Date: Sun, 03 Feb 2008 00:17:29 -0500
From: carl_mason@verizon.net
Subject: JAMIE WRESTON - 9

JAMIE WRESTON - 9


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@verizon.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 9

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please note that my e-mail address for comments, questions,
etc.  has changed.  The correct address is: carl_mason@verizon.net )

(Revisiting Chapter 8)

The boy returned home from the clinic, again to loving support at home.
Although he appeared to be in better shape, he absolutely refused to return
to school.  Refusing to do much of anything other than loll around (and, on
one occasion, ride his bike down to the now-shuttered Bayside Fitness
Club), his mood became bleaker with each day.  Despite Matt's best efforts,
medication, and the beginning of therapy, he ran away at the beginning of a
vicious winter only a week and a half after returning home.  Neither a note
nor his whereabouts was discovered.

(Continuing Our Story: Survival)

Jamie arrived in Gotham's Port Authority Bus Terminal around nine o'clock
on a bitterly cold and snowy night.  Despite the weather, the Terminal was
jammed with people of every description.  Naturally, the redhead from the
West Coast knew of New York City, but little more.  For example, he had
seen little of the city on his trip to the American Museum of Natural
History.  The simple fact was that he had FLED from his home on the Bay and
had devoted but sketchy planning to the odyssey.  He had, for example,
damned little in his book bag that would help him survive some of the worst
winter weather in the last half century.  Further, he had no contacts in
any of the five boroughs - and very little money to get around if he had!
He did know that he wanted nothing to do with a goodly number of men, some
well dressed, whose eyes had followed him hungrily from the first moment
that he had entered the waiting room.  Several approached him, but he
quickly moved away.  In so doing, of course, he also missed a handful of
people, assisted by police, who were trying to guide the homeless,
children, and others seemingly without resources to shelters.  Without
protection, as well as a little warm food and drink in their bellies,
thousands were at risk, for this storm was potentially a killer.  Under
these conditions, normal Terminal security and child- protection practices
simply had to take a back seat to other humanitarian concerns.

Slipping out one of the large exits, Jaime immediately discovered how the
canyons of Manhattan - so impressive on a sunny day - acted as wind tunnels
that intensified the effects of snow, cold, and other weather.  As sturdy a
lad as he was, his body was sorely buffeted by the wind.  Although he had
worn his hiking shoes, he wondered how long the snow and cold would allow
him to place one foot after another.  After struggling for many long blocks
to the south - towards that which others had told him was "Gay Manhattan" -
he quickly became one of the few people on the sidewalks.  He wasn't even
sure that he was on the same street.  The boy was already beginning to
stumble; in fact, he had fallen once.  He was vaguely aware of a small,
dark-complected boy leaving his father's side in the lighted doorway of a
small bodega and gesturing for him to take shelter.  Neither the boy nor
his parents spoke more than a few words of English, but they pointed him
towards a blanket that lay in a corner of their little grocery store,
allowed him behind a bead-covered hanging and showed him where their
bathroom was, and brought him simple food.  The mother even stroked his
hair before letting him know it was time to sleep.  In the morning, after a
warm breakfast of unfamiliar food, he helped the father to shovel about
eleven inches of snow from the sidewalk before resuming his trek south.
Good people those...

By the time he reached the heart of Greenwich Village, he was both
exhausted...and somewhat disillusioned.  Gays were losers, but the people
down in this neighborhood were surely anything but.  Indeed, most of them
appeared to be well-to-do.  Unfortunately, few appeared to be gay!  Jamie
got a dishwashing job in a small sandwich shop that gave him a few coins
plus a sandwich, fries, and a Coke on each shift.  He kept it three days
before he had had enough of the entire scene!  A fellow dishwasher - who
was no more a New Yorker than he - suggested that the gays and the more
creative people had moved east...into the East Village.  He tromped all the
way to Tompkins Square Park, but that area was also changing.  As they sat
on a snowy bench in the Park, a second young man - handsome, curly black
hair, well built, perhaps nineteen or twenty - said that the whole area was
being "gentrified", i.e., rebuilt (or at least reconditioned) for the
well-to-do.  Over a few decades, the entire southern end of Manhattan had
become prohibitively expensive.  In the main the gays and the artists who
lived on their work had moved to Brooklyn and other outlying boroughs!

