Date: Tue, 9 Sep 2014 20:05:28 +0300
From: Ben Coolen <bencoolen1212@gmail.com>
Subject: Scotty's Tailor Chapter 7

Scotty's Tailor

By Ben C.

This story contains sexual acts between young males (t/t, oral, mast, dom).
If you don't like it, or it is illegal in your country, please stop reading.

Please keep in mind that Nifty needs our donations to keep this great free
service running.

Chapter 7

I had a feeling that my life was going to get better servicing Cooper. And
I sure was going to do my best to keep him satisfied with me.

I wondered what he had in store for me...

--------

I knew I wasn't supposed to try to contact Cooper. He would call or text me
when or if he wanted to meet me. But I was addicted to him and unable to
think clearly. I was sure Scotty had given him my number, but maybe he had
lost it?

I jerked off at least once a day dreaming of his slim body, imagining
myself on my knees at his feet again, following his orders.

I saw him at school every now and then, but I seemed to be invisible to
him. But when I saw him laughing or riding his skateboard I couldn't think
about anything else for the rest of the school day. I was restless and my
studies were going down the drain. I had to speak with him.

I managed to obtain his number from one of his friends using some lame
pretence. After I got home from school I sat down on my bed and gathered
courage for a long time, staring at my phone. Then I took a deep breath and
dialed the number with my shaking index finger.

Beep... Beep... Beep.

"Huh?" said Cooper's voice in the other end.

"Cooper? Hi, it's Rick."

Painful silence. I could hear skateboards rattling in the background.

"Rick fucking who? I don't know any Ricks."

"You know, the guy you met at Scotty's. The `dude'".

Silence again.

"Oh yeah, the dude. Wait a second."

I heard him explain to someone:

"Sorry man, I gotta take this one."

Then I heard his hurried steps on a gravel path as he distanced from the
person he had been talking with.

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" he asked, irritated.

"I'm sorry, Cooper. I just wanted to let you know I'm available anytime if
you want to see me."

"Scotty already told me that."

"Well, yeah. I know. Sorry again for calling you." I was just about to hang
up when he interrupted me.

"Hold on."

He kept silent for a while.

"I've been thinking about what happened back there."

"Did you like it?" I asked.

"Fuck yeah. It was hot."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said.

Silence again.

"Saturday."

My heart jumped.

"Just tell me the time and place."

"I'll be skating with my buddies most of the day. Let's say about four, at
my place."

He told me his address.

"My crib is in the back, behind the garage. If I'm not there, you can just
let yourself in. There's a spare key in one of my shoes on the deck," he
said and hung up.

I slumped down on my back on the bed. My gamble had paid off. The uber-cool
skater wanted to see me again. Well, not to make friends with me, of
course, but my heart was about to burst with joy anyway. I knew I had
served him well. I was determined to further improve my performance so that
he would make me his regular cocksucker.

I started to think of new ways to pleasure him, going through his body
parts in my mind. I would lick his thighs, kiss his buttocks, suck his
balls and worship the soles of his feet... I had to interrupt my planning as
the urge to jack off grew too painful.

------

I arrived ten minutes early, as I didn't want to be late in case Cooper was
already waiting for me. I stood by my bike for a while, admiring their big
Scandinavian-style lakeside house, wondering what it was like to live in a
place like that. Oh no, I wasn't envious. I was happy to see that Cooper
seemed to be living the good life he deserved.

I tried the iron gate. It wasn't locked. I didn't see anyone around, but
there was a black Porsche Cayenne SUV parked in front of the house. Cooper
had invited me, so I figured no one was going to gun me down if I entered
their property. I opened the gate and stepped into a new world for me.

I saw a three-car garage next to the main building. Behind the garage was a
small bungalow-type building that looked like someone was living there.
That had to be Cooper's "crib".

I climbed the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell. No answer, so
I rang again. He was obviously still hanging out with his pals at the skate
park. Next to the front door was a wooden deck with a nice view to the
lake. In the corner of the deck I saw a pile of skate shoes. One of the
dozen or so shoes had to be the hiding place for the spare key, so I began
inspecting them one by one. The shoes were of many brands and colors, but
all of them radiated Cooper's familiar aroma. I was about halfway into the
pile when I found a key inside a scuffed black-and-white Emerica hi-top.

I unlocked the door and entered Cooper's crib. I was excited to see how the
hot teen lived. On the other hand, I felt like a burglar, entering his
private quarters like that, even with his permission.

