Date: Mon, 5 Jul 1999 07:18:37 EDT
From: Justin0398@aol.com
Subject: Parking Lot Dividends (Adult/Youth)

The following story contains graphic sex scenes between a young man and a
young boy.  If material of this nature offends you then you should not read
this story.  Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states,
you are not allowed to read this story.

The events and characters portrayed in the story are entirely a work of
fiction.  However, many of the locations and places are real.

Finally, none of my characters practice safe sex because they catch only what
I want them to.  In real life, safe sex is the only way to go.  It is smart.

The author retains all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed without the consent of the author,
except by the web sites to which it has been posted.

Please send your constructive comments to Justin0398@aol.com


I hope you enjoy the story.

Parking Lot Dividends
Parts One and Two
by
Justin Davis

There was still much unpacking to do as Craig Davidson looked around his new
condo located in Austin's posh West Lake area.  He had said goodbye to the
movers, convinced that most of his things had arrived safely and content that
all of the things he was concerned about had been unloaded intact.

As Craig looked around the living room and downstairs area, a smile of
satisfaction came over his face. He had been lucky, he knew, in his stock
trading and investments, never mind that he had pushed it to the limit on
laws regulating insider trading.  Craig, with a little careful management,
was pretty well set for the future, not bad for a guy of 26 who had graduated
with a BBA degree from UT just four years earlier.

Craig had indeed been very lucky.  He had been lucky in school, lucky in
landing his job with the well-know national investments firm, and lucky, with
some questionable help, in his investments.  At 26 years old, with some
careful management, Craig really didn't have to worry about working again.
The high-tech stocks he had invested in had paid off big time.

Craig walked over to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out the only item it
contained at that moment, a bottle of champagne.

"I wonder which fucking box the glasses are in?" He said out loud to himself.

After a little rummaging around in a couple of boxes Craig finally found the
one that contained the wineglasses.   Craig unwrapped the tissue that was
protecting one of the glasses, set the glass on the counter, popped the cork
on the bottle of champagne, and poured some into the glass.  Craig picked up
the glass of champagne, walked over to the balcony window, and looked out at
the view below him. It was a breath taking view.

The waters of Lake Travis sparkled like a million diamonds in the afternoon
sun.  The wakes of the power boats and jet skis looked like white brush
strokes on a canvas of water.   A small group of sailboats, their
multi-colored spinnakers flying, raced each other toward some
indistinguishable finish line. In the distance, the rugged hills of Central
Texas provided a suitable frame for the real-life portrait Craig saw below.
The view was one of the reasons he had chosen this particular condo.  Craig
raised his glass of champagne.

"Craig my boy, you have made it at last.  Congratulations," he said as he
toasted himself.

Craig took a sip of the champagne and once again became lost in the view and
the moment.  His satisfaction with himself, as he looked back out upon the
lake, was well founded.    Whether or not it was the condo, the new Four
Runner, the new furniture, the new entertainment system, or his seven-figured
bank account, Craig now had all the material things he had ever wanted.  He
took another sip of champagne and savored the moment.
The ringing of his cell-phone jostled Craig back to reality.

"Yeah, this is Craig," he said as he answered the cell phone.

"Hey Craig, this is Matt. You get squared away in the new digs?"

Matt was probably the best friend Craig had in the whole world.  They had met
in their sophomore year at UT.  The two of them had lived together at Jester
Center before they scrounged up enough money from their part-time jobs to get
an apartment.  They had shared the apartment, occasionally the girls they
dated, and even sometimes each other, although any sex the two of them had
had with each other amounted to nothing more than jerking each other off on
occasion.  More importantly, for Matt, Craig had shared his investment
information.  Matt, too, had profited from Craig's information, although not
well enough yet to quit his job.

"Yeah sort of.  The movers just left and I have a ton of shit to unpack,"
Craig responded.

"Well why don't you get yourself cleaned up and meet me at the club
at seven.  My treat.  We can celebrate the new digs," Matt said eagerly.

Craig looked at his watch.  It was 5:30.

"Yeah, why not?  I really didn't want to tackle unpacking all this shit right
now anyway," Craig responded.

"Fine, see yah there buddy boy," Matt said as he hung up.

Craig hung up the cell phone, laid it back on the coffee table, and turned
one more time to savor the view. Then, he drained his glass of the last of
the champagne.  It would take him a half-hour to get to the country club
where he was supposed to meet Matt.  He had to get a move on.