"Know of any jobs that are open?" Jamie asked.  "Maybe," the lad replied.
"I'm Andy Kunznev, by the way."  "Jamie Wreston," the redheaded one replied
with a grin and an outstretched hand.  "I'm not sure, however, that you
would want it, Jamie.  It's for a young gay guy."  "Well, I don't lisp and
if you play much tennis, your wrists can't be limp!  I'm still gay," Jamie
admitted hesitatingly.  With a theatrical flair - though obviously hamming
it up - Andy threw his arm around the redhead's shoulders and lisped,
"Welcome to the company, Dah-ling!"  A little unsure of himself, Jamie
laughed nervously and asked, "You mentioned a job, Andy?"

"Yeah, Red," Andy said.  "I work for Dr. Cedric Foster.  While we live in a
beautiful old brownstone near Sheridan Park in the real Village, he's over
here today, visiting an old friend who's ill.  Most of the time, my job is
pretty straightforward...I'm his driver and his chief gofer!  He's very
old.  If he gets sick, I also take care of him.  When he's well, he enjoys
me as eye candy - and, on rare occasion, for sex.  Clothing is NOT optional
- it's verboten [German: fair-BOAT-in; forbidden]!"  Andy cast a somewhat
lewd grin in Jamie's direction.  "When he goes to his club that includes
nearly 50 of the oldest, richest gays remaining in the Village, he's been
known to take me along...on my leash.  Says the old farts need to see
something really beautiful now and then so their balls won't shrivel up!
I'm well paid and never abused.  He's gotten pretty shaky and wants to hire
a second 'assistant' who will work under me.  A joke, yeah?" he asked with
a leer.  (Pause.)  "Have I managed to turn you off by now, you exquisite
redhead?"  "Nope," replied Jamie.  Tongue in cheek, he added, "How do I try
out for the position...  under you, of course?"

Suddenly, Andy's cell phone rang.  "Yes, sir...Yes, sir...Right away, sir!"
"So..." he said, turning to Jamie.  You're about to meet Dr. F.  He's ready
to go, but there's no way I'm going to let him mush through this heavy
snow."  Reaching a house on the other side of the square, Andy opened the
garage.  Jamie's eyes were out on a stick.  It had to be the most gorgeous
Packard touring car he had ever seen, probably from the mid 1930s.  "Wow!"
he drooled.  "Stay here while I go get the boss," Andy directed.  A few
minutes later, Andy reappeared with distinguished albeit frail looking,
white-haired gentleman in a dark, custom-tailored, fur-trimmed topcoat with
a matching fur hat.  "Andrew tells me that you might consider working with
us," the ancient one said pleasantly.  "Is that true?"  "Yes, sir," Jamie
answered courteously.  "From what he told me, it's a great opportunity."
"Well, Andrew never lies," the doctor murmured.  "Come along home with us
and we shall see what's possible."

Jamie gulped as he stood in front of the magnificent old brownstone.  He
just about lost it when he entered the dwelling.  He felt that he was back
in the late 1920s.  At least he recognized a few pieces the twins of which
he had seen in a museum back in Portland.  The heavy, richly colored
drapes, the ornate furniture, the polished wood that gleamed in the light
of some of the most fantastic lamps he had ever seen were unbelievable.  If
he remembered correctly from reading, several of them looked like original
Tiffanies.  Dr. Foster asked Andy to help him upstairs so that he might
take a nap.  Turning to the redhead, he said, "Andy will get you ready for
your dinner duties, Jamie.  You're a fine looking young man.  I hope we all
decide that you should be added to my staff."  With that he was gone.

After getting Dr. F situated, Andy guided Jamie to his room where he sat on
the chair at his desk.  "Ok, Red.  Kindly strip.  Let's see what condition
you're in."  He seemed slightly surprised that the boy began to remove his
clothes without the slightest hesitation, folding them and placing them on
the end of the bed.  "Whew!" he whistled when he had finished.  "Man, oh
man, Wreston, you are built!  Would it be possible for me to check your
body out?"  "Sure, Andy," Jamie replied casually, whereupon Andy began to
closely inspect every inch of the redhead's body.  Little was left
untouched!  "Magnificent..." he breathed after finishing and straightening
up.  Both young men were obviously swollen.  He continued, "Your body needs
shaving.  So does mine.  Would you object to taking care of it before
supper...that's at seven?"  "No, of course not, Andy," Jamie responded.  "I
can take care of some of it, but not all.  Might I have your help?"  "My
pleasure," Andy retorted with a grin.  "Let's go into my bathroom."

