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Lawn boy, part 1/3


All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
From kaiwan.kaiwan.com!wetware!sgigate.sgi.com!swrinde!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!aon.penet.fi Wed Aug 16 19:10:12 1995
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Path: kaiwan.kaiwan.com!wetware!sgigate.sgi.com!swrinde!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!non.penet.fi
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: [email protected] (Frank Castle)
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Reply-To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, 4 Aug 1995 16:21:22 UTC
Subject: REPOST: Lawn Boy (mm pedo) 1/3
Lines: 408
Xref: kaiwan.kaiwan.com alt.sex.stories:83541

[Lawn boy, part 1/3]

LAWN BOY
by Gamin Paramour <[email protected]>

The door chimes still echoed in the entrance foyer as I pulled the big oak
door open with some difficulty, due to the tight weatherstripping I was
always
meaning to replace. The mid-afternoon sun made me squint as it hit me in the

face, accustomed as I was to the relatively dim glow of the computer screen I

had been slaving over most of the day. I was expecting some salesperson, or
perhaps the UPS man bearing yet another item my wife had purchased over the
phone, but instead found a pleasant surprise.

It was Joey, one of the two youngsters who had been cutting my lawn once a
week
for a couple of months. I had never seen him without his partner before, and
I
stuck my head out the door and looked both ways fully expecting to find the
ubiquitous Patrick lurking just out of sight. Joey was alone, though, and
stood there smiling sheepishly and saying nothing. It occurred to me then
that
the boys had cut the lawn only two days before, leaving me to wonder what
good
fortune had sent young Joey my way this day.

If one of them were absent I much preferred it be Patrick. There was
something
I didn't quite like about that boy, though he had never been anything but
polite to me and he did just as fine a job on the lawn as his partner. I
think
it was simply that I found Joey so much more attractive than Patrick, both
physically and psychically. Patrick had an off-putting aura, but Joey's
vibes
were sheer joy.

Though they were apparently "best friends", and probably in the same grade
and
the same age, Joey appeared noticeably younger than Patrick. This, I'm sure,

accounted for a large part of my preference for him. They were probably 13,
but while Patrick could easily pass for 15, Joey could have been barely 12 to

look at him. He was dressed in his usual manner; long, oversized T-shirt
with
the name of some obscure rock band emblazoned across it, baggy blue jeans cut

off just above the knees, short white socks and ratty high-top basketball
shoes. He was slim almost to the point of skinny, his short brown hair
nearly
blond after a June spent practically full-time in the sun. His brown eyes
were
dark as ever, though, and his brow and his upturned nose wrinkled a bit as
he,
too, squinted in the bright sun. He was gorgeous.

"Hi," I offered, when his silence threatened to become uncomfortable.

"Hi," he replied, and looked down at his shoes. I followed his gaze
downward,
wondering if he was trying to indicate something on the ground, but there was

nothing there. As always, I took the opportunity to take in the sight of his

lovely, smooth, tanned calves. Joey had exceptional legs, and I had even
been
known to gaze at them through binoculars from an upstairs window as he and
Patrick marched back and forth behind their mowers, his legs and arms being
the only flesh he had ever revealed. I had checked out Patrick's, too, but
he
was much too far gone to puberty to interest me. Now I forced myself to look

back at Joey's face, having paused much too long already on his hairless
gams.

"Um," he began hesitantly, "can I talk to you a minute?" His voice was high
and soft.

"Yeah, sure," I said, holding the storm door open wide. "Come on in."

He hesitated just a second, then brushed past me into the cool house. I
could
smell his hair as he passed, fresh and slightly soapy as if he had recently
showered. He smelled wonderful. I hoped he was not there to tell me he
couldn't do the lawn anymore. I had begun looking forward to Joey's weekly
visits, though we had never exchanged more than about 50 words in any one
conversation, and even that had been while negotiating payment for the boys'
lawn services. Since then it was pretty much, "Hi, Hi, Want us to do your
lawn today?, Sure. OK, Thanks." And it was usually Patrick who said that
much.

