Date: Thu, 16 Jul 2020 16:13:46 +0000 From: kleiner.gespenst Subject: The Night Clerk | Part 1 (Revised) This is a story of two boys with unusual jobs meeting by chance in the Pacific Northwest. If you enjoy any of the many beautifully written works on Nifty, please consider donating: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================== Bright head lights washed across the office walls at the Anderson's Dew Drop Motor Court. Trevor Anderson looked up from the laptop and out the window. As a car pulled up in front of the office, the 14-year-old sighed and paused the game he'd been immersed in. Pulling his headset from his straight, shoulder length red hair, he toggled to the booking app. Most nights during the week, travelers without reservations arrived well-before 10 PM, and Trevor could spend a couple of hours meeting up with friends online. Now, his character would probably die while he checked in the guests. But it was his summer job. From Sunday to Thursday, he had the night shift at his family's motel, from 7 pm until 7 AM, with his parents taking over during the weekend rush. In the middle of summer, you could never tell when backpackers or families got tired of driving toward Olympia National Park, and needed to stop for the night. But most nights, he could crash in the office's little back room bed by midnight, first tenderizing his adolescent hardness with frenzied hands, thinking of boys from school or church, or the boy who worked part time at the motel during the summer. Spider McCoy helped Trevor with housekeeping every afternoon during the week. Lean and long limbed, the boy got the nickname at 8. By twelve, tired of the bullying from more rapidly maturing middle-schoolers, he'd taken up weights and boxing, and was sinewy, like beef jerky. When work was light, the boys would take advantage of last vacant room to grapple with their adolescent needs. Frequently taking showers together, sometimes wave-thundering baths, and always on all fours on the floor, their appetites were only partly sated before Spider had to leave for his night job. But Spider had been running late that day, and they didn't have time for even a quickie, and dreaming of the older boy's sweat-salty thighs only compounded his teenage hunger. Before he could banish the vision, his jeans jutted at an awkward diagonal, and Trevor grit his teeth, failing to will his boner away. The chimes burst as the front door swung open, and a handsome, blond man in a silk sport coat strolled in. Through the open door, Trevor could see a Mercedes, with two blurry shapes sitting inside, and the boy knew these were the kind of road-weary people who'd never frequent the Dewdrop unless it were the only choice. Which it was for tourists. On the 101, between Aberdeen and New London, this was the only motel that didn't charge by the hour. The well-dressed man asked for two rooms, and handed over an American Express black card. His ID confirmed Trevor's suspicion: totally Los Angeles. "Non-adjoining, please?" the man requested. He had a slight accent Trevor couldn't place. "And if one at the end is available, my wife and I would truly appreciate it." Trevor kept his face blank. Road-horny dudes always wanted the end rooms, and never next to their kids. Signing the check-in, the man gave Trevor an appraising smile. "You ever think of acting? You got the look." Giving the man a skeptical look and replying in the negative, the man merely said, "Shame," and turned to go. As the door shut behind the guy, Trevor chuckled. "Fuckin' L.A. Same gimmick every time." Tourists from SoCal were just like any others, though usually in better shape. But the "industry" types were always dangling that stupid line for rubes. At least this time he wasn't being hit on. A few minutes later, Trevor was back on Omaha Beach, watching his team mates get pummeled while he threw grenades. But just as his character was machine-gunning Nazis at the top of the cliffs, the door chimed, and he had to pause again. A boy looking about his age and height smiled at Trevor, holding an ice bucket. Straight, golden hair hung over one side of a somewhat girlish face, and he looked vaguely familiar. With a slender frame in cargo shorts and a Laker's hoodie, the blonde was so beautiful, Trevor's jaw actually dropped. He had never seen a boy this attractive off-screen, and sat frozen, until the boy broke the tension. "Uh, hi? Can you tell me where the ice machine