Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2003 21:32:08 -0600
From: Fredric L. Brothers <flbrothers@hotmail.com>
Subject: ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY - Part 13 (Man/Teen)
ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
By Fred Brothers
Copyright (c) 2003 Fredric Law Brothers - All Rights Reserved
--------------------------------------------------------
NOTE CAREFULLY: The following is a copyrighted work and is intended for
private, individual use. It may not be reproduced by any known method,
distributed or posted on additional web sites without the expressed
written consent of the author.
Disclaimer: This story is fiction. It bears no connection or
resemblance whatsoever to actual or specific persons and/or life
experiences or situations. If you do not appreciate gay,
intergenerational (that means man/boy love to the uninitiated or brain
dead) love stories, or you're under 18 years old, then please leave
now! Okay? You have been warned. Enough said!
--------------------------------------------------------
Part 13
Our first bona fide kiss - I'm desperately hoping the first of
many - is tentative...almost virginal. But the feel of Clay's lips is
stupendous. They are soft...pliant...and comfortable. We seem to mesh
like two finely produced machine parts. It feels so right ... so
completely right. It's everything I desire...Clayton is everything I
desire. I cannot recall anything as satisfying...anything as all
consuming ... anything as heavenly...in all my years of being sexually
active. I feel wonderfully alive and vibrant. And it was only a kiss
...a simple, sweet, practically chaste kiss!
Well...not completely chaste. There's some passion...passion from
both of us. I'm thrilled that there was enthusiasm from Clay ... real
passion ... and not just about his plants and landscaping. It was the
first time I'd known him to exhibit such emotion...such apparent sexual
desire.
As we embrace, I slowly inch my hand from manipulating his leg
stump and up and under the back of the athletic shirt he wears. It
feels so deliciously decadent...so forbidden...holding and embracing a
teenage boy like this. I am comfortable and surprised by the ease if
it all. I must readily admit that it is totally mind-blowing!
He puts his cheek next to mine and I throw my arms around him. He
puts both arms on my back and pulls me closer. Holding his body
against my bare chest is marvelous! Our bodies move slightly, and as
we do, I feel my nipple bar rubbing him; I get even hotter. He rubs my
bare back with his hand and arm stump, and my passions climb even more.
I slowly and gently move my hands over his back. I feel his
slight musculature through the material of the athletic jersey. I'm
wearing nothing aside from my exercise shorts, and the feel of his soft
hand and phenomenally silky arm stump on my bare skin is magnificent.
I'm exceeding hard and my cock snakes down one leg of the shorts. I'm
certain that Clay is aware of it...and its throbbing size and strength.
Yet, I now feel only the slightest physical response from the boy.
Yes, his breathing has increased and he is definitely perspiring. He
begins to push his crotch closer...into mine and onto my thigh...but I
can feel nothing happening. There is no apparent swelling ... or
throbbing...or...anything...anything that I can notice...notice at all
...coming from down there.
He pulls back slightly and moves to kiss my shoulder. I like it.
I like that he is taking some initiative and demonstrating a liking at
what we're doing. He's been so passive during our days together. I
don't know if the passivity is because he is afraid or inexperienced -
or both.
We smile at each other...then gently maneuver into "position" once
again. Our lips touch - tenderly and tentatively at first. Then
stronger...more robustly felt...more fiery...more hot blooded ... more
fanatical. My feelings surge. The love coursing through me is
untamed; it flows through me...and then into him...with uninterrupted
and unmistakable passion.
I open my mouth slightly and let my tongue caress his moist lips.
Clay responds by pressing himself still more forcibly into me...into my
encircling arms...into my burning, pounding body. He grips me tightly
...his lips flutter with what I take to be uncontrolled fervor. His
moans become louder...and even somewhat fiercer.
Again, he raises his leg stump high, and caresses the side of my
body and my thigh. It drives me frantic. This acceptance of the love
I offer is a positive and reinforcing sensation. He seems to be
letting go of some inhibitions and responding to basic instincts and
passions.
I rub and stroke him from his neck to the top of his delicious
butt, making sure I hold onto him securely. I nibble lightly on his
quivering lips. They are delicious. He seems to like everything we do
together.
I have in my arms - clinging tightly to me - my true desire...my
man ... the one I have been seeking - knowingly or unknowingly - for my
entire life. I know this for sure! I am certain! I am in love with
this man ... and hope to the heavens above that he returns that same
love. I know that my future happiness is dependant on it.
As we continue the embrace, I want him to take the lead. I want
him to take the initiative...to do with me...and to me...whatever he
wants to do. It is up to him how much further - if at all - we go.
