Date: Sat, 27 May 2006 20:05:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: tag michaels <tag_m@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Flat Bellied Boy

There is nothing even remotely true about this story as far as it relates
to me or to anyone I know. It's a story. Nothing more, nothing less. It
contains sexual activity between an adult male and a non-adult male so if
that offends you in any way or if the laws in your area state that you
shouldn't be reading beyond this point then the consequences are yours to
bear.

Chapter I

Every time he lifted his shirt it was all I could not to stare. I had
long suspected that he didn't wear anything under the jeans, or shorts,
or whatever outer garment he chose to wear, because they tended to hang
fairly low on his slender body. What I usually saw was an expanse of
tanned flesh that started just above his outtie belly button to a spot
about six inches below it where his lower belly melted into his pants. It
was flat, taut skin and as smooth as the day the five foot seven inch boy
was born. There wasn't a hair anywhere to be seen.

The boy couldn't have had more than a thirty inch waist, his hip bones
prominent enough to keep his pants from falling all the way down. The
lines where his lower belly met the leg area were defined beautifully and
I knew that fully naked, his lower body would have been the perfect
classic V shape, the lower belly and pubic area firm muscled flesh. The
creases appeared to be so defined that I figured that if I was standing
right in front of him and looking down, I'd be able to see right on down
the leg of the boys' pants to his ankles. And oh man did I want to look.

 His prominent hip points weren't the only thing keeping his pants up,
his slender, firm looking ass helped keep them in place as well. Arching
out nicely from his lower back, he didn't have a bubble butt and it
wasn't flat as a board either.

On the other end, his diamond shaped face was as smooth as his belly, not
a hint of lip or chin hair. His cheekbones were high and slightly
pointed, his chin narrower, as was his forehead but he was still young
enough that he retained the softness of early adolescence.  His buzzed
hair was black, was almost always covered by a deep blue cap with the
bill cocked jauntily at about one o'clock to his face, his thick brows
and lashes the same color. His eyes were hazel and went well with the
color of his skin, a sun browned color of light chocolate.

So, how did I happen to come into contact with this cute teenage boy and
be able to see his marvelous tummy and wonder about the other parts?
Well, I lived on a street that had originally been a main thoroughfare in
the mid sized town that I'd moved to. A quiet, tree lined street, homes
had been built there from the late eighteen hundreds and up into the
nineteen fifties. Few had been torn down, rarely were newer ones added,
so it was an eclectic grouping where no style predominated. It remained
primarily residential until the seventies when it became residential
light commercial. That meant small, non obtrusive businesses and so quite
a few of the old homes on the straight four plus mile long stretch became
occupied by doctors, dentists, hair salons, and the like as people moved
into the newer residential areas as they grew at the outer edges of town
and thus enlarging it.

Mine was a three story, five bedroom Queen Anne style home on a double
lot that I had purchased for a song from the estate of two very old
spinster sisters. I'd gotten wind of it through their only living
relative, a gay nephew, who was determined to live in New York city and
not small town America, although my new home town was nearing fifty
thousand people.

Not well cared for, I'd had to put a fair amount of money and even more
sweat, into restoring the large old house into the beauty that it now
was. It had all the classic lines: huge covered porch in a rotunda style
that arched outward from the front of the house and continued around one
side to an open portico and in front of the turret that sat in the other
front corner. The turret was three stories high, its top adding to other
odd style projections on the second and third floor while the first floor
contained bay windows. Overall the house had more fireplaces than the
average home has rooms. The incredibly steep pitch and uneven design had
made the roof re-slating project a nightmare.

Inside, the walls and floors were done in tons of dark wood that
literally shined after its rejuvenation. Mantles, doorways and ceilings
had plenty or ornately carved facades as did the two stairs that led to
the second floor and third floor, the servant's stairway at the back of
the house being quite plain by comparison.  I'd had to remodel and update
the kitchen so used an Aga four oven cooker and companion range as much
for the period looking designs as the superb quality of Aga products. Of
course that meant I had six fucking ovens but they were well worth it.
The other appliances were Wolf sub-zero and installed with faces that
matched the kitchen cabinetry.  The master bathroom was similarly
remodeled with modern but period styles while the other three were kept
original, except the actual plumbing.

Interestingly enough the house had come fully furnished which turned out
to be a treasure chest worth over three million dollars. Who'd have
guessed? Needless to say I didn't even consider letting the nephew know,
even if I'd known where to find him.

Anyhow, the boy. The boy's name was Mason and he was fourteen going on
fifteen. He was sort of a rebel child, a risk taker and rule breaker; not
the kind of boy I would normally have been interested in but as it turned
out he really wasn't all that comfortable in the pseudo bad boy persona
that he projected.

Although I adored teenaged boys I wasn't the kind of guy whose belief
was; a boy is a boy is a boy and any boy will do; no, no. Don't get me
wrong, I liked them all and enjoyed being around most of them but I
tended toward more gentle boys whose past times might be more music or
literature oriented; a more trouble free type of adolescent although I
don't mean feminine by any means at all. Although I was an author and
screenwriter by trade and gay by nature, I wasn't feminine in the least
but I wasn't a rough tough red neck type either. More like Marty's father
at the end of Back to the Future, not the beginning.  After moving into
the house and getting more acquainted with the slightly rougher genre of
boys; I found myself rather liking them.

