Date: Wed, 27 Sep 2000 08:04:58 CDT
From: Tim Foure <timfoure@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Summer of My 15th Year" 48 (adult-youth) (incest)

The Summer of My Fifteenth Year, Chapter 48

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 48

That night I told Ted in chat about the afternoon
with Steve. He replied, "So there he was thinking
he didn't want to give you ideas about stuff you
never thought of on your own. Man, he ought to
know you like I do. You could probably teach him a
thing or two."

"Gee, thanks bro. Make me feel good."

"I'm just pulling your leg. I'd rather pull your
dick, but it sounds like it's already been pulled
about as much as it could stand for one day."

"That's for sure. I don't think I ever stayed hard
that long before. Or felt so beat after I came."

"Wish I'da been there. Sounds like it was fun. And
I know he's got a body I'd enjoy getting my hands
on."

"True, you would."

"At least he's not falling in love with you or
anything."

And so saying, Ted changed the topic of
conversation to Phil. I had just ended another
unsatisfactory phone call with him.

"I'm really thinking he's trying to cool things
off between us. I really am."

"Give him a break, will you. You know him better
than I do, but he sure didn't seem to me like the
kind of guy who'd dump you on the telephone. Gotta
be something else behind the way he's behaving."

"I can't wait to hear what he's got to say come
Friday."

On Thursday night Dad reminded me he was going to
New York for the opening of a major show of his
work. He was driving to Atlanta the next day to
meet Mom, who was going with him. I had forgotten
all about it even though I had been there when his
paintings were crated and hauled off by the
shipper. Dad told me he wanted my help packing.
What he meant was he wanted me to pack for him,
which I had done ever since Ted left for college.
But I was so preoccupied that I found myself
packing a pair of bright green socks to go with
his blue suit. Dad would hardly have cared less,
but that wasn't the kind of image Mom wanted him
to cultivate. I started over, giving what I was
doing a reasonable share of my attention.

When I finished, I told Dad, "You're really low on
underwear. And I bet your dress shirts are too big
now too. You need to get some more."

Dad's mornings at the gym had paid off, both in
the amount of weight he had lost and the overall
toning up of his body. He didn't have Steve's
body, but he was a lot closer to it than he had
been.

"Write a note and put it in the suitcase, ok? I'll
give it to you mother when we get to the hotel."

With that he dismissed the matter from his mind.
For some reason, this annoyed me even though it
was the kind of thing he always did. And then Phil
called. I usually called him, but I hadn't gotten
a chance to do it yet because of having to pack
Dad's bag. Phil's "Hi. Couldn't wait any longer to
hear your voice" registered as "How come you
didn't call me when you were supposed to?". So I
barked at him and the call ended after two
minutes. I paged Ted. It was almost a half an hour
later when he responded.

Ted couldn't wait to give me the news that he and
Brian had made dates with twin sisters they had
met in the one summer classes they were all
taking. He described them in detail, ending with,
"We probably won't get to fuck 'em the first time,
but it'll be hot when we do!"

It wasn't what I was in the mood to hear. "Don't
you ever think about anything besides sex?"

"No. And neither do you. What's eating you?"

I poured it all out, even the unreasonable parts.

"Wish I was there. Sounds like you need a shoulder
to cry on."

"You're probably right, but talking to you is
helping."

"Glad to hear that."

"You know, it's gonna be really hard for me and
Phil. I mean, we won't be able to be together
much. And I'll have to be careful Dad doesn't
figure it out. I dunno.  I'm really thinking maybe
it isn't a good idea."

"You're just down right now. Wait til tomorrow
before you decide anything."

"Don't you think it's gonna be a problem about Dad
catching on? Or Mom. What about Mom?"

"Ok, Sport, listen up. First off, you know Dad
wouldn't catch on that the house was on fire as
long as it wasn't burning right where he was
standing. And even then he'd just look for Mom to
come put it out. And Mom already caught on
anyhow."

"Mom what?"

"I wasn't gonna tell you this, but Mom already
caught on."

"How do you know?"

"Back when Phil started making plans for his
vacation, he called me to find out what I thought
the chances were Mom and Dad'd let you go."

"I knew you already knew about it that night when
Phil called and talked to Dad! And you didn't tell
me!"

"Hey, it was supposed to be a surprise, remember?
Anyhow, I told Phil he ought to call Mom and talk
to her. So he did. Then she called me. She had it
all figured out about you and Phil right from the
start. She just wanted to know what I thought
about him. She said she knew how close you and I
are and she wanted to know if I would trust Phil
to take you to the beach for a week. I told her I
would, definitely. So she called Dad and told him
to let you go."

