Date: Mon, 22 Mar 2010 16:21:57 -0400
From: Lee Mariner <mariner23502@hotmail.com>
Subject: Toby and Chris

Toby & Chris

Copyright 2010

By Lee Mariner



This erotic story is intended for ADULT READERS ONLY.  If you are not of
legal age in your locality, or should you disapprove of such material,
PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.


This story is copyrighted by the author and may not be copied or reproduced
in any manner or on any web site without the specific written consent of
the author.  ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

mariner23502@hotmail.com

*****************************

PROLOGUE

Retirement...the time we all dream about, that day when the alarm clock can
be thrown into the trash.  Visions of travel to distant places that we had
only dreamed about become seemingly only a plane ticket away.  Weekends
will be free of the drudgery of lawn maintenance and the trimming of bushes
along with the cultivating of flowerbeds.  At our leisure, it can now be
done on any day except the weekend. Weekends are for golfing or going to
the outer banks to party with friends and acquaintances.

My name is Brett Perry; I am a gay man, and I retired at age sixty-five but
this story starts when I was fifty-two years old. Being gay and alone for
the most part, I mainly concentrated on insuring that my future years would
be comfortable and gave little thought to having a companion or partner.
To be sure, I had several gratifying relationships over the years; but my
main concern was future security.  Most of those that I was involved with
seemed more interested in, if I may quote Yul Brunner from The King and I,
"flitting from blossom to blossom, collecting all of the honey they can."
That type of attitude was not what I felt a lasting, life-long relationship
could be founded on.

With a good diet and plenty of exercise, the years had treated me well. I
weighed in at a compact, still well muscled, one hundred sixty-five pounds
with very little body fat for a man six foot tall.  Fortunately, I still
had a shock of thick wavy dark brown hair that was showing speckles of gray
that matched the gray of my eyes.

I bought a home in a quiet but older and established neighborhood a few
years after graduating from college, having lived in an apartment for more
years than I care to remember.  It didn't take long after starting my
career in finance to learn that by renting I was making some unknown
landlord-investor rich, and the rental would serve me more if invested in
the purchase of a home.

Investing in my home regardless of having the added cost of upkeep would at
least have a built-in return on equity.  In my mind, this reason plus the
combined frustrations of being gay and having nosey apartment neighbors was
reason enough to make the move.

It did not take long after moving and settling in to learn that my new
neighbors were quiet and unassuming people who were friendly, very helpful
when asked and didn't try to put their noses in their neighbors' lives.  We
had occasional community cookouts, and the conversations were usually
mostly about the condition of the neighborhood and what could be done to
improve it.  Personal lives were not, by and large, discussed.  I did not
live flamboyantly, having only exclusive parties with my gay friends, but I
did have an occasional mixed dinner party with gay and lesbian friends.
Occasionally there were cocktail parties with some of my closest friends;
but they, like me, were professionals and discreet.

*****************************

CHAPTER ONE

In the middle of November, some three years or so after I had become
established and involved in the neighborhood activities, a new family whose
name I later learned was Nicholson moved into a large house two doors from
me.  They had a young towheaded, almost flaxen haired, boy and a girl who
looked to be older but whose hair was a darker shade of blonde.  Our local
civic league had a welcome wagon committee that greeted new families; but,
in addition to the visit by the committee, it had become our habit that,
whenever a new family moved on our block, we would invite them to a
cookout.  It was a sort of "welcome to the neighborhood" thing even though
most of us knew something about them through the members of the welcome
wagon committee.  At a cookout, we felt that the Nicholson's could meet
their neighbors in a more casual and neighborly atmosphere.

I had spoken briefly with Mrs. Janet Nicholson when I was out tending my
lawn.  She was walking with her children when she saw me and nodded. I
turned off a very noisy lawnmower; and, after introducing myself, I
welcomed her to the neighborhood; and she introduced herself and her
children.  Her son, Toby, appeared to be at the threshold of his pubescent
years, all boy; and her daughter, Claris, seemed very shy in contrast to
her brother.  We spoke briefly about the neighborhood and she mentioned
that her husband, Chris, was in the Navy and that they had just transferred
from San Diego, California.

