Date: Thu, 11 Oct 2007 19:26:33 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Adams <mark.stories@yahoo.com> Subject: Temptation of Adam - Chapter 11 Disclaimer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content between underage and adult males which may be inappropriate or illegal where you live. I do not condone the actions or choices of the fictional characters contained within this story. If you are offended by this or if it is illegal where you live, please go no further. Why would you? ....I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid. Gen. 3:10 ....From the last chapter... After about a minute, he eased out of my mouth, plopping back onto my lap, sighing. I rubbed his smiling cheek, noticing a little smear from my cum-soaked fingers. I ran my fingers through his mussed hair. He sat there, his chest heaving for another minute, before scooting off my lap and leaning forward, unexpectedly taking my shaft into both his small hands... and the head of my still hard, cum soaked cock into his mouth. He began swirling his tongue around my head, making a tight suction around the first two inches or so of my shaft when the doorbell rang... Temptation of Adam - Chapter 11 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Adam lifted off my cock and looked at me as if to say, "Did something just happen?" But he said nothing. He didn't look nervous or frightened, he just looked at me blankly. I began to wonder if I'd actually heard anything at all or if I had imagined it. I could hear my pulse in my ears and I figured I must have gotten carried away. "Did you hear something?" I asked Adam nervously, hoping he hadn't. He cocked his head as if to listen, one hand still lightly clutching my cock... "Uh," he started, followed by a protracted pause, "I *thought* I did. I thought I heard a doorbell." And then, as if saying it made it true, the doorbell rang again, and we both jumped, startled. "Oh, shit!" I exclaimed quietly. "Someone's here!" Adam was now frozen in place, his eyes wide with fear. "Come on!" I told him. "M-m-maybe they'll just go away?" he asked. "Adam!" I said, starting to panic. He sensed the urgency and climbed off my lap, with me helping as I stood up from the couch. He ran down the hall and I heard a door close somewhat loudly. I pulled my shirt on as I ran to my bedroom, scrambling to put on a pair of underwear and jeans over my now very flaccid cock. I went to the front door, and I could see movement through the glass block which lined my double front entry doors. The distorted glass made it look like I was peering into a kaleidoscope and someone, whoever it was, was trying to look through from the other side. The doorbell rang for the third time and, flustered, I looked around to be certain Adam wasn't in sight. I approached the door. I was still a bit nervous, given that a 10 year old boy and I had just been sucking each other's dicks in front of the uncovered glass block, but I was also enraged that my uninvited guest hadn't taken a hint. I looked out the peephole in my door and saw... my mother? I thought about hiding and pretending I wasn't home, but she had almost certainly seen movement as I approached the door. I straightened my clothes and opened the door enough to look out. I saw my mother standing there, dressed for church. "What are you *doing* here, Mom?" I asked, more than a little ire in my voice. "What do you mean what am I doing here?" she asked, trying to lay on the mother-guilt. "I always come over before church." She looked hurt. "What?" I asked, incredulous. "What do you mean you always come over before church? Since when?" In all the time I'd lived here, I could only remember her coming over before church a few times. My routine was that I went to the gym every morning, and on Sundays I would shower at the gym, returning home with just enough time to change before heading off to church. We often did something after church, but not before. "Aren't you going to ask me in?" she inquired, evading the question and poking her head around as if to see who was in the house, or what I was doing. She was trying to look around me without any luck. "Well, I was actually just going to get ready for church," I lied. "Maybe I should just meet you there." I'm just so clever sometimes. "Well don't let me get in your way," she said. Too late, Mom. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how to get rid of my mother without hurting her feelings. She pressed on the door. Not forcefully, mind you, since she knew I could probably pick her up and throw her on the roof. But she also knew I never would (though I was considering it). She was just pushing enough to let me know she didn't appreciate being left out on the front porch. And, I suppose, to determine if I was hiding something. When I didn't open the door for her, she asked "Is there someone here? Am I interrupting anything?" Yes and yes, of course, but I wasn't going to admit that. "Uh, no. There's nobody here." I probably should have told some version of the truth, but I was having some difficulty with that as of late. "I thought I heard someone. Do you have a girl in there with you?" she asked, just like the nosy mom I knew her to be. "Oh... I'm sorry. I... well I just didn't know." That was my proverbial second chance, and I blew it. Despite her horror of me having premarital sex, I think a part of her was hopeful I'd finally found a girl. If I would have just said there was, she probably would have left. I'd never have heard the end of it, but it was probably better than her barging in and discovering Adam. "No, mom. There is no girl." Shouldn't I be rewarded for telling the truth for a change? At that moment, Casey decided to poke her head out the front door, took a step out, and sat in front of my mother. She looked down at the cat and her face became quite confused. "Did you get a cat, Mark?" She knew I didn't like cats, and neither did she. "What are you doing with a cat?" "It's a friend's cat, Ma," I told her. 