Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2006 14:19:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Boy Called R.J. (1)

Author note:

   The first chapter of this tale, with the exception of the verbiage that
places the storyteller in the airplane descending into Richmond, Va. is
true, and will not contain any actual sex between the principals though it
is paramount to setting the stage for the fictional events to follow.
Ensuing chapters will be complete fiction, or, perhaps better stated,
wishful thinking. These parts will definitely be sexually embellished, but
complete fiction, as the telling will depict an evolving man/boy
relationship that eventually becomes sexual in nature. Being so advised,
and assuming your continued interest, enjoy, and, as always, reader
comments are very much appreciated, and enjoyed. Submit any comment you are
motivated to make at: storyguy22@yahoo.com


Chapter One


   The sudden deceleration of the jet engines wreaked an equally sudden
invasion of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I knew the reduction in
power signified the beginning of our decent into Richmond, and in mere
minutes I would actually be on the ground, a place I was suddenly not at
all sure I wanted to be, given the circumstances surrounding my being on
board this flight.

   My original feeling of foreboding had returned in the same instant that
the planes pilot had pulled back on the throttles, and I was now wondering
just how, and why, I had ever allowed myself to push those feelings to the
back of my mind, even temporarily. To ignore the myriad of alarm bells, and
mental flashing lights that had so very quickly gone off when I had first
allowed myself to even consider the idea of pursuing my strong attraction
to the boy was plain crazy, if not outright suicidal, socially speaking.
But, ignore them I had, at least up until this point, when the now
increasing rate of descent of the aircraft was rapidly bringing me ever
closer to the moment of truth, as it were. I exhaled deep, and long, as I
settled against the seat back, and closed my eyes, mentally replaying the
whole jaded experience for maybe the millionth time since it had begun some
seven weeks ago, back home in California.

   I was known among friends and co-workers as a pretty stable, stand-up
kind of guy. In my early forties, and divorced for the past five years, I
was considered to be a hard worker as a mid-level manager for a large
communication conglomerate, and had even been rated as a corporate "asset"
in recent evaluations.  I was far from wealthy, but completely comfortable,
owning, well, buying, my own home, a steadily growing 401k plan, and a
small private investment portfolio, along with a three year old car, and a
five year old pickup truck that I used to haul things for home projects,
and also to tow my twelve foot fishing boat that I all to rarely seemed to
find time to get to the water. I was fairly settled in my life, adjusted
again following the divorce trauma, and reasonably happy with my circle of
friends. I even got along famously with my next door neighbors, Margret and
Carl, a couple well into their seventies that were, to varying degrees,
afflicted with the typical declining health that accompanies advancing age,
or, as Carl was fond of defining it, the "golden years," followed with
several expletive's deleted.

   So, not to put too fine a point on it, there I was, American
Joe-six-pack, a Christian, and a political conservative, always law
abiding, polite, a former Boy Scout, and Little leaguer, who had helped his
fair share of little old ladies cross the mean streets of America. However,
before you consider nominating me for man of the year, a small confession,
if you will. Albeit deeply in the proverbial closet, I was, I am, a covert
boy lover of the third order, and that, dear readers, is the source of my
current angst.

    While it is true that I had heralded a strong sexual attraction to teen
boys for a good many years, I had always held it in check, satisfying my
forbidden urges by merely availing myself of their social, and acceptable
company, via coaching baseball teams, the odd volunteer program such as Big
Brothers, Boy Scouts, and even the odd church camp over the years. These
activities had long served me well in that I honestly enjoyed the
activities, and the delectable young lads that they brought into my
immediate proximity, and when I coupled the real experiences with the boys
to my private fantasy postscripts of those events, it was sufficient to
satisfy me in the most harmless of ways. I had slipped but once, allowing
myself that one brief dalliance with that one single boy some time ago now,
but that, as they say, is another story, for another time.