"Your husband was one of the men that I saw unloading the moving van." I
asked, curious as to the way she sort of left him out of the family when
introducing them.

"He was the big blonde ox with the muscles.  He's been assigned to an
aircraft carrier instead of the shore assignment we were hoping for." She
answered, paying more attention to her children than what she was saying,
and I detected a hint of disappointment in her tone.

I had heard men called by the name she had used but not from someone I had
just met, and it surprised me that she would use the term with a virtual
stranger.  "Big ox?" I said, looking at her and raising my eyebrows
slightly.

"Yes, that's his nickname; but I guess I should have called him by his
name, 'Chris'.  He is so big that I forget and call him an ox or a big lug
every now and then when I shouldn't," she answered, stammering and blushing
with embarrassment.

"That's okay, Janet.  He did look pretty good sized when I saw him running
in and out of the moving van, and I promise that I'll avoid calling him
'big ox' when we meet," I said laughing airily, hoping to lighten the mood.
"We are delighted to have you and your family in the neighborhood; and, I'm
sure you will enjoy living here.  If there is any way that I can help, just
let me know," I offered.

"Thanks, Mr. Perry, I appreciate the offer; and I'm sure we will enjoy
living here," she replied as she edged away to continue her walk pulling
the kids with her as she did.

"Please call me 'Brett', Janet, not 'Mr. Perry'," I replied, bending to
re-start the lawnmower and give her more of an excuse to leave.

************************

Except for an occasional glimpse when they were arriving or leaving their
home, I saw very little of the Nicholson's and their children until about
mid June when we had our first cookout of the season after the schools had
closed for the summer and before most of the families left on their
vacations.  It was, as always, a casual almost impromptu affair where the
host supplied the beer and soft drinks along with a grill.  We rotated the
use of each other's backyards and those attending, other than the host,
provided a covered dish. The first one of this summer would be in Jim's
backyard, and the next would normally be held on Labor Day weekend when
everyone was usually home from the family's summer vacations.  In the
interim we occasionally held a Fourth of July cookout, but it was not as
heavily attended, and I usually made it a point to visit friends on Fire
Island over that particular holiday.

Most of our neighbors had arrived with their potluck contributions when the
Nicholson family arrived.  Chris, the gorgeous blonde hunk that I had seen
when they had moved in, was walking behind his wife and daughter with his
hand casually resting on Toby's shoulder; and not only was I struck by
Chris's size but also by the striking resemblance between father and
son. He wore cut-off denim shorts and a tight yellow sleeveless pullover
that, if it was intended to, did nothing to hide the thickness of his
biceps or his magnificently muscled chest.  He was wearing flat-soled
sandals and appeared to be maybe one hundred ninety or two hundred pounds
of solid muscle and about six feet two or three inches tall. The top of
Toby's head reached to just above his waist, and their features were so
strikingly alike that there could never be any mistaking that they were
father and son.

Janet was carrying a covered dish, and Clarisse was following her carrying
a 7-11 Big Gulp even though I was sure that when they had been invited they
had been told refreshments other than the covered dishes would be provided.
As soon as Janet placed her dish on the table, Miss Emma Pierce, our local
spinster immediately corralled them and I smiled to myself out of sympathy,
remembering when I had first moved into the neighborhood.

Emma had the reputation of being man hungry and would always make it her
business to become acquainted with any young men who moved in. I can attest
to her reputation's validity having undergone several of her off the cuff
but always-inquisitive meetings.  She finally gave up on me, and I was
fortunate that she was not a gossip and hadn't formed any reasons as to why
I never succumbed to her unwanted advances.

I was lost in thought and didn't hear Jim until he punched me in the ribs,
saying, "I see Emma is up to her old tricks again, Brett.  That boy better
get away from there before she eats him alive."

"I don't know about that, Jim; he looks old enough and big enough to take
care of himself," I chuckled, glancing at Chris and then his wife. "Janet
is a good looking woman, and I doubt she will let Emma come between her and
Chris."

