Date: Wed, 14 Jun 2000 13:24:00 CDT From: Tim Foure Subject: "Summer of My 15th Year" 34 (adult-youth) (incest) The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 34 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 34 Thursday morning I was at Steve's before 6:30. It was another foggy morning, even foggier than it had been on Monday since it had rained the day before. This time I didn't startle Steve with my arrival. "I'm embarrassed about falling asleep Monday. Not a very good host, was I?" "No problem, really. I'm glad I could make the pain go away so you could go to sleep so easy." "You did that alright. I didn't wake up until nearly five o'clock. I wish you'd let me pay you for that." "No way. I was just helping out a friend." I didn't have any problem with talking to Steve as an equal in spite of his being more than twice my age. "You have to let me pay you back somehow. Do you like having your back rubbed? I could pay you back that way." "Yeah, I do. That'd be great." "I'm not being much of a host now either. Here am I with a cup of coffee and I haven't even offered you one." "That's ok. But I would like one." We went into the kitchen and he poured me a cup and refilled his own. "Mind if we drink it outside? I really like the fog in the morning." "No, I like it too. Out where we are it seems like you're the only people in the world sometimes." "Yeah, it seems like that here too when you can't see any other houses." We stood in the fog drinking our coffee in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Steve said, "You know, I've had quite a few massages, and I think you did a great job. I'm guessing you've never had any training, right?" I shook my head. "You must have a natural talent for it. You went right to the places that hurt and followed the muscles. I've had professional massages that didn't do as much good for me as you did." "I'm glad. I just did what you said and felt where the muscles were." When we finished our coffee, we began by hanging the gate. We had taken such care with the setting of the posts that the gate fit the opening exactly. We thought of that as a good indicator of how the rest of the work would go. Starting at the house again, we began attaching the fencing boards to the two rails. Steve had rented a nail gun to attach the boards, relieving us of having to do much hammering. We discovered almost immediately that the gun would fire a nail like a bullet, so we both handled it carefully. In fact, we might have progressed more rapidly if we hadn't been taking such care with the gun. As it got later, the fog burned off and the temperature rose. It was a warmer day than it had been on Monday, so even though what we were doing wasn't as strenuous, we got hot and stripped off our shirts early on. We alternated jobs as we passed each post, one of us holding the boards in place and the other firing the nails into it. Because of what we were doing, we were touching each other most of the time, and at one place where there was a large bush Steve had to press against my back and put his arms around me or reach between my legs to hold the gun while I held the board in place. My dick was very aware of him the whole time, becoming partially or completely hard from time to time. When we finished just before twelve, we were both dripping wet. "I'm glad to be done with that," Steve told me as we were sitting on the edge of the porch taking off our shoes and socks. "I'd rather do finishing work than this kind of thing." "Doesn't bother me. It's pretty much the same as lawn work. Sweaty and dirty and outside." "Yeah, I guess it is," he said as he stood up. "But with the fence done, I've got the privacy to do this." He pushed down his shorts, stepped out of them, and leaned over to pick them up. When he stood up, he spun them around to emphasize he now had a place out of doors where he didn't have to wear them. I was more than half hard and anticipating a run from the door to the cold shower to hide the fact until I could force it down. Once he had taken off his shorts, though, I felt I ought to do the same. I stood up, gritted my teeth, and pushed them down. I noticed as I stood up with them in my hand that my dick was about as hard as it could get before it would start to stand away from my body, which it seemed to be just about to do. But what helped was Steve never looked at it at all. As Ted had said, he just seemed to be one of those guys who wasn't interested. The same wasn't true of me. I got a very good look at Steve, whose dick was in its normal "at ease" state. "You can have the shower first again," he told me as he took my shorts out of my hand. He was leaning over to pick up our socks and shirts when he added, "This time I'll dry them too so you don't have to carry them home wet." "You don't have to, really. I've got clothes to change into on my bike." "I've got a load ready to go. I'll just add these. I hate to think of them laying there wet and dirty and you having to carry them home that way." Steve was back in the bathroom by the time I finished my shower. I didn't bother with the cold water at the end this time, deciding he had already seen me as near to being hard as I was now and that he probably never noticed anyhow. He dried my back again before handing me the towel and stepping into the shower. I finished drying myself and sat on the toilet lid to wait for him. We were talking off and on about various subjects. When he came out of the shower, I got another look at his dick, which was right below