Date: Thu, 20 Apr 2000 09:16:24 CDT
From: Tim Foure <timfoure@hotmail.com>
Subject: New Story: "Summer of My 15th Year" 28 (adult-youth) (incest)

The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 28

by Tim Foure

copyright 2000

If you are under 18 or not permitted access to homosexual erotica
where you live, then you should not read this story. The other
usual disclaimers too.
___________


Chapter 28

The dinner went better than anyone could have expected. It was a
little awkward at first, and I had to stifle a tendency to act as
if I was showing Phil off to my parents like some kind of a
talking bird. But once Phil praised my Dad's paintings and my Dad
found out he had seen every one currently in the house at his own
request, things warmed up nicely. A secondary benefit from that
same discovery was my parents' realization that Phil must have
spent quite a bit of time here with me. Fortunately, they
misunderstood the motive behind it and took it instead as a
reason to believe it would not be a trial to Phil to have me
spend time with him in the future. From time to time I would have
liked to have strangled Phil when he spoke of me as if I were a
child who needed to be looked after, but he apparently judged
doing so would appeal to my mother, which it did. As Phil left,
my mother told him she didn't believe he knew what he was getting
himself into by letting me become his computer teacher and he
should just send me home when he had enough of me. Phil replied
he believed he did know what he was getting into, but when he had
had enough, he would send me on my way. As he turned away from
them to leave, he gave me a look out of the corner of his eye
that told me just what he was thinking. It was all I could do not
to burst out laughing.

Ted did burst out laughing when I told him in chat a few minutes
later, and so did Brian. I caught them between sucking each other
off and going to sleep. "You're getting really good at this,
Sport," he told me. "I couldn't have managed them better myself!"

But however many other things were falling into place, we
continued to have a problem with Phil's lack of the computer on
which to pin an excuse. Each night Phil and I talked on the phone
for a few minutes, ending our conversations with the shared wish
that the next day would see the arrival of the computer. And each
day we were disappointed. But when Saturday came again, we
managed to spend most of the day together at Phil's apartment.
All I wanted was to have him inside of me as we moved very slowly
toward an orgasm. When I thought about it later, I decided I was
no different than Del had been on New Year's Eve because of my
shameless desire to have Phil's dick in me all the time.

That Saturday was also the beginning of my spring break which
meant I would be home in the mornings for the next week.
Beginning on Monday and continuing through the week, Phil made
the dream house his first stop. We had planned for him to come
when I told him that Dad would be at the gym. On two of the days
he actually had things to deliver, but the other three were
purely for sex. Since he couldn't stay long, only one of us came
each day, beginning with him at my insistence. On Monday,
Wednesday, and Friday of that week we both rushed to get his
pants and underwear out of the way and I sucked him off on my
knees. On Tuesday and Thursday he lifted me onto the counter and
sucked me off with my legs over his shoulders. Each time he
rimmed me for a short while and slid his finger into me to rub my
prostate as he sucked my dick, which brought me off very quickly.

And as I had told each of my customers would happen, the grass
suddenly began to grow. Starting that week, I had to mow an
average of five lawns each day. It took me longer to do than it
had in the fall because the grass was thick and full of sap.
Luckily the weather was dry enough every afternoon for me to mow,
the rain having been light in the morning or having come during
the night on the two rainy days.

On Thursday Phil's computer finally came.

My original plan had been to get my mowing done and spend
Saturday all day with him. When he called on Thursday night to
tell me he had gotten it, I changed my plan. I told him I was
going to try to spend the night with him on Friday. Then I
tackled my Dad, who happened to be watching television rather
than working in his studio. Otherwise I suppose I could have
slowly gone crazy from anxiety as I waited by the door for him to
come out. I knew better than to go in.

"Phil's computer finally came," I told him.

"I'll bet he's glad. He seemed very anxious to have it when he
was here for dinner."

"I told him I'd come over tomorrow after dinner and help him set
it up."

