaux, you like to cook?"

"Oh, I love cooking, me! It's fun. Why?"

"When we hear from Dr Perez on the schooling, I'll be adding something. I
want you to get some cooking lessons to build on what you know. You have a
really great palate, sense of taste. You enjoy it, are a great cook and,
well, it can be a good career."

"Career?"

"Beaux, you'll need to do something to make a living when you're older." He
got thoughtful.

"Why?"

"Well, what did your, um, mom and G-Ma do for money?"

"Mama never did anything, Oncle, truth told. G-Ma mixed up a medicine
called Bayou Black and sold it. People'd come from all over the bayou to
get it."

"Oh? What did it cure?"

Beaux got a serious and disgusted look and gazed right into my eyes,
"Sobriety, Oncle. It cured sobriety. Mama was right fond of it, real fond."
His eyes were doors to pain and worry and it slapped me in the face again
just how abused this boy had been, perhaps not physically or sexually, but
in every other way that mattered. It was a seductive trap to imagine that
Beaux's apparent innocence was complete, as if he were tabula rasa. The
searing pain that shot through me was hard to endure.

"I am so sorry, Beaux. I had no idea." He dropped his eyes and elaborated
to his plate.

"Funny you ask, Oncle. I dreamed it just last night. That G-Ma had sent me
out to gather {toe-LOCK-ee}, um, a weed that grows next to pastures and
{RAY-seen-WAHR}, the roots of a nasty little bush on blackwater
mounds. People kept chasing me, in the dream. Any time I got close,
somebody's holler and I'd run, but I knew I couldn't go back without it."
Beaux shivered and blanched; the nightmare was still fresh. I recalled how
much bad dreams, especially ones just before waking, ruined my days when I
was young.

"Anyway, G-Ma ground that up in a huge mortar, mashing the leaves of one
with the root of the other. She bought some powders from a really creepy
old man from town -- I was never allowed out of my room if he was coming --
and some little wads of {foo-MAY}, um, little bundles a lot like Spanish
moss but smaller and tighter-wound which she got in town.

"I watched sometimes. She was really careful with the powder like it was
poison... but I guess all of it was, truth told. She'd pound and cuss, stir
and curse, finally mix it into moonshine and put it in little bottles she
bought by the box. Anybody come near the house, she'd shoot 'em unless they
knew what to ask for."

"Yeah," I said with a small voice, "she almost shot me that day."

"She didn't know ya and you didn't ask for {bine-WAHR} or Bayou
Black. Anytime somebody came in sight, she'd shoo me into my room and,
until I was too big, make me hide under the bed. Told me that a lot of the
worst types came to her to 'tame the demons'. Wasn't safe to be seen. Mama,
she tamed a whole lot of demons, Kevin." He went quiet and sad.

I came around the counter and pulled him into me in a fierce hug. "Beaux,
you will always be safe here. All of that is past. I can't fix what my
sister did to you, but I can try my best to make it right, son. Please let
me, please?"

Beaux didn't cry, but he shuddered several times as if sobbing without
sound or tears. Everything within me grieved for this young man's poisoned
childhood.

I stood there for a while until Beaux pulled back a little. I proceeded to
clean up the kitchen as he composed himself. He was still in a funk when I
finished, and I noticed that he was glowering at the lowering skies.

"I was hoping to run, me," he mumbled, "but I never liked running in the
rain."

"Well, Beaux, let me show you something that you might like." I took him
down to the 'utility room' which was also a nicely-equipped home gym. "I
don't want you using the free-weights until I get a trainer to work with
you. You can really get hurt easily with those." I had one of the new
pulley-weight, 'resistance' machines that was much safer as well. An
ancient treadmill was also down there.

"You're going to have to decide, Beaux, if you want to stay stripped or
wear a jock." I pulled one on, finding that I tended to crush my tenders
elseways. "I keep clean ones in here, and Barry also makes sure there are
towels stocked."

He held up the jock and turned it round a few times. "Um, what's the point,
Oncle?"

I laughed. "It keeps things in the right places. When you sweat, it's easy
for your, um, balls to get in, well, an inconvenient position and then you
apply pressure from a lift?" Beaux winced. "You get the picture." He still
looked sceptical. "Let me help you."

I stepped him into the jock and pulled it up. "Um, Beaux, I'm going to
arrange you, just didn't want to surprise you, son." I reached in and
quickly got the parts in the right places, feeling Beaux's teen cock plump;
at that age, a puff of air was erection-inducing.  I checked the fit of the
straps and the edges of the pouch. "Hmm. Not a perfect fit. We need to hit
one of the sports stores and get some better suited to you."

He watched as his dick continued to grow and looked over at me, "Kevin, I
may want lots more of these, me. That feels right nice all by itself." I
laughed, then ran him through some of the exercises before setting in for
my own rotation. The Big Rule was stop instantly if there is pain, even a
little. I wasn't going to risk Beaux's health.

Beaux tried some of the exercises, but then ducked out and got his running
shoes. I walked him through the mechanical adjustments available and he hit
the treadmill. Pretty soon the flywheel was singing as he pushed it harder
and harder.

Beaux started to wind down about the time I finished my rotation and we
switched, Beaux doing some of the upper-body exercises with the
cable-weights. He was pouring sweat, as was I, and he smelled deliciously
of young musk and hard work. I felt myself chub heavily, powerless to
prevent that wondrous scent from triggering the groinal reaction.

A glace was all it took for me to see that the hard run had taken the edge
off Beaux's own arousal, but he was clearly thick and heavy. By the time I
was done with my inside run, Beaux was already sitting on one of the
benches and watching. He was also absentmindedly scratching and tugging at
a respectable erection, perhaps not railed, but close. As I walked over to
him, I watched his nostril involuntarily flare. Okay, so there's another
topic for us.

