Date: Sun, 01 Nov 2020 15:41:31 +0000
From: Karl M. <moonlitrain@protonmail.com>
Subject: Painter's Protege Chapter 1: Beginnings

This is a work of fiction that takes place in a world of my imagination
only. The ages of the characters involved are up to my readers. Any
comments, feedback and suggestions are welcome! Please send them to
moonlitrain@protonmail.com.


Chapter 1: Beginnings


I don't know how it happened. I still can't get my head around it. It was
one of those events that, looking back on it, seems like a dream. The
powerful sensations it left in its wake are not just a product of my
imagination, but something that I doubt I'll ever forget for as long as I
live.

First of all, let me give you a bit of background. My name is William. I'd
been a painter for most of my adult life, but only recently had I begun to
get any recognition for it. As a result of this sudden (and welcome)
notoriety, I found myself being trotted out at various parties for the very
wealthy. Mostly the experience was an excruciating bore, but every once in
a while I have met some genuinely engaging people. The Heatton family are a
good example of this rare phenomenon - wealthy art collectors who actually
had a desire to engage with what I paint and my creative process. We have
had a relationship that goes back a good ten years now.

Over the years, I had enjoyed the fact that their young son Timothy was
especially intrigued by my work as a painter. He was a bright and engaging
boy with a fascination and a facility for creating art. It had been
enjoyable to see him grow up immersed in art and to actually demonstrate
some genuine talent. Of course, his parents had encouraged him to speak
with me and learn from me. It had been my distinct pleasure to teach him.

I've long been aware that I hold a strong attraction for teenage boys. I
have not taken any action in that direction besides in the realms of my
sexual fantasies. Of course, I have had sexual encounters with 20 or 21
year old young men which I found quite fulfilling. However, my deepest
desires were reserved for the most forbidden youths. The point of all of
this is that I had begun to find Timothy increasingly more attractive.

He's a tall teenager with a certain coltish grace to him. He's 6'1" with
long legs, long arms and a lean torso that has been toned through playing
tennis and long distance running. Seeing the hard, flat definition of his
chest and belly on the occasions where I have caught him shirtless stole my
breath. He's got a face with a certain delicacy to it. An angular jawline,
high cheekbones and a faintly elfin aspect define his face along with
roseate pink lips and grey-blue eyes that hold warmth in them. His hair his
strawberry blonde and usually cut to fall in a fringe over his face. He
also has beautiful hands with long, elegant fingers that are clever and
quick. In essence, he was the fantasy of a boy that I had always held in my
mind.

As Tim got older, our conversations grew more in depth and complicated. I
came to realize that he was exceptionally bright and mature for his age. I
began to look forward more and more to the times when he'd be home from
boarding school, eager to hear what was going on in his life and realizing
that I was falling hopelessly, helplessly in love with this brilliant
boy. Of course, I tried valiantly to keep these desires in check, realizing
that the result of my acting on them would be disastrous for me and also
for him. I could not risk his future or mine for my cravings.

There were subtle signs that the nature of my relationship with him was
changing for him too. I felt that he was treating me more like a friend and
less like a father figure. Of course, I reminded myself that it might have
been my own desires that fuelled my feelings in this direction. I was
helping him work on a painting that he'd brought back home from school. I
was thrilled to see it, as it was clear that his art teacher had spotted
the same talent I had and was nurturing it. While he was home, his parents
had asked me to make sure he didn't fall behind.

Now, we stood in front of the painting, our work done for the day. His
beautiful face was beaming as he turned to me> "We did well today, huh,
Will? I'm so happy you're helping me with this painting. I'm so proud of
it!"

I smiled back brightly. "Justifiably so! You do have such a talent,
Tim. I'm glad your parents and teachers see it too!"

He looked at me then, those sea grey eyes meeting mine, sending another
jolt through me at their intensity. "You're always here for me, y'know?
Like ever since I was a little kid, you've been around. You really mean a
lot to me, Will. I mean it!"

There was something in his tone of voice that made my chest tighten and my
heart beat faster. Perhaps, I thought, it's just my imagination but I was
sure I detected some sort of subtext in his words. "Well you mean a lot to
me too, Tim. I've got no kids of my own so you're special to me."

He shook his head, face full of concentration, fine eyebrows knit
together. "No. You don't get it, Will. I think...this is so stupid...but I
think I love you..."

It was like I had been hit in the stomach by a giant fist. The breath was
utterly knocked out of my body and I was unable to speak for a moment.
Eventually I stammered, "I...well...maybe it's just that...you look up to
me? Maybe you're confused about what you feel? At your age, it's..."

He cut me off. "I may be a kid, but you know I'm not dumb, Will. What I'm
feeling isn't just admiration, it's...attraction."

My mind was a whirling, racing mess of different emotions and thoughts that
collided violently. I took a deep breath and tried to stop my hands and
voice from shaking. "I don't know what to say, Tim. Of course, I...uh...I'm
flattered but I just don't...I mean we can't..."

A huge sigh heaved from his flawless pink lips. "I know. I know you can't
and I shouldn't. I mean...being gay's not a big deal. It's just...I really
can't get you out of my head, Will. I thought about you all last term. Sure
there are lotsa cute boys in my school, but I just thought of you."

My heart was still thundering in my chest and I forced myself to take a few
more deep breaths before I would trust my voice again. "I don't know what
to say, Tim. I..."

The distance between us was bridged in one easy stride of Tim's long, slim
legs. Before I could speak or act, his mouth was against mine, soft and
delicate. I resisted, tried to pull away for a moment, but a wild and
hungry impulse overtook me and I opened my mouth to his eager kiss. He was
hardly experienced but that was made up for with raw desire. I felt his
cock hard against me, surprisingly large as it ground into my thigh and my
own responded, growing rapidly rock hard against him.

As we kissed, he relaxed and let his soft, warm tongue probe my mouth. He
tasted of cinnamon chewing gum and a tremble of desire ran through him as I
let my hands caress his slim, firm body and slip down his back. Our mouths
melted and moved wetly together, I could feel his heartbeat thudding hard
against me both in his chest and in the insistent throb of his hard penis
as it ground hard into me. A wave of panic suddenly washed over me at this
rush of sensations and I broke away from him and took a staggering step
back.

Remorse hit me like a hammer blow then and an apology began to pour out of
me. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry, Tim. What am I...what was I...doing?"

His eyes were full of shock and hurt. "No, it's okay, Will. It's really
okay. Please don't worry! No one needs to know."

I shook my head. "No.I can't do it, Tim. It's...so wrong. Your parents know
me, they trust me. I could never betray that trust."

Tears began pouring down Tim's delicate features. "Oh no. No. This is what
I was afraid of. I'd do something so fucking stupid and you wouldn't want
to be around me any more."

Standing there, paralyzed, unable to even give him a hug for fear of what
might happen I shook my head again. "I still want to be around you. I still
want to spend time with you, but we can't let that happen again. Do you
understand?"

He nodded miserably. "I swear it won't, Will. Not ever again!"

I kept consoling him until he settled and the tears stopped. I promised him
I'd be around the next day to help with the painting and he seemed calmer
as I left.

That night I couldn't get what had happened out of my head. Revulsion at
the ease at which I'd given into my desires warred with the power of those
desires and the fact that Tim had responded so eagerly to me without any
initiation on my part. I struggled to settle down enough to sleep and no
matter what else happened, I was filled with the thought about seeing him
again. As you will discover, things were about to get more complicated
again.