Date: Sat, 4 Dec 2004 17:52:51 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: The Gentleman Adventurer

			 THE GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     You know what's worse than having to live in a house with no air
conditioning in the hottest part of the summer? Having that house be a pool
house, with the pool right outside your window in plain view...and you not
allowed to use it!
     Mom had taken a job as a housekeeper and cook, and the poolhouse was
part of the deal. It was a fair-sized place, three rooms, each eight foot
on a side with a shower and a toilet and sink along the inside of the far
wall (they were meant to be changing rooms). The three rooms weren't
connected to each other, they were side by side, but we could use one for
my own bedroom, one for Mom's bedroom and the other for a minuscule living
room. To get from one room to the other, we had to walk out the front door
(well, a floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall sliding-glass window with curtains
just inside that, and it was possible to remove the windows entirely and
store them, leaving the rooms open to the air) and onto the patio and back
inside the other room.
     The old lady who owned the big house on the other side of this
pool-and-patio--Fahrquarson was her last name and about all I knew about
her--was a dried-up, mean-spirited, old stick of a woman. She had intended
to offer the housekeeper a tiny room next to the kitchen, but Mom had
pointed out my existence, a fourteen-year-old boy, whereupon the deal was
struck that Mom and I got the poolhouse, and I had to chip in and work on
the grounds on evenings and weekends, mowing the yard, trimming the hedges
and other bushes, weeding the flower beds, raking the leaves and probably
shoveling the snow in winter. That had turned out to be a steady
three-hour-a-day job and somehow I didn't think that time was going to get
less any time soon.
     On top of the poolhouse, we got our meals up at the house's kitchen
(and from what Mom had served me so far, I think Old Lady Fahrquarson had
laid down the law about how much and what we got!) and Mom got a stingy
little salary on top of that. Still, with Dad dead and his medical bills
having long ago chewed up our small savings including my college fund, and
since the sale of our house had not quite covered the rest of it, leaving
us still $12,000.00 in debt for his funeral and one step away from
homelessness, Mom had done the best she could. So I couldn't really
complain, even when "Old F" (that's what I called her to myself, to my
Mother I called her "Mrs. F") had decided that I would not be allowed to
play in the pool or sit on the patio or such. I had to stay indoors, work
on the grounds, or leave the property. Some choice on a hot day!
     I sat watching television on the little black-and-white portable,
sweating like crazy and craving a dip in the pool just five feet away from
me, cool and blue and enticing and completely unused by anyone ever, trying
to decide if going to the park some six blocks away would be worth the
miserable walk there. And those bushes were still not trimmed to Old F's
specifications, that job was waiting for me still and Old F would say
something to Mom most likely until I was done with them.
     So I got fed up. I could see the bushes moving, a little breeze was
moving, I decided to just get up and get the lousy job over with...and if I
fell in the pool by accident afterwards, that's just what happens
sometimes.
     So I got up and headed out toward the small tool shed at one side of
the house, a tiny tin box like an oversized dog house. Those clippers would
be red-hot from the sun hitting that thing, I'd have to hose them down or
lay them in the shade long enough to cool down where I could hold them!
     I went to the toolshed, got out the work gloves and the hedge clippers
and started back to the pool where that row of bushes were. That's when I
saw him.
     Big, bronzed, strong, self-assured, with neat black hair and a tiny
mustache, wearing only mirrored sunglasses and a pair of tiny black
Speedos, lounging on one of those never-used deck chairs, soaking up the
sun.
     I didn't think the Old F had a friend in the world! Must be a relative
of hers come to stay. Nobody would bother telling me when they did. He
looked to be asleep, I'd have to be quiet while I worked.
     I started clipping at those damable bushes. The leaves were flying
such that I knew I'd have to rake after I finished clipping, not just
gather up and shove the clipped branches into the nearest trash can. She
wanted them "round, but not too round, and all of them nice and even, like
a row of little soldiers just alike." Old F apparently didn't know squat
about bushes, there was no way these bushes would turn out just alike!
     But I was trying. Clipping, stepping around and looking down the
row. Have to go back after that second bush and clip it some more, it was
sticking out too much. And that fourth bush was too slender, but it was
going to have to do. I muttered to myself as I pruned, twelve bushes, and
only seven were done after an hour and I was sweating like a pig and that
water was behind me and begging me to come dive in. I could have an
accident, but it would have to look like an accident.
     I looked at the house guest again and his head was turned toward me,
sunglasses shining with reflected sun. Closer to him now, and assured he
was asleep, I looked at him at my leisure.