So, the property next to me, also two lots wide, had been turned into a
used car lot that had done business there for fifteen or so years until
the city built a four lane, strictly commercial, street that crossed
town. Of course the used car guy moved to where the traffic was, so to
speak.  A small, one bedroom house sat at the very back of the lot and
had served as the office, the entire rest of the lot had been
blacktopped.  Due to the lack of traffic on the street and the small,
aged condition of the house, the place had remained empty and unused for
four years. When the business moved they left a couple of heavy ramps
that they had used to run cars up on to display them, along with a wooden
porch sort of affair that had step going up both sides of it. Needless to
say, the place was like bait for boys on skateboards and roller blades
and they seemed to flock to the lot.

I tended to hang out over there partially because of the boys of course
but also because I like to let my dog out to run. With all the gardens
and things in my yard I tended to keep him kenneled when he wasn't in the
house. Over on the black top he could run his little ass off without
obstruction. Of course the boys all loved him and got a kick out of
watching him go through his paces.

Pepper was sort of a mutt dog that I'd gotten at the animal shelter. When
I first saw him he was barking his little butt off, wagging his little
tail and honestly, all he was really was a little golden ball of fur with
two dark eyes. He was so fucking cute that I fell in love instantly. He
was only about six weeks old so I became his parent and it was very clear
that he adored me. Pepper was smart as all hell too. I ended up training
him myself and he could a whole slew of tricks, responding to both verbal
and hand commands. Only about knee height and thirty pounds in adulthood,
he'd retained his long golden hair so still looked like a puppy.

The first time I'd met Mason was on a Wednesday morning when he should
have been in school but wasn't. It was none of my business so I didn't
ask. I was throwing the Frisbee for Pep who would do the run, leap in the
air, catch and return it trick. The boy went about doing his skateboard
stuff stopping from time to time to watch Pepper and I practice doing
things. From time to time he'd pull his t-shirt up and wipe his face or
forehead, and thus the tummy exposure. The ramp was set up in a way that
when he came off of it he rolled close to where the dog and I were and
when he came to a stop was when he did the sweat wipe thing.

Sometimes, like boys tend to do, he just pulled the thing up as though
cooling his body or he'd run a hand up underneath to satisfy an itch or
whatever. It was that move that he'd done, the holding the shirt up
thing, when he stopped and talked to me.

"Pretty smart dog huh? He said as he approached me, the shirt tail just
at his belly button as his hand seemed to rub against his upper rib cage
on the opposite side of his body. That first, close up glimpse of him,
the expanse of flat tanned boy belly and deep creases narrowing toward
each other before sliding gently into the waistband of his jeans made my
heart leap. I guess maybe part of the attraction is that I've never had a
body like that, always been more on the stocky side, but no matter the
reason, I loved that sight, that flat well defined lower stomach and
pubic area of a boy.

"Can I pet her, him, whatever?" The boy's voice was dancing between
puberty and adulthood where it was starting to deepen which meant that
given an opportunity he could probably still hit high notes when he
laughed or screamed or something.

"Him, sure he loves people." Pepper was returning with the Frisbee so the
boy squatted down to greet the dog more on Pepper's level. Facing away
from me, he gave up about an inch of butt crack and being almost next to
the boy, of course I looked down. Like my view of the front, it was only
flesh and faded blue jeans, not a hint of an underwear line. Of course he
could have been wearing tiny bikini briefs but none that I could see.

"Oh you're a cute boy," he said as he rubbed the sides of Pepper's head.
"What's his name?" I told him and he commented that seemed odd since
pepper was black and I explained white pepper to him. "Ahhh," he
responded.

"Pepper sit." I commanded and the dog obeyed immediately.

"What's your name," I asked the boy and he told me.

"Pep, say hello to Mason." The dog barked once.

"Shake," and Pepper lifted a paw for the boy to take, which he did,
causing Mason to laugh, a pleasant rather high sound.

"Wow," he said, standing up, Pepper remaining in a sitting position until
I released him. "What else can he do?" Oh hell there was a ton of things
the dog could do.

"Put your board down." He did as I asked, Pepper watching intently,
knowing what would be expected of him. I gave the board a gentle push
with my foot and immediately said to my dog,

"Pepper, board."  The dog move rapidly, jumped on the slowly moving board
and balanced himself as it picked up a little speed. I let him ride for
about five feet then called out for him to heel. He jumped off forward of
the board, his movement stopping its forward motion and actually pushing
it backwards toward us slightly. Pepper was at my left side in a sitting
position immediately.

"Fucking awesome," Mason said, the tone of his young voice clearly
indicating his sincerity. Straight white teeth contrasted against his
tanned face. "How did you teach him to do that?" I explained the process,
getting the dog to lie on the board first, then moving it slowly. The
next step was to get him to sit on the board, then move it slowly,
eventually graduating to standing on the board, then moving it slowly. It
was six distinct and separate steps.  There was more to it but those were
the basics. From there it was only a matter of getting him to jump onto
it.

