Date: Thu, 14 Jun 2007 22:34:30 -0700 (PDT) From: Matthew Templar Subject: Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 15 All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Furthermore, every word of this story is fiction. Nothing within this tale happened to anyone I know. Any reference to anyone, anything or any place, real, living or dead is coincidental. If there is someone that has written a law saying that you can't read this story because of age or local laws or other such 'wisdom', then you haven't really gotten this far into Nifty to read this anyway, right! Write to me with the date of your legal birthday and I will...Not! I will answer all appropriate emails, but, thank you in advance for your time to write. I also want to say, if you will write me, I will quit making spineless threats to stop submitting more. Unless you've submitted a story, you can't know how important it is to hear how you like an artist's work. Thanks again. Finally, there is not enough room to express my gratitude to my friend, Dwight Wilson for his dedication to the editing of this work and encouraging me to continue. Read Brad's Idol in Adult/Youth and New Horizons in Authoritarian (it's really anti-authoritarian) to know the experience he brings to my story. You will not be disappointed! Then tell him to write FASTER! I need my fix too! I would also like to thank those who have trusted me with their stories, to edit and make suggestions to. Also, thanks Mike for your time. Your help has made a difference too, my friend. Your comments and suggestions are most welcome. Matthew Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com * * * Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 15 I noticed a huge shadow take a lot of the light away from the room and then, "What the devil is goin' on up here? What has gotten into you two? You've got us half crazy down there wonderin' what you two are up to. You all okay?" Russ had his hands on his hips; then he walked over to us. "Well, I am," said Grant, and I hugged him proudly. "But he's still an asshole." I started laughing out loud and hugging Grant and rolling us around in the gook. Soon he was even laughing again. "My Gawd! Look atcha!" Russ came closer and grabbed us both firmly by the arms until we were standing in front of him. He was more than firm in his looks. I'd never seen him really angry. He had looked concerned when he found me in the hospital, but there were truly blood vessels forming on his forehead this time and his eyes had a very serious look, called anger. It made me feel like a school boy being caught trying to get away with something; something I deserved getting caught for. "I have to admit I listened to you two in here a bit just now." His voice was not loud, but there was no doubt about the control he was using to hold back what he really wanted to express, one way or another. We both, Grant and I, hung our heads a little. "Now, I want you to look at each other. Go on! Do it!" And he shook our arms until we were looking into each other's eyes. Grant looked over at his grampa for just a second, kind of pleading or unsure, until his grampa shook him and repeated, "Each other; not me! I want you to see who you have there. He's yours, you know. You two boys were meant for each other, God damn it!' Now I looked at him. He shook me until I returned my gaze to Grant, who was starting to sniffle again. But so was Russ; I could tell. "You boys have something special. Can't no one take that from ya; never. But you can give it up!" We both looked at him then. His eyes were brimming and he was beginning to break down in front of us. Softer than ever, he continued, "Guys, if I thought for an instant that you two shouldn't be together I'd be the first to tell ya. But you know you should be together too. You've told each other how much you need each other, haven'tcha? Well? How many times now?" We nodded;, our chins against our chests, looking down. "Then how can either of ya possibly think you could end that by a little conversation or letting t'other of ya go away for a minute or two? Ya got to trust each other in everything; everything! And ya got to be honest as possible in all things to each other; ya gotta! And damn it! Don't be scarin' me like that again! I'm old!" Exactly in front of me, into his chest I heard, very softly, "I'll say." Then the slightest, weakest giggle. It took everything I had not to break up at that. In one sweep, Russ let go of me and whipped Grant around in front of him by both arms and shook him twice. Then he grabbed him to him and hugged him, Grant's most unfavorite hug, but Russ got his attention again. "Ga-awd damn you two," he said, grabbing me up too, "I love ya to death," which, from his