Date: Tue, 15 May 2001 18:02:15
From: Ganymede
Subject: Sixty-Nine Chapter 6

'69' Chapter 6.  by Ganymede


WARNING:

This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts
between a man and a MINOR boy. I do not condone child abuse,  how-
ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely  different
matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material
is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the
legal age for such material, do not read further! You have been
warned! Read at your own risk!

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel free
to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your friends. The
story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It cannot be placed in
archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed
in any form that requires payment.

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FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in
your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your
thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!


'69' by Ganymede

Chapter 6.

"So how come yer bear-buddy didn't make it out to the race
track, Ace," I teased, raising my voice so that he could hear
over the road noise from the wide tires. "The noise too much for
him or somethin'?"

"Bandit don't mind the noise," Ty said seriously.

"Maybe he don't like the smell of gasoline?" I suggested.

Ty gave me his 'are-you-crazy' look. He turned the bear's head
away and cupped his hand over its furry little ear. "He's afraid
of people, okay Terry," he said in a lowered voice. "Particularly
when he don't know them."

"Oh," I said, equally softly. His explanation stopped my
teasing.

Ty was cradling the bear in his arms, stroking its forehead
with his thumb as if trying to get it to go to sleep.

"I reckon I know just how he feels," I added quietly. "I'm
kinda that way myself."

Ty looked up at me and smiled. His eyes flickered. He licked
his bottom lip thoughtfully, still stroking the bear's head.
There was a dirty splotch over the bear's right eye. It was a sad
looking thing, but it was loved. I could tell from how he was
holding it that it was loved a lot more than most teddy bears.

By then, we were out of the trailer park and well on the way
back to the motel on State Route 415. As soon as we passed the
freeway intersection, he neighborhood had changed from one of
mixed-race and low income to middle-class white. The trash, pot
holes, and broken down cars had disappeared from the streets. A
few minutes later, we passed a food market, a huge Piggly Wiggly
with dozens of cars in the parking lot despite the late hour. The
next store was a 'Target' and it was also open. I was past the
first entry before I remembered the dire condition of Ty's
clothes. From what I remembered seeing when he came out of the
trailer, the rest of his clothes were no better. I glanced back
between the seats. From what I could see, Ty had brought a pair
of blue jeans, a denim jacket that had faded to a pale blue, and
a couple of tee-shirts, including the Gordon Jeffries shirt that
he had been wearing when I had first seen him. There might have
been a couple of other things underneath, but it was clear that
he did not have very much.

I pulled into the 'Target' parking lot and parked as close as
I could to the entry. There were less than a dozen cars there, a
situation that was not at all surprising considering that
according to the sign posted in the center of the entry door, the
store was due to close in fifteen minutes. I gave a hurried
explanation to Ty that I wanted to pick up a few things as we
rushed inside, grabbing a shopping cart from the end of the line.
Fortunately, the boys' clothing section was close to the front of
the store and not too difficult to find. Given the frequency at
which I visited the laundromat, I figured that he would need
clothes for about two weeks. In my book, and at the rate at which
I went through clothes--which was a function of oil spills and
sweat smell--that meant about six or seven sets of shorts and
tee-shirts and a dozen pairs of underpants. The only problem was
that a day earlier I had called the credit card company to check
my limit and hopefully get it increased. The woman on the
telephone was understanding but polite. The end result was that I
had about fifty dollars left on my card before my credit was so
far into the red that the store clerk at the check-out called the
police.

"Ya got a favorite color, Ace?" I asked when we reached the
racks of shorts, and found size 10.

Ty shrugged. "Ya don't have ta do this, Terry. Ah got some
clothes in tha car."

He held the bear by its ear, looking forlorn and more than a
bit tired.

"Yer right, I know I don't have ta, but I wanna see ya dressed
up in some clean nice clothes fer a change, Ace," I answered
before I thought.

Ty's face instantly became crestfallen. His lips compressed
and he clutched the bear's ear so tightly that his knuckles
paled. It was apparent that he did not have very much. In my
mind, it was only to be expected that he was proud and possessive
of whatever he had that he could call his own.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean it the way it
sounded, Ace. I just want ya to look nice, okay?"