is?" Hypnotized by green eyes circled with blue rims, and lips looking a little too rosy to be be natural, Trevor had to shake his head to snap out of it. The boy giggled. He must be used to this, Trevor thought with embarrassment. And then he wondered if he'd been asked a trick question. "Uh, it's right outside...?" Trevor replied. "Damn. Don't know how I missed it," the boy replied, staring into Trevor's eyes, then biting his lower lip. "Must have been the long drive. We're trying to see the entire PCH in 3 weeks, and we've been non-stop from Portland." "Uh-huh," Trevor stupidly replied, only pulling himself from the boy's features to admire his deliciously slender legs. Portland was 3-hours away. Was this kid fucking with him? "So there's a bitchin book store there. It's got 3 million books, and we kind of forgot about the time, and then we had dinner before we could hit road" the boy explained. Trevor was glad the boy rambled on. He couldn't think of a single interesting thing to say. But that didn't seem to matter to the blond boy, who walked over, extending his hand. "I'm Harley De Vries," the boy said, extending his hand. They shook, and Harley smiled in expectation. "And you are...?" Harley coached him, gently. "Oh, sorry. Duh. I'm Trevor. Trevor Anderson." "Nice to meet you, Trevor Anderson," Harley replied, looking around at the modesty decorated office. Then, he gave Trevor a coy smile. "Um, I'm gonna sound like a total dumb-ass, Trevor. But I can't figure out how to turn on the heat in my room." Harley had to be flirting with him. The heat instructions were printed out in every room. But maybe he was wasted? It didn't matter, either way. The L.A. boy was stunningly cute, with a soft nose dusted with freckles. Spending any time with him was a a gift and he'd be committing every detail to memory. A memory that would be very handy, when he dimmed the office light. "The heater's are kind of tricky, I guess," Trevor lied, looking down as he walked from behind the desk to hide his nervous eagerness. "Want me to set your's for you?" "That'd be sweet, dude. I mean, if you can leave," the boy said. "No worries, Harley. `Sides your family, I don't think it'll be a busy night." Trevor prayed this would be true, as he hung the "Back in 15 Minutes" sign on the door, with his cellphone number penciled underneath, and locked the office. As they stepped past the ice machine, Trevor smirked. "Uh, didn't you need some ice, Harley?" The L.A. boy suppressed a grin. "Oh. Yeah. Ice." Fog was rolling in while Harley filled his bucket. The boys headed toward the De Vries family rooms on the west wing, gently interrogating each other about their lives. Harley was genuinely baffled that a boy would be left in charge of a motel. "Not exactly alone. My family's over there in the cottage," Trevor explained, pointing at the small detached house. "I dig it. I'm in a kind of family business, too," Harley said, slowly revealing the reason for his familiarity. He'd had minor roles on several TV and Web series, one of which Trevor caught on Netflix. Harley didn't take the business seriously. Though more self-assured than Trevor by leagues, the other boy didn't seem stuck up at all, and genuinely curious about Trevor's life. Reaching the door to his room, the blonde boy gave Trevor a mischievous smile. "I love your red hair, Trev. It's literal fire." Turning before he could see Trevor's cheeks glow as red as his hair, Harley opened the door, and said over his shoulder, "And you're way cuter than my dad said." Giggling, the Hollywood boy lead the way in. Now he really wished he'd done laundry that day. With no underwear to restrain his poor young cock, Trevor's trouser prow plowed into the room's dim light like an ice cutter in the arctic. He quickly adjusted before Harley turned to close the door behind them. "I was fiddling with all these controls, and the heat didn't do anything," Harley said, pointing to the air unit below the window, while kicking off his flip flops. "No worries, dude," Trevor explained. "You have to use the remote control." Turning to where the device normally lay on an instruction card, the redhead saw it was missing. Looking more carefully, Trevor looked under the TV, where it had gotten shoved. No doubt, Spider had been in such a hurry cleaning the room he'd been a little careless. In moments Trevor had warm air pumping into the chilly room. Coastal Washington could get downright cold and clammy, even