The Book of Aric
by Doc Sawzall
Chapter 1
It wasn't so difficult when I look back on the events so long ago but once the wheels were put into motion, things and events took on a life of their own. Actions have consequences, some are foreseen and some are not. Some consequences may have started as a result of planning or plotting, but when others are involved, some unexpected results spring to life on their own. Once events are set in motion it is difficult to maintain direction when events spiral out of control. All you can do is roll the dice, take the chance and hope you can ride the tiger towards the anticipated finish line. I had formulated a plan, thought it through as best I could, the steps that would be required of me, leaving only the end result and the outcome in doubt. What I clearly understood was that this wasn't one of those pass/fail exercises. What I was planning to do had serious personal implications. If I had incorrectly judged the situation, it would go beyond my ability to manage the sequence of events or to follow or to enact any sort of damage control. There would be hell to pay, a reputation that would follow for life and untold unpleasant daily reminders of just what I had done. Just as importantly, I would forever be known for whom and just what I was.
Once started though, the excitement and rush I got from planning and taking actionable steps to achieve my desired goal was as much a thrill as finally getting to the point where I could at last arrive at my intended destination. I don't know where the idea originally came from, other than an unbridled need and desire burning from deep inside of me to finally take the chance and try to make something happen. What I didn't plan on were the unintended consequences that came from setting the wheels in motion, not anticipating how my life would never be the same. All I was looking for were a few fleeting moments of shared bliss through a physical connection with another like me. There were no antecedents in my past that would have allowed me to portend how my life would forever change.
It was the summer of my fourteenth year. School had been out for nearly a week and the end of this summer was gloriously far off in the distant future. Far from being bored, I was not looking forward to any return to classes then or in the future. I was simply having too much fun. There had been many changes in my life and I was simply looking forward to an uncomplicated summer. We had moved just prior to the start of the previous school year. While I had made some friends I had also picked up a part time job with the local doctor who lived across the street from us. I was his yard and errand boy. Mom had taken me to see the Good Doctor shortly after we had moved into town. I had had a growth spurt of some four inches in height in what seemed to her overnight. Clothes and shoes that once fit needed replacing every few months. All in all, this past year I had gone through three changes of school clothes. The Good Doctor assured her that this wasn't unusual and while I would grow somewhat taller it would slow down eventually. Quite frankly, if I had my druthers I would just wear what I was wearing this morning, today and every day, an old pair of ratty shorts and a tee shirt. While my sneakers had seen better days, they were comfortable.
Before I forget, my name is Aric Peterson. Everyone in my family calls me Squirt. I got the nickname because until recently, I was always smaller than my classmates. Dad always joked that it really came from when I was a baby. It seems I would just start peeing every time my diaper came off. Funny then, not so funny now particularly when guests are regaled with the tale of my nickname's origins. I stand about five foot nine inches tall. My hair is cut in a boy's regular fashion and is a medium shade of brown as are my eyes. Because of my growth spurt I haven't filled out and weigh about one hundred thirty-five pounds. As I noted before there were changes in my life and now changes were happening to me. My voice had started to deepen and I now had some hair down 'there' as well. While there was none under my arms, I knew it was coming if my older brother was an example. My body was changing for the better I thought. Along with those changes to me were new feelings, strong feelings that had me perplexed. Early in puberty I had discovered the solitary joys of self-pleasure.
While I had mentioned there was some pubic hair down there, it was just the beginnings. It was soft and downy and looked as if my penis had a moustache. There was none on the side of my pubic mound and none to speak of on my balls. I was average in size for the most part, more of a 'grower' than a 'shower'. It isn't very big when soft and when completely docile it really is just a stub, but boy can it grow. I love watching it lengthen till it's fully hard and constantly wonder just how such a tiny button can blossom. My balls on the other hand are some sort of God's cruel gift and practical joke. It seems as if he gave me a larger than normal set to make up for my obvious shortcoming. I should also mention that I find myself lusting after the boys I see in the showers after gym class. I don't know or understand why, but girls just don't do it for me.
