Date: Tue, 19 Aug 2008 16:15:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around  Chapter Twenty

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is
not the story for you.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.

NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and
editing the chapters.  Want to read a couple of good stories?  Try "Never
Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give".  They are both excellent.


Chapter Twenty:  Second Time Around


When I woke Wednesday morning, Michael still lay in my arms, spooned into
me.  I don't think either of us moved during the night.  At sixteen and now
having crossed the threshold to appreciate sex mano-a-mano, he still looked
like a cherub as he slept.  After what he had endured the previous night,
he needed to rest.  Slipping my arm from under his head, I went into the
bathroom and prepared for the day.  After the shower, shave and normal
preps, I really didn't feel like dressing.  I walked into the bedroom and
just stood there, looking at Michael, remembering our night together.  He
would wake believing he was ready, believing he was now a man; he had no
idea how much he still needed to learn.  I found a terry-wrap and headed
for the kitchen; it was starter fluid time.

There's something peaceful about sitting on the patio and listening to the
surf.  The sun was above the horizon, but not by much.  I hadn't even
bothered to look at a clock; you aren't supposed to look at clocks when on
vacation.  Time was on my mind though.  What was the best time to talk to
the boys about moving?  How much time would it take to locate a house,
close on the house, and move the furniture and belongings?  In the
beginning, moving sounded like a simple decision and task; not any more.
The soothing sounds of the surf helped me think and work things out.

Near the end of my third cup of coffee, I heard a shower running.  I knew
it was from the boys' room and it wouldn't be long before I would have at
least three teenagers looking for food.  For some reason, as I thought
about the three boys, I wondered what they did last night, as if I couldn't
guess.  It was time for the chief cook-n-bottle-washer to get movin'!

"Mr. G?"  Sean almost startled me; I didn't hear him walk in.  He was
sitting at the front of the breakfast bar.

"Sean, good morning.  I didn't hear you come in.  I assume the other boys
are moving?"

"Yes, sir, but I wanted to get out here first."  Sean's tone said there was
something serious on his mind.  "Mr. G, I just wanted to say I'm sorry.
You know, 'bout last night.  We didn't mean to be disrespectful to you or
Mikey."  Sean sounded sincere and the look on his face was almost pleading
to be understood.

"Sean, I know you guys didn't mean to be disrespectful.  You were teenagers
being teenagers.  Last night was a huge step for Mike.  It'll be a huge
step for all of you, one day, if you choose to take it.  After you take it,
then is the time for all of you to sit around and joke or tease one
another.  I'm not upset with any of you and I don't think Mike is either.
It's best to just let it slide.  Okay?"

"Yes, sir.  I understand."  Sean still had this contemplative look.
"Mr. G?  Can I say one thing?" I turned around and looked at Sean, and
waited.  "Mike sure gets excited and kinda loud, don't he?"  I looked at
Sean for a moment and had to burst out laughing.

"Yes, Sean, Mike is a bit loud.  I have to agree with you on that one.
I'll assume you boys had no trouble hearing him?"

"Mr. G, I think the people up the road could hear him last night.  It was
kinda hard ta sleep and we were kinda laughing and cheering him on in our
own way; if you know what I mean."  Sean had relaxed and laughed some
himself.

"I think I know what you mean.  I probably would have done the same thing
if I'd been in your shoes."

"Shoes?  What shoes?  Sean's as naked as the rest of us, Dad."  Frank was
up.

"Good morning to you, too," I answered him.  I spotted Eric coming in
behind Frank.  "Eric, I'll assume you were in on the fun and games in the
room last night?"  Eric blushed; surprise, surprise.

"Err . . .yes sir.  I mean, with Mike hollerin' like he did, it was kinda
hard to concentrate on anything."

"Bull," Frank interjected. "You concentrated real good on lettin' Sean
brush your teeth."  Eric didn't blush, he turned crimson while Frank and
Sean laughed.

"Okay, fellas, ease up some.  How about someone getting us juice and let's
get the table set.  We'll go ahead and eat.  I don't think your brother
will be up for a while."

"You didn't wear 'im out that much," Frank volunteered, "I heard the shower
goin' in your room when we just walked by."

About that time, Eric walked around the breakfast bar and I could see him
in all his natural glory.  The sight was enough to make me lose my
concentration.  I stopped cooking and stared at Eric, stupefied.

"Eric, would you like to explain to me what that is hanging from what's
supposed to be hanging?"  Eric blushed again and gave me a sheepish grin as
he looked over at Sean and Frank.

"I got one, too, Mr. G."  Sean walked around so I could also see all of his
natural glory, plus adornment.

"Aren't you guys worried about doing some damage down there?  You know, you
cut off too much circulation, you might make that thing useless and then
it'd have to be removed; part, if not all of it.  Where on earth did you
guys get the idea of tying a string around your boyhood?"