   I opened my eyes, my reverie suddenly broken by the sound, and
sensation, of the pilot adding power to the jets engines, as he
reconfigured into a slightly nose-up attitude. We had apparently been waved
off our landing pattern for some conflict on the ground, and I sighed with
relief for the minor reprieve of the go-around. Settling back in the seat
again, I closed my eyes, and recalled the series of events that had
culminated with my sitting in this airliner seat, starting at the very
beginning.

   It was a Monday, and after getting home from work around four in the
afternoon, I changed into some comfortable shorts, and a tee shirt, then,
retrieved my laundry from the dryer where I had left it drying that
morning. Among the laundry were some items that belonged in the small
travel trailer I owned, and kept stored in a fenced in section of my
neighbor Carl's side yard. Gathering the items, I walked over to Carl's,
and put them inside the trailer, relocked it, and returned, walking along
the side of Cal's garage toward the front. As I rounded the corner, turning
toward my place, I encountered a boy of maybe fourteen, standing in the
open garage space, smiling at me. I screeched to a stop, quickly assessing
the fact that he was stunningly cute, as he stepped in front of me, and
offered his slender hand, saying,

   "Hi...I'm RJ...Maggie is my Grandma...I'm visiting...!"

  Thinking his voice ranked right up there with his amazing grin, I gripped
his somewhat small hand in mine, and we shook, as I quickly assessed all
the detail I could fathom in the brief time available that wouldn't be
perceived as what I actually was doing, to wit, perving him, big time! So
very cute, in a impish, boyish way, a shock of long, bushy, dark hair rose
in all directions from his head, and eyes so dark brown as to nearly be
black. His complexion was clear, and tanned a golden shade, and the tan was
accented further still by even rows of small, snow-white teeth. I noted the
tiny dimples indenting his still grinning cheeks, and the minor outcropping
of acne on his cute little chin, then, the small tufts of dark underarm
hair that were exposed by the "I (heart) Tater-Tot's" tank top he wore over
dark, loose fitting shorts, and scruffy tennis shoes with white half
socks. Wow, said my reacting penis, then, wow, again! I gathered my wits,
finally, and released his hand, saying,

   "Well hello, RJ....my name is Rob, and I live next door..." I told him,
indicating the direction of my house. "And, welcome...I'm sure your Grandma
is loving having such a handsome lad spend time with her."

   He smiled sheepishly, then, launched directly into a verbal tirade of
rapid fire sentences, telling me, nearly all in one breath, how he knew I
lived next door, had in fact seen me over there several times, and that he
had seen me carry stuff to the trailer, which was why he had come outside
to say hello. I chuckled, amazed by his overt little speech, given that the
typical boy his age generally requires each response to any given remark be
literally dragged from him in a series of grunted "yes, no, and maybe's." I
responded by telling him that I, too, had caught brief glimpses of him over
the course of his visit, but that I had not seen him of late, and had
thought he had probably returned home already.

   As our lively conversation ensued, I learned that RJ was visiting from
his home in Virginia where he now lived with his Uncle and his family,
where he had gone following the untimely death of his father the previous
year. The boys divorced Mother, it seemed, was heavily involved with a
serious drug habit, and the local law enforcement, so living with her had
not been an option. As he described his current home life, he seemed very
well adjusted, and happy with the situation, albeit some minor angst over
the fact that the Uncle's family included two other children under the age
of ten, RJ's cousins, whom he termed as often being "pains in the butt."
That issue aside, he stated that he was quite happy with his new
surroundings, as he described a somewhat palatial sounding home, located at
the edge of Chesapeake Bay, replete with its own private boat dock, boat,
and kayaks to paddle about the bay. While I was sure there was some
lingering degree of the pain associated with the tragic, and sudden death
of his young father, the boy appeared fairly well adjusted, and happy, for
which I was glad.

