Date: Fri, 07 Dec 2012 15:29:16 -0600
From: toruk_macto@hushmail.com
Subject: Christoph

DISCLAIMER: All the usual disclaimers apply. If your local laws prohibit
you from reading this then please leave now. This is a work of pure
fiction.  Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidence.
This story involves sex between a man and teenaged boy.  If you are against
this or upset by something of this nature and are offended by it, then do
not read it and please leave.  This is just a story.

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal
reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post it at
your own site, please contact me for permission.

Your comments and suggestions are encouraged and welcomed.


Christoph
Part 1
By Zatarra


	I'm retired military.  Not rich.  Didn't win the lottery, although
I am anxiously waiting my turn.  I am well off however, not having been
married and always living in government quarters and not having to waste my
money on frivolous crap that women want these days.  I don't have throw
pillows casually laying around.  I do not have ruffles on my couch or bed.
I don't have fancy curtains or covered toilet seats or pictures of kittens
and ducks around my house.  I have a man's house.  Or man cave, you might
say.  So instead of wasting my money on silly things, I managed to save and
invest quite a bit so I can now sit at home, waiting for something to
change my life.

	And today, it did.  I live near a middle school.  And, yes, it was
deliberate.  I am a boy lover, just as I assume you are as you are reading
this.  I'm not here to judge or be judged, that is just the way it is.

	Anyway, I was making a cup of tea and staring out my back window.
It just overlooks the back yard and the alley, but the alley is a frequent
and favorite shortcut for kids going to and from school.

	Most times they just walk by.  Paying no mind to anything.  Some
alone, some in groups.  And occasionally some nice eye candy wanders by.
Today, there was something more.  There were three boys, early teens.  They
were having a rather vocal argument.  It was clearly one-sided as two were
ganging up on the third, who happened to be a bit smaller than the others.
It ended up, with one of the boys pushing the smaller one down.  Followed
by him getting up and rushing to and attempting to push the boy that had
pushed him.  It reminded me of a little chihauhau barking and yelping at
bigger dogs.  All bark and no bite.

	The boy had side-stepped and the smaller went tumbling down again.
Words were being exchanged, not that I could hear what was being said, but
the faces told all and there seemed to be a lot of anger flowing between
the three.  Apparently the smaller one said something he shouldn't have, at
any rate, it was not well received and the two decided that things had to
be handled differently.

	The one that had been an observer so far, grabbed the smaller one,
pulling his arms behind his back and getting him into a strong hold.  The
other boy, who was a bit bigger than both, commenced to punch the hapless
victim in the stomach and made a couple of good shots to his nose and mouth
as well.

	I'm all for boys working out and settling their differences on
their own, and if it had just been yelling and pushing, I would have let it
be.  But when two are ganging and hitting on one, that is too much.  I came
out the door and moved toward the boys, who were too engaged to notice me.
I casually leaned onto the fence and in a rather loud voice, said:

	"I think that will do, guys.  I believe he has had enough."

	To say they were startled wouldn't describe it accurately.  They
almost jumped right out of their clothes.  Which would have been just
dandy, as far as I was concerned.  They turned looking at me in surprise,
then as if the two could read each others mind, the younger boy was dropped
to the ground and the two ran probably faster than they ever had before.
You just had to chuckle at the site.

	I went out to the younger one as he was sitting up and squatted
down beside him.  He was on the verge of crying and quite a mess.  He was
definitely putting on a brave front.  He looked up at me in a combination
of fear and wonder and perhaps some relief.  I got him up and started to
brush off some of the dirt, and asking the most ridiculous question in a
situation like this, I asked:

	"You OK, dude?"

	I tried to smile, but I was concerned.  His nose was bloody and his
lip busted.  His shirt torn.  He looked at me like I had just came out of
the turnip patch and said, in a rather indignant tone.  "No, I'm not
alright.  I just got my ass kicked.  Didn't you see?"

	He had a point, but I wanted to slap him anyway.  And it ran
through my head real quick that his smart mouth may have been the reason
the other two took him down.

