Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2008 01:02:58 -0500
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: JAMIE WESTON - 5

JAMIE WRESTON - 5

Copyright 2008 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Jamie Wreston" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to
the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 5

(Revisiting Chapter 4)

Matt couldn't quite believe that the boys could eat another meal, but on
the advice of other Sponsors he arranged with an Italian lady in town to
provide two extra large, custom pizzas.  Together with more ice cream, they
disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared!  For some months,
parenthetically, all three boys remembered these pizzas and requested them
time and again.  Also, before the two Mids had to leave, Jeb and Matt
discussed the former's willingness to give Jamie some guidance in sound
bodybuilding and agreed to purchase the few items that were needed.  If Rob
were not available on a weekend when the boys wanted to work, he offered to
drive over to Annapolis and pick Jeb up.  Later in the day, he heavily
praised Jamie for his decision to begin working out in a "safe and sane"
manner.

(Continuing Our Story: Sunshine after the Rain)

The beginning of Jamie's thirteenth year had surely not been auspicious -
not that a male's thirteenth year is usually all that easy anyway.  (Ask
'most any parent...or eighth grade teacher!)  Nevertheless, after all the
rain that had poured down on the redhead's life, Matt breathed a sigh of
relief when the sunshine finally broke through the clouds.

Obviously, his early contact with the two Annapolis midshipmen had
delighted all involved.  And so it was with his enrollment in the Anne's
Harbor middle school.  Like most early teens, he was terrified of the first
day.  He shouldn't have worried!  He was tall, he was good-looking, he was
an exuberant redhead!  Though no nerd, he was smart as a whip with a solid
foundation in the basic subjects.  Further, he was skilled at his favorite
sport, soccer.  He was just coming off a fantastic Saturday with the two
midshipmen whom he liked and who clearly liked him.  While difficult days
were still to come, Matt Wreston had pulled him through a period that could
have destroyed him psychologically.  All things told, it was probably not
all that surprising that within less than two weeks he had been accepted by
the most popular guys in the school and marked by his teachers as a
pleasure to have in class...or on the sports field.

Matt couldn't shut him up at home!  On several occasions he had to insist
that Jamie breathe between mouthfuls of food!  He had so much to tell a man
he loved more every day.  There were teachers to describe - most of whom he
liked far better than those at his former private school.  His soccer coach
was the greatest - and he had already made friends with the top soccer
player on the team.  As a matter of fact, he seemed to be very happy with
his new schoolmates.  In the main they were sons and daughters of College
personnel and a large number of "Eastern Shore" types.  Both Matt and Jamie
found them to be the antithesis of street-wise punks and the spawn of the
wealthy who had far too much money and far too little emotional involvement
with their social- climbing parents.  With one notable exception, those
parents who fit that description usually lived on the Eastern Shore only
during the summer or sent their offspring to a number of private boarding
schools throughout the Eastern United States.  Strangely enough, the one
exception was Dylan Smith, his fellow eighth grade soccer enthusiast.

In some ways, Jamie and Dylan had similar backgrounds.  Like Jamie's mother
and father, Dylan's were highly involved in their professional and social
careers.  (Matt decided early on, however, that Jamie's parents, especially
his mother, had probably been more concerned with his welfare and more
supportive emotionally.)  Dylan's father had served as an official in the
federal bureaucracy for years and spent much of his time in Washington.
When he didn't stay overnight at their house in Georgetown, a chaffered
limousine took him back and forth between their large estate east of Anne's
Harbor and his office.  Mrs. Smith was widely regarded as the social
arbiter of the Eastern Shore, as well as a highly regarded D.C. hostess.
Although her elderly mother now lived on the estate in Anne's Harbor, her
family was "old Georgetown".  Indeed, she had been born and debuted there.
During the winter, Mr. and Mrs. Smith spent many long weekends in the
social hot spots of the Caribbean.  It was fortunate that their one son was
bright, friendly, and had his sports, for he was rarely included in their
lives.