eye level for me. It almost seemed as if the shaft followed the curve of his balls so the plump head lay next to them looking like a half-size relative. When he was dry, I followed him into the bedroom where he opened a drawer and handed me a pair of shorts. Lunch was a tuna salad with hard cooked egg, one of my favorites. We talked about different things, just chatting really, while we ate. Afterwards Steve moved the clothes from the washer to the dryer and we went into the living room. As I started to sit down in the chair where I usually sat, Steve asked, "You want to collect your massage now or wait a while?" My belly was full and I was relaxed. I repeated my next thought out loud, "I might go to sleep on you." He flashed that smile at me and said, "Well, if you do, that'd only be fair anyhow. How long do I let you sleep?" I thought about how much mowing I had planned. "Maybe until three, three thirty." "If it happens, I'll wake you. Stretch out here." I lay on the floor on my belly. The carpet felt softer walking across it than it turned out to be when I lay on it. I shifted a little to get comfortable, aiming my dick upwards so it would have a place to go when the inevitable erection occurred. "Ready?" Steve asked. "Yeah, sure am." He stepped across me and squatted down, ending up on his knees with one leg on either side of me. I felt him settle some of his weight onto my butt. In my mind's eye I saw him on top of me, pressing his butt down on my butt and the insides of his thighs, bare skin to bare skin, against the sides of my belly. And as if that wasn't enough, when he leaned forward slightly to take hold of my shoulders, I imagined it was his balls and the head of his dick that I felt pressing against the small of my back. My dick forced its way upward between my belly and the floor. Steve began by digging his fingers into the muscles of my shoulders. The pain was so intense at first I thought I was going to have to ask him to ease up. My hardon even began to shrivel. I was sure I hadn't used as much force on him. But after a minute or so he eased up and the massage began to become pleasurable. I gave in to it completely, getting hard again, beginning to drift, and thinking I might actually go to sleep. I continued in that state while he worked on my neck, shoulders, and upper arms. Then I felt his hands begin moving down my back, which brought me back from the edge of sleep. I came back to full consciousness just in time to hear him say, "Lift up." He was tugging on the waistband of my shorts. I realized he wasn't sitting over my butt any longer. I lifted my middle off the floor and felt him slide my shorts down over my butt. I felt them move down in the front too, coming to a halt when the waistband caught against the base of my hard dick. I guessed that my whole butt was exposed and found out I was correct when I felt his hands slide over it. There was little danger I'd go to sleep now. Steve had moved down to straddle my thighs and continued with the massage. But instead of digging his fingers in deeply, he was now rubbing in long, firm strokes from the top of my butt cheeks all the way to my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the muscles and squeezing my sides with all of his fingers. It felt terrific. His hands moved from there to my butt itself, kneading the muscles in my cheeks. "Squatting is hard on these muscles and your legs," he told me by way of explanation of what he was doing. We had had to squat quite a lot to hold and nail the boards to the bottom rail. When he spread my legs and moved between them, I expected him to push my shorts back up to my waist, but he only pushed them up part way. He slid his hands inside them as he worked on the muscles of my thighs. It was all I could do not to squirm as the balls of his thumbs traveled up the insides of my thighs and along the sides of my crack to the small of my back. I felt his forearms slide against me as his hands reached the upper end of their journey, no doubt pulled down by the constricting leg holes of the shorts. When he got to my feet, he told me to turn over. I knew my hardon was being held sideways, trapped by the waistband of the shorts. I didn't know what would happen when I rolled over, but I thought there was a chance it would spring free. However, there didn't seem to be any way of dealing with it, and I decided I oughtn't worry about it anyhow. Much to my surprise, my dick stayed inside the shorts when I rolled onto my back. I lifted my head for a look before I settled, and I saw it was making a small tent of the loose pouch created when Steve had pushed the legs of the shorts upward while working on the backs of my thighs. There was a considerable wet spot at the end. And there was no chance that it wouldn't just stay hard since he moved to straddle my hips and let some of his weight down onto the very place where my dick was lying. He had to feel it pressing into the inside of his thigh, but he ignored it completely as he massaged my upper body. My dick, however, was very much aware of the movements of his body over me. When he began to slide down onto my thighs, pulling my shorts down a little as he did, it took the opportunity to pop out from under the waistband and lie up my belly. I was instantly aware it had happened and was mortified about it. "That happens to me too, getting an erection like that if I'm really enjoying a massage," Steve said. "Used to embarrass the hell out of me. Every time it happened to me the masseur told me it