in the middle of summer. "Thanks, Trevor. I thought I was dumb as a sack of clams," Harley said, rubbing his hands in the warm air stream. "No worries, dude. I'm sorry the control was hidden." Harley turned and smiled at Trevor, totally disabling him again with his angelic features. "Long as you're here, can you tell me what the hell `Magic Fingers' are?" Harley pointed at a wall box, one of the few relics remaining from the motel's construction in the 50s. Most everything else had been renovated a couple years earlier, but his parents were nostalgic about Magic Fingers. Trevor rolled his eyes. "It's a totally dumb thing that vibrates the bed. It's supposed to massage your back, but not really." "It looks like it's been around forever, and it doesn't work?" Harley chuckled and pulled out a quarter. "Here you go, Harley. On the house." The room echoed with a soft mechanical purr, as the bed frame jostled, and Harley gleefully jumped on. In moments he was laughing hysterically. "Th-th-th-th-this i-i-i-is s-s-s-s-o w-e-e-eird-d," the Hollywood boy cackled with the vibrations. Patting the mattress, Harley insisted Trevor lay down next to him. Trevor was alternately embarrassed by the antique bed vibrator, and dumbstruck a boy like Harley was leading him up an emotional Candy Mountain. Seconds later, both boys were trying to sing Riahanna's "Umbrella," using the vibrations for reverb, and ending up howling with laughter, until the Magic Fingers died. "Awww," Harley said. "That was fun!" Trevor admitted it was, and got up to feed several quarters into the machine. As the mattress roared to life, Trevor lay down again next to the blond, and his hand fell against Harley's. The SoCal boy didn't pull away, instead turning and smiling. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-o-o-o-o gugugulaaaad wu-wu-we f-f-f-ound th-th-this p-p-p-l-a-a-ce." Harley's fingers entwined with Trevor's, and he squeezed the red-head's hand gently, yet firmly. Harley's thumb stoked the outside Trevor's, and the night clerk's dick pounded against his jeans painfully. Glancing down at Trevor's condition, Harley bit his lip, then rolled slightly to his side. Reaching with his free hand, he traced circles around the Washington boy's slim tummy and chest. This has got to be a dream, Trevor thought, using his free hand to comb Harley's lop-sided mop behind the boy's ear. With wordless agreement, both boys leaned together so their lips could meet. Trevor sighed and his heart beat faster. He didn't even know this kid, and yet it felt natural and inevitable. The boys kissed tenderly for long moments. Buckling under their tidal pressures, their mouths opened with passion, but their teeth clacked from the vibrating bed. Trevor groaned with frustration, but Harley took charge and changed course. Climbing up and lying on top of Trevor, Harley slid his arms around the boy, and his lips traced along the boy's face. The redhead moaned when he felt a tongue probing into ear, while Harley's rigid boyhood pressed against his own. Trevor spread his thighs, and hugged Harley tightly. It almost seemed the bed vibrated faster, though Trevor knew that couldn't be, unless there were a ghost in the machine. Boycock relentlessly jackhammered against boycock, and ricocheting, high-pitched moans joined the mechanical purr washing across the motel room walls. Kissing and sucking and biting each other's necks, the boys lost themselves in effortlessly power-plowing into each other. Using his knees for leverage, Harley added his own force to the bed's machine gun friction. "Uuuhhh-I-I-I-I c-c-c-a-a-a-n't s-s-s-s-t-o-o-p!" Trevor huffed. "G-u-u-u-o-o-o on! C-u-u-m-m-m T-T-T-T-r-e-e-v-v-v!" The redhead wrapped his legs around Harley's ass, squeezing the other boy's hardness fully into his own. His young balls, over-loaded with an entire day's adolescent build-up, erupted with with a flare that washed across him. Gritting his teeth, Trevor choked a scream that would have woken all the motel's guests, and jet after jet flooded his jeans. Just then, the Magic Fingers died again, and Harley thrust into Trevor like a nitro-charged excavator, grunting with each pump. Arching his back, he suddenly gasped, and his hips trembled against Trevor's. The redhead squeezed him more tightly with his legs, watching in awe as the other boy silently shook, eyelids tightly scrunched together. After a few moments, Harley collapsed onto Trevor, quietly catching his breath