The room was dim, as venetian blinds were drawn to protect the place from
the hot sunshine. I opened the blinds and inspected my surroundings. The
room I had entered into was a decent-sized living room with a comfortable
looking couch, two armchairs and a large screen mounted on the wall. The
place looked just like a teen boy was living there. Empty soda cans and
chips bags were scattered on the table and on the floor. The walls were
covered with all kinds of posters, mostly presenting skate heroes and
brands, and of course, some half-naked chicks with big boobs.

In the corner of the living room was a pile of unwashed laundry. Doesn't he
have a laundry basket, I thought to myself.

The door to Cooper's bedroom was open, and I stepped in, feeling a bit
guilty. I wasn't surprised to see that the king-size bed, where he rested
his divine body every night, was unmade. But I was astonished to see more
dirty laundry scattered on the floor. A lot of laundry. Maybe their washing
machine is out of order?

On the floor, next to the bed, was a pair of black Quiksilver boxers,
obviously the ones he had been wearing the day before. I picked them up and
pressed them on my face, inhaling Cooper's boyish scent. I felt my cock
stir as I realized that soon I was going to enjoy that scent from the
source himself.

I peeked into the bathroom and saw what I already knew to expect: a laundry
basket, overflowing Cooper's shirts, jeans, shorts, boxers and socks. The
bathroom looked like it was in need of a thorough scrub.

I decided to make myself useful while waiting for him to arrive. I found
some cleaning gear in a closet and began to pick up trash, stuffing it into
a waste bag. When I was done, I started to pick up the dirty clothes,
sorting them into waste bags: white stuff into one bag, colored into
another and denim into a third one. When I got the laundry sorted, Cooper
still hadn't shown up, so I wiped the tables and vacuumed the floors. I had
just started to scrub the bathroom wash-basin when I heard a cark park
right in front of the apartment. I peeked out and saw Cooper taking his
skateboard from the trunk of his Jeep.

He looked perfect, as always, although I could see he had been very busy
practicing with his skateboard. Sweat glued his white Independent tank-top
into his taut body. His tight blue jeans were covered with dust. A white
bandanna was keeping his long black bangs in place and preventing sweat
from running down into his eyes that were hidden behind large white-framed
sunglasses.

Cooper placed the skateboard neatly on the porch and unlocked the door with
his key. He stepped in and saw me standing nervously by the opposite wall.

"Hey," he greeted me. So unlike Scotty again, I thought.

He took his shades off and looked around, surprised. Then his face broke
into a huge grin.

"Holy fuck! You've cleared up my place!"

I blushed.

"Well, I had nothing better to do."

"Thanks, man! I really needed that, this place was turning into a fucking
shithole," he laughed.

"You're welcome, Cooper. But can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"What's all this laundry about? Is your washing machine fucked up or
something?"

He chuckled at my question.

"No. I'm just having a battle of wills with my mom."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. My parents bought me the Jeep when I turned seventeen. But then my
mom got the idea that because I'm old enough to have a car I should start
doing my own laundry."

"And you didn't agree?"

"No fucking way, man. I already promised to clean this place myself when
they finally agreed to let me move here. She got that laundry idea in her
stupid head afterwards, we didn't agree on that."

I had to laugh at his determination.

"Well, aren't you running out of clean clothes?"

He frowned.

"Yeah. I think I've got one pair of clean boxers left, and then I gotta
start buying new."

Suddenly an idea flashed through my mind. I saw a way to spend some extra
time with the boy I adored.

"Well, I guess you have to. Unless... unless you find someone to help you
with that," I said slowly, nodding towards the bags in the corner.

It took him less than a second to figure out what I was implying. He gave
me an irresistible smile, looking into my eyes.

"You would do that for me?"

I shrugged.

"Sure, it's no big deal. For a while at least, until you get things sorted
out with your mom."

"You just saved my ass, man!"

Well, I'd love to kiss it too, I thought.

"The laundry room is behind the garage. How about you start the first load
while I take a shower, and then you can, you know..."

"Give you some head?" I helped him.

He grinned, his face still flushed from the day's efforts.

"Yeah."

I stood still a while, admiring his lean body. I could smell his sweat.

"How about taking the shower *after* I've taken care of you?"

He looked puzzled.

"You don't want me to..."

"No. Please."

He finally got it and gave me a shit-eating grin.

"Well, suit yourself, then. Now go fire up the fucking washing-machine."