"Mr. G, tribes in Africa do it to boys.  They make 'em wear a string tied
around their dicks with a stone as weight.  It's ta help the kid's . .  ."

"I can guess what it's for, guys.  I'm also guessing someone's been reading
stories on the internet?  What I'm worried about is you doing harm to
yourselves.  I can just see me trying to explain to your families that you
had to have part of your penis removed because you cut off the circulation
because you needed to tie a string and stone around it for more length.  Do
you really think it's worth it?"

"Dad," Frank joined the conversation, "remember, all guys want a long dick.
Me and Mike just got lucky; other guys have to work for it."

I didn't say any more, I just looked at them until the string and stone
were removed.  They never stopped making dumb remarks and giggling at one
another.  Then Michael came out, stark naked, dripping wet, strutting, and
added to the chaos.  After he got close, he stopped and started doing some
kind of sexy dance, undulating his whole body, while turning slowly.  When
he had his back to the boys, he stopped turning and started bouncing his
glutes.  The boys were almost rolling on the floor.  When he turned around
and faced us, the boys really howled and my jaw dropped.

"Michael!  Son, what on earth have you done to your pubic area?  You've
shaved yourself to look like an upside down FuManchu!  Why?"  The other
boys were having a great time while Michael gave me his sheepish smile, the
one that normally said I was going to be sorry I asked; I was.

When I said that, the other boys really started howling.  Michael just
looked at them and grinned like he had just made some kind of great
accomplishment.  I was still trying to figure out what was going on here
when Michael turned his body and started the undulating motions again.  He
turned and looked at me over his shoulder.

"Nice ass, too," He said in a high pitched voice.  I was still at a loss.

"Dad," Frank spoke up, "don't think of it as a FuManchu.  Think of Texas;
you know, cattle?"

"You mean horns?"  Then it hit me.

"He's sayin' that Little Mikey is a devil," Frank was laughing so hard I
could hardly understand what he said, "or that Little Mikey is horny."
Three boys had red faces and drooled all over themselves from hysterical
laughter.  Then Mike looked at me, smiled and repeated.

"Nice ass, too."

I just let my forehead fall to the counter and prayed for strength.  Now I
understood why people said to trade them in around age fourteen.  It was
the best way to avoid the temptation to kill 'em.

                                           * * * *

The boys' new friends, James and Donnie, came up the back way, from the
beach.  As James and Donnie approached, Frank opened the door and invited
them in. I thought it was interesting that all the boys were still standing
around nude, eating their breakfast at the bar, and neither the boys nor
their friends seemed to care.  We offered them some breakfast, but they had
eaten and wanted to know if the boys wanted to go seining.  My boys, except
Eric, were lost.

"What's seining?" Sean asked.

"You fish with a net," Donnie explained. "It has floats on one side and
weights on the other.  You toss it out and the weights make it sink.  When
you pull it back in, you hop there's fish in the net."

"What kinds o' fish you catch?" Frank asked.

"Little ones, if any.  Mostly mullet.  We use them for bait with the rods.
That's when we fish for the big ones."  The look on both James' and
Donnie's faces said they enjoyed surf fishing.

"You ever catch anything big?"

"No, but we screw around enough having fun that we don't care.  One day."
Donnie looked at me like he suddenly realized what he might have said and
blushed.  Interesting.

"Go ahead, guys," I told them. "Have fun.  You might want to put on some
pants?"

James and Donnie laughed while the other boys gave me a 'no shit' look.  I
asked Michael not to go because I wanted to talk to him.  The interesting
part was that he hadn't made a move like he even thought about going with
the other boys.  As they all left, I heard James and Donnie saying
something to my boys about how they thought I was a cool Dad for lettin'
the boys hang loose all the time.

"Mike, what does 'hang loose' mean?"  Michael, of course, laughed.

"It means lettin' all the boy parts hang loose.  You know, goin' naked.
James and Donnie think your cool for lettin' us do it."  Michael explained
it like everyone but me knew what it meant.  "You know they're cousins and
like foolin' around; with each other."

Mike grinned like that was supposed to mean something to me; I didn't want
to know what.  Deciding to drop the subject, I walked around and sat on the
arm of a chair to talk to Michael.

"Mike, do you feel alright?  Do we need to talk about last night?"  He
thought for a minute.

"Not really.  I'm okay," he answered in a low voice as he approached me.
He turned around and sat on the arm of the chair and leaned back into me.
"I'm a little sore, but you said I'd be like that.  Dad?"  I picked up on
the hesitation, "Thanks.  I mean, if somebody else'd done it, I understand
what you meant when you said they could hurt us.  That was so
. . . .different.  Usually, when we're all foolin' around, we're just
tryin' ta get our rocks off.  Know what I mean?  But, last night, that was
unreal.  I bet you made me shoot at least four or five times." He blushed
and laughed to himself.  "We made a mess on the bed, did'n we?"

