Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2007 14:26:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: Along Came Justin (1)

All those usual disclaimers apply here. This is a work of fiction, intended
to entertain those who have no objection to sexual fantasy involving adult
and young teen males, and who are of legal age to be here in the first
place. Comments are always most appreciated, and acknowledged by the
author.

(1)

   After much thought, and even brooding, on the matter, I had finally just
reached a point of acceptance, and moved on, never having actually put a
"why" to it. Perhaps some genetic anomaly, a mutant gene, if you will, or,
an imbalance of some type in my basic body chemistry; Whatever, the fact is
that I am, for rigid reasons unknown, a boy lover.

   One thread of thought that I had followed repeatedly led me to the
conclusion that in some mysterious quirk of fate, my early sexual interests
in other young boys, back in the day, when I was one myself, just had
simply never changed. Through some under-developed emotional shortfall, as
my mind and body had continued its treck toward full maturity, and
adulthood as we know it, my sexual interests just seemed to freeze-frame,
and remain devoted to boys between the ages of about twelve, and fifteen,
even though I was now well into my thirties. Now, in my particular country
of residence, this malady of mine is not necessarily a blessing,
particularly in the eyes of society, and especially in the eyes of the laws
of the land, and was, therefore, problematic.

   My painful awareness of this national outlook is what had, lo these many
years, kept me carefully, and strictly, on top of my self-control with
regard to this little predilection of mine, frequently to the point of my
great frustration. While I never failed to seize any opportunity to
visually enjoy the objects of my affections, and even often times had
actively sought out said opportunities to watch them in their natural
environments, i.e. shopping malls, arcades, parks, and sports fields, I had
never once let my bubbling desires ever consider, even for a moment, taking
things to the next level, the level of actually establishing direct
contact, or some type of relationship with any boy, save for the occasional
exchange of a small smile, or a quickly mumbled "hi," in passing.

   All of that, I was soon to learn, would change, both quickly, and
dramatically, and all of it would be because of one particular young boy
entering my life in the most innocent of ways.

   I had first spotted him as he bustled back and forth between the Condo
he was moving into, within the complex that I called home, and the U-haul
truck that was filled with the family belongings. My finely tuned boy-gadar
had been, apparently, in fine form that morning, as an unheard, but
none-the-less adamant, inner voice kept compelling me to step out onto the
small second story balcony that cantilevered off my living room. Finally
giving in to the nagging compulsion, I slid open the sliding glass door,
and went out on the balcony, and glanced around. My heart skipped a beat,
as my eyes focused on the boy standing on the sidewalk below me, as he
paused to tug the hem of the tee shirt he wore from the waist of his
shorts.

   He was about twelve, I thought, or a recent thirteen, and so boyishly
cute as to very nearly be pretty.  A sandy, not-quite-blond, shock of hair
topped his head, worn long, and in a kind of layered style, so that it
covered his ears, and hung fairly long at the back of his neck. He was
slight of build, not thin, but more of a petite stature, and, I guessed,
perhaps five-five, or six, in height, and not more than around a hundred,
hundred-ten pounds. His shorts were surprisingly short, and snug, when
judged by the current style of favor, the dreaded baggy look that so many
of today's youth seem to prefer, and the fairly snug crotch of them offered
just the finest hint of the boy treasures that I knew lurked just behind
the thin material. His legs were tanned, and perfectly formed, appearing
smooth as glass from this distance, and the trim little ankles were
partially encased in white half-socks which terminated in a pair of
slightly scruffy white, low-top tennis shoes. His tee shirt, which now hung
untucked from the shorts, was a vibrant red, emblazoned with some type of
logo, and my heart skipped yet another beat, as he dragged the hem of it up
to dab at his apparently sweaty brow, a maneuver that bared the golden
toned expanse of his soft tummy, and a goodly portion of his smooth, boyish
chest, albeit briefly.

   My cock stirred as I stared at that incredible swatch of youthful flesh,
then, all too soon, he let go the shirt-tail, which fell back into place,
and thwarted my view of his creamy smooth torso. He glanced up then, our
eyes suddenly connecting, and my racing heart skipped yet again, as he
flashed me an amazing white toothed smile, and called out a hello. It was a
look I would happily have held for a thousand years, both stunning, and
breath taking, all rolled into one perfect moment. I smiled right back,
lifting my hand, and giving the boy a small wave, as I leaned forward,
resting against the railing of the deck, and returned his greeting, as I
said hi back to him.

   "My name is Justin," he called, the voice filled with purity, and a not-
yet-fully-changed tone, but still resonating with that sweet, higher octave
of puberty ridden boys.  "Me and my Mom are moving in here...in number
nineteen, actually...do you live here already?"

