Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2018 12:15:21 -0400 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: Meeting for worship: with attention to Andy I entered the meeting house expecting to worship. What I did not expect was to find myself sitting across from an absolute vision of a boy. He was slim and blond, smooth and radiant, and I immediately knew that my thoughts would not be on God for the next hour. Some Quakers, myself included, worship with their eyes open at least part of the time, but most do not, at least in my meeting. This boy, who was seated beside a Friend who could only have been his grandmother, had his own eyes closed in a rapt expression. At least one of us was going to get some real worship in this morning. Sure enough, I found that my thoughts were focused on studying his features, wondering how old he was, pondering if this was a quick visit or a new interest in religion. He looked to be as tall as five-foot-eight, and I figured his age to be anywhere from 15 to 18. The short-sleeved shirt he wore revealed creamy forearms without any hair that I could see from across the way, but as my eyes drifted upward there might have been a hint above his lip . . . or, it could have been a trick of the light. What was clear to me suddenly, as my gaze took in the hair which lay straight and shining to just cover his ears entirely and the little button of a nose between his blue eyes, was that the reason I could see the color of his eyes was because he was watching me watching him. Oops. Through the remainder of the meeting for worship, I tried to avoid that happening again, but I continued to steal glances from time to time. He did the same. Maybe he wasn't worshiping so deeply as I previously assumed. When meeting was broken -- a senior Friend shakes hands with someone adjacent and wishes them a good morning to signal the end of worship -- we gathered in a circle, as is our custom, and joined hands as we shared names. I learned that the boy who I'd found so distracting was grandson of a member named Dorothy, and that Andy was visiting her for a couple of weeks. I introduced myself to Andy as we moved into the social portion of our weekly gathering. "You seemed to really get something out of worship," I remarked to cover my looking at him. "Are you a Quaker, like your grandmother?" "No, but I really like it," he said, his blue eyes bright. "I'd like to do it again." "We have a smaller worship session on Wednesday nights," I told him. "Your grandmother doesn't usually come, but I know where she lives and I could give you a ride, if you want to check it out." "I'd love that!" he said, and then immediately walked over to Dorothy to announce the plan, with me in tow. She looked at me and said, "It's not too much trouble?" "Not at all. I love encouraging young people." "Andy is quite special for a 13-year-old," she replied. I turned back to the boy in surprise, looking at him with new respect. "You carry yourself as a lot older," I told him. "Thanks," he said, looking downwards with a hint of bashfulness. Looking to take the attention off of his looks, I said, "What do you think about this area?" "Oh, it's really nice," he said, then added wistfully, "but I was hoping to see what the hiking was like, and my grandma isn't exactly up to it. She just doesn't want me going alone, you know?" Dorothy nodded in confirmation. "I get it," I said, recognizing the gift that had just been handed to me. "Maybe I could help. I work from home, which is why I can move things around to pick you up for midweek worship. It wouldn't take too much effort to just clear the day and take you on a day hike first, if that's okay." Andy nodded vigorously, but Dorothy wasn't so sure. "Hiking takes more time than anybody ever thinks it will," she said. "Unless you get a really early start, where could you go with any good views?" I knew Dorothy had done plenty of hiking in our area when she was more spry. I also noticed that she hadn't rejected the idea out of hand. "You're right, we'd have to get an early start," I said. "I'd have to get up before six to pick you up and be at the trail I'm thinking of, the Notch, at a decent hour." "Wow, that's pretty early," Andy said, "and then you'd get home kinda late after worship, I guess." I nodded, keeping my face neutral. He turned to his grandmother and whispered something in her ear. "Let's not take advantage of the man's time," she said, loud enough for me to hear. "I think I know what's going on, and I've been a backpacker long enough to agree that you have to start early and plan carefully, even for a day hike. If it's okay with you, Dorothy, I can put Andy up on my couch the night before and make sure he's ready when it's time to hit the trail." "Are you sure?" she said, looking at me carefully. "I am. Tuesdays are always slow for me, and I