Date: Tue, 01 Jul 2003 16:03:52 -0500
From: Fredric L. Brothers <flbrothers@hotmail.com>
Subject: ANOTHER LAWN BOY STORY - Part 3 (Man/Teen)

  A Disclaimer:  If you don't appreciate gay, intergenerational love
 stories (that means man/boy love to the uninitiated or brain dead) or
  you are under 18 years old, please leave this site now.  Okay?  You
                    have been warned.  Enough said!

The following story is fiction.  It bears no connection or resemblance
   to actual or specific persons and/or any real life situations or
                             experiences.


                       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.
       --------------------------------------------------------

                                Part 3

     I am riveted in place.
     I cannot move.
     Moreover, I don't want to move.
     My eyes are shut tight.
     I don't want to open them.
     I don't want the spell to break.

     I cannot believe what has just happened.
     The gossamer feel of his lips on mine,
     Is like nothing I've ever know.
     I feel transported out of my body.
     I know...I know for sure...
     That my life will never be the same.


     "Cole?  Cole?  You all right, man?"

      I  hear  his voice...faint...distant...like hearing it through  a
heavy drape.

     "Cole?"

      I  very slowly open my eyes.  Clay's fabulous face is directly in
front  of  me  -  and completely fills my field of vision.   The  image
screen  of  my  brain is overflowing with the picture of this  gorgeous
youth.  "Huh?" I respond.

     The haze clouding my brain begins to clear.

     "You okay?" he says with genuine concern in his voice.

     "Oh?  Okay?  Okay!  Yes, I'm okay.  Just...yeah, just fine."

     "Good."

     I take a few deep breaths.  "What was that?"

     "Huh?  What was what?"

     "That!  What you just did."

      "Me?"  He has a strange, almost fearful expression.  "I didn't do
anything, Cole."

     "Really?"

     "Really."

     I am thoroughly confused.  "Oh.  Sorry.  I'm sorry.  Forget I said
anything."

     Now I'm crushed...and humiliated...and saddened.  I cannot believe
it  was not real - a dream.  Christ!  I'm hallucinating.  This boy  has
begun  to  affect  me  in  ways  more serious...more  serious  than  my
occasional flights of fantasy.

     I lower my head.  I feel my whole body go limp.

     "Do you mean the kiss?" he asks in a near whisper.

      I  look up immediately, my eyes wide, my mouth open.  "Yes.   The
kiss.  Was there a kiss?"

     "Sure there was!  I kissed you."

     "You did?"

     "Of course I did.  Why do you ask?"

     "I ask because...because I thought it was...was a...a..."

     He stares at me.  "You thought it was what?"

     "Okay.  I thought it was all just a dream."

      Now  he  giggles  lightly.  "A dream?  Not quite,  man.   It  was
rrreal."

     "Why?  Why?  Uh...why did you do it?"

     "Do what?"

     "Kiss me."  I'm growing antsy...impatient.  "Why did you kiss me?"

      He  shrugs...and smiles.  "Because I lllike you, Cole.  I  lllike
you very much.  You seem like a real great friend."

      "A  friend.   I  see.   And this is the way you  treat  all  your
friends?"

     "Yeah.  I do."

      "Okay?   Okay?   You...you do this with...with all your  friends.
Right?"

     "Right!  We kiss each other...like that.  We do it all the tttime.
It's fffun.  Isn't it?"

      I  nod  rather noncommittally.  "I suppose...if that's  what  you
like."

      "I  do...I...like it very much."  He takes another drink of  soda.
"Maybe  I'd  better  explain it better.  I like kissing  only  my  best
friends - my closest, dearest, most ssspecial friends.  And you're  one
of them nnnow, Cole."

      I'm  embarrassed  -  by  my reaction...and  by  his  honesty  and
forthrightness.  "Thanks, Clay.  Thanks a lot."

     "Well?"

     "Well what?"

     "Did you like it?  The kiss?"

      I  swallow hard, blush slightly and give an embarrassed grin.  "I
loved it, Clay.  It was wonderful...and it made me feel very special."