   Still grinning like some sly cat who had captured his mousey prey, I
nodded, and replied,

   "Hello Justin, and welcome...and yes, I do, indeed, live right here...in
number two-oh-six, to be exact."

   He grinned widely, nodding, which caused a stirring of his longish
locks, a few errant strands dipping onto his forehead, and, for just an
instant, I could almost capture the scent of his hair, and the sum of that
heady aroma of young boy that I knew he would be emanating.

   "Awesome!" he chirped, then, curled an arm upward, and across his
forehead, as if shielding his eyes from the sun, and his tee shirt hem slid
upward along with the gesture, giving me another glimpse of his creamy
smooth tummy. "So, what's your name, Mister?'

   As I struggled to not drool all over the deck, I smiled again, and
answered,

   "Well, Justin, it's Robert, actually, but all of my friends call me Rob,
which I would very much prefer to "Mister," if you don't mind...being a
"Mister" makes me feel even older than I am."

   He giggled, the melodic tones wafting to my ears, as I copped another
hungry gaze at that exposed tummy, then said,

   "Rob...ok, cool...so Rob... and, you don't look so old to me...but, do you
ever use any of this neat stuff around here...?...I mean, I sorta checked it
out, and there is, like, an awesome pool, and a video game room, and
ping-pong, and even basketball courts, which SO rocks...and even tennis, as
if I much cared!"

   I had to laugh, his abject enthusiasm, and his obvious priorities neatly
matching my own, and I nodded, and replied,

   "Oh, definitely yes, it's a good part of the reason that I bought here,
actually, and, guess what, I pretty much like them in the same order as you
listed them, how about that?"

   Another melodious giggle, as he again nodded, then dragged the bang-like
strands of hair from his sweet face, as he chirped,

   "Cool...wow...so you like to swim...cool...and you like to play video games,
too...awesome...what's your favorite...?"

   Suddenly I was really happy that one of my friends had introduced me to,
and gotten me hooked, on PS2 games about a year ago, and also happy that I
had since become somewhat of an aficionado, as I told him,

   "Well, I like a lot of them, actually, but maybe GTA, or Bully...JakIII
is cool, too...and any of the sport ones are great..."

   "Sweet!" he gushed, "Those are all awesome...and I like Final Fantasy,
too!"

   How appropriate, I though, given that YOU are the walking culmination of
about a zillion of My fantasies...but, I said,

   "Really...well, maybe you can show me Final Fantasy sometime, I never
played that one."

   "Yea, sure...totally...you into shooting hoops, too?" he asked.

   Nodding, I stole another peek at the bare patch of tummy, and replied,

   "Definitely, yes, its my usual work out, actually...I try to get on the
court every day after work...its what keeps me from getting older.."

   His brow furrowed slightly, and he gave a slow shake with his head, as
he said,

   "Your funny...I already told you...you don't seem so old to me...but,
whatever...so maybe sometime me and you can play some one-on-one?"

   Oh, could we, I thought...indeed, a long, slow, session of one-on-one
with this little hottie was right up there on the top of my list of
"wants," but I knew he actually meant hoops, so I answered,

   "Anytime, Sport...'course you have to spot me points for the age
difference."

   Just then, a woman I assumed to be his Mother emerged from the doorway
of the condo, and called to the boy, something about getting a move on, and
he waved in her direction, then, as she stepped back inside, he looked back
up at me, and grinned that dazzling smile, and told me,

   "I gotta get back to moving stuff...maybe later I'll come and see if you
wanna play a game, or whatever, ok?"

   Oh baby-boy, I most definitely want to play games with you...only very
different games than you are suggesting, I'm sure. Putting on what I hoped
was my best smile, and said,

   "Sounds like a plan to me, Justin...I'll be here all
afternoon...two-oh-six, remember?"

   He nodded, and flashed me another grin, as he said,

   "Yup, got it...its way cool meeting you, Rob...I'll see you later, for
sure...!"

   With that, he turned, and scampered off toward the u-haul, leaving me
standing on my balcony, a half hard cock in my pants, as I stared at his
wiggly little butt until I lost sight of him. Shaking my head at the wonder
of my seemingly good fortune, I wondered, as I went back inside, how much
frustration I was going to suffer from the close proximity of this little
heart-throb.