"That's fine."

"Yeah, it's a good thing it's Saturday the next day because it'll
probably take a long time." I felt safe telling that lie since it
would probably have taken my Dad several days to figure out how
to get it out of the box. Mom would have seen through the lie
immediately.

"Ok," he said. Then he apparently reconsidered. "No, just a
second. It'll already be dark after dinner. How late are you
thinking you'll be?"

"Eleven. Just my usual curfew." I was allowed to stay out until
eleven on Friday and Saturday nights. I waited to see his
reaction. I was prepared to work to get one out of him if he
didn't react on his own.

"I don't know if it's a good idea for you to come home on your
bike late at night like that."

In fact I had never come home very much after dark on my bicycle.
Neither Mom nor Dad had liked the idea of me riding on the road
to our house at night. I had always been picked up or brought
home when I was out late.

"I guess I could ask Phil to drive me home," I said in a tone of
voice that suggested I didn't much want to do it.

"I don't suppose that would be too unreasonable. After all,
you'll be there to do something for him." But there was some
doubt in his voice. It wasn't something he would have wanted to
do himself in the same circumstances. He'd rather just not have
the help.

"Maybe I could just stay over at his place," I responded with a
smile and a lot of enthusiasm. I thought I might as well drop the
bomb and see what the reaction was. If he agreed to my staying
once, it would be a dead issue in the future. I could just
announce my plan to stay over almost whenever I wanted to.

"I don't think you could do that," he said, but something about
the way he said it suggested to me he wouldn't have a good
explanation of why not if I asked.

"I could ask him." I jumped up as if I was going to go do it.

"That'll just put him on the spot. He'll feel he's stuck whether
he wants you to stay or not."

"I dunno. He stayed here a long time after the blizzard when he
didn't have to. I thought we got along real well. I bet it would
be ok with him." Since Dad had even considered the possibility, I
knew for sure it was going to happen.

"Well, I suppose. Call him and see. No, wait. Maybe it would be
better if I called him so he could say no if he wanted to."

I could just hear Dad talking Phil out of it. By the time Dad
finished analyzing it, the subject would be dead. "No, that's
alright. I'll call!" I was gone before he could say anything
else.

I called Phil and told him.

"Well, you'll be too late to help me set it up. I already did it.
All you had to do was take it out of the box and plug it in."

"Guess you'll just have to plug something else in tomorrow night
then."

"Ho ho. Very funny. But I like the way your mind works. When we
get off the phone I'm gonna send you an email. I already logged
on to the ISP once and that worked. I got to figure out how to
get rid of call waiting because that's what cut me off. I saw it
in this book somewhere."

"Ok, I'll look for the email. See you in the morning."

Dad was convinced I had trapped Phil into letting me stay. "You
always seem to get what you want," he told me. I told him I was
sure I hadn't and he could call Phil himself to check if he
didn't believe me. He decided to take my word for it, that being
the path of least resistence.

Shortly afterward I got a call from Steve. He wanted to make sure
we had a firm deal about my cutting his grass. "It's ankle deep
already!" he told me.

"I'm gonna cut yours tomorrow," I told him.

"Any chance you could make it Saturday instead? I'd like to talk
to you about some of the plans for my house and see what you'll
be able to help me with. We're on spring break next week and I
want to get started on it."

"I'm on break this week, but my brother's break is next week too.
It's been too wet to mow in the mornings. Could I do it in the
afternoon?" I was thinking the later I could meet with Steve, the
longer I could stay with Phil.

"How about you come over and have lunch with me and we'll talk
about it afterwards?"

"Is one o'clock ok?" In my mind, lunch happened at noon or
before. Lunch at school was at eleven-thirty, and I don't believe
I had ever eaten later than twelve in my life except during some
sort of emergency. I was prepared to hear him say he wanted to
make it earlier.

"Sounds great. I'll see you then."