In due course, the two young men returned to Andy's bedroom, their
perfectly smooth, muscular bodies gleaming from the lightest rubdown with
oil.  "That was great, Jamie!"  Andy enthused.  Sitting on the corner of
his desk, he continued, "I'm a little embarrassed, Red," he murmured.  "I
don't make a habit of taking advantage of people, and I think that you
definitely want to work here.  So you're under pressure to show off well.
My problem is that I've wanted you since the very minute I spotted you in
Tompkins Square."  Jamie interrupted with a soft smile, saying, "Would you
be so embarrassed, Andy, if you knew I wanted you as much as you say you
wanted me?"  Andy kissed the redhead lightly on the side of his face and
gathered him into his arms.

Within seconds, both of the glorious young bodies were intertwined and
writhing on the bed.  Wild minutes passed.  Kissing, tonguing, heavily
erected, it seemed that they were coming to the end of their self-control.
Jamie felt himself flipped over as Andy's tongue reached for his portal.
"For heaven's sake, Red!" the curly-haired one cried with horror.  "What
kind of machete-wielding madman got hold of you back here?"  "Four real bad
dudes, Andy.  They sent me to the hospital in rough shape.  I'm pretty well
healed now, friend.  Just take it a little easy."  "I already know that
you're MY friend, Red," Andy replied.  "My answer as YOUR friend is
'absolutely not' - not until you're fully healed...not one minute before.
How about your giving me a ride?  Believe me, I love it, especially when a
guy's got a schlong like yours!"  "You're sure?" the redhead asked
doubtfully.  "Believe it!" Andy purred and then worked his tongue deep into
his new partner's mouth.  After the redheaded one had lubed them both and
smoothly slid deep into him, it only took Andy a very short time to realize
he had indeed found a strong, gifted new friend - and on a bench in the
East Village at that!

After they had enjoyed a fantastic meal in the kitchen, Andy and Jamie
served the good doctor who enjoyed a somewhat fancier presentation of the
same menu in the enormous old dining room in candlelight.  At one point,
Andy signaled Jamie who quietly slipped under the linen tablecloth that
covered the massive old mahogany table replete with crystal, silver
tableware, and the finest china.  When he reappeared, his boss allowed
himself to resume breathing.  "Well done, Jamie," the white-haired man
sighed.  Then he stage-whispered, "Please never tell Georges out in the
kitchen that I preferred that to his excellent Beef Bourguignonne!"  "I
heard that, you beast!" an effeminate voice screeched from immediately
behind the kitchen door.  Everyone laughed until Dr. F held up his hand and
thanked the boys for their excellent service.  I'll have my coffee in the
library, Andrew," he said, rising from the table.  "Oh, yes, Jamie, I said
earlier that you're a fine looking young man.  In the interests of honesty,
I must amend that statement.  You are nothing short of spectacular!  You do
realize that Andrew and I would chain you if necessary to keep you from
walking out the front door?  More seriously, I hope that you will consider
yourself part of the family from this minute forth."  The redhead smiled
with deep pleasure, bowed slightly, and replied softly, "Thank you, sir."
In truth, he believed that he'd found an oasis for his soul.

The remainder of the evening passed pleasantly.  The youngsters had
forgotten long ago that they remained in the nude.  As the master enjoyed
his coffee, there was good music and literate conversation.  He offered his
new boy that which he assured him was a splendid room.  Surprised when the
boy hesitated, his raised eyebrows asked for his reasons.  "Sir," Jamie
began speaking. "I've always loathed sleeping alone.  Would you permit me
to occasionally cuddle with you and occasionally with Andy.  While I shall
naturally follow your wishes, this would make me very happy."  Seeing the
mischievous twinkle in the redhead's eyes - and the smile on Andy's face
that almost split it in two - he said wryly, "Permit us to make you happy,
my boy."  He finally asked Jamie to turn the audio equipment off, saying,
"Before I go upstairs, would you two beautiful young men do one more thing
for a decrepit old man?  Move a few chairs and that one table and wrestle
for me.  No holds barred!"  After a brisk exhibition, the old man rose to
make his way upstairs on Andy's arm.  As he turned, he softly kissed Jamie
on the cheek.  "What a treasure you are," he murmured before leaving the
library.

