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Subject: Asteroids at the Laundromat Chapter 6 Hello Nifty Readers! Thanks for all the positive feedback. So far no flames, which is great, but I’d be good with some constructive criticism ota Chapter 6 is all about Clark. I hope he is growing on you as he has on me. I was not expecting him to be as crucial to the story, but he has surprised me. Thanks as always to my editor Gamin Paramour. If you find an error in the story, it is mine, not his. If you haven’t been following his current story One Hundred Quarters https://www.//gay/young-friends/one-hundred-quarters/ then you are missing out. Also, please give to Nifty. Give until it hurts, then give some more until it stops hurting. fty/donate.html Asteroids at the Laundromat by Red Jeff Chapter 6 “Hey, it’s ok, what happened?” I asked, holding Clark’s head to my sweaty chest. “Let’s go inside, ok, get you cleaned up. You’re filthy.” “You too,” he blubbered, looking up at me. “Yeah, I guess.” I laughed, and he laughed too through his tears. “That guy whose house I graffitied caught me. He has my ten-speed.” “He has your bike? The guy with the paint can I saw you running from on Monday?” “No the one who didn’t pay, the one I did first, He saw me and grabbed me and my bike and said he’d call the cops if I didn’t go with him. He said he was going to take it out on my ass for the paintjob, and I ran when I had a chance, but he was holding my bike.” We were inside now, and I brought Clark into the bathroom to look at his face in good light. “Did he hit you?” “Yeah, he clobbered me good a couple times but I kicked him when I got away.” “You might have a good bruise here. It’s swelling up.” I helped him take off his ripped shirt and cleaned him up with a washcloth. The welt ran across his cheek and past his left eye. I got a package of peas from my freezer and put it in a dishcloth. I held this to his face and he winced but then held it in place. “Where did this happen?” “Right near his house. I wasn’t even thinking about where I was. Just riding by and he stepped out and grabbed my handlebars. I almost crashed.” “And then he took you to his house?” “He said if I didn’t come he’d call the police. He said he knew it was me that painted his house.” “Did you admit it?” “No.” “Good.” I said, thinking. “So what happened then?” “I thought he was just going to make me blow him, so I was going to just do it, you know, but when he was opening his door he said he was going to fuck my ass, so I kicked him and ran.” He held the peas from his face and looked in the mirror. It looked better already. “Where does this guy live?” “About five or six blocks from the park, over toward Chambers Street.” “Do you know his name?” “Robert or Roger?” he said. “Wait, his house has a sign that said Mayhew Residence. I remember that from when I painted it. I saw it again today. He painted over the graffiti on the house but the sign still had silver paint on it.” Clark chuckled at the thought. “I have an idea. Come into the living room.” I said. Clark sat on the couch. I tossed him a t-shirt. Depeche Mode. He looked at it, shrugged, and put it on. His AC/DC shirt went in the trash. “M-A-Y-H-E-W?” I asked, flipping through the phone book. Clark nodded. “Who is Deep Peach Mode?” He asked, looking at the shirt. “Depeche Mode is how they say it. French word, English band. Electronic Industrial. You’d like them I think. Here we are, Roger Mahew, 2715 SW Ansel St. That’s over that way, huh?” “Yeah, that makes sense `cause I was riding on 27th from the park. That’s how I get to the Plaid Pantry on Chambers.” “Tell me about this guy. What’s he look like?” I asked. “He’s old, maybe 40’s, not as tall as you. Short hair.” “Like a crew cut?” “No, just short.” He squinted his eyes, thinking. “He wears glasses.” “Ok, I need you to stay here. Lock the door and close the shades. I should be back in an hour. If I’m not home by then I need you to…” What the hell was I going to have him do, I wondered. Then I thought of the green pickup and Clark’s older friend. “Do you trust Randy?” “Uh… yeah, I guess.” I flashed on a connection just then. “Does Randy run?” “Run, like jog you mean?” he asked. “Yeah, is he a jogger?” “Uh huh, he wants me to jog with him but it’s boring.” “Ok, if I’m not back in 2 hours, you go and tell Randy everything.” “Everything?” “About the bicycle, the guy, and me going to his house to get it back.” “You’re gonna get it back?” Clark’s eyes widened. “That’s the plan.” “He said he was going to call the police.” I put on jeans and a long-sleeve rugby shirt tight enough to show my physique. I was hoping to be physically intimidating if necessary. I wasn’t certain with my obvious youth and skinny build I could pull it off. Luckily a lot of guys are intimidated by height, and that I had. When I got to 2715 SW Ansel Street I saw the Mayhew Residence sign. Why anyone advertises their name to passers-by is something I’ll never understand but in this case I was glad of it. The house was a split-level ranch with a chain link fence around the yard. Between the attached garage and the neighbor’s garage sat Clark’s ten-speed bicycle. It was still daylight, but I could see a light on upstairs on the other side of the house. I opened the gate by the