Dylan and Jamie took to each other from their first meeting in an eighth
grade orientation session.  Matt guessed the Dylan found a kindred spirit -
an emotional reaction that was sealed by the fact that Jamie was as gifted
at soccer as he and that they shared many of their top academic sections.
The bond was further developed when Dylan chose to run daily with Jamie.
The coach was adamant; Jamie had to make up for the summer development
program that had been prescribed.  >From the first week, Jamie was
frequently invited to the estate.  Whenever Matt allowed - or they didn't
have soccer practice - he would commonly be picked up by an employee at
school and returned home for supper or his evening study time.  Over time,
Dylan was increasingly found at Jamie's, for he loved the warm, informal
relationship between Jamie and his dad.  For his part, Matt had no problem
taking the tall drink of water under his wing and treating him essentially
as he did his new son.

It was also the case that Jamie became deeply involved during the autumn
months with the exercise program supervised by Jeb Burns.  Jamie, often
joined by Dylan, worked out at least four times per week.  On those
Saturdays when Jeb was able to be in Anne's Harbor, both Jamie and Dylan
often began their work in the pool with the plebe, followed by lunch, and
then by some serious running.  (On Saturdays when both midshipmen drove
over, Robbie tended to spend more time with Matt - as he did on the one
full weekend leave that was possible for the heavily involved Second
Classmen.)  When there was no event at Dylan's house, Mrs. Smith often
allowed all three young men - plus Grunt, of course - to run on their
estate.  The property was huge, most kept in its natural state, including
paths, trees, fields, two creeks, and some low hills.  Evidently, even more
important was the fact that it was very private.  Matt went out to pick
them up one early evening, for instance, parking in a wooded area not long
before the three young men came into sight.  Running hard, they were
dripping sweat from every pore.  Matt would have had to be a stone not to
have also noticed that, other than running shoes, they were stark naked -
and that all three young men were h-u-n-g!  Actually, while a good six
inches soft, the blond's cock was a little shorter than those of the two
thirteen year olds!  At the same time, it was much thicker and rested on a
considerably heavier and more compact sack.  A couple of days later, Matt
asked Jamie how he was able to jog, let alone run full out, without
painfully banging his equipment.  Unlike Jeb's package, both boys had large
balls that already hung low between their legs. "Oh," the lad replied
without thinking twice, "Jeb showed us how to get into a rhythm that
minimizes the problem."  He grinned and added that there were some problems
"until you got used to it".  After that incident, Matt sometimes joined
them in the pool.  Still relatively young, well-built, and entirely willing
to join in their "fun and games," this only added to everyone's enjoyment.

(Fourteen Candles)

Jamie's fourteenth birthday in early May was in many ways the culmination
of a year that had seen many changes, most of which the youngster had
surmounted with great success.  As of that date, he appeared to be a happy
young man right on track developmentally.  In reality, clouds were
appearing on the horizon.  The storms they heralded would not long be
delayed.

Dylan's mother had invited her son's friend to hold his main party at their
house.  Afterwards, Jamie was invited to spend the night. The large home
that included an Olympic-size indoor pool would allow Jamie to invite more
of his friends.  By now, the redhead had many.  Unfortunately, at the very
last moment - well after most of the food and snacks had been laid out -
Dylan's grandmother suffered a heart attack.  When the medics advised
airlifting her to a hospital in Baltimore, Mrs. Smith decided she had to go
with her.  Thoroughly undone, she neglected to cancel the party or even ask
another parent to chaperone it.  As has been mentioned, these were good
kids and it was unlikely that they would tear the place down.
Nevertheless, in the main they were also thirteen and fourteen year olds.
Their inexperience would have consequences.

As a group of twenty-five young males arrived, Dylan and Jamie pointed them
towards the pool.  Jamie and his best friend were necessarily the last to
make their way down to the ground level of the mansion.  When they arrived,
they found that one decision had been made for them.  Namely, the
invitation to bring swimming suits had been discarded, and the boys were
splashing around in the nude.  The two friends looked at each other,
shrugged, and made their way over to a bench where they stripped.  Dylan
was ready first and dove into the water.  As Jamie paused on the edge of
the pool, Clive Jackson, one of the star athletes in the class and the
school's football captain, yelled out, "Hey, Jamie, what in hell have you
been doing in the gym?  You look great, dawg!  Man, you've GOT to come out
for football this fall!"  For a few moments, Jamie stood as if frozen on
the pool's edge.  His blushes did not conceal the fact that he had indeed
made some serious changes in his body.  Simply put, he was getting BIG -
arms, shoulders, torso, thighs...and other parts, as well.  More, his
constant work under Jeb's direction had tightened up much of the added
bulk.  Most of the lads also envied the rich crop of hair that he had
developed in his arm pits, around his genitals, and on his calves.  (He
even had a smattering of red hair between his clearly defined pecs.)  Two
of the guys crept up behind him and, to the raucous cheers of his
classmates, threw him into the water!  A birthday party to remember was
underway!

