Date: Thu, 13 Feb 2003 02:15:43 +0000
From: tommy nofeet <tommynofeet@hotmail.com>
Subject: Stall Story 5: Coming home

DISCLAIMER: the following FICTIONAL story contains vivid descriptions of
sex between a teenager and a young boy. If this is offensive to you, or
viewing of such material is illegal where you're at, DON'T READ IT!
Otherwise, enjoy it. There might even be more sooner or later...
As for copyright, I don't reserve any rights at all - spread the word,
people!
And e-mail me comments if you have anything nice to share.

Stall Story - Part 5: Coming Home

I never thought it would change things so much, but telling James that I
loved him altered the nature of our relationship almost beyond recognition.
And I enjoyed the change, in truth. No longer was our friendship based on
sex - in fact, James committed himself to me entirely, forsaking his
physical relations with Paul and his friends. Instead, he became the small
boy that everyone expected him to be, and that he appeared when not engaged
in some sort of sexual activity. Our relationship became more friendly than
sexual, and he spent the rest of the ski trip hanging round with me, just
sitting close when I sat, or standing nearby when my friends and I visited
the town's little gaming arcade to spend hours killing all those evil
aliens. I tried to include him with what we did, but he seemed happier to
just be nearby.
All too soon the holiday was over. No longer would James and I be able to
hold each other at night until we fell asleep. No longer would I wake to the
wonderful feeling of his little fingers wrapped around my shaft, getting me
hard and ready for a bit of messing about. He started fucking me a little
more often, and for some reason I started to get into it quite a lot. The
feeling of his little load firing into my prostate was all it ever took to
get me off, and I could tell that now he could shoot James really loved it.
He was lucky to be at the stage where he didn't get soft after he shot, so
I'd usually wipe the lube and mess off his dick and suck him to another
orgasm when he was finished fucking me.
At school the opportunities to see James were few and far between. It would
have looked suspicious for us to disappear every five minutes like we wanted
to. And when we did get together, it was as if we were starting over again.
We did all those things you do when you start messing around with people -
watching each other wank, and then moving to playing with each others'
dicks. It was like the declaration of our love had reset things, and we were
going to go through the process of discovering each other bit by bit, the
way it was meant to be done.
I pined after James when I wasn't around him. I had this cute photo of us I
carried round in a hidden compartment of my wallet - we'd somehow got away
with going into one of those instant photo booths together, and the top
photo of the two of us I had was him leaning across and kissing my neck, my
eyes shut in ecstasy. The other photo, folded behind carefully, was the one
I wanked to when he wasn't around to give me personal attention - he'd had a
raging erection, and had stood on the stool and pulled his trousers and
pants down at the front to give the camera an eyeful. I couldn't get enough
of his rock hard three inch boner, the way it was very white in contrast to
his tanned tummy, and the way the foreskin quivered when his boner jerked
with his heartbeat. Obviously, the photo couldn't show that, but my memories
sufficed.
Summer came upon us slowly. I never thought I'd see the day when I didn't
have to get up and revise (I'd been having GCSE exams, and the work was
killing me), but when finally I was released from my torment, it was a great
relief. My parents had agreed that I didn't have to get a job if I helped
out around the house, doing the things my dad never had the time to do,
being away on business half the time. It was a cop-out, and we all knew it,
but I did try to make it worthwhile my mum having me under her feet the
whole time. It was difficult growing up where I did, in a tiny village of
only a couple of hundred people. There was almost no-one my age around, and
none of them went to my school (I was at a private school, for people with a
few more brain cells, and a lot more money. I won't apologise for my
privileged upbringing - I'm not guilty, and I know I'm damn lucky. There was
no point fighting it...), so I had no friends around to play with. It was
because of this that I got into mountain biking, and I loved to disappear
into the woods that surrounded the village to spend the days finding new and
exciting trails. It also gave me the opportunity to indulge in my favourite
