Date: Fri, 5 Nov 2010 14:34:13 -0500
From: Dale Dalton <agdad216@gmail.com>
Subject: watcher III

Please be advised that, in the following story, one will find depictions of
sexual activities between minors  and adults. The story itself
and all characters are fictional.


The Watcher III


Ronnie was awakened by the knock.

Then Aunt Mary said through the door.......

"Ronnie, I am leaving in just a few minutes, do you want to come?"

Ronnie had to smile.

"No mam I am still tired."

"OK Sweetie, I should be back by 11 and then we can go to lunch, it's going
to be a beautiful day, and I will take you shopping."

Ronnie lay in his bed listening to the neighborhood waking up. And that was
not all that was waking up. Ronnie reached down to the pouch of his briefs
and felt his cylinder begin to grow against the fabric. Last night was
something he never imagined could happen. How often had Ronnie wanted to be
noticed. How many times had he stood on the fringe wanting to belong.

There is a pecking order to things and first you have to find your place,
and next to want to try to move up. So much of it is about being good at
sports. Whether team or individual getting noticed there is most
important. Ronnie knew he was not as far along as some of the guys. Every
week he would stand in front of the mirror, trying to see if his muscles
had gotten larger, or his pecs were getting more defined.

Ronnie would slide his underwear down and feel how the area above his shaft
was slowly becoming a mix of darker hairs to go the with soft down of
boyhood. Ronnie was maturing, but others were so much farther
along. Stealing looks in the lockerroom whenever possible he wondered who
was the boy who made the most juice, who had the biggest balls to make that
fluid which all boys needed to milk from themselves. So many of the guys in
the lockerroom were probably gigantic when they got hard.

And hard is just what Ronnie was, as he heard his aunt's car pull out of
the driveway.  Now he had the place to himself. Slipping under the elastic
band Ronnie's fingers found his has and begin the ritual that has started
the morning for so many for so long. Closing his eyes, Ronnie harvested
images that always worked for him. Thinking of who might be watching as he
began to move his had. And thinking of watching his friends as they did the
same for themselves. Then reaching to touch. Wanting to share. Exploring
the sensation as resting your hand on a friend close by and helping him,
while helping yourself. And maybe, just maybe, the favor returned. What
could it possibily feel like to have that disconnected hand cup and hold
your jewels and shaft.  It was only a dream.

The Ronnie did what he did most Saturday mornings........  Reaching down,
Ronnie picked up one of his socks. You basic white sock all 13 years olds
wore when they played sports. Slipping the sock over his rock hard cock,
Ronnie rolled on his stomach and began to push against the mattress. Rising
and falling, thrusting and feeling the tingle. Ronnie moved the pillow
between his smooth thighs, and began to go on instinct. About two months
again Ronnie began humping his pillow and quickly learned the intensity was
far stronger when he was not pumping his shaft. He would use his thighs to
hold the softness in place. Arching his back as he would get close. Rocking
and rising against the sensations of the thrusts. His tight young smooth
bottom rishing and falling now. Ronnie threw the covers off as he thighs
clutched the pillow and held it for his penetrations. A boy learning how do
needs to be done.

The Ronnie remembered last night. The man, the watcher. A pair of eyes
looking right at him. A man seeing that Ronnie was producing fluid. A man
seeing Ronnie pump his young haft until the pulses wetted his skin. The
Ronnie saw the man show his approval in the best way possible. The watcher
became the watched and Ronnie watched his spill his sign of appreciation
feet from where the naked boy lay.

I quiet whimper.

The flood began. Boy juice dampened, then created a soaking spot on the
sock veering Ronnie penis. He had cum again. Yes, Aunt Mary, he thought , I
did want to cum.

Ronnie rolled onto his back and removed the sock, damp with his
product. Placing a finger below his nutsack Ronnie rubbed and worked his
finger up his boy shaft. A drop of milk pushed through his pee slit. His
juice, what made him who he was. His shaft remained at full attention as
Ronnie closed his eyes, cupped himself, and dreamed it was another
hand......not his.....supporting his production orbs. Feeling the hairless
globes, now held tight by his scrotum. His thumb and first two fingers went
to the base. Gripping his shaft he closed his eyes and began to pump. His
head was still sensitive, but now, when he had the house to himself he
wanted to just feel the flow again of his internal warmth. Opening his
smooth, pale legs slightly he continued to pump himself.  Not quite 5
inches and cut, Ronnie felt the steel of his young boyhood as he slowly
began to find his rhythm. His left hand moved to his chest, running over
his nipples and down his flat boy belly. He wanted a 6 pack. He knew when
the time was right he would have that muscle definition. Then people would
look, then they would watch. But now it was only Ronnie. His legs slightly
opened and his right hand going up and down as he worked his rod.

His pale, slender, smooth body rested against the pillow. Ronnie turned,
and became alarmed. There, on both sides of the screen was dried juice. One
side from a boy, one from a man.

Ronnie suddenly realized he would need to clean the screen. Up on his knees
his heart was pounding. He could feel his pulse in his hard boy cock, now
fully exposed to the window. He unlatched the screen at the base, slide off
the bed and went to get dressed.

As happens with many boys as they get in touch with the changes they are
going through they change some of their behavior. Ronnie took the cum
coated sock and sloved it between the mattress and boxspring. Then he found
the shorts his mom had packed. Dark blue polyester. He looked for what
underwear and put on.............then decided the erotic feel of no
underwear would be nice. Outside of the house, a strange neighborhood, and
Ronnie just hanging, letting the air touch the inside of the shorts and let
him be loose.  A sleeveless white T shirt and flip flops and he was out the
door in less than a minute.

Going around to the side of the house he looked for a hose, damn, it was
around back.  Ronnie went through the gate, got the hose and brought it
back. He was bent over screwing the nozzle on.

"Hey."

Ronnie whirled around, mouth and eyes wide open.

"You Ronnie?" asked a smiling kid that Ronnie made for about 16. "I'm C.J.,
you aunt said you would be in. We just moved here about 3 months ago. So
what ya doin?"

"Uh got to kind of clean up, I promised my aunt I would do that. She's gone
and I want to do it before she gets back."

C.J. was probably 5-8, 140. He was a light skinned African-American. By
comparison Ronnie was about 5-2, pushing 100.

"You need a hand?"

Ronnie's heart was pounding. What if C.J. saw the stuff stuck to the screen
and knew what it was! And Ronnie with no underwear on, how stupid was that!
He thought.

"Naw, I'm good, thanks though."

"`K, how long you in town for?"

"I leave on Monday."

"OK, well I think your aunt had plans for us all to do something, so we'll
catch up later."

" Oh, OK, uh great. Later. " Ronnie said.

Shit that was close, I wonder if he knows I jack off? I wonder if he knows
I am about to wash cum off the screen that I shot last night?  I bet he
knows and he was just not letting me know he knows. The thoughts poured
into Ronnie's head.

He went and turned on the water. Ronnie adjusted the spray to jet and
leaned the screen against the house. He took aim and passed the water back
and forth against the crusted evidence of last night. Within two minutes it
had washed into the dirt. The evidence was gone. Ronnie shut the water off
and headed in to take a shower.

His secret was safe.

Probably.

Only he and the watcher knew.