"Yes, we did.  I'm getting ready to strip the bed and do some sheets.  Do
you think we need to wash the linens on the other bed?" I asked, grinning
and knowing the answer.  "Come over here, Mike, and let me check you out.
I want to make sure we didn't do any damage last night."

At first, he seemed reluctant and I didn't understand why.  I stood up
while he came over to me, but instead of turning so I could check him, he
wrapped his arms around me and laid his head against my chest.  I just held
him and ran my fingers through his hair.  He surprised me when he turned
his head and suckled my neck.  I felt an electrical charge run through me
and jumped.  When I started to back away, he held me tighter.

"Don't," he whined, and literally attacked my neck.  I could feel his
erection rubbing against me.

"Michael, slow down."

"Uh-huh.  There's lots you didn't show me last night.  I got somethin' ta
show you too."

With that, Michael sank down to his knees and, removing the terry wrap,
cupped my scrotum.  I felt his tongue scrape across the sensitive head of
my tool.  His tongue kept moving, stroking the shaft as one would an ice
cream cone.  My mind said stop him, another part of me told my mind to
shut-up and go with it.  My mind lost as his moist, warm mouth encased me
and I felt his nose push into my pubes.  He had learned how to deep throat
me.  He backed off and looked up at me.

"You showed me how to let someone make love to me last night.  Now, I want
you to fuck me.  Pure, hard, raw, make me beg for it, sweaty sex.  I
prepared myself this morning and was just waitin' for the others ta leave.
Pick me up and carry me into the bedroom, or throw me on the floor, pin my
legs back, and pound me."  I looked at him and then reached down and,
gripping his arms, pulled him up.  We were moving a lot faster than I had
planned, but I knew he would come to this before it was over.  We kissed as
he ground his groin into mine.  The heat emanating from his body said that
he was excited.  I could feel his heart rate speed up as he gave in to his
needs.  I picked him up and carried him into the bedroom.

To me, I couldn't just grind into him like an animal.  I knew how to have
sweaty, hard- core sex; David had shown me, and I loved it.  Last night had
been a loving sex; this was hard, physical sex to satisfy a primal
instinct.  My hand slipped to his butt, then between his cheeks; he was
lubed.  I inserted a finger and he whimpered; soon, there were two fingers.
I found his chestnut; he gasped for air and whined.  Pushing his legs
apart, I situated myself to enter him.  Pushing past the anal ring, he
gasped and I waited.

"Don't wait.  I want ta feel it plow through."  He hooked his legs over my
back and then let them slide down behind my butt where he pulled me
forward.

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked.

"Readin' on the internet.  I always thought it was hot for the older guy to
throw the kid down and pound his ass.  I'd shoot in my pants while I was
readin'.  You don't know how many times I dreamed of you doin' this to me."

I pushed further, he whined again and gasped.  His breathing came in short
spurts and was labored.  He was hurting and I knew it; I waited.  He pulled
me again.

"Push in, hard; I want ta feel what it's like.  I'm not a baby.  Plow my
ass!"

He had been reading way too much.  His legs pulled me into him and I let
myself penetrate a little harder, a little faster.  He whined and
whimpered, part from lust and part from the pain.  I remembered what it
felt like when I did this same thing with David.  It hurt, it hurt bad; but
it felt incredible.  When I remembered how incredible it felt, I gave
Michael the sensation he wanted.

"AAAAAAGGGHHHH . . . . OOOOHHHHHH FUUUCK!!!"

He let me know he felt it.  I held still while he adjusted.  He bit his
lower lip and whimpered as he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me
down.  He opened his eyes and pulled my lips to his.  His tongue forced its
way into my mouth; I was getting an oral raping.  I whimpered when he
nibbled my lip and I felt his hand on my right nipple.  I cried into his
mouth as he twisted and pulled my nipple.  What had this kid been reading?
I also knew that he and his brother, and Sean, had fooled around a bit,
more like a lot, so he was not totally innocent; except for the bottom, I
hoped.  When he broke the kiss, he whispered into my ear.

"Fuck me.  Fuck me hard.  I wanna feel you pound my ass . . . .please?"

He didn't get exactly what he wanted.  I long-stroked him harder and faster
than last night, and then swapped to short, thrusting strokes.  He let go
of my shoulders as his arms splayed to the sides; he grabbed fistfuls of
linens.  His head twisted from side to side as he whimpered and encouraged
and begged for more as he flexed his muscles to pull me into him.  After
the previous evening, I was surprised he wanted this.  I felt my climax
building and didn't try to hold it back.  I had plans for him and I jacked
him lightly to keep him fully erect.  As I began to shoot, I let part of it
stay inside his rectum and then pulled out and finished shooting over his
abdomen and chest.  He used his hands to massage my fluids into first, his
body, and then mine.  He wanted raw sex, he got it.

