Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2005 11:58:58 EST
From: Justin0398@aol.com
Subject: Stonebridge Days 01 by Justin Davis (M/t, mast, anal play)

The following story contains graphic sexual scenes between a young male
and an older male. 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 by law.

This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.  Additionally, the actions of the characters in this story
are in no way intended to show approval of, or give sanction to, their
actions.

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

Positive comments are always welcome and you may e-mail them to
Justin0398@aol.com



Stonebridge Days
By
Justin Davis

Chapter One

"You looking at that picture again?" my lover Gerald asks me, as I
examine the photograph that came enclosed in this year's Christmas card.

"Yeah," I reply, holding it up to examine it closely once again.

"How long have Brandon and Antonio been together now?"  Gerald asks.

"Three years now," I reply.

"Well, I'm going to bed.  I know you are gonna stroll down memory lane
again.  I can tell by the look on your face.  Just hold me when you come
to bed.  Okay?"

"Yes, love, I will.  But, well, you know."

"Yes, I know," Gerald replies, and heads off toward our bedroom.

I sit looking again at the picture that was enclosed in the Christmas
card, and I can't help but smile and think how quickly time flies and how
things change.

Brandon looks every bit a young man now, at twenty-four, and I can't help
but marvel at how much the guy he has his arm around, Antonio, has
matured to the same degree.  The two of them have been steady lovers for
three years now, and if there was any doubt that the two of them are in
love the picture dispels it.

Yes, Brandon has turned into a very good-looking young adult with not a
trace of femininity about him.  Yet, there was a time when that was not
the case.  As I set the picture down on the end table my mind can't help
but wonder back.  Gerald knows that.  It always does. It seems like only
yesterday.  Yet, it was ten years ago.

I had lived at the Stonebridge Apartment complex for about two weeks
before I first laid eyes on Brandon.  My company had transferred me to
Orlando a month before and it had taken me almost the entire month to
find a suitable apartment, especially during the summer at the height of
the tourist season.

Finally, feeling settled in and wanting to take advantage of the
amenities, I had decided to enjoy the bright June sunshine and the large
pool that dominated the central courtyard of the apartment complex.

As is usually the case around the swimming pool in apartment complexes,
there was the usual assortment of kids, parents, and singles all either
lying around soaking up the sunshine or enjoying the refreshing water of
the pool.  Glancing around, I noticed a few empty lounge chairs, somewhat
away from the others, and opted for one of those, not really caring that
if I decided to jump into the pool and cool off I would have a little
farther to walk.

I guess I'd been reading my book for over an hour or so and had just laid
it down beside the lounge, flipped back over on my stomach, and was just
about asleep, when a young voice quite close by jarred me from slipping
off into dreamland.

"Mister!  Uh excuse me mister!  You wouldn't happen to have change for a
five dollar bill would you?" a young voice asked.

"Uh, huh?  What?"  I replied groggily, and rolled over to see who was
talking.

"I asked if you had change for a five dollar bill?" the kid asked again.

I didn't immediately respond.  Once my eyes focused, I was so taken aback
by what I saw that I was speechless.  Standing there before me, in a
yellow Speedo swimsuit, was the most beautiful specimen of a young teen
male I'd ever seen.

The long, blonde, hair, which hung down to his shoulders, was almost
bleached white from long hours in the sun.  His dark, tanned, skin seemed
to be only accented more by the yellow Speedo that he wore.  His
quarter-sized nipples were a dark, almost almond shade, while his tummy,
was just beginning to show the signs of abdominal muscles, and the
bright, blonde, almost white, peach fuzz only added to the beauty of his
body. The kid was a living example of Donatello's bronze statue of
David.  Not quite boy, not quite girl, he was an androgynous mixture of
both.  Feminine waist, with feminine hips and long slender legs, he might
easily been mistaken for a girl.

Yet, if there was any doubt as to his sexual identify the bulge in the
front of his Speedo was more than enough indication that this was a teen
male who was developed far in advance of what his young and soft
appearance would indicate.  It was a sight to behold.

"Change for a five dollar bill?"  I finally asked, after I was able to
speak.

"Yeah, the soft drink machines over there seem to be out of change.  I
was wondering if you could break this five for me?" he replied, holding
out a five dollar bill.

"Uh, gee kid.  I'm sorry.  I left my wallet in my apartment," I said.

"Okay, that's cool.  Thanks away!" the boy said, and walked away from me
toward some lady lying on a long chair across the way who obviously had
her purse sitting on the pool deck beside her.