   As we continued chatting, RJ doing the lion's share of the talking in
his delightfully exuberant manner, I hungrily savored the opportunity to
just simply stand next to him, and absorb his utter cuteness, and total
"boyishness," as he went through a myriad of cute gestures to emphasize
whatever point he was making. Among the varied gesticulations he repeated
several times was a sudden upward tug on the hem of his tank top, as he
brought the cloth to his face to swipe at the barely discernable shadow of
budding hair growth there. The maneuver fully exposed his satin smooth
chest, and tiny nipples, along with full exposure of his soft, smooth
tummy, and the tiny cave of his navel, and each time he did it, I
desperately wanted to just bend down, and lick that creamy smooth skin, a
thought that rapidly translated to the burgeoning penis trapped in my
shorts.

   As our conversation continued, Carl emerged from the door that connected
the house and garage, and joined RJ and me, greeting me as he walked into
the garage. He made some comment regarding the boy talking my ear off,
which I quickly brushed aside, assuring him that I was actually quite
raptured with the boy's gregariousness, and found it delightful that such a
bright young lad would have an interest in spending his time with someone
as old as myself. That remark brought a quick response from RJ, as he quite
possibly unknowingly offended his step-grand dad by uttering that I wasn't
old, that old was much more akin to Carl's age, than mine. Carl took the
remark in stride, and actually even agreed with the boy, and I was greatly
pleased to learn that I was not considered an "old fart" by the cute young
boy. All the more so, I considered, given the fact that over the past
couple of weeks his time had predominantly been spent exclusively in the
company of two seventy something Grandparents, and ailing ones, at that.

   As the three of us chatted, RJ settled himself onto the floor of the
garage, as Carl and I kind of leaned on the car. He crossed his slim,
hairless legs in front of him in a position commonly known as "Indian
style," and the hems of his loose fitting shorts rode high on his creamy
thighs, causing the material at his crotch to gather somewhat, and cling to
a very interesting, and attractive little bulge of boy treasures that hid
there. I tried not to stare, striving to follow what Carl was saying, and
managed it, barely, as I felt my penis swell in my shorts. God, the boy was
just so overtly sexual, and, had absolutely no idea that he was, and it was
that air of innocence that made it overtly sexual, at least to the boy
lover among us.

   I finally tore my hungry gaze from RJ's sexy pose, and kiddingly
admonished Carl for not yet having sent the boy over to use my large above
ground swimming pool, given that the weather had been unusually warm over
the course of his visit. Before Carl could reply to my chiding him, RJ
again chimed in, grinning widely, as he scolded his step Grandfather,
telling him in his chatter-box style that, see, I told you so, Rob wouldn't
mind me using his pool. Carl made some reply about not wanting the often
over zealous boy to be a pest in my back yard, or bother me, and I again
brushed it aside, telling RJ that he was more than welcome to the use of
the pool, whether I was at home, or not. To that he quickly replied that he
would "totally" love to use it right now, and, since I was at home, maybe I
could go swimming, too. Not needing anything by way of a second offer to be
in close proximity of a swim suit clad little cutie like this one, I
quickly accepted his proposal, and told him to get changed, and come on
over. I said my goodbyes to Carl, as the boy unfolded those colt-like legs,
and scampered into the house, as I seized the opportunity to check out his
too-perfect little bubble butt.

   Back at home, I donned swim trunks, and headed out back, just in time
for RJ's entrance through the side gate. He wore navy blue swim trunks,
long to the knee, and definitely too baggy for my tastes, with a white tee
shirt, a fresh towel hung over his shoulder. He greeted me with his
dazzling smile, and passed right by me, as he hopped up on the diving deck,
and extended one foot, testing the water temperature. As he had whisked
past me, my senses had reeled with the fresh, boyish scent of him, and I
shuddered, fighting a sudden urge to scoop his lithe, slender body up in my
arms, and inhale another whiff of that wondrous scent.