"I'm Jonathon, Jon, by the way," I said, extending my hand, which he
took, shaking it somewhere in between gently and firmly. We talked a
little while longer, mostly about Pepper and his tricks then the boy
asked if there was a store close by.

"There's an Arco gas station and convenience store about seven blocks
that way," I said, pointing in the opposite direction from where I'd seen
him come from."

"It's hot out," he said, stating the obvious, "I really need to get
something to drink."

"Well," I jumped in quickly, "you're welcome to come over to my place and
have ice water or a Coke or something," I said, nodding toward the seven
foot tall red brick wall that separated my property from the one we were
standing on.

The entire property was surrounded by a brick wall that had originally
only been about four feet high and topped with another three feet of
black wrought iron spikes and railings.  When the car lot went in the
spinster sisters had the wall on that side extended to what it now was
and as long as they were at it they did the same for the back wall.
Mason seemed to mull my offer over for about ten seconds then nodded his
head,

"Okay, cool." We headed toward the street, hooked right and walked along
my fence line to the locked wrought iron gate at the center of the
property. I found out that Mason was a recent transplant to the area,
having moved across country from Visalia California to live with his
father's mother in a small house about four blocks from mine. His was one
of the situations where his biological father had been killed, mom was
totally involved with a new husband who had a couple of little kids and
none of the three newcomers seemed to get along with Mason.

"Yeah, well," I said as I opened the front door of my home, "been there,
done that, and got the t-shirt." I managed to tell him that I'd grown up
under very similar circumstances but once inside the house any discussion
other than the house was about impossible.

We stood in the large foyer, highly polished wood dominating the view. To
the left was the turret, or tower where a curved staircase began, went up
four steps to a sitting area, then continued against the far wall and
curved gently up over our heads to the second and then third floors. To
the right, through arched double doors was the living room while straight
ahead would lead eventually to a bathroom the kitchen, dining room,
utility room etc. Off to the left another door led to a book and art
lined library slash study.

"This is a pretty fucking dope house," the boy said, looking around him.
That it was. We headed straight, wending our way to the kitchen where I
asked him what he would like to drink; Coke if I had it water if I
didn't. I had Coke, that is, I gave him one while I had ice water.  He
did it again as I turned to set the overly chilled can on the counter
while I found an insulated holder for it. His hand up under his shirt
rubbing and a spot on his rib cage about level with a nipple, the expanse
of his belly exposed. I really wanted to put my mouth there, to nuzzle
and lick the smooth brown skin.

I had tended toward a celibate life during the two years I'd been in
town, taking three to five day trips every couple of months back to the
city I'd moved from and hooking up with old acquaintances for sexual
release. I still owned a condo there and, not wishing to brag, I knew
more than one boy that was eager to jump into my bed for old times sake.

It turned out that Mason was fourteen, would turn fifteen over the
summer, and since it was late in the year he wouldn't be enrolled in
school until September which explained his being where he was on a school
day.
We talked a little longer before Mason asked if he could use a bathroom
so I showed him the small half bath off of the utility room. To my
surprise the boy didn't close the bathroom door but stood with his side
to me. I went about pulling some clothes out of the dryer and dumping
them on a table to fold them and since the table was against a wall in
front of the bathroom door I heard the sound of his thick, full stream as
it hit the water and glancing sideways had almost a full on view of the
boy's side, basically only his cock wasn't visible.

"So do you live here all by yourself Jon?" he asked as he pissed. I
glanced over at him, less than ten feet away as I answered the question.

"Yup, I sure do."

"Must get lonely sometimes," he said as the toiled flushed. I turned my
head saying,

"Yeah, it does sometimes but I don't mind the solitude." He was coming
out of the bathroom, his t-shirt held up out of the way by his chin while
he was zipping his jeans, the top button still undone. He gave me a brief
shot of black pubic hair before the zipper closed and he snapped his
jeans.

"I'm like that too sometimes," he said as he rubbed his chest and
continued to give up the view of his stomach. Goddamn the boy was cute.
"People sort of piss me off a lot so I tend to be more of a loner. I
guess that makes us sort of alike huh?" I nodded my head. Indeed it did.

"Well I spose I should get going. My gramma gets all worried when I'm
gone for very long." I nodded my head, said I understood, and walked him
to the front door where he thanked me for the Coke.

"So maybe I'll see you later today or tomorrow," he said. I told him that
I hoped so; that he seemed like a nice kid, said he was welcome any time
since it sounded like we could both use the company. He laughed, thanked
me and left and I went upstairs to my bedroom and jacked off, fantasizing
about what he might look like undressed and what we might do if I could
manage to get him undressed.

Chapter II

I saw Mason every day over the next few days; by day four he was knocking
on my front door and by day seven he was showing up by ten in the morning
and spending the day with me. I learned a lot about him during that week
and he about me, including the fact that I was gay.