strength...was surely...going to... happen...soon! "Help," whispered Grant, dying in the clutches. This boy was never going to be allowed to grow up straight if this kept up. Russ let go. He held us out by our arms again. His eyes, hell, all of our eyes were beet red above tear stained cheeks. "I love you guys. That will never change. Grant, David is wonderful and I cherish what he has done to bring me the happiness I've sot for so long. But! He's yours! Do you know that? I don't have what he wants. You are who he wants, totally. Okay?" Grant nodded. "Say it!" "I'm who he wants totally," Grant said quietly, eyes down. "'Kay! Go clean up 'fore I paddle both yer bare behinds." "Humpf! Never happen," said Grant, starting to walk past his grampa. "WHAT?" came the bellow as Russ looked up at me. Hey, I loved the little guy more than most but I found myself pointing to him with both hands and looking in fear at Russ. He turned and grabbed up Grant with one arm and carried him over to a short stool. He sat down hard and draped a shocked boy over his lap, bare buns up, who was turning around to see a humongous paw of a hand raise up, about to do permanent damage to my two favorite little mounds. And down it came! Until, of course, it was within a quarter of an inch of its target. Instead, that paw rubbed that naked, sawdust covered rump until there was one laughing, pleading, kicking, screaming, dying grandson crying that he had to go or he would anoint his grampa's legs. Just then another ominous shadow darkened the room. We all looked up but could only see the shadow. I think I may have gasped. "Well, come on in. The war's over and the coast is clear, I reckon," Russ said, letting Grant stand up. We were all catching our breath from our laughing as Sam came around into the doorway, then Dustin, and Petey and, of course Clayton, whose finger was being dragged in by Petey. If they weren't a sight. There was a crowd of four people, only one of which had even a smattering of clothes on. Ha! Boxers! I wasn't even thinking about what they must have thought when they saw our threesome. "Tarnation! I don't recall scheduling a convention. Can't a guy whup his grandson and ex-lover in privacy anymore? Humpf!" He stood up and started to shuffle to the door; not the kind of shuffle that ends up in a soft shoe, but the kind that said he was wiped out. I knew the feeling. I was wasted too. But I was more worried about the toll that took on him. I was also worried about someone else. I looked away from Russ and took a step toward Grant and put my hand on his shoulder and raised his chin so I could see his eyes. "I'm sorry, Grant. Really, truly, I am." He nodded. "I know." He started to walk to the door. That's it? So I asked. "That's it?" I had to know. He stopped and turned, put his arm around my dusty waist and kissed me on the cheek. He smiled half-heartedly and continued his walk, wiping sawdust from his lips. "What is this place, Grampa Russ?" Dustin asked. Everyone turned to either look at Russ for his answer or to take in the room and all its possessions. But Russ looked tired. "Maybe another time Dustin, maybe...," he said, continuing toward the door. "I'd like to know, grampa." Everyone turned to see that Grant had stopped to turn into the room, having really just taken the time to notice it himself. "Okay." Russ sighed, deep and weary. "This is my shop and studio. Clayton, turn on that light please." As Clayton turned on the light the brightness that showed off the room seemed to ignite Russ into the proud proprietor of this fascinating space. Not only were there tools for wood projects and tools for art projects, but there were wood and art projects scattered around; some completed and some, well on their way. Like I said, art was a love of mine that I had squashed, given up on, but not so much that I didn't recognize something that startled me with an amazing sense of respect. By the looks of the projects in this room, it was plain to see that all of the art and sculpture in the house were the works of the same man; Russell DeWitt. It made me really, really want to know when he sculpted that damn squirrel! But that could wait. I was brimming with pride just to know him, to be in the midst of these amazing pieces. "Hah! These are fantastic! You're a genius. How long have..., where'd you find time to..., I can't believe...!" "...You could finish one question?" That was my Grant again, looking at me like my head was up my, well, like I'd lost my head anyway. There were some 'wow's and 'awe's and then, "You...you did all this?" It was Sam. "You made all these?" he continued as he walked over and touched a group of canvasses resting against a table. He looked with a kind of wonder at his dad, his 'Pop', and