Craig fumbled around through more boxes until he found the towels and things
he needed to take a shower.  Next time he would try out the whirlpool tub, he
thought to himself as the turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature of
the water, and began to peel off his clothes.


 Craig glanced at himself in the mirror once he was stripped.  The image he
saw of himself wasn't bad for some one 26 years old.  Craig's chest tapered
down to a 32-inch waist, offset by a respectable set of abs.  From his navel
down, a trail of light brown hair ended at his pubes.  As he turned to look
at himself more closely Craig's dick jostled a little.  When not erect,
Craig's penis hung down a good five inches over a rather healthy set of
balls.   Erect, Craig was just shy of eight inches. Some might call it the
perfect dick.  At least Matt had made that comment on one occasion.

Craig ran his hands over his chest and nipples. The feeling that that gave
him resulted in a corresponding twitch of his cock, which grew in size
immediately, along with a corresponding urge to pull himself off.  Those
feelings were relegated to a place far back in his mind, however.  There
wasn't enough time.  He had to meet Matt at seven.

Craig showered and dried himself off and slipped into his boxers, shirt, and
a pair of Dockers.  Those, and a pair of brown dress socks and a pair of Bass
loafers completed his attire. In pretty much of a hurry, he blow-dried his
hair, splashed on some cologne, and headed out to the Four Runner, realizing
he was already going to be late.

The drive to the north side of Austin took about as much time as Craig
figured it would and it was already past seven when he pulled into the
parking lot of the club.  Hurriedly, he parked the Four Runner and headed
inside toward the restaurant.  Craig was greeted at the entryway to the
restaurant by a tall middle-aged matre'd.

"May I help you sir?" the matre'd asked efficiently.

"I was supposed to be meeting Matt Garner at seven for dinner," Craig replied.

"Oh, Mr. Garner.  Yes sir, he is already here.  Right this way sir.  Mr.
Garner said he would be expecting you," the matter 'd replied with an air of
insincere delight.

Craig followed the matre 'd trough the dining room to the table where Matt
awaited him.  It was Matt who spoke.

"Well, I see you are right on time as usual," Matt said, grabbing hold of
Craig's hand and shaking it enthusiastically.

"Yeah, got delayed a bit." Craig replied.

"What did you do?  Discover some drop-dead chick next door?  Or is it some
drop dead guy this time?" Matt chided.

Craig turned a slight shade of red.

"Come on Matt, its been awhile since any of that," Craig replied somewhat
embarrassed, but honestly.

'Yeah, I know.  I am just kidding you amigo.  You've been so busy making
money, and I might add making me money, that you haven't had time for
anything lately," Matt said sincerely.

"I took the liberty of ordering you the usual when I saw you being
interrogated by Guido the hit man at the door," Matt continued.

The both laughed at Matt's characterization of the matre'd.

"Seriously amigo, I hope you are gonna have some time now for that kind of
thing," Matt said sincerely.

"Yeah, I hope so myself," Craig replied.

The waiter arrived with Craig's drink and sat it down.

Craig and Matt continued their dinner with more drinks and more conversation
until almost half past nine that evening, during which the conversation
ranged from investments to affairs of the heart.

Matt had found a new girl he was definitely interested in and proceeded to
describe her in minute detail to Craig.  Having been through this routine
many times before, Craig smiled and listened patiently. He wondered if this
was going to be the girl that Matt would finally commit too.  Hell, who was
Craig to criticize?  He hadn't committed himself to much in the last four
years but making money.

Somewhere, about the middle of the dessert, Craig's mind began to drift off
to the earlier and simpler times when he was an underclassman at UT.  Scenes
of the girls he had had affairs with, and the guys, began to unreel in his
mind.  Craig was soon startled back to reality.

"I said what do you think?" Matt repeated.

"Uh, about what?" Craig asked.

"Buddy boy, you haven't heard a damn thing I have said," Matt said
matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry," Craig apologized.  "I didn't mean to dork out on you."

"Well, I have been talking too much anyway amigo," Matt admitted.

"You know what your problem is amigo?  You need to get laid," Matt said with
emphasis on the word laid.

"More than that amigo, you need someone to enjoy all that money with," he
continued honestly.

"Yeah I know," Craig admitted.