I picked up the bag containing Cooper's colored laundry.

"Can you show me how to use it?" I asked.

He chuckled.

"Fuck no. I've never touched it. I don't do laundry."

I carried the bag around the garage and found the laundry room with large
washer and dryer machines. I sprinkled detergent in the washer and loaded
Cooper's socks, boxers and shirts into the drum. Clear instructions were
fixed on the machine, so I had no trouble figuring out the right settings.
I pushed a red button, and the machine started purring.

I hurried back to Cooper's place and found him lounging on a deck chair,
slurping a soda. He smiled as he saw me.

"Come in and close the blinds," he said and stood up.

I followed him in and closed the blinds. The room became dim again, but I
turned the lights on. I was there to pleasure Cooper, but I felt entitled
to see him while I was doing it.

I stepped right in front of him. He had a slight expecting smile on his
handsome face. I looked straight into his dark eyes.

"You ripped my t-shirt last time," I said.

He seemed amused by my sudden boldness.

"Yeah, I guess I did. I'll buy you a new one."

"How about giving me one of yours?"

"Sure, if that's what you want. Pick any you like."

I couldn't help smiling.

"I want this one," I said, poking his chest lightly with my finger.

He laughed.

"Then you have to take it."

That was the go-ahead I had been waiting to hear from the minute he invited
me to come over.

I pulled the hem of the shirt out of his tight jeans and started to roll it
slowly up, exposing his trim upper body. The shirt felt moist in my
fingers, and the smell of his body odor grew stronger in my nostrils as I
revealed more and more of his tanned skin.

Cooper raised his arms so I could pull the shirt completely off. I resisted
the temptation to push my face into his shaven armpit, as I wasn't sure he
would appreciate that. Instead, I leaned closer to inhale the cocktail of
skater boy sweat, deodorant and testosterones.

I folded the t-shirt carefully and placed it on an armchair. Then I stepped
back and took a while to admire the young masterpiece of nature's creative
work in front of me. Cooper's cocky smile told me that my adoring gaze
flattered him.

"Like what you see?"

"Yeah. Very much."

"Scotty told me you snatched his dirty boxers and socks. What are you gonna
do with my shirt? Sniff it and jerk off?"

I felt my face turn red, but I answered defiantly:

"Yes."

He laughed. It wasn't a malicious laugh, he was genuinely amused.

"Fucking sicko," he said, and moved right in front of me, real close. I
could feel his breath on my face.

I had to lift my gaze to meet the eyes of the taller boy. He stared at me
for a long time. I could see in his eyes that the rough side of him was
taking over again. He was still smiling, but the amusement was fading away,
replaced by a smile of lust and knowledge. Knowledge that another boy was
just waiting for his permission to start pleasing him. He was horny and
expected service.

"On your knees, homo," Cooper said. His voice was soft but firm.

I complied and sunk on my knees at his feet, looking him in the eyes all
the time.

He grabbed my neck with his strong hand and pulled my face on his crotch.
The denim smelled of dirt – and Cooper. I could feel his cock pulsing
inside the tight jeans. My lips were pressed on the cotton that was hiding
his manhood from me.

"You love this, don't you, faggot?" he snarled, grinding my face into his
scrotum.

"Yeaww," I muttered to the microphone that was growing hard against my lips.

I didn't mind the name-calling. It was just a part of his arousal, a macho
power-trip meant to remind me of his superiority as a man. For me it was a
sign he was enjoying my services.

"Open my jeans, boy."

I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, revealing white AE boxers.

"Take my hose out and give it a kiss," he ordered.

I lowered his boxers, revealing first a neatly trimmed black rectangle of
pubes and then the cum-gun that I had already once pleasured.

I took his cock gently between my fingers and placed a wet kiss on the hot
skin.

"Lick it."

I started to lick his shaft slowly from the root to the knob. Cooper let
out a sigh of pleasure, as my tongue washed the day's sweat off his teen
rod.

"Lick my balls."

I pulled his boxers further down so I could free his pouch. His ballsack
was smooth-shaven, so my tongue made nice contact with his skin. I licked
his balls gently; careful not to miss a spot, as I knew he enjoyed that.

"Enough. Open up," he said, squeezing my jaw with his fingers.

I opened my mouth wide and Cooper guided his cock inside. He started to
buck his hips immediately. His movements were gentle at first, but he got
gradually rougher, holding my head in place with his hands and pushing his
cock deeper in my mouth with every thrust.

