"Aw, com'on D," Jamir squirmed, his face screwed into an irked grimace. "Why you gots to play with my tits?" His hands raised above his head like a cornered criminal he sucked air through his teeth, shaking his head. "Com'on, D, just do it, a'ight?"I couldn't help it, though. His developing nipples, erotically swollen on his semi-flat chest, they were a tempting delight. Just rounding the corner of sexual awakening, his slim body was a confusion of boyish immaturity and threatening manhood. My fingers fondling his sensitive buds, I drooled, captivated. Jamir was so sexy.Acquiescing to his impatient demands, I opened his sagging pants. His anxious boy tool springing to life it danced before his newly fleeced groin. The downy soft covering of hair about the root of his dick alluring, I ran my fingers through it. Irked again Jamir sucked air through his teeth, irritated as I plucked his pubic hairs through my fingers. I couldn't help it, his was such a beautiful body."Dang man, com'on," He persisted, backing away. "None of that faggot shit this time."Looking up at him, I wondered what demons he'd battled, risking a return to my apartment? Granting him what he'd wanted all along, I grabbed his now fully erect wand, guiding it into my mouth. Hissing softly, he trembled, his eyes closing. Like an ill-gotten drug, mainlined by the dope addict, he'd finally got his fix...
He was just sitting on my porch that day. "Hey," He muttered, thumbing his head up as I stepped out. Startled I looked around wondering what was the deal. Was this a setup? Jamir stood, nervously facing me as I exited.
"You got a air pump?" He inquired, his face anxious. I noticed his bike behind him, lain on its side. The front tire flat it was useless, like a forgotten child's toy.I'd seen him around the neighborhood, sometimes kicking it with Troy and his gang of wannabees, sometimes on his bike. Distant, he never spoke, save that one time he almost ran me over.I was on the way to the corner mailbox when, barreling from out of nowhere he charged around the corner, pedaling dead at me. Narrowly avoiding a collision I stepped aside as he whizzed by.
"Hey...sorry," he muttered circling back. Truly moved I tried not to overreact, tossing him an 'it's cool' nod. He circled again, eyeing me suspiciously then sped off.
Leaving him at the door I retrieved the pump. How he knew I had it I wasn't sure. Maybe he'd noticed me loaning it to the little boy upstairs to pump up his blow-up toy. Maybe Troy'd told him.He fixed it on his front tire his gangly arms flexing as he pushed the pump handle all the while watching me. Handing it back he stood his bike up, standing uneasily beside it. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other he glanced over his shoulder then back at me. An awkward moment passing it felt like he wanted to ask me something.
"Thanks," he muttered, hopping on his bike and jetting away.
I'm self employed, working from home on mostly web management and some small time web design for various businesses. Which affords me time to do the very thing I shouldn't... boy watching. What makes me weak in the knees for teens I have little clues but, I'm a hopeless addict. With the first signal of the local tribe of boys gathering outside I'm captivated, making several trips from my office through the front room to observe. Troy and his little cohorts were distraction enough often ripping off t-shirts to play a little b-ball in the warm afternoon sun. Muscles flexing they'd cavort and play beneath the makeshift basket in Troy's driveway, just opposite my kitchen and dining room windows.But the day Jamir showed up the stakes were raised to an almost fevered pitch. Mixing it up with the youths he was almost immediately accepted, his street savvy and quick wit ingratiating. Playing infrequently he often sat games out to heckle his friends but on those occasions he deigned to remove his shirt and participate I was wasted, all work stalled, my concentration broken.
After that first encounter I didn't hear from him for some time then, exiting my apartment one day I practically stepped on him. Sitting on the cement slab in front of my door he jumped up when he saw me."Sup?" He muttered, looking anxiously around. I nodded, observing his bike, lain on its side, the front tire flat again.
"Hey, can I use that' pump?" I studied him a few, intrigued. Shifting from one foot to the other he looked nervously around."Wanna come inside?" He looked over his shoulder one last time then practically ran into my apartment. Looking anxiously at the door when I entered I gathered he'd prefer it closed."Your bike?" His eyes suddenly lighting up he dashed out the door, hurriedly dragging it inside, closing the door behind him. Shoving his hands in his pockets he looked expectantly at me, like maybe we'd done this before. His stare urgent, it dawned on me, this wasn't about the bike."You want something to drink?" I asked.
"Naw, I'm straight," He declined, hands nervously at his side.