walked to a roughed out log, already partially shaped into a head of, who knew except Russ. "You did this." It was a statement, but it was more. It was a light going off over his head. His eyes lit up in some kind of realization. He had the same look as when he showed us his sketches what seemed like eons ago at the table. He looked at his dad, then right at me and looked even deeper into my whole face, it seemed. He was almost eerie. "I gotta go!" He started running for the door. "Dad?" Grant called as his dad turned to go down the steps. ""I'll be right back," he called. "Gotta get something from our house. Dad! Your keys?" Russ walked quickly to the top of the steps and yelled, "Keys? You be careful! They're on a hook in the kitchen. And, don't forget your pants, you crazy...." He seemed to realize that the likelihood of Sam hearing him diminished after he'd whipped around the corner below. "I have no idea what that was about," Russ said as he walked back in and laid a gaze on me like I should know. Grant too, came and looked up at me like I was hiding something. I took a step back and fell over another half carved log that looked like.... I didn't get hurt but I needed help getting it off of me. Clayton quickly rescued me and helped me up. But my attention was on the sculpture. I didn't even look up from it to ask, "Can I buy this when it's done, Russ?" I noticed Grant in my side vision and looked to see him squinting at me again. I just looked back at the unfinished work that jumped into my lap seconds before. The longish hair, still just a mass, but the lips, the eyes. I had to have it. "Pish! Of course you can't buy it boy! It ain't for sale, never!" he said it with a chuckle like I was out of my mind for even suggesting such a thing. I had to agree with him. I looked up at Grant. At least I had the real thing. So, of course, once again, but just for a second, Grant got squished from my hug. "Jeepers!" he whispered. "Isn't anyone going to save me?" I let loose. He slapped me on the shoulder and walked away, saying, "Weirdo!" The others really wanted to laugh at us but at least three didn't know what had just happened. It was Dustin that finally said, "I don't get it, Grampa Russ," he said, walking over and taking Russ' hand. Russ had still been looking toward his son's jet stream out of the studio and was startled as he felt a little hand in his. "Huh? Oh, that. Well, it seems that David thinks that his Grant is on top of that there log lookin' back at him, hm-m-m. But he's wrong." "Huh? But it looks...," I stammered, looking back at him. "Course it does, son. They're family! Think about it. Good God. Youth!" I swung around to look back at my Grant's face coming from the inside of that log. Or was it Sam's face? "Then I want to buy it for Grant!" Of course, the others still had no idea until they got up close to the log. Then I heard some 'oh's and a 'huh?' Petey. "It's my dad, Petey. Grampa is carvin' dad when he was my age, I guess?" he asked, looking to his grampa for the answer. "Bingo!" Slowly but surely, we all migrated back to the house. I wanted to stay and look but the look that Grant gave me won out. Even so, once we returned to the house he was far from interested in keeping close to me like he had been. Oh, I shouldn't say that, he and the boys found a board game to play and found a soft carpet to lay out on and enjoy some quiet time. Clayton and Russ were talking on one of the smaller couches and I, well, I just wandered. I so much had wanted to get with Grant and just love him, to reassure him that I was totally devoted to him. I went down to my...our room and spread out on the bed, after a quick rinse in the shower to remove the sawdust. I hadn't even realized that the two little guys had whisked Grant down there earlier, to get him clean before their big game on the carpet. I barely remembered them coming back upstairs, soaking wet, laughing and plunking down to get the dice rolling and the game started. I, at least, dried off! Except maybe for the few times that I had truly missed doing things with my dad, I had never cared about someone as much as I did Grant. Oh, I thought Russ and I had a budding relationship springing forth at the beginning of my visit, but with Clayton showing up, I realized how much Russ needed a stronger man in his life then I would be for him. Don't get me wrong. I still idolized him, even before I saw his masterpieces in the shop. I had to smile a little dreamily when I thought about being in there, next to him, working on some of my own drawings or paintings. I needed that kind of dream to allow me to drift off. It was the beginning of my senior year in high school. I had a lot of friends, well, close acquaintances. Kids that were in