"But Dad said he'd have to ask Mom that night when
Phil called him."

"Gee, Dad forgot he talked to her about it. What
else is new? But he was sure she'd say it was ok,
remember? At least that part stayed with him."

"I can't believe Mom knew all this time. Do you
think she told Dad?"

"No. I know she didn't tell Dad. Why would she do
a dumb thing like that?"

"I dunno. I'm just surprised about all of this."

"Yeah, well, the good part, Sport, is you know how
Mom is. She's not gonna be a problem over anything
that makes you happy. You're her baby. You and
Phil won't have any trouble with her. I mean, if
you aren't just gonna dump him tomorrow night."

"Phil'll really be surprised to hear about Mom."

"I don't guess I'd tell him that if I were you. I
mean, especially if you're gonna dump him."

"I'm not gonna dump him. Quit saying that!
Probably he's gonna dump me. You probably already
talked to him so you know I'm right."

"Sport, I swear, I have not talked to Phil. I
wouldn't go behind your back like that."

"But you went behind my back with Mom."

"Did not! Mom called me. And all she wanted was to
know I trusted him. She told me about you and
Phil. I didn't tell her. So how is that going
behind your back?"

"I guess it's not," I was forced to admit.

"You're just plain lucky she didn't talk to you
about it instead of me. Back when I first started
screwing around, she grabbed me one night for a
thirty second heart-to heart talk. Said she knew I
was sticking my dick in anything that moved and I
better be damn sure there was always a layer of
protection between me and whatever I was lusting
after. I told her, 'Yes, Mam!'"

"Then I'm glad she called you instead of me. I'da
been embarrassed if she'da said that to me."

"She wouldn't have. She knows you and I are
different so she treats us different."

"You saying I'm, like, her favorite?"

"Nope. I'm saying we're different and she loves us
just the way we are. She's always expected me to
look out for myself because that's the way I am.
But she's always let me look out for you because I
wanted it."

I thought of the painting Dad had done when I was
a baby of Ted holding me in a rocking chair, the
only painting Mom took with her to Atlanta when
she first moved there.

"You always have looked out for me too. Don't
think I don't know it."

"Then trust me on this. Wait til tomorrow night
before you make any decisions, ok?"

"Ok."

But I didn't stop thinking about it. In the
morning Dad left bright and early for the drive to
Atlanta. It was early enough, in fact, that I
could call Phil before he left for work."

I replied to his sleepy "Hello" with "I'm sorry I
was an asshole on the phone last night."

"No problem. I figured you were upset over
something. You get it worked out?"

"Not really, but I'm gonna. I just wanted you to
know I was sorry."

"Ok. You coming over tonight?"

"Yeah, sure am." I thought about inviting him to
come spend the weekend at the dream house, but
then I changed my mind. "What time'll you get
home?"

"Dunno. Won't until I get to work and see how much
stuff came in last night."

"Any chance you can call me so I'll know what time
to come?"

"Don't you have to eat supper with your dad before
you can get out?"

"Nope. Dad just left for New York. I'm here all by
myself." I suddenly hoped he'd suggest we spend
the weekend together.

But instead he answered my question. "I can call
as soon as I start out in the truck. Doesn't
matter if I'm here yet or not when you come.
You've got a key."

I filled the time waiting for his call by making
and eating my breakfast and by fidgeting. Phil
called just as I was cleaning the coffee pot to
tell me when he'd get home. I decided I couldn't
stay around the house or I'd drive myself crazy,
so I went into town and mowed the lawns I had
scheduled for that day and for Saturday as well.

I had been thinking about dinner that night as the
afternoon progressed and one stand of grass after
another fell beneath the mower blades. At first I
thought I'd order food for both of us from a
restaurant on the highway and have Phil drive me
out to get it when he got home. Then I decided to
go on my bike to fetch it so it would be there
when Phil arrived. Finally I decided to shop and
fix dinner myself. I spent longer shopping for
that one meal than I usually did buying groceries
for the week. My first thought was steak, baked
potato, and salad. What I actually bought was a
roasting chicken, stuffing mix, sweet potatoes,
broccoli, a can of broth I could turn into
homemade gravy, and a frozen pie I planned to bake
along with the chicken. I was already in line at
the checkout when I remembered the only seasonings
Phil had in his kitchen were salt and pepper. I
also wondered what the chances were he would have
a roasting pan. So I made one more pass to get
what I would need before I was finally able to
check out.

