Date: Thu, 20 Jan 2011 16:08:02 -0800 (PST)
From: ecd1@snet.net
Subject: Bobby P. & Me, Chapter 2

The more I thought about it, the more I didn't want to go home. I found
spending time with a young man like Bobby quite invigorating, and he seemed
to personify what it meant to be teenager in the new millennium. Although
reluctant to admit it, I also enjoyed looking at the boy, almost to the
point where I understood Karen's improprieties, as having sex with the boy
must surely have been immensely gratifying.

 I now found myself more jealous of Karen, my imagination running wild with
envy as I envisioned her sucking Bobby's big cock outside in his very own
driveway. Simply being in the boy's company left me shaky and nervous, the
attraction I felt for him so strong it left me questioning my own
sexuality. Seeing as I'd always been a glutton for punishment, I figured a
few more hours spent with the boy was just what the doctor ordered to leave
me sexually frustrated and yearning for something I knew I could never
have.

"Unless you're ready to go home, we can grab another six-pack and hang-out
for a while longer if you want," I offered while feeling my own heart
beating out of my chest. "Of course, if you'd rather go home, that's cool
too."

"You really still want to hang-out with me after all the stuff I just told
you about Karen and me?" Bobby asked in a befuddled manner, obviously
referring to spilling the beans on the two's dirty little secret.

"Of course I do," I acknowledged with a wide smile. "I can't lay full blame
on Karen for wanting to keep you in her life. I'm thinking any girl, not
only Karen, would fall all over themselves to get in your pants."

"You must a got a better look at me taking a leak than I thought you did,"
Bobby noted half-kiddingly, his countenance suggesting a measure of
sincerity, however.

The boy shifted about his seat, the dark shadows within the car hampering
my ability to see what exactly he was up to. Once he'd settled, I was able
to make out the wallet he'd fished-out from his back pocket. He reached
into the black-leather tri-fold and extracted what appeared to be hard
cash. Extending his perfectly-muscled arm while holding two crisp twenties
under my nose, he said with great enthusiasm, "Here."

"What's that for?" I asked, having no clue why Bobby was offering me
money. "If that's for more beer, a six-pack doesn't cost forty dollars!"

"We have to have somewhere to drink them, don't we?" he answered
matter-of-factly. "There could be a sobriety stop almost anywhere. I'd feel
responsible if you were to get in trouble for trying to make things right
between us."

 "So the forty dollars you're trying to give me is for...what?" I asked
while still clueless as to what he wanted me to do with the money.

"A short-stay motel room on the Turnpike," Bobby answered as if I were the
densest guy on the planet. "It's only $35.99 plus tax for four hours. Me
and a certain someone sometimes used the place when we were...ya
know...seeing each other."

"You want to hang out with me in a motel room and drink beer?" I asked
incredulously, hardly believing my unseen good fortune.

My heart again raced at the thought of spending four hours in a locked
motel room with a sexy, yet emotionally unstable boy of sixteen. I was a
bit shocked at his boldness, yet I soon realized his intensions were likely
as innocent as that of a child's, the boy obviously wanting nothing more
than for the two of us to bond a while longer. I doubt Bobby ever
entertained the impure thoughts that raced through my mind just now,
although I hoped something along that taboo subject had subconsciously
provoked his idea of the two of us sharing a motel room.

"Just so we have someplace safe to drink the beer," he countered
defensively. "We could watch TV, order out some food, and maybe talk some
more. I'll gladly pay and even let you have the bed. I'll take the desk
chair with the springs poking out of the seat," he added with a cute little
giggle.

While keeping one eye on the road, I reached over and snatched one of the
two twenties from the boy's extended hand. "I'll pay half," I said with a
grin while tousling the boy's hair as if he were my kid brother. I'd never
been more thankful knowing that he wasn't.

We stopped along the way for another six-pack, insisting it be my treat,
although Bobby had offered to pay. I thought I knew the place where we were
going, seeing as Karen had on more than one occasion begged me to go there
as well. Now more than ever I was glad I'd declined the invitation,
choosing instead a much more costly accommodation to impress my
newly-acquired girlfriend. Had I known she was using the shoddy motel to
engage Bobby in sex, I might have accepted her invitations out of pure
curiosity. I now had the dubious honor of renting a room in the very dump
that the two little miscreants had chosen as their former love nest.

