Date: Thu, 16 Sep 2010 11:05:14 -0400 From: D DeLion Subject: Flattop - Part 2 The following is a work of gay erotic fiction involving graphically described sex among teenage males, jocks, athletics, and sex with older males. If these topics offend you, or if it is illegal for you to read or possess such materials where you are, read no further. This story is pure fantasy. The author does not condone either sex with minors, intergenerational sex, or unprotected sex. Do not reproduce this without permission. Comments welcome - send to dlion@live.ca. Flattop By Dan deLion Chapter Two: The Cottage Over the next two weeks we hung out a lot, but he never mentioned the bizarre and slightly erotic conversation we had. I noticed he was spending a lot of time with me but very little with the hot cheerleader. He confided in me that his girlfriend was pissing him off lately. She was a bit of an airhead and he was finding it hard to relate to her. She was failing most of her courses and despite his appearance he was a bit of an intellectual and found he couldn't talk to her about much or even enjoy the same movies. She was also becoming very demanding and bitchy. Since she was a year his junior, he was thinking he would probably break up with her before going to university in the fall. She was making him miserable and started to blame me. One night instead of going to see a film, he drove us out to a country road near a lake and we sat on a picnic table and had a serious talk about her. To my surprise I found the intensity of the conversation and the intimacy of the location and our low voices (like we were in a library or something), a huge turn on and spent the whole time with a hard on. By the end of the conversation he decided not to waste his summer with her dragging him down and that he'd drop her. It was only a few weeks to graduation, but he just didn't want to deal with her anymore. It also seemed to really bother him that she was such a bitch about me. I took a perverse pleasure in that and also in the fact that after that night he only ever called me Dave – not Pretty Boy or Smoothie. Just before graduation, Sean asked me to spend a weekend with him cleaning out and opening up the family cottage for the summer. We packed a shitload of stuff into his car including several cases of beer and headed up. It was a three hour drive and despite the intense heat off the asphalt and the lack of air conditioning in his car, we had a great time singing along to old music on the radio and stopping every so often for more junk food. When we go there, the place was in decent condition if a bit musty. He had called ahead and made sure the power was reconnected and the water was on. A neighbor had gone through the place and made sure the fridge was plugged in and the septic system was working so we were pretty comfortable, though the power was only working on one side of the cottage. The master bedrooms, bathroom and part of the living room were still dead. Luckily there was a supply of candles and holders in the cupboards and the water heater was working. It was too late at night to do much, and the interior was like a sauna so we just threw open all the screen windows and piled sleeping bags on the queen size bed in his parents room. It was too hot to sleep in the bags but we didn't feel like finding sheets in the tightly packed car (we did manage to find the beer and the ice!), so we used them on top of the bare mattress instead. I don't know why but it hadn't occurred to me that we'd be sharing a bed. We found a couple of beach towels and headed down to moonlit sand with the cooler of iced beers and the remainder of the junk food. Thankfully the beach was mostly deserted. After a few beers he surprised me by asking of I wanted to smoke a joint. We'd never done this together and I didn't have much experience with it but we had the place to ourselves and felt on top of the world so I said sure. He went back to the cottage and returned a few minutes later with a joint and a lighter. He said he was glad I was into it and after a few misfires, I learned to inhale without choking. Soon we were both giggling uncontrollably at the smallest thing, rolling around on the sand in hysterics until our sides hurt. After a while (a couple more beers and another joint) we got more mellow and spacey and ended up lying next to each other staring at the stars and having overly deep and intellectually brilliant conversations about the nature of the universe which was quickly unraveling it's mysteries to us. In short – we were stoned. The longer we lay there the more we started to bump shoulders and legs, sprawled out on the towels. In our tripped out language, we talked about being psychically connected and that if we were physically close so we agreed that whoever was speaking had to be touching the other person somehow. I was aware of how erotic I found the idea but through the haze of the pot I was also convinced it was essential to the future of the universe. I found myself gradually getting more and more adventurous when finding ways to touch him as I talked, rubbing my thigh against his an actually holding is hand at one point. My back was a bit sore from sitting wrong in the long car ride to putting my hand on his chest (hoping he wouldn't notice that I was cupping his pec and trying to feel his hair through the thin shirt). It was after 2am when we started to come down and the intimacy became embarrassing. For me this was evident when he was talking about a dog he had as a kid and was rubbing my chest and abs as he told me. Suddenly it was too much and very awkward (my nipples were hard as rock). He sensed this and pulled back, going silent. I felt bad about this. It's not that I wasn't enjoying his attention – I very much was. It's just that it was going somewhere that was alien to us. To break the silence I asked him if he wanted to take a quick dip in the lake before bed. I had visions of daring him to skinny dip but he pointed out that we were still a bit drunk and high and swimming probably wasn't a good idea. We were both pretty grimy from the hot car ride and the sand that had stuck to us so he suggested we shower and then hit the sack. We grabbed our towels, empties and cooler and stumbled back to the cottage, giggling as we realized we really were still stoned. I lit a few candles each for the living room, bedroom and bathroom. The harsh florescent light from the kitchen seemed out of place with the subdued candle light so I turned all the electric bulbs off and let the candles do the work. It felt more cottage-like anyway. If it wasn't so hot a fire in the big stone fireplace would have been great. While I did this, Sean started to run the shower (which was brown at first as the pipes cleared out) and went to fish a bag of soap and toiletries out of the car. To my surprise when he returned to the bathroom, he was only wearing the beach towel he'd used earlier wrapped around his waist. I felt almost hypnotized by the way the candle light lit up his shiny golden mat of chest hair. I hadn't really seen him shirtless much and it made me feel a little light headed. He smiled and threw me my towel, telling me to change out of my sweaty clothes and rinse off. I went back to the bedroom and stripped down aware my cock was starting to rise. I wrapped the towel around my waist quickly, hoping he was done showering so I could slip into the frosted stall without him seeing my growing cock. At the same time I pictured him soaping up that peach fuzzed ass and my situation got worse. When I got back to the bathroom, he was still in the shower, but had left the door open a bit. I could see his fuzzy outline in the stall and his back was to me. I was about to go back to the living room to wait when he called out. "You there bud?" "Yeah" "Can you do me a favor and soap my back? I can't reach all the sand that got down my shirt." "Um, sure" I replied nervously. The door to the stall slid open and he looked back over his shoulder at me. Water cascaded over his broad shoulders and down to his perfect ass. "Well get in here, Smoothie" he grinned, throwing a wet cloth at my chest. I thought I'd just wipe his upper back off from outside, I didn't realize he wanted me in the stall with him... To Be Continued...