The two friends finished their dessert and coffee, and after more discussion
about Matt's newfound girl, and Matt's investments, they headed out of the
club to go their separate ways.

"I'll give you a call in the next day or so when I get the condo squared
away," Craig said to Matt as they headed toward their cars in the lot.

"Thanks for the dinner," he continued.

"No problem," Matt responded.

"Besides amigo, I am ready for that good meal I know you are gonna fix when I
come over," Matt continued.

Craig just laughed.  He knew it was true.  Craig had cooked almost all of the
decent meals they had had when the two of the lived together.  Craig headed
the Four Runner out of the parking lot and toward the freeway.

It was on the drive home that the realization of what he had really gained in
the last four years began to work in Craig's mind.  Yes, he probably never
would have to work again if he managed his money carefully.  And, it was
true; that most guys his age would have done anything to have the material
things he had at this point in his life.  But, the one thing that occupied
center-stage in Craig's mind, most of all, was that there was no one to share
any of it with.  Matt was right.  As the black Four Runner headed out toward
Craig's lakeside condo, a feeling of emptiness tugged at him.

Craig spent the better part of the next day unpacking boxes to the sounds of
his new 98 Degrees album on the stereo. He did stop long enough to go to the
store and stock up on enough groceries to make do until everything was
unpacked and the rooms, especially the kitchen, were ready to be put to full
use. It was around five that evening that Craig changed into his tank top,
shorts, and running shoes to hit the jogging trail.

One of the reasons Craig had decided upon this particular location was the
fitness center, tennis and basketball courts, and the jogging track that the
development offered.  Although he might not have to work as much anymore,
Craig was very much a person who wanted to keep in good shape.  There was no
way he was going to let himself get fat and lazy.  He might be rich but he
wasn't stupid.

Craig walked from his condo toward the jogging track.  Once there he did his
usual stretching exercises and started off on his run.  The layout for the
track was really a good one.   Much of the track wound its way through the
woods that made up a big part of the estates, then over a creek that fed into
the lake, and finally along the main drive past the tennis and basket ball
courts. In all, it was about 2 1/2 miles around the entire track.

Just as Craig had almost completed his third time around he began to feel the
food and booze from the night before.  The cramps started slowly at first,
but then they began to spread from his sides toward the middle of his
stomach.  He stopped along side the tennis and basketball courts and sat down
on one of the benches, pissed at himself that he had tried to do the normal
routine.  It had been almost two weeks since he had been running. That, and
last nights meal did add up to a fun run.

It was while he was sitting there trying to feel good again that Craig
noticed, for the first time, a group of teenagers playing street hockey in
the parking lot next to the tennis courts.  He was sure they had been there
for some time but he just hadn't noticed on his first laps around the track.

There were two groups, five to a group, and they were obviously divided into
shirts and skins.  Craig watched them skating around the lot, like so many
fast-moving bees scurrying to and fro bringing nectar back to the nest.  Yet
in this case, it was to slap the ball into a goal.

It was on about the third or fourth try that one of the young boys made an
attempt at scoring that caught Craig's attention and his mind became focused
on him.  He was certainly the most intense of the bunch.  The youth's voice
rang out above all the others as he hollered at his teammates.  He was a
good-looking youth.  Craig guessed about sixteen or so and about 5' 9".  The
youth's blonde hair was thick on the top and short on the sides, the style
Craig new was popular now.

Since the object of Craig's attention was in the skins group, Craig could see
the sweat glistening off the boy's naked upper body like the dew on the lawn
on a cool spring morning.  Craig watched intently as the boy skated
frantically, blocking this shot, making that one, the muscles of the youth's
stomach accented by each turn and move he made.  It was an incredibly
sensuous spectacle.

Craig sat there, as if in a trance.  There were nine other players skating
back and forth on the parking lot.  Craig's attention was focused on only
one.  His eyes followed the youth's every move.  Emotions began to build in
Craig that had been dormant for some time. In short, Craig was mesmerized by
the youth.  Eventually, Craig came to the realization that in staring at the
boy he had made himself completely and uncontrolablly hard. Craig had the
boner of all boners.

Craig turned his body on the bench and looked away for a moment in hopes that
his erection would subside.  Hopelessly, he tried to concentrate on other
things.  The stock market, the unpacking he had left to do, anything, but
what his mind was urging him to consider.   None of it helped much.  Each
time he would gain ground the kid's voice would pierce the air, pulling Craig
back to the reality of the moment and causing him to look once more in the
direction of the youth.

