Date: Tue, 14 Jan 2003 10:23:10 -0500
From: Taylor Siluwe <taylorsiluwe@earthlink.net>
Subject: "Grandma's Hands"  Part 5

     "Grandma's Hands"
      Copyright 2001 by Taylor Siluwe

      Part Five

      ***
      Zeke crushed the half-smoked cigarette out in the makeshift
ashtray. It was actually a saucer; Rachel had tossed all the real ones
about thirty years ago when he had quit. Old habits died hard. But the
truth was that they never really died, they just lay in wait to ambush you
at a weak moment. Little Man had offered him one last night after their
brief ... though wildly satisfying ... encounter. He had accepted ... it
seemed like the thing to do after such an act ... and now as he sat at the
kitchen table he realized that his smoking habit was the third thing to be
restored along with his youth.
      As the memory of the previous evening's activities replayed
themselves in his head, he decided that his actions had nothing to do with
wisdom and experience. It was strictly a hormonal thing. Logic and reason
played no part in getting your rocks off. It was a fantasy fulfilled. That
was all. He certainly did not plan to repeat the act.
      The only questions that remained were ... would his eighty years of
insights be drowned by desires suppressed for an equal length of time?
Would this flash flood of juvenile passions overcome them; or would his
ancient sensibilities rise to the occasion, and rule? Once again, there was
reason for doubt.
      The sun was beginning to paint the horizon in shades of orange. Zeke
never could sleep through the entire night. Now was no different. He would
make his way to the bathroom, and finally, to his chair by the window. Once
seated, he would realize that the trek had exhausted him, and there he
would remain for the rest of the night.
      Sonny staggered into the kitchen, eyes wide and full of sleep. He
seemed shocked momentarily by the sight of the young Zeke.
      "Good mornin', boy."
      Sonny did not respond; he just shook his head and left the room. Zeke
felt the tension, but had no idea what to do about it. The boy was
obviously still in shock, as was he. He started to go after him, but
decided against it. After all, what more could he say?
      A little while later, Sonny came back into the kitchen fully
dressed. His clothes looked new, as did his top-of-the-line sneakers. He
smelled of too much cologne as Zeke watched him pour himself a glass of
orange juice. A gold nugget and diamond ring glittered on his left pointer
finger.
      "Sonny-Boy?"
      "Don't call me that."
      "Why not? That's what I've always called ya, why should I stop now?"
      "Because I'm not a kid anymore, that's why. Its just Sonny now."
      Zeke nodded quietly and scrutinized his grandson. He was turning into
quite the little man. There was a certain `serious' quality about him that
he had not noticed before ... much too serious for a teenager.
      "Okay, Sonny ... so where ya headed?"
      "Out."
      "Out where?"
      Sonny slammed the empty glass down on the table, "Look, I got shit to
do a'iight ... I don't have to tell you where I'm goin' ... old man."
      Zeke stood up eye-to-eye with him and said, "Um still your..." then
he stopped, noticing his grandson's cold stare. Suddenly the gesture seemed
pointless.
      "You're still my what ... my grandpa? So what. You can't tell me what
to do ... you never could." Sonny reached for the pack of cigarettes on the
table and lit one.
      "When did you start smokin'?"
      He took a deep drag, "Just now. I'm outta here." He turned and left
the kitchen. A moment later Zeke heard the front door slam. He slowly sank
back down into the chair and sighed.
      There was no point in pursuing the kid. Somehow he'd lost him over
the course of the last twenty-four hours. Then again, maybe he'd lost him a
long time ago, but in his former feeble condition he had failed to notice
it? Maybe this was what Rachel had referred to? Was Sonny going down a
wrong path? Was he in danger?
      `Sonny will know.'
      He clutched his face in confusion over the statement. Last night he
had somehow convinced himself that his youth had been restored so that he
could sow an oat or two. Now however, he was beginning to sense a more
ominous meaning behind it all ... something more befitting of such a
miracle.
      Sonny was barely seventeen, had no job, but he had cash and
jewelry. Was he selling drugs? Another memory sent a cold chill down his
spine.
      `Sonny wouldn't be scared.'
      It was Little Man's voice. What did he mean by that? Zeke hadn't paid
much attention to him last night, but now he had to wonder. Malcolm was
admittedly a hustler ... was that comment an indication that the two boys
worked the park together? Was little Sonny-Boy selling his body for cash?
      He shook his head to clear away the ugly assumption. Then without
thinking about it, Zeke found himself in Sonny's room ... going through his
things. He had never done this before and felt slightly guilty about
it. But Sonny was clearly into something, and it was his duty to find out
what that something was. Rachel must have known.
      He found additional new clothes, some with the tags still
attached(expensive outfits with designer labels. Yeah, Zeke thought,
something was up. Sonny was either hustling in the park, selling drugs for
someone ... or maybe he was boosting the stuff. He silently prayed that it
was the latter of the three evils.