"Okay,.... but don't be buyin' expensive stuff like this," Ty
said heatedly. His voice was huskier than usual. He avoided my
eyes. "Twelve bucks for some dumb shorts is just crazy."

I gulped. I had not noticed the price tag. At twelve dollars I
would barely have enough to buy four pairs of shorts. He still
needed shirts and underwear, and from the look of his shoes he
could do with some new sneakers as well.

"What do you suggest?" I asked simply.

"Maybe over there," Ty said as he pointed.

There was a rack of clearance merchandise with a bold sign in
red and white, 'SALE 50% off last price'. I led the way and
pushed some of the hangers to the side to make some space on the
jam-packed rack.

"It's mostly beach stuff," I said.

I lifted out a hanger with a pair of gray-blue and black swim
shorts. It was plastered with strange graphics and looked like it
belonged in a science fiction movie with its pockets, zippers,
and snaps. It was of a style that came down a to just above the
knee. It was trimmed in black webbing and it was the only one
left on the rack. It was size '10'. I checked the price. The last
price was marked at $9.99. I was hopeful. I held it out.

"Whatcha think?"

"Way cool!" Ty did the math in his head. "See, it's only five
bucks. You could get two for the price of one of them ones over
there."

"So pick out two you like," I suggested.

"You got one of 'em already," Ty grinned. "I like tha one
there that's in red okay," he added cautiously.

I picked out the second hanger. It was nearly the same style
as the blue and black shorts, but the legs were shorter and it
was trimmed in purple webbing. I decided that Ty's taste was
about the same as mine. Even Bobbie made fun of my clothes. From
my point of view, there were two advantages in buying him swim
shorts. First, he would probably swim every day at one of the
motel pools when we were travelling--minimizing the need for
frequent visits to the laundromat, and second, he would not need
underpants. I smirked at the thought.

So far I had spent ten dollars. I started looking for tee-
shirts on the sale rack. The selection was pretty minimal. Most
of the shirts were Hawaiian style or featured out-of-fashion
cartoon designs that Ty rejected summarily as being 'nerdy'. He
picked out a neon-blue-colored 'wife-beater' shirt, basically a
sleeveless tee-shirt with openings for his arms that extended
halfway down the chest. He looked at me hopefully.

"There ain't no way, Ace," I laughed.

When I held it up against him, my decision changed instantly.
As much as it was a 'wife-beater', it was also a 'boy-lover'
shirt. It was the next best thing to him being naked. My second
choice in the shirt department was one of the Hawaiian shirts,
assuming that I could convince him to wear it without doing up
the buttons. I picked out one that was mostly orange, yellow, and
red except for some purple splashes that could have been paint
stains or fruit. It was impossible to tell.

"How about this?" I suggested.

I received another 'are-you-crazy' look before he grinned.

"Both?" he suggested hopefully.

"Okay," I agreed. I looked at the price tags. "Twenty bucks!"

"Each?" Ty asked in surprise. "It's way too much money. Ah
really don't need 'em, Terry," he added sincerely.

"No, fer both," I answered.

"'s still a helluva lot to pay, Terry. Ah don't need 'em. Ya
can get good clothes at tha flea market fer a whole lot less."

I smiled. I found myself liking him more and more. I figured I
had twenty dollars left, not including the tax. I was not good at
mental arithmetic. In fact, I was not very good at arithmetic,
period!

"Let's go look at some sneakers," I said.

"They're okay," Ty replied. "Ya spent too much already,
Terry."

He glanced down at his dirty oil-splattered shoes. The laces
were frayed and the sole of one shoe had recently pulled away
slightly, leaving little doubt that it would soon become a gaping
mouth to his toes. I shook my head, letting him know that I would
buy him sneakers no matter what he said. He followed me
obediently, carrying the two shirts.

The shoes were not on sale, at least as far as I could see. I
scanned the rack, seeing prices of $35.99 and above. There was
nothing cheaper.