God, he was so young and cute. I'd been with boys his age before, so what was my beef? Why did this feel risky? It had to be Jamir. He didn't fit the profile. He just wasn't the amicable, boy-next-door type. His features hardened, his eyes held you like a panther's, piercingly probing and fierce. Were he here under any other circumstance I'd be concerned.Holding me with that expectant gaze he seemed agitated, maybe from lack of time, or fear of discovery but it was insistent, wanting immediate action. The tension thick enough to cut I wondered just how much he was up for. Glancing at his feet I quietly requested, "Take off your shoes." A test, I waited to see what he'd do. He eyed me suspiciously, then, licked his lips and kicked first one tennis off, then the next."And your socks," I added, watching for his response.
Again he eyed me suspiciously. Was this part of the routine? If he didn't take them off, would he miss something? With a frustrated huff he lifted one foot, snatching his athletic sock off, then the next, planting his long, delicate feet on the soft carpet.My eyes helplessly moving over his form, I started to believe this was happening. Jamir... Jamir Meters, was in my living room, those intensive eyes on my person, expectantly awaiting my next move. What had he heard? What'd excited him so he risked petitioning the strange man in number 3?I sat on my sofa, somewhat numb, remembering all the times I'd seen him about the neighborhood. The suspicious looks, the sidelong glances. My fantasies, the many times I'd gazed at him through the blinds, my stiffness straining against my briefs."Betta' watch him, that nigga gay," I'd overheard Troy proclaim one day. Behind my blinds I observed the way he stared at my apartment, chills running up my spine.
"Com'ere," I whispered, motioning the boy. He sauntered over, looking down at me, a slight bulge in his pants. I gazed up at him, the boy beneath the rough exterior returning my stare. 'Gon', do it,' his eyes seem to be saying. I reached up and unfastened his pants, peeling them open like some forbidden fruit. His dick surged, rising beneath his boxers until it tented them. I slipped them down his slender hips, admiring his smooth, hairless skin, his taut, sinewy muscles.His dick snapping free from his boxers, it pointed straight up from his downy fleeced groin. I looked up at him again and he looked nervously away. Strumming his growth it throbbed, the head swelling. Leaning forward, heartbeats thundered in my ears. Almost instinctively, he raised his shirt, holding it away from his groin like it might ignite from the heat.
A soft hiss was all he allowed, the moment he sensed his dick in my mouth. His toes wiggling on the carpet, a slight shudder seized him as he pushed his dick forward. Another sharp hiss escaping him, he held his shirttail higher. His toes digging into the carpet, his dick swelled in my mouth, urgent dollops of piquant cum darting from the slit in its swollen head. His chest rose and fell, tiny whimpers escaping him as he squirted, filling my mouth with his sweet nectar, then, it was over.
Later that week I saw him with Troy and the other boys. As I walked by they talked in hushed tones, eyes darting my way. Jamir conspired with them, mockingly regarding me as I passed.
I've lived here several years, the neighborhood deteriorating around me with time. When first I moved here, it was rather nice, but the growing numbers of wannabe gangstas and small time pushers have changed that. I keep my eyes peeled for trouble whenever I venture out but for the most part, the most I have to deal with is Troy and his little boy wannabees.
Keeping mostly to myself I rested in the confidence they knew little to nothing of my orientation. In time, however, I gathered they'd pieced together the clues, the climate growing cool. It started with the curious glances and quiet acknowledgements among themselves whenever I'd happen by. I suppose the company of questionable males I keep didn't help. On more than one occasion I noticed them suspiciously eyeing one of my visitors, Patrick in particular. Lord, I've tried warning the boy that bright colors and subtle sashaying was a dead giveaway but what can you do?That day I heard Troy warning Jamir about me, I was mortified. Could this lead to trouble? But Jamir's sleek form and confident manner was alluring beyond my fears and more than once he'd caught me observing him as I entered my building. Those piercing eyes holding me he never once gave indication he was in any way interested.
The next time I saw him was on a suspiciously quiet day about the neighborhood. Troy and his minions absent, he was circling his bike outside the car port. As I passed he cut his eyes at me, never acknowledging any connection between us. When I approached my car he suddenly whizzed by. Circling in the empty stall next to mine he glanced at me, still feigning disinterest.
"Not kickin' it with the guys?" I asked, opening my car door.He popped a wheelie, circling again but said nothing. As I moved to get in the car he muttered, "They gone." Stopping, he rested on his outstretched leg, gazing at me.