   Over the next couple of hours, I busied myself with the domestic chores
associated with the single life, and had just settled into my recliner,
when the door bell sounded. In that I was not expecting visitors, I let
myself hope that it might just be Justin, and I was aware that my cock was
also entertaining the same hope, as it stirred in my pants. I swung the
door open, and felt an instant surge deep in my balls, as my gaze settled
on, indeed, Justin's smiling face. He stood there, all but glowing in his
overwhelming cuteness, with a well used basketball tucked under one arm,
and I had to resist the powerful urge to just sweep him up into my arms,
and carry him off to my bedroom. I gulped as that image momentarily gelled
in my minds eyes, then, instinctively resorted to the self-defense
mechanisms that had heretofore allowed me to manage such temptations. I
gave him a smile of my own, and said,

   "Hey Justin...hi...what's up?"

   Still nearly overpowering my resistive will, he continued to dazzle me
with that grin, and those dark, shining eyes, as he brought the weathered
ball forward, grasping it with both hands, as he taunted me with it, and
asked,

   "Hi Rob...so, I finished the moving stuff...you got your game on...?...I
got time to give you a lesson, if you're down with it...?"

   I chuckled, instantly conjuring up wicked thoughts of the games, and
lessons, that I would so love to share with this cutie, then forced away
the thoughts, as I replied,

   "Oh really...?...think your pretty hot stuff on the court, do we...well, I
may have advanced into "old phart" status in years, but, I think that
experience factor might just get me through a little one-on-one with a
rookie like you...sure, game on...come on in, and I'll go change into some
shorts."

   He giggled that sweet, melodic sound as before, and stepped inside, and
I closed the door behind him. He moved into the living room area, and
glanced around, his eyes going wider, as he checked out my recently
purchased wide screen TV.

   "Wow...cool...that TV is awesome!" he chirped excitedly.

   "Yea, it is pretty awesome actually, I just got it last week, and I am
definitely loving it...some of the channels on my satellite are HD too, and
I even splurged on a DVR to go with it, so I can watch DVD's in HD too...it
is pretty amazing, for sure."

   He nodded, then moved to the sofa, and sat his cute little butt down,
showing me a serious amount of those smooth, creamy legs as he did so. I
looked, of course, letting my gaze linger briefly on the nicely packed
crotch of the snug shorts, then forced myself to look away, as I headed to
the bedroom to change.

   "The remote is on the table there, if you want to check it out...I'll be
right back...need to go take my vitamins so I can whip your cute little
butt...!" I told him, as I went down the hall, and I heard him giggle again
at the remark, then, the television came to life, as I entered the bedroom.

   I dug out a pair of cargo shorts, and a fresh tee shirt, then, stripped
off my Dockers, and the pull over type golf shirt I had on. I moved to the
walk-in closet, searching for my tennis shoes, then, back to the bedroom,
and I froze. Justin was standing in the doorway, equally as motionless as I
was, as his wide-eyed gaze drifted slowly over my briefs clad frame, and I
could have sworn that his eyes lingered briefly on the lumps in my briefs,
but it was probably just wishful thinking on my part. His eyes moved up
then to meet mine, and a sweet flush of deep ping crawled over his smooth
cheeks, as he stammered,

   "Oh jeez...gosh...I'm sorry Rob...I...um...I was just gonna ask you which
channels were the HD ones...I didn't mean to...oh, jeez...!"

   I got over the shock of the moment, and walked over to the bed, and as
calmly as possible, I slipped the shorts on, as I told him,

   "No problem, buddy, it's just another guy in his undies, right...?...no
biggie...it's not like you caught me naked, or worse, right?"

   Still blushing sweetly, he flashed me a sheepish little smile, and
nodded his head, then replied,

   "Right...I guess so...but, I still shoulda...well...not just, like, come in
here like that..."

   I walked over to him, and ruffled his soft hair, chuckling, as I told
him kiddingly,

   "Forget it sport, okay...no harm done here...lets just say that now you
owe me one...and the next time its me who gets to see your undies..."

   His blush deepened a tad, and a strange little smile played over his
lush mouth, as he nodded again, and kind of squeaked, his voice breaking
some, as he uttered softly,

   "Oh, jeez...!"

   With that little difficult-to-define remark, he turned, and headed back
down the hall, as I called out a couple of HD channel numbers to him, and
added that I would be ready in a second. I finished changing, and made a
brief pit stop in the john, then, went back to the living room. Justin was
sprawled comfortably on the sofa, working the remote between channels, and
when he saw me, he smiled broadly, and rattled off a string of comments
heaping praise on the television, and the HD reception. I settled in along
side him, as he continued surfing around the channels, not actually finding
too many in the HD mode, and I told him,

   "There are not really that many HD channels out yet, but wait until you
see an HD DVD movie...that's what's really impressive!"