	"Yes, I do see that," I tried to say as calmly as I could as I
continued to knock the dirt off of him.  "You want to come with me so we
can get you cleaned up a bit, or would you rather just get on home?"  I
asked, hoping he wanted my help.

	He looked at me for quite some time, I guess considering if he was
in any more danger than what I had just got him out of, when he nodded and
said, "Thanks."

	He followed me to the house and then seemed a bit reluctant to go
further.  I told him not to worry, but if he felt better about it, we could
take care of things on the back porch.  He nodded and sat down, as I went
in to get some things.

	I returned with a couple of washcloths, a bowl of warm water,
antiseptic ointment and band-aids and sat down beside him.  I started to
tend to him when, looking deep into my eyes and trying to stop from crying,
he said:

	"Thanks for your help.  I thought I was a goner.  They were pretty
pissed and would have kept it up for sure, if you hadn't come out."

	I told him that he was welcome as I dabbed the cloth on his sore
mouth, making him flinch.  I tried to be gentle as I made my way around his
face.  And what a cute face it was too.  But despite my interests in boys
his age, I continued my doctoring while trying not to stare at him and make
him even more uncomfortable and apprehensive.

	"You want to tell me what all that was about?"  I asked, as I
tended the cut over his eye.

	Looking at me with deep regard and with the most beautiful blue
eyes I have ever seen, he replied, "I'd rather not."  As he just sort of
looked beyond me.

	I nodded and finished.  Putting some ointment and a band-aid on the
cut over his eye and finished by wiping the dirt and streaks of tears from
his face.  Other than a busted lip and the cut over his eye, he was in
pretty good shape, and but for his shirt, he didn't look all that bad, so I
guessed I had interrupted them just in time.

	He moaned a bit as he clutched his stomach and I knew he had taken
a couple of good punches and asked if he wanted me to look at it, to which
he shook his head saying he would be OK.  I said fine and asked if he
needed any help getting home, to which he looked at me with surprise and a
very questioning look.

	"Well, you said yourself that those guys were pretty pissed off,
and if so, they might still be pissed off and waiting around the corner for
you.  One to finish the job they already started and to also find out if
you ratted them out for jumping you."  I said in a concerned way.

	He looked at me as it dawned on him the truth of the situation and
after some consideration, said that he would stay a bit, if it was OK with
me.  It was very much OK with me and I made sure he knew it.  It's not
often I get a young teen boy sitting on my back porch and I wasn't going to
rush him off if I could help it.

	I took the stuff back in and came out with a coke for him to which
he happily accepted.

	I looked him over, carefully.  Figuring him for 12 or 13.  He was
gorgeous, in a boyish way.  Slender, small frame.  Longish blonde hair.  A
small face, but everything in right proportion to it.  Meaning his nose,
ears and mouth did not stand out like on some boys.  You know what I mean,
they have that killer face, but have ears that you could hang glide with.

	He was perfect.  We sat there while he sipped his coke.  Carefully
studying me, just as I was studying him.  Breaking the silence, I asked
what his name was.  He continued to study me, I guess he was figuring how
much he should say or not say, then finally deciding it was ok,

	"It's Christoph" He said with a mix of pride and exasperation.

	An odd name to be sure, especially in middle America, but very cute
and seemed to fit him in a way.  I sensed that he was uncomfortable with it
and trying to bring him up a level, I put out my hand, saying:

	"I'm Chance, Christoph.  It's good to meet you."  still holding my
hand.

	He smiled and let loose a small laugh as he took my hand and shook
it.  It seemed that his nervousness was slowly fading.  His small laugh
turned into a giggle and then looking embarrassed, he quickly apologized,
saying that he had never heard a name like that.

	Smiling back at him, I told him not to worry over it, not many
people had.  I then told him how I came to have it.  My father and mother,
being active in the 60's had named me that as they thought that it was by
pure chance that I was born without multiple defects.  Referring to the
fact that they were heavy into drugs and figured it was an appropriate name
for me.  I went on to explain that they were hippies and we lived in a
commune with several other families and single men and women as well.  All
of who, meaning the adults, had answered the call to freedom and drugs and
everything else that goes with that.