can do some of my usual Wednesday work ahead. It's not a problem." Andy impulsively hugged me, then jumped back to see if it was okay. "Sorry," he said. "I mean, thanks. I mean--" "--you're excited to go on a hike, I get it. It's not a problem," I interrupted, smiling. "Well I'm not going to stand in the way of Andy getting in a good hike around here," Dorothy said, beaming. "What time should he be ready Tuesday?" We made the arrangements, and as they made ready to leave I mingled with other members of the meeting. Andy smiled and waved as they left. I picked Andy up Tuesday, and Dorothy insisted on feeding me a good dinner at her house first. Never one to turn down a meal cooked by someone else, I gratefully accepted. Andy demonstrated astoundingly good table manners, making me self-conscious of my own form. We then headed back to my place for the night. "How long have you been a Quaker?" he asked me once we'd settled in the living room. "Not my whole life, if that's what you're wondering," I replied. "Maybe ten years or so." "It's not like going to church," Andy replied. "That's just boring, but the meeting gave me these weird feelings." "Oh?" I said. "Like what?" "Well . . . " he paused for a long time, but I gave him the time to find the words. "It was tingly. Like in my head, like I almost had pins and needles in my thoughts, if that makes any sense." He looked to me for assurance, then pressed on. "The tingling went into my body, too, but there it didn't feel like pins and needles. More like a chill, but more than that in some places." His face flushed slightly, but I noticed. "Words can be hard," I provided. "Yeah," he said. "Hard." "We could do that now, if you like," I said to him. "Worship, I mean. With only two of us it wouldn't be like when you're in a room full of people. This is more intimate." "What does that mean?" he asked. I replied, "Anything that either of us said aloud would be just for the other to hear. Private, just between us. Any leading, really." "Leading?" Andy asked, unfamiliar with the term. "When you feel deep inside you a desire to do or say a certain thing, that might be a leading of spirit," I explained. "They can be hard to recognize without practice, but there's usually not a lot of harm in doing the thing and later realizing it came from yourself, not spirit." "Like running through the room naked?" Andy said, his eyes twinkling. I laughed. "They used to call that 'streaking,' you know. Probably not spirit-led, but it's not my place to judge." He assumed a more serious expression now. "Actually, DO Quakers ever worship naked? Is that against the rules, or anything?" "Early Friends did practice modesty, wearing clothes that didn't flaunt wealth or body characteristics," I told him. "Some nudists today believe that being naked is the best equalizer, because you can't show off your wealth, and sooner or later naked bodies are no longer sexually arousing. I guess I could imagine an argument that nude worship would fall under the simplicity and equality testimonies, but I've never heard anyone claim that." Andy snorted. "How can being naked NOT be arousing? I get hard even TALKING about being naked around anyone." "Then . . . now?" I ventured. He blushed, then laughed. "Ya got me," he said. "You know, Andy, if you're naked and hard, only one of two things is going to happen." "What are those?" he asked. "Either no one pays attention to your penis, and it eventually goes limp," I said, "or someone pays attention to it, and it stays hard until it's done its job." "I feel like if I stay dressed after talking about it like this, it will stay hard for a long, long time," he admitted. "You might not be able to worship with an erection," I told him. Andy stood up and took off his shirt, revealing a smooth, milky-white, barely-defined chest underneath. "I was hard the whole time at meeting," he said, then unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his slender, hairless legs, "but I figured it out." I watched as he stood up, his erection unmistakable now. "You didn't try getting naked during worship," I said. "It's different with you," he said. "Somehow I don't think I'll be hard very long if I'm naked with you, Ben." With that, he pulled his underpants down and off, and stood there for me to behold. Yes, Andy was all boy, but I was also still struck by how really, really WHITE he was. Not sickly pale, or the ghostly hue of albinism, his skin was just about as color-free as was otherwise possible. I don't particularly care about race, but the extremes of pigment seem exotic, and erotic. The pink nipples were the only change in color from Andy's neck to his navel, but from there things got far more visually interesting. "Well you're certainly hard now," I said. "Yeah, but you're going to pay attention to it, I bet," he said. It was no more than five inches