Date: Tue, 19 Sep 2017 18:05:48 +0000 From: bruno Subject: The Young Gardener Chapter 2 THE YOUNG GARDENER Chapter 2 Next Saturday morning, Jack's mum rang. `Sorry, he can't come today. He's not feeling well.' Was I imagining it or was her tone abrupt? Was Jack really not well or was that an excuse? And whose excuse? His or hers? `Is everything all right?' I asked. `Will he be coming back?' She laughed. `Don't be stupid. It's just an upset tummy. He loves coming to yours. He's talking about doing a gardening BTEC. And he doesn't mind the extra money either.' Next Saturday there was a rap at the door. Jack was standing there in double denim, smiling. `Mum says you thought I was about to die,' he said. `KILLER BUG HITS TOWN.' He spelt out the imaginary headline in the air. Denim suited him. The shirt gave him a raffish edge and the jeans emphasised how thickset he was. I glanced for as long as I dared at the muscular thighs I had been caressing a fortnight before. `I got the wrong end of the stick,' I replied. `What have you got planned for me today?' he asked, his eyes coolly holding mine. It had been windy over the past few days, stirring up the leaves on the ground, bringing more in from the woods the other side of the fence. But it had settled now and so the deal was that Jack would collect the leaves and then the two of us would burn them. His eyes lit up. I watched out of the upper window as he rushed round the garden collecting the leaves in a wheelbarrow and taking them up to the top where I'd cleared a site for the fire. His shirt came loose but he didn't seem to care despite the cold. Maybe when I was that age I hadn't either. When he'd made enough progress, I strolled out in boots and a thick jacket. `Are you sure you're warm enough, Jack?' I asked. `I can lend you a jacket.' Jack shook his head. His shirt lifted, showing his waistline. `No, the fire will keep me warm.' `That's not the idea,' I replied. `We need to keep it covered and damped down, otherwise it might get out of control.' He shrugged, like he thought he was still right. I showed him how to get the fire started, using twigs and a lighter. Then I got him to put a couple of forkfuls of leaves on top, not enough to put the fire out with their moisture but enough to keep the flames under control. Smoke trailed upwards. `Won't the neighbours complain?' he asked. `No,' I replied. `They're not really near enough. And anyway, they want to burn their own leaves.' `Cool' he replied, He looked excited. I had forgotten how cramped it must be living in a small flat with no garden or balcony. He pushed the fork hard into the ground and rested his foot on it, stretching the jeans round his thigh and his hip. `What's next?' he asked. `The leaves will keep smouldering and after a bit you'll see the fire break through somewhere or another. Not flames but embers. Your job is to shovel more leaves on, to keep the embers under control and covered up.' He listened attentively, his dark brown eyes sparkling as he looked at me, his shirt hanging loose. `Make sure you keep yourself covered up,' I said. `You don't want any cinders going up your shirt.' He nodded and stuffed the shirt inside his jeans, his hand pushing all the way down. I left him to it and went inside to check some paperwork but I found it hard to concentrate. I was thinking back to a fortnight ago, of Jack naked in my bathrobe, of him shuddering as he ejaculated under my table. The same Jack who was now outside in my garden, minding that fire. I went back out. He looked at me as if he had been reading my mind. `Your shift's almost finished,' I said. `Let's cover the fire.' We both heaped leaves onto it, creating a large mound. `That should keep it going until tomorrow,' I said. `Really?' he said. `You're not going to put it out?' `A fire like this can keep going for days.' `Wow.' We walked back into the house. `It's not been raining today,' he said, smiling. `No.' `But I wouldn't mind a coffee. If that's OK?' `Sure.' I went into the kitchen, trembling with anticipation, not sure what I'd see when I walked back. Did Jack want more than just a mug of coffee? When I returned, he was already sitting on the bench behind the table, practically in the middle. I sat down next to him. Looking at me, he took his mug in both hands. Under the table, I stroked his knee under the jeans. Thick and sturdy. I moved slowly up the inside of his thigh, rubbing it, enjoying the roughness of the denim but imaging the smooth skin underneath that I had felt before. He stayed looking ahead, slightly flushed. Then, before I realised it, I reached his package. I felt its fleshiness, the softness of his balls, the semi-hardness above them. My hand cupped him. I was not sure what to do next. Jack stood up abruptly. That, I thought, was that. He had let me stroke his genitals and that was as much as he wanted. But he played with his waist button as if rearranging himself and then sat down again. He stayed looking straight ahead. Well, it didn't seem like he was going somewhere else any time soon. My hand slipped under the table again and bumped straight against his naked thigh. It was almost touching me. He had pushed his jeans down below his knees and his legs were wide apart. I ran my hand up him and pressed the back of his buttock, feeling its curve, inching towards the top of his crack. Then I returned to that package, now completely exposed. His balls were bigger than I expected, each one the size of a bird's egg. I fingered them carefully, realising Jack was not used to this. His scrotum was smooth and slack, I guessed his balls hung low when he was standing. I sighed, moved up and touched his cock. Jack seemed to be concentrating like mad as he stared ahead. I ran my finger along the underside of it, standing rigid up into the air. I counted five inches as I went. At the top, I rubbed his mushroom through his foreskin, then pulled the foreskin back. I imagined how purple his knob was and ran my finger round its ridge before touching the top. There was definitely some seepage, some pre-cum. Jack's eyes were closed now. I grasped his whole cock with my fist and squeezed it. It was nicely thick and I could feel the blood throbbing. I pulled down. My fist pressed against the bone at the base of his shaft and felt that black bush I could remember seeing. I jerked his cock slowly up and down, masturbating him, stroking his knob with my thumb, feeling its wetness. Then he jumped up and seized control of his cock, wanking it crazily until he came. I watched the cum spurt out of him and over the table. Four spurts and a long line of thick semen. He sat down, mouth open, and looked at his offering for maybe a minute. Then he stood and, turning away from me so that I saw his full ass for the first time, buttoned up his trousers. `I gotta go,' he said. After he had left, I slowly licked up that line of semen from one end to the other, my tongue relishing the taste of every drop. ___________________________________________________________ Comments welcome to jds.1980@hotmail.com Support nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Everything I write is totally fictional!