I lay over him with my weight resting primarily on my elbows.  As I waited
for both of us to recover, I teased his neck and ears.  I suckled his
nipples and nibbled at them; he jumped around wildly, pushing Little Mikey
up and down my sweaty abdomen.  He wasn't the only one who had been
prepared.  He hadn't had his orgasm and was begging for me to make him cum.
Putting his legs down, I straddled his abdomen.  Reaching back, I guided
his boyhood, which suddenly felt very big, towards my opening.  When I had
him lined up, I raised my body and began to lower myself.

 I thought he felt big in my hand.  As he entered me, I thought he would
split me in two.  Hurt didn't even begin to describe what I felt.  I had
used one of the plugs to stretch myself a little, but nothing could prepare
me for this.  Did I feel that big to him?  If I did, then he had really
endured something.  Lust still consumed us both, but I was sure to maintain
control.  Gradually, I lowered myself down, praying I hadn't damaged
anything, and rocked slightly.  The feeling he gave me was nothing short of
absolutely awesome.  My thoughts drifted to David.  I sat there with my
eyes closed and my hands on his taut abs.  He flexed his abs while I got
accustomed to the fullness.  When his abs first developed, he learned how
to roll them and was now playing his game.  After a few minutes, I relaxed
and began to ride the pony.  When I opened my eyes, Michael was staring at
me as though he were in shock.

"I was scared I was gonna hurt ya."  Michael even sounded frightened; tears
ran down his face.

"I'm a big boy.  If it hurt too much I'm not ashamed to pull off.  You
ready for a ride?"

He just nodded and I took him for an incredible ride for both of us.  I
moved up and down, slid back and forth on his belly, and rotated my butt.
I could feel him stretch me inside.  Experimenting, I found how to make him
stroke my prostate.  Unreal!

The big debate would be deciding which one of us was the most physical.  I
played with him; that's one of my privileges.  To twist around and give him
a different sensation and watch him react was most of the pleasure for me
and, hopefully, for him too.  When I finished with him, he didn't have to
worry a bit about sweating to clean his pores or worry about doing his
normal ab-crunches.  I made sure he got plenty of exercise, and pleasure.
He filled my insides to the point of overflowing and I unloaded another
generous supply on him.

We cleaned up, with both of us behaving this time.  He said he was a little
sore now and wanted to know how I felt.  I told him I felt a little
stretched, which was an absolute understatement.  He had stretched my hole
and I doubted that my insides would ever be the same again.  He asked to
see what I looked like after him being in me, so I let him look.  His
typical description was 'awesome'.

After the shower, neither of us bothered to dress.  We stripped the bed and
put on fresh linens.  He lay down for a short rest.  I had some calls to
make.  Over the years I had learned that when one of my sons had a
particular look on his face, he was trying to decide how to ask me
something; he had that look.  As I headed out of the room, he chose to
speak up.

"Dad?  You think maybe you could show Sean next?"  That was no surprise,
but I took advantage.

"Sean?  Why Sean?  You know I promised your brother."

"Da-ad," oh the sound of frustration.  "You know why.  You made us promise
not to do anything until you showed us the right way to penetrate each
other so we didn't get hurt.  Since I'm the only one you've shown, then
that means the only person I can fuck around with is you."

"Oh, really?  Are you complaining?"

"Da-ad, it's not that.  It's just that . . .you know me and Frank and Sean
. .well, you know.  Besides, I don't think you could keep up with us for
long."

"Really.  Is that a challenge?  Seems to me that I just wore your little
butt out.  I'm not the one needing a nap."

"That's so I can have the energy ta play later."  He giggled like a kid; it
was nice.  I stepped over near the bed and rubbed his back.

"Dad," his voice was serious now. "Did you know that Sean has kind of a
crush on you?  He's always said that he wished you could be his dad.  He
wants you to take him, but he's kinda nervous 'bout sayin' anything to ya.
He told me that he hoped you'd do it while we were here."  Then his voice
changed.  "You know, I can tell 'im from experience that your not too bad a
fuck."

Michael quickly pulled the pillow over his head before I could reach for
him.  There was one part still exposed and I gave it attention; a nice hard
pop.

"OW!  What'd I do?"

He was still laughing under the pillow as I walked out.