Since I hadn't gone back home after I left that
morning, the saddle bags on my bike were still
stuffed with my water bottle, the jeans I used to
protect my legs while I was trimming, and a sweat-
soaked towel. I repacked the groceries in their
two bags, distributing the weight more evenly so I
could hang them on the handlebars and hold them in
place as I pedaled. Fortunately it wasn't very far
from the supermarket to Phil's apartment because
the bags tended to swing, making it difficult for
me to maintain my balance.

When I let myself in, I realized I had never been
there before when Phil wasn't home even though I
had had a key for several weeks. I went straight
to the kitchen and turned on the oven while I
unpacked my bags onto the kitchen table. I would
have liked to have jazzed up the stuffing mix with
sauteed onions and celery, but since I wanted to
stuff the chicken rather than just make the
stuffing in a pot, I decided there wasn't enough
time. As it was, it would probably be an hour
after Phil got home before we could eat. I
prepared the stuffing, emptied and washed out the
cavity of the bird, stuffed it, seasoned it, and
put in on to bake. I put the sweet potatoes in at
the same time. The pie, it turned out, would have
to wait because there was no room for it in the
oven.

Since nothing else needed to be done immediately,
I stripped off my dirty clothes and took a shower.
As I was drying myself afterward, my first thought
was to simply stay naked and greet Phil that way
when he got home. On second thought, I pulled a T
and a pair of shorts out of his dresser and put
them on. They were a little large for me, but the
elastic in the shorts was tight enough that were
in no danger of sliding down on their own. Then I
went back to the kitchen to cut up the broccoli
and to make the gravy. I also made a large pot of
tea for ice tea.

Phil arrived early. "What smells so good?" he
called out as he closed the door.

"Me," I said, coming out of the kitchen.

"You probably do, but you're not what I'm smelling
right now," he said, lifting his head, closing his
eyes, and sniffing loudly in the direction of the
kitchen.

Just as I was about to wrap my arms around him,
his eyes opened and he put his hand in the middle
of my chest. "Don't! I'm sweaty dirty. And I
stink." He leaned forward to kiss me. I met him
half way.

When we broke, he asked, "Will dinner stay warm
long enough for me to get a shower?"

"You've got an hour. This isn't carryout. I'm
cooking."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I'm gonna feed you actual homemade food."

"What'd I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing yet. But I'm hoping you will."

"I'll have to see what I can do," he told me as he
began to unbutton his shirt. The gold chain
gleamed against the skin of his neck. I went to
work on his belt. He was naked in under a minute
and, much to my surprise, his dick was hard and
pointing out from his body and up. He was so hard
the tip of the head was showing beyond his
foreskin.

"Looks like you're really glad to see me," I said.
His dick was at eye level to me since I had
squatted to pull down his shorts and boxers.

"Yeah, I really am," he told me as he ran his hand
across the top of my head and down the back to my
shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

I took that as a good sign. I opened my mouth and
began to lean toward his dick.

"Don't!" he said. "Believe me, you won't like the
taste."

"Ok, I can wait," I said as I stood up. "Go take a
shower."

"You sick or something?"

"Nope, doing great. Why?" But in fact I knew I
wasn't acting normally.

"Just not your usual impatient self."

I shrugged it off. "There isn't any beer. Want a
glass of tea?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he told me. "I'll just be
a minute in the shower."

I thought about offering to wash his back but
decided to fix his tea instead. I no longer
thought he was about to dump me, but I still
wasn't sure what was going to happen. As I turned
to go to the kitchen, he disappeared into the
bedroom still wearing his shoes and socks but
carrying his dirty clothes.

I decided to make myself a glass of tea as well.
Then I checked the chicken and the potatoes. I was
stirring the gravy when I felt a wet mouth on the
side of my neck and two hands slide up under my
Tshirt and across my bare belly and chest. I
pressed back against Phil, feeling his hardon
pressing into my butt and lower back. He continued
to kiss and lick his way up the muscle on the side
of my neck until he got to my ear. As he slid his
tongue into my ear as he began to squeeze my
nipples, my dick, which had gotten hard from the
kisses, began to throb.

When I opened my eyes a minute or two later, I
realized I was still holding the lid from the pot
of gravy and the spoon I had stirred it with. I
put the lid back on the pot and laid the spoon on
the counter next to the stove as I felt Phil slide
his hand down my belly. His hand traveled under
the waistband of the shorts. He caressed my dick
with his thumb as his hand continued to move over
my lower belly. When he reached the bottom, he
hooked his thumb across the base of my dick while
he wrapped his fingers around my balls, cupping
them against my body. Meanwhile, his kisses had
moved across my cheek. I turned my head, meeting
his mouth with mine. I tried to turn around, but
he had too tight a hold on me with his one hand on
my chest and the other around my balls. I had to
be content with reaching behind him with my hands
and cupping the cheeks of his butt, which I was
surprised to discover were bare.