And, sure enough, and to my great surprise, he does.
Clay pulls back. We gaze at each other. I smile at him and he
returns it with a wide one. Yet I sense that he's unsure...unsure of
what we are doing...if it is to his liking. His eyes are no longer
fixed on my face...but wander - flitting from place to place.
He's hesitant. I'm aware of it. I'm sure. Once again, he has
this vaguely distant, unfocused look. Maybe it's just a sex rush, but
somehow I don't think it is. His body begins to relax. Clay feels
limp in my arms. Something is wrong...something is very wrong.
"Is everything all right Clay?"
I notice that his eyes, usually such a vibrant blue, now appear
gray in the shadowy light filtering into the room.
He nods. "Yeah...uh, yeah it is." He smiles again - a sort of
lopsided half smile.
"Didn't you like what we just did?"
"Yeah. It was great.... Uh. Real great! "
I hang my head slightly. "I somehow...somehow have the feeling
there's a `but' on the way. Am I right?"
He nods stiffly. "Um...yeah...sorry...there is."
I still have my arms resting on his hips. "Do you want to discuss
it...tell me what's wrong?"
"Okay." He lowers his arms and looks down at the floor. He moves
slowly back - away from me. I notice he's now staring at my nipple
bar. He smiles when he sees it, apparently remembering the first time
he saw it...and played with it. He moves his hand and gently rubs his
delicate, long fingers over it once again. I immediately feel shivers
running through my body. I breathe deeply and toss my head back.
He withdraws his hand...and rubs it softly, and rather quickly,
over my chest and pecs. It is a casual move. I know and feel that
it's nothing overtly sexual.
"You have such a gggreat bbbod Cole. It's ssso, ssso awesome!
You know?"
I blush. "Thanks."
"I really lllove lllookin' at it...and at you. It's lllike...
lllike ssso perfect."
"Thanks again."
"You lllook lllike a rrreal young stud. Wow! Really! You dddo!
You lllook rrreally great!" He hops over to his crutches and sets
himself on them.
"Clay?"
He looks up...and stares at me like a suddenly frightened child...
a child who has just done something wrong and is anticipating a severe
scolding. The color drains from his face, and he seems to be trembling
slightly.
"Clay? Please! What's the matter? Please tell me." I walk up
to him and rub his face with the back of my hand. Again he leans into
it, like a kitten being scratched ... desiring contact ... but,
simultaneously, not sure if that hand offers what it is really yearning
for.
He speaks, but doesn't look at me. "I'm fffeeling ... uh ... I'm
fffeeling suh-suh-suddenly very, vvvery tie-tie-tired, Cole. You know,
sleepy? I thih-thih-think I...uh...need ttto go to mmmy rrroom ... you
know, to the geh-geh-guest rrroom. I need a nnnap...to rrrest...I thih-
think?"
"Would you like me to go with you?" I ask. My voice sounds
somewhat whiney and needful. It's as if I'm pleading with him and
getting somewhat pissed off at him for his rather abrupt and
unpredictable behavior
He nods. "Yeah. Uh...meh-meh-maybe...you nuh-nuh-know, maybe you
cah-cah-can heh-heh-help mmme...a little?"
"Yes. Certainly. I think I'd like that."
He again gives me that half smile and moves slowly to the guest
bedroom. I turn down the bed and, after propping his crutches close
by, he sits down.
His head is down, his body slumps forward, his shoulders hunched.
I notice he's breathing deeply and is still trembling slightly. "Are
you cold?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm okay...jjjust tired, I thih-
think."
"I realize it's been a busy day for you...both physically and
emotionally. Okay? I understand. So why don't you just lie down...
rest...try to relax...maybe get some sleep."
"Yeah. I thi-think I'll dddo thah-that." He looks up at me, with
a rather childlike, pleading look. "Cole? Can I ask yah suh-
somethin'?"
"Sure. Anything."
"Do yah thi-think...ummm...thi-think yah cccould...lllike...rrrub
me in with...yah know sssome of that lllotion...again? Llllike yah did
lah-lah-last time? Pleeeease?"
I'm surprised by his request...but thrilled. "Of course." I
flash him a big smile. "I'd be happy to do it. Absolutely!"
"Mmmmy arm? Yah know wwwhat I'm sssayin'? Yah ssseem to lllike
ruh-ruh-rubbin' it before...and I lllike it tttoo." This time he gives
me a full smile.
"Yeah. Sure!" I don't know what to make of the request. Is it
just something to placate me? Or is his request a genuine appeal for my
continued attentions to him.