'My ten year old lover's cat' just didn't roll off the tongue. At this point, I saw my father walking around the corner, apparently having parked the car in my driveway, which was not visible from the front door. My goose was cooked... "Enough of this," she said, turning to my father as he approached. "Steven," she called to him, "come talk some sense into your son." My dad saw the look on my face. "Everything alright, son?" he asked as he climbed the porch. "Yes, Dad. Every thing's fine." I was making a deal with God at that moment if only... "You don't look like every thing's fine," he said, looking concerned. And then, as if realizing I must have someone with me, my father said what any good father would say. "Carol, maybe we should just head to church..." He winked at me from behind my mother's shoulder. "Look, Steven," she said accusingly. "he's got himself a cat. Isn't that... interesting?" I could have screamed. I reached down and picked Casey up, and my mother pressed on the door again, opening it up wide enough to look in. "You got a cat?" my dad asked. I thought he was on *my* side, that he was happy I had gotten some pussy. But I guess he wasn't thinking pussy cat. "Dad," I said, exasperated, "it's a friend's cat. I'm just watching her." My mother asked me point blank. "May I come in or not?" She was indignant and I guess, in a way, she was justified. I had never left my parents standing on the front porch or denied them entry into my home. "Carol," my dad started, but she cut him off. "Just for a moment," she said. "I don't know what's going on and I don't think I want to know." Ain't that the truth. "Um..." I couldn't think of a legitimate reason to say no (except for the naked boy somewhere in my house). "Ok," I said slowly, trying to think of what to do. "Just for a minute. I really need to get ready for church." Casey turned around and entered ahead of my mother, and my mom looked at her as if she were a rat. My mother practically barged in and headed for the kitchen She paused, looking at a half-rotten apple on my breakfast bar. "Oh my," she said. "That's not like you at all, Mark." She set her purse on the bar and picked up the apple by the stem and proceeded into the kitchen, throwing it away in the trash. That apple, what it symbolized, made me feel guilty. "I just want to make a quick cup of coffee," she said. "Mom," I said, leaning my elbows against the bar as if beaten down, regretting ever letting her in, "I *really* just need to get ready. I'll catch up with you in a bit." She washed her hands and dried them on a towel. I looked toward the door and my dad had stepped into the entry, his hand still on the doorknob. He looked at me as if to tell me it was my fault for letting her in. He slowly closed the door behind himself and made his way down the entry hall and into the family room. "Come on, Carol," he said. "Let's get going. We can get some coffee on the way." Casey had hopped up onto the arm of the couch, apparently in a stare-down with my father as he entered the family room. "Just a cup," she said. She was rifling through the cabinets, and I noticed her eyes were darting here and there, no doubt looking for some sort of evidence that I was, in fact, not alone. At this point, I was about to just yell at my mother, demanding she leave. But... My father cleared his throat. "Carol, let's..." he began softly, then raising his voice slightly in a tone that meant he was serious. Let's get going." My father was not one to stutter or stammer. He was still staring at Casey. My mother weighed her options and apparently decided not to tangle with Dad. "Oh, fine," she said, picking up her purse. "I just need to use the restroom and we'll be on our way." She walked past me in a huff, clutching her purse as if I were a mugger, toward the guest bathroom. My mind flashed to a naked Adam who had headed that direction, and I started after her to head her off. But as I walked into the family room, I froze. And I saw where my father was looking. And it was not at Casey. On the cushion of the couch, next to the still damp cum stains on the leather, were a small pair of little boy giraffe underwear, wedged part way between the cushion and the arm of the couch where Casey sat. His eyes raised from the couch to me, searching me for an answer to an unasked question, a question I prayed would never be asked... ------------------------------------------------------------------------ To be continued... ------------------------------------------------------------------------