For a moment I watched, as what had to be the tightest and most perfect
butt in the world walked away from me resting atop a long, slender, pair
of legs that seemed to propel it toward the heavens. It was only when he
had gotten his five dollar bill changed by the lady and disappeared from
view around the corner, and I had rolled back onto my stomach, that I
realized my cock was hard, very hard.

Again, I picked up my book and began to read.  Fortunately, that was
enough distraction, not only to get my mind back together, but other
areas of my body as well.

"You don't mind if I sit over here do you?" a recently familiar voice
asked.

I raised my head, turned it around, and saw that it was the kid in the
yellow Speedo standing there with a canned Coke in his hand.

"Uh no. You can sit anywhere you want.  It's a free country," I replied,
waving my hand around at the other empty chairs close by.

"Cool!"  He said, and promptly plopped himself cross-legged onto the
lounge chair to my left, took a sip from his can of Coke, then flashed a
smile, showing a set of perfect, white, teeth.

"Watcha reading?" he then asked, motioning his head toward the book I
held in my hand.

"Well, it's a historical novel," I replied.

"Oh, history stuff," he responded, as if I had told him I was reading a
book about the mass murder of children.

"You don't like history?" I asked.

"Well, kind of, sort of.  My history teacher was okay last year, she was
fun and made it interesting, but this year my history teacher is a
football coach and all he does is show films and videos."

At that, I burst out laughing, having had more than one of those when I
was his age.

"So you live here?" he asked.

"Yeah, about two weeks now," I replied.

"Yeah, I thought you were new.  I hadn't seen you around here before," he
remarked.

"Well, like I said, I just moved in two weeks ago."

"What apartment?" he asked.

"24 B," I replied.

"Gee, that's the building right across from the one my mom and I live in.
We live in 24 C."

"That's nice!" I replied in a rather droll tone.

The kid took another sip from his can of Coke, then stood up.

"How old you think I am?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Uh, I really hadn't given a thought about it," I replied, averting my
eyes from the prominent bulge in his Speedo.

"Come on, guess!" he insisted.

"Uh, sixteen," I replied, knowing that that was way too old but feeling
that my guess would boost his ego.

"Oh, gosh no!  I just turned fourteen," the five-foot two-inch tall imp
responded.

"I see.  Well, you look older," I replied.

"Uh, thanks.  How old are you, mister?" he asked.

"Well, I'm thirty five, and my name is not Mister, it's Ryan," I replied.

"Mine's Brandon," he said.

"That's nice," I replied, in a rather ho hum manner.

"Thanks!" the kid said.

"Look, Brandon.  It's been a pleasure to meet you, but I really would
like to get back to reading my book," I said, rather curtly.

"Oh gosh!  I'm sorry.  You take care, man," he said, and quickly turned
and sauntered off toward a crowd of boys about his own age down at the
far end of the pool.

It was about a week later that I saw Brandon again.  I had gone out on
the small patio of my apartment to check on the steak I was cooking on
the new grill I had purchased.

"Hey, Ryan!" a young voice hollered from across the way.

I turned my head in the direction from wince the voice had come and was
greeted with the site of Brandon, again dressed only in his yellow
Speedo, smiling and waving at me across the courtyard.

"Hello!"  I shouted back, making a small waving motion with my free hand
that didn't contain the metal tongs and then turned my attention back to
the steak that was cooking on the grill.

Over the next couple of weeks, I saw Brandon every time I went to the
apartment pool.  The kid seemed to live there.  Any conversation usually
amounted to a friendly hello or some question from him about what I was
reading.  Then, one Friday afternoon, he again plopped himself down upon
an empty lounge chair just to my right as I was sunning myself.

"Hey, Ryan.  What's up?" he asked, the moment he plopped himself down,
brushing his long hair back with both hands.

"Uh, not much."  I replied.

"Ryan, can I ask you something?"

"Uh, yeah sure."

"Do you think I look too much like a girl?"

"Why'd you ask that?" I said.

"Well, some of the guys say with my long hair and all I look like a
girl."

"Uh, well.  Not many guys wear their hair long these days.  But, you most
certainly couldn't be mistaken for a girl," I replied, thinking to myself
that if nothing else the bulge in the kid's swimsuit should answer that
question for anyone who had doubts.

"Thanks!" he said, brushing his long, blonde, strands of hair back behind
his ears so they hung down his back, and then smiled.

"Don't mention it."  I replied, and shifted my position somewhat upon the
lounge chair.

"Since you ain't readin anything you mind if I ask you somethin else?"

"Sure, go ahead," I said, putting my hands behind my head and closing my
eyes against the bright sunlight.

"Why do you shave your stomach and chest?" he asked.

"Huh?"  I replied, opening my eyes quickly, startled by his question.