Before I had had the 'talk' with my father I knew about the birds and the bees and my orientation from the school yard and some paperbacks I had found at the town dump one Saturday morning. I had been wandering while Dad was deep in conversation with someone about something. People throw all sorts of things away at the dump and you never know what you might find. I love looking over stuff. This particular Saturday morning I came across what I though was someone's discarded paperbacks. Boy was I wrong, they were books ok but not the kind you were going to check out of the library. These were seedy dime store novellas about gay sex. The teacher and the student, the hired ranch hand, the pool boy, gardener and the kindly next door neighbor, take your pick. Somehow, I managed to smuggle the ones that looked the most interesting home. The things done in those books could make the devil blush and gave me quite an education; unfortunately, I couldn't see anyway to exercise any practical application.
While I am attracted to some of my friends and the other naked boys I see after gym class in the showers, I would never let it on. It just isn't done. I hear the stories of what happens to kids like me and to tell you the truth I am scared shitless. I figure unless I can figure out this "gay" thing and find a way to find a boy who's like me I had better find out a way to like girls. If I can't, I'll be resigned to a life of polishing the porpoise, bopping the bishop, snapping the carrot, squeezing the old trouser mouse and only playing home, and not away games of pocket pool if you know what I mean. I call him Old Spot, the one-eyed wonder dog. The only problem is that every time I try to pet him he gets sick and throws up. So anyway, that's me, Aric Peterson and I guess I am just your average neighborhood kid if you can overlook the fact I am gay.
Eddy Tompkins is what you would call my closest friend. He hasn't a clue as to my orientation and I am not going to lose his friendship over it unless he sends a signal in my direction. This next school year as well as last year's we have and will share several classes together: English, Math, Gym and Shop. This will be our freshman year and for whatever reason Eddy is really looking forward to it. I would rather be outside and he likes hitting the books. It was in meeting Eddy that I came to help him when his house needed painting. He was pissing and moaning what a misery it was last fall and I sort of volunteered to help him. It was my first introduction to the farm and little did I know how it would impact the rest of my life and set the direction that my future would take.
With some of the money I had earned from working for the Good Doctor and helping to paint Eddy's house I was able to buy my first new ten speed bicycle with vinyl fenders and a carry rack on the back. The good old Blue Bomber was the best bike in the world to me. I meant freedom and as the name would attest it was the neatest shade of midnight blue. I further managed to trick it out with head and tail lamps, a smaller basket that went over the front tire and two side baskets that hung off of the carry rack on the back. I replaced the standard kickstand with a new version that allowed the bike to rest on two legs that would tuck neatly away on either side of the rear wheel when not in use. I liked this kickstand as it allowed the bike to remain upright rather than lean over. I could load my gear up and go camping and exploring without having to be dependent on my family. Every waking free moment that wasn't engaged in chores or work for the Good Doctor or other such stuff found the two of us pedaling off to explore as fast and as far as our legs would take us.
Eddy was the first person to introduce himself to me when we had moved into town and was also in my homeroom in school. He took the time to show me around and introduce me to some of his friends. Eddy, like me, is the youngest in his family. He is one of six siblings and I am one of three. His parents own one of the last and largest dairy farms in the county. My parents are teachers at the local Community College. My sister will be a freshman in college and my brother will start his sophomore year in September. Now, I only see them during breaks and summers. All of Eddy's siblings are boys and with the exception of his brother Ethan, none of them live at home anymore and are scattered about the local area. Ethan is the only one along with Eddy to show any interest in the farm and is off to the agricultural college in September. It's funny how much the two of them look alike even though there is four years between them. I am told all of the brothers bear a strong resemblance to each other and how much they all look like younger versions of their father. Both Ethan and Eddy have what I would call a well-muscled, swimmers build and stand about six foot tall. They have light brown hair along with deep brown eyes and have easy going personalities mirroring their father. Eddy and Ethan are very close to each other and never bicker.
I wish that were the case in my family. All it seems we do is breathe, eat, argue and sleep. Where the Tompkins farm is well managed, our house is disorganized chaos. It seems lately I spend more time up at the farm than I do at home. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and can tolerate my siblings in small doses, it just seems that we are all going ninety miles an hour in different directions. I guess you could say we ain't close but somehow manage to function. While I was best of friends with Eddy I was madly infatuated with Ethan. My pubescent hormonal surges raged throughout me whenever I was around Ethan. I wasn't sure whether it was unmitigated lust fueled by unbridled desire or an infatuation bordering a longing for a lover. No one else rang my bells like Ethan did and every other boy who remotely piqued my interest couldn't hold a candle to him. He was the sole object of my nightly bouts of unrequited passion. When the inevitable culmination occurred, it was invariably the direct result of an imaginary tryst with Ethan.