Joey stood in the middle of the family room, smiling but looking uncertain. I

invited him to sit on the sofa, and finagled to sit next to him, but not too
close. He sat on the front edge of the seat, his forearms on his knees,
looking like a sprinter in the blocks preparing for a fast takeoff. The boy
was clearly nervous and excited.

"Is anybody else home?" he suddenly blurted.

"No, we're alone. Why"

Joey licked his lips and brushed his hair back off of his forehead. It was
an
adorable gesture.

"Well, I've kinda noticed that you sort of look at me funny sometimes..."

Oh God, I thought. He's noticed my interest in his body. I glanced out the
window, half expecting to see police cars.

"...and I even saw you looking at me with binoculars last time we cut the
lawn."

He didn't seem angry, I suddenly noticed. If anything, he seemed
embarrassed,
and in fact he smiled sheepishly at me. "Does it make you uncomfortable
when
I look at you, Joey?" I asked, making a point of holding his eye contact.

He looked down again, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. "No, I guess
not.
It's the same way my Uncle Jerry looks at me."

Ah...so that's the deal. "And you like it when Uncle Jerry looks at you,
don't
you, Joey?" I used my friendliest and most reassuring tone of voice.

Joey looked me in the eye of his own volition for the first time, a look of
mutual understanding passing between us. I could see the longing in his
bright
brown eyes, as he reached out for someone to be honest with. "Yeah, I guess
I
do." he said, smiling warmly this time instead of sheepishly. "I like being
with my Uncle."

I checked the mantle clock to be sure it was not too close to my wife's
arrival
home from work. It was only 2:30, and she rarely got home before six. Joey
was still smiling at me, and for the first time I saw his eyes travel over me

the way mine had traversed his body so many times. I leaned closer to Joey,
and after the slightest hesitation he leaned closer to me. I saw his eyes
close just before our lips met. The kiss was soft and tentative, a brief
exploration. His eyes fluttered open and gazed into mine expectantly, and
when
he saw the acceptance in my expression the tension immediately evaporated
from
his his small body, like an air mattress when you pull the plug. He smiled
broadly and leaned in for another. I wrapped my arms around his slender
frame
and kissed him deeply, marveling at the moist tenderness of his young lips.

He felt even slimmer than he looked, but still firm and robust. He was wiry,

not skinny, and reasonably well-muscled for a boy not yet into puberty. It
thrilled me to realize that I would soon know for sure the progress of Joey's

maturation, since up to now I had only surmised from his lack of leg hair and

high voice. I had never yet even caught a glimpse of his underarm up the
sleeve of his T-shirt, which was one of my favorite peeks while cruising
young
boys. I find it a major turn-on, as a smooth, hairless armpit is an
excellent
indicator of a boy still immature enough for my interest. It's true the
underarm hair doesn't usually appear until somewhat after the pubic area, but

actually I rather like a small amount of pubic hair, and in fact the taste of
a
barely-pubescent boy's first drops of cum is a delicacy in my book far
surpassing caviar. Once he begins to take on the rough and wizened look of
the adolescent, though, he's not a boy anymore, and my interest fades faster
than the smoke of July 4th.

I was surprised to feel Joey's small wet tongue push against my lips, but I
eagerly allowed it entrance into my hungry mouth. We frenched deeply, and I
pulled him closer to me such that his flat chest pressed against mine, then
turned us so that he rolled on top of me. His slight weight felt wonderful
against my chest, and his warmth enveloped me. Still kissing like new
lovers,
I found his small, round butt and squeezed it with my two hands. He ground
his hips against me in response, and I suddenly became aware of the small,
bone-hard appendage pressing into my lower belly. He pressed it into me with

urgency, and I made a mental note to send old Uncle Jerry a thank-you note.
I
rearranged him a bit so that I could press my own straining erection against
his thigh.