was a natural reaction. After I heard that from a few different ones, I finally believed it. I hope you're not letting it bother you." "I guess I'm a little embarrassed," I said, the understatement of the year. "Don't be, ok? It really is just a normal reaction to a good massage. I've had enough of them to know." "Ok," I lied. But I wasn't nearly as surprised at what he said as I was at what he did next. He took hold of my dick and tucked it back under the waistband of the shorts. "It might jump out again before I'm done, but at least it's out of sight for the moment. Maybe that'll help some with the embarrassment." It did jump out twice more before he moved to between my legs, and each time he tucked it away, the first time when he slid his hands inside the legs of the shorts and followed the creases at the top of my legs to where they ended at the hip sockets. If my balls had not pulled up so tightly against my body, he would surely have grazed them as his fingers traveled by. He only missed touching the head of my dick because it was raised off of my belly in its ultimately successful effort to move to its normal position pointing upwards. The long strokes from my knees along my thighs and inside the shorts to my hip joints caused the smooth nylon fabric of the shorts to rub the back of my dick making it throb. And then it happened a third time. As Steve's hands moved inside the shorts on their way to the end of their stroke, they raised the waistband enough that my dick popped free and lay pointing straight up my belly. It lay there for a minute until he pulled his hands free of my shorts and replaced it under the waistband. When he finished with my feet, he told me, "Now we're even." "No way!" I replied. "That was at least four times the massage I gave you. Now I owe you again." I was thoroughly heated up from his touch and determined to get my hands on his body even if nothing came of it. "But if you don't stop at just the right time, I'll owe you again," he told me with a laugh and then gave me his best smile. "Then we'll just have to keep doing it until we figure we're even." "Ok by me," he said as he stretched out and rolled onto his belly. "I'd never turn down an opportunity to get a good massage." I pulled my shorts up slightly as I stood up. My dick throbbed as I lowered myself onto Steve's butt. He moaned softly when I first dug my fingers into his shoulder muscles. "You should go into the business," he said. Not that many people I'd want to do this to, I thought. Out loud I said, "Too much work. Easier to mow lawns." "Probably true." The only thing on my mind was getting to his butt and pulling his shorts down, so I forced myself to continue working on his upper body to make sure I didn't give him less than he had given me. I wanted to make sure the massages continued. Finally the moment came when I told him, "Lift up." As he did, I jerked his shorts down as far as they would go. I guessed they had caught on his dick in the front as had happened when he pulled my shorts down, but they were completely off of his butt. His crack was hairless and the skin of his butt was as smooth as it was everywhere else on his body. Now that I had my hands on his butt, my next thought was about his dick. It took all of my self control to continue massaging him as he had done me. I also made sure that his shorts didn't travel very far back up his butt as I worked on his legs. When he rolled onto his back, I saw I had pulled the shorts so far down that an inch or so of the bottom of his dick was showing above the waistband. It seemed to be sticking straight out and then bending in almost a right angle. The rest was hidden in the gathered material of his shorts, but I knew where the head was from the large wet spot his precum had made. The base of his dick seemed considerably thicker than it had when he got out of the shower, but I wondered if it was actually hard since it had to have continued to point downward for the wet spot to be where it was. In my experience hard dicks pointed up. I moved to sit astride his hips as he had done on me. I could feel his dick thick along my perineum as I lowered my self onto him. But no sooner was I ready to begin on his shoulders than he said, "Just a second. I'm getting mashed. Lift up a little." I lifted up slightly, puzzled about what he meant. He slid his hand under my crotch. His knuckles rubbed along the bottom of my balls as he did and gave me a chill. I felt his hand move around under me and then begin to come forward again. When it emerged, he was pulling his dick around to lie sideways across his belly. He was apparently arranging the waistband of his shorts to hold it in place. I could see the full length of his dick for half its width. The rest was caught under the waistband, but he had positioned it so it was holding his dick from moving downwards rather than upwards. "Ok, you can sit back down." I did, feeling his dick press into my thigh. My own dick responded by throbbing. "Ok now?" I asked. "Yeah. Just not enough room down there for everything the way you were sitting." He had clearly settled down again, even closing his eyes. I continued to struggle inside myself to give him a good massage. When I moved to between his thighs, I did manage to touch his balls lightly with the sides of my thumbs as I moved past them the first time, but as I worked my hands upward inside the shorts, the waistband moved upward and his dick moved so that it was further and further inside the shorts. I touched it lightly and