How that had happened was that we had been in my bedroom and used my
bathroom which has a number of old photographs of men and boy's taking a
piss, kind of like the men's room at Buca De Beppo. In most of them you
can't really see anything but you know what they're doing; in some you
get a little bit of a butt shot and there a couple of little boys fully
naked butts. There were a few full frontal nudes of classic Greek and
Roman statuary as well. Hanging on the wall above my Jacuzzi style
bathtub was a drawing of a boy about twelve or thirteen with his foot in
a tub of water as though he's testing it. He's looking toward the viewer
as though someone called his name and it's clear to see that he has
hardly any pubic hair but his cock and his balls are quite large for a
boy of his obvious age. Since my toilet is at the back of the very large
bathroom and dressing area, Mason couldn't miss it as he walked by.

I was in the dressing room area putting clothes away, which was the
reason we had ended up in my bedroom, when he came toward me out of the
bathroom. As he had done on a few occasions before he was in the middle
of buttoning up and once again I got a bit of a fuzz shot along with his
magnificent torso.

"Interesting bathroom Jon," he said, his voice sounding a little
different because he still had his t-shirt help up out of place by his
chin. I smile and said thanks that I had gotten quite a few compliments
on it.

"What's with that drawing of the boy by your bathtub?" I explained that
there were a series of prints as well of some statuary that had been done
of the same boy and were titled the "Boy" series which prompted the
question "was it true, was the boy real." I told him that I knew someone
who knew someone else who actually knew the boy who was by then seventeen
or eighteen but had posed when he was thirteen.

"Wow," he said, paused then said, "pretty big dick for such a young boy."
I nodded my head. It went without saying.

"If the statue and prints that I own are accurate, then the boy was quite
well endowed, pushing seven or eight inches and that was at thirteen."

"You have more stuff of him?" Mason asked. I nodded my head, said sure,
and come on. He followed me to where my bed was and on a wall sort of out
of sight was a pen and ink drawing of the boy, just gotten out of bed and
stretching, the clock on the wall reading six forty five.  The sun rising
in a window behind the boy along with the boy's disheveled hair lent
credence to the early morning idea as did his half hard cock.

A second drawing was of the same boy laying on the bed, one arm across
his eyes as if in sleep. He's fully naked and full on hard, his big cock
stretching past his belly button, smooth hairless balls hanging between
slightly spread legs, one crooked up at the knee.

"Jeez" Mason said as he stepped up for a closer look at the second
drawing, "the boy is huge." I was standing behind and off to one side of
the young teen and detected a slight movement of his hand that may have
been a re-shuffling of his boy parts.

"Then there's this one," I said, stepping away from my bed and heading
toward the sitting area where I showed him a statue of two naked boys,
one sitting on the other one's lap facing each other.

"That's really cool," Mason said as he looked it over and while he did
that I looked him over and it was clear that the cute young teen had been
stimulated by the experience, the bulge at the front of his loosing
fitting jeans quite noticeable.  I told him to pick it up and turn it
over, and when he did I thought the boy was going to faint.

"He's got a cock up his ass, the other boy is fucking him!" Indeed he did
and indeed he was.

"As the story goes the other boy was David's first boyfriend and this was
David losing his virginity."

"Fuck" Mason said in a whisper as he looked the statue over and as soon
as he set it down his hand went straight to his cock. "I can't believe I
got a boner from lookin at this stuff," he said as he readjusted himself
unselfconsciously.

"Yeah well, don't worry about it too much Mason; at your age almost
anything causes a boy to get hard. You're more than welcome to use my
bathroom to take care of it if you'd like."

"Are you serious?" he asked. I nodded my head.

"Sure, why not. It would be a normal response to ." and I nodded my head
toward his cock. "No big deal." He seemed to give that some thought
before answering.

"Can I ask you a question Jon?" he asked and I nodded my head, knowing
full well what was coming. "Well, I mean, are you gay or something? I
mean, with these statues and stuff and you already told me you never been
married. It's okay, I mean, I don't care, I was just wonderin." It all
came out in a rush as though he'd been holding it in for some time.

"It's okay to ask questions Mason and yes, I'm gay." He nodded his head
then said if I didn't mind he would like to use the bathroom. I told him
to go ahead and I'd be waiting out on the balcony when he was finished.
Needless to say it didn't take very long, about five minutes from the
time he left until he joined me outside where I was sitting. I was
tempted to ask if he felt better but decided not too choosing instead to
ask if he wanted to go downstairs and get something to drink. He did, so
we did.

Mason didn't ask any more questions about my being gay and we went on to
chat about other things. After he left I didn't see him for a couple of
days and assumed that, despite his "not caring" if I was gay, in fact he
did care. He showed up on the third day, limping.

When I asked what happened he pulled his shirt up to reveal a hell of a
road rash that extended from his hip downward into his jeans and what I
could see was welling with blood.

"I just scratched coming down the hill from my house," he said wincing.
When I asked how far down it went he said he didn't know but indicated at
least five inches more were currently covered by his jeans.

"You should put something on that Mason. You want me to drive you back
home?" he shook his head.

