Date: Sun, 08 Jan 2017 17:44:01 -0500 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: Hungry for Love: The Favor I tossed the bones from the supermarket fried chicken in the trash, and looked at the time on my phone. I'd promised to give Tara a ride to her youth center for some event or other, and when I'd seen her earlier at the office, it had been clear that she didn't want to be late. "I have to be there at 7:30, are you sure?" she asked more than once that afternoon. She'd had plenty of opportunity, since we sat at two of the three desks in the converted attic room. The empty one was normally occupied by her mother, who had taken a half day off for a doctor's appointment, which I assumed was why the girl had asked me for a lift in the first place. Tara's mom, Marybeth, had gotten her teenage daughter an internship at the law office we both worked at, and the girl had been mostly useful since she'd started at the beginning of summer. A month later, she felt comfortable enough with me to ask me for a ride to the youth center, and to remind me about the details so frequently that I was beginning to regret the decision. It was just about seven, so I texted her that I was on my way. Ten minutes to her house, fifteen to center, five minutes to spare: perfect. When I pulled into her driveway, she was watching from the door so she was practically in the car before I put it into park. "Thank you so much!" she cried, flinging her bag into the back seat and her body into the front and practically into my lap as she tried to hug me with the same motion. "Whoa, there!" I said. "Let's not make the boys jealous!" She laughed, and settled into her seat belt as we pulled away from the curb. "Not likely," she said. "None of the boys there look at me like that." Thinking that this was one of those teachable moments I've read about, I replied, "You know, boys don't always do what you'd expect them to when they notice you. They could ignore you, or pick on you, or talk really fast and stumble over their words." "Yeah, but these boys are all gay," she said. "Didn't I mention what kind of center this is?" "Apparently not!" "I go there because I can have fun and not be hassled," she said as I pulled away following her directions to the place. "Everyone there is cool, and treats me like a person. I like it." We drove the short distance to the center, which was one of the few remaining houses on a commercial strip that hadn't been torn down. Only a small sign proclaimed its name, and I would never have guessed its purpose from that alone. As I parked in front, Tara rolled down the window and called to a group hanging around outside. Turning to me, she said in that voice that kids use when they really want a favor, "Do you think you could give some of us a ride to the store? It's just down the block. I think. I think we need a ride, I mean. Just hang on for a second, okay? I'll be right back." She rushed out of the car without giving me a chance to reply, so I turned it off and got out myself, leaning against the hood. After putting her head together with the gathered kids, they all drifted over, about eight in all. There was no way they would all fit in my Japanese import, and I hoped I wouldn't be asked to try anyway. Three of the others were girls, and of the five boys, one was big enough that he'd take up more than half the back seat himself, and I imagined that cramming others back there with him would be anything but a casual encounter. The others were smaller. "Only as many as there are seat belts," I said firmly. One of the kids rolled his eyes, there were a couple of sighs, but in the end Tara, another girl and two boys piled into the car. It was about a five-minute drive "down the block," and eventually one of the boys -- he was sitting directly behind me, so I couldn't see him at all -- tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you gay?" he asked me. No preamble, no 'Hi my name is . . .' greeting, not even, 'what's your sign?' to start off; he just asked me out of the blue. Knowing to expect a reaction, I said, "Actually, I am." The reaction came from Tara, who had never asked me that question. I wasn't technically in the closet at work, but I didn't bring my personal life to the office so no one there had a clue. I laughed when I saw her shocked expression. "What?" I asked. "It's not like I was hiding it." "Yeah, but still," she said, her tone making it clear that this was a full sentence. "I'm Trevor," the boy whispered in my ear. We pulled into the parking lot and all of us got out of the car. While Tara, the other girl and boy headed inside, Trevor grabbed my hand and led me around back of the store. "You're handsome," he said, leaning me up against the wall. He dropped to his knees, unzipped my fly, fished my cock out and slipped it into his mouth. I couldn't believe it! The quick glance I'd gotten of his face suggested he was in his mid-teens, but now I could only see the top of his head. It was still daylight, and his friends or someone else would see this soon, so I stopped him. "Why don't we drop them off first?" I suggested. "You mean go somewhere?" he asked. "I'd like that." He stood up, leaving me to shove my much-inflated member back where it belonged. "Drop me off too, and I'll meet you in ten minutes around the corner on the side street." I pictured the place in my mind, and nodded understanding. I took a moment to actually look at this boy. He had a complexion that was either well-tanned white or light-skinned black, with brown hair cut short enough that I couldn't tell if it curled or not. His eyes, though, were a startling blue. Trevor stood a bit more than five-and-a-half feet tall, but probably could have fit his head under my chin. His frame was slender, and there was no doubt he was younger than the age of consent. My mind, filled still with the feeling of his mouth, said, "Fuck it." I dropped him and the other kids off as planned, and rode around the neighborhood, being careful not to go past the teen center again lest I be recognized. After the proscribed minutes had passed, I found the back end of that side street — my driving around wasn't entirely random — and parked at the edge of a street light's range, so that my car's hood was all that was visible. The minutes ticked by, but before I panicked outright he ran up to car and jumped him. "Go go go go go!" he said in an urgent whisper, ducking down to keep anyone from seeing that I had a passenger. I responded with such urgency that the tires squealed a little bit as I pulled out. "Be chill!" he said sharply. "Dude, you're the one who went all cloak and dagger," I replied, but I eased off the gas as we headed to my place. He didn't say much on that short trip, but sat up straight once I had made a few turns. It was getting toward dusk, which might have made him less nervous about being seen, but he was still quiet despite my occasional question. Trevor followed me through the door when we arrived, and I led him directly into the bedroom. "Lie down," he said unceremoniously, lust in his eyes. I did, and he climbed on top, pushing all his lower clothing down to his ankles as he did so. Then, he started on my fly. This boy definitely had an agenda, and I was stunned. This kind of stuff just did not happen in real life, I thought as I watched him pull my cock out and pull my drawers down. I didn't have a chance to really look at him because of how he did it; his shirt was still on and his lower body was against mine. I felt him, though, hard and hot and rubbing against me, cock to cock. I ground against him in turn, and grabbed his tight little cheeks in my hands to make it easier. "You like that?" he asked me. "You like that ass?" "Damn right I do," I growled. "Someday soon you're gonna fuck that ass, but not today," he said. "You wanna fuck me in the ass?" The aforementioned ass was in the air has he thrust up against me, as Trevor had stretched out on my torso to ask me this. I only nodded and groaned. "No matter how old I am?" I looked at him then, more closely. Definitely younger than legal. Probably not sixteen. "Fifteen?" I ventured. "Practically sixteen," he replied. Then he put a finger over my mouth and began thrusting with more focus. My finger wandered between his cheeks, and they clenched around it without allowing it entry. However, I felt a warmth between us that could mean only one thing, which was confirmed as Trevor slowed and then stopped his motion, then suddenly got up and went into the bathroom to clean up. Realizing that we were probably done, I took care of my own damned self in just a few strokes, and wiped up with something from my hamper. When Trevor came back into the room, I was dressed; as I surmised, he was ready to go. He didn't have much to say on the way back to the youth center, and I didn't push it, imagining that he was experiencing shame or guilt the way so many guys do once the load is blown. In fact I figured I'd never see the kid again, and that was that, but as we pulled up around the corner he said to me, "I put my number in your phone. I'll call soon."