Finally, Craig had heard and seen enough. He looked around, saw that the
coast was clear, and headed rapidly back toward the condo, hoping that no one
would notice that his running shorts were terribly distorted by his erection.


Part Two

Craig's erection had subsided considerably by the time he got back to the
condo.  Nevertheless, Craig hastily opened the door and went inside, fearful,
perhaps, that someone would see his thoughts.  He tossed the key on the
kitchen counter, walked over to the leather lounge chair and collapsed in it,
his mind a mass of confused emotions. What was it about the kid he had seen
that had such an effect on him?

As Craig pondered that question, the scenes of the street hockey game and the
boy again began to replay themselves in his mind, as if they had been etched
forever upon his memory. Craig decided that a relaxing bath in the whirlpool
tub was what he needed to clear his mind and get back to reality.

Craig made his way to the bathroom, turned on the faucets, and began to fill
the tub with the water that he hoped would wash away his confusion.  He took
off his shoes, then peeled off his running shorts, exposing a now flaccid
cock, which only minutes before had been fully erect.

Craig waited patiently for the water to fill to the proper level then cut on
the switch, which activated the jet action of the tub.  The water swirled and
bubbled around his legs as he entered the tub and slowly eased himself down
into the soothingly warm water.  Unfortunately, however, the whirlpool did
not have the desired effect of washing away Craig's confusion.

As Craig lay in the tub, the swirling water tingling and massaging every part
of his body, the scenes of the skaters began to replay themselves once again
in his mind.  Foremost among them were the images of the blonde-headed youth
and his body.   Aided by his thoughts and the tingling action of the waters
of the whirlpool, Craig's dick once again became noticeably and
uncontrollably hard.  Craig lathered his hand with the soap, moved it
downward toward his throbbing dick, and wrapped his fingers around it.
Slowly and deliberately Craig began to move his hand up and down the
eight-inch shaft, carefully letting his hand pause at the tip to work his
soap-slicked figures around the head.

He emitted a low groan as the first waves of pleasure, accented by the
water's motions, began to sweep over him.  As he masturbated Craig began to
imagine that he and the blonde youth were alone together in one of the many
patches of woods that lined the jogging trail. In his dream-like creation, he
imagined the youth standing before him, clad only in the pair of shorts that
Craig had seen on him an hour earlier.  As the youth approached Craig kneeled
before him as if worshipping some boy god.  Craig reached up with his hands
and slowly pulled down the youth's shorts, revealing a hard and thick
seven-inch cock already dripping with pre-cum.  Craig looked up at the god
boy and the boy smiled and nodded his approval.

Craig moved his head forward and wrapped his mouth around the head of the
youth's dick, savoring the taste of the pre-cum.  He imagined his efforts
were rewarded by even more of the youth's nectar like juices. In Craig's mind
the youth began to make fucking motions with his hips as Craig began to take
more and more of the youth's rod into his mouth, until his nose was buried in
the boy's blonde pubes with every downward movement. Craig's imagination ran
wild as he imagined the boy god groaning, then flooding is mouth and throat
with a torrent of honey-like boy cum.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Craig was unable to keep from hollering as first one rope of cum, then
another, shot from his dick, landed upon his stomach, and was washed into the
swirling waters of the tub.  Slowly and deliberately Craig continued to
stroke himself until every ounce of cum, and every detail of his mind's
created image, was exhausted.

By the next morning, Craig had basically forgotten about the events of the
day before.  Street hockey and god boys were far away in the recesses of his
mind as he began to unpack box upon box of his belongings.  Craig's mind was
way too occupied with finding the proper place to put everything to wonder
off for the moment.  Eventually, the downstairs living room of the condo
became so crowded with empty boxes that Craig decided he had to remove some
of them in order to complete his unpacking.  He stacked as many of the boxes
as he could on top of each other, clumsily made his way out of the door, and
down the stairs toward the dumpster.  Admittedly, he made a rather strange
sight as he half saw and half felt his way toward the dumpster with a stack
of boxes piled higher than his head.

"Hey, watch out!"  He heard a vaguely familiar voice yell.

"Ummppff!!!!"