I was checking my email while I spoke to him. There was one from
Phil that simply said, "Hi!" I replied to it with a suggestion he
had better not stay up too late playing with his computer because
he was going to need his energy first thing in the morning. Then
I paged Ted, who responded immediately.

"Hey, Sport! How goes it?"

"Great here!" I told him what I had arranged for the next night.

"I knew you could do it. I swear you're better at handling Dad
than I am. Listen, Brian's coming home with me Saturday. Cheryl
has to stay here for some sorority thing on Sunday night, so
Charlie's gonna stay with her and drive her home on Monday. It's
not real far out of their way to come by our house and pick up
Brian. I told Charlie it was the least he could do considering
how many times Brian moved out of their room so he could fuck
Cheryl. I reminded him about the trouble he caused when you were
visiting too. So Brian's staying with us Saturday and Sunday
nights."

"That's great too!" I told him.

"I'm kinda counting on you to be around Saturday night. I feel
like I owe it to Del to go see him since his birthday was this
week. But I don't want to just dump Brian."

"No problem. I wasn't doing anything Saturday night anyhow. It'll
be great to have it just be me and Brian. 'Course Dad'll be here
too, but you know what I mean."

"Nobody knows where Dad is even when he's there!"

"The truth! You know what? He lost the pants to the suit he took
on his last trip. And one sock out of each pair. Mom had a fit
over the pants."

"He's lucky she's so sure of him. Losing your pants might make
some women think you were being unfaithful."

"Yeah, I don't think Mom's got anything to worry about there.
They got noisy when they were having sex the last time she was
home. I never heard Mom scream like that before."

"Hehe, still lots of fire left in the old folks!"

When I logged off, I got to thinking what a busy weekend I was
going to have.

On Friday night I got the long slow fuck I had been wanting. It
wasn't as if I had been starved for sex during the week since in
addition to seeing Phil in the mornings, I had been able to meet
with at least a part of the foursome every day before I mowed.
But somehow long slow sex with Phil was more satisfying, and it
wasn't just because I liked being fucked better than the other
kinds of sex I was having. I really liked Phil himself quite a
lot. I thought he might feel the same way when he told me and
showed me how much he had missed me when I arrived.

I did actually teach him a few things about using his computer,
but he had already figured out all of the basics by himself. We
spent very little time on the computer. Most of the rest we spent
working up to have sex, having it, or enjoying the afterglow. I
would guess we were in some sort of physical contact all of the
time we were awake. I hated to have to leave on Saturday, but
Phil made it easier for me by telling me he had to help his
mother out that afternoon and would be gone overnight.

"And work's gotta come first," he told me. "If you agreed to do
some work for this guy, then you have to do it."

Since I hadn't been or even looked outside since I had arrived at
Phil's the night before, I was surprised to see how cloudy it had
become. I rushed to Boomer's to get the mower and then to
Steve's, urging the mower to go faster than its top speed. If it
had been up to me, I would have cut his grass as soon as I got
there, but he had lunch ready when I arrived. We talked a little
as we ate, some about his house but more about me and how the
mowing was going. He knew this was my first year to take it on
from the beginning. At first the conversation had been a little
awkward, but by the end of the meal we were as comfortable with
each other as we had been after his lunch at the dream house.

As soon as we finished eating, I told him I'd better mow right
away because I was afraid it was going to start raining. He
agreed that was a good idea. I ran out the door before he even
got up from the breakfast bar. A light rain began to fall as I
finished cutting the grass. It soaked me through while I did the
trimming.

When I was finished, I knocked on the kitchen door. Steve opened
it and I told him I was too wet and dirty to come in. All of my
clothes were wet and my shoes and the bottom half of my pants
legs were covered with grass from the trimmer. I had discovered
that week that clippings of the lush spring grass tended to stick
wherever they landed.

"Slip your shoes off and leave them on the porch. Then come in
and stay here by the door."