with his lips buried in a long red mane. Slowly, he rolled to his side, and grinned at Trevor. "Fucking Magic Fingers!" Harley sighed, and Trevor chuckled. The blond drew a finger along the redhead's jaw, drinking the boy in with his haunting eyes. "You're so hotspice, Trev. You could be on screen." "Shut up, Mr. Showbiz," Trevor replied, laughing. "I'm no actor." "Shit, hardly anyone on TV is," Harley replied. Changing the subject, Trevor pointed out, "You didn't even ask if I was into dudes," arching an eyebrow. "You're not?" Harley replied. "Well I guess I'm sorry about messing up your Levis, then." Both boys laughed, then Trevor looked in dismay at the huge wet spot. "I kinda have very good Gaydar, Trev," Harley explained unnecessarily. "It's like a super power." "So, you didn't really need ice, Harley?" "Nope. And I pushed the remote under the TV," the boy chuckled. "My parents always let me know when there are hotties around. But most turn out to be straight. Your tells are pretty clear." Trevor blushed, thinking he'd been discrete, and Harley smiled, realizing the other boy was a little shy. The SoCal boy changed the subject. "Here, let's get you out of these wet things." Trevor should have gone back to the office. But right then, he couldn't have been pulled out of room 23 with a boat winch. His mobile number was on the office door. He lay back to let Harley pull off his beat up Chuck Taylors and undo his jeans. "Freeballer, eh?" Harley said, as the triangular opening revealed a slender, softening 3-inches, nestled in a small patch of semen-matted red hair. "Not usually," Trevor replied, explaining he'd run out of clean clothes. Lifting his butt, he let Harley slide his jeans down his legs and off. For some reason, he felt totally at ease with this boy he'd known for maybe half an hour. It was like being with a long-lost friend. "You came a lot," Harley observed. "I hope you have some left," he said, mischeviously. "Seriously, dude? You're the most bangin' boy I've ever seen. `Think I could cum buckets just looking at you." "Stop it, dude," the blond said, actually blushing and looking away. Maybe his acting was that good, because Trevor almost believed the boy had no idea how beautiful he was. Trevor's eyes widened as the other boy pulled off his hoodie, revealing slender, toned abs. Harley wasn't a muscle guy, but he was firmly well-defined, his flat belly undercut with a pelvic "V" trailing into his waistband. Unconsciously, Trevor licked his lips when Harley lowered his shorts. Light grey Calvin Klein briefs framed slender, corded thighs, while snuggly wrapping an impressive package. A small circle of dampness ran from the top of the waistband to an inch south. "You a runner, Harley?" "Yep. Looks like you are, too, dude," the boy replied, laying alongside the redhead. Delicately tracing his fingers up and down Trevor's thigh, he asked "Wanna go for a run tomorrow morning? Like early, before I leave?" Trevor was startled by the sudden reminder that his new acquaintance would be leaving. He wanted Harley to stay, at least long enough for them to become friends. But that was the story of any inn-keeper, a life of momentary encounters both good and bad, and so he brushed those thoughts aside. "Sure. I'll take you on an awesome trail." Their lips drew together again. Trevor's fingers fanned around Harley's torso, while the L.A. boy unbuttoned the other's flannel shirt. Tongues met to tickle and dance, and their breathing grew heavier. Harley gently bit Trevor's lower lip, while the redhead tweaked one of his little nipples. "You taste so good, Trev, I could eat you alive." Harley slid his tongue back into the other boy's mouth, and Trevor sealed his lips around it. Slowly, he fellated the slippery, swimming intruder, and Harley moaned at the implication. Trevor pulled away to frantically wrestle his Pendleton off, while Harley got up from the bed. A tubular specter haunted his his snug underpants, burrowing like a prairie dog beneath a surface of soft cotton. "Lay back and close your eyes, Trev," he said, ominously. Nothing creepy about being alone in a rural motel with a stranger telling you to shut your eyes, Trevor thought, and stifled a laugh. Laying back, he shut his eyes. A moment later, he heard the clacking sound of ice cubes being pulled apart. The bed shuddered with Harley's weight, as the blond boy boy crawled back to Trevor. The night clerk didn't know what Harley was going