After a few more minutes of this wrestling I could feel the wetness of my
lubrication leaking into my underwear. I decided it was time to raise the
stakes. I traced my hands up from his butt to his sides and began to raise
his T-shirt. A moan escaped him as he lifted slightly to allow the shirt to
pass his chest, then broke our kiss just long enough to pull the T-shirt off
over his head. As he did so I saw those two perfectly hairless armpits in
all
their glory, and I was suddenly very anxious to see the rest of his sweet
young
body. I rolled us onto our sides on the sofa and fumbled with the snap of
his
cutoffs. It opened suddenly and between the pushing of my hands and the
flailing of his legs the shorts were on the floor in a matter of seconds. I
reached between his slender thighs and felt the outline of his impossibly
stiff
young member through the bright white underpants. It was small and hot, and
I
needed to see it immediately. I broke the kiss and gently pushed him onto
his
back, sliding down until my knees were on the floor. I slipped my fingers
inside the elastic waistband and was about to reveal the object of my
frenzied
lust when Joey's high voice stopped me.

"You won't make me do anything I don't want to do, will you?"

Though I sincerely doubted I could think of anything this boy wouldn't want
to
do, I smiled and reassured him. "No, Joey, of course not. If there's
anything
you don't like you just tell me and I won't do it," I said. "And, of course,

if there's anything you do like just tell me that, too, and I'll do it for
you.
The point here is to have fun and make each other happy, right?"

"Yeah, that's what Uncle Jerry says, too," the boy sighed, leaning back
contentedly. "Okay, I guess you can blow me now."

The vulgarity sounded strange coming from this shy lad, but it fit my mood
perfectly. I slid the underpants down his narrow hips and was overjoyed to
find a perfectly shaped, perfectly hard, perfectly hairless young cock just
trembling with excitement and anticipation. I helped him kick the briefs all

the way off and he automatically spread his legs in preparation for my oral
ministrations.

It had been a long time since I had been with a boy. My wife knew all about
my
proclivities and said it didn't matter, as long as I gave up the chickenhawk
life. She said it was the same thing as a straight playboy giving up other
women when he gets married, and I saw her point, so I had not cruised for
boys
in several years. Not that I didn't look when I had the chance, such as with

Joey over the past months, but I never went out cruising anymore and I never
touched, only looked.

This was different, though. This was some kind of gift, which I was not
about
to pass up. Joey was searching desperately for a kindred spirit. He had
found
one in me, and it couldn't be clearer that he wanted this to happen.
Wouldn't
matter in a court of law, of course (nor if my wife came home unexpectedly,
which would lead to Divorce Court I am quite sure), but it made all the
difference in the world to me.

I knelt there looking up at him, drinking in his youthful beauty. It took
only
a few seconds to memorize him in every detail. Even now I can see him
reclining there on the sofa, his slender but muscular thighs parted wide,
giving
himself to me willingly, even eagerly. His head was thrown back in a
rapturous pose, eyes tightly closed as if to shut out the whole world except
for the sensations that would envelope him. His arms splayed out on the sofa

to either side, absolutely relaxed, trusting me completely. All his
apprehension and nervousness was gone. He was in his element at last.

I was pleased to see that his ribs did not show through his translucent young

skin. His chest was flat and smooth, both small nipples firmly erect. They
were not the tiny pinpoints I had seen on so many boys, nor were they the
flattened "pencil erasers" many adults have, but were more like blunt pink
cones set in the darker pink of his small aureole. I remember the rippling
folds of skin across his slim stomach as he half-lay, half-sat on the sofa;
if
he were lying flat there would be no excess at all. His cute belly button
was
buried in one of those folds, an "outie" I had noticed earlier. Below the
folds the smooth hairless skin flattened out again into the white, untanned
triangle of his pubes. And there, standing at firm attention, was the
pulsing,
pink-crowned, four-inch boy dick. It angled back up his flat belly a bit,
which made it nearly horizontal in his half-sitting position. It wasn't
long,
by my experience with boys his age, but it was meaty and ready. The pink
head
was smaller than the largest part of the shaft, and his circumcision scar was

fairly wide accentuating that fact even more. Just below, his hairless balls

were loose and relaxed, the sack wrinkled only in the front and taut around
the
sides. He sat with his butt nearly off the edge of the sofa, so below his
beautiful balls I could see the small, brownish pucker of his anus, also
completely relaxed. I took a good look at his pretty butthole, wondering
just
how far his lovemaking had gone with Uncle Jerry, but it didn't look to me as

if it had been stretched. I didn't know if that pleased me or not. In this
few seconds young Joey burned himself into my memory.