After an hour's swimming - and one rough water polo game - the boys
suddenly realized that they were ravenously hungry.  By then the word had
gotten around that no one was home.  Without any discussion or direction,
they dried off and slowly drifted upstairs to the dining room.  Few donned
swim suits or briefs - and several of those that did threw them aside when
they saw that the alpha males, including Jamie and Dylan, remained in the
nude.  Gasps escaped their throats when they saw the almost endless goodies
that covered the table and side pieces.  It was a good thing that Dylan and
his mother had laid out extra food and drinks in the kitchen before she had
had to leave so suddenly, for twenty-seven ravenous teens quickly laid
waste to the initial supply!  While the attack was underway, a few of the
boys quietly wandered through the first floor rooms.  Fortunately, they all
appeared to be well housebroken and did no damage.  Three of the lads
wandered into Mr. Smith's study and couldn't resist turning on the
magnificent 71" plasma TV.  In itself, that would have caused no problems.
Unfortunately, Clive Jackson opened a cabinet and discovered Mr. Smith's
extensive liquor supply.  For a good half hour, Clive and the other two
lads sat on the thick carpet, their backs resting against furniture, as
they watched an old Bruce Lee action flick and swigged bourbon.  When
shouts told them to return to the dining room for Jamie's birthday cake and
presents, they reluctantly closed things up and headed back...their steps
just a bit unsteady.

Jamie's face was one great smile as Dylan carried in a great silver bowl of
ice cream followed by an enormous sheet cake on which fourteen candles
flickered.  Perhaps the guys' boisterous rendition of the birthday song
left something to be desired, but you could never have proved it by Jamie!
In like measure, the small presents - CDs and occasional books, articles of
clothing, and toiletries from good shops at the Mall outside town - pleased
him no end.  For some time, they stood around the table, totally consuming
the cake and several refills of ice cream.  Needless to say, every one of
Jamie's friends made a special point of wishing him a happy birthday.
Clive, for instance, the undisputed leader of the eighth grade boys, came
up, pounded Jamie on the upper arm, and again said that he just had to come
out for football.  "Besides," he said, slurring his words slightly and
excitedly jabbing a finger into Jamie's muscles, "the girls have already
noticed you and you're going to need some friends to help fight them off!
Look at you!  If I had those guns and those legs, I'd go out for the
COLLEGE team!  Man, together, we could clean up on the high school teams
around here!"  Although slightly embarrassed, Jamie had no real desire for
Clive and his running back buddy Pete Sandstrom to stay their torrent of
praise...or their wandering hands.  In fact, with Clive's hand roughly
rubbing Jamie's prominent shoulder muscles and Pete's seeming inability to
keep his fingers off his powerful buttocks, Jamie flung his arms around his
friends' heavy shoulders, exclaiming, "Oh, man, you guys are the greatest!"

Dylan noticed that everyone seemed to be getting a little TOO excited and
suggested that they might head over to his parents' home theater.  He had
set up a baseball film that had premiered to great ballyhoo in New York
City only last week.  (His father had secured a pirated copy for him in
Washington.)  Scarcely believing that he was watching a film that EVERYONE
at school was talking about, Jamie sat between Dylan's legs.  Several
times, on request, Dylan massaged his friend's shoulder muscles.  Once
Jamie lowered his hands onto Dylan's thighs, allowing his fingers to
explore his friend's heavy quads. The boys had a super hour and a half, but
when the film finally came to an end, people were tired and ready to head
off.  Without exception, it had been the greatest birthday party that Jamie
had ever experienced.  The vibrantly handsome redhead was still walking on
air!