	This really started him laughing to which I joined him.  I
continued my tale by telling him that I took a lot of flack over it and
ended up in a lot of fights like he just had because of it.  He nodded
knowingly and said that he takes a lot of grief about things as well.  It
was my turn to nod and I asked if that was what the fight was about, to
which he quickly said no and then looked to be somewhat upset, so I let it
go.

	I handed him my cell phone and said that he could call home if he
wanted.  He looked at me and shook his head, saying that his mother was not
home, so it didn't really matter.  I told him he could call her at work, to
which he replied he wasn't allowed to unless it was an emergency.  I told
him that getting the crap almost beat out of you was an emergency to most
mothers.  He looked at me with sad eyes saying not to his mother, it
wasn't.

	I asked about his dad and he said he didn't have one.  He seemed to
be getting more upset so I backed off on my questioning and asked again if
he wanted me to walk home with him.  He shook his head and asked if he
could stay a bit longer, to which I absolutely agreed.  I asked if he
wanted to come in, and after looking at me suspiciously for a bit, he
nodded and said OK.

	We went in and I motioned him through the house to the living room
and told him to make himself comfortable.  I went to my bedroom and got a
t-shirt for him, and although it was way too big for him, I offered it to
him in case he wanted to take off his torn shirt.  He looked at himself and
said he didn't know he was that messed up.  We laughed and I told him where
the bathroom was if he wanted to go in and clean himself up a bit more.  He
left the shirt I had offered him and mumbled his thanks as he headed off to
the bathroom, closing the door, much to my disappointment.

	After a short while, he flushed the toilet and came out, shirtless.
Boy, what a sight.  He was definitely on the thin side with a smooth,
hairless body.  He took my shirt he had left and put it on, raising his
arms, to which I quickly zoomed in, noticing that he had no hair in the
pits.  I was very much pleased.  I love young hairless boys.  I also
noticed the distinctive blue and gold band of Fruit of the Loom briefs
showing just above his pants.  I love boys in white briefs.  This was
definitely what my dreams were made of.

	I turned on the TV and tossed the remote to him saying he could
watch whatever he wanted and that he could stay as long as he wanted or
needed.  Looking sad, he said that his mother would not be home to very
late and that he appreciated my help.  I smiled saying it was no problem at
all.  He flipped through a few channels then said that he should get his
homework done and I told him that was a good idea and that he could sit at
the kitchen table.  I offered him a snack, which he declined, and still
nursing his coke, he made his way to the table and started his work.

	I busied myself in my 'study' which was just a spare room turned
into my computer room/library.  Trying to do everything to take my mind off
the boy sitting in my kitchen.  I couldn't and started to let my mind
wonder as to what he looked like naked and what, if anything, he had done,
or would do, when my thoughts were disturbed by him standing in the doorway
and slightly clearing his throat.  I was secretly hoping that I would not
have to get up, for I know he would notice the bulge in my pants.

	"I guess I should be going now.  I think it should be safe.  Can't
think that they would still be waiting for me and I need to get home so I
can eat."  He said, rather sadly, it appeared to me.

	I looked at him for some time as I willed my penis down and said:

	"OK, whatever you think best.  You are welcome to stay as long as
you want.  We can order us some pizza or something if you want to stay a
bit longer and eat, but whatever you want."  I said, trying not to sound
disappointed but somewhat sad at the same time, that he was going to leave.

	At the mention of pizza, his ears perked up and a smile appeared on
his face.  A hungry boy can never say no to a pizza.  He thought carefully,
then rather sadly, it seemed to me, said that he better not and that he
should go home.  I nodded and then wrote my number on a piece of paper and
handed it to him telling him if he needed anything to give me a call.