When Andy returned, he grinned, saying that for all intents and purposes
the house was theirs until they had to awaken the master.  "We can enjoy
music or watch TV here or in 'our' bedroom as long as we keep the volume
down.  We can eat or drink anything in the kitchen", he continued.  "Though
Georges has a room, he has his own circle of friends and is rarely seen in
the house outside of the kitchen.  Oh, yes," he added, handing Jamie an
envelope.  "Today was our regular weekly payday.  Fearing that you might
not have much left in your wallet, the master asked me to give you this
check this evening.  There will, of course, be periodic salary increases.
I recommend securing your funds at a reasonably pleasant little bank just
around the corner."  Later, the redhead was able to look at the check.
Needless to say, he just about dropped his teeth when he saw that it was
made out for seven hundred dollars!  It seemed to be a vast sum to him,
though, of course, it wasn't.  "Anything else?  Oh, yeah.  The master will
be going to his club on Friday night.  It's a little demeaning, but it
doesn't last forever and no one gets hurt.  What's your pleasure, Red?"
"Forgive me friend," Jamie replied, "but I am absolutely bushed.  Would you
mind if we hit the sack pretty soon?"  Standing in the middle of the
library, Andy simply wrapped the boy in his arms.  As their naked bodies
swayed slightly to and fro, they kissed deeply.

It wasn't long before Andy began preparing Jamie for his role on Friday
night at Dr. F's club.  He was shaved anew, oiled, and thoroughly
lubricated.  "Hey, Andy, why the lube?  I'm not going to have to let
someone fuck me, am I?"  "Nope," Andy replied with a reassuring grin, but
you might take a finger.  There's no reason why one of the Doc's friends
should find it covered with shit - and even less why you should experience
any pain.  Ok?"  "Yeah, Andy, I guess," the redhead mumbled doubtfully.

For the first time, Jamie found himself fitted with a steel slave collar.
He was also fitted with a thick stainless steel cinch band that snapped
around the root of both his outsized cock and balls, forcing them up and
away from the body at all times.  The band was sufficiently wide (slightly
more than 1.5") that he looked as if he were permanently erect as his cock
and balls thrust out provocatively in front of him.  In fact, he was always
partially erect due to a slight restriction of his blood flow.  When that
Big Boy fully erected, of course, the results were...memorable.  A ring
attached to the cinch band allowed a leash to be connected to his body.

The doctor's entry into the staid old Club room was everything he had hoped
it would be.  A few of his colleagues had also brought "slaves" - and
several of the youngsters weren't half bad - but NOTHING remotely compared
with his pair.  Holding his twin leashes on high, he swept regally to his
table that stood well into the room to the general applause (and not a few
gasps) of his longtime friends and associates.  They might not represent
the power in today's Village, but these old queens could damned well put on
a show when it was called for!  Several of his oldest friends began calling
for a boy to come over so they could "see" him.  Andy was reluctant to get
involved, but the irrepressible redhead begged the good doctor to let him
take part.  Finally, with the gestures of an accomplished impresario, the
Master unsnapped his leash and sent the boy to a nearby table.  Silence
swept over the room as everyone craned their necks to get a better view!
Standing in front of the oldest men in the room, the redhead bowed slightly
and then gave a golden smile that melted the onlookers for tables around!
"Dr.  Foster sends you his love, Mr. Levy and thanks you for your courtesy
to his unworthy slave," the boy said loudly and with great emotion.  The
room rocked with applause at the respect shown the great man.  Tears came
to the red-rimmed eyes of the patriarch.  His hands reached out for Jamie's
and brought him closer.  Wrinkled...heavily spotted...  shaking, they
stroked the stunning buttocks of the youngster.  Whispering in the boy's
ear brought enthusiastic, positive nods that sent dark red locks bouncing.
Reverently, the patriarch reached down and fondled the genitals that Jamie
thrust into his hand.  Many in the hall were able to see that they
immediately erected in a eye-popping display, whereupon the old man and the
boy kissed.  Preceded by his noble genitalia, the redheaded one returned to
his master's table to the wild applause of the company.  Cheers broke out
as Dr. Foster kissed him on the cheek and reattached his leash as he took
his seat at his master's feet.