It was time. I leaned forward and took his slender hips in my big hands. I
felt him tense just a bit at the touch, but I knew it was excitement rather
than fear or a sudden change of mind. I bent and lightly touched my tongue
to
the very tip of his cock. He gasped audibly, and I quickly took just his
small
cockhead between my lips. Cupping my tongue so that it made maximum contact
with the underside of his quivering boner, I slid my mouth down steadily
until
my upper lip touched the ultra-smooth skin of his pubes and my lower lip
encountered the silky softness of his young scrotum.

"Ohhh," Joey moaned as my mouth hit bottom. "Oh man!"

I replied with a deep "Mmm" sound from my throat, which I meant as a "yummy"
sound, for this boycock was the tastiest morsel I'd had in years. I pulled
back off the now spit-coated organ until once again only the head was
engulfed,
then plunged back down to the hilt again even faster than the first time. I
sucked firmly in the "down" position for maybe fifteen seconds, then repeated

the pumping action four times in quick succession. The last time as I
plunged
back down I felt Joey buck his hips up to meet my mouth, and I noticed how
heavily he was breathing. He was about as excited as any boy I'd ever been
with.

"Oh, yeah, suck me!" the boy exclaimed. "God it feels good!"

I stayed in the "down" position again for a long time, maybe a minute,
flicking
my tongue over every square inch of his turgid flesh the whole time. I also
reached up and began to barely touch one of his erect nipples, tracing my
fingertips across the sensitive protuberance with a feather-light touch. He
clearly responded, sucking in his breath at the touch and arching his back as

if to push his chest closer to the source of the exquisite sensations. His
nipple grew even more sharply erect, and he ground his cock into my mouth
with
renewed vigor. I reached up and began massaging the other nipple as well,
gently pinching them between thumb and forefinger until I thought he couldn't

stand it anymore.

He grabbed the back of my head with his hands and initiated my pumping motion

again. I rapidly fucked his young cock in and out of my mouth, and he thrust

his slim hips in a roughly matching rhythm until I could feel his sweet, soft

balls gently slapping my chin as we met somewhere over the sofa. His dick
seemed longer and thicker as we bucked, and I knew he was reaching a peak,
one
of many I hoped. I sensed him get to the edge, and I pinched both his pert
nipples fairly hard while I sucked strongly on his quaking member, sending
him
over like Niagara in a barrel.

Joey's ass muscles clenched convulsively as he drove his straining cock as
deeply into my mouth as he could. Noises I wouldn't have dreamed possible
from
so young and soft-spoken a boy escaped his throat as he came. He peaked for
at
least ten seconds, his little balls straining to shoot the life-giving juice
that wouldn't be there for a year or so at least. I rode his orgasm past the

end, still clenching my lips tightly around the base of his dick long after
his
convulsions had ebbed and his breathing began to slow. His cock was still
fully erect when I released it and gazed up into his angelic face.

His brown eyes opened to tiny slits, then slowly came open as a weak but
happy
smile bloomed on his face. His chest rose and fell heavily, his little
nipples red from my manhandling, yet still pointedly erect. I smiled back at

him and raised one eyebrow wickedly, like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining",
and
we both began to laugh softly. I dipped my head and softly, gently licked
his
hairless balls, figuring his sensitive cock could use a brief recovery
period.
He made no move to stop me.

"That," said Joey, "was the best blow job I ever had. I can't wait to tell
Uncle Jerry how you did it."

I had taken his scrotum into my mouth by this time, gently rolling the tender

eggs around inside the silken sack, so I didn't feel I had to keep up my end
of
the conversation. His clean little-boy smell was strongest there, with my
nose
buried between his lovely inner thigh and his perineum. I breathed deeply
and
made another yummy sound.
 
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