Date: Fri, 1 Aug 2008 17:21:32 -0500
From: Andy Smith <andyoutwest@live.com>
Subject: Asleep on the Beach Chapter 17

Asleep on the Beach

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Please be advised that under aged youths are advised to not
read this material; all others are welcome.

Writer's Note: I suppose it has been a good while since I told you guys how
grateful I am for all the email I have received on this story.  Hopefully,
each of you have received a prompt and courteous response from me by
now...if you did not receive a response there has been some problem with
one of our systems...or whatever...so, write back and I'll get on it right
away.  Still, the response has been remarkable, I'm very grateful, and want
each of you to know that you make this effort worthwhile.  I'm not sure how
long this story will go on, but for now I'm plenty motivated and inspired
to keep it going.  Some of you have written in fears that I am wrapping the
story up, or winding it down -- not yet.  I'll try to give you all a
heads-up in advance to prepare you for that eventuality, but too...I'm
hoping that the story will have its own natural conclusion (btw -- I DO
know already how the story ends!).

I've also received many emails regarding Lenny (his character) and his
future in the story as it seems Liam and Jason have pushed the youngster
aside.  I appreciate your fears, and can certainly see why and how these
thoughts are coming to your mind.  I don't want to "spoil" any of the plot
for those who are patiently waiting for each installment (so I won't), but
let me remind you all that Lenny is the inspiration for the story (hence
the title).  It's not likely he gets "written off," as is often the case in
TV Soaps, nor is it likely he'll be relegated to a side show in his own
story!  So, my advice is for you guys to keep tuned in and see where the
ride stops.  Oh...I did have one particularly aggravated reader who is
upset with Liam's mother (using some very colorful language to describe the
poor woman).  What is interesting for me (from the other side of the desk)
is how difficult it is for you (faithful reader) to see beyond the mists
and vale of the writer's mind and to grasp where the story is leading,
therefore some of the character developments are perhaps received as being
harsh, un-warranted, or worse - contrived.  This is an interesting dilemma.
I could just come out and "spill the beans," but then the story would be
over and pointless -- wouldn't it?  If you read the last chapter first, you
might have a better grasp of where we are going, but I'm not sure you would
enjoy the ride so well.  So...hopefully by now most of you can trust that I
am not trying to be flippant, manipulative, or ornery with the story.
There is a natural development, and I most certainly respect each of you
and your commitment to stay with us this far.  Now...let's get to what we
all really want to know...who in the hell put the damned blanket on the
boys?!

Any comments are welcomed; you'll get a prompt and courteous reply:
andyoutwest@live.com


	Prologue

	Let's forgo the damned prologue this time.  Shall we? ...





	Chapter 17

	Damnshitfuck!  Ahhh crap!  Shitshitshit! Grrr.  What in the world?
Why?  Why me?  Why does this same goddamned fucking shit always keep
fucking happening to
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

	Okay.

	Breathe.

	Don't panic.

	Life on earth isn't over.

	Breathe.

  	The sun is up (well...mostly).

	I'm not bleeding (I hope I'm not anyway), so nobody stabbed me in
the night.

	Breathe.

	Slowly, painfully slowly, I began to feel the panic quell and my
heart function nearing a normal rate.  I blinked back tears, refusing to
give in to them this time. I realized I had a death grip on poor Jason's
arm because I felt him stirring.  Maybe that was what brought my mind
around to actually engage all circuits (well...as many as a 14 year old boy
can have working after a night like I just experienced...and given my
present predicament...but you get the point...right?).  I relinquished his
arm enough for me to wiggle around to lie on my back, and he adjusted
himself to my new position and was now comfortably (for him) atop me in an
odd sort of way.  He made sweet morning mumbling sounds as if he really
didn't appreciate being roused and wanted to get back to his dreamland.

	My instincts were to scream, panic, and fall apart.  But, damn,
Jason was so sexy lying there on top of me that I quickly forgot my panic
attack and was relishing in this new sensation...waking beside the boy I
loved!  That joyous thought began to wane though and I knew we needed to
consider what may have been revealed to whomever the intruder was that
entered my room un-announced to cover us in our naked slumber -- but it was
worse than that -- it wasn't JUST nude boys in the bed...oh no, we weren't
just NAKED, but we also reeked of SEX!  My last thought of last night was
Jason still fully inside me and me on my stomach...he was slobbering on my
shoulder, and I could feel his semen leaking from my ass.  Oh God.  It was
soooooo great...the love...the sex.  But now...oh man...what are we going
to do if it wasn't Dad?  OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MOM!

	Awe, FUCK!

	"Dufus," I nudged Jason finally, "wake up...we've got a problem."

	Jason roused slowly, then my words settled in on his waking psyche,
"Ummm...yeah...I'm horney as a rooster in a hen house!" he mumbled with a
sleepy voce.  "I'm as hard as a ball-bat...wanna do this some more?" a grin
spreading sexily across his face as he turned his cuteness toward my face
and puckered for a morning kiss.

