Date: Thu,  8 Jan 2004 18:47:56 -0800
From: ganymede04@hushmail.com
Subject: Jeremy: Definitely Ok

Not all of this is true, as you will read, but it does deal with the
relationship between a man and a boy. If you would like to comment or read
more, email me at ganymede04@hushmail.com. Your privacy is guaranteed.

JEREMY: A Rest Stop

The alarm did not have to go off.

For in my awakened state, I was well aware of the new day, the time and my
thoughts.

All I can tell you is that my right hand was wrapped around my cock, my
fingers touching myself and my eyes somewhere else,

So, why? Let me drift off...

"Hey, it's only me," I said, standing a few steps behind Jeremy, a
12-year-old eighth grader.

"No problem," he said, moving his right foot.

As we paused at a rest stop along the Giant Sequoia Highway, Jeremy was
standing at the urinal. It had not been a long drive, but we had stopped 20
minutes or so earlier for lunch and he had finished off two 32 ounce soft
drinks.

His slightly tanned legs, smooth and firm, were visible as I stopped to
look. A sensation swept over me, like it does whenever I'm with Jeremy.

"It's awesome here," I said.

"Yeah," he said, shifting himself again, waiting for something to happen.

I watched, and hoped.

"So," said Jeremy, "what now."

Don't ask me that, I said to myself. What do you think, you cutie.

There is silence and I can hear the gentle flow of Jeremy's piss. I want to
take a few steps closer, and in my mind I do.

Approaching, I put my left hand on his bony shoulder, my right hand across
his chest.

He is still, standing no more than five feet tall, weighing maybe 120
pounds, at the most. He has blondish hair, short but stylish, green eyes
and a smooth beautiful face. And braces.

We met more than a year ago, when I offered to help his middle school track
team. He was a long jumper, and achieved a couple of personal bests. It
wasn't anything I did, but rather it was someone just taking an interest in
him.

We were on a Boy Scout trip this day, completing three of his badges. We
had left our home area and headed south, toward the Sequoia National Park.

As I touched his shoulder, I felt something special, a feeling that had
existed from the first time I saw him. Yes it was both emotional and
physical, and we both knew it.

My right hand moved inside his t-shirt. By now, he had finished at the
urinal, but he remained standing, facing the wall.

I cupped my hand and felt his nipple; my left hand, meanwhile, slipped down
the side of his body.

"Oh," he said, the only words we would exchange over the next minutes

Jeremy was not the best athlete or the brightest student at his school. But
there was something about him. He lived with his grandparents during the
week and his mom on weekend, along with two older brothers.

It took me months to admit to him my thoughts and feelings, plus the
assurance that nothing would happen between us physically. That is, unless
he was agreeable. He needed a gentle love, a caring love, a nurturing love,
a kind love, a sincerity.

There was a trust, one that would not be broken, but there also were
feelings for one another.

As the front of my body pushed against the back of his, I took both my arms
and held him. Good feelings crossed my mind.

He did not shake.

My head rested on his for a few seconds and my eyes closed.

A few steps away, a shower area for travelers, with three stalls, each with
a door.

I held my hands to his shoulder and we walked to the middle shower stall. I
locked the door and resumed holding him.

Again, no words were said.

I thought about all the things we had done together, at least once a week
during track season and maybe twice a month after that, and how special our
time was. His grandmother agreed (I had told her I was a boylover) and just
said to be good to him.

Would I be violating him? The thought hung over me. But somehow this all
seemed so right.

As my alarm went off, I reached over, punched it, and crawled back under
the comforter and dozed off again.

My hands pulled Jeremy and I started to remove his shirt. He held his arms
over his head as I pulled his shirt off.

I looked over his body, my hands again pressed against his waist. I felt
his rubs and started to tickle him slightly, stopping when I realized how
much I hated being tickled, but he didn't move. So I continued to touch him
gently. A chill came over me as I felt his smooth boyish skin and watched a
faint smile come over his face, his braces sparkling

A minute or so passed as my hands moved across his chest and to his
stomach. His eyes remained shut as I slipped my hands inside his jeans.
They pressed softly against his waist, my fingers wanting to wander lower.

My right hand moved toward the button on his jeans. Snap. I pulled the top
of his jeans apart, sliding his zipper slowly. My right fingers then felt
the smoothness of his briefs, then the elastic band. I snapped the band,
and Jeremy flinched slightly.

Should I stop? I looked at him and that innocent half smile was still on
his face. His lovely face.

Just a couple of days ago, Jeremy stopped by my office after school. He
showed up with a pair of torn jeans and a shirt he had removed by the time
he reached my door. Even then, he was acting a bit out of character, almost
like a tease, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Sure, I would
have loved to have shut the door, but I told him to get his shirt on, that
this was my studio.

So, seeing him this time, his shirt off, his jeans pulled off, was almost
more than I had ever expected.

Sitting there, his legs relaxed, wearing only a pair of white briefs,
Jeremy looked so at home, so comfortable.

Again, my breathing became erratic.

My right hand slipped inside the elastic on his briefs. My fingers touched
him and I remembered another time, when we were at the beach, when he was
on his hands and knees, digging something in the sand, his tight ass facing
me. As he moved, it was as if (I wish) he was inviting me to get close, to
touch him. But that wasn't the time or the place. Perhaps this was.

As thoughts of a naked boy went through my head, thoughts of counsel from
another, given to me during our time with the boys of Hollywood, crossed my
mind. Never, he said, never let your desires get the best of you. Keep your
distance.

I certainly wasn't keeping my distance from Jeremy, and I wanted to back
off. But he was so willing, so agreeable, to ready. Heck, it's been a lot
easier the other times, with boys I just happened to meet along the road,
boys every bit as cute as Jeremy, boys who would remain anonymous.

Jeremy moved slightly, his left hand rubbing his thigh. His eyes opened and
he said, "hey." Then his eyes closed again, as if an invitation to
continue.

I reached over and started to pull his briefs off. Then he lifted his
body. And I slid his briefs below his knees, then to his feet. He shook his
feet and the briefs fell off.

As he lay there, his legs slightly spread, his dick getting a little
harder, Jeremy took his left hand and tugged at his ball sac.

I was torn between looking at him play with himself or moving closer. I
watched him rub himself for a few seconds and then I took both of my hands
and started to massage his upper thigh.

Jeremy removed his hand from his ballsac and smiled again as I started to
massage him.

I bent over and put my lips against his stomach, feeling my rock hard cock
throb against my jeans.

This feeling for Jeremy, and for other boys his age has been with me for
years, ever since I was 12, and there was nothing like it. I don't and
never have understood the feeling guys get for girls. Right now, I was
where I wanted to be, and Jeremy was, too.

My face moved toward his boyhood and soon my tongue was on his dickhead.

There was nothing I could do to stop, either. No regrets. It was as natural
as breathing, as I placed my mouth on his dick and started to suck. Ever so
slightly, as if to get the sweet taste of this boy. His body moved slightly
as I sucked my cheeks together. I could feel his dick reacting and I
continued.

After a minute or so, I moved my mouth away, taking my hands and pressing
them against his ass.

I stopped a few seconds later, rubbing his legs from his ankles to his
waist, and then pulling away again.

"That's enough," I said, breaking my silence.

Jeremy lifted his head, smiled and said, "that's ok. Thanks."

That, too, was another invitation. Jeremy sat up, got dressed, and went to
the kitchen for a soft drink.

He returned, his shirt off, his jeans unbuttoned.

"OK?" he asked.

Definitely OK.