driveway and walked toward the bicycle. My adrenaline was pumping. Having run more than 6 miles on hilly terrain just an hour earlier I was able to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. The bike was locked, but with only a flimsy combination cable, and, surprisingly, locked only to itself. I picked up the bike, lock and all, and walked back the way I came. “Hey! Who are you?” A man stepped out the front door and let the screen slam behind him. “I’m just grabbing my friend’s bike,” I said, calm and friendly as he moved toward me. I smiled like it was good to see him. “Is your friend a little red-headed kid named Chuck?” “I don’t know any Chuck. That’s not the guy who this bike belongs to.” The man was directly in front of me now, blocking my way. He was at least 6 inches shorter than me and probably outweighed me by 40 pounds, though mostly in potbelly and flab. “That’s my bike now, after Chuck spray painted all over my house.” His face was red and he clenched his fists. “This isn’t your bike.” I looked down at him, no longer smiling. “Maybe I should call the police, have them sort this out.” “Maybe you should,” I agreed, still not smiling. “Because you keep talking about Chuck. Isn’t that the name of the kid they arrested for prostitution over at the park last week?” “I don’t know anything about that.” The color drained from his face. “Yeah, he’s given the police some names already. Sex with a kid that young is rape. Too young to consent.” I shook my head. “Those guys might be going to prison.” “This is about vandalism, not… prostitution.” He said the last word in a hushed whisper. “I have no idea what else this Chuck kid gets up to.” “You didn’t assault anyone today? Say, stop a kid on his bike and drag him into this yard and threaten to rape him, hit him in the face and steal his bike?” “I most certainly did not.” He looked genuinely scared. “Well that’s a good thing Mr. Roger Mayhew, 2715 SW Ansel Street.” I enjoyed the look on his face when I said this, spelling out his address. “I’m glad to hear it. You better hope Chuck’s face heals and there aren’t any questions from his parents. I bet getting his bike back will help. What’s the combination?” I stepped back and set the bicycle down between us and gave Roger my best stare-down. The trick to winning a staring contest is to not actually look into your opponent’s eyes but focus on an imaginary point several feet behind them. When you look straight through their forehead you can forget your opponent and just play the game. Also, the dead-eyed look it gives you is intimidating as hell. In less than ten seconds Roger blinked. “007,” he said, defeated. “Clever.” I opened the lock and threw the cable back toward where I had found it, hitting the corner of the garage. “Hey!” He looked at me. “Hey, Roger!” I shot back, “If you see Chuck around, pretend you didn’t. Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see you if you can help it. Because if you bother him again, it won’t just be the cops. It will be some very angry fathers, uncles and brothers. Understood?” He looked at me with a red-hot hatred. But he was too weak to do anything. “Understood, Roger Mayhew?” I said louder. I could hear a car door close across the street and neighbors’ voices, but I didn’t look. “Understood.” He said under his breath. “Good, now go crawl back into your hole you fucking pig.” I smiled and rolled the bike out the gate past him. “See you around Mr. Mayhew!” I said loudly with a congenial wave as I mounted Clark’s ten-speed and headed home. I coasted into the driveway and up to my door. When I rolled the bike into the living room I didn’t see Clark. “Shaa! My bike!” His head popped up over the loft rail and looked down at me. “It could be,” I said, smiling. “I’ll sell it to you for ten dollars, how about?” “How’d you get it?” he asked, ignoring my jibe. “I convinced Mr. Mayhew that his life would be better if he didn’t know you. Or someone who very much resembles you that he thinks is called Chuck.” “Wow, thanks!” He leapt down the ladder to reach his returned bicycle, then gave me a hug that nearly took my wind. I ran my fingers through his soft red hair. “Couple things you should know, though.” I said. “If you see that guy, pretend you don’t. He should be scared enough that he won’t ever talk to you or anything else, but you steer clear of him too.” “Ok.” he said, still embracing me. “What did you tell him?” “I told him that if he messes with you that he could go to jail for a long, long time. Which is true if you wanted to turn him in to the police. I also said you had a big family of fathers, brothers and uncles who would beat his ass if they found out.” “Hah! I wish I had fathers, brothers and uncles,” he said into my chest, and I hugged him closer to me. “I couldn’t tell the police though. I’d get busted too.” “Not as bad as he would, believe me. It’s kinda like the US and USSR and nuclear weapons. Mutually assured destruction. If either side fires a weapon, we all die. We just needed to give him a taste of Ronald Reagan and let him know we have nukes too.” “He even looks a little like Brezhnev.” Clark quipped. “Hey you’re smarter than you look.” “I watch the news.” I checked his face again in the better light of the bathroom. The swelling was