Clearly, it was one of the greatest tours de force of the season - and both
young men received extra money in that week's envelopes.  Even Andy thanked
Jamie fervently for the great pleasure that he had brought their master.
Over the months, the red-headed one came to realize that the relationship
he enjoyed with Andy and Dr. F was quite different from the dog-eat-dog
competition that ruled the world about them.  For instance, as Christmas
approached, Jamie initially felt quite guilty when he had to tell Dr. F
that he just couldn't accept his request to "stay overnight" with a
depressed old friend.  (Nothing was ever said.  Andy simply went in his
place.)  In truth, he felt even more guilty when he came downstairs on
Christmas morning and found a collection of presents for him that stretched
credulity.  All things equal out.  After they had opened presents and had
breakfast, he simply sat with the old man in his great chair in the
library.  As Christmas music and sounds of the cheerful fire filled the
beautiful old room, the old man lovingly ran a hand over his body which he
said was more beautiful than the finest stained glass windows at the
cathedral.  There was more of that when he returned to a vigorous exercise
program, beginning in January.  When he had completed a session, the boss
liked nothing better than to having him sit on an ottoman by his chair
where he could stroke his sweaty, pumped muscles.  Jamie rather enjoyed
that, too, in that it "fired him up" for the shower that followed!

Actually, the good doctor provided many things that "fired him up."  For
instance, he had permission to access a superb (and very expensive)
collection of 'Net porn.  One site was a particular favorite, the
"Collector's Corner".  The only photos he found that were disturbing were
of him!  Given Craig Bristol's promise that the photos he took were for
their use only in designing more effective exercise programs, Craig has his
full permission for photography.  In the "Collector's Corner," however, he
found graphic nudes taken on the Smith estate during some particularly warm
Indian Summer days, as well as several taken indoors during the November
period when he lived in the Wrestons' home.  Jamie did get a few laughs
when he read collector comments.  Beyond high praise for him, there were
all sorts of requests for more pics, personal information, and the like.
Unfortunately, the webmaster had to tell the authors that he had been
unable to contact the photographer.  Ha!  Jamie wished he could tell them
why!

One other event that he remembered with great pleasure was Valentine's Day
in February.  As usual, Dr. F would be going out with friends who would
pick him up and bring him home.  As they gently helped each other
thoroughly to prepare their bodies, Andy told him, somewhat bashfully, that
his "Valentine" would come not in the form of a card.  Rather, it would
come as a special, early evening dinner created by Georges followed by that
which he called an "after dinner mint"!  'If the after dinner mint were as
good as the dinner,' Jamie thought, 'it would be quite an evening!'  Truly,
the food would have received five stars in Paris.  Jamie didn't quite know
what Paris would have made of Georges in full drag, looking like a vamp of
the 1920s - perhaps something like a cross between Theda Bara and Clara Bow
(for fans of the silent movies).

After enjoying coffee in the library, Andy turned to Jamie and invited him
to join him in a "special room" of the mansion.  His "after dinner mint"
was the opportunity to enjoy a form of sex that Jamie had said at one point
he had never experienced.  He had added that he would like to try
"handball" (also known as "fisting"), but only if he found a sufficiently
experienced guide.  Even though it was one of his favorite sexual
variations, Andy had said little at the time.  He simply vowed that when
the time was right...

In his excitement, Jamie was already noticeably swollen as they approached
a dark wooden door on the third floor of the old brownstone.  After he had
unlocked the door, Andy quietly turned and passionately kissed the stunning
redhead.  "This is just for you, my love," he murmured.  "Enter my world."
With that he opened the door and ushered Jamie into the most beautiful room
he had ever seen.  The covering on the walls appeared to be of rich silk in
a design that conveyed the impression that the onlooker was in the midst of
a deep forest.  The heavy drapes picked up one of the darker shades of
green among the various greens, and a few browns, in which the silk design
had been executed.  In the fireplace that looked to be mid nineteenth
century, a small fire burned, bathing the room in magical, flickering
light.  On the dark, original planks of the heavily polished floor rested a
pad, perhaps the length, width, and thickness of a large mattress.  Covered
in what had to be black leather, Jamie would learn shortly that it provided
a firm, but extremely comfortable platform for the bare flesh that rested
on it.  Though he couldn't locate the source, his nostrils reveled in the
faint scent of pine; his ears, in the soft notes of an unforgettable
melody.