     His face was neither round nor angular, but a perfect balance between
the two, giving him an air of regality, of nobility. He wasn't that
muscular, but his body was nicely portioned and curved everywhere, all soft
round arcs on his nut-brown body. He was a sun-lover, that was for certain,
nobody could get that even, that beautiful, a tan without working at
it. His Speedos made sense when you remembered that, they covered the bare
minimum of his body and that barely. His groin was a rotund ball between
his legs, filling the fabric and distending it in an almost exaggerated
way. His hair was not very thick on his chest, but what there was made
patterns, designs and swirls around both nipples, as if they were leading
your eye around and thickening in places to further accent the modest
accomplishments of his muscles. That mustache was an affectation, so thin
but what was there was solidly black, he could have grown a thick
bush...and chose not to! His hair was sleek and close to his scalp, the
result of long grooming with lotions and oils. I could see this man at a
board meeting, president of a large company, or better yet, a gentleman
adventurer, one of the idle rich who traveled around the globe because
money was not a problem now or ever, he could go wherever his mood struck
him, fleeing the ice and snow for sunny islands or escaping the heat of
summer by traveling high into the mountains where the sun was helpless
against the majestic rocks and thick layers of snow....
     "Are you done with the hedge clippers?" he asked me.
     I blushed, I'm sure, I felt my face grow hot. "No, just taking a
break." I said, wielding the clippers in front of me like an ineffectual
weapon, like a knight swings his sword while tackling a dragon the size of
a house...it isn't much, but it's all he has!
     "Sit down and rest." he invited me. "Talk to me a while."
     I sank down on the chair next to him gratefully. Old F hadn't told me
not to sit in the chairs, but she had implied it...but as her guest's
guest, so to speak, I could sit and talk.
     He asked me about myself, assuming I had been hired by Old F just to
come in and clip the bushes, and I explained my role in the household. He
smiled at that. "So you'll be here every day."
     "I live right over there." I said. "My bedroom is the one on the
left."
     "Good to know that." he said with a voice rich as velvet, smooth as
polished gold. I felt a fluttering in my stomach as he smiled, those
glasses revealing nothing...and at the same time, letting me transfer
anything I wanted onto him.
     "How long are you staying here?" I asked him.
     "Oh." he waved a hand airily. "I come and go."
     "You do a lot of traveling?" I asked eagerly.
     "Some." he smiled indulgently. Liar, he had seen the world, he just
didn't want to talk about it right then. He proved that by changing the
subject. "So you really are staying in the poolhouse?" he asked me.
     "Yeah, me and my mother." I said.
     "Do those windows on your room even lock?"
     "No." I admitted. "But this whole place is gated, so who cares? I
mean, anyone who would break in isn't going to hit the poolhouse, and even
if they did, we don't have much."
     "So anyone could just walk in on you at night." He said. And again, I
felt the fluttering, but it was lower down.
     "Yeah." I said. "In fact, I'm thinking of taking that door off
entirely, I'll bet it'd be cooler at night if I did."
     "I'm sure it would be." he said and shifted in his seat, his buttocks
wiggling back and forth.
     That called my attention away from those eyes, those opaque screens I
had been peering into, and at his crotch. Speedos are able to cover up a
man's private parts...but not when they begin to stir and rise up!
     His black swimsuit strained and stretched upwards, a swelling bubble
of enraged manhood, too large to pretend it wasn't there. And he didn't
try.
     And I didn't try to hide how I was staring at it. Reached down and
shifted my own erection in my blue-jeans. Looking at that big bulge, how it
bragged about the contents within, a real tool hidden inside!
     I looked back up at him and he again was like the Sphinx, his face
unmoving, his eyes hidden, unfathomable. Then he gave a little nod, partly
an agreement, partly a gesture downwards.
     It was all I needed. I got up from that chair and was kneeling by him
in no time. He helped me unleash that monster, untying the Speedos and
releasing the fabric and I could now reach in and I did.
     Hot, so hot, but this was a good kind of hot! My stomach was churning,
God, I'd never touched a guy before, and this was a man, a real man, a
powerful man, a rich man! He could take me places I'd never been before,
China, Europe, South America, Tahiti! Not that I was turning into a
gold-digger here, and was too young to go anywhere without my mother's
permission which I wouldn't get, but that sort of power...it has its draw
on you just the same. I felt his dong and I felt...power, the rarified kind
of power that doesn't have to prove itself to anybody, that it could come
lie by the pool in this medium-sized Midwestern town, not needing to prove
itself.
     My fingers curled about that shaft and this man, this power, gave out
a small groan. "Go ahead, boy, take it out." he said to me, his voice soft,
intimate, almost a whisper. Secretive, seductive and sensual.
     I did, tucking the Speedos down below his balls and I beheld the
monster I held in my ineffectual hand. Thick, deep brown in color, the
color of his tan but this was natural darkening of the skin. His cockhead
was a redder hue, kind of pinkish-brown, a narrow tipped mushroom shape
above the fat fold of the foreskin, the slit glistening from a drop of
precome that hadn't yet exuded into the full air.