He left the room as I was taking off my shoes. I came in, staying
as close to the door as I could. When the rain started, the
temperature had dropped too. It was very warm inside the house,
and the heat felt good. I hadn't realized how cold I had gotten
until I came inside.

When he returned, he had a towel and some other things in his
hand. He gave me the towel. "I was going to say take your wet
clothes off and I'd put them in the dryer, but your pants are
covered with grass. They really need to be washed. And you're
shivering too. Why don't you give me your pants and I'll throw
them in the washer. You can take a shower and that'll warm you
up. I'll come get the rest of your clothes after you get in the
shower. Here's a pair of shorts and a shirt you can wear while
you wait for your clothes to dry." He held them out to show them
to me but didn't hand them over. I suppose if he had, they would
have been neither clean nor dry in short order.

The shower sounded good to me since I was actually shivering. And
I was already shedding grass onto his clean floor, so I knew I
couldn't walk around the house with him in the clothes I was
wearing. The only problem was I wasn't wearing underpants.
Neither Ted nor I ever did when we mowed. When I took off my
pants, I would be naked from the waist down. Being naked alone as
I was so much of the time at home or in front of someone I knew
no longer bothered me. Ted had thoroughly beaten down that
particular inhibition. Being naked in front of a stranger was
another matter altogether.

But I couldn't think of any alternative. I took my pants off and
handed them to him. I had been afraid I would get hard but
actually I was having the opposite problem. The cold had caused
my dick to shrink down to its minimum size. All that showed was
the head. The rest had retreated inside of my body trying to get
warm. I was almost more embarrassed about that than I would have
been if I had had a hardon.

When I finished with my shower, the wet shirt, undershirt, and
socks I had left on the floor of the bathroom were gone. The
clothes Steve had been holding weren't there either. I wrapped
the towel around my waist and went into the bedroom where I saw a
pair of shorts and an athletic shirt laying on the bed. The
shorts were a loose fit, but not nearly as loose as my Dad's
boxers had been on Phil. They were nylon running shorts with
built-in briefs. These stayed up on me of their own accord. The
shirt was another matter, being at least half again as big as it
needed to be to fit me. I had worked with Ted's weights since he
bought them to develop my chest and shoulders and had gotten some
results, but it was more in definition than bulk. I realized that
Steve was wearing the same type of outfit, and he did have the
bulk to fill out the shirt. I carried the towel with me as I went
back to the kitchen.

"I made some coffee. I thought that would help warm you up,"
Steve told me.

"Thanks. It will. Where do you want me to put the towel?"

Steve took the towel and put it in the laundry room. I could hear
the washer running.

As I sipped the coffee, I told him, "This is great. I'm not cold
any more at all." In fact, I was becoming too warm. It was very
warm inside the house, and the first swallow of hot coffee caused
me to flush.

"Good," he said. "But you know, that shirt looks like it belongs
to your big brother." He smiled at me as he said it, the same
smile I had thought made him look so handsome the day he came to
the house.

"I don't think it would actually fit Ted much better," I told
him. On me it was a joke. One strap was on my shoulder, but the
other had dropped off and was hanging around my elbow. Since it
was proportionally as long as it was wide, I was bare almost to
the middle of my belly and covered completely from there to just
above my knees. "I think I'm just gonna take it off. I'm warmed
up now." And so I did.

"You've got pretty good muscle definition for somebody your age.
You're fourteen, right? You must work out. I know you sure didn't
inherit it from your dad."

I laughed. "Thanks. I won't tell him you said that."

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way!" He laughed and looked
embarrassed. "I just meant that he has to work for his muscles. I
see him doing it five mornings a week. He's lost a lot of
weight."

"You're right about me working out. My brother has a set of
weights he left behind when he went to college. I been using
them."

"Make a muscle for me," he said as he came around the counter to
stand beside me.