I had Bobby watch from the car as I went to the office to secure the
room. My instructions were for the boy to establish which room I'd gone
into, and then come inside after waiting a full five minutes. Bobby, not
surprisingly, seemed to already know the drill and was prepared to
comply. Within ten minutes we were both inside the poorly kept room looking
at each other in a way that spelled awkward with a capital `A.'

Breaking the mounting tension, I said while sniffing about the place, "You
can almost make out the impressions of Karen's knees in the carpet."

"Very funny," replied Bobby with a wide grin, the boy seemingly content in
my attempts to make light of the uncomfortable feelings we both shared in
regard to Karen. "Actually, I smell cheap cologne mixed with body odor."

"That's just me," I countered in dead-pan, the somewhat witty reply leaving
the boy rolling on the bed in laughter. His laugh was quite contagious, and
I quickly joined in.

Bobby sat-up on the bed Indian-style while grinning like a cat with a
canary in his mouth. "Ya know, Rick, you're a really cool guy. I'm really
sorry I've been breaking your stones and back-stabbing you like a spoiled
kid; even though I knew deep down nothing you did was personal against
me. I would have done the exact same thing as you, and come to think of it,
I still might."

This observation on Bobby's part brought more hysterical laughter, both of
us comfortable in the knowledge, at least for the time being, that Karen
was to be scornfully relegated to the back-burner.

Bobby climbed off the lumpy old bed and plucked a beer from the bag on the
tattered old desk where I'd left them. He untwisted the cap and handed one
to me before taking one for himself. I thanked him before flicking on the
ancient Zenith television and searching about for the remote.

"The TV's too old to have a remote, Rick," the boy stated with a
chuckle. "If you want to watch a different channel, I have to climb up on
the roof and move the antenna."

"This channel will have to do then," I said with a hearty laugh, slowly
folding myself down to sit at the end of the creaky bed. "Besides, I'd
rather talk and get to know you better anyway. We'll use the TV as
background noise in the event we're being bugged or filmed."

"Do you mind if I take a quick shower first?" asked Bobby in an
apprehensive manner that seemed out of character for him. "I didn't get a
chance to get cleaned-up before you came and got me. Besides, the only way
to get your money's worth out of a dump like this is to use their hot water
and both the little soaps; and steal the towels, even though they're not
much bigger than a facecloth."

"Go for it," I answered casually, trying hard not to sound overly-excited
at the prospect of seeing more of the boy's enigmatic body. "If you need
any help with anything, I'll be right out here," I blurted out before
realizing I'd verbalized my thoughts into what amounted to little more than
a corny, sexual innuendo. I needed to be more discreet, not wanting to
scare Bobby away by having him think of me as a closet faggot, or God
forbid - sexually confused. I figured I could probably use the beer buzz as
an excuse for my flirtatious loose-lipped comments, yet that would seem
lame as hell – even to a sixteen-year-old. I decided instead to take the
low road and act as if I'd said nothing at all.

"You can sit on the toilet seat and talk to me while I'm in there," stated
the boy as easily as if he were inviting me over to watch a movie in his
living room. He moved toward the bathroom door, emitting hope and
plausibility in his wake while also supplying me my first real look at how
nicely his buttocks filled-out the Levi's.

"I'll just wait for you to come out," I replied weakly, all the while
wondering what possessed me to pass-up an opportunity with such potential
reward.

With that said, Bobby wrestled himself out of his polo shirt and teasingly
threw the garment in my direction, landing haphazardly across my left
shoulder. My eyes immediately locked onto his bare chest and abdomen, not
surprised to find his body perfectly sculpted and incredibly sensuous. His
skin was baby smooth and uncannily flawless, its hue an appealing
medium-amber reminiscent of the honey I'd put on my cereal as a child. I
could only imagine how darkly he tanned in the summer months.

 "Is it alright if I leave my clothes out here so they don't get all damp
and limp-looking from the steam?" Bobby asked quite innocently while
kicking off his shoes and loosening his belt. "I'm kind of anal about my
clothes."  "Be my guest," I replied, yet this time barely able to keep the
excitement out of my response. "I'll do my best to respect your privacy."