"Ah don't need no shoes, Terry," Ty claimed again.

His voice worried me. It sounded as if he was going to burst
into tears.

"I'm not takin' no for an answer." I grinned at him. "Those
shoes 'a yers are gonna fall right off yer feet in a coupla
days."

"'n I ain't takin' no charity."

I shrugged. "It ain't charity. Yer gonna be workin' on tha
team, Ace. This is an advance on yer pay."

He beamed immediately. "Yer really gonna pay me?"

"If ya work hard." I smiled at him. "But yer gonna need some
sneakers, 'cause they won't let ya into tha pits barefoot."

"'kay," Ty laughed. "You win."

"There's only one problem. I'm gonna be about twenty bucks
short," I said.

"I got a twenty here somewhere," he offered.

Ty reached into his pocked at extracted a scrunched up ball,
which when folded out, was a twenty dollar bill that was getting
close to the end of its life.

"Pick out a pair you like," I suggested.

Ty strolled alongside the rack, flipping at the shoes absently
until he stopped in front of a pair that were in the right color
and style range. He checked the size and kicked off one of his
sneakers to try the new shoe on. In less time than it took me to
check the price on the side of the box, he had finished.

"Can I go try the new stuff on?" he asked. "It won't take more
'n minute, Terry."

Beyond validating that the sizes were appropriate there did
not seem to be any point in it, and it was getting very near to
the store's closing time, but I agreed anyway. It was so late and
there were so few people left in the store that the changing
rooms were unattended.

"Come on," Ty said over his shoulder. "You wanna see if they
fit, don't ya?"

I shrugged, so tired that I was oblivious to his gleeful mode.
I followed him into the men's section. Ty chose the largest
space, which was probably designed according to some esoteric
access-for-the-handicapped guidelines given the pale blue
wheelchair symbol next to the door. I slid the bolt behind me,
locking the door, just in case some woman came in to tidy up. I
picked up blue-gray swim-shorts and the 'wife-beater' shirt from
the clothes. Ty grinned and started to get undressed. Until then,
I don't think I had ever seen anyone get out of clothes as fast
as Ty did that night. He was dressed one second, and naked as the
day he was born the next. He took everything off, his tee-shirt,
his cut-off jeans, his soiled frayed underpants, even his dirty
sneakers. He was shameless, exhibiting his bare body to an
audience of one, himself. It was almost as if I was not there,
standing in the change room in front of him. I don't know what
brought it on. Perhaps it was me. It was enough just being in
there with him, and with the store's closing time rapidly
approaching, he had to move quickly. Although I hesitated to
think it, I also wondered whether it was his way of thanking me.
The very thought gave me a guilty chill.

He strutted around the tiny room, naked and flexing his arms
and tensing his belly to make his muscles stand out while he
studied his reflection in the mirror. I stood to the side and
behind him, my eyes wide and my mouth open. Every time he exerted
his muscle-boy pose, his buttocks tightened and pinched in. It
was more than enough to make breathing difficult. I felt my penis
getting larger and becoming uncomfortably tight under my boxers.

"Ya think I'm okay lookin'?" he asked after a prolonged study
of himself.

His eyes were questioning, ambiguous, disturbing. He looked
directly at me, as if silently searching to discover what I did
not say.

"Uh huh. Yer okay!" I said vaguely. He was a lot better than
'okay'.

"Not too skinny fer ya, huh?" he asked boldly.

"Yer worried about bein' skinny?" I laughed. "Don't worry, yer
not. Ya got a real nice body, Ace," I joked.

Yet, from his innocent smile I doubted whether he had any idea
of what was going through my mind. The epitome of boyhood was
being subjected to my depraved thoughts. Every time I glimpsed
his butt I trembled as I imagined what it would be like to savor
that pleasure with him. He would be tight. You could tell that
just by looking at him, at his slender thighs and his narrow
pelvis. I swallowed. My throat was dry. He was looking at me
curiously. Interested. His head was slightly askew. His eyes met
mine. I glanced away quickly and pretended to be checking the
labels on the other clothes.