	Couldn't resist that -- could I?  So, I kissed him.  God.  He is so
warm, so...so...yum!  Is this how it will be from now on?  I mean...can we
be together?  Will we be together?  Will we always love each other like
this?  In a hundred years -- will we still want to snuggle and kiss in the
mornings?

	I felt his hard-on hot against my leg where it bends at my pelvis;
he was leaking precum -- so was I for that matter.  Oh man, I just couldn't
resist; my anxiety and fears slipped gleefully to the back of my mind, my
mind deciding it was much happier focusing on the treasure at my
fingertips.  Taking his maleness into my hand I squeezed a bit making him
groan with satisfaction.  With twice the vigor, he kissed me deeply and
positioned himself on top of me, causing our dicks to be smooshed between
us and pointing up towards our abdomens.  Provocatively, Jason began
humping me, sliding his lower torso...more like grinding himself into
me. The friction between us and the heat of our boy tools was driving me
insane.  Our kisses turned desperate as Jason increased the tempo.  This
wasn't passion, it was craving, it was hungry.

	When he stopped I protested and tried to pull him back into our
erotic embrace, but having position and leverage on me, he easily lowered
himself down my body, kissing as he went...until he reached my pulsing
dick...which he took inside his mouth with slow, but deliberate care,
sliding his wet tongue all around my shaft as he lowered his face on my
member.  He didn't stop until his lips were at the base of my dick, and I
could feel his breath on my pubes.  There simply aren't enough words to
describe what I was feeling with myself deeply impaled in my
boyfriend's...Jason's mouth, his arms and hands giving passionate caresses
over my thighs, hips, buttocks, abdomen and even my sac.  The more I moved
beneath him, the more he got into his work, and as I began humping up into
his mouth, he started groaning and slurping.  Raising off my dick several
times he took me by his hand and planted wet, slobbery kisses to my dick
head, then would plunge back down taking most of my length back inside his
warmth.  Before I was ready...my dick erupted inside his mouth.  With the
ferocity of a street nymph, Jason took all I gave and loved every bit, if
the noises coming from him could be believed.

	As my dick wilted, he kept sucking and pulling on me with his mouth
as if he wanted to revive me and start over...only I was WAYYY too
sensitive to let him keep doing that...finally he relented to my pleas to
stop and my tugs on his arms and pits.  He allowed me to pull him upwards
toward my face and we shared my semen leave-overs that he hadn't swallowed
already.  The smell of sex was pungent between us.  I was reminded of a
comment from that old 80's movie, ET...where the one little kid accused the
other of having "penis breath," which made me smile even while we kissed.

       Jason pulled back slightly and queried, "What?"

       "Penis breath," I whispered and pulled him back to my mouth for
more.  He giggled into my mouth, and we rolled back and forth a few
minutes, locked in a wild embrace and I found myself on top...not sure
exactly how that happened, and I even made a mental note that my ribs
weren't as sore this morning...must be the love-workout-routines!

       As Jason did to me, I began to work my way down his body to
reciprocate what he had just expertly done to me.  Only, I wasn't so smooth
as he, as I was still kind of stove up and sore.  I guess I needed more
exercise.  Ultimately I ended up worshipping his dick.  I nuzzled his balls
with my nose and kissed him deeply and passionately beneath them and
downward toward the beginnings of his crack.  As I jacked his dick with one
hand, the other found its way to my mouth where I slicked up my middle
finger.  Placing my finger at his puckered entrance, I lifted my mouth to
his penis and lowered my mouth as I entered his hole with my finger.  Jason
didn't know which way to twist, or what to moan most about...the sensations
in his ass, or on his dick.  I could sense him pushing downward in attempts
to accept and devour my probing finger with his ass, and at the same time
trying to raise his hips to get his dick deeper into my mouth.  I could
relate.  All or nothing.  He needed me as much as I needed him.  We had
crossed over a threshold last night.  The walls of reserve hadn't crumbled
-- they had disappeared.  We were carnal now; this was raw sensuality.  In
a way, I guess it was innocence that had left us, and a new knowledge
filled the vacuum.  Knowledge of good and evil.  This certainly wasn't
evil.  God, no...this was bliss.  This was magic.  This was...was JASON!

       His taste on my palate was unmistakable.  I was memorizing his every
feature and contour with my tongue, my fingers, my arms, my sense of smell
-- hell -- even my hearing...I was hearing him now in an intimate way that
people just don't know other people.  His whimpers, the satisfaction, the
desire, the lust...my god...I was drunk with the love of this boy.