bahçelievler escort gone and the redness was fading. I wasn’t sure it if it would bruise. He seemed to like the attention, so I tried to lay it on thick. I had some arnica gel which was supposed to help against bruises. I applied it to his face and asked if he was hurt anywhere else. I saw a wicked thought cross his eyes, but then he said no. “And where did you put the peas?” I asked. “Why, you hungry?” he joked. “Actually, now that you mention it, I’m starved. If the peas are thawed we could start there.” “Yuck, really?” He grimaced. “I’m hungry too, but peas?” “I bet I can make something with them you will like. If not, you don’t have to eat it.” He agreed and found the frozen-pea-icepack up in my bed where he had waited for me. They were thawed and partially mushed, so I set them aside and found an onion and some garlic. Clark was happy just watching, so I explained what I was doing as I cooked. I caramelized thin onion strips in olive oil and added some tarragon and chives. When the onions were dark brown I added garlic mashed in salt then cooked it all down in some vegetable stock. Clark didn’t ask to help and seemed less inquisitive than Nathan had been when he and I cooked together. Clark was, however, very present and frequently commented at the good smells. I offered him small tastes of ingredients as I worked and he seemed content to just be near. I cut two big slices of bread from a country loaf and broiled them with olive oil and a bit of garlic. When they were nearly done I layered on a couple slices of vegan cheese and popped them back into the broiler. Clark’s eyes about bulged out of his head when I emptied the smashed frozen peas into the onion medley and mashed them to a paste. “My ice pack!” he bellowed, chuckling as I stirred the paste. “Don’t worry, these will be great!” I assured him. “Peas are gross,” he declared, crossing his arms. I ignored him and continued. I finished the mash with a bit of aged balsamic vinegar and corrected the seasoning, adding a bit of smoked salt and sweet paprika. I held the tasting spoon to Clark and he reluctantly took a small sample. His eyes widened. “That’s pretty good,” he said, surprised. “Oh ye of little faith,” I answered, which earned me a quizzical look. I slathered the mash onto the toast, put it back in to broil a few seconds more, and served it sliced on a plate with some fresh chives and more balsamic to dip into. I opened a coke which we shared straight from the can as we ate at the counter that separated my kitchen from living room. Clark inhaled his portion, complimenting my cooking as he chewed. I was pleased to see him happy after his recent trauma. I scooped the rest of the mash into a bowl and topped it with more cheese and set it in front of him with a spoon, and he made short work of it. “Maaaaan, that was good!” he said, leaning back on his stool and rubbing his tummy. He belched loudly and laughed at himself, then looked at me. I was not smiling. “Sorry,” he said, looking slightly ashamed. I smiled then and tousled his hair. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m happy you’re feeling better. I’m happy you are here.” “Because we’re gonna do stuff?” “We don’t have to. You can just hang out. Or whatever.” “But we can, right?” “What do you want?” “You talk about it more than any guy I’ve done stuff with. Its…weird.” “Talking about it is important. It’s one of the things I like about being sexy with guys rather than girls. Guys usually talk about what they like and don’t. When they are with other guys.” “Have you done it with girls?” he asked. “Yeah. They expect you to know what they want, and it all leads one place really. It’s awkward I think. Plus I just prefer guys physically.” “But you have, like, fucked a girl in her pussy?” “Yep. It wasn’t all that great.” I paused and watched him absorb this. “Do you like girls that way?” “I think so, maybe. But they’re scary and weird.” “Do you like boys that way?” “Yeah, I guess so. If I’m honest. Boys, older guys too. Randy, Nathan, you…” He looked up at me with his hazel eyes. “Does that mean I’m gay?” “You shouldn’t worry about labels. Maybe you have sex with guys now and later you’ll want to have sex with girls. I say don’t limit yourself. Do what feels right to you.” “Randy says he’s bi.” “Cool. You really like him huh?” “Yeah,” he sighed. “Nathan said you wanted to get more comfortable with butt sex so you could do it with Randy again.” “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he wants to again, but he won’t say so.” “See, you guys should talk about it. Do you want to do it with him again?” “I really want to make him happy, but I don’t want it to hurt again like it did. He doesn’t either. He was pretty upset with himself after. But if it could be like when I did it with Nathan…” “You liked that, I guess?” I smiled as I asked. He blushed. “Yeah, and so did Nathan. He wants to do it again!” “Nathan is a sweet boy.” I paused. “Sometimes you say things that hurt him, you know.” “I know, I’m trying not to.” He looked pensive. “You really like Nathan, don’t you?” “Very much,” I admitted. “Cool. He deserves someone nice like you in his life.” “Clark! That was a very thoughtful thing to say.” “See? I’m trying.” We both laughed. “Let’s talk about us, here and now, ok?” I