      Zeke kept rifling through draws. He came across a few condoms and his
stomach clenched into a painful knot. His grandson was too young for
this. He was still a baby. How could he be having sex? Then Zeke thought
about Little Man's words again ...
      `Sonny wouldn't be scared.'
      As those words rang in his mind, he also realized that he too was now
seventeen again ... or there about, and thoughts of sex never left his
mind. He was one big hormone ... with absolutely no scruples. Puberty ... a
time when a young boy will screw anyone who's not nimble enough to get away
from him ... a time of locked bathroom doors and really long showers; a
time when even the Smurfs made you horny with their tight blue asses. Yeah,
Zeke could clearly remember those days, when even Mickey Mouse looked
provocative in those little red shorts. Those were also the days of the
uncontrollable woody, and woe to anyone who was around when it made its
sudden appearance. Best friends, little brothers ... no one was safe when
the pubescent beast was loose.
      Zeke took a deep cleansing breath and felt more relaxed. Sonny was
young, but he was just a normal boy.
      He put the condoms back where he found them and glanced around the
room. So far, he'd found nothing to explain Sonny's sudden wealth ... just
that he was fucking. But at least he was practicing safe sex. Things could
always be worse. He shuddered to think of that possibility.
      He looked at the bed and a light bulb flicked on in his head. He
quickly flipped the mattress back, knowing that if a teenage boy had
anything to hide, this was where it would be. A glossy magazine stared back
at Zeke and he picked it up. Although it was not necessary to thumb through
the pages to determine the nature of the publication, Zeke did it
anyway. Page after page of sexy, naked, barely legal guys, winked up at
him, and against his will, the monster stirred. He kept flipping through
the magazine, absorbing the images of nubile male beauty, completely
forgetting his original mission.
      Then he caught sight of the centerfold and his heart stopped
beating. It was a photo of Sonny, laying on his stomach and looking
seductively over his shoulder at the camera. He certainly did not look like
a seventeen-year old boy. As Zeke stared at the picture, he could see a
look in his grandson's eyes ... a look that said that the boy had seen
things ... and even done things ... that no little boy should see or
do. Sonny was young ... but he experienced.
      Feeling repulsed and strangely aroused, a wave of nausea gripped his
innards and he dropped the magazine and ran into the bathroom. Zeke fell to
his knees and hugged porcelain.
      After what seemed like an eternity of purging ... looking at what
he'd done ... and then doing it again, he felt good enough to brush his
teeth and jump into the shower. He stayed in it for a long time. Then the
water went cold and he stayed in a little longer, trying to wash away that
acrid scent along with the memory of his grandson's naked body.
      Something had to be done ... but what? Sonny must have lied about his
age; no magazine would display such filthy images of a
seventeen-year-old. Or would they? He considered calling the cops on the
publication.
      When he finally turned off the water, the sound of someone banging on
the front door echoed into the tiny bathroom. A moment later, he was
dripping water on the cold tile floor, clutching a towel around his waist
and staring through the peephole.
      It was Little Man.
      Zeke opened the door slightly; "Sonny's not here."
      "What's up to you too ... damn. How do you know I wasn't comin' to
see you?" He pushed his way in, looked at Zeke's dripping frame and added
with a faint smirk, " ... And why you hiding behind the door? Ain't nobody
sweatin' you're naked ass."
      "I'm uh, sorry about that. My mind was somewhere else." Zeke closed
the door. Little Man's cologne had a citrus quality, slightly sweet with a
dash of forest. It gently caressed Zeke's nostrils.
      "Yeah, I've known you for two days and your mind's been somewhere
else the whole damn time. You need to go find it." He stood in the middle
of the room, looking like a delicious little killer ... decked out in his
best `ghetto-cool'. No one would suspect that he liked to suck dick in the
park. His overly thick eyebrows hooded his sly grin, which betrayed his
true purpose for coming ... and a smattering of vanity. Little Man's hands
were deep in the pockets of baggy denims, and his matching shirt hung open,
giving Zeke a glimpse of youthful `abs', and much more Calvin Klein brief
than seemed necessary. Nevertheless, the sight did not go totally
unappreciated. Compared to the way he looked last night, Little Man really
`cleaned-up' well.
      He apparently knew where Sonny was, Zeke wasn't fooled, and he had
decided to get his groove on one more time. The thought sent an unbidden
flutter through Zeke's stomach. Images of two young guys groping in the
moonlight arrived in his thoughts uninvited.
      "Yous young people today," Zeke said and shook his head, " ... I
knows why ya came.
      Little Man looked perplexed and amused, "Do that again?"
      "Do what?"
