Date: Tue, 11 Dec 2001 22:35:06 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: boy in a pink box, chapter seven

This is a story involving teen/boy, male/male graphic sex and not
intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type
of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read
something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only
for the purpose of pleasurable reading.

Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Boy in a Pink Box ~ chapter seven

by Biscuit


Gareth turned eleven in the middle of July. His mom got
him a bike for his birthday. It was the most expensive
mini-mountain bike in the world; an awesome thing,
bright banana yellow with rainbow streamers hanging off
the handle bars. God, he loved it.

I would have killed myself before riding something that
looked like that, but I knew how it would be. Kids would
fall all over themselves telling  him how cool it was. And
they did. Actually, it was pretty cool, even if it was funny
looking. He rode it like a maniac, racing off the road to
jump hills and shit.

It was around the same time that his mom invited us to
the pink box for dinner. I'd been in it before. Inside, it
was nicer than on the outside, open and airy, with the
back that faced the woods almost all windows. But it was
kind of empty. There was more stuff on the walls,
paintings and what she called 'assemblages', which
were sort of like paintings but with paper and other
junk glued on them, than there was furniture. It looked
like they'd never finished moving in.

She wanted to introduce us, well my dad, really, to Tony.
We'd heard scraps about him. He was an art dealer from
Boston. Nobody talked about Gareth's dad showing up
anymore, Tony was his mom's boyfriend.

I knew Gareth didn't like him. He didn't talk about him
much, but when she went up to Boston, he'd roll his
eyes and say, "she's gone to see Tony."

And there they were, announcing to me and Dad and
Spano, and her friends from Oceanus, that they were
planning to get married. Gareth told me later that he
already knew it.

I felt bad. Looking at him with his mom and Tony.
I think I understood for the first time that he wasn't
just a weird kid that I couldn't keep my hands off, and
he didn't exist just for me. I wished he did, but he
didn't.

I'd never really thought about what it might feel like
to him to be left at our house so much. I wanted him
there and he seemed happy enough to be there. My
dad had given him his own key. But seeing him with
them, with Tony, a guy I knew he didn't really like,
who was about to become his dad, I realized a whole
world existed around him that had nothing to do with
me. For me, selfish as I was, the news that they were
going to move to Boston at the end of the summer
struck me a whole lot harder than the rest of it.

I think that's why I finally broke down and fucked
him, like if I didn't do it soon, I might never get a
chance.

The morning after we did it, like I had a sign painted
across my forehead, Terry said to me, "You fucked
him." We were pedaling slow down my driveway,
him next to me, Gareth riding in front of us.

"Jesus Christ," I said, cringing. "Why don't you say it
a little louder, I'm not sure every fucking person in
the neighborhood heard you." My pulse had shot
off the charts. How the fuck he could possibly know?

"Hey Junior," he called out. "How's that bike seat feel?"

Oh God, was that it? Was he sitting funny or something?
Gareth's laugh pealed out.

"A wee bit tender, mate."

"Yeah, I'll bet." I wanted to kill them.

Gareth coasted, standing on his pedals, and he waved his
little ass at us. I wanted to die, but please God, I thought,
not until I could fuck him about a million more times. My
dick throbbed, remembering how tight and hot and
slippery it was between those cheeks he was wagging at
us like a dog.

We'd been up all night. I don't think we slept so much as
finally passed out. I'd fought off sleep and kept him awake
as long as I could, knowing I couldn't touch him during
the day, not like I wanted to. It was in that restless time,
when I was fighting sleep, that we finally did it. Then
we kept doing it until the sun was coming up.

I remember it started with me licking him. I was under
the sheet between his legs, with the smell of him trapped
under there with me. Fingering him, sucking him, and
still not getting enough. For the first time I didn't stop
at licking the soft skin behind his little balls, I kept
moving downward until my tongue was in his crack.

Gareth had made little cooing noises that turned me
on -- knowing how much he was liking it. Sick, to
put your tongue in somebody's ass, but it didn't feel
sick, it felt really good and it was like I was trying
to eat him. My mouth was watering like crazy when
I touched his hole with the tip of my tongue. I tickled
it and he squirmed, spreading his legs open like he
wanted me to do it more. Then I slid my tongue right
inside of him. God, it was so hot in there! And his
prick was so hard under my fingers it felt like I
could snap it right off. Every time I pressed my
tongue into him my cock jerked under me, wanting
in there.