Tompkins farm is properly called Maple Hollow despite the fact it sits upon the top of the old Indian path that runs through our town, Hutchinson Massachusetts. The farmhouse sits down at the end of a long sweeping drive lines with maple trees. Sitting on the front porch you can see down the valley clear to New Hanover the next town over. In the summer, you can watch the thunderstorms work their way up the valley till they pass over and head towards the center of town some five miles down the Old Hartford Turnpike. That's where we live, in a three-bedroom house in the center of Hutchinson, a quintessential New England village. The center of town has a large common with all of the requisite war memorials and a bandstand which doubles as a deer weighing station during deer hunting season. It freaks some folks out, but as Eddy noted, any deer brought in ends up on someone's dinner table. Surrounding the town commons are the bank, town hall, three churches, along with an assortment of stores and shops and the old Hutchinson Inn and its Full Moon Bar. If you took out the telephone poles the center of town would look the same as it did a hundred years ago. Not much happens here in town or anywhere near here. Christ, there are more cows than residents of town. If I remember correctly the town population is some eighteen hundred folks or so. We are the largest by half, of the surrounding towns, and clear off to the next county.
Looking back, I suppose it was just an accident or happenstance. I was asked to help out with the first haying of the season up at the farm. As school was out and I had minimal duties with the Good Doctor's lawn I asked my folks and they were agreeable. It meant that I would be up at the farm for nearly a week. I would be driving the old tractor I first learned to drive when I had helped to paint the house. I would be pulling one of the smaller hay wagons and would follow the hay bailer and collect the bales of hay as it spat them out. Once the wagon was full I would drive over to the main barn and meet up with the farmhands working the conveyor belt that would shoot the bales up into the upper reaches of the barn. Of course, we would have to toss the bales onto the conveyor belt. Once the bales were at the top, two other farmhands would stack them. When the wagon was empty, we would head back out to the fields being mowed and repeat the process. Don't know if anyone out there has ever spent an hour, a day or a few days haying, but to me it still ranks as the hardest work I have ever done. Once the hay is mowed it has to be bailed and put away before the next rain. Wet hay, when put away in a barn becomes very dangerous. Many a farmer has lost a barn because of wet hay spontaneously combusting. What it all means is that once you start the days' work you have to finish it. As bailing takes place during the summer months it goes without saying it is very hot work. You sweat your balls of from dawn to just past sunset. As you handle the bales you can't help but get bits of hay all over you. They can and do itch like a son of a bitch. Despite all the negatives it wasn't all that bad. I got to work closely with Ethan. There was a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie working together as a team with the others. I was never as hungry or slept so well as the days I spent haying.
I suppose part of the reason other than being closer to Ethan was that I got to use my tractor. It became my tractor because I had been helping Eddy's father fix it up so he could get another season out of it. It was a lovely broken down mish mash of wear and tear. That its best days were behind it would be an understatement. When not being used for haying, it sat unwanted and unloved under an overhang at the end of one of the barns. I learned how to pass the correct wrench or socket when asked and occasionally was allowed to be more than just a grease monkey by actually swinging a wrench or two, myself. Once we had it running to his satisfaction he taught me how to drive and care for it by checking the various fluids and filters and always operating it safely.
Somehow the tractor became mine, I just adopted her and even gave her a name, I called her "Betsey". She was a 1939 Farmall and to get her going required hand cranking the engine. Some days she was stubborn as a mule but she always started. I had taken quite a shine to "Betsey" and whenever possible and as time would allow I would run her around the farm. Fuel was never a problem as I could always refill her at the fuel tank that was kept at the farm for all of the equipment. We would go out into the fields along the old cart paths and eventually down to the pond or the river for some skinny dipping. I cleared a new spot out for her to rest when I wasn't using her. I put her at the weather end of the old woodshed that abutted the workshop. Over time cans of leftover paint would disappear from the workshop and find themselves covering "Betsey's" rusted bits. The end result was a mismatched symphony of various colors on wheels.