	I walked him to the door and shaking hands again, told him to be
careful and to drop by or call anytime he needed.  I was more than
disappointed.  While I didn't expect to get into his pants on the first
night, I did hope that it would happen eventually, but I just enjoyed him
being there with me.  He waved back at me as he disappeared down the
street.  I closed the door and went back to think of the boy that came into
my life that day.

	I was looking through my cupboards trying to think of something for
my dinner, when the door bell went off.  I was surprised as I didn't
receive many visitors and as it was rather late, it was even more confusing
as to who could be coming by at this time.

	I looked out the side window and there stood Christoph.  I opened
the door and with a confused look on my face, he asked if he could come in.
I motioned him in and seeing the questioning look on my face, he said that
he didn't feel like being home alone.  That he was hurting from the fight
and just wanted to sit with me so he wouldn't be alone.  He tossed me the
t-shirt I had loaned him as he came in the door saying thanks and that he
appreciated it.

	I told him that it was fine and that he could come by whenever he
wanted and lead him into the living room.  I asked him if he had eaten and
with a sad expression crossing his face and looking as if he wanted to say
something, just shook his head.  I said that he must be hungry then and
still looking sad, he said that yes, he was.  I asked if he felt like
having some pizza and with a smile finally coming to his face, he asked
what kind.

	I asked what kind he liked and he said pepperoni with lots of
cheese and lots of pepproni.  I told him that sounded perfect and went off
to call it in.  While waiting for the pizza, I asked if he wanted me to
check him out, to which he gave a confused looked.  When I explained I
meant to look him over to see if he had any other injuries that we might
have missed earlier.  He acknowledged his understanding and although with
some reluctance, he agreed and nodding his head, said yes, that he would
appreciate it, if I did.

	I stood him in front of me and started to slip his shirt over his
head.  He grabbed the bottom and then after searching my eyes, he released
it and raised his arms to allow me to remove it.  I examined him more
closely, now that I had him in front of me.  He was very thin, much thinner
than you would think a boy his age would be, even one active in sports.  He
had a couple of dark spots along his tummy which seemed consistent with
being punched.  I gently touched him there, causing him to flinch and groan
slightly.  It didn't seem to be too bad, but I did want to make sure it was
not serious for two reasons.  One, I loved touching his smooth, tight
belly.  And two, I was actually concerned he may be seriously hurt.  I'm
not a doctor or even a nurse or anything close to being medical, but I have
seen and even had my share of stomach punches, so I was not completely in
the dark.  And he had taken a couple of good, solid punches, so it was
something to look over.

	I pushed gently a couple of more times and rubbed my hand over he
stomach, gently grazing above his underwear.  I then moved to his ribs and
pushing and rubbing them steadily, checking for any damage or tenderness.
He jerked back saying that it tickled.  I apologized and said I would try
to be more careful.  He nodded and then said it was OK and that he had just
not expected it.  I rubbed my fingers over his tiny, but pert nipples.  He
flinched again, but not from pain and I noticed his breathing starting to
change.  I moved my hands over his nipples a couple of times and even
rested them there for a moment, then I reluctantly finished with his body
and took his head into my hands, looking at him closely.  His lovely mouth,
his very cute nose, and his most adorable deep blue eyes.  We looked deeply
at each other for some time, before I released him and said that I could
not see anything wrong and asked where else he may be hurting.  Just
pointing around the spots on his belly, he said that was the worse.  I felt
his belly again, pushing slightly and moving my hand over the top band of
his underwear a few times and finally announced that I didn't think there
was any serious damage, but that he would be sore for a few days.  He
nodded his understanding.

	I held his shirt out to him and he willing raised his hands as I
slipped it back on him.  Taking note that it was rather old, and although
it fitted OK, it seemed like it was something he had had for some time and
just never grew out of it.

	We sat in silence in the living room waiting for the pizza.  The
silence was extremely loud.  And hating it to be so quiet, I turned on the
stereo and listened to some music while we waited.  It seemed like he
wanted to say something, but was unsure or uncomfortable about what to say
or if he should say anything at all.  Fortunately, he didn't have to decide
just yet as the door bell went off announcing the arrival of our pizza.