      "Thanks.  I loved it too.  Very much.  And you make...uh...please
don't be upset with what I'm going to say...but...but you make me  feel
very  ssspecial too, Cole.  And you make me fffeel accepted...and liked
...and respected.  I feel rrreal...real fondness for you...and... "

      I  slowly  raise my arm, and with the back of my hand I  rub  his
silken  cheek.   He  leans into my caress and closes  his  eyes,  while
seeming  to  purr  slightly.  His  skin  is so  incredibly  smooth...so
amazingly soft...nothing to catch the hairs on the back of my hand.  It
is without any facial hair...or acne...or blemishes whatsoever.

     He tenderly smiles...and it lights up my world.

     We stand this way for a few minutes until he speaks...speaks in  a
low  and, for me, a very sexy voice.  Everything his says sounds  sexy.
"I  think...now...you'd  better get  bbback to your work  or  else  we
wwwon't have any time to look at the sssketches."

      "Definitely.  Time to get...back...to work."  I turn and begin to
walk slowly to my workroom/office. I'm still stealing glances at him...
this  strange, beautiful, charismatic, enigmatic boy.  This  incredible
teen who has totally captivated me.  I have lost my will...and my heart
...to him...and don't honestly know why...or how.

     "Oooooooo!"

     I stop and turn quickly.  "What?  What's the matter?"

     "I just noticed."

     "Noticed what?"

     "Noticed you've got a nipling?  Right?"

     "What?  I...I don't understand you."

      His  giggle is rather high-pitched.  I swear it's the sound of  a
young  male.   The voice I adore...the sound I thrill to...a  resonance
that  kicks my heart rate up to high.  "Sorry.  That's what my  friends
and I cccall it.  A nnnipple ring...you've got a nipple ring.  Right?"

      I'm very surprised he's able to identify it.  "Uh...yes.  Yes,  I
do."

      "I  thought I saw it sparkling through your tee.  It looks  soooo
cccooool!"

     "Thanks."

     "Can I see it?"

     "Uh...yeah...sure."  I walk up to him and he bends forward to look.

     "Oh, wow!" He looks at it closer.  "But It's not a ring, is it?"

     "No, it's a gold bar."

      "Oh, yeah!  That's so neat!"  He's peering at it closely  through
the thin, worn, torn tee.  "Can I see it...I mean, real close?"

     "Um...I suppose."  I lift the tee so he can see it clearly.

     "That's really so incredibly cool.  I love it!"

     "Thanks."

     "When'd you get it?"

     "I've had it for a long time."

     "Yeah!  A couple of my friends have one."

     "Kids in high school are wearing nipple rings?"

     "Oh yeah!  Lots of guys do."

      So,  what  was  once considered as being "totally  gay"  has  now
entered the main stream.  Christ! High school kids! My God!  What next?

     "Lots of them also have tattoos.  You got any?"

     "No.  I've never been big into permanently disfiguring my body."

      Then I immediately realize the implications of what I said...said
to a boy who's body is permanently disfigured.  "I'm so sorry, Clay.  I
didn't mean it to...to come out as it sounded.  Really...I... "

     "Hey, that's okay.  No offense taken, man.  I had no choice in the
wwway my body's disfigured...while these guys have every choice in  the
wwworld.  I understand.  No problem."  He laughs again.  "Yeah,  that's
what  most of `em sssay...that they aren't gonna scar up their  bodies.
And  then one day they ssshow up with these real strange tattoos.  Some
are  so  totally weird...and real big...and in such real strange places
too."   He  laughs heartily.  I can only thrill at this boy's marvelous
attitude.

     "Which guys are you talking about, Clay?"

     "Guys in our Thursday afternoon group."

     "At school?"

      "No.  Just some schoolmates.  We get together at one of the guy's
home - every Thursday after school.  "

     "Oh?"

      "Yeah.   Kyle's  folks are both doctors...you  know  MD  type  of
doctors...and they have  late hours every Thursday.  So we get together
at their place...and have tons of fun...about eight of us."

     "Sounds good."

      "It  is!   It's real cool."  He's still examining the  gold  bar.
"Can I touch it?"

     "Sure.  If you want to."

      He  touches  it,  first...first using his hook  -  the  beautiful
gripper hook.  He gently pushes it with...with the tip.  I...I  try  to
remain  non-nonchalant.  But I  know...I  know that's an impossibility,
and  I im-im-immediately become aroused - aroused faster than I have...
in  months...or maybe years.  This kid's doing a-a-amazing th-th-things
to  me.  It feels soothing...and incredibly erotic.  I start to hurt...
hurt badly in my shorts.