Craig was hit as if by a truck.  Boxes flew in all directions as Craig fell
to the ground flat on his back.

Dazedly, Craig sat up and looked at the scene before him.  There, sprawled
amongst the boxes, was the boy he had seen from the day before.  The kid,
clad in his skates and a pair of red silk shorts, shook his head as if to
clear it.  His hockey stick lay far away from him where it had flown with the
force of the impact.  Hastily, Craig got up to check on the kid.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Craig went over to help him up.

"Ow!" the kid complained as Craig tried to help him up.

"I think it's my knee," the youth said.

Craig eased the kid back down and began to feel his knee.

"That hurt?" he asked.

"Shit!" the kid exclaimed.

"How about here?" he asked as he tenderly squeezed the kids calf muscle with
his hands.

"No," the kid responded.

"And here?" he asked as he squeezed the kids thigh.

"No," the kid responded.

"But you can keep going if you wanna. That feels good," the continued and
smiled.

Craig's hands recoiled from the boy's leg.

Craig looked at the youth's smiling face and for the first time he noticed
his eyes. The boy's gray eyes stared back at him as if they were looking into
the depths of his soul.  Craig became transfixed, almost hypnotized, by what
he saw.

"What's your name?" he heard himself ask as he stared at the youth's face.

"Jeff, what's yours?" the youth replied.

"My names Craig. You live around here?" Craig continued.

"Yeah, with my dad.  He is the grounds keeper and maintenance man for the
condos," the kid replied.

"Hey mister, uh Craig, I'm okay really," the kid added.

"Let me help you up," Craig offered as he held out his hands and arms to help
pull the boy up.

It was when Craig tried to help Jeff up that he noticed the boy's crotch and
that the youth definitely had the beginnings of a boner. From the size of
bulge in the kids red silk shorts it was nothing to be ashamed of either.  At
the sight of the kids pending erection, Craig became aware that his own organ
was beginning to spring to life inside the confines of his shorts and that
the youth's eyes were focused his crotch. The two of them made eye contact
again, each looking into the eyes of the other for what seemed like an
eternity.  Undeniably, they had each seen that the other was aroused.

"Uh, I really ought to be going," Jeff said.

"Yeah, you should," was all Craig could think of to say.

Craig helped the boy up onto his feet.  There was a noticeable bulge in front
of youth's red silk shorts as he stood there balancing himself on his skates.
 The boy turned, skated over, picked his hockey stick up off of the ground,
and turned again to face Craig.  The bulge was still quite evident.

Craig's mouth went dry and his heart raced as he stood there looking at the
kid.  The boy made a beautiful portrait as he stood there looking at Craig.
The youth was tall and well built for fifteen.   A pair of brown nipples that
were the size of quarters accented his tanned, smooth, chest.  The boy's
chest tapered down toward a firm, hard, stomach that had the beginnings of
etched muscle. The youth's navel was perfect, a slight innie with just a fine
line of hair trailing down to the top of his red silk shorts.  The youth's
face broke into a grin.

"Well, I'll see yah," the kid said as he turned and skated off toward the
tennis court parking lot.

"Yeah, see yah," Craig replied.

Craig's eyes followed the boy, who kept turning and looking back at him,
until he skated around the corner and out of sight.   Then, he focused his
attention on picking up the empty boxes and placing them in the dumpster,
glad that his erection was subsiding, but grateful for the brief encounter.

Jeff's mind was not on the game that day.  His mind was full of unanswered
questions.  Why had he told the man how good his hands felt on his leg?  Why
had his dick started to get hard as he felt the man's soft hands check out
his knee?   The last few days, Jeff had seen Craig jogging and then stopping
to watch their game of street hockey.  He had never seen Craig close up until
today.  Did the fact that he found the man (Craig) attractive mean that he
was gay?  These questions and more went through Jeff's mind as he
half-heartedly tried to play the game.  He was not his usual competitive self
for sure.

Even as Jeff skated home, thoughts of his brief encounter with Craig
continued to run through Jeff's mind.

"I know the guy was checking me out.  I saw him staring at my
dick.  Did he see me staring at his?" Jeff said to himself out loud.

Once he was at the maintenance cottage, Jeff sat on the steps and removed his
skates, got up, unlocked the front door, and went in.  He tossed his hockey
stick and skates on the floor by the front door where he usually kept them.
He noticed that the usual note from his dad was on the table.