to do with ice, but he grinned, expecting the worst. Just as Harley's minty breath reached Trevor, one of the Washington boy's nipples erupted with a gale of frosty burning, and he squeaked with surprise, then giggled. "Sshhhh..." Harley whispered into Trevor's ear, then flicked his tongue across the boy's earlobe. At the same time, the burning/freezing ice cube raced round and round Trevor's tender little nipple, catalyzing it to diamond-hardness, while pushing ragged gasps out of the redhead. A moment later, Trevor heard Harley crunching the cube and swallowing. Icy lips locked around his other nipple, and Harley's cold tongue had Trevor squirming, clutching fists full of bedding, and his dick shrieked silently into fullness. As Harley lay back, grinning at Trevor's slender 5-inches beating against it's small ginger garden, the redhead leaned down to return the favor. Trevor slid one arm under Harley's shoulders and hugged the boy to his mouth, while circling his fingertips around the boy's tummy. Taking Harley's nipples tenderly between his teeth, he gently bit, while tickling the tip with his tongue. Harley squeezed his eyes shut, and sucked in a quick breath from the exquisite torment. Trevor traced his fingers across the front of the boy's underpants, and felt them fully engorged with pulsating boyhood. Twisting to look down, his eyes widened at the pubescent pole pushing the boy's briefs straight up like a circus big top. It had to be 7 inches, lifting the waistband away from Harley's skin. Trevor lightly twirled his fingers around Harley's cotton-clad crown, while sucking a little harder on the boy's nipple. The blond's sighs turned into moans, and Trevor fluted his fingers up and down the other boy's rigid length like a concert pianist. While still teasing Harley with butterfly caresses through the front of his undies, Trevor kissed down the boy's solid, flat tummy, and lightly licked the slightly outie navel. Pulling his arm back from under Harley, and using those fingers to caress the boy's chest, Trevor cupped the boy's solid sack through its cotton pouch, and leaned down to seal his lips around the SoCal boy's wide knob. "Oooouuhhh, Trev!" Harley sighed, as the redhead teased his knob through his undies, fingers still feathering his straining tumescence through its cotton wrapper.. After drenching the boy's briefs with saliva, Trevor peeled his waistband down under the boy's swollen, hairless sack. Still fused with Harley's thick shaft, the plumb sized scrotum was as smooth as if it had been ironed with starch. "Whoah," Trevor mutter, as he admired Harley's 7-inch boyhood, towering over and contrasting with a pristine, hairless base. Does he shave his pubes, Harley wondered? "How old are you, Harley?" "I just turned 13," the boy replied quietly. "I'm a little behind in the puberty department. Is that...bad?" Harley asked with a note of dread. Trevor smiled and shook his head. "Hell no. Kinda sexy, actually. It's just that, well, you're so damned big!" Harley's shaft wagged with the boy's heartbeat, and Harley smiled at the appreciation in Trevor's eyes. "You should see my dad, Trev." As alarmed confusion crossed Trevor's face, Harley laughed. "Not hard, dude! I've never seen that. But my parents are Dutch, and don't bother with clothes in the hot tub." Though relieved to hear it, Trevor had to banish the disturbing idea of ever seeing his own parents naked. "Oh, that's, uh low key lit?" Harley's mischievous smile returned. Trevor's innocence was so adorable, and Harley kind of enjoyed gently edging the other boy's discomfort almost as much as his pleasure. "Yeah. Especially since he doesn't have any pubes either." Stunned, Trevor stared in shock at Harley, who fought down his laughter. "Is that..um...a genetic thing?" Harley looked at Trevor with a grave expression and half-nodded, before cracking up. "No. It's a cosmetic thing. When my big brother was born, both my parents had ALL their body hair removed. They say it was about some "cycle of rebirth." I mean, I don't want to think about it too much." Neither did Trevor, who shook his head, and looked down again in awe of man-sized, boy-aged cock. "You're not circumcised," Trevor whispered. He'd seen a couple of uncut boys in the gym class shower, but never up close and certainly never erect. Harley's pee-hole glistened through a little porthole, and Trevor could make out every detail of the boy's knob through its thin flesh