It surprised me when Gareth pulled away from me,
banging at my face with his leg as he squirmed
away. Without saying a word, he took off for the
bathroom. I went after him and found him peering
in the medicine chest with only the night light to
see by. I thought he looked so beautiful, squinting
into the cabinet, his little boner snapped up to
his belly.

"We need something slippery," he whispered.

We were like a pair of thieves, sneaking around in
the dark, looking for junk to use and a towel.

He was slippery with my spit and he'd slathered
my dick with hand lotion. I was glad that we had
to be quiet. If we'd talked about what we were
doing I might have lost my nerve. I might have
talked us out of it, like I'd done before, and Jesus
Christ, I did not want to stop.

It was like finding the socket to heaven when I
slid my dick inside him. He was crouching at the
edge of the bed with his knees spread and his
head down on his arms. Just putting it in him was
almost more than I could stand. I don't think I
lasted more than a handful of seconds before I
started shooting off into him, hanging on to his
hips so I could push deeper.

I'd known about the box on the top shelf of the
medicine cabinet for a long time. I knew what
condoms were, that my dad had to use them so he
wouldn't get somebody pregnant. I'd unwrapped one
once and played with it. But it wasn't until Gareth
whispered to me, when he felt I was getting hard
again, after the first time, "God, I wish we had a
rubber," that it even occurred to me that it was
something he and I might ever use. I mean, he
couldn't get pregnant.

It was the mess. All my spunk, and other stuff I didn't
want to think about, dripping out of him. There was a
double wrapped plastic bag at the back of my closet,
hiding the evidence. I planned to leave it there until I
could put it out safely the night the trash was picked
up. I was afraid my dad would somehow find it if I
put in the garbage.

Now Terry was smirking and shaking his head.
Gareth was laughing and I was trying to ignore them
and act normal with a raging hardon and my face
on fire.

What world did they live in? How could something
so stunning to me, be like a joke to them? Even
though I was starting to get it, I was a long way
from finding it funny.

We were out on the raft that day, the three of us. It
had become a thing we did, leaving the girls on the
beach, at some point or another, to be on our own.
The Donna Lee was long gone. We'd never done
anything like that again, but since then, it was
always the three of us hanging out together; like it
used to be me and Terry.

It was the middle of July. Even Gareth had some
color by then. He never really got tanned; he turned
a light gold and kept burning. His nose and cheeks were
always pinked up. Terry was deep brown, especially
his shoulders, but then he was never pale, not even
in the middle of winter.

We'd been taking turns running to the edge of the raft
and flinging ourselves like cannonballs into the water,
trying to see who could jump the furthest. We did it
over and over until we were dragging ourselves up
the ladder between jumps.

Gareth collapsed in a puddle and rolled over on his
back. I sank down next to him, glad I wasn't the first
one to bag out, looking down at him and wondering
what it would be like to fuck him in broad daylight
instead of my dark bedroom. He wasn't wearing my
baggy cutoffs anymore. His mom had broken down
and bought him jeans, if you could call them that.
They were French. The denim was really, really
thin and soft. For once, she'd gotten something right.

Dead as I was, with my ears ringing from hitting the
water, and my legs like jelly, my dick twitched and
stiffened up as I looked at his belly rising and falling.

Terry dropped down on the other side of Gareth. He
was tired out too, but fidgety; pushing his hair back
and wiping at the water on his face. He gave me a
look, his eyes dropping to my crotch and back up to
my eyes with a shake of his head.

"So you finally did it."

"Don't you ever think about anything else?" I asked.
As if I did. As if it wasn't obvious.

He looked down at Gareth who broke into a dimpled
smile and rolled over on his stomach, closer to me,
with his chin on his arms.

"How the hell did you know, anyway?" I asked him.
I didn't want to. But I had to. I had to know.

Terry snorted. "Gee, I don't know. There was
something about the way Junior whispered to me,
'we did it,' that gave it away."

Gareth looked at me with a big guilty smile. His
eyes were shining under his wet lashes. He pressed
his lips together and tried to hide his grin on his
arm.

"What did you think?" Terry laughed. "That I could
smell it or something?"

I just groaned and put my hands over my face. No
way was I going to admit what I'd thought. Gareth
was erupting in giggles and Terry was breaking
himself up, leaning over and pretending to sniff
his butt.

"You both totally suck!" I wasn't crazy about being
laughed at, but at least I knew there wasn't some
mysterious sign that others could see and I couldn't.
I stretched out on my stomach, turning my head so
I could look at Gareth, aching to be alone with
him and fuck him again.