Date: Wed, 14 Jun 2000 13:24:00 CDT
From: Tim Foure <timfoure@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Summer of My 15th Year" 34 (adult-youth) (incest)

The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 34

by Tim Foure

copyright 2000

If you are under 18 or not permitted access
to homosexual erotica where you live, then
you should not read this story. The other
usual disclaimers too.
___________

Chapter 34

Thursday morning I was at Steve's before
6:30. It was another foggy morning, even
foggier than it had been on Monday since it
had rained the day before. This time I
didn't startle Steve with my arrival.

"I'm embarrassed about falling asleep
Monday. Not a very good host, was I?"

"No problem, really. I'm glad I could make
the pain go away so you could go to sleep
so easy."

"You did that alright. I didn't wake up
until nearly five o'clock. I wish you'd let
me pay you for that."

"No way. I was just helping out a friend."
I didn't have any problem with talking to
Steve as an equal in spite of his being
more than twice my age.

"You have to let me pay you back somehow.
Do you like having your back rubbed? I
could pay you back that way."

"Yeah, I do. That'd be great."

"I'm not being much of a host now either.
Here am I with a cup of coffee and I
haven't even offered you one."

"That's ok. But I would like one."

We went into the kitchen and he poured me a
cup and refilled his own.

"Mind if we drink it outside? I really like
the fog in the morning."

"No, I like it too. Out where we are it
seems like you're the only people in the
world sometimes."

"Yeah, it seems like that here too when you
can't see any other houses."

We stood in the fog drinking our coffee in
companionable silence. After a few minutes,
Steve said, "You know, I've had quite a few
massages, and I think you did a great job.
I'm guessing you've never had any training,
right?"

I shook my head.

"You must have a natural talent for it. You
went right to the places that hurt and
followed the muscles. I've had professional
massages that didn't do as much good for me
as you did."

"I'm glad. I just did what you said and
felt where the muscles were."

When we finished our coffee, we began by
hanging the gate. We had taken such care
with the setting of the posts that the gate
fit the opening exactly. We thought of that
as a good indicator of how the rest of the
work would go. Starting at the house again,
we began attaching the fencing boards to
the two rails. Steve had rented a nail gun
to attach the boards, relieving us of
having to do much hammering. We discovered
almost immediately that the gun would fire
a nail like a bullet, so we both handled it
carefully. In fact, we might have
progressed more rapidly if we hadn't been
taking such care with the gun.

As it got later, the fog burned off and the
temperature rose. It was a warmer day than
it had been on Monday, so even though what
we were doing wasn't as strenuous, we got
hot and stripped off our shirts early on.
We alternated jobs as we passed each post,
one of us holding the boards in place and
the other firing the nails into it. Because
of what we were doing, we were touching
each other most of the time, and at one
place where there was a large bush Steve
had to press against my back and put his
arms around me or reach between my legs to
hold the gun while I held the board in
place. My dick was very aware of him the
whole time, becoming partially or
completely hard from time to time. When we
finished just before twelve, we were both
dripping wet.

"I'm glad to be done with that," Steve told
me as we were sitting on the edge of the
porch taking off our shoes and socks. "I'd
rather do finishing work than this kind of
thing."

"Doesn't bother me. It's pretty much the
same as lawn work. Sweaty and dirty and
outside."

"Yeah, I guess it is," he said as he stood
up. "But with the fence done, I've got the
privacy to do this." He pushed down his
shorts, stepped out of them, and leaned
over to pick them up. When he stood up, he
spun them around to emphasize he now had a
place out of doors where he didn't have to
wear them.

I was more than half hard and anticipating
a run from the door to the cold shower to
hide the fact until I could force it down.
Once he had taken off his shorts, though, I
felt I ought to do the same. I stood up,
gritted my teeth, and pushed them down. I
noticed as I stood up with them in my hand
that my dick was about as hard as it could
get before it would start to stand away
from my body, which it seemed to be just
about to do. But what helped was Steve
never looked at it at all. As Ted had said,
he just seemed to be one of those guys who
wasn't interested. The same wasn't true of
me. I got a very good look at Steve, whose
dick was in its normal "at ease" state.