I imitated a goal post, standing in what I thought of as the
standard weightlifter pose. He startled me by running his hand
over my upper arms, shoulders, chest, and belly. It felt very
good. My dick responded immediately by pushing against the
confines of the shorts' supporter. I tried to will myself not to
get any harder while hoping that the looseness of the outer layer
of the shorts would hide my dick's increased size.

"You're pretty solid," he said as he took his hands off of me.
"Not much bulk there, which is normal for your age, but good
definition. You keep up the exercises and you'll have yourself a
good body in a few more years." He began to take off his shirt.

"Thanks," I told him. I couldn't help staring at him. I had been
able to see his arms and shoulders from the time I arrived, and I
got glimpses of his legs as he walked around the kitchen, but
between my having literally come straight out of Phil's bed and
mouth, my anxiety over whether it would rain before I could cut
Steve's grass, and my chilled state when I came in after mowing,
I hadn't given his body any thought. Now I was making up for lost
time. And it was making it very difficult not to get hard.

Steve had an athlete's body, not a weightlifter's. There was good
muscle tone, good definition, and good proportion. What bulk he
had did not suggest immobile power, but usable strength instead.
And he didn't have a hair on his body below his neck that I could
see, which was all of it except for what was covered by the same
type of shorts he had given me to wear. On him they seemed
skimpy, particularly at his crotch where I could see the thick
tubular shape of his dick lying off to the left with a suggestion
of the roundness of his balls at its base. I remembered Phil
saying he had once shaved off his body hair and wondered if
Steve's hairlessness was also the result of shaving. I knew
swimmers often shaved their bodies for speed, and I had heard
weightlifters did it too to show off their muscles. But Steve
didn't really have a big body like the weightlifters I had seen
on television. He was just larger than me because he was built on
a different scale than I was. He was easily six inches taller
than me.

I realized I was staring at his body. I forced my eyes to his
face.

When I did, he spoke. "I've been working on developing my body
for quite a while now. I've got like this ideal I'm working
toward. Here lately I've been working on my abs. Feel."

With that he jerked his shorts down, revealing his pubic bush
topped by a narrow treasure trail which disappeared before it
reached his navel. The first thought that went through my mind
was if he pushed them down another inch, I'd be able to see the
base of his dick. That was all it took for my dick to shoot up. I
decided there was nothing I could do about it, so I just ignored
it, hoping Steve wouldn't notice it. Responding to his
invitation, I brushed my hand lightly over his belly.

"No, get a good feel!" he told me. He grabbed my hand and pressed
it firmly against his body just below his pecs. He told me, "Feel
the definition," as he moved my hand slowly down one side of his
abs. I could feel the muscles against my palm and fingers. I
outlined them with my fingertips. I expected him to stop when he
reached the level of his navel, but he pushed my hand right to
the top of his pubic bush, across his lower belly, and up his abs
on the other side. My dick was throbbing in my shorts. He
released my hand when it reached his pecs. He also released the
waistband of his shorts, which moved back up only fractionally.

I noticed that his dick was filling the pouch that had been
created when he pushed the shorts down. It was clearly pushing
against the fabric which had no body to speak of. I thought I
could even see the outline of the head. I wondered if he was hard
too.

"I'm nearly where I want to be. Just a little more work." He made
a goal post. "Feel my arms and shoulders.

Since it had been made clear to me I was expected to feel with
some thoroughness, I did. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

"I started on my arms. I guess everybody does. But then I got
into a program that emphasized balanced development. Now I do
maintenance on the rest of my body while I concentrate for a
while on one set of muscles. I work through them all on a regular
basis that way. I did my legs right before I started on my abs.
Feel."

I squatted and ran my hands up and down his legs. His dick was
still filling the pouch in his shorts, and it was right in front
of my face. I decided that it was certainly substantial in bulk
itself if he didn't actually have a hardon. I tried hard not to
stare at it. As I felt his legs, I moved my hands right up to the
crease of his legs so the backs of my hands were actually
brushing his balls if not his dick itself. I wondered what he
would do it I decided to feel the development of that particular
muscle.