I go into my bathroom and return with two bottles, holding each
one up in turn. "This is the one we used, and this one's an extra rich
variety ... more softening stuff in it. And it's totally non-greasy.
Which one?"
He shrugs. "I lllike the smeh-smeh-smell of the one yah use
already. Lemme smeh-smell the nnnew one."
"It has no fragrance."
"Oh." He thinks. "Lets tttry the nnnew one. Okay?"
He is lying in the middle of the bed. His hand is resting on the
center of his chest - his right arm extended outward. This is the
first time I have an unobstructed view of his pits. Since I am now able
to see both pits easily, I quickly notice how little hair he has there.
Now, I must admit that armpits are a tremendous turn-on for me.
While I do not like much body hair on men, I love big, bushy, hairy
armpits. I don't know why. I guess consistency is not one of my
strong suits.
I love to saturate the pits and rub my face into them, savoring
the exquisite taste and masculine smells. And while Clay's pits are
quite beautiful - wonderfully shaped and molded - they are also almost
hairless. I mean they're not totally hairless - small, cute clumps of
the beautiful red hair are in each pit. But I'm quite surprised by
what I see - or by what I don't see. Or am I?
He wiggles slightly to make himself more comfortable. He is
breathing deeply...and I watch the rise and fall of his chest. His
chest - what I can see of it, since he is wearing a rather loose
fitting athletic shirt - is not at all defined. His nipples and
breasts are rather prominent, forming volcano-shaped mounds with little
peaks; all this above his mostly flat abdomen.
I notice something else for the first time. Clay has a small
potbelly. It's nothing major but rather obvious now. I never realized
it before, but since he is now lying flat on the bed, it seems quite
apparent. It begins protruding just below his navel and is so cute. I
love everything about his physical appearance. Again, it strikes me
how much he resembles a young boy - with beautifully unmuscled arms,
leg and chest. While giving my eyes complete freedom to wander where
they will, Clay's beauty begins to overwhelm me once more.
I'm anxious to continue massaging his arm...to continue to soothe
and touch his body. And, maybe - just maybe - be able to touch other
still unexplored areas as well.
I sit at his right side, moving my hands to grasp Clay's shortened
arm. As my hands approach, he raises the stump and I gently take it
into my hands. I rub it soothingly and gently. The sensation of his
palpitating arm stump, grasped in the palms of my hand, is fantastic.
But I notice he's beginning to cry.
"What's wrong Clay?" I ask in my most reassuring, but persuasive,
voice.
He doesn't respond, just closes his eyes, shakes his head and
turns away from me. I continue to rub the arm gently. I have not put
any lotion on.
The skin is so soft...but I feel a callous or two, which I assume
is from wearing the prosthesis. I feel the short lengths of bones in
the arm, and I purposely press down harder so that I can feel them
completely...as best I can.
I look closely at his arm. The skin is pale...almost translucent.
It has freckles all over, as does much of Clay's body. I gather he
hates these freckles, judging from his earlier ramblings about his
physical shortcomings. But I think they're quite lovely - handsome
really. I can also see the veins slightly below the surface...the blue
patterns etched on the delicate skin. I grin when I realize it looks
so much like a topographical map.
The short length of arm below the elbow is moving rapidly; I
gently hold it with both hands, feeling it vibrate in my palms. He is
still facing away from me and still seems to be crying lightly. The
constant wiggling of his arm stump makes me suspect that he is very
nervous. Something's bothering him...bothering him quite severely. I
remember Franny's words about him being "off" before he sees his
physician. So, I try to ignore his strange reaction ... but for how
long?
I continue rubbing the arm more forcefully, now working both above
and below the elbow. Clay begins to make little moaning sounds between
his apparent sobs. I raise his arm and lightly kiss the tip. I rub my
lips around the end, and then let my tongue wash the entire surface.
He gasps when my tongue begins to lavish attention on the slightly
roughened scar. Clay looks at me, and I beam at him.
I return to lapping at his lower arm, while my hands massage the
upper portion - from the elbow to the shoulder, including his
delightful bicep. I begin gently, but gradually, to increase the
pressure, while sucking steadily on the stump. Clayton is moaning
delightfully and when I look at him, he smiles at me and nods slightly.
Soon I gradually move my hand up and into his practically smooth
armpit. It is such a soft, downy feeling. The small amount of hair
present has the feel of the most delicate silk on my skin. I rub the
back of my hand over the smooth skin and the strands of hair, feeling
the contours of his anatomy and reveling in the delightful wetness
that's developing.