     "Go ahead." he said again, a throaty murmur that welled from deep in
his breast.
     I began to work his prick, pumping it up and down, feeling how thick
it was and how warm the foreskin was and how it drap ed in heavy folds over
the top of my hand as I milked it upwards. That clear droplet of precome
shone like a miniature sun. I watched that crystalline globe, my eyes wide,
my mouth open, panting a little though not with exertion. My new friend was
panting, too, as I wielded his man-pipe with a strong, steady pump.
     "Go ahead." he told me again, and I realized he wanted more.
     I was fourteen and not dumb in the ways of the world. I knew I should
lean over and suck on him. But I wasn't that sure how.
     His hand came up and caught the back of my head and urged it
downwards. I lowered my head under his gentle pressure, but held off at the
last moment. "Sir, I...I don't know how." I admitted.
     "Really?" he purred. "Don't worry about it, I can teach you. Teach you
the right way."
     "Yeah." I said.
     "Let me get up." He said and I skittered back on my knees to give him
room and he slipped into some sandals he had there, to protect his feet
from the hot stones of the patio, and he stood above me, his proud pillar
beckoning to me. And he removed his mirrored sunglasses and I looked into
black orbs of his eyes, and they were kindly and benevolent, but with a
sheen of incipient lust in them as well, they glowed from within and that
glow was power and ardor mixing and complementing each other.
     "Now, young man." he began and I listened to his simple, direct
instructions happily, obeyed him, working up my saliva until I had a good
mouthful and then opened my mouth and he took my head in his hand again and
guided it into my mouth. Hot, hot manmeat, it was heat on a hot day, and my
world was hot, my skin was flushed from my exertions under the summer sun,
my skin was flushed from the desire that welled up within me, I looked up
into this sun-worshiper, this body which was too perfect for labor and too
rich to need to, he stood above me and guided his prick into me as a ship
is guided into harbor.
     I felt the heavy shaft sliding over my spit-slicked tongue, a silvery
serpent of passion slipping within, and I felt it fill my gullet, the head
cram into my throat and I obeyed him as well as I could, relaxing my
muscles and letting him push into me, his strength and his power surging
into me as he did.
     But I was a novice and could not sustain him, and as I began to catch,
he sensed it and pulled back, not withdrawing from me, but leaving only the
head within my mouth, while he murmured soft encouragement, telling me to
hold tight, not fight it, let the sensations slide over me, and I did, and
the desire to gag passed without discomfort.
     He began to thrust his cock into me, but not so far this time, just
letting my lips provide the friction, giving me ample time to get used to
this fleshy invader into my body, it was so big, so hot, so strong, and now
a powerful aroma began to ooze from his groin, the musky, deep, rich,
redolent odor of untamed man, born of the beast from which our race sprang,
it lurks there still within this part of our bodies, ready to exude from
the pores when we give it the least license, the primordial animal rut,
something we share with nature still despite the long years of development
and civilization. Not even soap will wash it all away, it pours out of our
very soul and cannot be denied, and this primordial aura enveloped me and
carried me with it, I was the beast's mate, and it would take me!
     With that, something in the front of my brain shut down and a part
further back awakened and took over. Now I moved without thinking, without
needing to consider it, my body scorned the need to gag, I was awakened
now, and my body complied with the needs, now he could force that huge dong
into me and it would fit easily, now my body had coated his dong with a
thick slather of fluid, heavy greasy oils that clung tightly and which
eased the way, giving his cock a familiarity to me. He belonged inside me
now, and he could take me.
     Now his body was pumping at me harder and I began to move with him,
and again I didn't need to think about it or analyze it, my young form was
one with his, we were paired in the need, alpha male and beta male, I was
beneath him and I was safe because he favored me, I would please him and he
would protect me.
     For himself, the suave, svelte gentleman adventurer was gone, now he
was a rutting man like any other, his body was moving to a more basic beat
which pre-dated all currency and all hierarchy save perhaps that of the
shaman dancing to placate the gods, and we danced in the attempt to satisfy
this god of lust which held us in thrall.
     So I watched this resurgence of primal man, the way his body moved in
graceful harmony with nature, his muscles all acting in accord to plunge
himself deeply into me, deeply and quickly. And I felt my own body moving
with him, striving to accentuate and enhance his pleasure, matching his
pace, extending it with my own motions, so that he was driving in and out
of me in long strokes that his body didn't have to sustain by itself, and
he groaned. "Oh, oh, I'm going to come." he gasped out. "Can I shoot it in
your mouth, boy? Can you take it for me?"
