Date: Sat, 13 Jun 2015 12:47:52 +0100
From: tpickles <tpickles2@gmail.com>
Subject: Boy - Chapter 3

This is a gay, erotic fantasy novel focusing around a relationship between
a gay adult man and a gay male youth. It's written for my own entertainment
and it's purely fictional. I'm not endorsing or encouraging any of the
activities that take place in this story. As the reader, please be
responsible for your own thoughts, actions and activities.  Please be
patient: this is an evolving story. Not everything happens immediately, nor
quite in the way you might expect ... but it will get there in time ... with
some interesting diversions along the way. If descriptions of male-male sex
or gay adult/youth relationships offend you, please leave now.

Enjoy the story. I love to hear your feedback, and suggestions for future
storylines. You can contact me by email at tpickles2@gmail.com. If you want
to see this kind of publishing continued, please support Nifty financially
with a donation to http://donate.nifty.org/.


...... from Chapter 2 ...

... I stood up and dried his back, from the shoulder blades down, over his
narrow waist, across his buttocks and down the back of his thighs again.
His feet were standing slightly astride. I got down on my knees again
behind him and used the towel to wipe the remaining moisture from his ass
cheeks. Very gently, I pulled his ass cheeks apart with the towel and dried
his crack. Finally, and before releasing his cheeks, I couldn't resist
blowing a little soft jet of breath towards his hole.

I wrapped the damp towel around him.

"I think I better get your shorts for you", I said, stepping out of the
shower, "and find something dry for myself too".

He reached his arm out to stop me, briefly. I looked at him. He looked
straight back at me.

"...Thank you ... Mr Tom ... for ..." but he didn't know how to finish.  I
smiled in reply, and went to fetch his shorts.


CHAPTER 3

After Zee had left, life in the apartment returned to `normal'. We didn't
talk about what had happened, but neither did it seem to be an awkward
obstacle. If anything, we were easier in each other's company. It was as
though some threshold had been crossed, and we were comfortable together in
the space.

Boy settled down into his new role as a `maid'. He was conscientious and
willing to learn. I found myself making surprisingly few adaptations to my
way of living with someone else sharing the space. He kept to himself. If
he didn't understand something, he asked. His most common questions were
about English words and phrases, or how to say something in English.

One evening, I showed him how to cook spaghetti, and together we made a
Bolognese sauce with minced beef, onion, leeks, tomatoes, and the
inevitable chilli. He likes all his food to have some spice. I'm used to
it, living here, and am happy to go along with his simple pleasures. We
shared the meal and then he cleared up, cleaning all the dishes and the
stove. He watched a music show on the TV for an hour, and then retired to
his bedroom.

A little later, I too went to bed. Outside, it had started to rain very
heavily. It was dark outside. People had left the city and gone home to try
and stay dry. This was one of those tropical downpours that could go on for
hours, or stop within a minute. It was comforting to be warm and dry
underneath the sheet, protected from the elements by plate glass and a
curtain. Cocooned in my comfort, I drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, I was woken suddenly by an explosion-like noise. I woke
disorientated. I could hear the rain pummelling down on the balcony
outside. There was a wind pushing waves of water onto the glass. I realised
that the explosion must have been a peel of thunder. As if in confirmation,
a jagged flash of light seared across the window. Lightning. And almost
immediately, another great clap of thunder filled the sky. This tropical
storm was almost overhead. I lay awake, expecting the next flashgun of
lightning, waiting for the next great peel. It was awesome: both thrilling
and dangerous to experience this power of natural forces. The sky lit up
again. I wondered what had been struck where the bolt of lightning struck
the ground. The thunder exploded almost immediately: it must have been
almost overhead. There's nothing I could do about it, except enjoy this
free sound-and-light show from the comfort of my warm bedroom.

There was a soft knock at my closed bedroom door. I almost didn't hear it
amidst all the other noise.

"Mr Tom, are you awake?" said a quiet voice.

"What is it, Boy? Are you ill or something? You can open the door."

The door opened a few inches, and Boy stood outside.

"Sorry, sorry Mr Tom. The noise woke me up. I don't like it."

"There's nothing to worry about. Nothing bad is going to happen. It's just
a big storm crashing around in the sky above us. You've seen storms like
this before," I replied.

"I don't like it," he repeated. "I'm scared."

Then, "Can I sleep on your floor until it goes away?"

I looked at him, wondering if he was making this up.

"I'm afraid, on my own, Mr Tom" he added – and his voice has certainly lost
his usual sense of quiet decorum.

"Come on in then. There's really no need to be scared."

The door opened a little and he almost slid through the gap into the room.
His eyes were downcast so as not to look at me. There was a timidness about
this boy that I'd not seen before. He was standing there in a pair of
tracksuit bottoms, wondering what he should do next.

"I can just sleep on the floor," he said, "and if you're in the same room,
I won't feel so bad."

"But the floor is so hard." I wondered whether to get up and fetch him
something to lie on.

"I can just sleep down here. I'm used to the floor at home," and he got
down to sit on the floor.