"Ya want me to try 'em on now?"

"Huh?" I turned around again. "Sure whenever you get through
playin' with yerself."

He grinned. He was playing with his penis. It was half-hard,
already lifting up from its resting place against the soft pouch
of his scrotum. In the bright light from the overhead fluorescent
lights, his glans was far more blue than I had remembered. One
expected that part of a boy's body to be flesh colored, not
cornflower blue. As his penis continued to harden, the hue
darkened, becoming closer to the same deep-colored blue that was
on the hood of the Pontiac as the skin grew tight and shiny. It
looked so unnatural that I could not take my eyes away. His penis
twitched, jumping an inch at time at the tip. The short, hard
shaft was swollen and variegated with tiny dark veins, bulging
just under the skin.

I did the only thing, I could do. I handed him the clothes I
was holding. I turned away immediately. I had become hard almost
instantly, or rather my penis had become hard. The rest of my
body felt like Jello after it had been through a blender. By the
time I had turned back, imprisoned by unsatisfied lust, that part
of his body that interested me the most, was covered again.

"Whatcha think?" he asked.

He put his hands on his hips and swivelled, parodying what I
presumed was a fashion model. He didn't have much talent, but
what he lacked he more than made up for with his smile. He was
incredibly sexy and he knew it. Without a shirt on, the top of
his shorts started within a fraction of an inch of his navel and
reached almost to his knees. If he put any weight at all in his
pockets, the shorts would drop down his skinny waist until they
were restrained by his slightly wider hips.

"They look okay," I said reluctantly. He looked great, but he
looked even better naked. "They feel good?"

It was not what I wanted to say, but I reckoned that he would
not want to hear what I was really thinking. I took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. My penis was so goddamn hard it felt like
it would burst any second.

"You like 'em, Ace?" I asked.

"Yeah. I like 'em a lot. They're hot, ain't they?"

He turned around and gave me the back view. It was every bit
as delectable as the view in front. Instead of a small bulge
between his slim thighs and a crease that ran part of the way
down one leg of the shorts, there were two 'melon halves' split
by the furrowed seam down the rear. His suntanned slender back
and shoulders lacked the interesting detail of belly button and
nipples, but the graceful curving line of tiny bumps and the
prominent wings of his shoulder blades got my attention almost as
much.

"Cute butt," I said, without thinking.

I said a lot of things without thinking. Bobbie often said I
opened my mouth just to change feet. I guess it's who I am--Mr.
Big Mouth.

"Forget it, Terry," Ty said sarcastically. "It ain't
available."

"I didn't think it was. It's cute, that's all. Try the shirt
on too."

He grinned at me again and then pulled on the shirt. I stared.
I know I stared. He looked into the mirror admiringly. The change
was unbelievable. Not just in how he looked, although that was
incredible, but in how he acted. Gone was the playful mocking of
a fashion model showing off clothes. This was a very different
boy. He backed away, holding my eyes with his deliberate gaze,
slowly, casually, rocking his hips the same way that hookers do
when they're on the prowl.

"Sexy," I said softly. "Very sexy."

"Ya really think so?" His eyes brightened. A moment later he
scowled. "I reckon it's only 'cause ya like boys."

I was not at all sure what he intended by that, and from the
way he started to remove his shirt, it was clear that he did not
want to elaborate. I shrugged it off. He dropped his shorts
simply by undoing the button at the top and letting them slide
down to his feet. His penis was still rock-hard and the tip was
even darker than before. He smirked at me and teasingly reached
down with his right hand. I watched, mesmerized as his hand
enclosed it, pushing down onto his pubis until the little knob on
the end was squeezing between his thumb and first finger. His
hips moved slightly, an inch or two back and forth, a slow
deliberate rhythm that should have been foreign to him, but was
not. His nostrils flared whenever he breathed in deeply. I
wondered what he was thinking. It was highly unlikely that he
would be thinking the same thoughts as I was, but that did not
stop me from hoping. I wanted to touch him, to replace his hand
with mind.