the groups I had migrated to. Of course, there were girls too. There were always girls. But I remembered being so turned off by their giggling and stupid, cliquey ways that I knew I just wanted a real, true friend. Richard became that friend. It took almost until Christmas break and, by then we spent most days, after school, helping each other with homework. My room was the biggest and quietest. Even if someone was home at my house they never came into my room, ever. So, that's where we would always end up. My thoughts took me back to a day when I'd wanted to show Richard what a great friend he was to me, but I had no way of telling him. I was so uncomfortable with my feelings that I was afraid I'd say something and gush it out like one of those silly-ass girls in our class. We'd been studying and I'd brought in drinks. We both had our shoes off and, when he'd set down his empty glass I attacked him with more fervor than usual. Keep in mind, Richard was bigger than I was. Whenever I attacked him I knew he could have taken me with one arm tied behind his back. In fact, I'd asked him about doing just that once but he blushed and said it wasn't ever going to happen. Anyway, I think I remember landing on his arm with my knee, pinching it between me and the carpet. He got this intense look on his face and had me on my back and pinned in seconds. Luckily, Richard could never be angry for more than about ten seconds and by the time I was helpless under him, he was laughing at my predicament. I tried in vain to get free but his hands were holding my shoulders down and he was sitting on my stomach. "What the...!" he said looking behind him and then into my eyes as though I knew what he was talking about. Well, I did. I was getting hard and I couldn't explain it. Hell, I was barely eighteen and my hormones were on overload, all the time. It could have been anything. The thing is, I don't remember it going like this. It was turning into something that didn't really go that way or that I'd buried so deeply that I.... "What you got on your mind, pervert?" It wasn't mean, just the sport of kids putting each other down. "I've got you on my mind, and you sitting on my thinker down there." Wait! That's not how it went. I'd really squirmed away and he let me up with an almost...disappointed...look. NO! Not Richard! "So, if I move around a little back there, will you mess your pants?" He had a grin on him that was as devilish as he could form. "You don't have to move at all. I'm so hot for you, I'm about to lose it all any minute." I never said any of that, did I? Hell, I couldn't. I never thought about it until...well, thought... No! I couldn't have. "Let me help you then," he said, moving slowly back and forth over my swollen penis, nestled perfectly in the crack of his jean covered ass cheeks. My mind was reeling. I don't know if it was my dream mind or my real mind, but something was happening. That's when I noticed that his jeans had changed sizes quite a bit, too. I looked up to see him staring back at me. Then, I blinked. He was gone and I was looking straight up at the ceiling, still in my room. My dad's head came over to look down at me. This part seemed so familiar but I don't remember it happening, unless I filed it away in a bottom drawer and locked it there. His hand went out to me to help me up. "Are you okay, junior?" I don't remember him ever, ever using that tone with me; ever. "The way Richard left, it seemed like he was upset or embarrassed or...well, you tell me." He never sounded that caring, did he? He didn't care. He never cared, even when he told me not to trust a friend like...he did say Richard, not.... Of course he did. But I was embarrassed. My dad wanted intimate details and I didn't know what had just happened. So I did what any teen boy would do at a time like this. "Leave me alone! I don't know why he ran off and I don't care. Just get out of my room! I don't want to talk about it!" He kind of stepped back and stared at me and then his eyes softened, it had to be this dream because they never did that, did they? "I know that sometimes you think you know what you want and sometimes it doesn't go that way. I just want you to know that I love y..." "Get out! I said get out!" I was screaming with my head down and literally pushing him out of my room. I slammed the door and fell on my bed, exhausted and humiliated that my dad thought that he could ever relate to what I'd...just...gone...through. Someplace in there, the dream, it was a dream, right? The dream had changed to me, in my room at Russ's, thinking about what was really dream and what was really the truth finally released after three years of blaming him for...what? Thankfully, my mind, on overload, just blanked out and