Date: Thu, 19 Sep 2019 20:59:36 -0700 From: JD SFO Subject: Ben the Boylover and Nick his Neighbor Part 1 Thank you, Gentle Reader, for opening this story, a series about a man who loves boys and the boys he loves. Ben, Nick, and the rest of the cast of characters are fictional, and do not represent any person living or dead. The story is fantasy and exists in that realm, for letting the events unfold in real time and in real life would land our hero Ben in a whole heap of trouble. So, for the purposes of keeping our noses clean, gentlemen, let's keep things unreal. Elements in this story include sex between adults and minors, some racier elements might include watersports, gainer/encourager dynamics, and groups, but for the most part just good old-fashioned cocksucking and fucking. This story definitely falls into the category of Gay/ Adult-Youth. And so, on with our story: Ben the Boylover and his Neighbor Nick - Part 1 Every time another one of these sensational stories broke about a guy getting busted for having kiddie porn stashed on his hard drives or a box of photos in his basement I breathed a sigh of relief that pictures had never been my thing. Tangible evidence, items that can be found. At some point a file, photo, or video has to be copied, sent, delivered, received - all opportunities to be caught by some do-good cop or social worker or concerned citizen. No, I preferred one on one action, even if it meant slow, deliberate work and long periods between encounters. Even those were riskier these days with all the face-recognition cameras, gps locators on cell phones, and the trend that the courts trusted the word of a kid over the word of an adult. I had managed to get to 40 years old, and my entire adult life as a man-boy lover, without so much as a close call. Part of the reason for this was that I never believed in forcing a boy to do anything he didn't want to do. I might be persuasive, even employing a bit of kindhearted coercion, but at the end of the day, I am a romantic - I want the boy to want it as much as I do. So in any of the encounters -- some one-offs, and some over time -- there were never any hard feelings, never any tattling, never any discovery. I like all ages, really. As long as they are underage -- that's the thrill to me. Seven year-olds, ten year-olds, just coming in to their teens-year-olds, seventeen year-olds, they all have their charms and their place in life, and make my dick throb. I like all types, too, chubby, jockish, lean, nerdy, outgoing, quiet, Asian, white, black, hispanic -- all boys have beauty in some way. Until they are eighteen, and then, instant cockblock. It's just how I am wired. As I said above, I am 40. Just turned 40 a few weeks ago. Other things that happened this year include selling my start-up to a big, evil corporation for their big, evil stock and cash and moving from a condo to a single-family house in San Francisco, which I remodeled and relandscaped. When asked if I wanted to stay on and run my team within a new organization, I said no thank you. I built them up, made them millionaires, and now it was time for me to exit the scene. Was I interested in a new project? Again, no thank you. I'm going to garden, travel, enjoy life. Maybe one day I'd do the talking circuit, but for now, no alarm, no schedule, no stress. I had a 40 year-old body that I was proud of. The gym had always been my stress outlet, and I kept up with a cardio, lifting, and stretching regimen that left me in good physical shape. I was getting a bit of a dad bod, probably because I love to cook and drink wine, but I never let it get out of control. Tall, blonde, green eyes, my nordic roots were pretty plain to see. Some people found me handsome, I had a good face, if I did say so myself, and my beard was kept short and tame. My new house was in one of a few neighborhoods in densely-built San Francisco that had single-family homes with some yard around them. It was in a part of the city that was developed in the Twenties and Thirties, and which had some lovely craftsman style homes and spanish style homes - both of which were popular in that time period in San Francisco. Mine was a classic spanish style home, white washed walls, red-tiled roof, it was beautiful to me, and all mine. Given that it was San Francisco it cost a fortune, and still only had three bedrooms, but it had a yard and a garden and a driveway. The large garage was separate from the house, and above it, there was a second living space, probably originally built as an in-law unit or a space for a maid or a caretaker. It had two small bedrooms, a shared bath, a pokey kitchen, and a little living