Date: Sun, 26 Sep 2021 23:12:49 +0000 From: encolpius1 Subject: Every Man Needs A Boy 22 EVERY MAN NEEDS A BOY By Encolpius Editing by SkyBorn AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the third and final part of the story. It is spring 2020. Sam is a senior in high school and the narrator. Thank you to Gacha_Blue for the characters and getting me going on the story. Feedback is always appreciated! Write to encolpius1@protonmail.com DONATE! DONATE! DONATE! BOOK THREE BOYS AND MEN ONE I was on my way to sixth period when I got the blast text. Our season was canceled. We were 6-0, leading the region, ranked #2 in the state. All gone. The season was over. Final. No appeal. Done. At that point, nobody knew anything about the future. We didn't know when, if ever, we'd come back to school. We didn't know if travel ball was still a possibility for summer. Since they were canceling the NBA and college baseball, nobody knew if the major leagues were going to play or not. And that was a problem. Baseball might be our life but it was Tyler's job, too. Though, I wasn't thinking about Tyler being out of a job. That thought came later. After I got passed being a selfish, self-absorbed jerk. My senior year. The home stretch of high school. The final pay off. The best part. Gone. No more hanging out with my friends. Losing my spot as the super jock king of the school. (Okay, I play baseball, not football or basketball so I wasn't jock king of the school, but still.) I was complaining to Tyler about it but he wasn't sympathetic. "The Covid lockdown wasn't put into place just to screw with you, Sam. This is a big deal." "Yeah, I know that, Tyler," I shot back. "But that doesn't make it suck any less, you know. My one chance to be a senior in high school. My one chance to hang out with my friends, say good bye before we move on, win state. Poof. It's all gone because of this thing. And they don't even know how bad it is anyway." "Yeah. But there are going to be a lot of people hurting with this lockdown. A lot of people not getting paychecks." I thought about that for a second. Then it hit me. We were screwed if Tyler lost his job. This was serious. "Tyler? What about you?" He shrugged. "Don't know what the future holds." He worked for the Braves now in player development. His job was to keep track of player progress through the minor leagues. It was a pretty good job and it paid really well. We definitely weren't poor. We had moved to Atlanta in the middle of my freshman year and they had made me a starting player right off the bat. We weren't very good that year but there were a bunch of freshman on the team, so we all learned together and we got better every single year. As seniors, this was going to be our year. Our championship year. Instead, I was having to worry about Tyler being out of a job because there wouldn't be a baseball season at all. I had a couple of beers that night and was kind of tipsy, Tyler was, too. That night, neither of us had any reason not to get rip roaring drunk but the couple of times I had before, I'd regretted it. I'd got real sappy and told Tyler how much I loved him and stuff. I did love him and he knew it but, I don't know, I didn't have to cry to tell him. I was nine when we first hooked up. But that has had to be our secret. Nobody could know. Nobody. Not then, and not now. I mean, my room was for homework and for show. All my stuff was in there so if anybody came over everything appeared normal. There was a kid's room. Even if they marveled at how tidy the teenage boy's room was. Sure, I'd always been a tidy person but the truth was I didn't really spend a lot of time in there. And I always slept in Tyler's bed. Or, I guess, we shared a bed. This one kid knew because he had walked in on us once but he was cool and, as far as I know, he never told anybody. He was gay and he didn't want his family to know so it was sorta like we kept each other's secrets. I don't guess he'd told anybody since we moved. He might not even think about us anymore. He was a cool kid though. He was my best friend. Him and me and another kid named Cooper were the three musketeers. Weird thing is that all three of us smoke the pole. Or at least had. Cooper might have just been experimenting. I was blown away the very first day I met Tyler. He was the sexiest human being in the entire world to me, then and now. Muscular and broad shouldered and hairy chested. He was a man. Scruff on his face. A trail of hair up between his abs. When his pants came off, his powerful, thick hips were to be admired, along with his Adonis belt. But only when his underwear was off and he was rock hard could you see him in his full glory. When he agreed to become my foster dad, it was awesome. Incredible. Like a dream. I was going to get to live with him full time. For the first time in my life I felt loved and wanted. Desired even. But then it got even better. The best day of my life was when he adopted me and made me his for real son. Back then, I was a wiry, skinny hairless boy. I had a small cock and miniature balls. But I grew. Longer, leaner, hairier and