                                           * * * *

The bank had its own relo unit.  I had a number and name to contact for
quick service.  The relo unit would help with locating a home for me and
the boys, a contract for moving our personal belongings and even pay to
have my cars shipped down.  The purchase of a new home would be handled
with a bridge loan.  I was told that Linda, my contact, would have full
information ready when I contacted her.

Before calling Linda, I decided to hit the internet and look through some
of the MLS listings.  I wanted to get some idea what was available and the
general prices.  When I entered the site, all I had to do was punch in a
few qualifiers and there were more homes than I cared to see listed.  I
needed more qualifiers.  Before proceeding, I decided to research the
schools.  The state graded the schools each year based on programs and
academic achievement.  Regardless of where I would like to live, the boys'
education was a high priority to me.  It didn't take long for me decide it
would be St. Johns County for public school, or a private school any where
else except for the Mandarin area, which had 'A' schools .

Using the new parameters, I moved back to MLS and had a much smaller list.
Building material qualifiers really helped narrow the choices.  The ideal
home would be two-story, brick, four bedrooms, den, minimum of three baths
and a three car garage.  Square footage would be there and the inevitable,
frightening price.  I didn't see anything that jumped out at me, but I did
learn there were houses out there similar to what I wanted.  It was time to
contact Linda.

Linda presented herself extremely well on the phone.  She already had a
folder opened on me and the boys.  She had taken the liberty to get some
information on the public schools and a few of the local private schools.
When she asked which I preferred, the answer had to be that it was
determined by the area.  I wanted the boys to attend wherever the other
kids in the neighborhood attended.  They needed to be able to make friends
and have them close enough to visit.  She told me what the bank had
authorized for a bridge loan and I nearly fell on the floor.  Someone
evidently didn't mind spending my money.  We talked for a few minutes and
she thought she had a good idea what I wanted.  She was going to do the
searching and offered to email me suggestions.  The pictures would be over
within a couple of hours.

                                           * * * *

Late December in Florida is like spring in New York; I dressed accordingly.
The breeze coming off the ocean felt a little cool when I was in the shade,
but nice when I stood in the sun.  I had picked up some Bubba-burgers and
decided to grill them for our lunch.  Not knowing from one day to the next
how many teen appetites needed to be satisfied, Bubba-burgers were a good
standby.  One of the things the boys liked about them was their shape.
They are made like the outline of the State of Georgia, which happens to be
where they are made.  The boys either smelled them cooking or spotted the
smoke from the grill because I quickly had five rather raucous teens
running up from the beach.

When the invitation to join us was extended to James and Donnie, their
response suggested that the boys had already discussed, and decided, the
matter; I was a formality.  The boys helped by pulling out the lettuce and
slicing tomatoes and onion.  Rather than use the standard hamburger buns, I
opted for sourdough sandwich buns that won the experts' approval.

It was interesting how much time went by without anyone asking where
Michael was.  Finally, Sean asked if he should tell the boy it was time to
feed his stomach.  It seemed to take an unusual amount of time for Sean to
come back with the missing kid.  When they did appear, Sean wore this
interesting smirk, or maybe it was a look of slight discomfort.  Michael
appeared wearing clothes, which I thought was considerate of him
particularly since they were my shorts.  I was way too old to have the slim
waist of a teenager so the shorts were a little big.  The only thing
holding them up was a teenager's bubble butt and they hung so low in the
front, I was sure that if Michael hadn't shaved most of his pubes they
would be showing.

Again, I was relegated to the 'un-needed' status imposed on most adults
when there's a group of teenagers around.  I tried to make the best of it
by serving up a bowl of chips and Gherkins without imposing myself into
their space.  One of the boys even told me thank you; it wasn't one of
mine.  While keeping to my relegated space, I exercised an adult
prerogative and ease-dropped a little.

The boys talked about the New Year's Eve party at the club.  James and
Donnie had both gone to a couple and declared them to be fun.  It was
completely separate from the adults and they didn't have to listen to any
elevator music.  One year they had a really cool DJ, while another year
they had a local, live band.  There was the usual emphasis on a lack of
alcohol of any kind.  There was so much emphasis on that subject that I was
sure it was mostly for my benefit.  The more I listened to them talk, the
more I thought their party sounded like more fun than the adults'.

Most of the kids came stag or in groups.  Some came as dates, but only a
few.  Everyone pretty much knew everyone else, at least on a casual basis,
and it wasn't unusual for everyone to kind of form groups.  At about this
point, their conversation seemed to go more towards a whisper.  If there is
anything that will get an adult curious, it's teenagers trying to talk so
the adult doesn't hear them.  Fortunately, James and Donnie, like my boys,
learned to whisper in a sawmill.  Subtly moving towards them, I almost
laughed when I picked up on part of the conversation.