room. After a few months of living in my new home, I had redecorated and remodeled it to my tastes, staying true to the character of the house. It was a nice home, welcoming and comfortable. I was ready to turn to my other hobby - travel - and see more of the world. At some point, I thought, it might be nice to have someone living in the in-law, who could be around to watch the place -- let the landscaper and the maid in -- while I was gone on my travels. I had the in-law unit painted and cleaned and did some updates to the kitchen and bathroom, wired it for cable and internet, and decided I'd look for a tenant. I placed an ad on Craigslist, asking for a pretty sizeable rent, to encourage a kind of tenant who I thought might take care of the place. I made a point to emphasize that it was an LGBTQ+ friendly property, hoping to get someone who wouldn't be shocked to learn I was gay. Within a couple of days I had several emails asking for more information or to see the place. I decided to hold an open house the following weekend, where I would be meeting interested parties, giving them a walk-through, and accepting applications. The following week arrived, and between 1 and 4 on a Sunday afternoon, seven interested parties came through. It was the last person who turned out to be most interesting to me. She arrived almost at 4, and I was about to close up and return to my side of the property when she came to the door. She introduced herself as Susan Garfield. She seemed close to my age, had nice clothes, and had driven a new model European car. As I took her through and asked her if it were just she who would potentially be living here, she told me about her recent divorce and having sole custody of their ten year-old son. The dad had taken off with a younger woman, leaving her with their child, and, what seemed like a lot of assets, a ton of alimony, and a hefty child support payment. Her application finances indicated that she could more than cover rent, and, on one occasion, she mentioned that she was attracted to the property and the neighborhood and the high rent because it would spend more of her ex's money. Vengeance, I could get behind that. She was a bit bitter, I could tell, but she seemed nice, and she seemed to like the place. She was looking to start over in a clean place in a good neighborhood with her son, and, what was better, was that he was attending the Catholic school just down the street. A handshake, a promise to call after I'd checked her references and run her credit, and our meeting was over. I hoped she checked out, because I wanted to rent to her. A few days later, all her boxes had been checked, and I called her to see if she was still interested in the place. She seemed relieved, and even more so when I said she could move in anytime in the next thirty days, and I'd not take rent until the beginning of the next month. I wanted to get her started off on the right foot. She signed and scanned and emailed the lease back within an hour of my emailing to her, and we settled on a date. Move-in day was quick. They didn't seem to have a lot of stuff -- just the basics. Susan mentioned that she had wanted to start over, buy new furniture that didn't "smell like her ex." I appreciated the scorned woman thing, and put her in touch with my decorator, in case she wanted to decorate in the same style as the main house, as I had. We were standing in the driveway as she was directing the movers when her boy came downstairs to fetch one of his boxes from the truck. "Nicky, meet Mr. Donovan, our new neighbor. He lives just there," she pointed to my house. I stuck out my hand. "Pleased to meet you, sport. You excited to move in?" He closed his fist to approach my extended hand, and I realized I was getting a fist bap instead of a handshake - kids these days. I altered course, bapped his fist, and then I looked down at him. Christ, he was beautiful. A little chubby, his tshirt was tight on his frame. The warm day and the lifting and stairs probably made him sweat a bit, and I could see his hair was a little damp on his long bangs. Blue eyes looked up at me, and I looked down at his chubby cheeks and ruddy face and gave him a smile. "I'm Nick," he said, "not Nicky," he added, giving his mother a dirty look. "Well, Nick, welcome to the neighborhood." "Thanks!" he said over his shoulder as he carted away a cardboard box with "NICK" scrawled in marker across the side. Addressing Susan, I said, "I imagine you haven't gone grocery shopping yet, and I was going to throw some stuff on the grill later this evening. Would you two like to come over for dinner?" I paused, looking at my watch, "It's 3:30 now, want