     He  moves the hook away and raises his left hand.  He very lightly
... oh so incredibly l-l-lightly...fingers the bar, and very slightly ro-
ro-rotates it.  I'm quickly losing the battle.

      I open my eyes a slit and look down at what he's doing.  His hand
is  large...and his fingers and quite long...and  thin...and  extremely
sexy.  I find everything about this boy to be amazingly sexy.  Quite  a
problem...quite...a problem...for me.

     Clay  continues  manipulating the bar, twisting it,  twisting  it,
rotating it slightly.  Twist...twist...twist.

     Then  he  begins to move one finger delicately around the aureole.
Round...and round...and round...the aureole...of my erect...very aching
nipple.

     I  have  my  eyes  shut tight now, while this boy -  this  lovely,
beautiful, desirable boy - this paragon of teen, male beauty  -  slowly
and  deliberately makes astonishing and extremely exquisite love to me.
Though  he's touching only one very small area of my chest, I  feel  my
whole  body vibrate - vibrate almost...almost uncontrollably.  I am  in
the  throws  of  a soon-to-be full-blown release.  My incredibly  solid
cock  is...is snaking down my shorts and...and I can feel it resting...
hard and hot...on my th-thigh.

     The feelings coursing through...through me are astonishing.  I can
no  longer control the eventual consequences.  No more!  Not any  more!
I can take it no longer...no...longer....

     I  explode...erupt...accompanied  by  rather obvious,  jerky  body
movements...and some indelicate grunting.  I can feel the fluid running
down my leg and...and I'm getting  more than a little embarrassed...and
uncomfortable.

     When I manage to open my eyes, Clay is still looking at the nipple
bar...and still delicately touching it.

     "Clay?  Clay?  I need to get to the bathroom.  Clay?"

      "Uh.   Yeah.  Okay."  He backs off, gives me a great, wide smile,
and  slowly walks back to the television room.  I move slowly and quite
deliberately into my bedroom, and head for the bathroom.

      I need a quick shower...to wash away the evidence of my enormous,
embarrassing, yet  thoroughly satisfying orgasm - and to  help restore
my equilibrium.

      Under  the  pulsating, splashing hot water, I think...think  more
clearly...more clearly  than at any time since...since this boy  walked
into my house almost a week ago.

     How can this be?

      How can a sixteen-year-old boy...a young, seemingly immature teen
...beautiful...sexy...apparently  new to...any  form of sex...let  alone
male/male sex...and its consequences...find a fifty-two year old man...
who  has  seen  more action than  he cares to remember...find  him  the
slightest bit interesting?  He does find me interesting, doesn't he?  I
hope  I'm  not...not reading more into this situation than is  there...
truly there.  I certainly hope I'm not...not imagining  the whole...the
whole...the whole scenario...whatever that is...or may be.

      He  seems so curious.  So willing to take chances.  So  open  and
receptive.

      And...and  how  can  a  fifty-two year old  man  be  so  strongly
attracted...so sexually attracted to a sixteen year old boy...who is so
severely  handicapped...so great looking....  So sexy...with  the  most
mouth-watering body I can ever remember seeing?

     Yet, I still have such burning questions about his actions.

     Does he know what he's done?
     What he's accomplished?
     Does he realize?
     Does he have any idea what happened to me?

     How incredibly he's made me feel?
     Does he know how exquisite his love making techniques are?
     Does he know how devoted I am to his gentle, caring ways?
     Does he even realize that he actually made love to me?

     And how much I loved it?
     And how much I desire him?
     How much I crave his body?
     And how much I love him?

     OH CHRIST!

     Why question everything?

     Why pick, pick, pick  apart all that is good?  And wonderful?  And
clear?

      Why  try to find rational, logical answers to the irrational  and
the illogical?

     How can I continue asking these questions pertaining to the etherial -
to the eternal non-answerable - to love...and passion...and desire?

     Why are there always more question?

     Why?

     How I wish to make  unending love to him...to have his body...that
thin,  smooth exquisite body...next to mine...and have us make  love...
the most erotically...intense...marvelous love imaginable.

	Is it at all possible?

	Will we ever be together as I so desperately want us to be?


                          The Endd of Part 3
                         (To Be Continued...)


Please Note:  If you have any comments to make about this or any other
   story of mine, please send them to me at  flbrothers@hotmail.com
        I appreciate all emails - ALL!                    Thanks.