I guess I slept. I couldn't have slept for longer than a minute when I felt warm on my side. Without questioning the change in temperature I just rolled over to the other side. After all, the room was warm enough. Then I felt the warmth all along my back but, ah-h, this time it was accompanied by some boney knees in my thighs, boney hips in my butt, a boney chin in my shoulder and a skinny arm draped over my chest. M-m-m, I couldn't have asked for a better blanket. I was sure it was the 'Grant' model of the three designer models we had there in the house. I brought my arm up to brush down the length of the arm over me and was rewarded with a cooing, my favorite cooing. "I thought you were playing a game." "I am. Hm-m-m," he answered in his softest, high pitched, little boy voice. He began to stroke my chest with his hand. Back; back and forth from one nipple to the other, but not knowing why; not knowing it was driving me wild. "I mean with the boys." "Oh, that was an hour ago. I came lookin' for you." His hand stopped over one nipple and I might have gasped when I thought he might not continue. "Heh, heh!" "What? What're you giggling about?" I asked as I felt him rise up and almost climb onto my side to look over me. "You got a little stiffy up here too. Hey, you got two. How come your little boobies got all hard and pointy up here?" Then he giggled again and lifted his hand away. My eyes were still closed, just enjoying his touch, his closeness, his warmth; realizing for just an instant what I almost lost. "Now what are you laughing at, Tiger?" I asked. He giggled again and I gasped as his hand landed around my penis. "Oh-h-h, yes!" "They almost look like this big guy but little bitsy, huh?" He was putting enough pressure on me with his climbing that I finally turned onto my back and brought my arm under and around him. I began to lightly rub his back and opened my eyes to watch him begin to explore me closely. He sat back on his knees and spent a minute or two playing with my hardened nipples. He would rub them gently, then take them in his fingers to feel them. His gestures had nothing to do with making me feel good. They had everything to do with discovery. I might have been a life-sized doll in a science lab except for the times I moaned from his touch. "Can you feel me do this: touching you here?" he asked, playing with my sensitive tips. "Oh, yeah. It feels alright. In fact, it feels great," I said, trying to be objective and informative, like any good teacher would do if he were in the same position with his student. Ha! "Ya got bumps on your tummy. I've seen guys that like to show off their tummies to girls. None of 'em had this many bumps," he said, as he rubbed into the furrows between my abs; more rubbing and less talking, please. His gentle touch was driving me crazy but, I hoped he was unaware of what he was doing to me. That is until.... "Woe! What was that? Your cock jumped! Wow!" "My cock?" "Yeah! It's another word for your thingy. Dustin told me. Right?" "Well, yeah. I just didn't know you knew it, is all." I was beginning to get these strange visions of me teaching Grant about a boy's body, but Dustin being the principal of our school. The thought was scary enough until I also realized that Dustin probably knew at least as much about some of these pleasures as I did. That was even scarier. "So?" he said, breaking the images invading my senses. "So? Oh. My 'cock' jumped because what you were doing felt good. It was showing you that I liked your touches." "Oh. You liked it so much you peed your pants?" "I don't think so. Why?" I tried to get up on my elbows but he had turned around and slid so that he was laying against me, with one shoulder blocking my view of everything below my chest. "It doesn't look like that thick gunk from before. It's clear." His head was just inches away as he watched me leaking pre-cum. I could get quite fluid in the course of lovemaking, or sex as it was back then, especially when compared to what Grant did to me. This was loving. "It's called pre-cum, Grant. I guess it's used to help me slip into a girl easier, or make a hand slide on me better." He turned and looked at me with his nose scrunched up. "Ew-w-w! Stick your thing...cock in a girl? Stick it where? Why would you do that?" As he said this I think he was really preparing for a lesson. He'd turned toward me and was resting his head on his hand, his sharp elbow on my chest. "Do you know where babies come from, Grant?" I was still rubbing his back, actually his side since he'd turned. Once in awhile I dropped my hand down to cup his little globe of a cheek. He was so smooth; so silky. My other hand was combing his hair back away from his beautiful eyes. "'Course, silly. From moms. That's