bigger down there. I became a broad shouldered, narrow waisted young man. I had abs and an Adonis belt, too. Hair from my crotch up to my belly button and a splash of hair between my ovoid pecs. I shaved three or four times a week. I wasn't a little boy anymore. But through all the growing and maturing, I still loved it when Tyler touched me. I don't think that will ever change. There were plenty of times I stripped off my underwear and tossed them into the washing machine in the alcove in the hallway (Yeah, our washing machine was the clothes hamper. No, we didn't separate coloreds from whites. We're guys. We're good that way.) and went and climbed in bed with him. I was usually close to hard when I did. We didn't always have sex. Sometimes we just cuddled or I'd jack off or he'd give me a handjob. But being next to him was always what I really wanted. Tonight, though, I wanted to do more than cuddle. When I climbed in bed, we kissed immediately. The scruff on his face rubbing against me, reminded me that I was kissing a man. My dick came to life when he rubbed his hand over my lean, hard body. By the time he reached my shaved crotch, I was already hard. I touched him, too, rubbing his body. Hard and hairy and a perfect man. "You're horny," he said. I smiled. "Yeah." "You want me to take care of that?" he asked, his hand wrapped around the base of my cock and balls. I reached down and tugged on his. "You want me to take care of that?" "You know where that's going?" "I do," I answered, And I did. That's what I wanted. We kissed and we rubbed before he went down on me. He worked it with his mouth. I leaned back and just sighed, closing my eyes, enjoying it. He worked me, knowing exactly how I wanted it, needed it. Just the right amount of pressure, the right amount of stroking. It was like he could feel the sensation I felt and anticipated my needs, my desire. What do they say? Familiarity breeds contempt? Not for me; not for him. He licked my shaft and I groaned. He played with my balls. Just right. Not too much. I have sensitive balls. "You gonna cum in my mouth?" "I can," I whimpered. "No, baby boy. This is to make up for a shitty day." "It's a good way, too." I kinda wanted to say that ending the day with him meant it wasn't a shitty day, but that sounded dumb so I didn't. I sucked his dick, too. Of course I did. A lot of times when I got between his legs and got ready to dive into his crotch, his scent would trigger powerful flashbacks. Back to when I was little and first played with his big old thing. I was surprised by how he had that funky odor down there, an odor of damp wet sweat and pheromones and desire. Even the smell of a bit of piss, you know, the drop you don't completely shake off. A funky earthy odor. I remembered that sometimes I would even smell his underwear, his worn ones, just to catch that scent. It was a huge turn on. As I got between his legs and dived in, working underneath his balls to lick his sweaty taint, those memories overpowered me. My cock twitched in excitement as I started working him. Unlike me, he loved to have his balls played with. I rubbed them and sucked on one and then the other, teasing him and taunting him, loving his nuts and leaving his dick alone, even though it was hard and throbbing and needing attention. Impatient, he reached down and stroked himself but I put a hand on his wrist and he backed off. I looked up. "I am the boss of you, remember?" "I take it how you give it, right?" he said. It was an old joke between us from back when we first hooked up. I got up over him and supported myself with my hands in the military press position and slowly lower my body down. As I lowered myself we kissed, my body hovering a millimeter above his before I pushed my crotch, my hard dick, onto his. "That's right, Tyler." I grabbed both of our dicks and stroked them before getting to work worshipping his cock. He got pleasure from me doing it but I got pleasure from doing it to him. I owned that cock. It was mine as surely as if I had a deed to it. When I was little, I had told him I didn't want him to be with anybody but me. It was a selfish little boy thing and I had no idea of the complexities of a sexual relationship at the time. I just knew that I loved him and I wanted him for myself. Me and me only. I was greedy. But I have never taken it back and he has never been unfaithful to me. I own his body as surely as if we were married. I knew how to pleasure him, too. A rough lick. A hard suck. A hand, a mouth. Tugging his balls. And I was well practiced at sucking his dick. It was hard and it was throbbing as I sucked it and stroked it. His balls twitched in excitement. I took him down. I was way past choking and gagging. I could handle it easily. I took him down. All the way. I came off slowly, my tongue working. "Oh fuck, Sam. Suck it." I had sucked it and tasted his salty cream before, lots of times, but tonight it would be going in my ass. In my ass for sure. I just needed him hard and throbbing, hot and horny. Just like I was, as I rubbed my own cock. Stroked it a bit. Taking some pressure off. I was