Creampie
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Not only did I have a headache and no patience for figuring out how to put together this bedframe I was working on, but I also could kick myself for maybe getting drunk the previous night in the Phoenix gay bar—drunk enough to have let more slip than I intended to and letting it slip too close to home. I’d—and others—had gone to such extremes to cover it all up and, because I couldn’t hold my liquor, I might have blown it.
I went back into the back master bedroom of the 55-plus community house I’d bought on West Pleasant Valley Road in Sun City, Arizona, and looked down at the steel frame pieces and lugs that were scattered around on the floor. I wasn’t old enough to be there by a couple of years, but the new identification and documentation I had—that the board at the Boston boy’s prep school I’d been headmaster at had arranged for me to get in New York—made me legal here. Pretending I was older than I really was is meant to help me relocate and hide. The private school board was all too eager not to have its headmaster messing around with fourteen-year-old boys spilling over into the public news. That the boys were good with it and had wanted it to just continue only added to the scandal potential. The schools board had been very helpful.
I wasn’t that helpful last night when, already half looped from loneliness and the bleak prospect of how my new life hiding out in an old-folks community in Arizona, my next-door neighbor on West Pleasant Valley Road in Sun City, Stan Simpson, saddled up to me in a Phoenix gay bar and formally introduced himself—and wanted to stand me a drink. Fool that I was, I took him up on the drink and then, I think—well, I’m pretty sure—that I unloaded more of my circumstance on him than I intended to reveal to anyone ever again. Maybe it was meeting him in a gay bar—one pretty far away from Sun City, I might add in defense of my activity in hiding—but more likely it was because of the similarity in our vocations and because of the very, very cute fourteen-year-old boy who I’d noticed was living with Stan. We weren’t supposed to be having cute fourteen-year-old boys living with us in Sun City.
Travis McGee. That was the boy’s name, I was informed.
“So, you were a school principal?” he asked. That was close enough, and I couldn’t remember how I’d revealed that to him. “I do something similar. I’m the manager of a residential juvenile detention home.”
After a few more drinks: “Oh, you mean Travis. No, he’s not my son—or my ward or anything and he’s just here temporarily, so, no, I don’t have to report someone living with me who isn’t a senior. At least I don’t have to if no one reports me. The neighbors are good about that. Pete, who lived in your house before, was good about that. I hope you will be too. He’s just here for a week or two. We have a program of measured reintroduction into the public for boys, based on good behavior.”
“And this boy living with you now, this Travis? He’s been good?”
“He’s good to me—if you know what I mean.” Stan laughed.
Yeah, I’d gotten an inkling of that. Stan had a small pool in his backyard that I could see—I could see it from the floor to ceiling windows I had in this bedroom, windows that would flank the sides of this bed when I got the frame together and dragged the box springs and mattress from over there to over here. I had seen Stan and Travis in the pool. I’d only been here three days, but I’d seen them using the pool. They’d been quite playful and chummy in the pool. You can’t see what’s going on under the water, but you can use your imagination.
And speaking of that, I could see them out there now. Stan was sitting under an awning on the back patio of his house and Travis was in the pool. I wasn’t getting anywhere with the bedframe, so I went to the window—not right up to it because I didn’t want them to see me, but back aways, where I could watch them. I was just wearing athletic shorts—not even any underwear. When I got comfortable here, I wouldn’t be wearing that much in the house. I liked to feel sexy and I still had the body for it.
I let one of my hands rub across my chest and the other one rest on my belly at the waistband of the shorts. I still had a flat belly, with a six pack, I was proud to be able to say. In fact, I was hardbodied still and in tip-top shape. The boys certainly didn’t complain. Of course, what they liked best was swinging between my legs. But I’d never had a complaint from them about that either. It had been more than a month than I’d had any sex beyond using my own hands, and I was horny as hell. That Travis was a real sweet piece.
I almost fell against the window and my hand dipped under my waistband and found an engorging cock when I saw Travis coming up out of the water of the pool. He was naked. His small, slender body, just starting to muscle out, was gorgeous. His cock and balls were still those of a boy except that he was in erection and was cupping them with one hand. Fulfilling a particular fetish of mine, he had glorious tan lines. Most of his body was berry brown tanned. There was a distinctive contrast at his pelvis, though, where wearing a Speedo had left a triangle of whiteness at the most arousing points—highlighting the cock and balls in front and the pert orbs of his buttocks behind.
He was looking at Stan, who was sitting in a plastic patio chair, looking back at the boy. As Travis came out of the pool and slowly walked to Stan, water beaded on his beautiful boy’s body and running down onto his thighs from his torso in rivulets, Stan raised his hips and pulled his swimsuit off. He then was as naked as the boy was. He too was in erection and was cupping his balls and the root of his cock with a hand.