"I was just wondering why you shave your stomach and chest?"

"Uh, look, Brandon.  That's kind of a personal question to be asking
someone," I responded.

"Hey, that's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was just
wondering."

"Well, if you must know, I do it because I think it looks good.  All I
leave is this," I replied, pointing to the dark brown trail that went
downward from my navel to the top of my swim trunks.

"That's cool.  I shave my pubes.

"Brandon, you shouldn't be telling anyone that, especially someone my
age," I replied, shocked not only by the bluntness of his revelation but
by the fact that my cock had immediately surged in my shorts as I
mentally visualized what his obviously abundant equipment would look like
protruding from a hairless groin.

"Sorry!" he responded.

"That's okay.  Now I'd really like to get some sun," I said, and put my
hands behind my head again and closed my eyes, hoping that the kid would
go away.

"Okay, yeah, sure.  She yah later!" he said, and got up from the lounge
chair.

I opened my eyes again, briefly, and watched Brandon amble off toward the
direction of some empty lounge chairs, then closed them again to enjoy
the soothing warmth of the sun.

As I lay there, again the mental image of a naked Brandon filled my
brain.  As it did so, my cock rapidly began to harden at the thought of
what he actually must look like without even his yellow Speedo on.
Mentally, I visualized him standing before me, his hands on his hips, his
rigid penis jutting out from his smooth hairless groin. Quickly, I
adjusted my now hard eight-inch cock in my swim trunks, and rolled over
onto my stomach in order to hide the obvious tent that had developed in
my trunks.

Once I was satisfied that my cock had softened enough so as not to be
obvious, I quickly grabbed my towel and headed for my apartment, taking
note of the fact that Brandon was no where in sight among the other
tenants about the pool.

That evening, and although it was a Friday night, I didn't feel like
going out to any of the clubs so I occupied myself watching a re-run of
"The Beast Master" on HBO.  Sated by the sight of all the loin cloths and
exposed male flesh than I could stand, and mellowed out by more than a
few glasses of Scotch and soda, I turned off the television, dimmed the
living room lights, and headed toward the patio doors in order to close
the drapes.  Only then did I notice that the drapes that normally were
closed over the patio doors in the apartment across the way were drawn
open.

Even though there was a twenty-foot expanse between my apartment and the
one Brandon shared with his mom, I could clearly see him in the light
moving around in the living room across the way.  He was obviously
watching something on the television, I could see the flicker but not the
screen, and he seemed to be doing some strange dance around the living
room.

Mesmerized by the erotic nature of his motions, I quickly backed away
from the patio doors and went over and dimmed the living room lights even
more so that I was in total darkness.  Naturally, total darkness afforded
me an even better view of the strange goings on in the apartment across
the way.

The range of erotic motions increased and Brandon began to hunch his hips
and wiggle his butt in time to whatever he was watching.  It was when he
slowly pulled off his tee shirt, his butt undulating in circular motions
that it hit me what the kid was doing.

"He's doing a fucking strip tease!"  I exclaimed softly under my breath.

The pace of my breathing increased, as did the pounding of my heart, as I
watched the sexy imp strip his clothes off like a professional stripper.
It was when he removed the last article that he wore, the ever-present
yellow Speedo, that I glimpsed in reality what I had visualized in my
mind.

No yet hard, the kid's circumcised penis flopped about along with his
plum-sized balls as he continued his erotic motions.  Even at a distance,
I quickly surmised that when erect his penis would have to be at least
six inches in length, maybe slightly more, when it protruded from his
bare groin.

My mouth grew dry as Brandon began to wank his dick in time to whatever
music he must be listening to, all the time undulating his butt and
making hunching motions with his hips.  Quickly, I re-positioned my
leather-covered lounge chair so that it faced the glass doors.  Then, I
sat down to watch the show.

Involuntarily, my hand reached into my shorts and I pulled out my
hardening cock, and though separated by twenty feet or more, the youthful
teen and I began to jerk off together.

Occasionally, he would position his body so that he faced the glass doors
of the patio full on so that he faced squarely in my direction.  Finally,
as I stroked my throbbing member, he remained in that position and began
to fuck his hand with his dick, making sure that his hips moved forward
and back with each thrust. I moaned in response, for it was as if he was
fucking his dick at me across the courtyard.

Soon, I noticed his face begin to contort.  The motions of his hips
become more frantic and his mouth opened wide in a silent scream, leaving
me to imagine the sounds that were being emitted.

Instantly, I felt the cum begin to boil up in my balls. Then, as cum
splotches began to splatter on the glass doors across the way, for me
that was all it took.  hollered and shot the biggest load I had shot in
years all over my face, chest, and stomach.