"You can have the shower first again," he
told me as he took my shorts out of my
hand. He was leaning over to pick up our
socks and shirts when he added, "This time
I'll dry them too so you don't have to
carry them home wet."

"You don't have to, really. I've got
clothes to change into on my bike."

"I've got a load ready to go. I'll just add
these. I hate to think of them laying there
wet and dirty and you having to carry them
home that way."

Steve was back in the bathroom by the time
I finished my shower. I didn't bother with
the cold water at the end this time,
deciding he had already seen me as near to
being hard as I was now and that he
probably never noticed anyhow. He dried my
back again before handing me the towel and
stepping into the shower. I finished drying
myself and sat on the toilet lid to wait
for him. We were talking off and on about
various subjects. When he came out of the
shower, I got another look at his dick,
which was right below eye level for me. It
almost seemed as if the shaft followed the
curve of his balls so the plump head lay
next to them looking like a half-size
relative.

When he was dry, I followed him into the
bedroom where he opened a drawer and handed
me a pair of shorts. Lunch was a tuna salad
with hard cooked egg, one of my favorites.
We talked about different things, just
chatting really, while we ate. Afterwards
Steve moved the clothes from the washer to
the dryer and we went into the living room.

As I started to sit down in the chair where
I usually sat, Steve asked, "You want to
collect your massage now or wait a while?"

My belly was full and I was relaxed. I
repeated my next thought out loud, "I might
go to sleep on you."

He flashed that smile at me and said,
"Well, if you do, that'd only be fair
anyhow. How long do I let you sleep?"

I thought about how much mowing I had
planned. "Maybe until three, three thirty."

"If it happens, I'll wake you. Stretch out
here."

I lay on the floor on my belly. The carpet
felt softer walking across it than it
turned out to be when I lay on it. I
shifted a little to get comfortable, aiming
my dick upwards so it would have a place to
go when the inevitable erection occurred.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, sure am."

He stepped across me and squatted down,
ending up on his knees with one leg on
either side of me. I felt him settle some
of his weight onto my butt. In my mind's
eye I saw him on top of me, pressing his
butt down on my butt and the insides of his
thighs, bare skin to bare skin, against the
sides of my belly. And as if that wasn't
enough, when he leaned forward slightly to
take hold of my shoulders, I imagined it
was his balls and the head of his dick that
I felt pressing against the small of my
back. My dick forced its way upward between
my belly and the floor.

Steve began by digging his fingers into the
muscles of my shoulders. The pain was so
intense at first I thought I was going to
have to ask him to ease up. My hardon even
began to shrivel. I was sure I hadn't used
as much force on him. But after a minute or
so he eased up and the massage began to
become pleasurable. I gave in to it
completely, getting hard again, beginning
to drift, and thinking I might actually go
to sleep.

I continued in that state while he worked
on my neck, shoulders, and upper arms. Then
I felt his hands begin moving down my back,
which brought me back from the edge of
sleep. I came back to full consciousness
just in time to hear him say, "Lift up." He
was tugging on the waistband of my shorts.

I realized he wasn't sitting over my butt
any longer. I lifted my middle off the
floor and felt him slide my shorts down
over my butt. I felt them move down in the
front too, coming to a halt when the
waistband caught against the base of my
hard dick. I guessed that my whole butt was
exposed and found out I was correct when I
felt his hands slide over it. There was
little danger I'd go to sleep now.

Steve had moved down to straddle my thighs
and continued with the massage. But instead
of digging his fingers in deeply, he was
now rubbing in long, firm strokes from the
top of my butt cheeks all the way to my
shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the
muscles and squeezing my sides with all of
his fingers. It felt terrific.