said. “Ok.” “If we do stuff, it’s because we both want to. And it doesn’t mean that we have the right to do any of it again. That’s true of any sex stuff you do with anyone. Doing it once doesn’t mean you necessarily get to do it again. No one should have to do anything with their body they don’t want to do.” “Ok.” He was listening closely. “Legally you can’t give consent. But really that’s bullshit, you can decide what you want to do and don’t, right?” “Uh huh,” he agreed. “But, giving consent once doesn’t mean consent forever. Too many people, alpha guys especially, think it does. Like, you don’t have to let Randy fuck your ass just because he did once. You get to choose every time, and so does he. If you and I do stuff tonight it doesn’t mean either one of us has the right to expect it again.” “So this is a one-night stand?” He smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. It just doesn’t take away any future authority over our own bodies and decisions.” “Ok.” “Now, what do you want to do?” He looked down then and played with his fingers nervously and bit his lower lip. “Maybe we could start with kissing?” He looked up again. “That would be nice, Clark. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about that.” “Then maybe we can get naked and play with each other’s cocks,” he growled. He seemed to be getting more comfortable talking like this. “That’d be nice. I’d like to suck on yours again. You have a great cock.” “Heh, thanks. You too.” “Do you want to try butt stuff?” I asked. “Maybe. Like with the pink beads we used with Nathan?” He asked. “Sure. Do you want to try fucking me?” I watched his eyes for a reaction. “No…” he laughed like I was joking. “I mean… Maybe. Do you want me to?” He was sorting things out in his head. “I’d probably enjoy it, if you would.” I said. “I kinda thought you would want to fuck me.” “I do, very much. But only if you are ready and really want it. I know a couple things we can do to make it really fun and maybe hurt less.” “Will it still hurt?” “If we do it right we should be able to do it with mostly just… discomfort at first.” “Ok, I want to do all that stuff, and, I guess… Can you just kinda take the lead?” “That’s good communication. I’m happy to take the lead. It’s actually pretty exciting to have a sexy boy like you ask that. But I want to make sure we keep communicating, all right?” “Yeah, cool.” “Nathan and I have a safe word, something that if either of us says, be both stop whatever we are doing.” “Nice. Can we use it too?” “You and I need our own word, just for us. Private.” “Cool. What should it be?” he asked, animated. “Something we share, some experience, something we wouldn’t otherwise say when we are having sex.” “Brezhnev?” He asked. “Ugh. That’s too much of a turn-off.” I laughed and he sniggered. “Um, how about Atari?” I suggested. “Ten-speed!” he blurted. “You rescued my ten-speed so that’s our word!” “Ten-speed it is,” I agreed. “Let’s head to the bathroom and shower. We’re both pretty funky.” “Yes! I love your shower,” he said as he jumped from the stool and headed toward the bathroom. My eyes were drawn to his tight-fitting jeans and the plump, heart-shaped ass they covered. I wanted to massage those beautiful globes through that denim and was worried I would miss the chance. “Clark, wait for me, ok? I want to help you undress.” “Ok but hurry.” The house temperature was comfortable from the warm day, but I wanted it to stay warm for the evening so I set the thermostat to hold at 72. A warm house is more comfortable to be naked in. I checked all my window shades for privacy. I did notice that through the high windows I could see the house lights were off next door. I hoped I didn’t have to worry about anyone standing on a chair to look in again. In the bathroom Clark was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling off his socks. I asked him to stand and I pulled the Depeche Mode shirt off his torso. “You have really nice skin,” I told him as I ran my hands down his neck and chest. “Most guys with red hair and your complexion have dry skin.” I turned him sideways and massaged his chest and back. He started to undo the top button of his jeans, but I moved his hands away. “Let me do that,” I said, “but first raise your arms.” I sat down on the closed toilet seat and ran my fingers into his pits. He had only two or three thin soft red hairs there, and I pulled on one gently. “Ouch!” he laughed. “Don’t pull them all out.” “Sorry,” I whispered, and kissed him there, finishing with a lick. I moved my mouth to the front of his smooth soft chest and found a large pink nipple and teased it to hardness with my tongue. I ran my hand down his flat soft tummy and inched it into the front of his jeans. I breached his underwear and he inhaled sharply, then sucked in his abdomen to give me room in his tight jeans to move further and cup his hard penis and testicles. I continued suckling his nipples, one, then the other as I fingered his ballsack and palmed his erection, applying pressure to the warm shaft. I could feel him working his pelvic floor muscles to pulse his cock against my hand. I was able to undo his top button and unzip his fly, giving me room bakırköy escort to reach my other hand onto the seat of his jeans and cup his round