long, sticking proudly out and up as if demanding attention. His pubic hair reminded of what a pompadour with sides closely cropped would look like if applied to the crotch. Andy's balls were tight against his body, forming a walnut against a slight chill in the air. "You're cold," I said, taking his testicles in my hand. "I'll warm you up." I fondled his sack, which became more pliable as I gently kneaded his nuts. "I have a confession to make," I said, looking into his face. "What's that?" Andy asked. "I'm not going to be able to worship unless I pay attention to this first," I said, gently squeezing his genitals. "Let's go to my room and get into bed." He smiled, and said, "Lead the way." With a devious grin, I followed his instructions and led him by the penis into the bedroom. I wrapped covers around us and he said, "Pay attention to it, Ben. I want your hands on it. I want your hands all over me. I want you naked and all over me." Request received. There was not a square inch of him that I did not caress and explore, seeking out every sensitive nub, every erogenous area, every mote of flesh that welcomed my touch with a tremble. Andy was smooth nearly to a fault, but that doesn't mean his skin was all the same. Stretched over shoulders and elbows and knees it was a soft barrier against boniness, but covering the muscles of his biceps and calves and abdomen it felt somehow harder, barely containing the energy of the hot flesh within. Nipples also count as skin, and his pink nubs of flesh were quick to harden under my ministrations. I alternated between watching his face and drinking in the beauty from the rest of his body while listening to his breathing. At one point, he inhaled deeply and then the sound stopped; I soon looked in his eyes to make sure he was okay. When he exhaled, I said, "I want to hear how good this makes you feel. I know you're probably used to being quiet, but you can let it out now, Andy. If you want to moan, just moan. It's a huge turn-on for me." While he appeared agreeable to anything I said, it took some time for Andy to comply. First he kicked the covers off of us and threw his legs wide. I was kissing around his balls, and he said in earnest, "Please." I knew what he wanted. I wanted it too. It was like eating a vanilla popsicle, if the popsicle was begging to be eaten. As his dick filled my mouth, I realized my throat had been clenching in anticipation of this moment, and now relaxed into completeness. It was the moment when that piece of steak you've been eyeing on the grill finally hits the tongue, only it went on and on because there was no obligation to chew. Swallow, yes, but that was yet to come. I was in that magical moment of dick in throat, and all that mattered to either of us was that it stayed right there, sliding over my tongue and thrusting against my uvula. His pushed into my with an urgency that was supported by the curling of his toes, but masked by the silence into which he had again lapsed. I pulled off to try once more. "When your dick is in my throat I can't breathe," I said, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't either." He laughed, which turned into a moan as I went back down on him again. "That's it," I said, swirling my tongue around his head, "let me hear you." It took some encouragement, but Andy started to get a lot more into it. Maybe it was letting himself go by moaning and groaning, or maybe he like that I was giving him encourage around his hard dick in my mouth. Whatever the reason, his young bush was soon slamming against my lip as he tried to get as far back in my throat as his young cock would allow. With Andy taking the lead, we rolled over with me on my back and him fucking my face with all the energy he could muster. He pulled his knees up and his swinging balls smacked up against me with each thrust. I caressed his cheeks and tentatively stroked along his crack before he rolled us over again, spreading wide and giving me all the access I could desire. "Oh god," he said, "I'm so cl--" the words were cut off by a moan as he bucked and thrust and shot off, some of it in my mouth and some of it anywhere but. He flailed around so much it's amazing I got to taste any of it fresh at all. I was lucky not to get a shot in the eye. "Wow, I got it all over you," he said finally, tracing his hand over my now-sticky chest and past my navel. "I will too in a minute," I said. "Want to help?" He smiled then, with his eyes as well as his mouth, and helped me roll onto my back to allow him access. His fingers, warm and supple, eagerly wrapped around me. It was exactly what I desired, and I sighed as he did it. "Shhh," he said. "Worship is supposed to be silent." That nearly got a response from me, but he put a finger across my lips to stop it. Slowly, he put the index finger of his other hand in his own mouth; he withdrew