His hands moved from there to my butt
itself, kneading the muscles in my cheeks.
"Squatting is hard on these muscles and
your legs," he told me by way of
explanation of what he was doing. We had
had to squat quite a lot to hold and nail
the boards to the bottom rail.

When he spread my legs and moved between
them, I expected him to push my shorts back
up to my waist, but he only pushed them up
part way. He slid his hands inside them as
he worked on the muscles of my thighs. It
was all I could do not to squirm as the
balls of his thumbs traveled up the insides
of my thighs and along the sides of my
crack to the small of my back. I felt his
forearms slide against me as his hands
reached the upper end of their journey, no
doubt pulled down by the constricting leg
holes of the shorts.

When he got to my feet, he told me to turn
over. I knew my hardon was being held
sideways, trapped by the waistband of the
shorts. I didn't know what would happen
when I rolled over, but I thought there was
a chance it would spring free. However,
there didn't seem to be any way of dealing
with it, and I decided I oughtn't worry
about it anyhow.

Much to my surprise, my dick stayed inside
the shorts when I rolled onto my back. I
lifted my head for a look before I settled,
and I saw it was making a small tent of the
loose pouch created when Steve had pushed
the legs of the shorts upward while working
on the backs of my thighs. There was a
considerable wet spot at the end.

And there was no chance that it wouldn't
just stay hard since he moved to straddle
my hips and let some of his weight down
onto the very place where my dick was
lying. He had to feel it pressing into the
inside of his thigh, but he ignored it
completely as he massaged my upper body.

My dick, however, was very much aware of
the movements of his body over me. When he
began to slide down onto my thighs, pulling
my shorts down a little as he did, it took
the opportunity to pop out from under the
waistband and lie up my belly. I was
instantly aware it had happened and was
mortified about it.

"That happens to me too, getting an
erection like that if I'm really enjoying a
massage," Steve said. "Used to embarrass
the hell out of me. Every time it happened
to me the masseur told me it was a natural
reaction. After I heard that from a few
different ones, I finally believed it. I
hope you're not letting it bother you."

"I guess I'm a little embarrassed," I said,
the understatement of the year.

"Don't be, ok? It really is just a normal
reaction to a good massage. I've had enough
of them to know."

"Ok," I lied.

But I wasn't nearly as surprised at what he
said as I was at what he did next. He took
hold of my dick and tucked it back under
the waistband of the shorts. "It might jump
out again before I'm done, but at least
it's out of sight for the moment. Maybe
that'll help some with the embarrassment."

It did jump out twice more before he moved
to between my legs, and each time he tucked
it away, the first time when he slid his
hands inside the legs of the shorts and
followed the creases at the top of my legs
to where they ended at the hip sockets. If
my balls had not pulled up so tightly
against my body, he would surely have
grazed them as his fingers traveled by. He
only missed touching the head of my dick
because it was raised off of my belly in
its ultimately successful effort to move to
its normal position pointing upwards.

The long strokes from my knees along my
thighs and inside the shorts to my hip
joints caused the smooth nylon fabric of
the shorts to rub the back of my dick
making it throb. And then it happened a
third time. As Steve's hands moved inside
the shorts on their way to the end of their
stroke, they raised the waistband enough
that my dick popped free and lay pointing
straight up my belly. It lay there for a
minute until he pulled his hands free of my
shorts and replaced it under the waistband.

When he finished with my feet, he told me,
"Now we're even."

"No way!" I replied. "That was at least
four times the massage I gave you. Now I
owe you again." I was thoroughly heated up
from his touch and determined to get my
hands on his body even if nothing came of
it.

"But if you don't stop at just the right
time, I'll owe you again," he told me with
a laugh and then gave me his best smile.

"Then we'll just have to keep doing it
until we figure we're even."

"Ok by me," he said as he stretched out and
rolled onto his belly. "I'd never turn down
an opportunity to get a good massage."

I pulled my shorts up slightly as I stood
up. My dick throbbed as I lowered myself
onto Steve's butt. He moaned softly when I
first dug my fingers into his shoulder
muscles.