cover. "Yeah, Trev. You ok with it?" Harley asked, again hesitantly. "Absolutely! I just - I just have never played with an uncut dick before. I don't want to hurt you." Harley chuckled. "Relax, dude. It's more likely to hurt you." Both boys giggled, while Harley used his finger tips to skin his helmet with a few strokes, then left his hood in place. "See? It's no big deal." "Oh, it's a BIG deal, dude," Trevor retorted, and both boys laughed. Reverentially, Harley held the boy's sheathed helmet with the thumbs and index fingers of both hands. Slowly, he unpeeled the boy's shiny, damp helmet. Unlike any cock he'd ever touched, it was an enraged, purple gem, and easily more than an inch thick. Slowly, he stroked Harley with the boy's own foreskin for long and slow moments of wonder. Harley's glittering glans was as exotic and mesmerizing as the boy's eyes. After a few minutes, Trevor dragged his fingers along Harley's pulsing length, tracing as delicately as a butterfly buffeting against a cycling tornado. One hand would lightly dance up, while the fingers of the other twirled down, then they reversed course. Like playing a harp, Trevor pulled sweet music out of the L.A. boy. Harley buried his hand in Trevor's hair, and his breathing grew deep. "Fuck, man. THOSE are Magic Fingers." Harley curled around on his side, facing Trevor's hip, then pulled the redhead onto his side, as well. The little night clerk was leaner than he, and Trevor's pinkish, circumcised surface was wet with syrup weeping in small, clear drops from his quivering nozzle. "Your pubes are beautiful," Harley whispered, gently raking his fingers through Trevor's soggy little bush, delighted by the few freckles scattered across his hips and pubic mound. Trevor's still-hairless scrotum was bigger and baggier than Harley's, and hung sideways toward the bed. Harley took the warm sack in hand, rolling and studying the boy's nuts, and Trevor shivered. In response, he gently raked Harley's cock with his fingernails. The light scratching on the underside of his knob made Harley moan loudly, and Trevor grinned. Peeling back the Harley's hood again, he kissed the frenulum, and left his lips planted to the boy's underside, while gripping the thick stalk with one full hand, and with his other, gently cupping Trevor's steaming little nut bag. While he was delicately stroking and squeezing, Trevor's tongue slithered out to seek its prey. Trevor rapidly flicked the tip on the underside of Harley's helmet, making the boy gasp. In response, Harley slurped in the redhead's balls, one at a time, eagerly sucking down their delicious slight saltiness. With two finger tips on the top of Trevor's knob, and a thumb on the back, he delicately pulled back and forth on the boy's exposed tenderness until the redhead shook. Trevor replied with greater savagery, locking his upper lip over the unpeeled, north ridge of Harley's purple bell, and tongue-scrubbed the boy's tender south more for forcefully. At the same time, he stroked fingertips along the blond's steel-hard stalk with greater pressure. Then, he kissed and licked and sucked little sections of Harley's turgid length, from tip to nuts and back. Sometimes he lip-nibbled like a goldfish, while never stopping his tender play with Harley's balls. The little nuggets seemed like tiny decorations in the shadow of the boy's fat tumescence. Harley struck back, licking Trevor's boy length until it glistened in the dim room light, then slid the redhead's pole all the way into his mouth, and partially into his throat. Sealing his lips, he sucked hard, his cheeks like slippery rubber again Trevor's pubescence. Drawing back and forth, from tip to base, Harley started humming and swallowing, taunting Trevor with all the vibrations he could muster. He could taste more vaguely salty boy liquor on his tongue, and felt Trevor trembling. He didn't want Trevor to cum just yet, so he pulled off the redhead's pole, and kissed his way back to the boy's nuts. Tenderizing them with his tongue a little more, he pushed past, into Trevor's divide. Feeling Harley tongue slithering between his buns, Trevor gasped. He knew about such things, but nobody had eaten his ass before. Sure, he'd been fingered plenty, and loved being impaled with penis, but this was shatteringly new. Trevor cocked a leg up, resting his foot flat on the mattress to give Harley better access. In seconds, Trevor squealed as his hole was being furiously Frenched. The very