it shiny and wet, and circled my cock's head with it. I twitched, but I kept quiet. As I watched, fingers which had never known a callous circled my girth, tracing each vein, each ridge. He was gentle, probably more gentle than he would have been with his own, hesitating to cause it harm, perhaps. Timidly he caressed me, and as I watched he licked his lips. Looking down, I realized he was getting hard again as he focused on me. "Rub up against me," I said. "Like you're humping me." He quickly got the idea, and I felt his hard little guy raiding my personal space. Andy's body responded to the sensations of rubbing against my own cock and stomach, as he picked up the pace. I grabbed his tight little cheeks with both hands and thrust myself wildly against him, such that he soon stopped and just let me use his tight, warm flesh for my own release. The space between us, already sticky from his seed, was suddenly slick again as I groaned and shot my life's work out the end of my dick. I don't know if Andy came again, but he soon lifted up from me, saying "ew" as the strands of cooling jizz fought to preserve our embrace. "Life is messy," I said, "but that doesn't mean it's not sacred. Want to just wipe up, or do you need a shower?" "I'm pretty gross," he laughed. "Probably a shower." Taking him by the hand, I led him into the bathroom and started the water. There was no question that we'd be showering together, and after we were both warm and wet I took the soap and, standing behind him, began to wash his chest. He leaned against me as my hands slid over nipples and slid into armpits before I probed his navel for evidence of our excitement. "Poke lower," he said then, and peeking over his shoulder I realized he was hard again. "Oh boy," I said. "You're a horny boy." "Always," he said. "How about you show me how you do it?" I asked. "Later. I want you now." I leaned him into my chest as I slid my soapy hands over his body. Under the water his skin was smoother than silk and quivered at my touch. My fingers found his nipples, his ribs, his hips, his abs. My dick found his butt and was probing between Andy's cheeks and thighs almost before I realized it. I knew I would fuck this boy gladly if he asked, but instead he pulled my hands forward and wrapped fingers around both our members together. I figured he'd be ready for action again quickly, but I was surprised to realize just how ready I was myself. "Oh Ben, you're so big, I love your cock," he said as I thrust against him and into my own hands at the same time. The feeling of his flesh -- buttocks and biche and balls and his hard-as-nails cock -- was incredible; I felt my legs trembling as we continued. "It feels so good there it's gonna make me cum again, Ben, really soon!" He clutched his legs tighter around me and I began to kiss his milky neck. "It's so good, Ben, I'm so close!" I knew he wasn't lying, but also that I wasn't going to finish right away and that I might not even get the chance. I resigned myself to that fact. Andy's breathing was coming in gasps now, and he was turning his head left and right in lieu of all-out thrashing. Once his lips brushed mine as if he considered a kiss, but instead he asked, "Have you ever fucked a boy?" I don't know if that was his plan, but the very thought was enough to send a flood of new hormones from pituitary to testes, and by the time I could open my mouth in response I was groaning out my release instead. "Oh god yes, Ben, cum for me!" he cried, grasping on to his own dick for dear life as I shot a surprisingly large load on the floor of the shower. He bucked in my grasp and shuddered, and I knew he followed soon after with his own. We held each other for a time, but when the water temperature started to cool, I ushered us out and wrapped my biggest towel around him. "Dry me?" he asked, and I was happy to comply before taking care of myself. Returning to the living room once we were dressed, we cuddled on the couch and basked in each other. "We shouldn't stay up too late tonight," I told him finally. "Remember, tomorrow we've got a hike." "Right!" Andy said. "It should be fun, but I kinda wish we were going to meeting for worship instead." I laughed. "I don't think you'll ever find worship quite like that, Andy. I hope you understand how DIFFERENT that was from what Quakers usually do." "Oh, I get it, Ben, but from now on when I worship, it will be YOUR spirit that moves inside me." --------------------------------------------------------------- If you enjoyed the preceding work of fiction, please consider donating to Nifty. Every dollar goes a long way. I am delighted to be listed as a prolific net author; you can find a current list of my Nifty contributions by visiting https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#paternalwatcher. 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