"No, my grandmother would freak out. Do you have anything here Jon?" Hell
I had an entire medical emergency kit. I nodded my head and told him to
follow me and we headed out to the laundry room where I kept a two tiered
fishing tackle box filled with almost anything you'd need in a household
emergency. I set it on the utility table, opened it and told him
everything he needed was in there and to use what ever he wanted.

"Aren't you going to help me Jon? I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
Please."

"Okay, I can do that but you're gonna have to drop your pants Mason." He
nodded his head,

"Yeah, I know. It's okay, I gotta do it. Not like you're gonna go after
my dick or anything and I bet you've probably seen plenty so I doubt
mine's anything special." Looking down toward his inured area he
unsnapped, unzipped and gingerly pulled the fabric down over the damaged
area and gave me my first glimpse of all that made him boy.  He was
standing sideways to me so I immediately dropped to one knee to get a
closer look at the damage, and everything else since it was right there
in front of me.

The thick tube of his cock was pressed flat against his balls from the
weight of his jeans, the head  hidden beneath his foreskin and extending
past the smooth, almost hair free bag of balls that hung somewhat low
between his smooth thighs. His pubic hair was a thick nest of black curls
that had begun encroachment onto the beginning of sac, sprouting out from
beneath the base of his cock.

"That's a nasty rash Mason, I should put some disinfectant on it before I
bandage it." He was looking down at it, then at me and nodded his head. I
stood, fished out an alcohol swap packet, opened it and as gently as
possible dabbed at the worst of the rash, causing Mason to wince.

"I know," I cooed to him. That done I pulled out the gauze, anti
bacterial cr^Ême and tape, measured out the size of gauze I'd need, spread
the cr^Ême on it then gently pressed it into the rash. A few minutes of
taping, which allowed me to touch and feel the smooth warmth of his firm
young skin and he was done. I'd wished that I had an excuse to linger and
look longer but I just didn't have one. Mason gave me one.

"Do I look okay Jon?" he asked. Misinterpreting the question I told him
he'd be fine, sore for a couple of days but he'd heal okay.

"No. I mean, down there," he said nodding his head at his boy parts. "Do
I look okay." He had continued to hold his t-shirt up, almost to his
nipples, so I stood for a moment and stared. He was ten times more than
okay he was fucking beautiful. I reached for his hand which was also
scratched up and as I went about cleaning it up I said,

"I'm no expert Mason but off hand I'd say that you're more than okay. You
have a terrific body and that," I said nodding to his dick, "looks more
than adequate to any job required of it."  He seemed to beam at the
praise then let go of his shirt and bent to pull his jeans up while I
went about putting everything back into my med kit.

"I never seen another boy's stuff, or a man's or anything so I didn't
know. I figured if you're gay then you probly have seen other guys so
would know, ya know?" I was a little astounded at Mason's revelation. It
was most likely a rarity this day in age for kids of almost any age not
to have seen nudity in one form or another.

"Well, at the risk of sounding clich^Â I have to say, it was my pleasure
Mason." He laughed, a wonderful and rather light sound, the act making
his eyes twinkle. He had a really nice smile.

He was back at my home the next day, right on schedule and I asked how
the wound was doing. He said it was fine but that because of it he hadn't
been able to take a shower. Further discussion told me that his
grandmother didn't have a shower in her home, only a tub.

"You're welcome to take a shower here Mason then I can do a re bandage.
My shower has a detachable nozzle too so you can direct water away from
the wound and still get cleaned.

"That would be great. Are you sure?" I nodded my head and said I was very
sure. Less than five minutes later I had the med kit opened in my
dressing area and before I could tell the boy that I would wait in my
sitting area until he was finished, he'd unsnapped his jeans and let them
fall to the ground and peeled his t-shirt off. I must have had a
surprised look on my face because he commented.

"Well, what the fuck, you've seen me practically naked and you're gonna
see me naked again after the shower so ." he let the sentence trail off.
He was right, and I was glad. Fully naked the boy was a frickin dream.
His chest was as nicely defined as his lower abdomen, a nice clear crease
separating them with some definition beneath them. The breast bone crease
extended all the way down to his abs and from there his torso gently
sloped down to his boyhood charms. And oh man were they charming.

I peeled the tape from his flesh, the fact that his beautiful young cock
was less than a foot away from my face, more than a little distracting. I
suspected that the moment was not lost on Mason either as the thing
seemed to stretch out just a little bit, he tip of the head poking out
from underneath its fleshy little hat, lifting itself from its mashed
position against his balls, the smooth sperm makers hanging fairly low.

"There ya go, you know where the shower's at, help yourself to whatever
you need." I watched his slender little butt as he walked away from me,
felt my cock twitch in response. Fuck that kid was hot and boy would I
have some mental jack off material for later. I got out the requisite
bandaging items, set everything on the bathroom counter by the sink, then
sat in my dressing room chair and waited. My shower area is really
nothing more than a small tiled room with no door so I could have gone
back to peek at the boy, using the toilet as an excuse to be back there
but I didn't. I wasn't that crass.