   He clicked off the set then, and turned to me, and said, once more
grinning the dazzling smile,

   "Ok, cool...maybe sometime we can, like, watch movies then...but right
now, it is time for your lesson...and I am SO feeling the burn, too...bring
your A-game dude...this might actually hurt a little...!"

   The brief, if you will pardon the pun, awkward moment apparently past,
he stood, and headed for the door, with me in hot pursuit, and brazenly
perving his small bubble butt as it gyrated under the snug fitting shorts,
as I mumbled snide little comebacks regarding the need for my A-game.

   Justin certainly proved his mettle on the court, and the level of his
game skills actually was surprising for his tender age, both in his
shooting, and his handling of the ball, and those skills carried straight
through to his defense, as well. I gave him a definite run for his money in
the end, but it took significantly more effort that I had expected. Of
course, it was entirely possible that my actual A-game might have tanked
slightly, when at about thirty minutes into the strenuous match, he paused
to peel off his tee shirt. To use the excuse of my being majorly distracted
from that point on is probably a cop-out, but, with him being all but
naked, and scantily trussed in only those very small shorts, I experienced
serious difficulty in keeping my eyes on the basketball, rather than his
balls.

   After about another half hour, we called it good, and let ourselves out
of the fenced in court. Both of were sweating, and panting slightly, though
my shortness of breath may well have been due to his very exposed, and very
lithe little body, combined with the incredible scents of "boy" that
emanated from him. I suggested a cold drink at my condo, and Justin readily
agreed, swabbing at his flushed face with his discarded tee shirt, which,
to my abject delight, he did not put back on, but flung it across his
shoulder, as we walked toward my place, verbally jabbing each others
performance on the court. It was actually a whole other sort of performance
with him that I had in mind, but, none the less, it had been pretty amazing
watching his smooth, slender body move on the court, and, all that body
contact had not been difficult to accept either.

   Back inside the condo, I retrieved cold sodas from the fridge, then
joined Justin on the sofa, where he was again toying with the television,
surfing through the channels. I handed him his drink, and he quickly
inhaled fully half of it, then, say back, and passed of a series of small
burps, as I chuckled. He blushed slightly, giving me that cute sheepish
look, then giggled, obviously quite proud of himself. I reached out and
ruffled his soft hair, and told him,

   "Nice, dude...didn't your Mother ever tell you that is so not polite?"

   He shrugged, turning his attention back to the television, and settling
on some game show, then toed off his tennis shoes, and glanced at me,
asking,

   "Is it cool if I put my feet on the table?"

   I nodded, making the pretense of looking down at his feet, while
actually checking out his smooth legs, and the gathered crotch of his
shorts, where just a hint of is concealed treasures were outlined by the
clinging cloth, and I answered,

   "Sure, I do it all the time...but thanks for loosing the shoes first."

He idly nodded, as he lifted those sculpted legs, and extended them, his
small feet coming to rest on the table. I inched as close to him as I
dared, and our bare thighs made just the lightest of contact, but it was
enough to send sharp jolts to my balls, and thicken my cock. He seemed not
to notice, or at least he made no effort to move away, so I kept my leg
right there, as I settled back, and savored the silkiness, and warmth of
his skin. I could smell his hair, a faint lingering aroma of what must have
been a recent shampoo, dampened some now by his recent sweating, but even
that smelled heavenly, and I longed to reach out and stroke his bare skin,
to touch him in all the wrong places. I shifted slightly sideways, as he
leaned forward to put the now empty soda can on the table, then, leaned
fully back into the cushions, and clasped his hands behind his neck,
concentration on the game show q&a's. I looked closely at him, taking in
each perfect feature of his face, so very cute, and boyish. A few errant
strands of his soft hair had tumbled onto his forehead, like stray bangs,
and I noted the heaviness of his rather thick eyebrows, and the dark orbs
of his eyes, then, the very slight uptick of his nose, and the lush
fullness of his mouth, topping the gentle curve of his perfect little
chin. I focused intently on his upper lip for a moment, and detected just a
hint of some light peach fuzz shimmering there in the light, then let my
eyes flick to his exposed underarms, smiling to myself, as I saw the sparse
emerging hair tufts sprouting there, all evidence of his obvious
progression into puberty, and I made a mental wager with myself that, given
the proper stimulation, the boy would certainly be capable of that most
telling evidence of full on puberty, the production of that wondrous
essence that I so often dreamed of, fondly known as boy cum.