   RJ gripped the deck ladder in one slender hand, and bent from the waist,
as he leaned over to retrieve the thermometer that was suspended into the
pool on a string, and my balls lurched, as I focused on that pert little
ass that poked invitingly at the back of his trunks. He checked the
reading, then, dropped the device back onto the water, and straightened, as
he peeled the tee shirt over his head, and tossed it onto a lounge chair
nearby. I sucked in a deep breath, stunned at the sudden vision of near
naked boyhood that now stood before me. He was the poster boy for youthful
perfection, smooth, and totally hairless other than the twin small tufts of
dark hair in his underarms, a clear signal of his advancing puberty. His
taut nipples were small, and perfectly symmetrical, small ovals of tissue
darker than the surrounding tanned skin of his chest. There was some early
definition to his pec's, and the broadness of his shoulders tapered
perfectly in a descending "v" to his slim waist, and slightly flared
hips. His legs were well toned, showing muscle at the calves, and his feet
were small, almost dainty, on a boy who probably stood around 5' 7", and
maybe 115 pounds. I fixed my gaze at his crotch, easily imagining how
spectacular he would have looked had he stood there naked, his sculpted
young penis, and just descended scrotum on display to my hungry gaze, and I
shuddered, as the image formed clearly in my demented mind for just a few
seconds. He grinned at me, and giggled in the sweetest little sound I had
ever heard, then, executed a quick little twist, and plunged head long into
the pool. I shook off my reverie, and jumped in right after him.

   We spent a good hour horsing around in the pool, splashing water to hell
and breakfast, as we wrestled, and dunked. Just making contact with that
smooth, slippery skin had me half hard in my trunks, and I so wanted yank
his trunks to his knees, and set that firm boyhood free to be fondled, and
sucked, until he begged me to stop. In the short space of that hour, the
boy had me, hook, line, and sinker, with his stunning young body, and
cherubic looks, along with his amazing emotional maturity, and ever
pleasing, outgoing, personality. I knew at that moment, even if my lust
driven desires were never to be fulfilled, my life had been enriched
greatly from his merely being that brief part of it, and I frankly never
wanted it end.

   But, of course, end it did, as the dinner hour approached, and with it,
his need to return to the Grandparents. We said our goodbyes, highlighted
by his parting promise to "see you tomorrow after work," and I watched his
cute little butt jog next door. He paused at the entrance to Carl's house,
and glanced back at me, flashing one last stunning grin, and a small
flicker of his slender fingers, then, disappeared inside.

   After a long evening, and a bedtime filled with masturbatory frenzy as I
fantasized about RJ lying in his bed not more than seventy five feet away,
I finally drifted off to a fitful sleep. The following work day was equally
as long, and seemingly endless as had been the night, and when I finally
arrived back at home, I hurriedly changed into some shorts, and a tee, and
rushed out front, hoping that RJ would soon materialize to resume our
pleasing banter. I walked over to my fishing boat, and settled onto a small
step stool, as I began assembling some guide-on's that I had been intending
to install on the trailer. Not more than five minutes had passed, when my
heart slipped a beat, as I saw RJ pushing Carl's trash container down to
the end of the driveway to be collected the following morning. As our eyes
met across the expanse of yards, my heart skipped again in reaction to his
dazzling smile, and small wave, which I quickly returned. Having dealt with
the trash can, he quickly jogged in my direction, and as he approached, he
extended his clenched fist, which I bumped with my own, in the typical teen
gesture of greeting, and he plopped down on the grass opposite my position.

   He asked what I was doing, and I explained about the boat guide on
hardware I was installing, and he nodded his understanding, then,
immediately launched forth with his rapid-fire rendition of the boat the
family had back home, and several tales of his kayaking adventures on the
Chesapeake Bay. His animated renditions were, as they had been yesterday,
amazing, and truly entertaining, and I was once more struck by his poise,
and articulation. His clothing this day consisted of another logo tee
shirt, some hip-hop band, and camo style kaki pants that were,
surprisingly, rather snug fitting. As he stretched his legs in front of
him, sitting on my lawn, the well laundered material of the pants clung
tantalizingly to the very intriguing lumps of boyhood at his crotch, and I
shamelessly seized every opportunity to steal furtive glances, often
lingering much too long to avoid detection, but unable to stop myself from
savoring the delicious sight of what I knew was his proud little soldier,
and the lump of young balls below. Surprisingly, I was sure I had more than
once caught him doing some perving of his own, as my sitting position
created a sag in the wide legs of my shorts, baring a generous portion of
the backs of my thighs. The sly, but boyishly shy, little expressions he
gave me as I repeatedly tossed him small winks confirmed my suspicion that
he had at least some degree of interest in my own equipment, and I was
tempted to offer the old saw about "show me yours, and..." but, I resisted,
barely.