********************************

I had never been attracted to younger men or boys; but for some
inexplicable reason I found my gaze, unconsciously, drifting to where Toby
was shuffling around close to his parents looking here and there but no
place in particular while he drank his soft drink.  His clothing fit
snugly, probably from growing, but he seemed to be filling out quickly for
a youngster his age.  The silky fine golden hair on his arms, legs and head
gleamed in the sunlight; and it didn't take much of an examination to see
that he was well-boned, and in time would be an extremely good-looking man
if what could be seen in his father was an example.

I was talking with another neighbor who had joined Jim and me when I heard
my name spoken from behind me, "Mr. Perry;" and I turned to see Chris
Nicholson and his children standing behind where I was sitting. "Hi,
Chris," I said casually, gulping and trying to divert my eyes from the
eye-level bulge in the crotch of his shorts. "I noticed you and your family
come in a while ago," I said as I stood and shook his hand. "Are you
enjoying our little fete and meeting your new neighbors?"

"Yeah, thanks for inviting us," he answered, in a soft sexy baritone.
"Janet's over there talking with some of the women about stuff that's out
of my league.  That lady over there," he said nodding in the direction of
Emma, "was about to talk our heads off.  She seems nice enough; but, man,
she does get a little personal. I noticed you sitting here when we came in,
and I sort of used you as an excuse to get away from her. I hope you don't
mind."

"Of course not," I answered exuberantly trying, with little success, to
suppress the feelings that were building in my groin.  "It's been a long
winter; and we really haven't had much of a chance to get to know one
another, what with work, the weather and all," I said.

"Tell me about it.  I've been transferred before, but this is my first
carrier tour. Trying to get adjusted to the differences between small
commands and one as large as this and to North Atlantic operations is
rough," he answered, grinning and trying to coax his offspring in front of
him. "You've met Toby and Clarisse; haven't you?"

"Oh yes, we've met.  They and, you wife were out walking one day last fall
while you were away and, we introduced ourselves," I replied as I extended
my hand to the children. "How have you been, Toby, Clarisse? Do you like
your new school?"

Without hesitation, Toby stepped forward and, placing his hand in mine,
promptly announced, "I don't like school but I gotta go; don't I, Dad?"

"I'm afraid you must, Toby; we all have to go to school," I said, answering
for Chris and then smiling an apology for being so presumptuous, looking up
and gazing into the electric-blue depths of his eyes and at the immense
bulge in his groin.

I was momentarily mesmerized by the magnificent golden male animal looking
down on me and by the beauty of his male offspring until Toby's words
brought me back to reality.

"Claris goes to school, but we don't go together.  She's thirteen years
old, and I`ll be twelve pretty soon, so that's why we are in different
rooms," he said looking first at his sister and then up at all six feet or
so of Chris towering over him.

Chris flashed a brilliant smile of approval at Toby's straight forwardness
and ran his fingers through the boy's golden locks while I stretched my
hand out to Clarisse.  She stepped backwards; and, moving behind Chris, she
peeped around his hip at me.  He tried to coax her to come to me, but she
resisted, and I looked at him and said, "Please, Chris, don't force her.
It's probably good that she is a little shy.  We'll get to know each other
later on; won't we, Claris?" I said, hoping for an answer but not getting
one.

"Maybe she will get over being so shy, Brett, but I'm not sure. Sometimes,
I wish Toby was a little less outgoing than he is.  He fears no one, and
that worries me," he said, fondly placing his thickly muscled arm around
his son's shoulders and then looking at me again. "By the way, you don't
mind if I call you 'Brett'; do you?" He asked, looking at me with a twinkle
in his electric blue eyes while he absentmindedly lifted his hand from
Toby's shoulders and ran his fingers through his thick golden mop.

"Brett" is fine; Chris, in fact I prefer it to being addressed as
'Mr. Perry'.  Right now though, I think your wife is looking for you," I
said, shifting my gaze over his shoulder and nodding in his wife's
direction.

He looked in the direction I was nodding; and then turning back, he looked
at me with a hint of sadness in his eyes before wearily saying, "She is,
but I was hoping not this soon. We've got to drive up to see her parents in
Delaware. She wanted to leave earlier, but I insisted on meeting some of
our neighbors before we left.  Sometimes I think she uses trips to her
parents to avoid things I like doing," he sighed. "Maybe we can get
together for a beer or something before the summer is over?"