I didn't try to fight back, on the contrary. I wrapped my arms around his
waist and slid my fingers inside the back-pockets of his jeans, feeling his
tight buttocks and pulling him closer in pace with his fucking. My lips
were wrapped tight around his shaft, but they were well lubricated with my
spit and his precum, so his gun slid easily in and out.

He continued the skull-fucking for a few minutes. Then he grabbed my arm.

"Get up."

This time I knew I had to be quick in order to keep my shirt intact. I got
up and he dragged me in front of the couch. He shoved me and I fell down on
my butt on the couch.

Cooper straddled me, holding his cock in front my face. He didn't have to
tell me to open up, as I was already waiting for him, my mouth wide open.
He pushed his cock inside and started to bang my face again. Now that my
head was pinned against the the couch, he didn't need his hands to keep me
in place, so he leaned against the backrest to gain more power to his
fucking. When he pushed in, the small skateboard tattooed on his abdomen
seemed to be attacking my face.

He gave me a pretty rough ride. My new position was uncomfortable, of
course, but it also gave me a better possibility to feel Cooper's sweaty
back and hard-working butt muscles with my hands. He's wearing Levi's, I
suddenly discovered when my finger met the small label slip on the inner
side of his right back-pocket.

Cooper's hard abdomen pressed my head hard against the back of the couch
every time he pushed in and the zipper of his jeans scratched my cheek. But
that was a just a part of being his cocksucker, and I wasn't going to
complain.

I did what I could to help him reach his climax. I kept my lips wrapped
tight around his cock and caressed it with my tongue as it pumped back and
forth in my mouth.

"I'm cumming, take it faggot," he finally declared and emptied his load
into my mouth. His cum was warm and slimy and I was glad to get it in my
mouth again. I liked the tinge of lime in his sperm even more than the
first time. I swallowed every drop of Cooper's cum, wiped my mouth and
leaned closer.

"Thanks," I said and kissed his softening young schlong.

"Thanks? You're something else," he laughed, still panting.

He stepped down from the couch and stuffed his package into his boxers.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"I can get a bit rough when I'm horny. But that's just the way it is."

"That's the way it is," I confirmed and stood clumsily up.

Cooper smirked when he noticed the bulge in my shorts. He pointed it with
his finger.

"You better finish my wash so you can rush home to take care of that," he
said. He pulled his jeans and boxers down and threw them on the bedroom
floor next to his bed.

I went to the bathroom to wash Cooper's cum off my face. Then I limped to
the laundry room, covering my hard-on with my hand in case someone was
watching me. I opened the washer and loaded everything in to the dryer. The
timer told me it would take about an hour to dry the clothes.

I went back to Cooper's crib and found him freshly showered. He was
toweling his hair in front of a mirror with his back to me. I stood still
and admired the strong muscles moving under his tanned skin. His white
bubble buttocks quivered under his V-shaped torso.

"I could clean your bathroom now," I said.

"Yeah, whatever," he said absentmindedly to the mirror, inspecting
something on his chin.

It took me the best part of an hour to scrub the wash basin, the toilet
bowl and the floor tiles. When I was done, I was tired and my knees were
hurting from cleaning the floor on all fours, but I felt proud of my
achievement. Cooper's bathroom sparkled.

I peeked into the bedroom to tell him I was done. He was lying on his back
on the bed, dressed only in a pair of white Diesel boxers, his hands behind
his head. He had his earphones on, but his eyes were closed, so I didn't
know if he was awake. I decided not to disturb him and went back to the
laundry room to get his gear.

I unloaded the warm clothes from the dryer into a large laundry basket. I
saw a flat iron on a shelf and decided to give Cooper's shirts and t-shirts
quick ironing. As an extra gesture I ironed his boxers too and folded them
together with his paired socks into the basket on top of the shirts. I
carried the basket into his crib. I hung the shirts on hangers on his
walk-in closet and arranged the boxers and socks into a dresser. My day's
work was done.

I picked up the t-shirt Cooper gave me and was just about to sneak out
quietly, when his voice stopped me.

"Wait. Come here."

I turned around on my heels and went to the bedroom. Cooper was still lying
on his bed. He reached down with his left hand to pick his dirty boxers
from the floor.

He threw them to me and I caught them mid-air.

"This is for cleaning my crib and doing my laundry."

"Thanks, Cooper," I said, beaming.

"You want me to come over next weekend?"

"I'll let you know."

Comments welcome!

bencoolen1212@yahoo.com