bottom. His pelvic flexing continued and his meaty glutes joined in as I caressed his sweet ass. Both my hands occupied, Clark took the opportunity to reach for my head and grasp two handfuls of my hair, pulling my mouth up to meet his own. He was the aggressor as we kissed, plunging his strong tongue into my mouth and vocalizing as he explored my lips, teeth and gums. By now my cock was painfully rigid in my jeans. I broke our kiss to breathe and stood, grasping his penis and turning him toward me. His hand went to my crotch pawing at my stiffness through the denim. “Undo my pants and I’ll get yours,” I said, and he pulled open the buttons, shucking my pants to my knees. He dropped my briefs just far enough to let my long cock poke out and my balls hang over the waistband. He began stroking me firmly. I pushed his hands away and sat, drawing him in again between my legs. His hands went to my shoulders. I pulled my hand out of his pants and quickly undid his zipper, skinning his jeans down to expose his bright white unders, his teen cock pushing up toward the elastic waist. I bent and nuzzled his cotton-clad erection with my nose and lips while reaching behind and running my hands into the leg openings to grope his soft, smooth globes. I could feel the ridge of his firm cockhead with my lips, and I playfully worked it with my tongue and teeth, soaking the front of his tighty-whities with my saliva. My fingers danced in his cleft, moving between his coccyx at the base of his spine to his perineum behind his balls. I teased and tickled his taught little anus but didn’t yet attempt entry. Clark’s hands each grasped a fistful of the hair on my head, pushing my face harder into his cock. “I really need you to suck me now. Pleeeeease!” he cried. I pulled his briefs down to his bunched pants and his cock sprung up and hit me in the face. He was out of his pants and underwear with two quick steps, bouncing his erection against my nose and lips as he did so. Still gripping my hair, he pushed my head down toward his pink cock, aiming for my mouth. I was able to turn and block his shot with my cheek and grabbed him firmly by the shaft and balls. “Suck on my finger,” I said, pulling my head away from his grasp. “Then you can fuck my face if you want.” He did as I requested, coating the offered digit with his saliva. “Are you going to finger my ass?” he asked when I removed my finger from his mouth. “I’ll be as gentle as you are,” I said, and slid my mouth down his warm penis. I found his pucker with my wet finger. Pushing down on his hips to open him up, I worked my fingertip around his ring. “Oooh, that’s nice,” he cooed as I slurped him and explored his pucker, moving his hips against me in both directions. “You seem pretty clean down here?” I said, having let his plunging cock pop out of my mouth. “Umm…” he hesitated as I continued to massage his entry. “I cleaned up after I went… after I used your bathroom. When you were out getting my bike. Hope that’s ok.” “Of course. You cleaned up well, it seems.” I said, teasing the entry a bit more. “Yeah, I figured we might, you know…” “Yes I do know. Now push against me a little.” He pushed and my finger popped through his sphincter a knuckle deep. I resumed bobbing on his warm stiff cock, working it with my tongue while curling and twisting my finger in his ass. His vocalizations assured me he was enjoying my ministrations. “Fuck, that’s nice. If you don’t slow down I’m going to cum,” he announced. I pulled my mouth off his cock and looked up at his face, flush with excitement. The few freckles across his nose and cheeks were more prominent with the exertion and color he now showed. “If you cum will you be able to again soon?” I asked. “Yeah probably in a few minutes. I can usually 5 or 6 times in a day.” “And have you today?” “Just this morning when Nathan sucked me,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Nate’s a horndog!” I smiled and Clark chuckled. I was still knuckle-deep in his ass and holding his cock. “How late can you stay here tonight?” “No one is expecting me. I can sleep over of its ok.” He twitched his cock in my hand, and mine twitched hearing what he’d said. “Your mom won’t wonder?” “I sleep at Nathan’s most nights. It’s Wednesday so she won’t worry. Sunday is when I’m supposed to eat at home and usually sleep there too.” “What about Ginny then?” “She don’t talk to my mom. They don’t like each other. Nathan told her I’m not coming over tonight. He set this all up, you know.” I chuckled to myself. Nathan! “Ok, let’s see how fast you can cum,” I said, and plunged back down on his pink prong. “Yes!” he announced and began fucking my face, holding my head steady and pistoning against my willing tongue and palate. I worked my index finger in another knuckle deep and massaged his stiff `taint with my thumb while my other hand held his asscheeks and he pumped. “Oh, yeah, use your tongue like that, take my cock,” he commanded, on the edge of talking dirty. I hoped he might get theatrical about it but he kept things pleasant. I wondered what sorts of things the men who paid him for fellatio had said to him when he was blowing them. Maybe it was better that he kept his language complimentary at this stage of our relationship. We could talk about role