      Little Man laughed, "What you just did ... you sounded just like
Sonny's grandpops when you said that shit." He laughed louder; his slightly
bucked teeth seemed amazingly white. "You're a funny muthafucka ... you're
like an old kid!" Little Man fell down on the sofa, thoroughly enjoying his
little joke.
      Zeke watched him and made a mental note to speak more carefully in
the future. He did sound like an old geezer. "Very funny ... and yeah,
you're right. I am the old man ... I'm going through a second childhood."
He sat down next to Little Man. They laughed together, but at very
different things.
      "See what I mean, you're funny as hell!" Little Man said.
      "I could say the same thing." A knowing grin crept onto Zeke's face
for a nanosecond.
      "Why you gotta go there?"
      "What?"
      "I know what you meant. You tried to slip that one in, but naw, ain't
nothin' funny `bout `The Kid'. I hate labels anyway. Niggas always trying
to label every damn thing." He slapped his own bare chest ... a
`Tarzan-like' gesture of heterosexual male virility. Maybe he had amnesia.
      Zeke dropped the innocent act and grew serious, "No ... skip
that. I'm glad you're here, I wanna talk to you about something else." Zeke
slid slightly closer to him and said in a low voice, " ... You look like
you're making some good money. Your clothes, your sneakers, everything
about you is sayin' that you're doing all right. Are you?"
      "What kinda question is that?"
      "Just answer it."
      Little Man shrugged, "Um doin' a'iight. Why you all in my shit,
Oprah?"
      "Um, uh ... I'm talkin' `bout what you do ... like the stuff you do
in the park? You know what I mean. Is that all you do for your money?"
      Little Man's eyes narrowed, "What are you mumblin' about? Say what
you wanna say."
      "Did you ever pose for naked pictures?" Zeke blurted out.
      "What?"
      "You know what I mean, for one of those magazines that has naked guys
in it."
      "A fag-mag? Hell no."
      "Are you sure?"
      "I think I would remember gettin' buck-naked for some stranger."
      Zeke raised one eyebrow.
      "With a camera," Little Man clarified.
      "But no, I meant are you sure that you would never do it."
      "Yes I'm sure, hell no again. That shit would come back to haunt you
... probably in your dreams."
      "Can you be serious?"
      Little Man slouched and his hand moved about in his crotch region, as
if he was searching for something over and over again in the same
spot. Then he smiled and said, "Only after I get a nut."
      Zeke stared at the boy. Little Man stared back. In the light of day
he looked even younger than he did last night. Underneath all his masculine
bravado, Little Man was just a boy ... one who had learned much too early
how to seduce with the slow rise of an eyebrow ... and the tweaking of a
crotch. He was just a kid ... but he could make slouching on a sofa seem
provocative.
      Zeke wanted to get up and put some clothes on. He knew that if he
didn't remove himself from this scene that something would
happen. Something that he had just told himself would never happen
again. However, he felt his secret arousal ... and he knew that if he stood
up in that towel, it would no longer be a secret. So he just sat there
... frozen and speechless, wrestling with the memories of the previous
evening. He could still feel Little Man's warm hands on his body ... he
could still feel his own hands as they gripped the smooth round ass of his
grandson's best friend ... he could still taste the salty neck and hard
nipples ... and he could still feel that hot mouth on his manhood, sucking
him almost unconscious.
      Little Man continued to stare at him, and smile ... as if he knew
what Zeke was thinking. His teeth did seem to be amazingly white. His skin
was smooth and flawless and a faint mustache was making an appearance on
his upper lip.
      "So, where is the old man?"
      "Huh?"
      "Grandpops. He's usually sittin' in that chair. Is he in his room?"
      "Oh, no ... he uh, he went out."
      Little Man raised an eyebrow; "He went out? I thought he could barely
walk ... where did he go?"
      "He's not here, that's all ... what's with all the questions?" Zeke
realized that the disappearance of the old man was going to be a
problem. He had to come up with a better story.
      "Take it easy, kid. I just wanted to know if we were alone." Little
Man said, and slipped his hand under Zeke's towel. His sly grin returned.
      Zeke grabbed his hand, "Stop that. I wanna ask you something else."
      "No ... we'll talk later," he grabbed Zeke by the back of the head
with his other hand and pulled their faces together. They kissed and Zeke
felt weak. His lips were so soft. Zeke pushed him away with great effort. A
brief wrestling match ensued, ending with Little Man being pinned down on
the sofa. He looked so sweet and innocent lying there, as their arousal
throbbed between them. It took an incredible effort of will for Zeke not to
give in to the horny teenager.
      "I said I wanna talk."
      Little Man sucked his teeth and said, "Well get off me then."
      Zeke did.
      "Sonny's into something, and I wanna know what it is."
      "Why don't you ask him, why you askin' me?"
      "'Cause you're his best friend ... you would know."
      "I think you should ask him ... I can't rat my boy out."