I took one last glance at the shirtless wonder before turning my sights to
the ancient television. It was obvious I didn't trust myself with this
young man, as I continually entertained thoughts of pleasing him in ways
I'd never before considered. The attraction was not purely physical, as
there'd been plenty of other young males I'd found extremely cute or
unusually handsome. No, Bobby was different. It was his gentle nature, his
contagious and spirited disposition combined with those good-looks that set
him apart from the all others. Strangely, I felt I could love him given the
chance, and the thought frightened me enough to fight the battle to remain
a man strictly for the ladies.

"It's okay to look, ya know. You already saw my junk when we pissed in the
lot, remember?"

Turning my head to eye him at the bathroom door, I countered, "I think
so. You were the guy standing next to the passenger-side door of my Honda
releasing a gallon of piss through a garden hose, right?"

Bobby giggled that boyish giggle of his, resounding in my ears like
Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. I felt I'd made great progress in lifting the
boy's spirits, saying and doing all the right things to bring him out of
his love-induced funk concerning Karen. I only hoped it was enough to keep
him from the throes of adolescent depression once we'd parted ways for the
evening.

"You're funny," Bobby said while laughing uncontrollably. "It's easy to see
why Karen likes to sleep with you."

He proceeded to open his rather tight jeans and then wiggle out of them
like a snake shedding its winter skin. I tried in vain to keep my eyes on
the television during this unforeseen development, yet I failed once again
and decided to just look rather than appear perversely sneaky or possibly
ungrateful for the jaw-dropping exhibition Bobby so kindly afforded me.  I
found the bulge in his boxers to be outrageously pronounced, almost as if
there was a party going on in there that I'd yet to be invited to. Bobby's
weighty genitals demanded that the waistband sit appreciatively low along
his sensuous lower belly, leaving exposed a fair amount of thick, shiny
pubic hair above the snug elastic.

"At the risk of sounding envious, it's easy to see why Karen knocks on your
bedroom window at night," I countered appreciatively. "You certainly
fill-out a pair of boxers, kiddo."

Bobby simply smiled before turning his back and easing down his well-worn
undershorts. The frustratingly modest gesture did allow me an uncensored
view of his cute, perfectly-shaped buns, however. Traces of dark, curly
hairs sprouted sporadically from between his smooth butt cheeks, its rather
shocking existence lending a sense of maturity to his otherwise boyish
backside. His calves and shins supported an abundance of sexy hair, while
the backs of his shapely thighs revealed a light-catching peach-fuzz that
seemed more in accordance to a boy in his teen years.

Without turning back to offer me his front-side, the boy walked into the
bathroom, yet curiously allowed the door to remain partially open. Within
seconds I heard the shower-head come to life, allowing my imagination to
form images of a naked Bobby washing his sleek, supple body. I again cursed
myself for declining the boy's generous offer to join him in the bathroom,
if only to chat through the curtain. One thing may have led to another
however, and I quite possibly could have been soaping his youthful torso
rather than fantasizing over it.

While continuing to ponder what might have been, I grew increasingly
impatient to have the boy reappear from the tiny bathroom. To my good
fortune, I soon heard the unmistakable squeaking of faucets being
turned-off and the ancient rumbling of pipes within the plaster walls, thus
signaling an end to my waiting. All at once my breathing became labored and
my mouth turned dry and chalky. I went for another beer just as Bobby
stepped through the bathroom door appearing squeaky-clean while smiling
broadly. I thought he might ask me to hand him his clothing, yet he instead
stepped out into the room I quietly occupied.

"Another beer?" I asked in a shaky voice I barely recognized as my own. I
took a quick, sideways glance, finding the boy dripping wet while holding
an undersized, cheesy-looking towel around his trim, sexy waist. His bare
hip and equally bare thigh were clearly evident within the towel's vertical
opening along the leg, while dark, sexy hair clung to his wet shins and
calves.

"I'm good for now," Bobby replied with a shake of his head. "I'm kind of
buzzed as it is. You go ahead, though," he added amiably.