     I was proud he asked me, giving me an out if I needed it, that made me
want it so I could make him happy, and I held on tight and he moaned,
gasped, and then gave out a long, low, gutteral sound, and that was when
his cock burst forth inside of me.
     Long, slow and creamy, that was his load, it oozed rather than flew,
it was like having an ice cream cone in your mouth and just letting it
decide how much of its contents it would pour into you, only that is cold
and this was hot, so hot! I drank down the hot, slippery jism and craved
more which he gave to me, it was like drinking from the well of life
itself, the fountain of manhood, it sprang forth into me and I loved it,
loved it all!
     Done, panting, he gave me a sort of hug like that and stepped back and
I stood up, to say my thank you.
     But he forestalled that with his next comment. "Now it's your turn,
boy, drop those pants and let me have that boy-dick!"
     My own cock had slackened during this period, dormant but not drained,
it was just waiting for this sort of thing. It surged to life, and I
grunted eagerly as I tugged at my jeans, while this man, this big, strong
man, knelt before my body. My six inches of adolescent prick jutted at him
and he smiled on it, approvingly. "Nice." he said and that was when he
gulped it down.
     He was no novice as I had been, his actions were swift and assured, he
knew just what to do and when to do it. I was buffeted by the wash of
sensations that surged over me, new sensations I'd never felt before and
they trampled whatever reserve I should have mustered, for I was groaning
in no time, my cock was ready to shoot, and shoot right now!
     "Oh, oh, mister, I'm going to come!" I gasped out and that was all I
could get out, for that quickly, I was ready to come! I said those words, I
felt climax grip my brain like a vise and squeeze! Only a strangled wail
fled my lips in warning and then I was shooting.
     He drank my little load easily, lavishly, he could have taken twice
that or more without trouble, so for me, he was able to siphon it off as
quickly as I pumped it into him, and his tongue was cool turquoise passion
upon my cockshaft, as it licked at the bottom of my cock and the tip
tickled my balls.
     Panting, my cock a limp flap in his mouth, he let go and I sank back
to sit on the chair. He smiled at me, and I smiled back, we were friends
now and more than friends, a familiarity had been born now, all that
remained was to learn what there was to know of each other, the
peripherals, not the essentials.
     "God, you kids are always so quick to come." He said and this wasn't
criticism but sheer appreciation. "And horny as hell. I could suck you off
again in another hour, I bet."
     "If you want to." I said, wiping my brow.
     He just smiled.
     "Man, I'm thirsty." I said. "I'm going into the house and get some
lemonade. You want some?"
     "No, thank you." he said. "You go ahead."
     I got up, tucked in my spent dick and zipped up my pants and took off
for the house. I looked back once, and saw him standing there, his towel
over one shoulder, grinning as he watched me leave.
     I got into the house and my Mother said, "Heavens, what have you been
doing?"
     I couldn't tell her the truth! "Clipping those bushes." I said.
     "How much have you done?"
     "About half."
     "Better leave the rest for tomorrow." Mom said. "You look so flushed
and red, like you're about to pass out."
     Well, that was close enough. "Is there any lemonade?" I asked her.
     She poured me a glass. "It's too hot in that poolhouse." she said,
paused and I saw her struggle with herself, make herself say the
words. "Mrs. Fahrquarson has offered us the room the housekeeper would have
taken; there's a bed already in there. Why don't...." She trailed off,
about to offer but not really wanting to.
     "Aw, it'll be cool enough at night." I said. "And I'm getting used to
the heat, honest. You take that bed, you're the one inside all day."
     "Well...if you're sure you won't mind." She gave in quickly. "I
haven't been sleeping well in that poolhouse and Mrs. Fahrquarson noticed
how tired I was."
     "I'll be fine." I said. "I want to take that window completely off,
just leave the curtain up. And maybe even open that up when I go to bed."
     "I'm sure that'll be fine." Mom said. "Though I worry about you being
out there alone all the time."
     "Oh, Mrs. F's houseguest and I talked." I said glibly. "He's real
nice."
     "Houseguest?" Mom was puzzled. "There's nobody staying here. You must
have met one of the neighbors. Talked to him through the fence, did you?"
     "Uh, yeah." I ad-libbed quickly.
     "Then he's one of the neighbors." Mom said. "Mrs. Fahrquarson never
has guests."
     "Oh." I said and I let it go and so did she. Who, then, had been lying
out by Old F's pool?
     I finished the lemonade and went back to the poolhouse. There was a
note on my bedroom window. Just three words: "Be back tonight." it said. It
was unsigned, but I knew it was from my gentleman adventurer.
     I thought about it and then went to fetch the wrench I needed to take
the sliding-door completely off of my bedroom.

				  THE END
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