For a few minutes, the two young men danced together in the quiet forest.
Ever after, Jamie said that it was as if he were meeting Andy for the first
time as the beautiful, dark-haired lad held him in his arms and softly
kissed him along the breadth of his shoulders.  "Could anything have been
more perfect for Valentine's Day?" the redheaded one would ask.  Needless
to say, it wasn't long before their bodies were beginning to show a sheen
of perspiration in the flickering light, and their breath was coming a bit
harder as their tongues dueled and steely swords pressed into aroused
flesh.  Caught up in the moment, Jamie found himself lying on the black
platform, Andy's lips lightly sucking on his thick athlete's neck.  As the
fires within his partner grew, the curly-haired one moved his lips to
Jamie's muscular thighs.  Perhaps in mercy, he finally pressed them back
against lad's chest as he grinned down into his blue eyes and ran a playful
finger up the bottom side of his rock-hard cock.  Jamie almost came as he
felt those lips and that skilled tongue begin to lay siege to his portal.
It was no contest.  As he opened up like a cherry blossom in the warmth of
a spring sun, he began to hear his voice pleading for Andy to take him.
The beautiful twenty year old simply sat there smiling gently, a lubricated
finger playing with the lips of his gaping anus.

"From now on, Red, I want you to really work at breathing slowly and
deeply," Andy said at length in a perfectly calm, loving voice.  "I'm going
to go as far as you enjoy going, but not one step further.  Stay in touch
with me, telling me what feels good, bad, and indifferent.  It's an
interactive Valentine, dawg...not one person doing something to another.
Relax and enjoy the ride, ok?"  "Yeah, Andy," Jamie managed to gasp.  "Ok,
Red," he continued, "I want you to turn over, get up on your knees with
your butt well up into the air.  Bury your head in your forearms down on
the pad.  Move around until you get comfortable.  If it helps, there's a
small pillow just above your right hand.  Yeah.  (Pause.)  Now, love,
slow...deep...even.  Thata boy..."  Looking through his slightly separated
thighs, Jamie could see Andy lubricating one of his rather smallish hands
with a thick, white paste.  "Crisco?" he asked, remembering what someone
had told him at a coffee shop.  "Nope," Andy answered.  "My own concoction.
It'll come out of your body real easy after we're done."  With that, bent
down and ran the tip of his tongue around the lips of Jamie's open portal,
sending a shudder through his body.  Seeing how well things were going, he
began with two heavily lubricated fingers...which the redhead's ass sucked
up on the spot and rather begged for more.  "Feel good?" he asked, as he
slowly opened his friend up.  "Oh, yeah...real good..." Jamie sighed.
After a minute or two, he relubed his hand...and moved to three fingers.
The results were the same.  Jamie was relaxed and breathing well.  Again,
he withdrew, this time fashioning the four fingers of his hand into a cone
with his thumb tucked in underneath and heavily lubricating everything
beyond his wrist up onto his lower arm.  Still more was worked into the
redhead's anal canal.  "Slow...deep...even, buddy," he breathed as he began
to insert his full hand for the first time.

"Oh-h-h..." Jamie moaned.  "Hold for a sec, love."  "Done!" Andy exclaimed
in an incisive tone of voice.  "How ya doin' down there?"  "Doin' fine,
love...just tryin' to get used to that A-train you're trying to shove up my
rear end.  Keep goin'."  "Once more into the breach," the curly-haired one
mumbled under his breath as he added more lube.  Twisting slightly, first
one way and then the other while maintaining pressure, the cone slowly
worked its way through the first sphincter muscle.  As he felt the
sphincter beginning to slide over his knuckles, he gave a slight push and
he was in!  "Oh, Gawd!"  Jamie yelled.  "Wow!"  Andy tried to hold his hand
as steady as possible as little waves of electricity seemed to ripple
through the redhead's lower body.  Noticing that he was panting and shaking
his head, Andy reached down with his free hand to find the boy's cock hot,
wet, and pulsing.  "Talk to me, Red!" he demanded.  "And keep that
breathing slow...deep...and even!"  "Oh, Andy..." the youngster murmured.
"That was...really something!  I thought my head was going to blow off!  I
almost came!  Whew!"  After a couple of minutes, Andy said, "Good going,
Jamie.  Want me to get out now - or do you want to go a little further?
It's your first time, you know."  "Yeah, I know," Jamie replied, "but let's
go a little further, ok?"  Andy immediately said, "Don't treat this like a
soccer match where you've got to score for the glory of Old Nassau, friend.
I'll go along with you, but you've gotta promise that you'll tell me the
minute you've had enough."  "Will do, Andy," the redhead promised
immediately.