While the farm has schedules and necessary chores it is a four hundred plus acres of fields, woodlands, streams and a pond bordered on the lowest part by the Weir River. The river gets its name from the Indian days then the natives would trap fish in weirs built into the slower shallow river bottom. The weirs were built much like a fence, or netting, out of saplings woven together through posts driven into the sandy bottom. On occasion, old arrow heads could be found by following the furrows the tractors had created from plowing the fields. Every now and then the plow blade would turn them up when they were tilling the soil. For an outdoors kid like me it was simply…paradise.
There's always a place at the table for me, a bed in the room next to Eddy's bedroom for the times I stay over and the doors are never locked. At meal times, I get about three or four bites tucked away when Mrs. Tompkins is shoveling more food at me She is convinced that I am wasting away, not eating properly and have been underfed and malnourished. It is her mission in life I figure, to see me fattened up. I keep asking her if she means to send me off with the cattle to market once she has me fattened up and filled out. That usually earns me a smack with whatever kitchen utensil she happens to be holding at the moment, followed some sort of comment as to how "nobody buys skin and bones anymore and there ain't enough of me to render into a decent cake of soap".
Mr. Tompkins or Earl as everyone calls him is a very quiet taciturn man with a very wry sense of humor. I have never seen the man get mad or frustrated and he is one of the smartest people I have met or know. He is a wise and loving father and from what I can tell and see his kids adore him and he in turn trusts them completely. The man can flat out fix anything and figure his way out of any predicament. He is constantly telling me that roadblocks in life are obstructions that test our determination and resolve. To overcome them, you simply need to figure a way around them with whatever you have at your disposal. He says there isn't a problem you can't think your way out of if you apply yourself. He is soft spoken and never has to repeat himself or ask for something to be done more than once. I watch him about the farm and I am amazed at how he manages all of the various duties. There is help of course, but to run the dairy and beef operations means you have to have good skills with the herds, equipment and help. It just amazes me to see just how easy he makes it look.
It all began the day we finished the first round of haying when I first saw Ethan's inadvertently exposed crotch on the hay wagon and later on that night when I caught him rubbing one out while flipping through a well-worn porno magazine. He never knew I was watching or caught on as to just how much I wanted him. How I got out of his bedroom without him hearing me would qualify as a minor miracle. Thank goodness, the thunderstorm hadn't abated. I was damned sure the thunderstorm masked the sounds of my retreating footsteps. Back in my bedroom I was having second thoughts. It was obvious from what I could see that the porno mag had pictures of some pretty big busted girls and while there were guys with what appeared to be pretty big dicks I was sure they were there just accessories. While there were many different groupings of couples scattered throughout the pages the predominant theme was girls with big tits. As I later found out, several of the guys were good looking and rather well hung and it amazed me that anyone could or would pose for pictures like that. Guy on girl, girl on girl and guy on guy lived on those pages of that porno mag and it was overwhelming to absorb it all and thinking about it just muddied the waters. I mean just how do you tell someone of the same sex that you want to be naked with them? If I was wrong, I would be dead meat.
I was at the age where my hormonal urges ignited by the influx of pubescent testosterone flooded my veins and arteries, creating and overwhelming need for me to 'be' with somebody, somebody just like me. This of course was evenly tempered with an equally intense forbidding fear of being caught, found out and rejected, if I had misread any signals or my plan failed. I wanted in the worst way, to hold another boy like I held myself at night in the solitary confines of my room. I needed to rub my hands slowly and gently all over their body and have them do the same to me and fully explore the places we did not see during the day or in public life.