"I don't mind if I do," I chuckled while popping the cap from the
bottleneck and allowing it to roll away beneath the bed. I likened my
attempts at keeping my eyes off Bobby to passing-up mom's lasagna after
thirty-six hours without food.

I sat back on the edge of the mattress trying my best to focus on a reality
show where being a has-been actor and currently dependant on prescription
drugs makes you a reborn celebrity. They don't call a TV the `idiot box'
for nothing.

"By trying not to look at me you're making it obvious that you want to,"
Bobby surmised, the boy astutely aware at my uneasiness.  "I'm not shy
about my body, if that's what you're worried about. Actually, you'd be
hurting my feelings if you didn't want to at least give me the once over."

"I'm not uncomfortable around naked guys," I lied while turning to face the
dripping-wet teenager, "It's just that you're not exactly a typical guy."

Bobby uttered a shy `thanks' while removing the towel from around his slim
waist and using it to vigorously dry his medium-length, chestnut-brown
hair. My eyes jumped immediately to his middle, as the drying motion of
Bobby's arms and shoulders were causing his long, supple penis to sway back
and forth across his shapely thighs like a pendulum on Quaaludes. A shock
of black pubic hair surrounded the boy's damp, bountiful genitals, leaving
me weak in the knees an order of French fries short of a heart-attack.

"A little baby powder would be nice about now," the boy spoke in a voice a
bit muffled from the towel moving across his face at a high rate of
speed. He then lowered the towel to his chest, taking great care to dry
under his arms and across the back of his shoulders. "I use powder instead
of deodorant. It works great under the nut-sack, too!"

"I can run over to Seven-Eleven and get you some if you'd like," I offered
half-heartedly, all the while thinking that if he sent me out of the room
just now I'd threaten to hang myself from the ceiling.

"That's okay, Rick," replied Bobby with yet another heart-stopping
smile. "It's just I have to be completely dry before I put my clothes on or
I break-out in those little red dots. Not a very attractive look if you've
ever seen anyone who's had them."

"Can't say I have, but seeing as you've got skin like a baby, I'm not
surprised it takes extra care to keep it that way," I commented rather
dumbly. "Although I think you'd still be hot - even with little red dots
all over you."

Bobby lowered his eyes as well as the towel down below his genitals,
carefully lifting his scrotum to dry the densely-haired area behind his
sagging testicles. "Actually, it makes me look like a leper and makes me
wanna hide in a closet till it goes away."

I stared at the boy as if I were taking an eye exam, finding myself
powerless to lift my sights from his lean, adolescently-toned body. His
cock continued to flop around like a fish in an empty pail, the boy
seemingly unaware of the images it provided me.

Whether consciously or otherwise, Bobby had saved the best for last,
straightening up to his full 5'9" before methodically drying his lengthy
dick and low-hanging balls. I felt the boy's eyes on me as I watched, yet
my neck muscles refused their orders to turn my head back toward the TV. I
think I may have drooled down the front of my shirt, although I wasn't
about to peel my eyes from him to find out. I figured in time it would dry
anyway.

Tossing the towel through the doorway into the bathroom, Bobby said,
"Thanks, by the way, for being there for me when I kind of lost my
composure back at the lot. I'm not normally a cry-baby, but sometimes I let
my emotions get the best of me."

"I should be thanking you for allowing me to see you like this," I answered
truthfully, yet unaware of the double meaning it conveyed.

Bobby looked confused, yet continued to stand outside the bathroom's
doorway as naked as the day he was born. "Do you mean seeing me cry or
seeing me now with no clothes on?" he asked while reaching for his
underwear.

 "If you're saying you like having me naked, I can stay like this if you
want. My Gram's always yelling at me to put something on because I hate
wearing clothes around the house. And that goes double for motel rooms!"

"I wouldn't want you to be cold," I answered weakly, and in doing so
avoided the question altogether. Bobby seemed to take my answer in a way I
hadn't intended it, while I silently cursed myself for not being more
encouraging in his offer. I would've given my left arm to have the boy
remain naked throughout our stay at this shoddy motel, yet for reasons I
can't explain, I balked when the opportunity presented itself.