Almost ten minutes later the water finally stopped and Mason popped his
head around the corner and asked for a towel. Shit, how could I have
forgotten that part. I jumped up, snagged a fresh bath towel and took it
to him, mumbling an apology. He smiled and said it was okay.  I went to
where I had the stuff laid out and waited, trying not to stare at the
young beauty as he went about his drying exercise.

Finished, he draped the towel across his shoulders and walked toward me,
his thick cock swinging with the motion, the warm water having caused it
to stretch out to its full softened length, the foreskin partially
retracted so that the entire tip of his cock head was visible. I couldn't
help but smile a little and of course Mason saw it and of course he
asked.

"Remember when you asked me yesterday if you were okay?" He nodded his
head. "Well you're better than okay, you're a fucking God." I knelt next
to him and took the end of the towel and gently pressed it against rash
making sure it was dry. I then placed the gauze against the rash, the
antibacterial cr^Ême holding it in place long enough for me to get it
taped.

"Noooo, now you're messin with me," he said but I could tell by his voice
that he was pleased. I went about slowly getting the gauze taped into
place and didn't say anything so he did.

"Did you really mean that Jon. Do you think I'm that uummm hot or cute or
whatever?"

"I do." I stood up, looked him in the eye and said it again then went
about cleaning up the med kit stuff. When he came up to me, I assumed to
put his clothes back on, I turned to face him and my eyes were drawn down
immediately. I'd forgotten how fast a teenage boy can respond to a
charged situation. I'd also forgotten that almost anything could be a
charged situation to a boy. His cock was on the rise, sticking almost
straight out from his body, the perfect helmet shaped head seeming to
swell and help push his foreskin back.

"Is this a stick up" I said with a smile, moving back a step with my
hands in the air.

"I can't seem to help it Jon," he whispered, "it's like it has a mind of
its own." There isn't a male over the age of twelve who doesn't know that
one so I nodded my head in understanding. In that few short seconds his
cock had risen even further, pointing toward my chest and stretching out
to at least seven inches of moderately thick boy cock, his sperm makers
hanging low in the smooth, stretched out skin of his bag.

"You're a pretty big boy," I commented as I watched his cock climb to its
zenith, the head exposed back to the very rim then fully exposed as the
skin slipped of off it and onto the shaft. God did I want that thing in
my mouth. I took a plunge.

"Do you want to do something about that?" I asked, again nodding my head
in the direction of his smaller one. He showed me his hand which was
still scratched up from his fall from the day before.

"Umm I hate to ask but could you?" Oh sure he hated to ask. Unhuh. On the
other hand, as it were, I was more than willing to help the boy out so
nodded my head, my own smaller head growing in my pants at the prospect
of boy handling him. I stepped up to him and turned him around to face
the large mirror at the back of my sink counter. I moved up behind him
and put an arm up under his and then across his chest, holding him. My
free hand did the same thing on the other side but slowly slid downward
until I hit his fuzz.

Mason closed his eyes and relaxed against me and I knew that it would
have been impossible for the boy not to feel my own hard cock pressed
against his tight little butt. I opened my hand and grasped onto his
shaft about midway between hair and head and squeezed. Mason gasped at my
touch, his body stiffened for a brief moment then relaxed back against me
again, pushing his butt back against my cock.

I watched us in the mirror, my hand moving on the boy's rock hard young
cock, his head rested back against my shoulder and slightly touching the
side of my head. I watched as his balls moved up and down while I stroked
him and could almost hear the sperm churning around inside the egg like
orbs, queuing up for their release. His arms had come up and were holding
mine loosely against his firm chest. If everything he'd told me was true
then no one had ever touched the boy, I was his first, and if that were
the case he wouldn't be able to stave off his orgasm very long. He
didn't.

"Oh fuck," he moaned and opened his eyes as I felt his cock thicken in my
hand and then erupt. For just a brief instant it looked like a long white
string was attached to the end of his cock then it detached and flew out
to land on my countertop, a four inch long streak of white against the
gray top. I jacked him a little faster, gripping him tighter as his cock
continued to spurt out long stringy strands of cum. My fingers found his
nipple and tweaked and pinched it lightly causing even more moans and
groans from the boy whose eyes had remained open, well sort of open.
Actually they were over half closed as his body was taken over by the
throes of his orgasm, said to be the most intense pleasurable feelings
that humans can feel.

Six full spurts later his body slowed to a dribble, the warm liquid
oozing down over my fingers as I continued to slowly stroke him, milking
every last drop of nectar that his young balls had to offer. His body was
still relaxed against mine and my rigid cock was still pushed against his
tight little butt, and his chest continued to rise and fall with his
heavy breathing.

I leg go of his cock, reluctantly, and reached for a hand towel on the
wall and managed to wipe my spermy fingers off, resisting the urge to use
my tongue instead. I continued to look at us in the mirror, the golden
skinned boy, eyes closed, being held in my arm. His cock didn't appear to
be diminishing too awfully much and was still standing proudly, the tip
of swollen head shiny from his cum. For the hundredth time I admired the
smooth flat expanse of his torso, and as I'd predicted, from his waist
down was indeed, a classic V culminating in all that made him a boy. And
what a boy.