I also thought Phil could match him muscle for muscle there. Phil
had great legs. And a great dick.

When I stood up, he pulled up his shorts and bounced his dick and
balls a few times with his hand to settle them into the
supporting liner. When he was finished, they looked just as they
had before he showed me his abs. I considered doing the same
thing, but my dick was rock hard and pointing up my belly. If I
jiggled it very much, I might easily cum.

I decided after having touched so much of his body that he must
be naturally hairless. I thought if he had shaved his body hair
off, I ought to have felt stubble somewhere even if he had just
done it. And there was none anywhere I had touched. I thought
again about Phil's wish that he didn't have all the body hair he
had.

While my mind was in my crotch, the look on Steve's face
suggested the tour of his body he gave me was motivated only by
pride in his accomplishment and open friendship, not seduction. I
decided he had no ulterior motive in showing me his muscles or in
feeling mine.

"I don't think my Dad's going to come out of his exercise program
with a body like yours," I said.

He gave me that shy smile, turning and bowing his head and
seeming to look up at me as the smile spread down his face and
culminated in a display of very white teeth. "I don't either. But
I don't think that's what he's trying for."

"No, he just wants not to die." I told him about Dad's agent, who
was recovering well.

"He's smart for getting off his butt and doing something about
it."

"True. But I bet it wouldn't bother Mom one bit if he was wearing
your body the next time she came home."

We both laughed over that. I wondered if he would put his shirt
back on, but he draped it over the back of the bar stool instead.

The noise of the washer's spin cycle stopped just as we finished
talking about workouts. He ducked into the laundry room. I heard
some banging as the washer was opened and the dryer door closed.
This was followed by the sound of the dryer starting.

When he came back, we started to talk about his house. He had
already had the kitchen and bathrooms redone. "I've never done
plumbing anyhow, and the house wasn't fit to be lived in when I
inherited it," he told me. "I really couldn't have lived here if
I hadn't had them replaced."

The house consisted of six rooms in two rows of three running
side to side. There was a porch on all four sides. The peaked
roof enclosed an attic, suitable for storage but not for
conversion into living space. The original bathroom had been
where the laundry room was now. The new bathrooms had been built
in the center bedroom. One opened into each of the remaining
bedrooms, and the one in Steve's bedroom also opened onto the
porch. The rest of the house was a wreck. It was just barely
livable.

"What are all these holes in the walls?" I asked. There were
round holes about six inches across near the ceiling along all of
the outside walls. They were patched with a variety of
substances.

"I had to have insulation blown in the walls. I almost froze when
I first moved in. And the heating bill! The wind blew through
here like there was a window open."

"Won't you lose all of that when you start tearing out the
paneling?" All of the rooms which still had their original walls
were paneled in the same tongue-and-grove wood strips as the
dream house had been, but it was clear from their damaged
condition that they would have to be replaced. When we had taken
over the parts of the porch adjacent to the kitchen and Dad's
studio, the insulation had poured out of the ceiling and much of
it had blown away.

"Sure will, but it can't be helped. It was cheaper to do that
than to live someplace else until the interior was finished. Or
to pay the heating bill if I left the house the way it was."

He told me his plans as we walked around. The porch along the
front of the house would remain a porch, as would part of the
porch behind his bedroom, but the remainder would be incorporated
into the adjacent rooms in one way or another. This process had
already begun with the extension of the bathrooms.

When we returned to the middle room which he intended to make his
living room, I asked him, "What do you want my help with."

"Well, depends on what you know how to do or are willing to
learn. The wiring has to all be replaced. I'm going to pull off
as much of the paneling as I have to and get that done next. Then
later all the rest of paneling'll have to be pulled. Can you hang
sheetrock?"

"Yeah, I can. I've finished seams on sheetrock before. I saw the
guys putting it up. I know I can do that. And I can paint."