Bobby eyed me with suspicion, now presumably unsure of my intentions, or
lack thereof. I believe the boy drew some conclusions by the way I ogled
his naked form, yet he now figured he was mistaken and appeared embarrassed
by what he'd interpreted as rejection.

 Lifting each foot in succession from the stained carpet, the boy pulled
his boxers up and over his ankles and calves, then continued past his knees
before stopping at mid-thigh to check that I was watching – which I
was. He turned himself to afford me one last treat, a full-frontal view of
his swaying genitals, although he remained a good twelve to fifteen feet
from my seated position on the edge of the mattress. My eyes quickly fixed
on the boy's resilient penis, mesmerized in the way it drooped down over
his imposing testicles and pointed to the carpet, his great length
extending beyond what I considered fathomable. Its trajectory was
reminiscent of an elephant's trunk, yet unlike an elephant, Bobby's young
appendage appeared smooth, resilient, and immensely inviting.

 When I again failed to respond to the boy's alluring display of
exhibitionism, he brought the boxers up over his middle and loudly snapped
the elastic waistband against his smooth, slender hips. He arranged the
boxers along his waist just so, taking great care in keeping his eyes on
what he was doing rather than having to meet my reluctant gaze.

I'd foolishly allowed the window of opportunity to close without so much as
a peep, realizing I'd been intimidated by the boy's physical attributes
much more than I cared to admit. As a consolation, there was still an ocean
of exposed flesh to keep me frustratingly aroused, yet the boy now reached
for his jeans, about to sheathe the sexiest pair of legs I'd ever laid eyes
on.

"Don't put those on!" I shouted to the boy as if doing so would cause him
great bodily harm. "Who gets a massage wearing pants?" I asked boldly,
although my heart was nearly beating out of my chest over hearing my own
words.

"Who said anything about a massage?" asked the boy, looking a bit befuddled
by my rather sudden change of heart.

"I just thought it might feel nice for us both," I answered in a way that
tipped my hand regarding my interest in Bobby. As a result, I thought it
best to come clean and vocalize my true feelings and alleviate the sexual
tension between us. For all his honesty, I owed him that much.

"I figured I'd begin at your shoulders, which would not have been possible
if you hadn't put that Anaconda of yours back in its cage," I admitted
coyly, yet the meaning remained a cryptic riddle to Bobby's ears.

"What's that mean?" the boy asked with a comically priceless look of
confusion on his boyishly-handsome face.

"It means I wanted you to put your boxers on so I could give you a real
massage, otherwise I would have been too distracted to enjoy all the other
great parts of your body."

The boy quickly folded his jeans into three sections and dropped them back
onto the desk chair that held his shirt. He remained standing just outside
the bathroom door, continually fidgeting at the front of his boxers in what
I guessed were attempts to position his penis comfortably within the
garment.  "That would've been okay by me, but I thought you weren't..."

"Come closer, handsome," I said, interrupting the boy in mid-sentence while
attempting to inject the utmost degree of sexual interest in my otherwise
monotone delivery. I felt Bobby deserved more than simply playing the part
of a Porterhouse steak for this hungry man. Although my affection toward
him was quite genuine; I can't honestly say my feelings would have been the
same if he were a pimply teenager or twenty pounds overweight. As it was,
his boyish smile alone was enough to incite that hollow-hearted feeling I
associated with relentless desire.

Bobby slowly closed the distance between us while I not-so-casually watched
the weighty mass within his boxers shift freely about its loose
confines. This was an amazing sight to witness, although describing the
impact it carried would surely trivialize the effect it had over me. I was
beyond delirious with excitement and anticipation as to where this was
leading.

"I've never been with another guy before," I somehow felt the need to
acknowledge. I looked up into his large, dark eyes, as the boy now stood
directly before me, seemingly anticipating some type of physical contact on
my part.

"That's good, because you're not with another guy, you're with me," he
quipped with a knowing grin and a sly little giggle.

"Very funny, but you know what I mean," I countered appreciatively.  Bobby,
in his surprising maturity, seemed to understand my reluctance to act on my
emotions, as perhaps he'd had a prior experience or two with curiously
interested men under similar circumstances. It seemed obvious Bobby was no
stranger to a man's advances, yet I'd never heard any whispers of his
conquests involving males.He shuffled his feet to maneuver his bare legs
between my open knees; the firm mounds of his young chest now just inches
from my exploring eyes.