playing another time. “Oh, man, Jeff, I’m going to cum in your mouth, oh my God…” He tensed and held my head tight to his crotch as his penis flexed and spasmed. My finger in his ass and thumb on his perineum felt the contractions as his orgasm swept through him and he erupted three strong jets of watery semen into my mouth. I savored his emission, working my tongue into his urethra and around the head of his cock until it was too much and he pushed me off. “That was fucking hot!” I said, looking up at his glassy-eyed face. “Yeah it was. You’ve done that before.” He smiled at his own joke. “Maybe,” I replied, and we both laughed. “Let’s get in the shower. I want to wash your sexy body all over.” I soaped up a washcloth and ran it over my wet bod while Clark stood in the warm shower stream, eyes closed. He held his arms across his chest and let the water run through his hair, wetting his face. He skin showed starkly pale against the backdrop of blue ceramic. His chest, arms, torso and legs glowed white, only interrupted by the sparse red patch of fine hairs above his penis. He was flaccid now and his cock and balls the same color as the rest of his skin. He opened his eyes and smiled up at me through his wet red bangs, watching me wash myself, then frowned. “I wish I had muscles like you. Or like Nathan even,” he said. “You’ve got a great bod,” I assured him, “you are way more muscular than Nathan.” “Nuh uh,” he exclaimed with a sneer, “You can totally see Nathan’s muscles.” “Nathan is built differently than you. He’s also two years younger and just about to hit puberty, while you are in the full throes.” “Hmmph,” he grumbled. “Come here,” I said. “Let’s talk about your body.” I moved him toward me and spun us around so my back was in the shower stream and Clark was in front of me, facing away. I put a hand on his thigh. “Make a muscle here,” I said, my mouth at his wet ear. He flexed his quad and I squeezed the firm muscle. “Nice,” I whispered into his neck, nuzzling him. He giggled. “And here,” I said, my hands up on his pecs, feeling the firmness there beneath his soft skin and a layer of subcutaneous fat. He put his arms out and flexed as though doing a chest press, and the muscles beneath my hands jumped. “Dude, that’s so hot.” “Now your stomach,” I said, placing my hands flat against his abdomen, fingertips brushing his fine pubes. “Just crunch forward like doing a sit-up,” I instructed. I felt the soft skin and thin layer of fat fold beneath my hands while the muscles beneath contracted. My cock was pointing straight up and riding against his lower back. I reached lower and cupped his smooth balls and semi-erect cock, palming him to full turgidity. “I wish you knew how sexy you are,” I said. “Ok, I have some muscles,” he said, still giggling, “but I wish you could see them.” “These are the key.” I held his scrotum firmly, but not firmly enough to be painful. “By the sound of your voice and the size of these boys, I’d say you are fully into puberty. Now is your chance to make your body the way you want.” “Yeah? How?” “When your voice starts to change is when your growth spurt will likely happen. Your voice has been changing recently, yeah?” “Yeah, I guess.” “I’m also guessing there has been some recent spurt here,” I said, again massaging his whole package. “Uh, yeah.” “Cool. It’s probably going to get a lot bigger.” “I hope.” “The next year or two you will probably grow in height also, and your body will adjust. You have a nice layer of what some call `baby fat’ that will likely melt away if you are active.” “I’m active!” “You ride your bike, that’s good. What else do you do?” “Gym class.” “That’s lame.” I scoffed. “Fat kids just do gym class. You’re not a fat kid.” “I don’t want to be a fat kid.” “The next few months and years are crucial then. If you’re active and exercise you will grow into a very fit young man. But I wont lie, you have the type of body that could easily grow obese if you just sit around and play Atari.” “What do you do?” he asked, turning now toward me. He put a hand on my pec, glancing down at my upright erection. “I run and work out. I play Ultimate in a league. Hockey in the winter.” “Ultimate?” “Frisbee soccer, more or less,” I explained. “Hey, doesn’t Randy want you to run with him?” “Yeah, he’s always bugging me about that.” “Nathan rode his bike while I ran yesterday. It was fun. Maybe you guys should try that.” “Yeah that’d be cool.” “But if you ran with him regularly your baby fat would melt away. Plus right now with your balls making testosterone like crazy you could really put on some good permanent muscle.” “Could I look like you?” he asked, running his fingers across my abs. “You could get pretty cut if you tried. You are always going to be muscular but getting definition will be your challenge. I’m the opposite. I have very little fat even if I eat like a pig, but building muscle is a challenge. I pretty much lived at the gym when I was your age.” His hands had moved to my stiff cock and he was playing with my foreskin. I sensed he was growing balgat escort bored with my harangue on physical fitness. I pushed his hands away and he grumbled. I spun him back around and lathered him with the soapy washcloth. As I washed his parts I told him what I liked about them; the way