"That. Was. Fucking. Intense." He finally whispered before opening his
eyes. "God I could just stay here like this forever." He added and smiled
at me in the mirror. Then he wiggled his butt a little bit against me.
"You're hard as a rock Jon. I guess this was sort of fun for you too."

Yeah, that would be an understatement, I thought to myself.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked then went on without waiting for an
answer. "It was kinda hot, feeling you behind me and all hard and stuff.
It made this more.. intense or sexy or whatever." He paused for a moment
and started to take control of his body, moving slowly to get out of my
half embrace. I pulled my arm back and stepped back and Mason turned to
look at me, first at the bulge at the front of my jean shorts then my
eyes.

"Are you gonna cum too Jon, are you gonna like, jack off?" I'd thought
about it but wasn't sure just how Mason would respond to that. Many
straight boys engage in the sort of activity that we just had and as soon
as the orgasm is over they want to put distance between themselves and
the act, generally getting dressed as quickly as possible and then often
engaging in some sort of activity that reinforces their masculinity.

"Well, I am a little . excited. Did you want me to cum, to jack off?" He
nodded his head.

"Well if you need too. I know how I would be and I'd sure want to cum if
only to make my cock go soft again."

"So, do you want to watch, is that what you're saying?" Mason paused but
only for a second.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I never seen anyone else do it before." I
didn't bother to say anything but unsnapped my jeans and dropped the
zipper and with nothing else to hold them in place they fell to the
floor. I stood there in my white boxer briefs, my stone hard cock
pressing against the soft tight fabric, a wet spot at the head of my dick
clearly confirming my arousal as though the long hard tube wasn't enough.
I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pulled it out then down and Mason
watched attentively as seven and half inches of swollen adult male cock
bounded out to greet him. His eyes opened wide.

I pushed the fabric to a spot just beneath my balls, held my shirt up out
of the way and took hold of my cock and began the ritual. Jacking off in
front of a mirror, watching the action, was one of those things that most
males do from time to time. Having a cute young teenage boy with a nice
sized and fully engorged cock standing next to me heightened the
experience ten fold for me.

"Want me to do anything?" Mason asked.

"Yeah, grab that moisturizer over there," I said, nodding my head to a
bottle that was out of my reach. Mason did as I requested then I directed
him to pour some on my cock head, which he did. I went back to slowly
stroking, sliding my slippery hand up over my own swollen head, squeezing
as I did it.

"God that looks so hot," Mason said. He had taken hold of his own still
hard cock and was stroking it slowly as he watched me. I stopped and
pulled my t-shirt off then shoved my underwear to the floor and stepped
out of them so that except for the socks I was as naked as the cute young
teen next to me.

"Can I use some of that stuff too Jon?" he asked me and when I nodded my
head he took it, poured a liberally amount on his cock and resumed
stroking it lovingly, as all boys learn to do early in life. We stood
with our bodies touching and I reached over and put my hand on the boy's
delicious butt and rubbed up and down on it. Mason smiled at my touch,
giving me permission to continue and I did as we both watched the action
in the mirror, me watching his cock more than my own and Mason doing the
same, watching me.

Since we were both right handed and Mason couldn't reach over and touch
me, not that he would have necessarily, so he used his other hand to
gently manipulate his balls, alternately between tugging on them and
squeezing them. I had to stop and re-moisturize my dick, my skin
absorbing the liquid as it was supposed to do.

We stroked on for a good three minutes, two males caught up in a
centuries old ritual, sharing a most intimate moment with each other.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum again," Mason groaned as he picked up speed. He
pulled hard on his balls, tugging them down and holding them there and
thus pulling the skin tighter on his hard fourteen year old cock. I could
feel my own balls getting ready to push forth the little wigglies of life
and watched, almost mesmerized as Mason's face contorted in the look of
pain and pleasure and his cock erupted for the second time in ten
minutes. His sperm shot out a little differently the second time,
twirling like a bolo to land on the counter but off to the side instead
of in front of him. The next few shots were truer and landed amongst the
cooling puddles of his previous sperming, more individual droplets this
time than the longer streaks of his first orgasm. Watching him, knowing
the intensity of the feelings he was experiencing helped take me over the
top.

"Here it is, Mason, I'm gonna cum," I groaned and my cock erupted in a
torrent of sperm. I stroked faster as though encouraging my body to break
some kind of distance record and as it was the first jet hit the mirror
at the back of the counter. Seven more jets of cum left a trail from
where I stood to where the first shot had landed looking like white claw
marks against the counter top.

"Fucking awesome," Mason said as he slowed his own stroking and watched
my ejaculation. My cock finally slowed to as oozing, just as Mason's had
and we both stood there panting, our hands moving slowly as though
reluctant to leave our cocks in the hope that another orgasm might
miraculously appear, knowing that it wouldn't.