"You should go into the business," he said.

Not that many people I'd want to do this
to, I thought. Out loud I said, "Too much
work. Easier to mow lawns."

"Probably true."

The only thing on my mind was getting to
his butt and pulling his shorts down, so I
forced myself to continue working on his
upper body to make sure I didn't give him
less than he had given me. I wanted to make
sure the massages continued. Finally the
moment came when I told him, "Lift up."

As he did, I jerked his shorts down as far
as they would go. I guessed they had caught
on his dick in the front as had happened
when he pulled my shorts down, but they
were completely off of his butt. His crack
was hairless and the skin of his butt was
as smooth as it was everywhere else on his
body. Now that I had my hands on his butt,
my next thought was about his dick. It took
all of my self control to continue
massaging him as he had done me. I also
made sure that his shorts didn't travel
very far back up his butt as I worked on
his legs.

When he rolled onto his back, I saw I had
pulled the shorts so far down that an inch
or so of the bottom of his dick was showing
above the waistband. It seemed to be
sticking straight out and then bending in
almost a right angle. The rest was hidden
in the gathered material of his shorts, but
I knew where the head was from the large
wet spot his precum had made.

The base of his dick seemed considerably
thicker than it had when he got out of the
shower, but I wondered if it was actually
hard since it had to have continued to
point downward for the wet spot to be where
it was. In my experience hard dicks pointed
up.

I moved to sit astride his hips as he had
done on me. I could feel his dick thick
along my perineum as I lowered my self onto
him. But no sooner was I ready to begin on
his shoulders than he said, "Just a second.
I'm getting mashed. Lift up a little."

I lifted up slightly, puzzled about what he
meant. He slid his hand under my crotch.
His knuckles rubbed along the bottom of my
balls as he did and gave me a chill. I felt
his hand move around under me and then
begin to come forward again. When it
emerged, he was pulling his dick around to
lie sideways across his belly. He was
apparently arranging the waistband of his
shorts to hold it in place. I could see the
full length of his dick for half its width.
The rest was caught under the waistband,
but he had positioned it so it was holding
his dick from moving downwards rather than
upwards.

"Ok, you can sit back down."

I did, feeling his dick press into my
thigh. My own dick responded by throbbing.

"Ok now?" I asked.

"Yeah. Just not enough room down there for
everything the way you were sitting."

He had clearly settled down again, even
closing his eyes. I continued to struggle
inside myself to give him a good massage.
When I moved to between his thighs, I did
manage to touch his balls lightly with the
sides of my thumbs as I moved past them the
first time, but as I worked my hands upward
inside the shorts, the waistband moved
upward and his dick moved so that it was
further and further inside the shorts. I
touched it lightly and accidentally several
times so I knew it was hard, but it seemed
to point downward naturally. There was no
chance I could bring it into the open.

When I finished, Steve got up, tugged up
his shorts, and said, "I'm thirsty. Want a
glass of tea?"

I did, so he got glasses for both of us. We
sat in our usual places to drink it, me in
the chair and him on the sofa. I asked when
he would want me to work again. He wanted
to start on his bedroom. He could rip out
everything that needed to go over the
weekend and we could begin putting in the
new outside wall and the wall board on
Monday.

"But you'll still come mow and have lunch
with me on Saturday, right?"

"Sure will. And get my massage."

"Yeah, don't want to forget that," he said
with a smile and a wink.

"But the next week I'm gonna be away on
vacation. I won't be able to work that
week."

"Perfect timing. It'll give me a chance to
do the one-man work finishing off the
bedroom. Where're you going on your
vacation?"

I told him all about it, leaving out the
part about the nude beach, which I really
didn't believe anyhow.

"Sounds like you'll have a great time," he
told me.