These guys evidently had been very open with one another, something that
surprised me.  All of the boys knew that they all liked to play around
some.  Play around to them meant knowing other guys where they could do a
little mutual masturbation or a circle jerk.  I first heard them discussing
jerking the guy next to them.  Their next topic was their individual
fantasies.  Unfortunately, someone must have realized I could hear them.

"Da-ad, that's not nice," Frank stated in a very matter-of-fact tone.
Oops.

The boys decided it was time to adjourn to the outdoors.  When they went
out, Sean hesitated and then walked back in.  He waited for the other boys
to close the door.  He turned to me, looking like a lost puppy.  He just
gave me that pleading look for what seemed the longest time before he said
anything.

"Mr. G?"  There definitely was a lack of confidence in the voice.
"Remember you promised to teach us all somethin'?  Well, all of us know
what you taught Mikey; he kinda told us."  'Kinda?' I thought.  I know I
didn't tell them.

"He also told me that he told you that I wished you was my dad."  Sean was
really beginning to look stressed.  "It's true, Mr. G.  I always wished you
were my dad.  I think your cool.  I mean . . . .well . . . .you know, I
never really had a dad, and . . .well, when I went in ta get Mike for
lunch, him and me kinda got me ready.  We were hopin' that maybe I could
take Mikey's place for a little bit?"

"Sean, how can you take Mike's place when you have a place of your own in
this family?"  That brought a twinkle to his eye.

Sean never referred to Michael except when he teased him or spoke of him
affectionately.  If Sean knew I described the way he spoke of Michael as
'affectionate', he'd crawl in a hole.  I sometimes wondered if he knew how
open Michael was with me when we talked about Sean.  I doubted it.  I felt
for him at the moment, knowing he was about as nervous and insecure as he
ever was in his young life.  I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around
his shoulders and pulled him into me.  The kid's whole body was shaking.

"Sean, why are you so nervous?  Since when have you not been able to talk
to me about anything?"

"I know." He was almost in tears, "but there's nobody else I'd talk to
'bout doin' what we're talkin' 'bout.  I wouldn't trust nobody else to do
it.  Ever since you told us you would, back at Thanksgiving, well, I been
goin' nuts just thinkin' about it.  Every night before I go to sleep, I
think 'bout it and . . ."  I tapped him on the back and squeezed him.  Some
things I didn't really need to know.  "I'm so worked up right now I think
if you touched me I'd blow right here in my shorts."  I had to laugh a
little and pulled him in tighter.

My big problem was that he wanted what I had given Michael the night before
and, I'll assume he knew, that morning.  I thought a lot of Sean, he was
almost like another son to me; almost.  He trusted me with what would be
one of the biggest moments of his young life and I needed to be there for
him, just as I always promised.

"Sean, Mike thinks I showed him a lot.  He doesn't even begin to understand
how much I didn't show him.  How about if I show you something a little
different, but accomplish what you want at the same time?"

"Whatever you say, Mr. G.  You know you can always do whatever you want to
me and I won't complain.  I trust you just like Frank and Mikey do."  Tears
were running down his cheeks now.  "Mr. G, I'm sorry.  I'm just excited and
scared and nervous and so horny at just the thought . . ."  I put a finger
over his lips to quiet the magpie and led him to the bathroom.

Sean was so uptight that he was shaking.  When he tried to untie his board
shorts, I stopped him.  After I turned on the shower, I stepped up to the
boy and placed my cheek on his shoulder so he could feel my warm breath on
his neck.  Taking a breath, I blew over the side of his neck and into his
ear as I loosened and dropped his shorts.  He went up on his toes and
whimpered as I wrapped my hand around his boyhood and lightly stroked him
forward.

Sean was not allowed to do anything for himself.  I used shower gel to
massage his pecs, pausing at his nipples to massage them with my thumbs.
It was hard not to laugh as he drew sharp breaths through clenched teeth
and squeezed his eyes shut.  I don't think he realized he was doing the
little boy dance as I worked his body.  Not accidentally, our stiff male
parts brushed against one another.  My leg worked its way between his young
thighs and teased him.

He fought valiantly to control himself, but it was a losing battle from the
start.  No teenage boy can resist the effects of teasing their very
sensitive body.  While I played with his nipples, I slinked my way down
and, without warning, engulfed his boyhood in my mouth.  Quickly adjusting,
I was able to swallow him and began swallowing, forcing my throat muscles
to play with the head.  He jumped and squealed; I had to grab his soft
bubble cheeks to keep him steady.  Before he could bring himself under
control, I milked the first load of the session from him.  As his body
reacted, I reached back and pulled out the plug he and Michael had inserted
before lunch.  The plug was clean, so I decided to skip one step.  When he
finished shooting, I stood and held him while he regained control.