   As I sat there all but staring at Justin, I wanted nothing more in the
world than to lean over, and lick that creamy underarm, and to run my
tongue through those few silky strands of fine hair there, while I passed
my palm over that soft little tummy, and satin smooth chest. I imagined the
sense of his small nipples under my fingertips, as I brought them to tiny
eraser points, feeling them stiffen under my touch, and then, to lick them,
and suck them, as my wandering hand slid lower, to seek out the boy
treasure I knew lurked behind those small shorts, to grasp its hardness
with my fingers, and stroke it, sensing its heat, and the pulsing of its
excitement. I closed my eyes, and shuddered slightly, feeling the wetness
of my oozing precum seeping into my briefs, and I forced my hungry gaze off
of the boy, and his nubile little body, fearing that I might just loose it
all together, and do just that, or, at the very least, unload in my shorts.

   I was hard as a rock, my undeniable erection poking forcefully at my
shorts, and I glanced down, thankful for the somewhat loose fitting shorts
I had selected. I glanced back at Justin, thankful he was still seemingly
engrossed in the game show, then, stood, and quickly retreated toward the
kitchen, moving away from him to conceal my erection, as I told him I'd
bring him another soda. Once inside the kitchen, I hurried into the small
half-bath that was off the adjoining laundry room, and closed the
door. Quickly, my heart hammering in my chest, I tore open the shorts, and
pushed them, and my wet briefs down my thighs. My cock sprung free, rigid,
and throbbing, and I grasped it, pumping it as if my life depended on it,
and in not more than a dozen furious pumps, it erupted, long, thick ropes
of my semen ejecting forcefully into the open toilet. I was puffing like I
had run a four minute mile, and small dots of light danced in front of my
eyes, and I leaned forward to brace my hand against the wall, as a wave of
light headedness washed over me. I gulped air, slowly calming, as my cock
blessedly deflated, and the ache in my balls eased. Standing straight, I
flushed the toilet, then, washed up at the vanity. Shaking my head in near
disbelief of my actions, I exited the bath, and got more sodas from the
fridge, then, more composed now, returned to the living room, and the
amazing boy called Justin.

   The show he was into was just finishing up, and he happily took the new
soda from me, and glugged it right down, then, turned sideways on the sofa,
and tucked one perfect leg up under him. I sat down, and he reached out to
lightly punch my arm, as he said,

   "So then, Rob...you will, I suppose, be wanting a rematch...?...another
chance to learn the fundamentals of the game of b-ball?"

   I chuckled, and replied,

   "Well Sport, actually, I don't know about that...I seem to remember
dunking my share of buckets out there...maybe it's you who may want a
rematch..."

   He giggled, and punched my arm again, so, I tossed a bit of caution to
the wind, and dropped my hand down to grip his firm, smooth thigh on the
bended leg. I gave the succulent flesh a firm squeeze, and fought off the
temptation to slid my hand higher, and into his crotch. He made no effort
to push me away, so I squeezed his thigh again, this time kind of sliding
my fingers over that silky skin, and he tensed slightly, and uttered a
small gasp, and I actually saw his penis flex inside the snug shorts. Our
eyes met, and held briefly, then, he flushed, the deep pinkness again
washing into his cheeks. He blinked several times, then suddenly rolled off
the sofa, and stood up. I let my eyes focus on his now eye-level crotch,
and my breath caught in my throat, as I found myself staring directly at an
obvious young erection that poked at the small shorts. As I tore my stunned
gaze away, and looked up at him, he whirled, and almost trotted to the
door, and pulled it open, and he said over his shoulder,

   "I'm really late, Rob...thanks for the Cokes...see you later...!"

   And, just like that, he was gone. I rocked back onto the sofa, scarcely
believing what had just taken place, and I shook my head, wondering if I
had dreamt it all. But then, that sweet lingering scent of him washed over
me, and I clearly saw the empty soda cans on the table, all undeniable
evidence that the boy had in fact just been here with me. I sighed heavily,
and closed my eyes, as a crystal clear image formed in my mind of that
proud little boner pushing strongly at those small shorts, and I realized
then that he had known I was looking at him, and clearly seeing, his
excitement from my touching him, and that he had kind of freaked in his
youthful embarrassment, and fled. I smiled to myself, more than pleased
with his reaction to so benign a contact, and wondered if he was, at this
very moment, tucked away somewhere doing exactly what I had been so
compelled to do in the small half-bath.

   I feverently hoped that he was doing just that, and, even more
feverently, I hoped that he would soon be back for another lesson in the
fundamentals of whatever this little game we seemed to having going on
actually was.

To Be Continued)
Storyguy22@yahoo.com