He caressed my tongue with his own while he rubbed
my nipples until they were tiny hard points. At
the same time he massaged my balls and rubbed the
base of my dick with his thumb.

"How long before dinner's ready?" he asked,
pulling his mouth just a fraction of an inch from
mine so the sound could escape.

I looked past him at the timer on the oven. "Maybe
a half hour. Forty minutes."

His mouth pressed against mine again and his
tongue moved in to find mine. I felt the hand he
had on my chest slide down to the waistband of the
shorts. He began to push them down as he guided me
toward the kitchen table. I helped by grabbing
them on the sides and pushing down as well. When I
did, his hand moved back to my nipples. I could
feel the precum leaking from his dick against my
bare back

The distance from the stove to the table was
small, but since I was hobbled by the waistband of
the shorts which had stuck around my knees, we
moved in very short steps. When we got to the
table, Phil pushed the shorts to my ankles with
his foot and held them there as I stepped out of
them. He also pushed the T up. I took the hint and
pulled it over my head, breaking our mouth contact
just long enough to do it. When it was gone, he
pushed against my back and whispered, "Bend over
the table."

I leaned forward until my chest was pressed
against the table. I felt his hands slide down my
back and across my butt. When they moved between
my legs, they pushed, forcing me to spread my feet
apart. As soon as I did, I felt Phil press his
lips against my asshole and begin to tease it with
the tip of his tongue. He massaged the area around
the hole in a circular pattern with his thumbs. In
a short time his tongue was darting into me as far
as it could reach. I had begun to moan.

After working on my asshole for a few more
minutes, Phil grabbed my legs and lifted them.
"Turn on your back," he told me.

As soon as I did, he draped my legs over his
shoulders and took my dick into his mouth, forcing
his lips downward until his nose was pressed into
my pubic hair. He began to twist his mouth as he
bobbed up and down on my dick. I abandoned myself
to the pleasure he was giving me.

After a while I felt his finger slide across my
asshole and then straight into me. He twisted it a
few times, pulled it out, and pushed two back in.
It took a little longer for me to become
comfortable with them, but when he knew I was, he
added a third finger. I couldn't wait any longer.
I had to have his dick in me.

"Please! Now!" I told him. "Do it now!"

But when he pulled his fingers from inside me, he
stood up and leaned over me, looking me in the
eyes from a very short distance away. "I got some
really good news today," he told me."We never
talked about what either one of us did before we
met each other, but I was pretty wild for a time
there and I wasn't always as careful as I
should've been. I moved here to get away from
that. Last week when you kept telling me we didn't
need a rubber, I didn't feel like I could take
that chance. I didn't want to do anything that
might hurt you. So Monday I got the test and the
results came today. I'm ok. I love you. I know
there're gonna be problems for us but I want us to
be together as much as we can be. I'm not saying
forever and I'm not asking you for that either.
But for as long as we're happy with each other."

It was the one thing I had never thought of as the
reason Phil might be backing off from me. "That's
what I want too! I love you too!" I pulled his
head toward me and kissed him, opening my mouth
fully to his tongue.

"We could still use a rubber if you'd feel better
with it," he told me when the kiss ended. "Worked
just fine all of this time."

"No way! I want just you inside me. I've been
wanting that for a long time."

So I watched as Phil grabbed what was left of the
butter I had left out to use with the potatoes and
use it to lubricate his dick. I realized that was
also what he had used to lube my asshole. I
watched as he aimed the head of his dick at my
hole and felt the head make contact. His dick
seemed to slid into me more easily than it ever
had before. In no time at all he had established a
rhythm that brought his dick head into regular
contact with my prostate. He leaned over again to
kiss me and I wrapped my arms around his neck,
holding him there. I came first, but I felt Phil
begin to cum too, as if my cumming was a signal to
him to begin. I imagined I could feel his cum
shooting into me even though I knew it wasn't
possible.

When it was over, we stayed as we were for a
minute or two before I told him, "I really love
you."

"I love you too," he replied.

We held each other until I felt his dick slip from
my asshole. Phil straightened up, helping me from
the table.

"Think dinner'll hold while we get a quick
shower?" he asked me.

I was becoming aware of a wetness creeping down
the inside backs of my legs, the brand new
sensation of his cum leaking out of me. "It'll
have to," I said as I headed for the bathroom.

The End.

_______________
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Previously posted chapters can be found at
www.nifty.org in the gay male archive, incest
category.