I move my mouth over his elbow and to his upper arm. I thoroughly
bathe his elbow, again reveling in the softness of his skin...and the
unique taste it exudes. I breathe deep and often, paying incredible
attention to Clay's unique, and unbelievably delightful aroma. The
pleasure is marvelous. It lay beneath the slightly masking odor of the
soap he'd used. But it is still quite discernable...and delightful.
It is a mild, invigorating fragrance - a wonderful combination of man
and boy; the apotheosis of this unique individual.
As I move to lightly suck and lick on his bicep, I glance at
Clay's face. His expression is rather blank. His eyes are tightly
shut and he's breathing moderately through his mouth. But his facial
appearance is not one of ecstasy...or excitement...or even happiness or
joy. It's an unbrokenly bland look...and I must admit that I find it
more than slightly disconcerting. His eyes flutter somewhat and his
lips twitch occasionally, but nothing more is to be seen. I cannot
remember ever having been with a partner who has returned so little in
the way of mutual desire and passion.
However, despite some misgivings, I continue my loving care of his
body...and, believe me, I relish every second of what I'm doing. Every
aspect of Clay's physical appearance is a joy to my senses - everything
is making me more stimulated than I remember being. Possibly, because
his apparent lack of reaction and demonstrative behavior, I work harder
than ever before. I pull every item from my arsenal of sexual tools
and techniques.
The feel of Clay's incredibly smooth, soft skin on my lips and
tongue is electrifying. When I have thoroughly saturated the entire
surface of his arm, I lift my head and see the light being reflected
off his alabaster skin. I smile but he doesn't see me. I lower my
head again, this time aiming directly for his luscious armpit.
I kiss his glorious skin very lightly, reveling in the wetness...
and the warmth...and the overpowering smoothness...of this glorious
area of this marvelous man/boy. The light sprinkling of hair tickles
my lips and helps create an enveloping aura of mounting happiness and
increasing desire. When I begin to suck the hairs into my mouth and
pull them with my lips, Clayton begins to emit a few delightful squeaks
and high-pitched grunts. I love this rather demonstrative response -
demonstrative for him, that is.
As I continue wetting down the delightful hollow, I move one hand
gently onto his chest and start to rub very lightly through the jersey
he's wearing. As my hand rubs over one of his breasts, Clay flinches
and sits straight up. His eyes open and a distinct look of panic is
spread across his face.
I am at a loss. I don't know what to say or do. I know it sounds
like bragging, but I can never remember such an adverse reaction to my
lovemaking approach...or my lovemaking techniques.
Maybe his age is working against me. Maybe my age is working
against me.
I withdraw my hands from anywhere near his body. I put them on my
lap...and look away. He lies back again. I slowly stand and cover him
with the blanket.
"I think ... um...I think you should get some...uh ... rest now
Clayton. It's been a tough day." I bend over and kiss him lightly on
his forehead. I flash him a quick smile.
"I'm ssso sssorry Cole. But...buh-buh-but tha-that's...yah nuh-
nuh-know ... the fuh-fuh-first time anyone tuh-tuh-touches mmme lllike
thah-that." He looks crushed.
He avoids looking at me...but stares straight ahead. This means
he's staring directly at my crotch - and my still covered, but very
erect, cock. The fluids leaking into my underwear and shorts have
created dark patches of discoloration around the front. I'm sure he's
aware of my situation.
"I understand, Clay. I do! I realize we've...uh...that I've just
taken things a...uh...well, a little too.... Shit! Never mind." I move
away from the bed. "That's all. I'm sorry. Sorry that I've put us
both in such...such difficult circumstances." I close the drapes and
turn out the lights. "I'll wake you when dinner's ready...and we'll
eat ... have a nice dinner together...then I'll drive you home. School
day tomorrow. Okay with you?"
"Yeah." He immediately turns on his side, facing away from me.
I close the door...and just stand outside his room. I lean back.
My head is down and I'm feeling rather miserable...and quite disgusted
with myself for my lack of restraint. I hear the boy sniffling.
My weekend with Clayton is over...over....
I walk slowly, and with some discomfort, into my bedroom.
I close the door ...
close the door on my future ...
and his ...
and any future we may have had ...
together.
The End of Part 13
(To Be Continued ....)
--------------------------------------------------------
You have finished Part 13 of my latest story. Thank you. I'm very
sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but circumstances made the
situation unavoidable. Hopefully, future chapters will return to the
10 - 14 day schedule.
I'd love to know your reactions to my characters and to the story.
Anything you may want to say is greatly appreciated.
flbrothers@hotmail.com
Please put the name of the story on the subject line of any emails.
Thanks again.
--------------------------------------------------------