where I came from," he said, blushing. I had to rethink this. I was beginning to think this wasn't the best time to talk to him about impregnating a female to conceive life, when all he wanted was to play with my pee-pee and boobies! He was just lying there, kind of draped, nonchalantly, over my waist. His skin's radiance was like iridescent pearl, though he was a bit pinker from the sun than yesterday. I moved my hand to his chest and rubbed gently on his dime sized nipple. "M-m-m. That's nice," he said, closing his eyes for a minute. He opened them and smiled. "I know what you liked about that, huh?" I nodded and barely grinned, intent on what I was doing. It struck me that I didn't know all the places that could give pleasure. Sure, I knew a lot of places where I could get pleasure, but that was the old me. I decided to make it my goal to find out and memorize each of my partner's 'feel good' places. And I would sacrifice working if I had to, to spend all day with this guy in my bed, such was my determination! See how much I'd changed? "Sometimes it feels like you're touching all the way through to my thing...my penis...cock! Jeesh! How many names has it got, anyway?" He laid back on me dramatically for just a second. I could feel his back hit my penis and push it down, between us. "Ew! Now I got ya on my back! Ew, ew, ew!" He sat up straight and arched his back to get as far from it as he could. I reached out with both hands under his arm pits and pulled him to me, inches from my face. I shook him once, because he was being so silly, and quietly said, "Hey! Just relax. It's not poison. It's me! Don't you like me?" I looked into his eyes that were looking into mine, finally and lent him one of my grins. "I love you! But you still can't pee on me." He put both of his hands on either side of my head to support himself. "Well, I'd be willing to bet that, not only is that not pee, which, by the way, we discussed, but that it even tastes sweet," I assured him, nodding like I had a clue what I was talking about. Of course, I'd tried my own per-cum, years ago. I had no idea if the taste changes over time or what. He was giggling. "How would you know, you weirdo? Ew! Ew! You didn't taste it before, did ya? Ew, ew, eww-w-wy!" He said, shaking his head back and forth. When he stopped, I waited for another few seconds and raised myself as close to his bright face as I could. "Yup!" His mouth flew open and his eyes were saucers. He pushed himself back and just stared at the crazy guy in front of him. "'Member?" I said in my cockiest voice, "I lick cocks!" Nothing in the world could have been as funny or as gross, evidently, to a ten year old boy on the outskirts of Euphoria. When he stopped laughing, he got that devilish look on his face and quickly rose up onto his haunches. He opened his mouth a little as if he'd just discovered the secret to cold fusion, pushed away from me and turned toward the subject of his 'Ew-ing'. He grabbed me with one hand, reminding me again, as I yelped, that I was connected to it down there, by itself. He pumped up on it with one hand like his tooth paste tube, as he scooped up the liquid end with his other hand. Everything slowed while he brought it close to examine it. Then, as though he remembered his goal, he stuck it in my face and said, "Prove it!" He looked so proud, like he had created the most impossible dare in the world. That devilish grin returned and I had to think quickly. "Wow! What's that?" I said, looking over his shoulder. He didn't even budge. H-m. Well, why not? So I grabbed his hand and stuck as much of it into my mouth as I could, making an insanely big deal out of licking and slurping until my slobber was running down his arm. What started as huge eyes, and that ever-gaping mouth, quickly turned to hard laughter. He was completely captivated by the thought, as he pulled back his hand, that he should be grossed out by my spit that was all over his forearm. "Gross! I'm all...Hey!" he said, shocked that he'd just realized what I'd done. He leaned in as if to see if I would melt or grow warts or something else, having surely been poisoned. "What you did! Yuck! What's it taste like, David? What? Tell me." I kept laughing at him. He was so darned cute and naive. It was so much fun letting him discover the things we were enjoying. I suppose I was looking forward to a time when we could spend more time enjoying the fruits of his sex education, but until then, darn he was cute. So, I was laughing. "Syrup, plain and simple! Sweet as nectar. Though, I'm sure it's no where near as sweet as you are. But then, you could find out for yourself what it tastes like, you know." Shock! Again! He sat up straight! "H-m-m, no way! I'm not that crazy," he told