When I left shortly afterward, I was as
ready for sex as I had ever been. I went to
both Kevin's and Jeffy's houses on the way
to Boomer's to get the mower, but neither
one was home. Boomer was, but so was his
mother, so there was no help for my problem
there. I pulled my jeans over my shorts and
rode off on the mower.

My lust simmered as I mowed three lawns. It
was made worse by the vibration of the
mower between my legs and of the trimmer
against my belly. I stayed hard nearly the
whole time. When I finished the fourth
lawn, I couldn't stand it any longer. I
lengthened the sling which the trimmer hung
from, lowering the motor so it sat at the
level of my crotch. When I took hold of the
handle, I could press my knuckles against
my dick which then vibrated along with the
trimmer. I came in less than a minute. The
relief was so great I nearly went down on
my knees, dragged down by the weight of the
trimmer, but I recovered before that
happened.

My last lawn that day was Mr. Morris's. I
rode the mower to his house and parked near
the garage where I usually took off my
pants. I wore long pants, usually loose
jeans once I had given up the kiddie
clothes I began the season with, to protect
my legs from flying objects kicked up by
the trimmer. But remembering Ted's comment
about Mr. Morris liking to look and because
he always gave me a tip, I braved the
dangers of the trimmer and wore only shorts
while working there. I had unzipped the
jeans and begun pushing them down when I
saw I had a large round wet spot on my
shorts. I considered mowing in shorts
anyhow since the material was a dark color
and the wet spot didn't show too badly, but
then I realized it would turn white as it
dried and become very noticeable. I pulled
my jeans up and fastened them, depriving
Mr. Morris of his view and myself of the
tip he usually gave me.

That night in bed I told Ted about my day.
We had been sucking each other's dicks
alternately and were taking a break to cool
down before we moved on to the main event.

"Amazin' that he just took hold of your
dick and tucked it away like that."

"I couldn't believe it. He acted like it
was nothing at all."

"Maybe it is to him. Wouldn't be to me. He
a touchy kind of guy, put his hands on you
when he talks to you?"

"Me neither. Yeah, he is a lot. But he just
touches my arm or my shoulder or my back,
like that."

"That's what I meant. But I wouldn't expect
him to be cool about doin' somethin' like
that though."

"We touched each other a lot working on the
fence too. Maybe it's all the same thing to
him."

"Maybe it is. But you weren't touchin' each
other's dicks. Ya know, it's always hard to
figure out how somebody's gonna react when
they don't think the same way you do. I
mean if I touched somebody's dick, I'd just
be startin' somethin'. And if somebody
touched mine, I'd think they were startin'
somethin' with me."

"I really think he's just comfortable
touching me. I mean anywhere. It just
doesn't mean anything to him. And look how
he was worried I was embarrassed."

"I bet he knew you were. Your face was
probably red as a beet. Still nice of him,
though."

"He saw me every way but hard until then.
Now he's seen that too."

"Then you don't have to worry about it any
more 'cause you know he won't think
anything about it. Too bad about poor old
Mr. Morris. I bet he'd've loved a chance to
see you hard."

"Yeah, but I couldn't've mowed with a big
white cum stain on my shorts."

"Sure you could. Probably woulda given him
a real charge."

"I'll make it up to him next week and moon
him or something."

"Better be careful. You bend over and show
him your bare butt, he might decide to do
more than just look."

"You really think he would?"

"Nah, probably not. I'm pretty sure he's
just a looker with no harm in him. Look how
he wanted to make sure you charged enough."

"Yeah. He's still paying me more than
anybody else and giving me a tip besides,
not counting this last time."

"Makes you feel kinda sorry for him, don't
it?"

Ted began to lick around the very sensitive
head of my dick and our conversation ended.
We brought each other to the brink three
more times before pushing on to an orgasm.

As we drifted off to sleep, Ted told me, "I
think you give the best head of anybody
I've ever had it from."

"Good training," I replied drowsily.

Ted chuckled, the last sound I heard before
I drifted off to sleep.


To be continued
_______________
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Previously posted chapters can be found at
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