As mentioned, it was the last day for this round of haying. As such there was no need for all of the help we had used in the days prior. We had worked in the fields since Monday from dawn till dusk. Now that it was Thursday morning there remained a few scattered bales to be picked up. It was Eddy's luck of the draw that morning that found him driving the tractor. Ethan and I would both jump off and toss the remaining bales onto the hay wagon. Needless to say, we were very tired, sore and lame by the time we finished. Fortune was with us and we had collected the last of the bales in time to make a late lunch. I needed to go home Friday morning to tend to my chores and the Good Doctor's lawn and weed his gardens. Mr. Tompkins would drop me off Friday morning after my barn chores were done. I would get a head start after lunch. Ethan was to pick me up Saturday morning around eight. I spent the remainder of the afternoon servicing the equipment we had used for haying. Oil had to be changed, fluids had to be checked and generally things made ready for the next round of haying later this summer. If I had enough time there were a few places where 'Betsey' needed touch-up and a couple of additional areas that could use some painting.
Once back to the barns and the hay unloaded and put away, we cleaned up for lunch. Ethan and Eddy also had their chores to do and I went to the barn workshop. Grabbing some sandpaper and a wire brush, I started to work on prepping the tractor for painting. To be frank, the rest of the afternoon was a blur. I wasn't able to focus as well as I wanted to. I had just seen everything I had been dreaming about and pleasuring myself nightly too. I had pretty much cleaned up the area I wanted to paint and was brushing the paint on the tractor when I was called into supper. I cleaned up everything I was working with and put everything away. We spent time after supper watching TV in the den. At nine o'clock Mrs. Tompkins reminded us it was time for bed. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of cider and said goodnight to all, then headed up to brush my teeth, pee and go to my bedroom. Once in bed I dropped my jockey shorts and grabbed hold of myself. Once my eyes were closed all I could see was Ethan with his legs parted wide on the hay wagon. I had flopped down on the lower tier of hay bales too exhausted to move any further. Ethan sat on the row above me and lay back. I went from semi hard to rock hard in a matter of seconds as I replayed what I had seen earlier that morning. He was for the most part smooth with sandy brown pubic hair. The color of his penis was a moderate tan and his scrotum was a dusky brownish purple. His circumcision scar was brown in color and the head of his penis was a moderate shade of purple. The way his balls hung reminded me of a couple of eggs in a pouch. They sagged low enough to reach the top of his ass crack. As I relived the ride back into the barn and the way everything bounced as we were jostled by the hay wagon, I came closer and closer to the edge. All I could think of during my masturbatory reverie was touching and holding him and god forbid, being close enough to suckle while I brought him to climax. The mere thought of my bringing Ethan to completion sent me finally over the edge. As I reached my peak, I stopped pumping my penis on the down stroke, let my body take over and before I knew it, I had splashed a warm gooey mess all over my belly. It was as an intense orgasm, more than anything previous. I counted four distinct ejaculations of equal intensity. I remained turgid for a bit before I could catch my breath as my tumescent penis slowly deflated. As soon as I wiped up I fell asleep to the sounds of a thunderstorm off in the distance.
I slept in the room next to Eddy and Ethan slept in the room down the hall, just before the bathroom. The doors to both my and Eddy's rooms were across the hall from two other empty bedrooms and at the opposite end of the hall from the bathroom were his parents at the front of the house. Ethan's room was down a short hallway that led to a bedroom over the mudroom. It wasn't a very big room but it afforded some privacy. As you started down the hall you passed by one of the main chimneys as it rose up through the house. Once past the chimney there were some cabinets and cupboards and then the door to his room. Once through the door you went down three steps into his room. His room and the mudroom below were an add-on to the house many years ago. As you entered his room his bed was to the left with the headboard closest to the door. Across from his bed was his bureau with a mirror on top. To the left of Ethan's bed was a small table with a drawer and on top was a lamp alongside a radio. As you descended into his room the floor was covered by a small throw rug. There were half windows on both sides as the roof arched quickly to its peak. In all honesty, his room really was a small attic room.
It was about midnight when I was awakened by two things, a crashing thunderbolt that had to have hit down by the lower barns and once awake, the urgent need to pee. As I tossed my bed sheet off I noticed I never pulled my underpants back up. Standing up and adjusting myself back into my underpants, I headed towards the bathroom hoping no one else would be up at that hour as I was sporting a piss hardon. Walking down the hall towards the bathroom I noticed the light was on in Ethan's bedroom but my need to pee overrode any other thoughts. Once I finished in the bathroom and was no longer in an embarrassing condition I headed back towards my room. Not only did I notice that the light was still on in his room but there were muffled sounds too indistinct to make out. I decided to see if he was awake as I was. As I headed down the hall towards his door the sounds became clearer, more like a soft moan. I slowed my pace and as I went through his door I could see him in the mirror on top of his bureau. He had tilted the mirror in such an angle that he could see himself in it. I could clearly see he was naked and masturbating. At his side was a porno mag. It was open to a variety of images.