"The store will be closing in five minutes."

The announcement was loud and Ty jumped. His eyes flashed and
he backed away. His penis was so hard that it quivered when he
moved.

"Too bad. Ya missed yer chance," he taunted.

"Yer spendin' the next coupla months with me," I reminded him.
"There's gonna be lots a chances to play with yer dick."

He dressed again, giggling, still teasing me right up to the
very end when he sat down to put his old sneakers back on. Even
then, his penis was standing straight up and making a definitely
noticeable bulge in his crotch. He followed me out of the change
room and tagged along behind me all the way to the checkout
counter.

I handed over the selection of clothes and waited while the
middle-aged black woman rang up the prices and removed the anti-
theft tags. Ty hung around behind me, drifting back and forth,
idly looking at the merchandise rack. Like most stores it was
loaded with junk, but directed to encourage children to annoy
their parents while they waited.

"Y'all visitin' fer the big race?" the woman asked.

I nodded and chose not to elaborate. It was taking forever for
the credit card charge to go through. Instead, I yawned and made
a desultory effort to cover my mouth.

"Them tattoos is all the rage. My boys is wearin' 'em too."

"Huh?"

"Yer son," she said as she started to put some of the clothes
into a plastic bag.

Ty was picking through a collection of temporary tattoos. He
held one up, his expression hopeful. The tattoo was of a hand,
with the middle finger up and slightly curved. I smirked. I shook
my head. Immediately, he picked up a second tattoo, this one of a
skull and serpent. Again, I shook my head. It was promptly
followed by a shark. I could live with that one. I stepped back
to where he was standing.

"Yer lookin' fer somethin', Ace?" I asked.

"They don't cost much all that much, Terry. Even the big ones
is two bucks."

"This is you," I teased. "I reckon this would look cool on
yer,..." I leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Butt."

"A blue flower. There ain't no way. How about this?"

He had selected the American eagle in a triumphant pose. It
was patriotic, but in my mind it was not the sort of thing that a
boy should be wearing on his butt. I took it from him and put it
back on the rack. Ty grinned and picked it up again. He held it
against his right arm, close to the shoulder and screwed his head
around to see what it looked like. He looked at me hopefully.

"It's only a buck," he suggested.

"Okay," I relented. "But I get to pick out the others."

"What others?"

"Well, this for one," I said.

It was bold and brazen and it said what I wanted to say.
'SEXY' in brilliant red, orange and neon blue.

"I ain't wearin' that," Ty giggled. "'least not where anyone's
gonna see it."

"Where I got in mind, ain't no one's gonna see it. 'ceptin'
me," I added quietly.

His eyes widened and he glanced down his front. There was only
one place that a tattoo of that size could go and not be seen--
between his belly button and his sex organs. It was where it
belonged.

"It's two bucks but, Terry," he said.

"Which reminds me we need some fer yer butt," I teased. "Not
flowers? Are you sure. How about some of them red roses, one on
either side."

Ty shook his head adamantly, rejecting the suggested tattoo
but not the proposed location. I held up a 'smiley face'. He
shook his head again. 'Lips' met with same response.

"Hm,..." I pretended to muse. I held up two red circles with
diagonal slashes. "This is you!"

"Huh?"

"No entry," I teased.

"No way!"

I laughed and glanced quickly to see whether the woman had
finished with our purchase. She was looking at me with
impatience, holding out the charge slip for me to sign.

"You pick then," I said. "Just no skulls on yer butt."

I signed the charge and took the receipt as Ty came up behind me.

"Hey, can we get these too?"

He placed the tattoos on the counter. There were four all
together. The 'Eagle' and 'SEXY', and two that I had not seen
before. One proclaimed in bold squared off red letters, 'STOP',
and the other advertised, 'KEEP DREAMING'. I handed over the five
dollars I had just received and the loose change in my pocket to
cover the tax. Ty beamed and bounced up and down on his toes
excitedly as the woman rang up the additional last-minute
purchase. We were the last customers out the door.