       My fingers now knew what to do with that lump deep inside him...I
caressed him there with my finger.  With fucking type motions my finger
went back and forth over that mass in his butt.  Relentlessly: over, and
over...touch, withdraw...rub, withdraw...touch, withdraw...feel,
withdraw...all the while I was going up and down on his dick with my mouth
at the same patient, persistent pace.  I didn't try to go all the way down
on him as he did me...instead I concentrated on my tongue, on his penis
head.  As his face contorted and head rolled back and forth I watched him,
and I saw his entire body tense and bring itself to the magic crescendo of
orgasm.  I knew he was going to burst into my mouth before I tasted him.
But soon, I had to concentrate on taking it all as there was so much that I
was afraid I'd lose some...no way I was going to let that happen!  What an
incredible sensation.  The throbbing, pulsing, dick spewing boy essences
over and over and over.  He kept bucking up into my mouth...quite literally
fucking my mouth, and I kept drinking him in.  Incredible.

       Exhausted, I collapsed on top of him, with my face on his stomach,
and his dick nestled under my chest.  Our breathing morphed into unison.

       I squeezed him tightly...I wanted this moment to be forever.  My
fears of death and parting began to sneak back around the hidden recesses
of my mind.  I wanted forever, but feared this...THIS...would never happen
again (subconsciously my fingers tapped his taut belly as these thoughts
meandered through my psyche).  I squeezed tighter.  He played with my hair.
His fingers tugged at me to come to him...I obeyed them, as I'd do anything
he asked me for the rest of my life.  How I wished at that moment that he
could make us last forever.  We kissed.  Slower this time.  On purpose this
time...the purpose of expressing love.  Not lust: love.

	The blanket.  I remembered.

	Eventually, I got him to slow down so I could show him my...our
problem.

	"Dude," I said, turning my head so he couldn't kiss me into silence
again, "stop a minute, willya?  Look, this blanket wasn't here last night."

	He was obviously pouting that I had stopped him from his morning
breakfast of my lips and whatever else he was deciding on...hmm...that
could be an interesting thought...no...have to stay focused here.

	"The blanket." I said matter of factly.

	"Yea," he said, "it's a blanket okay," and leaned in for another
kiss.  I turned my head again.  My breathing not yet fully under control.
Our smells combined.  I wondered if the smell would drift into the hall.

	"Stop...no...don't STOP...but just listen," I reasoned.  "Look --
MY blanket is on the floor!  This one (I pushed a fistful toward his face)
WAS in the HALL closet!  Don't you get it?"

	"No," he answered honestly.

	Grrrrrrr

	"Dude," I protested, bordering on whining, "who the hell put the
goddamned blue blanket on us while we were fucking naked in my bed!"  I
hate it when I get so worked up that I can't control my tongue like that.
I don't like cursing.  It makes me feel cheap...out of control.  But THAT
is PRECSELY what I felt like just now...out of control.  Jason WASN'T
helping either.

	"Oh," he said, absentmindedly brushing aside my fears, "your Mom
did that early this morning."


	Stop the world.  I'm getting off here.



	I sat bolt-upright in bed, spilling Jason off with scarcely a
notice of my bruises, cuts, sore ribs, hurt lip...nothing mattered.  The
image of my own mother walking in to see me in such a compromising position
at this age and development of my body was so shocking to me I was
instantly numb from my neck down (I know, this had happend the other day
with Lenny and me..but this time ....ohh damn-it...it was different this
time...okay?).  I spun around in the bed, pulling the blanket with me, my
feet and legs still tangled up in its web, and tried to stand up.  I failed
miserably, as the dratted blue blanket was particularly clingy this morning
and would not let me out of the bed gracefully.  Unceremoniously, I plopped
right out on the floor.  This, of course made me instantly...and painfully
I might add...aware that I really WASN'T numb from the neck down and I let
out a yelp!

	Jason was useless to me as he was rolling on the bed holding his
sides with fits of hysteria.  The door opened and there was Dad standing in
the doorway. Shit.

	"Shit!" I exclaimed at the sight of him and the realization I was
still nude, erect, and exposed.  I want to die.

	"Enough with the profanity," Dad said as he strode across the room.
Effortlessly, he lifted me with his hands under my armpits to sit back on
the side of the bed (How do adults get so strong?), and somehow had managed
to also free me from the grasps of the evil blue blanket (I was quickly
settling my mind on the fact that the blanket was responsible for my plight
and therefore should be ever banished from the kingdom of my room), as he
placed it back on my lap partially covering my shame (glory?).  He said
nothing of my nudity, nor of Jason's now that I think of it, but simply
told us to get dressed and come down for breakfast.  At the door, he
stopped, turned after a pause, and said over his shoulder, "I'm sure we'll
have plenty to talk about this morning.  Don't loiter up here all
morning...your Mother and I are waiting downstairs."  He disappeared,
closing the door as he left the room.

	Doom.  What else could there be?  We were toast.  Perhaps more
literally than I'd ever imagined a kid (kids) could be.

