Date: Sun, 01 Jul 2007 21:22:54 +0000
From: Timothy Stillman <menovember@hotmail.com>
Subject: g/m adult/youth "Showering With Grant"

Showering with Grant
         By
      Tim Stillman

(responses are deeply appreciated)


Thirty is a dangerous year. I was alone in the house now that my mum had
died. Knew some people socially from work. Mostly though, save for Grant, my
thirteen-year-old friend, from down the street, I pretty much was alone.
Grant's family was a poor one. His dad had divorced his mum, who was not the
most pleasant person to be around, always selfish and always trying to see
tricks when people were just being nice to her. Always trying to see what
people wanted out of her. Never knowing that they just might like her was
all.

Grant was always alone on the weekends when his mum was at the local pub and
getting into all sorts of trouble, his brothers, two, all older than he,
were living on their own, so Grant spend much of the weeknights and all the
weekends with me. He was a sad starveling little boy. Not that he didn't
have a sense of humor and a smile that was like the sun when he decided to
use it. He had a deep kind of mumbly voice the other kids made fun of him
for, like sticking him in a waste basket in a teacher's room or out in the
school hall or outside the back of the dining building.

Because he was short and small, but he had musculature and he was
exceedingly precise in his dealings with the other kids at school. This was
where his mum's lack of faith in anyone, especially in herself, came to a
good use, not that fighting other boys was a good thing for Grant to do, but
it helped him win some peace at school with the other boys, if not the
principal. Who had expelled him this past week for bloodying a much larger
boy's nose because he was causing Grant grief. I told him that it was really
wrong to do it when I picked him up at school when he was expelled--his mum
was God knows where--and she had put me on the list to take him if she was
unavailable. Then, in the car, I asked him about the fight and he relaxed
and got into every single detail of what he did to the bully--as we pulled
out of the parking lot, I was saying "way to go, champ" and we were both
giggling goofily.

So I was in the shower this Saturday morning, early, Grant sleeping late and
deep sleep for another three hours I thought.  It was my 30th birthday and I
was less than thrilled. I had never known anyone sexually and was always
timid in that regard. I was soaping my penis and making it hard like I
always did in the shower. The soapsuds and the warm water always made my
penis the most excited. I also had Astroglide I bought from Sexerotica which
was on one of the cable channels every late Thursday night--a home shopping
program where women sold, unblushingly, sex toys and sex aids, like other
shopping channels sold jewelry and clothing. The stuff for my dick was good
and I was leaning back against the shower wall with the warm water pelting
me, and me moaning as I rubbed my hard on^Åand then as they write in cheap
romantic fiction^Å

There was a knock on the door.

On the bathroom door and Grant sleepily calling my name. I had fancied him
for a while. Though I never seriously considered doing anything with him. He
was 13 for Christ's sake. So I shouted out, my hands off my penis, which was
diminishing as though I had been caught naked and jacking in public, "Be out
in a sec, Grant."

He knocked again.

"In a sec." I was beginning to wash the suds away and to turn off the
shower. I got to my towels lying on the chair next to the shower. All so
clumsily. And was just bending over to turn the water off, one towel already
at my neck, ready to dry my hair, when Grant came in. I turned, shocked, to
him, and my penis was erect again, though I willed it to be soft and hiding
please. I hid myself with the towel. Which he instantly reached over and
pulled away.

"Peekaboo," he said, laughing.

I was getting angry, but held it in.

"Hi Tim," Grant said, waving. He actually waved his right hand at me as
though he was seeing someone off on a train. And it was the silliest
situation--here was I naked and hard and here was this pretty hot kid with a
flat top and a face that had some scars on it from his rows, and eyebrows
that almost knitted in the middle--this dark, dark haired kid with the bad
teeth and he was standing there, beautiful--I had always liked the Mark
Lester types--which he was definitely not--golden and willowy and girlish and
lovely and pink and white--which was the other side of the moon from
Grant--his skin was dark and his hands were already those of a man's, but he
turned me on, not just only now, but so much of the time.