He started to writhe on his bed. Drawing his legs up so the soles of his feet were touching he cupped his balls with his free hand after turning the pages of the porno one last time. There were pictures of guys on girls, girls on girls and the last picture he turned to was guys on guys. He quickened his pace and his breathing became quicker and deeper. His eyes closed, his brow furrowed and as he arched his back, he started to cum. Four or five quick shots landed all over his stomach. His body slowly relaxed and his breathing returned to normal. Grabbing some tissues, he cleaned himself off and put the porno mag away. As he reached to turn out the light another bolt of lightning hit down near the workshop. As the thunderclap hit I bolted from his room and returned to my bed all worked up over what I had just seen.
This was a banner day I thought to myself as I started jerking off for the second time that day. As I had ejaculated a couple of hours earlier, it took a little more time to cum again. When I did it wasn't as much previously, but the feeling was ever so pleasurable. I had seen Ethan naked, hard and cumming. The bonus in all of this was that there was more than a chance that Ethan may be a bit more like me…I wasn't convinced I hadn't known him to date but if I were to get that question answered, then the plan I was thinking on just might do the trick. The first step would be to confirm that he would in fact be picking me up tomorrow morning.
The next morning at the breakfast table I asked him what time he would be by to collect me Saturday morning. Turning back and smiling at me he asked if eight would be ok and I responded in the affirmative. Watching Ethan depart the kitchen had me looking at him with unadulterated lust. It was all I could do to keep my penis from getting stiff and tenting my pants. I was wondering how he would react to my plan when Mr. Tompkins brought me back to the moment, by informing me that I needed to collect my things, and be down ready to go in fifteen minutes.
Running up the stairs to my room to pack I took a detour to Ethan's room. Looking down into his trash can I noticed the soiled tissues. Carefully picking them up I brought them to my nose. They were still damp and smelled strongly of his spunk. Wanting one I carefully wrapped it in a dry tissue and placed it in my shirt pocket. Opening the drawer to his nightstand I found his porno. I opened it up to look at the pictures and found it was clearly obvious that there were several pictures that had been removed from other porno mags and collected inside. There were a lot of loose pictures of guys on guys, blow jobs and fucking. It was incredible and I knew I wanted to try everything I was seeing. Knowing I had but a short time to finish up I put the porno mag away and went back to my bedroom. I collected my things and went down to the kitchen to head home. The ride was short and Mr. Tompkins was thanking me for all of the hard work this past week. As we got to my house he gave me my weeks' pay and threw another ten bucks on top of it. He told me I could stay and work at the farm for the rest of the summer if I wanted to, with my parents' permission of course. I told him I was up for it and would have his answer tomorrow. He told me to take Ethan out to breakfast after he came to pick me up and handed me the money to pay for it. I thanked him profusely and told him that I would work as much as I could, that I loved being up there. He patted me on the shoulder and said we'll see you in the morning.
The thoughts in my mind were as if they were on a demolition derby racetrack. All sorts of competing ideas were colliding as I tried to gather and coalesce my thoughts into a coherent plan. I couldn't get past how to let Ethan know I liked him and wanted him naked beside me. While I knew that I had an infatuation and he little suspected I wanted him sexually, would he like me the way I liked him? There was always the chance he may react badly if I didn't approach this right or was incredibly wrong in my assumptions. The trick would be to create the scenario where he would approach me, I thought, let him make the first move. The question was how to go about it in such a manner that would work and allow some wiggle room. Sure, I thought, I could expose myself to him as I had thought earlier but it would have to look real, not contrived or artificial. In the meantime, I needed to get to my chores and get them done quickly. I got the Good Doctor's lawns and gardens tended to in record time. The time passed quickly as I was preoccupied with the events of the day before. I kept replaying them in my mind.