his ass jutted out as it met his lower back, the way his thighs narrowed slightly where they met his pelvis, the way the abductor tendon showed proud at his groin when I had him squat slightly to wash his balls. I told him about how his smooth thighs met his growing knees turned me on, the way his trapezoid muscles met his neck and back and the small hidden knobs of the spine made me want to taste him all over. “You make me feel really sexy,” he said, and I kissed his head. “I’m going to wash your hair and your butthole, ok?” I asked. “Uh, ok, I guess…” he chuckled and gave me a curious look over his shoulder. I squeezed some shampoo on his wet copper mullet and massaged his scalp with the suds. I could smell the tea-tree oil in the soap as I worked. “Wow that tingles!” he exclaimed. “Nice huh?” I asked, and he purred agreement. “I’m going to use it on your butthole now, and its going to tingle a bit, but it should feel good. Push against my finger, ok?” I turned him sideways and sat on the bench. He steadied himself with a hand on my shoulder. I took a handful of the thick lather and worked it about his crevice and another handful on his balls and `taint below. He squatted and bent slightly at the waist giving me easy access. I rubbed the soapy pad of my thumb against his pucker, massaging it but not attempting entry. “Ten-speed.” he said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the flowing water. As soon as it registered, I took my hands off him and held them up, palms out. “Woah, sorry, did that hurt?” I asked, genuinely concerned. His smile was wicked and his eyes sparkled. “Just testing!” he sang. “The safe word is sacred. I’ll always respect it.” I still had my hands up. “It’s ok, you can touch me some more,” he said, rubbing his tush against my knee. I continued where I left off, rubbing his balls and soft behind, working fingers into his cleft. I avoided getting any suds on his stiff penis, as the tea-tree oil in the shampoo was a very mild anesthetic, and while it felt really nice on scalp and balls and butthole, it could be a bit too strong a tingle on an erect cock. I met his pucker again with my middle finger, circling the orifice as Clark’s push and my pressure worked his ring slightly open. “Ooooh, that’s cool,” he said, “Really tingles, wow.” I rotated the pad of my finger and was able to gain entry as Clark sucked in a shallow gasp. “Ok?” I asked. “Yeah, keep going.” Keeping my fingertip inside his warm hole I reached between his legs with my other hand and worked more suds into place, massaging his perineum as I went. I wiggled in another knuckle, then further still as he moaned and encouraged me to continue. “Fuck, that’s nice, put it all the way in.” he said, his voice warbling between boyish fluidity and teenaged crackle. I obliged his request, moving my finger as far as I could inside him, feeling the soft smooth tissue of his rectum. I moved my finger in a fucking motion, in and out several times, and Clark responded with sharp boyish ooohs. “Turn around,” I said, removing my finger, and spinning him one-eighty by the hips. I reached my soapy finger between his legs from the front while holding his ample cheeks with my other hand. Penetration was fairly easy as he was soapy and still open from the first explorations. Now I was able to diddle his tight little hole with my fingertip while palming his balls, just teasing his anus with the first knuckle. He bucked against me, seeming to want more than I was giving. His hips thrashed wildly and his hand on my shoulder dug into my flesh with strong fingers. He moved his free hand to mine, pushing me further into his hole. His cock was glistening wet, and a drop of clear viscous fluid appeared at the slit. I let him guide me all the way up into his tunnel, then leaned over and pushed his hand away with my head and gobbled up his pink spike, savoring the tiny drop of precum. “Oh fuck… Uhhhhm, Fuck yes… Oh yes.. Fuuuuck!” Clark’s moans had turned to near screams, and I worried about his young vocal chords as well as the sounds carrying outside the apartment. I held my tongue firmly around his cock, concentrating on staying on his tight frenulum. It wasn’t easy as he bucked and held my head. My finger was fully inserted in his rectum and from this angle I was able to curl up and find his prostate, massaging the lump from within. I worried I would hurt him, gripping his ass with one finger inserted, thumb hooked around his prominent abductor tendon beside his balls, but it was all I could do to keep him from jerking out of my arms and mouth. He seemed to have no such worry about hurting me, as he gripped me by the hair and forced my nose into his pubic mound, cumming violently and vocally. “Fuck, oh fuck oh fuck!” he cried repeatedly as his cock spasmed, his prostate jerked on my finger and his anus clamped down hard on my finger, pulsating rapidly with his heartbeat six or seven times, then slowing. He gasped in relief and I pulled off his deflating penis. “Oh my God… that was the best… one ever,” he said between breaths. I began to remove my finger and he let out a high yelp as I slipped free. I thought he was reacting to the sensation of my finger leaving him but soon discovered I was mistaken. “The water is freezing!” he chirped. “I