The two boys did manage to quickly pick up, placing most of the dishes and
silverware into two large dishwashers.  The small amount of food that
remained went into the fridge.  They then sat down in the study to play
some cards, but there was simply no way that Jamie could sit still.  "Come
on, bud," he begged with a wide grin. "Let's grab a shower and hit the
sack!"  Dylan had mixed feelings about that shower.  On the one hand, he
had put a tremendous amount of effort into the birthday party and was
absolutely delighted that Jamie had obviously enjoyed it so.  On the other,
his friend had his hands all over him...in ways that he had never had
before...and it made him uncomfortable.  He finally chalked it up to how
pleased his pal was with his efforts and shrugged it off.  It was far more
difficult, however, to ignore when they dried off and jumped into bed.
Jamie was still stoked.  The redheaded one finally asked if he could give
Dylan a good massage.  Actually, Dylan just wanted to go to sleep...and as
quickly as possible...but friends are friends and he finally went along
with it. With Dylan on his stomach, Jamie sat on his upper thighs and did
indeed give him a superb massage.  When Jamie told him to turn off,
however, he paused.  "Jamie, I've got some problems," he moaned.  "No
problem, bud," Jamie responded immediately.  "Both of us have them.  We've
seen each other in the shower, and we've slept together before on
overnights.  Not to worry..."  Hoping that his reluctance would be enough
to give his friend the message, Dylan turned over slowly.  Sure enough, he
had a massive hard-on.  When the redhead ignored it and began to manipulate
his shoulders that were rock hard with stress, he thought for a moment that
everything might be ok.  Not so.  As Jamie moved down to his lower stomach,
his purpose became increasingly clear.  Dylan could scarcely believe it.
When his friend's fingers latched onto his precum-slicked cock, he could go
no further.  Sitting up abruptly, he pushed Jamie's hands aside and said
breathlessly, "Jamie, we're best friends, but I don't want that.  I know
you're excited, but that doesn't matter.  I'm not Clive; I'm me!  Let's
turn over and go to sleep.  Everything will be ok in the morning."  Pushing
Jamie off his body, he turned over and faced the wall.  His trembling body
now nearly as wet as when he had come out of the shower, he just hoped that
everything WOULD be ok in the morning.  He had no problems with having said
something, though he did wish to hell that he hadn't mentioned Clive.

Mrs. Smith woke them up around nine the next morning and said that
breakfast would be ready in twenty minutes.  There was some tension in the
air, but both boys hoped that it could be made to go away.  "Hey, bud,"
Jamie finally said as they put themselves together in front of the bathroom
mirror, "I'm really sorry about last night.  I don't know what came over
me.  It just happened.  Forgive?"  "Yeah, sure, buttfink," Dylan play-
snarled.  "Just get your sorry ass together and let's go get some
breakfast!"  Grinning widely, each boy delivered a solid punch to the
other's upper arm, turned, and tried to escape retribution as they raced
for the kitchen.  From the minute that they thundered down the staircase,
Mrs. Smith felt that something was a little "off," but she had her own
worries.  After breakfast, she drove Jamie home, wishing him a happy
birthday as he opened the car door, grinned in thanks, and headed up the
walkway.

(The Rising Storm)

When the boys next saw each other at school on Monday, the atmosphere was
still a little strained.  On the other hand, neither boy wanted to break up
a great friendship and tried as hard as he could - perhaps a little too
hard - to behave as if nothing were wrong.  Dylan aside, Jamie's guts were
in an uproar.  Emotionally, he couldn't concentrate on a thing in any of
his classes.  Physically, he was just as psyched as he had been on Saturday
night at the party, and it was tearing him apart.  Intellectually, he knew
that something major had happened, but for the life of him he couldn't
figure out what it was.