After putting everything away at the Good Doctor's I went home for lunch and to change my clothes. I put on my favorite pair of old shorts and tee shirt. My chores at home were easy, I hadn't been around much so my room was tidy and with my brother and sister departed for parts unknown, the house was relatively clean. While eating lunch, I thought some more on what I needed to do tomorrow morning when Ethan came to pick me up. Mom was talking to me and I was barely hearing her till she mentioned Dad would be golfing in the morning and she was off shopping. She was trying to ask me if I needed anything and before she went any further I looked at Mom, told her I loved her, thanks for lunch when her voice finally cut through the fog in my head. Snapping back to attention I confirmed that the house would be empty tomorrow morning when Ethan came to pick me up. Bingo I thought… I looked at Mom, again thanked her for lunch, told her that I didn't need anything picked up for me and that I loved her.
Going up to my room I set my mind back to the task that had been occupying my attention for the best part of the past twenty-four hours. I now knew I could do the deed when Ethan came to pick me up with total certainty. I knew Dad would be out of the house by seven and Mom would be gone by seven thirty. With the siblings, off to wherever, I would have the house alone. Still, the million-dollar question was how. One thought would be to leave a note on the door for him to come in and get me and I would be just coming out of the shower. Or, I could leave the note and be in my bedroom rubbing one out as he walked into my room. The only drawback was I would be fully committed and there would be no turning back if I had indeed misread the signals. If he didn't react the way I anticipated I would be left in a very compromising position. Nothing I thought of worked the way I wanted it to; it all seemed forced or artificial. I figured I had the rest of the day to work it out so I finished helping Mom around the house. When I was finished helping her I went to get my badly neglected bike. I took her for a spin to clear my head. When I came back to the house I figured I would give her a good cleaning. I wiped her down and flipped her over onto her handlebars and seat. I needed to oil the chain and clean the underside as well. As I was sitting on the back steps having finished cleaning the bike I thought this would be the ideal situation. I could do to Ethan what I saw yesterday.
While the spot I had picked was outside, there was little chance we would be spotted as our driveway came in off the street. It ran along the side of the house and cars parked facing the back of the house. Behind where the cars would park was a small back yard and beyond that, woods. You couldn't see our neighbors as our house was set back farther from the street than theirs. I could in fact, walk around naked back there if I wanted to. Now that I had the definitive location and situation; I alternated back and forth, from hot and willing, to paralyzed by complete and total fear.
Regardless of how I was wavering I needed to figure out how I would innocently expose myself to Ethan. I turned the bike mirror towards me so I could look down into it and see my crotch. To do so I would need to move the front tire towards me so it was even with my knees. By spreading my legs and adjusting my underpants I could see what I wanted Ethan to see. I also gave me plausible deniability if he reacted in a manner different than expected. I just had to have a few tools out, loosen the front tire and pretend I was having trouble fixing it when he came up the back walk to pick me up.
I figured depending on his reaction he would see very little or a whole lot more. Of course, by the time I had figured out the various angles and positions I would need to take I was as hard as a rock. I quickly put everything away and went up to my bedroom to take care of my current situation. I dropped my shorts and took hold of myself. All the while I was fantasizing I was with Ethan. I wanted to be with him and make him cum so frigging bad. Grabbing the tissue, he had used the night previous, I brought it to my face and started to smell it. I was thinking of what it would be like to suck his cock and let him cum in my mouth. Gathering up the nerve as I was about to shoot, I placed the damp part of the tissue in my mouth. The taste of him drove me fully over the edge and I spooged all over my belly. Satiated, I cleaned myself up and got dressed again. I went downstairs and watched some TV till supper and watched a little more before turning in for the night.
I lay in bed tossing and turning and wondering if I had the nerve to pull this off. It was such a huge step, the consequences of failing, not getting the reaction I desired were humongous. I had to temper it with the thought if I were to be successful I would finally be sharing myself with another. Sleep was fitful and I was hard for the remainder of the night. Finally, my alarm went off and I got up showered and dressed and was downstairs in time to see my Dad off and confirm with Mom that she would be gone by the time Ethan came to pick me up. She told me to be good, polite and careful. If she only knew what her little boy was up to I thought to myself. I told her I would and that I was offered a job for the rest of the summer. She was very pleased.