me, shaking his head. "Sure you are, Grant! You're with me! And everything I have is yours," I said, spreading my arms to show him what he was getting. "Humpf! Some deal." He sat back and crossed his arms on his chest. His elbow bumped my flag staff at his side. He looked at it. It was shining a bit from a new drop of the viscous liquid on its tip top. He reached over again and held me, softer this time. He lightly moved his hand up and down a few times, making sure to see what I was doing. My head dropped back and my eyes closed. My mouth had uncontrollably opened, making it easier for the moaning to get out, which would start any second. Then he stopped. I looked up when I felt him stick his finger into the indent which was the beginning of my spigot. Together with his thumb, he pinched the head of my poor post, drawing the result up to his face for a better look. He rubbed it between his fingers. "Too thick for pee." "Just taste it. It won't kill you," I assured him, then fell back limp, like it had got to me, finally. He giggled, but he wasn't moving. Then I could see his little mind thinking really deep. His hand was even closer to his mouth and there was just the tip of something pink between his lips. I thought really hard about grabbing his hand and pushing it into his mouth just to be funny, but I didn't for two reasons: trust and love. I'd just done my best to screw us up and I didn't want either of us to go through that again. I also wanted his love to continue to be real and pure, and if it meant not taking that step, that was okay with me. I had too much going for me to put demands on how he conjured up his feelings for me at his age. I was just so amazed that I had him so far. "Grant, it's okay. You don't have to..." and his finger disappeared. I gasped and his eyes went big. "I can't believe I did that. I...," he admitted as his finger came out of his mouth clean. "H-m-m! Doesn't really taste, huh?" To which I gave him my patented 'told-ya-so' look. "You're not tellin' anyone I ate your pee are ya?" "Grant! It's not pee. It's the juice that makes lovemaking easier, more fun. That's all. I wouldn't make you do something that would hurt you, would I?" The look he returned wasn't convincing. "And I would never tell about what you and I do. That's between you and me alone." .He turned back to the big boy between my legs and we both could see that he was losing his strength from lack of attention I expect. The result of reducing to a shorter length and laying over to rest was that my belly now had a little pool of pre-cum forming from the tip of my wilting manhood. He was looking very closely. He picked up my penis and watched the string of pre-cum until it broke from my belly. Then he laid me down and did it again. I thought he was going to lay his head on my thigh to get closer, but he continued a couple more times with his head cocked that curious way. Now, just his holding me was enough to make the object of his interest rise to attention. It never took much. But his gentle touch was more than enough. Just to see his reaction, I reached down and scooped up some of my pre-cum on a finger and held it above my open mouth. We both watched as a single drop fell and hit my chin, then I plunged the wet finger into my mouth and exaggerated my actions while cleaning it off. I looked back at him and his mouth was open a little and his eyes were a little wider than usual. Then he blinked and came toward me, raising himself up until he was looking down at me. He grinned and leaned in with his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out and lapped up the fluid on my chin. He backed up again and made like he was savoring some exquisite sauce, which was my point all along, I thought, modestly! "Hm-m-m. Not bad. Kinda sweet. Only shows that there is something sweet in there to leak out," he said, as he poked my chest. "Hey! I'm a real sweetie! I put up with you, don't I?" That must have been so funny. Or, more likely, it was the sign of a ten year old who had grown bored with that game and wanted to move on. I'm sure some feelings of love and the unknown had made him need a change of venue, too. He rose up and stood next to the bed. "Get up!" he ordered, reaching for my arm. I grabbed him and started tickling. It only lasted a minute until we both had to go investigate the difference between pre-cum and the pee that was having a hard time staying inside two hysterical guys, flopping around on their bed. 'Their bed.' I liked the sound of that. NTLFG - The End of Chapter Fifteen To be continued Comments on the story are very much appreciated. Thank you for the emails you've written. Each one is an encouragement. I'm Matthew Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com