It was nearly 5:30 when Matt returned home from the college that Monday
evening.  As usual, he gave a yell up the staircase, enquiring whether
Jamie were home...and hungry.  Hearing a tone in his son's reply that said
that something was wrong, he headed up the stairs even before hitting the
john.  Pushing the partially open door aside, he walked in, immediately
noticing that his redhead was sitting despondently in his computer
chair...completely naked.  He had been watching something, but had turned
it off only seconds before.  Having gradually become attuned to the moods
of the adolescent male, he sat down on the bed and simply waited.  Jamie
said nothing.  Indeed, though viewed from the rear as he hunched down in
the chair, it appeared that he might be softly sobbing.  Quietly, he said,
"Love yuh, Big Stuff.  Can I help?"  Slowly, the boy straightened up in the
chair and then stood and faced him.  Suddenly, he burst into tears and
threw himself into his dad's arms.  For a few minutes, they just sat there
on the bed as Matt rocked about 140 lbs of loudly sobbing redhead in his
arms.  Eventually, Matt lowered his head, crooning soft, soothing words
into the boy's ears and lightly kissing his thickening neck and shoulders.
Matt gasped as the youth's cock - longer, thicker, and harder than he had
ever seen it before - abruptly erected.  Within seconds, the pulsing column
reddened and began to leak precum.  Holy shit!  What was he supposed to do?
The Parents' Handbook sure as hell said nothing about this!  Under the
circumstances, Matt tried to laugh it off.  Taking the cock into his hand,
he chortled, saying, "Ha!  You better watch out for this thing, Big Red.
In many states, you would have to report to the police station and declare
it as a 'deadly weapon'!"  That evidently served as well as anything else
he might have said or done.  In any case, Jamie laughed through his tears,
reached up and kissed his dad on the cheek, and whispered, "Sorry, dad.
Just one of those days."  Matt again laughed, saying, "Welcome to
adulthood, son.  It ain't always easy."  "I'm hungry!" the redhead
interrupted.  "That's par for the course, Jamie," his dad answered in a
joking tone of voice.  "Let me up and I'll go down and see if what I put in
the crock-pot this morning is edible."  As Matt neared the door, Jamie,
lying on the bed, called out, "Dad, do I have to dress before coming
downstairs?  I feel shitty."  Now wondering even more what was going on,
Matt replied casually, "No, of course not, son.  Give me twenty minutes?"

Although the boy was still shaken - and naked - he did make it down to
supper.  Strangely enough, for nothing like it had happened for months,
Jamie obviously didn't want to get six inches away from him during the
entire evening.  As Matt placed his coffee on a side table in his study and
settled into his comfortable old chair, for example, Jamie sat down on the
heavy, overstuffed arm.  Bashfully, he asked his dad to "scratch his back"
- as well as several other variations on that same request.  When Matt ran
out of hand strength, the boy simply toppled over onto him, clearly
desiring to be held.  During the course of the evening, Jamie had two more
spectacular erections, but seemed to have no problem when Matt ignored
them.  Quiet and somewhat withdrawn, Jamie seemed to recover a bit during
the remainder of the week.  Under the surface, however, Matt believed that
he remained seriously upset.

After Jeb and the redhead had finished up in the pool, worked out, and
enjoyed a fine meal, Matt queried him as they drove back to Annapolis.
"Yeah, Jamie's upset, sir," Jeb had replied.  "I noticed it all day,
especially when we got out of the pool.  He said that he was tired and
wondered if we could take a brief rest on the pool float before beginning
our workout.  Believe me, sir, he felt me up.  Further, that was no log
that was poking into my rear end as we lay down."  "I do believe you, Jeb,
and am really sorry," Matt replied.  "It was no big deal, sir, though what
has to happen next week is going to make it worse."  "So?" Matt grunted.
"Yeah," Jeb said.  "The reason that I told Jamie that I could only take him
on for a school year program is that plebes face a busy summer.  I'm still
not sure about what kind of leave I'll have, for it all depends on when
I'll be at sea.  I've got to remind him of that agreement next week - and,
for a lot of reasons, I don't think he's going to take it all that well.
To tell the truth, I'm going to miss coming across the bridge myself.  I
sure hope we can maintain contact next year!

"If I may make a suggestion, sir, I think Jamie is ready for some serious
physical development work, a program supervised by a professional who has
access to all sorts of equipment.  And I think it would soften the blow of
our work ending.  Will you let me know what you decide before I speak with
Jamie next Saturday?  Even though I don't know this side of the Bay all
that well, you know I'll do anything I can to help."

"I know that, Jeb, and I'll always be grateful for what you've contributed
my boy's growth.  Believe that there's no question about next year.  Let me
think about it and check out possibilities with several of my colleagues at
work.  It's just as well, Jeb.  I've had to agree to assume the
chairperson's tasks for one year - and my book is at that point where I
really have to spend some serious time and energy.  It's a bad time for
something to be going down in Jamie's life, especially if it's something
sexual that we need to monitor.  If we don't make some alternate
arrangements, the fact that you're temporarily out of the picture and my
time will be severely restricted could have some really bad effects."


(To Be Continued)