 "You wanted me to come closer, didn't you?" Bobby asked teasingly, all the
while looking down over the top of my head as I continued inspecting his
naked form.

"You're amazing," was all I could muster, and in a barely audible whisper
at that.

"I was starting to get the feeling that you didn't want to play with me,"
the boy whispered seductively, maneuvering his body this way and that to
have the scant lighting play off the subtle peaks and valleys of his smooth
torso.

"I doubt there's anyone with a heartbeat that wouldn't want to play with
you," I replied while dropping my sights down along Bobby's sexy midriff,
wondering if I'd ever encountered a female with a navel as sensuously
appealing as his undoubtedly was. "It's more that your body, and one part
in particular, is quite intimidating at first."

"That's why you wanted me to put my boxers on, right?" asked the boy,
suddenly understanding the adverse effect his body bestowed on mere mortals
like myself.

"I suppose so," I said candidly. But the boxers don't exactly contain
you. If anything, they accentuate and magnify just how large you are."

"I figured eventually they'd be dropping to the floor anyway, so why bother
putting them on?" Bobby said matter-of-factly, now seemingly aware of his
body's mystical powers over those who have witnessed him naked. "I only put
`em on because you seemed really uncomfortable."

Now convinced that Bobby was offering himself to me, I awkwardly confronted
my fears and insecurities, slowly lifting a hand and setting it lightly
over the bulging mass at the crotch of the boy's boxers. Although
pleasingly firm to the touch, his penis remained surprisingly flaccid,
while I, on the other hand, had grown hard as a day-old bagel.

Even through the boxers, simply touching Bobby's genitals sent shivers up
my spine, while at the same time leaving my face flushed and fevered with
desire. My fingertips continued southward along the tubular, snaking
length, eventually happening on the mushroom-shaped form of his bulbous
cock-head. Using only my index finger, I traced the underside of the head's
puffy ridge, amazed by its impressive, rounded circumference.

"Un-fucking-real," I muttered to myself, realizing at once I'd verbalized
my thoughts yet again.

"It's pretty big for a sixteen-year-old, right?" Bobby asked with total
sincerity, his voice somehow regressing to the point of sounding naïve and
childlike. Another series of sweet-sounding giggles escaped from his pretty
mouth, leaving me to wonder whether Bobby truly was playing me like a
Steinway Grand.

"You'd be pretty big even if you were a sixteen-year-old horse," I answered
wryly, my fingers now exploring the boy's weighty scrotum through the
boxers' thin material, finding the twin eggs in perfect proportion to his
outsized penis.

"Did you ever think when you picked me up tonight that you'd have your hand
between my legs?" he asked in a strange, child-like whisper, thrusting his
narrow hips outward to further accentuate the robust mass protruding from
within the underwear.

"There are a lot of things I still wish to happen tonight that I never
would have thought possible only an hour or two ago," I acknowledged
truthfully, bending the words to leave open a window of opportunity for
more intimate acts to follow.

Bobby began running his fingers through my hair and lightly tickling the
rims of my ears. "What else is it you want to happen?" he asked, cleverly
deciphering my cryptic response.

"How about we back up a bit and start with that massage?" I said with great
reluctance. "It would be a sin not to experience every square inch of your
beautiful skin."

I allowed my hand to drop away from Bobby's crotch, using my index finger
to point the boy toward the inviting mattress behind me. Bobby leaped over
my left shoulder, his toes whispering past me at the neck. He sprawled out
along the clean, well-worn bed-spread, his big brown eyes communicating his
willingness to share all that he'd been blessed with. I stood and savored
the contrasting image of his dark skin atop the off-white bedspread,
thinking I'd never before witnessed anything quite so beautiful and
seductive.

"I think I could spend the rest of my days just looking at you," I
whispered breathlessly, "like the way people study a piece of art in a
museum."

Between giggles, Bobby voiced, "I've never been with someone who likes to
talk as much as you do when messin' around. Just get in here with me."
"Enjoy the conversation while it lasts, my boy, because my mom taught me
never to talk with my mouth full."

Bobby giggled some more.


End of Chapter 2