Spent, I sat in the chair breathing heavily, and moaned, immediately
wanting to cum again as Brandon began to lick up his cum that was now
running in streams down the glass of the patio doors.

For a month, every Friday night at midnight, the ritual would repeat
itself.  Yet, around the pool, or when I ran into Brandon in other places
around the apartment complex, the kid gave no hint that he knew I was
watching his performances.

The second time, for the finale, the imp jerked off into his hand then
lapped up his own offering as if he were a kitten lapping at a bowl of
milk, my cries went unheard through the patio doors as I blew another
load all over myself.

The third time was even more dramatic, and I howled like a banshee and
blew my load, as the kid did a head over heels upon the carpet and shot
his own cum into his mouth.  However, nothing could have prepared me for
the fourth time.

That Friday night, Brandon was especially erotic with his movements.
They were much slower and seemed to be even more deliberate than before
as he did his usual strip tease.  Then, as he began to wank his dick,
even that was slower and more prolonged.

I gasped, when he disappeared from view, fearing that something had gone
wrong or that I had been seen.  Then, I uttered a soft sigh of relief as
Brandon reappeared into view.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, as I noticed the gleaming object he held in his
right hand.

It was a large cucumber all shinny and slicked up with what I did not
know.

I sat stupefied as Brandon did an erotic dance with the vegetable,
inserting as much of it as he could into his mouth and rubbing it across
his chest over his groin and up and down the length of his hard penis.

My breathing became deeper and faster as I watched, not daring to hope
what would be the ultimate destination of the slippery, green, object.
There was no way!  He couldn't!  I wasn't sure if even I could, not
having been fucked in years.
Yet, indeed the finale for the evening became apparent soon enough.

Standing and facing the patio doors, Brandon spread his long legs far
apart and squatted down some.  Then, taking hold of the slimy green
objected with his right hand he moved it under him and toward where I
couldn't believe he was going to let it venture.

Pre-cum leaked from my cock like a faucet as the scene began to unfold
before my eyes.  In fact, I was afraid to even touch my cock for fear of
shooting my load the moment I laid a hand on it.

At first, there was just the slightest hint on the kid's face that
something was amiss.  Then, his mouth opened slightly and he bit his
lower lip.  I groaned in response, for I realized the tip of the green
missile was beginning to invade his rectum.

Ever so slowly, more and more of the thick, green, vegetable disappeared
up the kid's hole as I watched.  I noticed his legs began to tremble and
his stomach began to heave steadily at the invasion, while his face
contorted into a multitude of anguished expressions.  Yet, he continued
onward, pressing more and more of the slimy green object into his rectum
until nothing was visible but the hand that had inserted it.  Then, his
eyebrows furrowing with each thrust and biting his lower lip, he began to
fuck himself with the green tube with his right hand and masturbate his
penis with his left.

Soon, Brandon changed positions and lay down upon the floor, spread his
legs wide with his feet flat upon the floor, and then began to fuck his
butt and masturbate in that position.  I had a clear few of his butt as
he buggered his bottom, and as he did so he began to hunch his hips.

I broke into a sweat at the lurid scene, a thousand questions running
through my mind as to how it was possible that the fourteen-year-old was
so intent on sodomizing himself. Yet, those thoughts were overcome by
others that would have been unthinkable to me a month before.

I visualized that it was my cock traveling in and out of the young boy's
chute, rather than some slimy vegetable, and that his facial contortions
were a result of my eight-inch rod traveling deep into his innermost
regions.  As I did so, I gripped my aching dick and began to masturbate
in order to seek relief, much as young Brandon was doing across the way.
It didn't take long for either of us to achieve our goal.

Brandon's brows soon furrowed deeper, and then his mouth opened wide, in
an obvious cry of pleasure unheard by me because of the glass doors.
Seconds later, it was I that added my own unheard cry of relief,
instantly blowing my load the moment Brandon started fucking his hips
wildly and spraying sperm all over his upper torso.

I didn't see Brandon at all that next week.  It was as if the
blonde-haired imp had fallen off the edge of the earth.  Friday night
came and I settled into my chair around midnight to watch the impending
show, wondering what new feast the boy had for my hungry eyes.

Midnight came and the drapes across the way remained closed.  One o'clock
came. Nothing!  Two o'clock approached.  No Brandon!  My heart sank like
a stone.

Mentally, I admonished myself for my disappointment and for having such
feelings and I went to bed, only to masturbate and blow my load some
moments later visualizing the youth sucking my cock.

"Hey, Ryan. What's up?" a familiar voice asked as I lay by the pool the
following Saturday.