thing - wanking outdoors. I loved to climb trees and sit in the branches,
wanking until I shot my load out into space, watching it tumble to the earth
beneath me. Then I'd milk the last drop out onto my fingers and lick them
clean, before continuing with my riding as if nothing had happened.
It was on a warm summer Sunday that my holiday, and my life, changed for
good. I'd woken fairly early, a light breeze blowing through my open window
and my tabby cat purring on my stomach. As soon as she noticed my eyes open,
she hopped down onto the floor and started to circle impatiently, waiting
for me to get out of bed and feed her. Allowing a minute for my morning
erection to subside, I rolled out of bed and opened the door to my room.
Immediately Cat (it was a simple name, but fitting...) bolted through the
door for the kitchen, and I followed her rubbing sleep from my eyes. After
feeding her, and myself, I wandered back upstairs to take a cool shower and
get ready for the day. Somehow, I just knew that this day would be different
to all the others, though what gave me this feeling was an utter mystery.
Sunday was the day my parents slept in. My dad was around, for once, and he
and my mum wouldn't be up for a couple of hours yet. Knowing they liked to
read the paper on a Sunday morning (you know, the big ones with four hundred
magazines in them?), I decided to take a walk up to the newsagents and get
them the Sunday Times. After all, it was a lovely day, and I had nothing
better to do with my time. Besides, it was the time of the month that my
favourite biking magazine came out, and I was hoping it had come in in the
last few days. I grabbed a bit of change off my bedside table and shoved it
into the pocket of my shorts, before locking the door behind me and ambling
off up the dirt track that passed for our road.
The village was dead. I mean, absolutely dead. It seemed that everyone had
had the same idea as my mum and dad, or were at church, however unlikely
that was. Over the road, I saw an unfamiliar car - when your village is this
small, believe me you notice everything like that. It was parked outside the
Jonhstones' old house. Mr. and Mrs. Johnstone had been the lovely old couple
of the village, and when his wife died, Jack Johnstone (I know, harsh
parental decision with the name there...) followed her a couple of days
later, dead of a broken heart. I was scoping the car and not really looking
where I was going as I pushed through the door of the newsagents, and walked
straight into a small boy. More precisely, my small boy!
'Tom!' he exclaimed, picking himself up from the floor where the impact had
deposited him.
'James!' I replied, putting years of very expensive schooling in English
language to no use whatsoever.
We had a quick hug, but the chance of being seen in public forced us apart.
Quietly as I could, I said,
'I've missed you.'
'Me too,' he said with a big grin now splitting his face.
It had been more than two weeks since I'd last seen James, on the last day
of school. It was one of those days where the teachers give up trying to
teach, and nothing gets achieved. Seeing as no-one would really have missed
us, James and I spent quite a lot of time in the old cricket pavilion, which
was never locked, taking full advantage of the facilities. We'd both cum
more times than I could remember, and our revisiting of the bases had led to
a hot sixty-nine on the shower room floor with hot water flooding around us.
Since we'd returned from the skiing holiday, we'd not had anal intercourse,
both wanting to take things slow as if it would make us forget how close we
got so soon after meeting.
Now he was stood in front of me in my village newsagents, grasping a copy of
my favourite magazine. I was completely lost...
'What are you doing here?'
James just giggled, a delightful sound.
'See that house?' he said, pointing across the road to the Johnstones'
place. 'My mum and dad want to buy it.'
'You're moving here?'
'Yeah, how cool is that?' James said, the smile still splitting his face
nearly in half.
'How come you never said anything in school?'
'Well, they only found the house a few days ago, but they really want it.'
'Cool.' It was all I could think of to stay. Once again, so much for the
education...
'I've got to go now,' said James, much to my disappointment. He was halfway
out the door when he turned back to me, grinning again. 'I'll make sure mum
and dad buy the house!'
With that, he was off across the road, running into his parents and little
brother as they emerged from the house. My heart skipped a beat when I saw
James' dad turn to the estate agent with a big smile on his face and shake
the man's hand. Summer might not be so boring after all.