to say 7?" She looked genuinely relieved, "We've been existing on GrubHub and DoorDash for the last two weeks as we've been packing up, I'd love some real food," she admitted, with a smile. "See you at seven, then!" and, as the movers took the last items from her truck, I saw myself off, and went back into my home. Truth be told, I was a bit surprised at myself - I didn't know these people, but it seemed like a neighborly thing to do, and I had everything in my kitchen. I thawed some chicken thighs, and cut them into cubes, putting them on skewers with peppers and onions, and tossed together a quick marinade. I always had white wine in the fridge, but I didn't know what she liked, so I put some beer in as well to chill, and added some cans of Coke as well. After that, I sat down in the sun room to enjoy the late afternoon. San Francisco's faithful breeze was starting up, but it looked like it wouldn't be foggy tonight. We might be able to eat outside. I let my mind wander to Nick not Nicky. He really was pretty. I'd say he was probably about average height for a ten year-old, but definitely overweight. His t-shirt was real tight, and from his mother's financials I knew she could afford clothes, so it led me to wonder if his weight gain was recent. It looked like he had soft boy tits, too, and there was just the littlest hint of dampness under them from his sweat. I was definitely starting to chub up just thinking about him, and wondering how I was going to restrain myself when he was near. His ass, as he walked away from me carrying his box, was a thing of beauty, too. Plump, curvy, and filling out his shorts, he looked delectable -- just the kind of body that gets an boy-perv like me to pay attention. The thing that was stuck on replay in my head, though, was how the exertion from stairs and boxes and warm weather, showed on his face. The sweat on his brow was sexy, and I imagined ruffling his hair or smoothing back his bangs and feeling the dampness. His jaw was slacked in that way that someone who is panting a bit from hard work might be trying to suck in a bit more air. It made me wonder how out of shape he was. And those boy tits, I wanted my tongue and lips and beard against what I just knew had to be smooth soft skin. I reached down the front of my shorts and felt my dick, swollen, hard, starting to leak. I pulled down my shorts and wanked myself right there, imagining rubbing my cock against those red lips and slack jaw and chubby cheeks. Fuck, that little fatboy had my perv dick hard and my fist pumping my shaft until finally I came in ropes on the tile floor in front of me. I took a second to come back to earth after that orgasm and shook my head to wake myself from the fantasy. Taking my shorts, I mopped up the cum, and stood up from the rattan lounge settee. What I had never noticed before, was that the sun room, with three walls of floor to ceiling awning windows, was visible from the upper floor of the garage. As I started to leave to head upstairs, I saw the quick movement of a cute chubby face duck away from the window of what I now guessed was Nick's bedroom. I walked upstairs hurriedly, my cock already inflating again at the idea that my sexy little fatboy neighbor just watched me jack off; and, as I showered, I sprayed the tile walls with another load of cum. As 7PM approached, it looked like it would be a nice night to eat outside, after all. I started the grill to get it hot, made up a quick salad, and brought some plates out to the table on the patio just as I saw Susan and Nick come out from around the side of the house. "Welcome!" I said to them. "Thank you again for this. We were just getting hungry, weren't we, Nicky?" Susan said, genuinely. "Can I offer you something to drink? I have wine, white or red, beer, soda, water," I offered. "Oh, white wine for me, please," Susan replied. "May I have a soda, please?" Nick asked. "You bet, can you come in and help me carry them out?" I asked, addressing Nick. To Susan, I said "have a seat, we'll be out in a flash." Nick seemed shy and waited for my cue to learn what I wanted from him. I handed him a glass, and pointed to the freezer door. "Fill this up with ice, and then there's soda in the fridge. Pick what you'd like." While he was doing that, I opened the fridge, and pulled out the chicken skewers, the salad, and a bottle of chardonnay. "Will you take this bottle out to the table, and come back in for the glasses and opener?" I asked Nick, who had a glass of Coke in one hand. While he was doing that, I took the dish of chicken out to the outdoor kitchen and set it next to the grill, which was getting nice and hot. Looking