Date: Tue, 30 May 2006 22:31:51 -0700 From: Kevin Harness <firstname.lastname@example.org> Subject: Until Zory Came Along... Chapt 8 The usual diclaimers apply - if you aren't old enough per your laws / statutes to read this, don't. If you are offended by gay inter-generational relationships or by gay material in general, don't read this story. If, however, you find boylove an interesting subject, please read on. All characters in the story are played by persons 18 years of age or older, and the story is fictional. If it were a real story, I would normally change the names to protect the person or persons involved. ************************ Zory and Natalia moved out of their nice townhouse apartment a few weeks later. Moving is no fun, and as we all know it's usually much more work than you think it's going to be at the onset, despite being good planners, etc. It's not that it takes any more than a weekend to move stuff out and in, it's just that the two or three day weekend feels like about a month and a half of sweating, dust, grunting, carrying boxes, hundreds of trips up and down stairs (even if there aren't any), etc. Even though I had a friend who worked at a truck rental business, it was our good fortune to have him out of town on other business during that very weekend, resulting in Zory and I renting an enclosed moving truck that was the size of a football field. All in all, it went very well. By the time Natalia had initiated the move, Zory and I had visited at his apartment one more time, and (miraculously) one time at my house. Oddly enough, that particular Saturday had been a long day, with Zory and I both doing several weeks of yardwork in one day. Even though it was literally our first day and night 'alone', it didn't end up with wild undertakings on our part. And you know, and not to make a grandstand effort here, it's not all about that. Despite my being inexplicably attracted to boys, and despite the fact that there are indeed those times where you see a beautiful boy who appears just perfect, who in flipping his hair this way or that makes you want to run to the nearest sink and splash cold water on your face... when it comes down to it, it isn't all about boning the boy. Maybe to some, it is, and if so I guess I can understand that. But on that night when Zory and I had worked side by side all day, eaten together - and yes - even showered together, I was so content laying next to him as we fell asleep - hearing him breathe, feeling his heart pulse, and seeing his blonde hair shine from the ambient light as my eyes closed. If, during the few hours of the evening and night before we fell asleep, I had initiated wild sex with Zory, taking him and his taking me - over and over and over - and then showering and making that a porn show all by itself, and then to the bedroom, what would I have taught him? To give yourself up when the first major opportunity arises? That sex is the only way to be with each other? I don't know all the answers, fellow boylovers. All I know is that it felt right holding Zory next to me because that is what he wanted to do and it was right for the moment. Yes, I am sure both of us thought about making each other cum in volumes unabashedly and with no one to stop us, really. Of course that also could be very, very satisfying. I am not dumb, nor without sex drive, or so irresponsive that I have a drop-dead beautiful boy next to me that would do literally anything with me that I asked. It's about the boy. All the other things for me, including thinking the boy is gorgeous, trusting, available, wanting, etc, all of those thousands of things fall in tow with that first fact is that it's all about the boy. And, so it was with Zory when we'd worked all day and sat on my couch together for the first time, holding each others' hands, watching one of my favorite movies ever, Finding Nemo. He looked at me (and I at him) repeatedly across the evening, probably wondering what the protocol was for 'doing something' with each other, yet at the same time we both were having a complete good time just hanging. So we went with it. Many, many things were accomplished, overcome, and acknowledged by both of us for the other, and for us. We worked together. We made lunch together and each had things to do to churn out the sandwiches, chips, and cold drinks. We'd both set up and agreed on goals for the day on the yard before we called it a day, and made it. At several times during the course of the day, we had to shift gears and change roles, or help the other sweep faster because the breeze had come up and was blowing clippings and plant parts and dust everywhere. I had Zory order pizza and soda (I had my cold beer in the 'frig, hehehe) from a pizza parlor magnet on my 'frig (where he had to ask me for and recite my address, yeah!), while I put the lawn tools away. Once showered - and yes we both had hardons that could've been used as steel rivets on a skyscraper - we timed it perfectly on zipping out and chosing a couple movies before the pizzas arrived at my house. For lack of a better way to state it, it was poetry in motion; and it was beautiful and fun and savored and absorbed by both of us. As Zory was falling asleep that night, snuggling back toward me in the classic 'spoons' sleeping pose, he smiled every so cutely, and opened his eyes and turned to me. For just a moment, this beautiful boy thought for another second then wagged his head side to side in obvious awe and disbelief. Believe me, it was like no other moment you can create. "I feel so lucky," he said. I exhaled in sort of a half-laugh, and said, "Me too, Zory... " He smiled back, and I stroked his hair. "... this is pretty nice, and way more than just icing on the cake for me," I nearly whispered. Zory cocked his head a bit, responding, "How so? You said that sex was like icing on the cake." Smiling, I spoke words from my heart, "Babe, you are the cake and icing all the time. Being around you, working side by side with you, eating a silly old sandwich, or watching a movie. All the time. So being next to you close, like in the shower or sleeping, or even just on the couch, is like extra icing on the cake. Having sex with you would be like more of the best icing and cake I've ever seen or tasted or heard about, piled on top." Zory smiled and his head dropped down a bit as he took in the words, the meanings, and the compliments - making it extremely obvious that I thought he was fantastic. He told me that even though he knew he