"To the pool." He shifted his weight to his other leg. "To play some grab-ass with the girls," He added, almost as an afterthought.
"And you didn't go?" He glared at me, snapping,"Don't get it twisted. Ain't 'cause I ain't likin' girls.""O..K," I said, surprised at his outburst. He shook his head derisively, then continued.
"Troy actin' stupid." I waited, unsure what to say. "...nigga packin'."Thinking him some kind of humanitarian, I was impressed. "Ain't about homeys carrying guns, huh?" He huffed a scornful laugh, rolling his eyes."Damn, where you been? Carry a gun, go to jail, duh?" He shook his head again.
"Oh," I muttered.
"Ain't 'bout goin' to no jail," He clarified.He observed me a few then pedaled up the driveway. I watched, captivated, those familiar longings resurfacing. Fearing anything other than my memories could prove dangerous, I looked at him one more time, then got in my car.
Suddenly he was in the garage again, circling that empty space. His taut ass raised high, it swiveled as he pumped the pedals. As he circled he caught me looking. He stared at me, pedaling towards the car, then swerved off, riding back out the garage. I watched him in my rear view mirror. He rode down the driveway, into the street this time, circling a few times on the pavement. The whole time he kept glancing at the garage. I watched him a while longer, then, tiring of his games, I started my car.
"You got some films?" He asked, suddenly at my window. Surprised, I slowly answered yes, but that they were gay. He shook his head then looked down, spitting on the ground.
"I think I have a straight magazine," I added. He looked suspiciously around, apparently concerned with detection.
"Wait till I'm inside then just come to the door when it's clear," I instructed, turning my car off. He stared at me a few then zipped off.My heart racing I rifled through stacks of magazines, wildly searching for that one straight mag I'd bought, some time ago. So much time had passed, I became concerned he'd lost interest. Stopping to frequently peek at the front door I'd returned to the stash in my room when a light tap sounded at my door. Dropping the handful of magazines, I dashed to the door.Jamir stood outside, nervously glancing about until I opened the door. "Dang nigga, took you so long?" He assailed, darting inside. "Close the door," He insisted, looking nervously through the security screen. I complied, closing the door, then turned to face him.
"I... I didn't find it yet," I submitted, looking toward my room. Following my gaze, he took a few tentative steps in that direction."They in there?" He said, peering around the door.
"Uh... yeah," I said, stepping into my room. He stood in the door, hands shoved in his pockets."Like... what they be doin'?" He finally asked, stepping precariously into my room."Why don't you kick it here, and I'll put one on," I said, motioning at my bed. He stared at it like it was some foreign object from the planet Zeton, then looked up at me. As I moved to the DVD player he darted his eyes at me, anxiously observing my actions. No sudden moves I reminded myself, slowly finishing the last two steps toward the player.Turning it on I additionally turned on the TV. A film was already in the player, one of my favorite scenes already in progress. I looked back and noticed that he'd half sat, half laid on my bed. His feet on the floor he was resting uneasily on his elbows. His eyes glued to the set he watched in wonder as an older man eagerly sucked a young looking guy's huge dick.Fearing any motion from me might distract him I stood by the bed, glancing frequently at him. The younger guy rather thuggish looking he was making quiet moans of satisfaction as the older guy worked him. Jamir stared at the TV, a bulge slowly growing in his pants. Licking and lapping at the younger guy's balls the man lifted his legs, languorously licking downward until he dragged his tongue across the boy's upturned asshole."Ugggh!" Jamir ejected, sitting up. "That's nasty!"I watched him, wondering if he'd lose interest but he stayed, staring raptly at the TV. The man was in a full munch fest now, his face shoved between the moaning boy's cheeks. Jamir stared, that bulge in his pants unavoidable now then he glanced up at me."That what you be doin'?" As I searched for an answer, he added, "What these niggas doin' nasty shit like that?""It's like eatin' pussy," I tried explaining, glancing at the TV.Frustrated, he sucked air through his teeth. "Naw, I mean... how niggas like them doin' shit like that?""'Cause they not gay actin'?""Yeah. Where you get this shit?" He looked up at me.
"Porn store in the village," I submitted. He shook his head in disbelief.