over, I saw Nick return with the bottle and glasses, and I went over to open it up. Pouring two glasses, I raised my glass to the two of them and welcomed them to their new home. "Nick, wanna help me on the grill?" I asked. Nick came over, and I saw Susan frowning at her phone, and texting while she drank her wine. I asked Nick the usual questions - what grade he was in (fifth), what was his favorite subject at school (recess, to which I laughed and bapped his fist), did he play any sports (no). He did tell me about video games, and I was surprised at some of the games he was playing. They were ones I enjoyed myself, and I thought they might be a bit mature for a ten year-old, but it wasn't my business. I might have guessed from his physique and pale skin, he was definitely a gamer, and didn't spend much time outside. Soon enough the skewers were finished, and I removed them from the grill, handed them off to Nick, and he brought the platter to the table. Approaching the table, I went to refill my glass, only to discover that the bottle was almost empty. I finished it off, and went in the house to get another. "Nick, how are you doing on Coke?" I heard his mother say something to him, and then he came in after me, judging from his face, she'd told him no more Coke, and he asked if he could have some water. I showed him where to put his dirty glass, handed him a new one, and pointed again to the door of the fridge where he could get both ice and water. As I came back outside, I happened to see Susan's phone screen. She was swiping on an app -- I had never been on Tindr, my tastes not anywhere near that direction, but it looked like the interface. Seeing us arrive, bearing more wine, she set her phone down. "This looks delicious," she said. I held my glass up again as we took our seats, offered cheers, and passed the dishes around. There was plenty of food, and I noticed Nick took four skewers. "Nicky, that's a lot of food, and you've been overdoing it. Put two back, and if you are still hungry after that, you may have another," Susan admonished. Nick placed them back on the platter and looked sullen. I let the moment go. We had small talk around the table. Susan was polite, and she was drinking down the wine pretty quickly. The second bottle was rapidly depleting. At one point, her phone buzzed, and she looked at it. "It's your asshole father," she said, reading the message. "He wants to know our new address." "Dad is going to come over?" Nick said with an enthusiastic excitement. "I just typed, `The checks are all direct deposit, so there's no need to have our new address,'" at this, she laughed to herself. "Not like he wants to see us, anyway." I could see the disappointment on Nick's face, as he looked down at his plate. "What is there's an emergency?" I asked, as the idea that she would not give the father of her child her new address was unsettling to me. I knew it was wrong to interfere, but I couldn't help feeling that she was wrong. "I'll tell him, eventually, but it's nice to make him wait. He's not even in the country right now," she justified. The evening went on like that, Nick getting more withdrawn, and Susan talking more about her ex husband the more she drank. Her voice was getting louder, and she let a few more curse words out. I had a pretty dirty mouth when I was with my friends, but never in front of kids would I talk that way. Finally, I decided it was time for a change. "Who wants ice cream? I have stuff to make sundaes," I offered, scooting my chair back and standing up. "Oooh! Yes, please!" Nick was first in line. "Nicky, I don't think you need dessert, and certainly not a sundae," Susan scolded. "C'mon, Mom, please just a little?" he tried, using his pleading voice. She gave him a look that said the conversation was over, and Nick looked over at me. I would never have treated Nick this way, or anyone, in public, but it wasn't my call. "Mom's the boss, buddy," I said, shrugging my shoulders. We all stood, and they helped me bring plates and glasses back into the kitchen. Then, saying tomorrow was an early day, Susan herded Nick out the door, thanking me on the way out. Nick pulled away from his mother for a minute, and came over and hugged my torso, putting his head against my belly. "Thanks for dinner, Mr. Donovan." I could feel his chubby belly and chest pressing against my legs and thighs. He held the hug for a moment longer than was necessary, long enough, I am sure, to feel the involuntary response of my dick chubbing up. In fact, I am certain he pressed deliberately against it. And with that, he released and rushed out the door, leaving me alone with my suddenly growing cock.