"Well hello, Brandon.  I thought maybe you had moved or something," I
replied as I turned over and saw the youthful vixen standing at the foot
of the lounge I was lying on dressed in the ever-present yellow Speedo.

"Nah! Mom and I spent a week with my Aunt down in Miami," he said.

"I see.  Well, I hope you had fun."

"Yeah, it was okay.  Did you miss me?" he asked.

"Well, yes. It did seem kinda strange around here not seeing you," I
responded.

"Cool!  I'm glad you missed me.  Hey, can I ask you something?" he said,
and sat down on the end of the lounge, that golden body of his inches
away from my legs.

"Sure, go ahead," I replied.

"Which did yah miss most, seeing me around the pool or watching me
through the window?" he asked.

My heart leapt into my throat at the boy's question.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that," he said, then placed his
hand on my lower leg.

The kid's touch of his hand against my skin was electric.  It was as if
someone had jolted me with a stun gun.

"Look, Brandon.  I don't have the slightest idea what you mean," I said,
and moved my leg away from his hand.

"Tell me, Ryan.  Which did you enjoy most, me eating my own cum or
putting the cucumber up my butt?" he asked bluntly, then smiled.

Again, my heart skipped a beat.  He knew!  I was horrified.

"Brandon!  You shouldn't even be saying shit like that around me or
anyone else!" I exclaimed.

"Hey, it's okay.  I know," he said, and placed his hand on my leg again.

"I have no idea what you think you know.  Now really, I must be going," I
said, and began to get up off of the lounge chair to gather my things and
beat a hasty retreat to the safety of my apartment.

"I did all that for you, you know," he said in an almost disappointed
tone as I rose from the lounge.

I looked into his eyes.  I knew he knew.  He knew I knew he knew.  I sat
back down upon the lounge.

"Look, Brandon.  I could get into a lot of trouble even discussing such
things with you," I said in a serious tone.

"It was hot, huh?" he asked.

What could I say?  How could I answer him?

"Yes, Brandon.  It was hot.  Now really, I don't think we should talk
about this anymore, and I don't think you should be doing that stuff
anymore," I replied.

"You got off to it huh?" he asked, then grinned.

"Brandon, look.  I really gotta go.  This has gone too far," I replied,
and rose up off of the lounge again.

"I can tell yah did.  You did didn't yah?" he asked.

I looked down at him.  He had a look of expectation on his face, waiting
for me to state the obvious.

"Yes, Brandon.  I'm ashamed to say that I did," I said.

"Why should yah be ashamed?  I did it for you and I knew you was
watchin," Brandon said.

What was I to say?  How could I explain?  I sat back down upon the
lounge.

"Brandon, you might get in some sort of trouble for what you did.  You
might get grounded or punished in some other way.  Either way, what could
happen to me would be far worse.  I could go to jail, maybe even prison,"
I said.

"For just watching me do something I was doing because I wanted to?" he
asked.

"Yes!  It's your age, Brandon.  The laws don't take too kindly to men
that have anything to do, of a sexual nature, with boys your age."

"That's stupid!"

"Well, whether or not you think it's stupid doesn't matter.  The fact is,
I could get into a whole lot more trouble than you."

"You don't like me, huh? You think I'm just an ugly little kid or
somethin."

At his words, my mind became overwhelmed with a multitude of conflicting
emotions.  I groped for a rationale response.  It wasn't.

"Oh Christ, Brandon!  I think you are absolutely the most beautiful boy I
ever laid eyes on in my life!" I blurted out, unable to control the
undeniable truth from pouring out of my mouth.

"I really knew yah didn't think I was ugly or nothin.  I was just teasing
yah," he replied, then grinned.

"Look, Brandon.  I really have to go.  This has gone way too far!"

"Can't we just sit and talk.  Nobody is gonna think you're doing nothing
out here," he said, rolling his eyes and motioning at the entire pool
area with his hand.

"Brandon, you see that lady over there?"  I asked, motioning my head
toward a blonde lady lying on one of the lounge chairs on the other side
of the pool.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, she has been very intent on watching you and me."

"She's reading a book," Brandon responded, having looked over toward her.

"Well, when she thinks neither of us is noticing her see is very much
watching you and me.  Does she know your mom?"  I asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Brandon replied.

"Then, that's my point.  I suspect it won't be long before your mom asks
you who the man is at the pool you've been talking to.  Then, what are
you going to say?"  I asked.

"Gosh, I don't know," Brandon replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"You see my point?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Brandon responded, a dejected tone in his voice.

I gave my apologies and excused myself for the final time that day
feeling comfortable that Brandon understood what I had explained to him.

I was wrong!

To be Continued.