When Travis reached Stan, he grabbed a towel, spread it at Stan’s feet, went down on his knees between the man’s spread thighs, and took the man’s cock in his mouth, starting to make love to it. It looked like he was a pro at sucking a man off. Stan certainly wasn’t complaining.
I nearly lost my shit. I did lose my shorts, handed my cock, and came closer to the window. As I did, though, I noticed that another neighbor, a guy named Larry, who was in his sixties, tall but meaty, and bald, was walking his dog down the street.
Now they are in for it, I thought. He’ll see them at it and both Travis and Stan will get kicked out of the community. Anything like this must definitely be way out of bounds. That was why I was here—hiding in what should be a safe place from anything I’d been caught doing before.
But, holy shit, this boy was sex on a stick. And Stan was just leaning back in his chair and guiding the youth in the blow job with fingers sunk in the boy’s blond curls.
And there was Larry, having heard something and coming around to the side of my house to see what was what. What was what was that Stan was being sucked off by a beautiful fourteen-year-old boy. Larry would go bananas when he discovered what was going on behind Stan’s house.
Larry did go bananas in a way. He pulled behind some bushes where he couldn’t be seen from the street. But I could see him from my window. And he reacted the same way I was reacting. He was watching them. And his shorts were unzipped and his dong was out and he was stroking himself off. Clearly Larry was a good neighbor for Stan. No way he was going to report Stan if Stan gave him entertainment value like this.
Travis pulled away from the cock he was sucking and rose up from his knees. He did so, only, to move on to a fuck. As the boy stood before him, Stan reached around the boy’s hips, cupped and spread the boy’s butt cheeks, and pulled Travis into him, rubbing his cheek on the boy’s belly and then taking the boy’s cock in his mouth. As he sucked Travis’s cock, his fingers worried the boy’s hole, eventually working the fingers in and spreading the hole, stretching the boy to take the cock. Travis leaned back within Stan’s grasp, letting his arms dangle at his side in a sacrificial position. He was going to give Stan anything the man wanted.
I was humming as I watched them and stroking myself off. I had a ringside seat for this boy taking.
Stan took his time, and in time he coaxed Travis up onto his lap, the boy moving there voluntarily, and positioned Travis’s hole on the bulb of his erection. Travis dug his knees into the wide arms of the plastic chair, descended on the man’s cock, encircled Stan’s neck in his arms, brought his lips down to Stan’s, and they fucked. Up, down; up, down Travis fucked himself on the man’s cock, while Stan spread and squeezed the sexy white orbs to the rhythm of the fuck, the darker tone of the root of his thick shaft appearing and disappearing into the stretched hole.
My eyes were glued to the boy’s gleaming white buttocks, contrasted with his darkly tanned back and legs. I panted and stroked as I watched Stan kneading, separating, and squeezing those luscious white orbs of the boy, splitting the difference between them with the root of his darker cock, penetrating deep and exposing the great length of it only to be buried to the quick again.
I was close enough to the window then that my jism splattered all over the glass as I shot a load that was long needing to be released. Larry must have seen movement at the window—I’d let myself come to close to it—because he stuffed his dick in his shorts and beat a fast retreat.
Stan and Travis were still fucking. Stan turned Travis on the cock to where the boy was facing away from Stan, his torso folded down on his thighs, his head handing down toward the patio tiles, and his fingers tracing the edges between the tiles. Stan, grasping the boy’s narrow waist between his hands, pulled the youth on and off the cock, with me being able to see the root of the shaft and several inches of it appearing and disappearing in the thrusting. I was past controlling myself now. I leaned into the window, one hand palming the glass, my forehead pressed into the coolness of the window, and my other hand jerking myself off again. I’d gone immediately hard again. I still had it, the ability to recharge fast and to fire off again and again. Stan tensed and jerked, tensed and jerked, and then the two just sort of collapsed. I came again in another splattering against the window. The dick came out of the hole, bringing cum with it. Then it pushed in again to drive the jism home.
Stan had barebacked the boy.
Jerking back into awareness, I pushed myself off from the window and marched off to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. When I came back, they were gone. I told myself they’d been so taken up with the fuck that I’m sure they hadn’t seen me at the window, watching them and jerking off. I was going hard again. I hadn’t had it for so long, and this had been such a sexy surprise. I lay down on my back on the mattress, across the room from the unfinished frame, took myself in hand, and slow-stroked myself off to the imagining of what the two of them—Stan and his boy, Travis—were doing in the house now. Fucking in the bedroom just eight feet beyond the floor-to-ceiling window of my bedroom, where my jism was still dribbling down the glass. Maybe Stan on his back and the boy riding him languidly in a cowboy.
Angelica
- 19.03.2020
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