guess we used up the hot,” I said as we both scrambled to shut the water off. “Shit!” he said. His hair was well rinsed but his crotch was slimy with soap. I wrung out the washcloth and wiped his balls and ass. I opened the shower valve slightly and rinsed the cloth then repeated, ignoring his protestations of it being too cold. “We could turn the water back on and do a polar bear rinse.” “No way!” he said, chuckling, and pushing the wet cloth away. “Then let me just get the last of the soap, ok?” “Ohhh Kaaay!” he said, making a show of his resignation, then laughing again. Once out of the enclosure we began to dry each other. He was pink where he wasn’t pale; rosy cheeks, tummy and face. I re-evaluated my assessment of his growing body as I dried him. He wasn’t `plump,’ the word I’d used in my mind before, but rather dolphin-like — smooth, muscular, sleek. He did an adequate job of drying me, working my legs, midsection, back and chest. I took the towel from him and dried my own hair. As I did he fondled my semi-erect cock, bringing it quickly to full mast. He cupped my balls and felt the skin behind, and my thighs. “Most guys have hair here,” he said, hand on my balls. “I’m lucky, not much hair,” I replied. He looked at me dubiously and ran his fingers through my curly blond bush. “And I get waxed sometimes,” I admitted. “What’s that?” he asked, his mouth open and eyes on mine, his hands slowly stroking me. “I go to a place where they use wax to remove hair I don’t want. I’m embarrassed because it’s kind of vain of me.” “Why not just shave?” he asked, and then brushed his lips against my cockhead. “Shaving hurts there. And there is stubble which sucks.” “Sucks, heh.” He chuckled and licked a bead of pre-cum off my slit. “Want me to suck?” “Not yet. There’s other things I want to do.” I wiggled my eyebrows and he mimicked the action. “Also, waxing sometimes keeps the hair from coming back at all, and if it does its softer and thinner.” “What parts do you get waxed?” “I get what’s called a `full Brazillian,’ which is everything from my belly button down around to my lower back. Minus the bush I have them leave, obviously.” “Your butthole too?” he asked, inching his hand that direction. “Yep. Wanna feel it?” I asked, spreading my legs to give him room. He knelt on one knee and ran a soft finger between my legs. I felt it brush my `taint and rub smoothly around my asshole. He had his other hand on the outside of my thigh and I noticed for the first time his long, strong fingers. His nails were trimmed and clean. Curious. “Wow that’s nice. Smooth and soft. You’re like a guy my age but with a really big cock.” He smiled, and then my thoughts were interrupted by pressure from his finger directly on my hole. “That’s nice, Clark,” I said, stroking his damp head, “but it won’t go in dry.” He left his finger there, wiggling a little but not trying to get in, and locking eyes with mine, took the head of my cock in his mouth. I thought of my earlier staring contest but couldn’t bring myself to look past the vivid scene before me. Our eyes remained locked while he worked his tongue until I blinked. He let my cock pop out his mouth, his lips glistening with saliva. “What do I have that I can make it wet with?” he asked, hazel eyes widening as he asked. I didn’t bother responding but watched lasciviously as he took his own finger between his wet lips and coated it with split. He held it up for me, dripping with spit. Holding my cock and balls out of the way reached back in to find my asshole. I felt the slimy finger press and then penetrate, and I pushed against it as it slid to the hilt. “Fuck, that’s warm in there.” He said, smiling and looking at me as though for approval. “Move it around. That feels really nice.” I stroked his head and jawline. He was busy exploring my anus, his tongue clamped in the corner of his mouth in concentration. More precum had appeared on my glans, and when he noticed he gave me a devilish look and licked it clean with a broad stroke of his tongue. “I want to try to deep throat you while I finger fuck you, ok?” His eyes pleaded. “Yeah, ok, but stop when I say when. I don’t want to cum yet.” He opened his mouth and quickly took me deep, his tongue out and throat open. I kept my hands on his damp head but made sure to apply no pressure. He gurgled as he swallowed my cockhead two or three times in rapid succession then came up for breath before tonguing my crown and nibbling on my retracted foreskin. He’d lost concentration on my asshole and I pulled his hand away, his finger sliding out easily. “Are you going to fuck my ass?” he asked, still holding my cock against his face. “Maybe. I’d like to.” I ran my hands across his face, pushing his hair away from his forehand and wiping the spit from his mouth and chin. He stuck his tongue out in an effort to catch my finger but missed, laughing at the failed attempt. “Are you going to fuck my ass?” I asked. “I’d really like that.” “Yeah. I am.” He blushed. I pulled him up to me, and reached an arm down around his behind, pulling him off the ground in my embrace. He hooked his legs around my middle, his cock poking me in the stomach, and we shared a deep passionate kiss. “Let’s head up to the loft,” I said, and he hummed his consent. End Chapter 6