Date: Tue,  4 Nov 2003 08:16:02 -0800
From: rowdiezz@hushmail.com
Subject: Jeremy: A Rest Stop

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 rowdiezz@hushmail.com. Your privacy is guarantered.

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 110
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 wouold 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 lokced 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 (( 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 beint 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 acrouss 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.