	I brought my hand to my face in a classic pose of misery, shook my
head in disbelief, and whimpered something about the end of the world.  I
felt the bed shift as Jason moved over to sit beside me.  By now, he had
subdued his laughter and realized my deep concern, and put his arm around
my shoulders in a typical boyhood embrace.  For my part, I was
flabbergasted that HE wasn't mortified at having been seen totally naked in
my bed...by both my MOM (did I mention my MOTHER saw US absofuckingluetly
NAKED?) and Dad.  I looked sideways at him, and I guess he could read my
mind.

	"When I realized she was in here I was afraid to move, but she just
walked in and put the blanket over us, Dude.  There was nothing I could
do."  Jason continued rubbing my shoulder with his arm around me.

	"I thought we locked the door last night," I said while looking at
the dratted door that equally betrayed me (us), along with that evil blue
blanket.

	"I woulda swore we did too!" Jason said, realizing that very fact
about the same time as me.  "It don't matter none though, `cuz we are
busted anyway!"

	Drawing a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, a sense of dread
began to settle in on me.  It seemed as though I was afraid at
first...afraid that we HAD been caught...not it was a dread of facing the
reality that we indeed were not only caught...but most certainly were about
to be executed.  Mom would tolerate a lot of shit from me...I was a good
kid afterall.  I mean, I do whine a lot (but who doesn't?), but I make good
grades, stay out of trouble, do as I'm told...mostly.  But, no, she wasn't
going to tolerate a gay faggot in her house -- a gay faggot screwing his
brains out with every boy he knows right under her very nose.

       (Okay...relax peeps, I don't like that word anymore than you
do...I'm just telling you what was happening inside my own noggin right
then...hold the flames `till the end of the chapter at least).

       Nope.  This wasn't going to go good.  Look.  Sometimes, a kid can
hold out for hope that reason and love will settle in on some blow-ups.
Occasionally, a boy could depend on one, or the other parent coming to the
rescue.  But, every now and then, you just know you're in the shit that
ain't about to smell good no matter how much perfume you try to mask it
with.  This, was one of those moments.  A moment of dread so real that I
knew beyond doubt there was simply no answer.

       I steeled myself against the overwhelming urge to crawl back into
bed and cry my eyes out.  I'm tougher than that...right?  Right.

       Still, as I drew in another breath I felt myself snubbing like a
little kid does after he's been crying so long there aren't any more tears.
Jason squeezed me tight.

       	"Let's get a quick shower, that will help us both get our
bearings," Jason offered.  Having no better plan, I numbly stood up and let
him lead me out of the room and to the bathroom.  I scarcely recall him
starting the shower and getting me and him in there, but I do remember I
responded to his gentle washing of my skin, the warm water, and the smell
of soap...soap and Jason.  After he'd washed and rinsed us off -- he turned
me under the water to get the soap off - he reached past me to turn of the
shower.  We dried off -- no, he dried us off, then led me back to the
bedroom, sat me on the bed, and went to get us some clothes out of my
drawers.  Knowing where everything was, he came back armed with all we
needed to be comfy and had me and him dressed in board-shorts, tee-shirts,
underwear, socks, and no shoes in a flash.  I was slipping into a walking
coma.  I was totally useless to him, but he didn't seem to mind.  When he
had is both dressed and in our sock-feet, he pulled me up off the bed and
into a tender hug.

       "Can we do this together?" he asked tenderly.  I was uncertain of
what he meant.  My gaze told him of my confusion.

       "I'm here, Liam.  Whatever happens, happens to both of us.  Friends
to the end."

       "This -- l..looks like the end." I said while biting my lip to hold
back tears I refused to give.

       "No." Jason said firmly. "No.  This is NOT the end.  Liam.  Look at
me.  AT ME!" he insisted.  I raised my head from his shoulder and pulled
away from his warm hug so I could comply.

       "We're not done.  No one can make us be done, if we don't want to be
done.  I don't know what is going to happen with your Mother.  Hell, I
don't know what is going to happen with my Father.  But I know this," and
he leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips.  "I will not let anyone
take you away from me now...or ever.  No one might understand that we love
each other, but we do...we have for a very long time now, only we just
couldn't say it to each other.  That was stupid.  We should have trusted
each other more, but it don't matter, because we KNOW now.  And now...now,
I don't ever want to go back.  We're together.  We might not be able to
TELL anyone else...because, well...you know why...kids at school and
shit...but even so, I won't ever let anyone take you away from me.  I don't
know how I can keep this promise.  But Liam Nielson, I WILL keep this
promise."

       Wow.

       Damn, couldn't stop the tears this time, out they spilled without
asking permission.  Me and my tear ducts are going to have a long serious
conversation...soon...but not right now.


       Comments welcome!  andyoutwest@live.com