idea of the blond boy god eagerly twirling his tongue into his anus, while sucking his hole almost made him cum. He was thankful he'd showered before his shift. Trevor was perilously rolling toward the cliff, and he needed to drag Harley with him. The redhead sealed his lips around the boy's mouth-filing knob. He'd never be able to get more than 3 inches of that thick, throbbing missile in, but he did what he could, swabbing his tongue all around the boy's tenderly swollen head, while his hand pistoned quickly up and down Harley's length. His cupping hand gently squeezed harder in time, and Trevor pushed his middle finger up into Harley's crevice. The blond jerked for a moment, and moaned into Trevor's bottom, as the finger plunged into his ring. Harley's tongue dove deep, and Trevor's finger dove deeper, and it became a race to see who could ignite the other's climax first. The end came for Trevor when Harley's used two fingers and a thumb to stroke him from balls to tip, mercilessly bringing friction to bear like lightening striking a lake. Trevor's balls heaved like buoys in the storm lashing across his body. Helplessly shaking, he pulled his mouth off Harley, and grit his teeth. Harley's barbarously buffing fingers and savagely drilling tongue detonated his explosive reserves. His hips thrust in counter time to Harley's strokes, and he barely choked a high-pitched squeal as his thin, milky jets spattered against the blond's slender chest, then drooled onto the bedspread below. While the stars slowly cleared from his head, it took Trevor moments to remember where he was. Harley's head was now resting quietly on one of Trevor's ropey thighs, as he carefully and studiously milked the very last drops from the the boy's spent cock. "Holy shit," Trevor gasped, then renewed his assault on Harley's knob, working the the boy's pee-hole like the SoCal boy had attacked his bottom. Harley grunted, and Trevor locked his lips around the boy's glans, sweeping his tongue round and round the tender prow, while his head bobbed up and back. Rotating his head by 45 degrees back and forth with each lap, Trevor mercilessly corkscrewed his hot, wet suction on Harley's raging hardness. At the same time, he used the finger tips of both hands to churn every millimeter of the boy's shaft. Harley's high pitched moans grew louder, piping with every breath, and Trevor sucked on the boy's head with unforgiving force. Polishing the boy's shaft with one blurring hand, he retuned his ravaging finger to Harley's boy hole. Plunging deeply in and out, in harmony with his ravaging strokes, he felt Harley's nuts contract against the flat of his hand. The blond hissed a something guttural and primitive, and his cock pulsed in Trevor's hand. One thin, watery stream of almost flavorless ejaculate burst across the redhead's tongue, then tiny drops bubbled after. Though Harley's head was rocking on his thigh like a headbanger, Trevor eased his sucking, and stroked the boy softly, until his stifled moans evolved into bellowing breaths. Pulling away from Harley's boyhood, Trevor studied it as it softened, and reached down to stroke the boy's head with his other hand. "That was fire, dude," Harley mumbled, catching his breath. He hadn't thought a semi-rural boy could give better head than anyone in LA, much less be so in tune with another boy's responses. Most guys he'd been with were selfish and clueless. Moreover, he realized the Trevor must have been getting a lot of practice with someone. Crawling around to face Trevor, he took the boy's face between both hands, and kissed him deeply, then lay on his side smiling wordlessly, studying the handsome ginger. "Do you have a boyfriend, Trevor Anderson?" Trevor chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. I used to mess around with some friends in 5th grade and middle school, but they've all gone on to girls." Trevor shrugged. "If we lived down in Aberdeen, it'd be easier to find other gay boys. There's a kid who works here, and we have fun together. But he's not sure if he's into girls or boys." Trevor gave the blond a shy look. "How about you, Harley Moviestar? You must have boys lining the block to hang with you." Harley chuckled and shook his head. "Not a movie star, dude. Just a kid with a weird job, and no boyfriend. There're guys at school I fool around with, but they're all totally into themselves. We have a beach house, and sometimes I help surfers, uh, `in need,' if you