too wound up. I needed it too bad. I sucked his balls, I rubbed him, I stroked his cock. I fed the fire. "You know what I want," I told him. He wanted missionary. Not something we did a lot. Usually I ride him or we do it doggy style. But he pushed me down and I rammed a pillow under my butt to get my ass up. I pulled my legs back into the tuck position, my rosebud gleaming. Ready for that familiar feeling. I was so hard, waiting in anticipation. "Tyler...," I moaned. He mounted me. He drove himself into me. Not fast or slow. Not gentle or rough. My ass was his. He reached down and stroked my hard dick as he moved back and forth inside of me. He knew I liked it. I moaned. I loved this feeling. Being filled with him. It was amazing. He moved in me, stroked me, sending waves of pleasure to my mind. His hand on my cock made me feel alive. "Oh yeah, fuck me, Tyler." He pushed my legs back and he thrust into my ass firmly, good and hard. The way I wanted it. I leaned up. I wanted to see his hard dick going in my ass. His beautiful pole, stiff and hard. The sensation was so intense. His body, his hard and muscular body, tensing and tightening as he moved, the look on his face, the intensity of his eyes as he owned my ass. He stroked me again. It was too much. Too intense. I was bathed in electricity. I moved his hand off. He knew. He knew me and my needs. Harder. Harder, faster. I urged him on. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. I whimpered. I needed it. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to dominate me. Own me. Take me. I wanted to be his. "Fuck me, fuck me." I whispered. He grunted with each stroke. The fullness of it. The motion. God. Could it last forever? Would it last forever? Oh God. I couldn't think, I couldn't move. Fuck me. Fuck me. "Oh fuck," he growled. "Take this dick." I couldn't respond. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat. I could almost smell his odor. He rolled me up and pounded me harder. I went back to my dick, a tug, two. Then no more. I was so close. He was going to fuck the cum out if me. "Uuuhhh," I grunted, right on the edge. Nothing could stop it. Nothing. Fuck me. He pounded me harder and harder. It was savage. I loved it. I needed it. More. I was whimpering. I was crying. So close, so close. More. More. Harder. Harder. "Oh fuck!" I cried out. A huge wad of cum flew out of my dick, hitting me on the chin and the chest. More spurts. A wave of intense, blinding pleasure swept over me. The greatest sensation of all. The thing I longed for. More spurts, then it dribbled out but Tyler wasn't done. He was close too, though. He pounded me more and the pleasure of the orgasm lingered as he tore my ass up. Then finally one more hard stroke and in it went, deep. Twitching. Filling me up. Afterwards, I had to clean up, wiping my jizz off and then his out a bit with some toilet tissue. I went back to bed, naked. I cuddled up next to him. "What about Tara?" He asked. I shrugged. She was my latest girlfriend. See, I may have been selfish and jealous and greedy with Tyler, but he was totally secure in my love for him. Once I hit puberty, he made it clear that I was free to be young and experiment and get my heart broken and all the things any teenager does. I haven't been with any other guys. That would be cheating. My ass was for Tyler only. Just him. But I've been with girls. I've had pussy. Here's the strange thing: I really only liked girls for the sex. I found the female body erotic. But I found the male body that way, too. Girls for sex was great. But for relationships, not so much. That part didn't feel right. It really wasn't fair to them. But I didn't know how I was going to manage my desire and not end up as just another player. I told him that we broke up, which wasn't true. I had broken up with her in my mind but I needed to do it for real. And FaceTime was a shitty way to break up. "How about Willingham?" he asked. That's tougher. Willingham was about twenty miles from where we used to live. It was Division One, but it was Southern Conference, so lower tier. Vanderbilt and Georgia didn't offer me a scholarship. So, I had three options. First, I could go to Georgia and do a walk on. That would mean a full ride if I made the team. It could also mean I was responsible for my whole tuition if I didn't. Second, I could go to Willingham on half scholarship, but it was private and expensive. Or, third, I could go to school in Atlanta and live with Tyler. "Don't let money be the thing that decides it for you," he said. "A scholarship to Willingham and paying full freight at UGA is about the same. Go with your best option." "You trying to get rid of me?" I asked, playfully. I didn't remind him that we weren't sure if he was going to keep his job. "God no." And he wasn't. He loved me. He wanted what was best for me. I didn't start my life lucky. I bounced around foster care. But then I met Tyler. I fell in love with him and he fell in love with me. I fell asleep that night, cuddled up next to him, naked and happy, a very lucky boy, but one with a decision that needed to be made.