"Jeff, I have gone with a couple of the guys.  Be back later."

Jeff knew what that meant.  His dad and some of his buddies had gone out
drinking again and he would have to fix his own dinner again tonight.  As a
matter of fact, since Jeff's mom and brother had been killed in the
automobile accident two years ago, his dad had seemed to drink more and more.
 Between his maintenance job at the estates, and his drinking, Jeff's dad
didn't seem to have much time for him anymore.  That is why Jeff had let
street hockey consume him so.  Jeff went to his room and plopped down on the
bed and laid back.  He was tired and sore.  Not too tired and sore, however,
for his encounter with Craig to again surface in his mind.

As he lay there, the images of his earlier encounter with Craig began to
unreel in Jeff's mind.  He could almost feel the man's hands on his leg
again.  Once again he could almost see and feel Craig's eyes looking into
his.  It had given Jeff a tingling feeling when he had.  Jeff let his hand
roam down toward his now-hardened dick and squeezed it as he thought of
Craig.  Had Jeff looked down at himself he would have noticed that the front
of his red silk shorts was already wet with pre-cum.

Unable to control his passion, Jeff hooked his fingers into the waistband of
his shorts, slipped them off, and tossed them on the floor.  As he did so,
his now hard seven-inch cock, a healthy pair of egg-shaped balls hanging
beneath it, sprang free and plopped against his hard belly.  A ribbon of
pre-cum oozed from the head.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," Jeff moaned softly as he worked the pre-cum over the head of
his dick with his hand.

It felt so good to play with himself again.

Jeff reached under the bed and groped for the bottle of baby oil he kept
there.  Finding it, he opened the cap and poured a generous amount on the
shaft and head of his dick.  That done, Jeff began to work his hand up and
down its length and around the head.  Jeff moaned again as the sensations
began to sweep over him and he began to fanaticize about his encounter with
Craig.

In his fantasy, Craig was once again helping Jeff to his feet.  But this
time, instead of skating away, they went to Craig's condo.  Craig opened the
door and let them in. Once inside, Craig kneeled before him, pulled down his
red shorts, and took his dick into his mouth.  Jeff could almost imagine how
good that felt.  He could almost feel the man's moist mouth giving him
pleasure.

As Jeff's fantasy played on in his mind, his hand began to work faster and
faster.  Jeff slowed his stroking and concentrated the actions of his hand
and fingers on the head of his dick.  The wetness of the baby oil made almost
a squishing sound as Jeff worked his fingers over the head.  A ribbon of
pre-cum oozed out and dropped onto his belly, joining the small puddle that
had already formed.  He began to visualize Craig taking his dick all the way
down to his pubes, just as his cousin had done last summer. And, as he had
been shown last summer, Jeff oiled the fingers of his free hand and began to
work them into his tight asshole.  First one, then two, then three of his
fingers began to slide their way in and set up a slow in and out motion.

Jeff's body responded with a shudder as the fingers of his left hand probed
the depths of his asshole and the fingers of his right hand worked their way
over the head of his dick.  Jeff jammed his fingers in as far as he could get
them; looking for the spot his cousin had shown him was there.  He found it.

Jeff began to fuck his hips wildly, trying to get more of the sensation his
hand was giving him as it contacted his prostate.  He could feel the cum
boiling inside his balls and start its way upward.  Jeff hunched down on
the fingers of his left hand as much as he could while he continued stroking
with his right.  He thought he would die!!!

"Ohhhhhhhh," Jeff hollered as he came.

As he came, the hole in the end of Jeff's dick opened up to an almost
incredible size and a rope of cum, almost the diameter of a pencil shot out
and landed on the boy's chest.  Another and another followed that, until a
shinny lake of white boy-cum covered Jeff's stomach.

Jeff sighed, almost disappointedly, as he slipped the fingers of his left
hand from his asshole. Now that his left hand was free he took it and began
to smear his cum all over his stomach, chest, and nipples, fanaticizing all
the time that Craig was moving toward him up to clean it all up with his
tongue.  Jeff continued milking his cock until there was no more of anything
to be had.  Exhausted, Jeff fell asleep.  There was no need to worry that
Jeff's dad would come in as see his cum covered body lying there asleep.  His
dad never came in until the early hours of the morning when he had gone out
drinking with his buddies.

to be continued if there is enough interest.