I tugged him up, then stripped off my sopping jock and threw it onto the
top of the washer and Beaux followed suit. I saw Beaux turning and twisting
one arm. "Hurting?"

"Yessir."

"Did you push through something painful?" I culdn't keep the stern,
parental tone out of the question.

"Nosir! Nothing like that. Just aching a little, sore really. Guess I'm not
used to those movements yet, Oncle."

"Then that's not a problem. And you know what, I have a surprise for you."
I led him to my own room and I saw his eyes sweep the area as if trying to
memorise it. I pulled him into the bathroom and headed to the shower.

"Um, Kevin, I got a shower in my own bath."

I smiled. "Not like this one, Beaux." I got him seated (with a yelp as his
sweat-hot backside hit the cold tile) then triggered the control for the
steam. It rushed out at the edges at each end of the floor and Beaux looked
at me in alarm at the spitting, hissing eruption. Within moments, though,
the thick wet heat began its magic. Beaux moaned as he massaged his
shoulder.

"Turn a little, Beaux." He did and I started working the knots out of his
shoulder. Through the yelps and moans and groans, Beaux made it clear that
he was loving it, especially as I moved down his back. The steam was
fading. The failsafe for the unit was that it pumped the enclosure full of
steam and immediately shut off. I stood and triggered another round. Beaux
hadn't turned at all, so I started again on his lower back, finding tight
knots in the lowest area of the lats.

"Um, Kevin, um?" Beaux's voice was shaky.

"Am I hurting you, Beaux?" I pulled my hands back immediately.

"Um, no, no, um." I heard him swallow. "I got a couple questions, me."

"Go ahead, Beaux."

"Well, first, why did I get all excited by, well, the way you smelled in
there?"

I smiled. "The same reason I chubbed up at your own musk." He turned his
head and stared at me, perhaps thinking I was mocking him. "It's normal,
Beaux, to get aroused by certain smells, it's how animal communicate
certain things, usually sexual but not always. Human still have that. If
you're gay, which it is looking more and more that you might be, a man's
scent is likely to excite you more than a woman's."

"Uh, okay. But, um, why did you rubbing my muscles get me..."

"Excited?"

"Oh, Lord, lots more than excited!"

I chuckled. "A touch does not have to be *intended* as sexual for your body
to react to it, Beaux! I wasn't trying to 'sex you up' but when things feel
good, your body will respond."

"Uh, uh, K-Kevin. I'm well, in right state here now, me."

"Beaux, it's fine. It's just us. You've seen me masturbate before. I
*taught* you, son! If you need to drop a load, do it! Do you want me to
wait outside?"

"Oh, God, no; it's not that. I just thought you'd get all blushy and
upset."

"I really am sorry, Beaux. I try, but sometimes I do get embarrassed. That
shouldn't make YOU shy, son. Anyway, it's about time I made sure you kept
up with your 'homework' after our lesson." Beaux giggled. "Go for it,
Beaux."

He turned full forward and I could tell he had been railed for a while,
probably throughout the massage. He was glistening with precum.  He reached
down and stroked both hands alongside the prominent erection, cupping and
fondling his balls. His right hand started to diddle the head a little and
he let out a long, satisfied moan as his other fingers started to play
across his abs.

He soon began to stroke, having no inhibition at all in looked at me and my
own hardon. His hand gradually sped up and then suddenly slowed to nothing
as Beaux hissed between his teeth. He started up again, this time with the
nipples his spare-hand's target, sighing and moaning as he did so. He
started more thrusting of hips and less hand motion then again stopped and
froze. I stared fascinated, at his scrunched face and closed eyes. In mere
weeks, he'd already found the intensity of pleasure from NOT cumming
quickly. I didn't have that control until my late twenties.

His spare hand now went to his ass and he let out a groan straight from a
teen horror film set in a crypt or something. I found that I was stroking
myself as well. As his fingers fluttered and tapped at his tiny pucker, his
hips went wild and he started bucking into his hand. Within minutes he let
out a strangled scream and erupted, spraying his chest with an impressive
load. I followed quickly, with my normal low bellow, much of the goo
clearing the entire width of the shower and painting the glass of the
enclosure.

I staggered up and hit the shower water to come on, then squealed like a
little girl as the water initially came out cold against my steam- and
lust-heated skin. Beaux was still luxuriating in the afterglow, slowly and
gently stroking himself as he went down.

I began to shower and heard Beaux start up the other unit a couple minutes
later. Apparently, he was smarter than me and stepped to the side, avoiding
the icy scream-stream. He was quickly showered and finished moments after I
did and I handed him a towel.

As we dried, I spoke, "Uh, Beaux, was that, well uncomfortable for you?"

He smiled. "You know, Kevin, I made a bet with myself and I came real
close. I expected, 'Um, Beaux? Are you okay with this?'" He laughed at the
shock on my face, and I had to join him. He got a little thoughtful but
still smiled. "No, Kevin, I wasn't uncomfortable and, truth told, that was
one of the best yet. I'm not sure I want it to be a habit, but I don't see
it as a problem." His voice perked up, "So, Professor, how did I do on my
test today?"

"Oh, you passed, Beaux. You passed with flying colours." I slapped his
shoulder and we went out into the family room and settled in from of the
fireplace, watching the drips as the drizzle collected on the windows and
streamed slowly down. "You did great, Beaux, really. I think Rob and Dr
Silver will agree. We may *both* get gold stars for this week.

<eof>

In this chapter:
Sunday: M/T: touch, scent, masturbation --  M/M: none

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
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Beaux Thibodaux: 14 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 14 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
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Lake Desolation: 7 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 2 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Brother Bear: 2 chapter .../incest/brother-bear