know what I mean." Both boys nodded knowingly, with arched eyebrows of resignation. Sucking off a straight boy while he fantasized about girls was fun, but only in small doses. "I wish you lived in LA, so we could hang out." Trevor felt his heart bursting with the idea, and then break with the reality, and Harley could read it on the redhead's expressions. He quickly changed the subject. "Your ass is so sensitive. You like playing with it?" "You have no idea. And nobody's ever, um, done what you did before." "We can do it all night, if you want. Like I said, I could eat you alive." Trevor looked over at the bed side clock. He'd been away from the office for two hours. It was almost worth risking the idea, but his family counted on him. "Can't dude. I've gotta get back to work." "Well, is there a place we can be alone on the trail run tomorrow?" "I know the perfect place. It has a view of the ocean." Trevor started to get up, and Harley stopped him. "Before you go, can I take a picture of you? Just like you are? I won't share it with anyone, I swear." He'd never been asked for a nude before, and he was thrilled when Harley pulled out his phone and take several shots. They were giggling again, when Trevor posed sometimes erotically, and other times with goofy looks. Of course, that's when Trevor's phone rang. "Shit!" Trevor sighed, picking up device. "Trevor Anderson speaking." It was a check-in, and Trevor apologized to the annoyed, late night tourist. "Fuck, I gotta get going. Toss me my pants." Picking them up, Harley saw they were still jizz-soaked. "You better wear something of mine," Harley said, rifling through his suitcase while Trevor pulled on his Pendleton. "Here, dude," Trevor called, tossing the boy a pair of sky-blue, Calvin Kleins. Wearing another boy's underwear seemed weirdly naughty, and Trevor's cock lurched while he pulled the snug little briefs on. Harley's cargo shorts followed, and moments later, Trevor was out the door, jogging toward the office. After calming the travelers down and getting them checked in, Trevor mused on the whirlwind evening, and realized he never asked Harley for a photo. Probably can't, he realized. Even a minor celebrity couldn't risk taking nudes. Magically, his phone messenger chimed, with a text alert popping up from "No ID." Opening it, a message read, "Dude, this is Harley. I had a great time, and I hope you won't change your mind about running tomorrow." It also spelled out Harley's phone number. Attached were two nude selfies, taken with the bathroom mirror, and a full-face portrait of the smiling boy. Trevor texted back. "I can't wait to see you again. Thanks for the photos. I'll never show anyone." Reply text: "I know, dude. Have a good night." ===================================================== Trevor woke up to the sound of his mom checking guests out. Stretching on the small, back room bed, he checked his phone. Shit, he thought. It was almost checkout time, and there'd be no way he could go for a run with Harley. The office door closed behind the exiting guests, and Trevor rushed up to his mother. "Mom! You didn't wake me up this morning?" Brushing the boy's long hair from his face, Julie Anderson smiled. Her hair was also flame red, but considerably shorter. "Honey, I saw the logs. Your last check in was 3 AM." "But I was gonna go for a run..." "With that boy from Los Angeles? I know. I told him you needed to sleep in." Seeing the disappointment wash across her son's face, Julie Anderson's heart melted. "He'll be back in a week, honey. You must have made quite an impression." As a smile spread across her son's face, she continued, "The De Vries family is spending two days here. TWO. No one stays here on purpose. I suggested Friday and Saturday would be the best choices." "You suggested..." It took a second for Trevor to process. "Thanks, Mom!" Trevor hugged his mother tightly. "I love you." Hugging her boy with one arm, she wiped her eyes with the other. "Oh, and that boy left this for you," she added, handing a motel stationary envelope to her son. He walked to the cottage and didn't open the note until he was alone in his own bedroom. In block letters on Dew Drop letterhead, the note said, "Trev - sorry we couldn't hookup for a run today. We'll be back in a week. Counting the days. I think we're gonna be really good friends." Harley's signature was circled with a heart. =============================================== To be continued...