hadn't lived all that many years yet, and so may not have all the things in the world or the universe figured out. Smiling, he said that he did know I was special to him in ways that he was discovering every day, and he loved every minute of it. That, I said with a loving smile and kiss to his hair, was what being a boylover was all about for me - making sure that the boy who wanted to be a loved boy, was, in any and every way possible. Zory laid his head down on the pillow and snuggled in tight to me, sighing preciously as he relaxed and let himself be at peace with where he was. I draped an arm over him lightly which he pulled in to his chest and hugged, and went still, his breathing evening out as he drifted off to sleep. Neither of us had to say it at that point, because with our explanations and words and actions we already had. The last thing I remember is seeing little reflections of light off my Zory's hair, which fluttered as I breathed out each breath. The weekend was remarkable, and of course Natalia and Zory moved to an apartment not too far away from where I lived a couple weeks after that. Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months. My young friend was constantly growing up, changing, learning new facts and skills, and was consistently a source of surprise and enjoyment for me. Now that I think about it, several philosophers have expounded on the idea that one of the few dependable constants in this universe is change itself. Things are always changing. Where it isn't, something is probably wrong. A car engine over the course of years wears out; a younger boy grows and becomes an older boy and then an adult. Zory and I weren't together all that much even though he lived just a few miles away now, and even his staying overnight at my house on Friday or Saturday night (and rarer occasions, both) was occasionally eclipsed by things his mom had planned, play practices, and even mounds of homework. We did, however, manage to sequester ourselves off from the outside world and occasionally have long talks about life, developing new skills, relationships, observations, and opinions on a variety of subjects. It wasn't then and never really has been all about the sex with Zory. This boy was most definitely the cake and the icing too. After the initial newness of our being very fond of each other and caring a lot what happened to each other was established and built upon, Zory became less of an influence on insisting we have sex just because we saw each other. Now, don't get me wrong, sex with Zory was mind-bogglingly sensational on both a very personal and inter-personal levels. It seemed as though we could feel what the other was feeling, experiencing, and even thinking - making it way more than twice the intensity of any previous sexual contact or encounters I'd had. Just before my increasingly beautiful boy was 14 years old (and to this point we'd only ever done mutual oral and mutual masturbation) he began querying me insistently as to why we hadn't had "real sex" yet. My responses were many, the best of which you can probably figure out without my having to go through them here. Zory, on the other hand, was adamant. He wanted to experience it, both ways, and it was becoming fairly clear that he wasn't going to give up on the matter. In all fairness, I didn't give up when I'd decided as a young boy to have sex, either. It was apparent that my boy had his mind set, so I just asked the obvious question. "What is it about us having anal sex that is so important to you?" I asked gently. "Because it would be with you," he stated matter-of-factly, "and I want to do it, just not with anyone else." He stood there, arms crossed. "... and besides," he continued, "why shouldn't we? I know it's a special thing, but geeze... let's get real here. This is me we're talking about, not some other boy who doesn't care or just wants a dick up his butt so he can say he's had real sex. It's me, Zory, remember?" "It is special," I agreed. "Ok, well so are you to me, and so am I according to what you said." I nodded, and smiled. Again, it was obvious to me that Zory had decided to move things to a higher level of intimacy, a higher level of involvement, and had been avoiding perhaps other available options because that isn't how he wanted it done. He wanted it with me. "Ok," I said. Zory froze in time and space, the look on his face priceless. "Ok what?" he responded. "Ok as in yes we can do it, or ok that we both are special to each other?" I moved in and slid my arms around him, feeling his taunt teen muscles against mine. I kissed him on the forehead, took a deep breath of his hair, and looked down at his eyes. "Both, Zory. Both." "Really?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief that he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. "Really." He smiled big, and then put his head against my chest, kissing me there. "Wow," he whispered. Then, "Cool." Another pause. "Thanks." I kissed the top of his head, "No thanks necessary, babe. You know I loves ya." He pulled back a bit and looked up at me, "Yeah. I know that. Back at ya on that one." It was my turn, "Yeah," smiling. We talked about it a bit, and as it turned out we both wanted it to be kind of special, not just the first opportunity that arose. There was no doubt in either of our minds that we needed to be either at my house or somewhere else away from people. We'd already established that we could be a little noisey at times. I also knew that once I'd given the green light on this one that it couldn't be too far in the future, either. Neither of us would sit still for that one, least of all Zory. The best plan was of course to utilize one of his overnight stays at my house, hopefully a two-nighter. The next one was just a little over a week away. Perfect! I had Zory and Natalia over for dinner once between now and that weekend, and they had me over for the same. Every time Natalia went to the bathroom, Zory would give me a giggling smile and tell me how many days were left in the countdown. While he wasn't a sex-crazed teen, he was still a teen and I'm sure if something or someone had come between us and our destination weekend, he probably would have gone nuclear. As luck had it, nothing did. ************************************ Thank you for your kind responses. You may write me at email@example.com. Other stories in this same category include "Love Of My Life", "Hands On My Heart", "A Boy To Remember", "Save The Boy", and others.