After the shower and shampoo, during which I massaged his scalp and his
neck seemed to lose any semblance of something besides rubber, I patted him
dry.  To make sure he was good and dry in all the right places, I aimed the
hair drier at his groin.  This elicited another loud reaction.  When I was
satisfied that he was ready, I led him to the bed.  The expression of
anticipation on his face was priceless.  This kid thought he had died and
gone to heaven.  I thought the experience was a bit heavenly myself.

"Sean, I want you to lie down on your stomach.  Let your feet hang off the
end of the bed, for now.  Just get comfortable and I'll be right back."

I poured some of the oil I had gotten from David, during my last visit with
him, into a shallow bowl.  The bowl was placed in the microwave and heated
for twenty seconds.  It was enough to take the chill off the liquid; it
felt slightly warm, but not hot.  The oil smelled like a mixture of herbs
and oak; it was a masculine aroma.

When I returned to the bedroom, Sean lay on the bed with just his toes off
the end of the bed.  I had him slide down so his ankles were just off the
bed.  He lifted his head, turned it a little, and inhaled the aroma.

"Sean, I'm going to teach you how to give a sensuous massage.  Done
correctly, it's thorough, feels erotic, relaxing, and exhausting.  Are you
ready?"

"Yes sir."  The nerves were in the tone, so was the excitement.

I placed my hands on the outside of his calves and pressed his legs
together.  Stepping up to the foot of the bed, I straddled his feet; my
scrotum rested in the arch of each foot.  His head came up and I heard the
sharp intake of air when he realized what was tickling his feet.

"Oh, God, Mr. G!  That feels kinda wild and weird at the same time.  That's
your balls!"

"Sean, are you saying that I have weird balls?"

"No, sir!  Not that!  It just feels weird on my feet.  I never had
anybody's balls on the bottom of my feet."  I had to laugh.  I hoped he
hadn't had someone's scrotum of his feet before.

After rocking forward and back three or four times, I moved up on the bed
and straddled his legs just below his butt.  Intentionally, I held his legs
together and he again felt my scrotum resting on the inside of his thighs.
I deliberately moved forward and back a couple of times before applying the
warm oil to his upper back.  He whimpered.

My weight was balanced between my knees and my hands on his back.  Shifting
my weight allowed me to control the pressure on his body without actually
exerting much energy.  As I massaged his back I marveled at how a teen's
body can let you feel the solid muscle of the blossoming man while the skin
retains the softness of the boy.  I smiled to myself as I felt my manhood
rub along the inside of his thighs.  He was trying to spread his legs, but
I didn't allow the movement; he needed to anticipate.  I smiled more as I
heard the puppy like whimpers when he couldn't move.

The idea behind the massage was to help him relax while giving him a nice
feeling.  Sitting on him and rocking back and forth with my scrotum teasing
the inside of his legs made him concentrate on the needs building in his
body.  His imagination suggested to him what might be coming.

Working my way down his back, I spent a little extra time at the top of
each cheek and ran a fingernail inside his crack.  This boy liked to
whimper, loudly.  He was a squirmer, too.  Climbing off his legs, he
immediately spread them to give me access to the area that, by now, should
be itching pretty bad.  I ignored his need and moved down his legs, ending
at his feet; my finger tips tickled the arch of his feet.  He cried out and
laughed.

Quickly, I worked my way back up the insides of his legs.  When I neared
the perineum, I applied some extra oil and pressed firmly.  He moaned and
began to whimper.  Soon, he began to squirm and hump his hips back towards
me.  I knew he was nearing another release and didn't stop until he went
over the edge.

"AAAHHHHH . . . aaaahhhhhh . .  .mmmmmmpppphhh. . .Mr. Geeeeeee."

"Relax Sean, enjoy the moment."

I didn't give him the opportunity to relax as I continued to press the
perineum and simultaneously used a thumb to press his anus.  When he felt
my thumb, he bucked backwards; I withdrew the thumb.  When his breathing
slowed, I rolled him over.

An oiled thumb inside the ear can drive a person crazy.  I cupped his jaws
in the palms of my hands and slowly moved my forefingers over his soft skin
that showed a light coating of peach fuzz.  He moaned, anticipating what
was to come.  I didn't disappoint him.

"Mr. Geeeee?" His voice was full of need and pleading.

When he spoke, I placed both of my thumbs on the edge of his lips and
stroked them.  He shivered and whined.  I smiled.  He couldn't keep his
body still.  Moving down his body, I ran the tip of one finger nail over
and around each pec; circling ever tighter towards the nipples.  When I
reached his nipples, my thumbs brushed them lightly, then I stopped and
pinched them.  I alternated the movements until he tried to squirm from
under my touch.