This felt rather awkward. I was lying in a big comfortable bed, and he was
like a lapdog at the foot of it.

"Get up from down there, Boy. You'll be much more comfortable, and have
more chance of getting some sleep, if you lie on the bed. There's plenty of
room for two of us, really." I moved across to one side, away from the
door, giving him plenty of space.

He stood up again, still not looking at me. He sat on the side of the bed.
Then he lifted his legs onto the edge, and lowered his head to the pillow,
right on the far side of the bed from me. "Thank you", he whispered.

"Try and go back to sleep now. You'll be perfectly safe here."

There was silence in the room. Outside, the rain was drumming down as
heavily as before. There was no thunder and lightning for a time. Perhaps
the storm was moving away. And just as I had this thought, there was
another almighty crash reverberating through the air and into the room. I
could feel Boy's body physically jump in the bed. The mattress shook. He
really was scared.

"Come here," I said, almost instinctively.

He moved a few inches across the bed towards me, still facing away. I
reached one arm out towards him. "Come a little bit closer, Boy".

He made another small move with his body. My fingers could touch him. I
placed my hand on his arm out-flung beside him to offer him some
reassurance.

"You really are quite safe here. The lightning can't get to you in here. In
the morning, it will all have gone away."

I hoped he would go to sleep. For a time he was immobile and quiet as the
storm continued outside the windows. I lay awake wondering just what I had
let myself in for with this boy.

Several minutes passed. Then Boy rolled over onto his stomach and put his
face in the pillow. With his free arm nearest me, he held onto the hand
that had been reassuring him. His grip was strong. He wasn't going to sleep
with that much tension in his body.

I let him grip me for a time, wishing him to relax a little. It was not
uncomfortable, but we couldn't spend the next few hours lying awake like
this. He'd not moved, just gripped my arm. If anyone was going to move, it
would have to be me.

I freed my arm, and rolled towards him onto my side. Now I could place my
hand more comfortably onto his back in what I hoped was a reassuring
gesture. His skin was soft and smooth beneath my hand. There was a warmth
in it that I could feel flowing into me. I was aware of his breathing,
sounding a little more regular now. This gesture of comfort seemed to be
reassuring him.

Then with a shock of surprise, I realised that I'd started to become
aroused by this contact with his skin. It was like his warmth was
transferring to me. I always slept naked. I didn't want to move position
because it might disturb him, and alert him to what was happening within
me. If I got up and went to the bathroom, he was going to see me as I
walked across the room. A little panic set in. My cock was filling out and
riding up my thigh. I felt incredibly exposed – like I'd been caught doing
something wrong. My mind was in a whirl. This boy was sleeping semi-clothed
in my bed face down and frightened. My hand was over his back. I was naked,
and with a hard-on poking out in front of me towards him. I lay perfectly
still and frozen.

Boy moved. He turned again, from his front and onto his side, with his back
now towards me. We were inches apart in the bed. He didn't speak. He kept
hold of my arm and brought it round across him and over his bare chest in a
cuddle. My hand covered his smooth chest.

Then he made a move to shuffle his bottom backwards towards me. He couldn't
get too far. My hard cock was jutting out at him. His tracksuit-covered ass
met my enlarged cockhead. Oh fuck! If I cum now, this was going to be very
hard to explain. With my other hand, I quickly grabbed my rigid penis and
pulled it towards my belly. His butt continued moving in towards me. Now we
were close together like two spoons. My knees were behind his. My naked
thighs were beneath his. My arm was holding him around his chest. And my
cock was pressed up against that cleavage in his tracksuit. He must be able
to feel me there. Even the little pre-cum from my wet cockhead must be
wetting his tracksuit.

He lay still and breathed evenly.

A whole mixture of feelings was flowing through me. Was this a dream? Or a
wet-dream? I was very excited by the close contact, and by my ability to
seemingly comfort this boy. At the same time, I was terrified that he'd
wake up, be horrified at what he discovered, and would run screaming from
the apartment. And I was very, very hot. I really wanted to cum now. I
could feel it right down my cock and in my balls. This boy who was scared
of the storm was making me incredibly horny. There's nothing I could do
about it either.

Boy moved a little. His uppermost arm was moving. Some part of him at least
was awake. This arm moved down and slightly backwards. He rested it on the
skin of my thigh. It was another electric current. There was another little
movement – maybe a squeeze, or a stroke – and then he was still.

I lay there unable to move. I was frozen in this spooned position, all my
senses on full alert. I was wide awake and energised.

Boy remained immobile too. But his body felt relaxed and soft. I felt the
rise and fall of his chest cavity. I listened to his breathing. It became
rhythmical and started to slow. After a few minutes, I realised he's fallen
asleep.

I held him, listening to the rain outside. The violence of the storm
appeared to have passed over. I was not going to move. I wanted to savour
the pleasure of this nocturnal moment. My erection subsided a little, but
didn't go away completely. Perhaps I would sleep eventually.


.... to be continued in Chapter 4.