"I hope so, Chris, anytime. Bring the family over if you like," I replied,
surprised at his lack of discretion concerning a difference between him and
his wife but noticing the tone of resignation in his voice.

"I'm not sure about my wife and Claris, Brett;" he said as he glanced
quickly in the direction of his advancing wife, "but Toby and I should be
able to get away if you don't mind him tagging along."

"Not at all, Chris, anytime you feel like you need to get away or you want
to talk, come on over. I've got a Bow-flex system, some free standing
weights set up, and, a hot tub that I am sure Toby would enjoy.  I work out
a couple of times a week and we could work out together if you would
like. Just give me a call, I'm usually available," I answered almost biting
my tongue at the unconscious verbally suggestive slip.

A smile spread over his face as he looked at me with a twinkle in his
electric-blue eyes; and he answered smoothly, "Thanks, Brett, we will take
you up on that; won't we, Toby?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the boy's typically noncommittal answer of
"unh, huh" as if what ever his Dad had said was okay by him. There seemed
to be a hint of mystery in the way Chris had accepted my invitation to
visit but I shrugged it off.

*******************************

I watched as they walked away, and I noticed that as soon as Clarisse's
mother reached them she let go of Chris's hand and took her mother's while
Toby continued walking with Chris.  The Nordic strain in Chris and Toby was
very obvious, but Janet and Claris both had darker blond hair.

Except for the difference in age, Toby was a miniature of his father.
Toby, like Chris was wearing a tight yellow sleeveless shirt and skintight
white shorts.  Their golden blonde hair was short and neatly trimmed; and,
while Toby was entering the clumsy adolescent stage, it was obvious from
his compact stature that, with dedication and his father's training; he
would develop into a handsome young man.  Chris's tight fitting shirt
revealed his thickly muscled broad shoulders, beautifully sculpted chest
muscles and a hard flat stomach and thick-ridged abdominal muscles, the
classic six-pack.  His waist was small, and he had a tight bubble butt with
well-proportioned thighs and calves covered lightly with silky golden hair.
It was obvious that he had put in a lot of time at a gym and, took pride in
his physical appearance.

When they reached the fence gate, Toby turned around, waving in my
direction.  I returned his wave, and Chris turned his head to look in the
direction Toby was waving.  He saw me waving, and he smiled as he ushered
Toby through the gate.  After Toby was clear, he turned around again to
close and lock the gate.  Before he did though, he inhaled deeply
increasing the sculpted definition of his chest muscles; and then as he
exhaled, he ran his hand over his flat stomach sliding his fingers under
the waistband of his shorts while he adjusted his very prominent package
with the other.  His hand lingered teasingly for a moment on the exciting
bulge, and then reaching for the gate he closed it, turning quickly and
jogging to catch up with his family.

My cock was crammed in my crotch so hard it ached, and my heartbeat and
breathing had quickened slightly. My mind was in a whirl trying to
correlate Chris's actions and words when Jim leaned over and said quietly,
"it looks like he's taken a liking to you, Brett."

Jim was a few years older than I, and he and his wife were my immediate
neighbors.  We had gotten to know each other pretty well, and I was sure;
from various conversations that we had had, that Jim suspected I was
homosexual. If he did, he never let on except for an occasional remark such
as the one he had just made. I turned looking at him and saying, "now why
would you think that, Jim?  They live on the other side of you, and you've
talked with him more than I have."

"Yep," He answered, grinning at me.  "Chris is a friendly sort, a lot more
so than his wife.  Irma has tried to be friendly with her, she even took a
cake she baked over to her but she told me his wife is standoffish; and,
seems to think she is better than others," he answered, before getting up
and asking me if I wanted another beer while he was getting one.

"No thanks, Jim, I've had enough.  Besides, there are a couple of things I
need to do at the house," I said, draining the last of the beer I had
before getting up.

"I'll see you later, Brett; but don't forget we've got a golf date tomorrow
at the Club.  Maybe Chris plays, Brett why don't you ask him and see if he
might like to play with us?" He said, waving his arm absentmindedly over
his head as he walked away to get another beer and join his wife.

I waited for another minute or so before leaving, wondering why Jim would
remind me of our golf date or ask me to see if Chris played golf.