My fingernails on the little finger of each of my hands traced a path down
his sides.  When I reached the hip bone, the nail on each of my middle
fingers picked up the trail and followed the cleft where thigh met torso.
As I move to his groin, he spread his legs.  When I was on either side of
his scrotum, my thumbs massaged in opposing circles the area around the
base of his penis while my fingers massaged the side of his scrotum.  Sean
was no longer of this world.  His feelings had taken him to a world of
personal pleasure.  Wrapping my left hand, slick with oil, around the
shaft, I squeezed lightly while my right hand moved below the scrotum, over
the perineum, and found the hidden opening.  His legs spread further and I
slipped a finger inside.  Curling the finger, I found his little chestnut.
He cried out as his whole body jumped off the bed momentarily.

Playing with him, I continued to stretch him.  My finger moved over and
then off his prostate.  With each touch he began to beg.

"Please . . .oohhhh, gaaahhhhdd, pleeeaase . . .I need to . . .ohh gaaahd,
I gotta ."  And I let him slip over the edge for the third time.

When his breathing slowed, I rolled him back onto his stomach.  The
exertions of the feelings coursing through his body were tiring.  Using
fresh oils, I massaged his cheeks, teasing, pinching, running my
fingernails in circles.  He whimpered and begged, sometimes I don't think
he realized what he was saying; it was just instinct.  His butt pushed into
the air as he began to react to my ministrations by humping the bed.
Pouring a little oil into his crack, I let it run down to my fingers.  When
they were coated, I pushed two fingers inside.  His head came up and he
cried out.  It wasn't a cry of pain, but of want.

"Please . . .I can't take any more . . .please . . .ohh gaaahd, please fuck
me . . .fuck me, now."  He was ready.

"Are you sure, Sean?  What do you want?"

"You . . .I want you in me . . .please . . .I need you in me
. . .pleeeassse Mr G. Now."

He was definitely ready.  As he spoke he pushed his butt up, openly
offering himself.  I moved between his legs and leaned my weight onto his
cheeks.  With the palms of my hands spread over his cheeks, I spread him
open and positioned myself.  I told him to push like he was using the
bathroom when he felt me trying to enter.  I pressed forward and he cried
out.  This time it was a cry of pain.  I backed off.  Moving my hands to
the small of his back, I massaged him to get him to relax.  We tried again.
When he cried out in pain again I started to back off.  When I did, he
pushed himself back into me.

"No, don't stop.  I know it's gonna hurt.  I swear I won't cry out.  Just
push it in and let me get used to it."

While he spoke, he continued to push his butt back, looking for what he
wanted.  I tried again and when I felt him try to open himself, I pushed a
little harder.  The head penetrated his ring.  He cried out into the pillow
and tried to push back more.  I held him in place and debated whether to
stop.  I could see the tears running down his face.

"More . . .push more in . . .it's incredible.  It hurts like hell, I'm
splittin' apart, but . .I can't explain it . . .it feels awesome."  I
laughed to myself.  Awesome, he was a teenager.

We worked at it until I had most of my length into him.  He was hurting but
he wasn't quitting.  As long as he felt like he could take it, I stayed
with him.  The feeling to me was beyond awesome.  The boys would probably
say double awesome.  When he calmed down and said he was ready, I began
with short, easy strokes.  When I felt like he adjusted to those, I began
the variations.  Something about Sean that surprised me was that he made
Michael look quiet.

"Ohhh yeeeaahh, that's nice . . .gaaahd Mr. G, I can't .. . .I don't know
how ta say it . .  .ooohhh fuuuck yeeaaah . . .fuck me . . .stroke that
baby . . . .uummmmmmpppphhhh . .  .mmmmppphhh ...uuuunnhhh ..uunnhh
..uunnhh ...AAAAHHHHH." He was over the edge again.

I relaxed a little but stayed in him.  It was his call, but the truth was
that it was becoming harder and harder for me to maintain control.  When he
said give him more, I did.  This time, I varied the strokes and speed more
often.  He was getting exhausted and so was I.  I swapped to long strokes
and sat up to let me feel more pressure.  Sweat flowed freely off both of
our bodies.  When I pushed the long strokes harder and harder, Sean began
to cry out with each jolt to his young body.  I bent down and reached under
him and hooked my hands under his shoulders.  I pulled on him to pound in
harder; he cried out louder.  His hands and arms flayed through the air as
he hollered encouragement.  A loud cry came from him and I felt his muscles
contracting around my manhood; he was having another orgasm.  I exploded
inside him and held onto him as tightly as I dared and then collapsed on
top of him.  He held onto my arms as I rolled to my side, pulling him with
me.

I awoke during the night.  I didn't know what time it was.  Sean was still
spooned into me.  Someone had spread a sheet over us.  I fell back asleep.

End Chapter Twenty.
To Be Continued

Comments Welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com