A loud groan echoed from the TV, pulling us back to the action. Shuddering and writhing the younger guy groaned as the older guy slipped a finger up his asshole. Jamir stared at the TV, reclining on his right elbow, his left hand idly cupping his growth. Risking it all, I squatted and pulled his shoe off. He stirred, a little startled by my touch but said nothing, wiggling his toes when I removed his sock. I repeated the sequence on his other foot, glancing up at his groin when I'd finished.He stared at the TV, his legs parted, idly nibbling on his fingernails. Running my hands up his thighs I groped his growth. He flinched, looking momentarily at me, then back at the TV. I opened his pants, then lowered his boxers below his balls. His dick stood proudly, seven inches of hardness jutting from his groin. Watching me intently, he let out a small hiss when I slipped my mouth around it.
Holding it upright, I slid my mouth up and down his length. He quivered, his eyes darting anxiously from me to the TV. His hips gyrating, small groans escaped him as his dick speared upwards, brick hard. Behind me I heard the boy on the TV groaning seductively. Aware that the fuck scene was now playing out before his eyes, I pulled Jamir's pants and boxers down. He offered no protest, his dick dangerously close, until I motioned to remove them. Snatching at his disappearing clothes he made a half hearted attempt to pull them back up. I licked at the head of his dick and he soon forgot about it, pushing his hips up instead.Still worrying the head of his bobbling boy wonder I lowered his pants and boxers off his feet, tossing them aside. He spread his legs, his smooth thigh muscles flexing. I held his dick upright once more, this time lapping at the sensitive underside. He wiggled and sighed, spreading his legs wider. Then I lapped downward, licking about his almost hairless balls.
He hissed loudly, laying back, his legs parting still more. Turning my head about his tight orbs I painted them with saliva. He writhed and hissed, his legs well gapped now then froze when he felt me licking further southward. I licked heartily about his perineum, evoking twitches and moans, then lifted his legs, my heart in my throat as I licked still further downward.
Quivering wildly he let out a surprised yelp when my tongue dabbled at his tight dimple. He offered the standard protest, commenting that that was "nasty", his hands pushing me away but his ass couldn't resist the incredible sensations. When I returned to his balls he relaxed, offering no further protest when I lapped downward, between his warm cheeks again.My face shoved between his luscious cheeks, I stroked his leaking seven inches, mirroring the scene he'd seen earlier. Trembling and grunting his dick writhed in my fingers, drawing him swiftly closer to his release."Umm!" He moaned, toes curling, then I felt his dick spasm, great plumes of hot cum suddenly airborne, raining down onto his quivering stomach. My tongue probing his tight hole he allowed one loud exhalation, another spurting jet of cum leaping from his dick. Quivering and spurting until he'd emptied he stayed just long enough for me to retrieve a towel and clean him up, immediately jumping up to snatch his clothes on. Pushing his feet into his tennis he glanced at the TV, then glared at me, hurrying towards the door. Readjusting his softening dick in his pants, he was all scowls as he left.
I saw him around the neighborhood following that incident but he was extremely distant scowling extra hard at me if he was with his friends. How these boys do it I can't imagine but had I been introduced to the things they'd done with me at their age, there's no way I could've feigned disinterest.Bumping into him at the corner store one day I thought he'd at least acknowledge me but he did no such thing. Head down he passed, wandering to the opposite side of the store. He's got his honor, I reasoned, making my purchases.Time passed, Jamir kicking it with his friends, dropping hoops with them in Troy's driveway and I made efforts to move on. My heart aching I noticed he'd acquired a new habit. Riding the neighborhood on his bike or kicking it with the fellas, I observed him going shirtless. Often sporting a doo-rag, his only other attire was his drooping pants and tennis. Drooling at him from my window I lusted for his sleek, smooth chest, a pair of swollen boy knobs dotting each pec.Then, like before, he just showed up. His voice calling my name through the security door I was startled by the strange sound. Peering around the door to my office I gazed at him through the mesh. Straining through the screen he searched for shapes between anxious glances over his shoulder.
I opened the door and he scurried inside, his smooth skin brushing erotically against my arm. "Took you so long?" He accosted, nervously regarding the open door. "Hey, can you close that," He insisted.
Shirtless, he stood uneasily in my living room, that expectant look on his face again. Captivated, I approached him, my fingers timidly reaching for his exposed nipples. When I fondled them, he squirmed, his face screwing into an irked grimace.
"Aw, com'on D, why you gots to play with my tits?" His hands raised above his head like a cornered criminal, he sucked air through his teeth, shaking his head. "Com'on, D, just do it, a'ight?"
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