accidentally several times so I knew it was hard, but it seemed to point downward naturally. There was no chance I could bring it into the open. When I finished, Steve got up, tugged up his shorts, and said, "I'm thirsty. Want a glass of tea?" I did, so he got glasses for both of us. We sat in our usual places to drink it, me in the chair and him on the sofa. I asked when he would want me to work again. He wanted to start on his bedroom. He could rip out everything that needed to go over the weekend and we could begin putting in the new outside wall and the wall board on Monday. "But you'll still come mow and have lunch with me on Saturday, right?" "Sure will. And get my massage." "Yeah, don't want to forget that," he said with a smile and a wink. "But the next week I'm gonna be away on vacation. I won't be able to work that week." "Perfect timing. It'll give me a chance to do the one-man work finishing off the bedroom. Where're you going on your vacation?" I told him all about it, leaving out the part about the nude beach, which I really didn't believe anyhow. "Sounds like you'll have a great time," he told me. When I left shortly afterward, I was as ready for sex as I had ever been. I went to both Kevin's and Jeffy's houses on the way to Boomer's to get the mower, but neither one was home. Boomer was, but so was his mother, so there was no help for my problem there. I pulled my jeans over my shorts and rode off on the mower. My lust simmered as I mowed three lawns. It was made worse by the vibration of the mower between my legs and of the trimmer against my belly. I stayed hard nearly the whole time. When I finished the fourth lawn, I couldn't stand it any longer. I lengthened the sling which the trimmer hung from, lowering the motor so it sat at the level of my crotch. When I took hold of the handle, I could press my knuckles against my dick which then vibrated along with the trimmer. I came in less than a minute. The relief was so great I nearly went down on my knees, dragged down by the weight of the trimmer, but I recovered before that happened. My last lawn that day was Mr. Morris's. I rode the mower to his house and parked near the garage where I usually took off my pants. I wore long pants, usually loose jeans once I had given up the kiddie clothes I began the season with, to protect my legs from flying objects kicked up by the trimmer. But remembering Ted's comment about Mr. Morris liking to look and because he always gave me a tip, I braved the dangers of the trimmer and wore only shorts while working there. I had unzipped the jeans and begun pushing them down when I saw I had a large round wet spot on my shorts. I considered mowing in shorts anyhow since the material was a dark color and the wet spot didn't show too badly, but then I realized it would turn white as it dried and become very noticeable. I pulled my jeans up and fastened them, depriving Mr. Morris of his view and myself of the tip he usually gave me. That night in bed I told Ted about my day. We had been sucking each other's dicks alternately and were taking a break to cool down before we moved on to the main event. "Amazin' that he just took hold of your dick and tucked it away like that." "I couldn't believe it. He acted like it was nothing at all." "Maybe it is to him. Wouldn't be to me. He a touchy kind of guy, put his hands on you when he talks to you?" "Me neither. Yeah, he is a lot. But he just touches my arm or my shoulder or my back, like that." "That's what I meant. But I wouldn't expect him to be cool about doin' somethin' like that though." "We touched each other a lot working on the fence too. Maybe it's all the same thing to him." "Maybe it is. But you weren't touchin' each other's dicks. Ya know, it's always hard to figure out how somebody's gonna react when they don't think the same way you do. I mean if I touched somebody's dick, I'd just be startin' somethin'. And if somebody touched mine, I'd think they were startin' somethin' with me." "I really think he's just comfortable touching me. I mean anywhere. It just doesn't mean anything to him. And look how he was worried I was embarrassed." "I bet he knew you were. Your face was probably red as a beet. Still nice of him, though." "He saw me every way but hard until then. Now he's seen that too." "Then you don't have to worry about it any more 'cause you know he won't think anything about it. Too bad about poor old Mr. Morris. I bet he'd've loved a chance to see you hard." "Yeah, but I couldn't've mowed with a big white cum stain on my shorts." "Sure you could. Probably woulda given him a real charge." "I'll make it up to him next week and moon him or something." "Better be careful. You bend over and show him your bare butt, he might decide to do more than just look." "You really think he would?" "Nah, probably not. I'm pretty sure he's just a looker with no harm in him. Look how he wanted to make sure you charged enough." "Yeah. He's still paying me more than anybody else and giving me a tip besides, not counting this last time." "Makes you feel kinda sorry for him, don't it?" Ted began to lick around the very sensitive head of my dick and our conversation ended. We brought each other to the brink three more times before pushing on to an orgasm. As we drifted off to sleep, Ted told me, "I think you give the best head of anybody I've ever had it from." "Good training," I replied drowsily. Ted chuckled, the last sound I heard before I drifted off to sleep. 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.