Adding lube, concentrating on breathing and minimal movement, Andy
soldiered on, slowing working his way along the curved walls of the rectum,
gradually pushing through Jamie's heavy abdominal muscles which pressed
upon his fingers with tremendous force.  Occasionally, he would pause,
opening his fingers slightly or tapping on his forearm with his free hand
which translated into vibrations that Jamie felt deep inside his guts.
Jamie felt his balls tighten as the pressures grew.  Suddenly, when an inch
or so of Andy's wrist had followed his hand into the beautiful muscled
butt, most of the inner pressure magically disappeared.  Jamie gulped,
screamed, and shook with a massive orgasm.  When he came back down to earth
following a few aftershocks, his first, panting words were, "Oh, man, Andy!
What in hell happened?"  "Well, you see, old chum, there are two sphincters
in there.  If you're new to handball, getting through the first one is
plenty exciting.  You just felt what often happens when you clear both of
them!  Good show, yes?"  "You bet...fantastic!" Jamie replied.  "It was a
SUPER Valentine, but I've had it for this time.  Get out of there, friend!"

Coaching the redheaded one to relax, breathe correctly and resist pushing,
Andy slowly allowed his hand to slide from the anal cavity.  Thankfully, he
knew enough to resist pulling, for he had seen some of the damage done by
an inexperienced top.  He had to admit that guiding Jamie through a new
experience - even cleaning up together and making sure that he was safe
afterwards - was a blast.  Jamie?  He was on high for several days,
especially when there was no way that Andy was about to have anal sex with
him for the first two or three!  "Rest that beautiful ass!" he growled.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Remember that "Jamie Wreston" is fiction and that it's
possible for 'most anything to look easier than it really is.  A lot of
damage can be done if those involved in fisting have little idea of what
they're doing.  Suggestion: If it's something you've got to try, begin by
having someone experienced work you through it...at least for a few times.)

After nearly five months of good sex, good people, and good money, i.e.,
some weeks before his 15th birthday on May 5th, the redhead noticed that
the boss was becoming quite feeble.  One night as they talked after Dr. F
had gone to bed, Jamie asked Andy where all this was going.  The older boy
was rather philosophical in his answer.  "Hey, Red, all lives and all jobs
have their rhythms.  At 89, the sands in the hour glass may be running out
for the boss.  We can't expect any windfall, for among this group of people
money and property are left to one's relatives and charity rather than to
employees.  Nevertheless, we're both still boyish, riding the crest
physically, and liked very much by his friends.  I dare say we'll be able
to secure new positions."  "What if it were a few years later and we
weren't in our prime physically?" Jamie asked.  "Well, Red, as I said,
people and jobs have their unique rhythms.  At some point, we just wouldn't
be able to get the kind of job we both enjoy...and we'd have to do
something else."  "Doesn't that strike you as something of a dead end?" the
redheaded one persisted.  "I'd always kinda wanted to be a doctor where
there was a future," he added.  Andy was blunt.  "That's not part of the
benefits of this position," he said firmly.  "I doubt that either of us
could ever make enough money to pay for an education even if we banked
every penny we earned - and who can do that?  Our capital is our bodies."
Jamie continued to mumble to himself: "I've heard so many stories about
these positions not working out - and I've seen a few situations myself.
It has to be rare where one of us feels he's a member of a family."
"That's right on target, Red," Andy said as he reached up and turned out
his reading light, "but in this life, a guy pays his money and takes his
choice.  No use crying when the choice doesn't work out.  Just learn from
it."

For a good hour, Jamie lay quietly next to Andy in the darkened bedroom.
Andy was right.  There wasn't any use crying when a choice didn't work out.
But how mature, how intelligent were the choices he was making?


(To Be Continued)