   My chore with the guide on's completed, I suggested another romp in the
pool, and RJ lit up so sweetly, it made me wish I had just forgotten the
damn guide on's in the first place. He rushed off to don his trunks, as did
I, and in no time, we were once again frolicking wetly in the pool. After a
long session of war, and lap races, we climbed out to rest, and, as RJ
stretched his lithe body across the length of a lounge chair, and folded
his slim arms behind his head, I half his behind the towel I was drying off
with, and openly perved his crotch, where his soaked trunks clung perfectly
to his pride and joy. So perfectly, in fact, that I now knew without doubt
the boy was neatly circumcised, a fact that only served to bolster his
attractiveness in my book. Given out recent horseplay, and the good deal of
body contact that went with it, I couldn't be certain the boy was
completely flaccid as I stared hungrily at his defined boyhood, but
whatever condition it might have been in, I guessed it to be a very
adequate, and certainly tempting, length, and girth. As before, I allowed
my gaze to linger longer than I should have, and he opened his eyes,
catching me looking, and a sudden flush washed over his smooth cheeks, and
upper chest, as I quickly looked away, cleanly busted. He giggled softly,
then, closed his eyes once more, as if offering me another opportunity to
scope his boyhood, and so, I did, big time.

   I could easily continue this tirade several more thousand words,
extolling for your pleasure the many, and varied, nuances of the next few
days that led up to RJ's departure for home, But, they were much the same
as I have already recounted, each equally as precious, and fulfilling, as
the other, and would tend to become repetitious in the telling, though from
my perspective, they were anything but. I simply treasured each, and every
second of my time with the boy. While it is sadly true that we never took
our bonding to any overt sexual level, that was certainly where I would
have loved to take it, were it not for the possible legal ramifications,
and my concern for doing anything to tilt the grounded emotional keel the
boy seemed to have managed following the traumatic death of his young
father. I very much wanted to experience him in that special way, and in
truth, I'm not totally certain that RJ didn't harbor at least some interest
in the same desire, but, to borrow a line from the former President Bush,
the father, it wouldn't be prudent, not prudent at all. .....Sigh!.....

   The sad day arrived that was to be the eve of RJ's departure, and we
mutually decided to skip the vigorous pool time, electing instead to just
lounge at the patio table out back, quietly talking about our newly kindled
friendship, his upcoming first year of high school, which surprisingly
intimidated him slightly, and a variety of idle chit chat that mostly
served to prolong the moment of his leaving. He asked me if we could
exchange emails, and, while I seriously cautioned myself that maintaining
an ongoing relationship with a boy two weeks short of his fourteenth
birthday was doubtless an unwise thing for a non-related adult man to do, I
weakly caved to his pleading, dark eyed expression, and relented, providing
that he agreed to exercise serious Juris Prudence over the communications,
which he did, as I explained how it might prove difficult for his Uncle to
understand his desire to stay in touch with someone of my genre, regardless
of the slight connection to his Grandma.

   With that hurdle breached, the moment for good bye sadly arrived, and I
all but broke down completely, as RJ wrapped his slender arms tightly
around me, hugging his lithe body firmly against mine, and once more the
boyish scents of him coursed over me, bringing me nearly to tears. The
final straw that very nearly tipped me off the edge of control came when he
turned his soft, lush lips against the side of my neck, and whispered,
"Your so cool..." and then, he was gone, much as he had arrived, suddenly,
and the empty feeling I was left with was equally as devastating as had
been the joy that had accompanied his arrival.

(To Be Continued)
Storyguy22@yahoo.com