"It all has to be painted. Or maybe I'll put up wallpaper. But
that's a long way off. I'll have to decide about that. And I want
to put up a fence in the yard by my bedroom so I can have a hot
tub. Most of the land I own is in the back and over on that side
of the house. It's about seven acres. But I'd feel better with a
fence there for privacy."

"What're you gonna do when?"

"Wiring first. I keep thinking every night I'll wake up and
there'll be an electrical fire. I can work next week when I'm off
pulling down the paneling that has to go for that. Then I'll have
to wait until the electrician decides to come. You know how that
is."

"Yeah, sure do." Ted was driven to distraction during the
construction of the dream house when people didn't show up as
they were scheduled to.

"Then next I'd really like to strip out the paneling so I can
replace the insulation. Then I'll be able to afford to air
condition the place. I can do some of that every weekend. I
already learned I can't do enough to matter when I get home from
work during the week."

"I guess I really won't be able to do any work until school lets
out," I told him. "I can just get my mowing done now. But when
school's out, I'll have plenty of time.

"That's ok. It'll probably be that long before I have anything
I'll need you to help me with. Maybe we can start with the fence
when you get out of school. That's really the first two-man job I
want to get into."

And so we were agreed that I would begin working with him after
school ended for the year.

The rain had continued to fall and the temperature to drop while
we were talking. When we saw that, Steve said, "You can just
leave your mower and everything else here and get it whenever you
want it. If you try to drive it home, you'll get soaked."

I had pulled the mower under the end of his carport and had piled
the trimmer and other things into the cart I pulled behind it.
"You sure it won't be in your way there?"

"Yeah, no problem at all."

"I guess I better head on home then."

"Oh, I'll get your clothes."

I followed him to the laundry room. "I'll pull on some clothes
and drive you home," Steve said as he pulled my clothes out of
his dryer.

"I hate for you to have to do that."

"I think your other choice is to swim," he said with that smile.

"My brother's coming home from college today. It's his spring
break. He'd come get me if he's here. Let me call and see if he's
home first."

"Sure thing. Be there in ten 'r fifteen minutes," Ted said when I
asked.

While we waited, I changed clothes. I was still shy about being
naked in front of Steve, so I turned my back to him as I changed
from shorts to kiddie pants. It was a good thing I had since the
embarrassment had the usual effect of giving me a good start on a
hardon.

"Will you mow my yard again next Saturday?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, probably. I like to do everyone's yard on the same day
each week so it stays neat looking. Depends on the weather
though."

"Well, if you do, I could fix you lunch again."

I thought about Phil and wondered whether doing that would cut
down on my time with him. But he had told me that work has to
come first. "Yeah, that would be great," I told him.

"Call me on Friday if it looks like you won't be able to mow.
Otherwise we'll have lunch at one o'clock, ok?"

"Deal," I told him just as I heard a horn blow outside.

"There's Ted," I said. And I remembered my manners. "Thanks for
lunch. It was really good."

"I enjoyed talking to you. I'll look forward to next Saturday."

Steve shook my hand as I left. I reacted immediately when he put
his hand out. I had learned.

Ted had pulled in beside Steve's car in the carport, which was
connected to the house, so I was able to get into the car without
getting wet. Steve stood in the doorway and waved as we left.

"Wow, he looks like a hunk!" Ted said.

"Yeah, he works out."

"Hope you and him didn't spend all afternoon messin' around.
Brian's got big plans for you two tonight."

"Nope, sure didn't. I spent all morning messing around with Phil
though. You make tonight with Brian sound like a weekend with
Del."

"No way, Sport! Brian's good for two shots and he's through for
the night. And you only get the second one if there's a long time
in between. It's me whose butt's gonna be draggin' tomorrow."

I gave him as much sympathy as he had given me after my last
weekend with Del.


To be continued
_______________
Comments appreciated. Send them to TimFoure@hotmail.com. Flames
ignored.

Previously posted chapters can be found at www.nifty.org in the
gay male archive, incest category.