      Zeke thought for a moment, then said, "What would he think of what
we're doin' right now?"
      "We ain't doin' shit."
      "You know what I mean, what about last night? What would he think of
that?"
      Little Man just looked at Zeke and laughed a little. His knowing
giggle said more than words ever could. The condescending glint in his eyes
said that he knew much more about Zeke's grandson than Zeke had ever
imagined. What had this boy gotten Sonny into? But then again, Little Man
was a follower, not a leader. Could this all be Sonny's doing?
      Overwhelmed by a need for answers and his raging libido, Zeke leaned
in and kissed Little Man long and hard. When they stopped, both breathless
from the sudden gesture, Zeke whispered, "Do you mess around with Sonny,
too?"
      Little Man slowly opened his eyes. "You don't know your cousin too
good, do you?"
      Zeke gripped the stiff manhood beneath Little Man's denims and
messaged it. As Little Man's eyes closed again, Zeke said, "No, I don't. He
won't talk to me. Why don't you tell me." He started kissing Little Man's
neck.
      "Ooh," Little Man moaned, " ... I can't. I can't rat out my boy."
      "It's just me. You can tell me." His voice was hot on Little Man's
neck, his groping hand even hotter on his crotch. A long pause ensued. When
Little Man finally spoke, his voice was low and breathless.
      "You won't tell him I told you?"
      "No," Zeke whispered.
      "Me and Sonny used to mess around ... but not anymore."
      "Why don't you do it anymore."
      "I dunno. Sonny just stopped one day and said he wasn't a fag."
Little Man opened his eyes and looked at Zeke. There was a little pain in
those eyes. "And he was the one who started it all. I ain't know nothin'
`bout messin' with guys until I started sleeping over with Sonny. His
grandpops is senile I think, he didn't even know I was here almost every
night."
      "How long did it go on?"
      "I dunno ... for about a year or two maybe."
      "Then he just stopped," Zeke asked, " ... why do you think he did
that?"
      Little Man just shook his head, "And you know what? He was the one
who took me to the park for the first time. Told me I could make good money
off all the fags."
      Zeke's heart skipped a beat or two.
      Little Man continued, "And that's when we stopped messin' around. He
said that from now on, he would only do it for money. And that's what we
did ... we went to the park together ... went in different directions and
made our money."
      "But you don't just do it for money."
      "'Cause I kinda like it ... Sonny don't ... at least, that's what he
says."
      "So, where is he now?"
      "I dunno, he don't tell me everything. Damn, are you finished with
the questions?"
      Zeke had learned more than he wanted to know. Now, as he settled back
on the sofa, his mind was a mix of confusion and annoying pubescent
arousal. He had wanted answers and now he had them. And although he needed
to find a way to help Sonny, he was so horny that he couldn't think
straight.
      Little Man's hands were on his body again ... and passion flooded his
brain. He had forgotten how sex took precedence over everything else in the
mind of a teenaged boy. And as Little Man slipped out of his clothes and
Zeke caught sight of that flawless ass ... all thoughts of Sonny's troubles
faded away for the moment, lost beneath all the grunting and the moaning,
which neither boy wanted to ever end.
      The sun had slipped higher into the sky, casting long shadows into
the room as Zeke and Little Man lay wrapped in each other's arms covered in
semen and sweat. Little Man had dozed off, while Zeke was wrestling with
demons. How could he be of any help to his grandson, if he couldn't stop
sleeping with his friend? Rachel must be mortified. She'd given him back
his youth apparently to help Sonny, but all he'd done so far was to help
himself. He looked at the sleeping Little Man ... perused his hairless body
... and felt himself getting aroused all over again. He would never be able
to stop fucking the boy. It was beyond his control.
      But he knew that they couldn't stay naked on the sofa ... Sonny could
come home any minute. There were so many things wrong with this situation
that it made his head spin. How could he explain it to his grandson? How
could he justify it? Although a mild sense of euphoria seemed to battle
with his anxiety. He felt almost invincible, as if he could handle anything
now that he was young again ... even a disapproving grandchild.
      He shook his head to clear it. No matter how weak he was when it came
to sex, he could not sit idly by and let Sonny continue pimping himself for
money. He had to stop it ... somehow. And being caught in this compromising
position with his best friend would just push Sonny further away.
      He couldn't let that happen.
      "Little Man ... wake up." He shook his sexy little friend, finally
rousing him. "Why don't you go take a shower before Sonny comes in and
catches us."
      Little Man nodded, still in the grips of sleep. He trudged off to the
bathroom, rubbing his eyes and looking more like a little boy than ever
before. Zeke ignored the pangs of guilt and tried to figure out what his
next move would be.
      "Rachel, what should I do?" He implored to the empty room.
      `Sonny will know.' Her voice rang in his head.


      Stay tuned for more. Coming soon. Email me your thoughts so far.
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