He was a loving boy, because at home and at school, he got very little
affection. He oddly enough made out with the girls fairly nicely, he said,
and I guessed the sadness and out of place ness of him kind of had an affect
on their hearts. As I imagined it did on mine. He came to me and he did what
we often did when alone, we hugged. Only this time this small boy was
hugging my six ft. two inch frame when we were naked. My wet body felt so
tingly against his warmed from sleep and having been wrapped so tightly in
covers, he always slept like that, even in summer, because it made him feel
safe, made him feel as though he would not go lifting skyward and off to who
knows what galaxy at least while he was asleep and could do nothing about
it.

His body was stringy in the arms and muscled round the chest and the legs.
He had a pretty good patch of pubic hair and a long sheathed penis. The
sheath looked like a tobacco pouch.  Though where I had seen a tobacco pouch
I've no idea. Westerns, I guess.

I would say it was maybe four inches, hard, because now I noticed it was
hard, I felt it against me, sticking in my flesh and his balls were heavy
feeling. He was rubbing back and forth and my penis, the reg. Six inches and
cut of course, dammit, was against his chest. He said good morning, again.
And said he would dry me off. He took the towel from my somewhat trembling
hand and had me naked come out to the living room couch. I sat there with my
hard on up against my belly as he sat on my lap and started to dry my hair.

"Happy Birthday, Uncle Tim" he said, though we weren't related, he called me
that, which made me feel happy and close, cause that was a rarity, as I've
said, for me. His buns, which I had not yet seen, were firm, but not hard,
and his penis against mine was so incredibly magnificent, our hard ons
touching, mine with thicker pubic hair, lighter colored than his, with bands
around it, his, I later was to find out, in sucking on it, was a smooth
brownish glistening glow when I pulled the foreskin back.

Its head was large. And the slit was like a guppy mouth. We laughed a lot
when I made it talk, like a ventriloquist would. And he put his chest
against my chest when he finished drying my hair and me wet on the sofa,
while he held me and said he loved me lots and lots. What an incredible
boy-tough and strong and at the same time, he could be so warm in my arms
and I so warm in his, and now he was giving me my birthday present.

He finally told me to stand and then got another towel and dried me off and
then he told me to lie down on the floor next to the couch, and we held each
other and kissed and poked our dicks at each other's stomachs and groins. I
was never unamazed at how thin and small this firecracker of a boy was. So
delicate really, when you looked an inch below the surface. I worried about
him a lot. His mother and how he would grow up sanely with her insanity,
maybe the toughness of his childhood, hopefully blended with affection from
me and my telling him how bright and unique and diamond like he was in such
a world of conformity, every word of which I meant, would stand him well
later on. And he whispered in my ear, "Uncle Tim," and then he put his lips
closer still to my ear, "I would appreciate it mightily if you would suck my
cock."

Then he looked at me eye to eye, manfully, and I bowed my head and said,
"Thank you, Grant, for the happiest birthday a man could ever hope for. I
fear the years and people and life and things^Åyou know^Å" And Grant said as I
put my lips to his cock, "Anyone ever gives you any trouble, Uncle Tim, just
let me know^Å"And he would get this terribly serious look in his eyes and he
meant every word of it.

But now he was a boy ready to be licked off. So he lay back. His chest skin
seemed to barely stretch far enough to cover his frame. His nipples were
almost invisible this way of his lying. I took his dick, took his
instructions on how to best use his foreskin to make it really really hot.

Then I began to blow Grant. It was great! He came hard and fast and thick. I
swallowed it with trouble as he laughed to see me take his cum in my mouth.
He was to do the same to me in a bit as well. We held each other and laughed
and wrestled and tangled our legs and our arms and measured our dicks and
all sorts of things.

Afterwards, we took a shower together. And from that time on, as long as I
was allowed to know him, as long as he was allowed to know me, even after he
didn't want to have sex that much with me anymore, for I always asked and
always respected his wishes, we never took a shower without each other.

We had fun watching Sexerotica shopping network too. Believe me, we had
incredible fun watching it.

And both of us went for a long time looking a lot less lonely. For he and I
had found a friend we could trust. True, good and personal, Grant was a
friend of mine. And he said the very same about me.