	I gave Christoph the money and let him pay, which seemed to please
him and brought a smile to his face.  I motioned him to the kitchen where
he placed the pizza on the table while I got us some cokes.

	We sat eating our pizza.  Well, I sat eating.  Christoph inhaled
his, more or less.  Diving through three pieces before even stopping for
air or a drink.  After a long drink and an equally long belch, he seemed
satisfied and appeared in a better mood as he downed his fourth piece.  He
had a beautiful smile, even though his teeth were a bit crooked and in need
of braces.  It just made him all that much more adorable, especially with
pizza sauce all around it.

	He wiped his face and then with a determined look and with a hint
of hesitation, he said:

	"I'm gay.  That's why they were picking on me.  They wanted me to
suck them off.  I refused and tried to get away, but they followed me down
the ally.  When I told them to get their mothers to suck them off, that
really pissed them off and that is why they beat me up."

	I was shocked.  I hadn't expected such a frank statement from him.
He started to look worried about what he had said and then as sadness
crossed his face again, he made to get up, and I assume run for the door.

	As he started to go, I said, "I'm gay too, so I know exactly what
you mean.  I got beat up a time or two when I was your age.  So, you can
stay and talk about it, or stay and not talk about it, or go on home,
whichever you want.  But, I do understand Christoph and I'm here for you if
you need."

	Tears welled in his eyes as he jumped for me and threw his arms
around my neck.  His grip was so hard, I had to pull him off before I
choked.  I pulled him off and stroking his face and pushing the hair out of
his eyes, I told him it was all OK and not to worry over it.  He looked
somewhat relieved.  I'm not sure if it was because I was not mad or because
he was able to unload his misery on someone, or perhaps it was both.  But
his relief was evident, all the same.

	I put the pizza away and lead him into the living room.  I sat on
the couch and somewhat to my surprise, he sat right next to me.  He didn't
really seem happy, but seemed comfortable at least as he flipped through
the channels on the TV, not really being interested in anything, but
interested enough to avoid a conversation.

	It was closing in on 10pm when I suggested that it might be time
for him to get home before his mother got to worrying about him.  He said
that there was not much chance of that as she did not usually make it home
until midnight or later or if at all.  He said that he had spent the night
alone several times for some time now.

	I felt bad for the kid and wanted to keep him with me, but knowing
that couldn't happen, I told him he needed to get home anyway, just in
case.  He nodded his acceptance and then slowly moved to the door.  I
followed him and opened it for him telling him to come by anytime he wanted
and that he call me if he needed.  He told me he didn't have a phone but he
would like to come by if I was sure it was OK.  I told him it was more than
OK and that he could make his way here quickly after school and stay as
long as he needed or wanted, telling him that the door would be unlocked,
should he need a quick entry.  He smiled and gave me a tight hug around my
waist.  Waving and saying good night, he started home.  I closed the door
and wondered where this would go or if it would go anywhere.  It was
obvious that he was lonely and wanted someone to talk to.  I guessed that
he was having a hard time of it at school and that this afternoon was
probably not the first time he had taken heat for being gay.  It was
obvious he had a difficult time at home as well.  An absent father and an
equally absent mother who was not very concerned about him or his welfare.

	I tossed and turned all night as I wondered where I could take
this; where should I take it.  Then I became sad thinking that he was home
all alone with no one for support or comfort.  I had many decisions to make
and wanted to make sure they were the right ones and for the right reasons.
I was concerned for the boy.  And I lusted after him as well.  Finding the
balance, if there was one, would be difficult.  How could I help him
without taking advantage of him?  Is that even possible?  Should I leave
him to care and fend for himself?  It was apparent he was looking for
something, someone.  What did this mean for me?  What would it mean for
him?  What would it mean for us?



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Again, this is just a story.  It is all a figment of my imagination. Your
comments are welcomed.  Your rants and condemnation will be ignored.
Zatarra

Toruk_Macto@hushmail.com