Mom finally left the house with not much time to spare giving me very little time to set my plans in motion. I had about twenty minutes. I ran up to my room as she drove out the driveway and quickly changed into a pair of my older brothers' gym shorts. They were large and hung loosely on me. I wearing my baggiest pair of worn out jockey shorts so my outfit would guarantee as little or as much exposure as needed. Leaning over to put my socks and sneakers on I confirmed what I wanted to be seen would be totally visible. I grabbed my clothes for the week, stuffed them into a grocery bag and raced for the porch with about ten minutes to spare.
I set my stuff down off to the side, grabbed the bike and tools and assumed the position. I untied my shoelaces in such a manner so they looked sloppily done as an insurance policy for making sure I would be seen as I wanted. I checked once more in the bike mirror before putting it back in the correct position. When I sat the way, I was planning to, and even better when I leaned back on my elbows, all of me was ready. It was incredibly difficult to keep my composure over the next few minutes. It was all I could do to keep myself from getting hard. I was a bundle of nerves; my mouth was dry and I was trembling. My heart was pounding so loud I swore it could be heard by others. It was a very warm morning and as such my sack was loose and my balls hung low. My penis was somewhere in a state of halfway flaccid and semi-aroused. I hung a little down to the left and I concentrated mightily on keeping it that way.
Doubts coursed through me, should I, or shouldn't I? It wasn't too late to back off and think of another approach. I had just about convinced myself to give up when I heard Ethan's jeep come around the corner to the approach to our driveway. It wouldn't be long now, just a matter of a couple minutes and one way or another, my life is going to change. Or I would continue living in the land of frustration. While my head was desperately trying to be calm, cool and collected, Old Spot is in urgent need of attention from someone other than me. He needs the hand of another. It was now or never, Ethan would be coming up the driveway in seconds. I had to make the decision and what was it going to be? As I was staring at the bike tire trying not to think of what I was about to do or chicken out, I could hear all of the slightest sounds, time slowed to a crawl. It was as if all of my senses went into overdrive. There was a slight breeze and it gently caressed by balls as the sun shown on my private places. His jeep was coming down the driveway and boldly I assumed the position. I would start off with just a bit of a testicle exposed. Bringing the jeep to a stop he hopped out and started up the walk. My heart was thumping wildly and there was an internal roaring of anticipation in my ears. My breathing grew very shallow and I felt as if I was going to explode. I don't know what's going on with my hands and arms, they tingle and quiver, my stomach feels like we are running the hurdles in the Olympics. There's a roaring in my head now and my heart beats loud enough to accompany an orchestra. I am out on a limb and the branch is being sawn off behind me.
As he is coming up the walk I notice he is wearing a tight pair of jean cutoffs. They leave very little to the imagination. His bulge is very noticeable, it's all I can see, and it's all I can remember. I don't know or remember what color his tee shirt was or any other of Ethan's features. I can see the indistinct outline of his penis as it lies over the mound of his testicles. I know what's underneath, I know what it looks like, it consumes me and I want it, as much as anything I have ever wanted. Seared in my mind's eye is the image of his white hot molten lava spewing forth. My emotions are volcanic as well, and I am on edge further than any other time in my life. There's only here and now as I slowly process unfolding events in micro seconds. Time passes slowly, ever so slowly…ever so fucking slowly. I could write a book with each half step he takes as he come closer to me. I notice little else as his legs move other than how his package is framed and moves with his motion towards me. I am consumed with the memory of what makes him unique. A distant part of me also remembers the perfection of the early morning, crystal clear blue sky, an ambient temperature so comfortable it fits like a glove. The sounds of the crickets and birds and off in the distance a dog barking, and the sounds of early morning traffic as it passes through what seems the distant center of town just outside my house. He got to the rear of the bike and asked me what was wrong. I started to speak but the words got stuck for a moment. Shit...Piss...Fuck! I can't stumble now. Managing to look up at him and stuttering forlornly I tell him I thought the tire was out of balance and I can't get it adjusted. It is all I have breath or strength to say. As he kneeled down beside the bike I made the decision that changed the rest of my life…I managed what passed for a deep breath and parted my legs.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