"Yeah," I responded in a panting breath, "It was." Indeed it had been. I
wasn't a novice to the world of sex by any means but until that point in
my thirty three year old life I had never done what Mason and I had just
done, jacked off a boy in front of a mirror then jacked myself off while
the boy brought himself off a second time. Yeah, it had been fucking
awesome.

I let go of my dick, reluctantly took my hand off of Mason's ass, took
the hand towel off the wall and wiped my hand off then handed the towel
to the boy who did the same thing. Once he was finished I cleaned our
sperm from the counter top as well as the wall, Mason commenting on the
latter as I cleaned.

"That was a pretty long shot Jon, do you always shoot so far?" I shook my
head and said that I hadn't cum for a few days so the pressure was sort
of built up. He nodded his head in understanding.

"It was hot having you rub my butt while we did it. I mean the whole
thing was pretty hot but, I dunno, I sort of liked having your hand on me
like that. I liked being in your arm when you did me the first time too."
He stopped for a moment then went on,

"I guess the whole thing was pretty hot and sexy for me Jon. Does that
make me gay or something?"  Clearly the boy needed or wanted to talk.

"Well first of all, do you want something to drink? I'm kinda thirsty. He
nodded his head and I started from the room, not bothering to get dressed
which Mason commented on.

"Well, I tend to wander around my house naked a lot. Have you ever done
that?" He nodded his head saying that he had but didn't get the chance to
very often, although he sort of liked it too.

"Well then," I said and headed out of the room with Mason on my heels.

I went toward the back of the house intending to use the smaller servants
stairway, explaining to the boy along the way that what we had just done
together didn't indicate anything at all about sexuality. Boys
experimented; it was as simple as that.

"A stiff dick has no conscience" I said and he laughed. I went on to say
that half of the boys in the world experimented with other boys all the
way up to and including actual intercourse and that was considered a
normal behavior. They didn't generally talk about it because of course
that would be gay but they did it none the less and had a good time. Sure
some boys might be gay or bi but most definitely not most of them.

"It's all about the cues," I said as I pulled two Cokes from the fridge
and handed him one then headed out to sit on the veranda overlooking the
backyard.  We all learn our own cues, for some it's tits and ass and
other's it's a firm muscular chest and a cock or long dark hair or a
hairy body. It's all internal and not some kind of conscious decision
like picking out a pair of shoes. It just happened.

Mason was quiet while I spoke, listening intently to what I had to say,
his cock finally returning to its default state, resting against his
balls with the tip of the head barely peeking through his foreskin. He
remained quiet for a moment after I'd finished, seeming to mull over what
I'd said. Then he spoke, as though he were remembering things, looking
outside and not at me.

"Part of the problem with my mom's new husband was that he thought I was
gay. There was a boy who lived next door to us that I'd had known for
like, four or five years. We were friends, he was a nice kid, there
weren't a lot of kids our age close by. We never did anything together, I
mean sex. We had never even seen each other's dick or anything. Thing was
he was gay, or at least he acted that way, the femmy sort of boy, when he
got to be a teenager. So naturally Dick the prick thought we were doing
things together. After my mom started seeing Dick I spent more time with
Harold because Dick acted like an asshole to me from the start. Sometimes
Harold would touch me, like on the arm or the shoulder or something when
we were talking and he was like, making a point. I always got a little
jolt from it. I liked it when he touched me. After a while I started
like, wondering what it would be like to be with him, have sex with him.
I even jacked off thinking about doing stuff with him."

"One night after Dick had been on me about all kinds of stuff I'd gone
out to our back yard and Harold was coming in from taking out the trash.
Since there was no fence or anything we ended talking and I was so
frustrated that I started crying. Harold took me in his arms and held me,
patting my back like he was the parent and I was a little kid. There
wasn't anything at all sexy about it. Of course Dick just happened to
come out back looking for me and saw us like that, hugging in the almost
dark in Harold's back yard. He didn't say anything, we didn't know he was
there or saw us. I'd talked about running away and Harold told me not too
that it wouldn't solve anything and where would I go and all that stuff.
He said he'd ask his parents if maybe I could stay with them for awhile
and would I like that."

"I finally went back in the house an hour or so later. Dick was so pissed
he could hardly speak. He called me a fag said he didn't want his son to
catch it from me or have me molest his precious little Eddie so I was
going to live with my grandmother and that was that. My mom was sort of
weird about it, like she knew it was wrong but couldn't do anything about
it but glad in a way that I would be gone so she could go on with her
perfect little new family."

Mason finally looked at me. "So that's why I'm here. Sometimes I think I
might be gay Jon.  Sometimes when I jack off I think about guys." His
voice dropped lower and he said, "I've even jacked off thinking about
being with you." I wanted to go to the boy, gather him up in my arms,
take him to my bed and just hold him. Nothing sexual; just comforting.
We were both quiet for a moment the I said,

"Would that be okay with you Mason, if you were gay I mean, or would it
be some horrible thing that makes you not want to live or something
equally disastrous?" He smiled at my intended attempt at slight levity.
He shook his head.

"No, it's not like that. Just that I'm so confused I guess."

"Yeah well, welcome to adolescence," I told him and he smiled.

"Yeah."