The Other Brother
Chapter 01
WARNING: this story contains sexual content, and contact between young boys. If the subject matter offends you, is not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find something else to read. In the following story all names and events are completely fictional. Although I may mention specific locations, places, or persons any resemblance to said people, locations, or places is completely unintentional.
Feel free to email me at ([email protected]). I respond to all of my readers.
This work is copyrighted © by Hunter Woods. No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced in whole or in part in any form including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express written consent of the author. For those of you who just blow this off and decide to steal anyway keep these thoughts below in mind:
“Intentionally using the quotes of others without author attribution is plagiarism and contributes to illiteracy.”
- Rain Bojangles
“Most plagiarists, like the drone, have neither taste to select, industry to acquire, nor skill to improve, but impudently pilfer the honey ready prepared, from the hive.”
- Walter Colton
“Borrowed thoughts, like borrowed money, only show the poverty of the borrower.”
- Lady Marguerite Blessington, Countess of Blessington
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EXCERPT OPENING
I wiped the perspiration from my face with the sleeve of my arm knowing that I probably only managed to smear more dirt and grime across my youthful mug. I took a deep breath, stepped back and looked over my work nodding my head with approval. The repairs to the gate that connected our ranch to our neighbor’s had taken longer than I had expected. I walked back to my ATV and dumped the tools in the back of the trailer that was attached to it. Reaching into my cooler I extracted a bottle of water and surveyed the landscape while I re-hydrated.
Although I am only 14 years old I loved working on our ranch. I’ve been out of school now for a little over a week for summer break, but I was already behind on this year’s list of things to do. By many standards in these parts we owned a small size ranch of only about 400 acres. It was just dad and I now at the ranch, but it was mostly me who worked the land because he worked at the region’s biggest hospital. Needless to say, he was gone for periods of time but I had learned to adapt. From time to time we took on some hired hands to help us maintain the ranch.
At 400 acres in size the land was large enough for some cattle that we maintained throughout the year. The ranch has been in our family for several generations coming from my Mom’s side of the family. I was only 8 years old when she died in a car accident. She was carpooling with a friend of hers whose turn it was to drive when a truck rammed into the passenger side killing her instantly and sending her friend into the hospital. At that point dad had thought about selling the ranch, but my older brother and I begged him not to. My brother and I both pitched in to preserve the place. Then, a couple of years later my brother got sick from a rare form of cancer and passed away as well, leaving just dad and myself on this land. I know that he had considered selling again, but he knew that my stubborn streak would never allow it so never brought it up.
The cold water slid down my throat helping to quench my thirst and cool me off. I was feeling very content at that moment as I surveyed my week’s worth of work. I was mending the fence line and it had been going pretty quickly until I had reached the gate. This past winter’s storms had messed up the hinges and I had to replace them with new ones.
I looked passed the gate over to old man Markovich’s land. He only had about 50 acres, not really considered a ranch in these parts, but big enough to suit him just fine. The old man had been a constant pillar of strength during our family’s tragic years. He had helped us out many times and was always at the ready to lend a helping hand. I had passed through this gate frequently, making my way over to his humble house when my father was gone for longer periods of times. He was great company telling such grand stories that would occupy my young mind during my lonely times. Sadly, he too passed away not all that long ago, just a few weeks after Christmas. This time though it wasn’t a tragedy, but rather old age that had finally managed to catch up to him. He was another person in my life that had left a huge hole in my heart. My mom had often said bad things happen in three’s. I hoped she was right because I’ve had enough of death in my short little years.
Mr. Markovich had migrated here from one of those Eastern European countries. He had told me once which one, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember anymore. I know that over the years many of these Eastern European Countries changed and I just couldn’t keep track, who could? Anyway, he still had family over there and I know that my father had been helping Mr. Markovich with all of the proper paperwork so he could bring his niece over here to live. She was some sort of hospital specialist and my father was in a position to offer her a job at his hospital.
After his death we found out that he had left the property to his niece and her husband so my dad continued to work on getting her back here. A couple of months ago we got word her Work Visa had been approved and she was preparing to move here. It was upon hearing this news that had prompted me to get over to Mr. Markovich’s house and try to get some semblance of order before his niece arrived. It was also part of the reason why I was now a little behind on my own list of chores for our ranch. I had spent about two months doing the repairs to the old house and ranch. It is amazing how much work needs to be done when a ranch is neglected for half of the winter.
A nice breeze picked up and I closed my eyes enjoying this unusual treat in these parts. When I opened them back up I suddenly felt the land beneath my feet shuddering slightly with birds taking flight all around; especially back up in the hills and trees off in the distance. For a second it confused me because it had felt like a small earthquake which was unusual for our region. I paused looking around noticing the birds settling back into the trees. If it was an earthquake I wondered if we would have an aftershock since I’ve heard that usually happens.
Shrugging my shoulders since it didn’t seem to have been anything major, I dropped the empty water bottle in the back of the trailer and un-hitched it from my new ATV. I recently upgraded to the bigger 250cc utility ATV with 4 stroke manual transmission and water cooled engine. I had outgrown my smaller 110cc ATV and my father knew that I worked hard, did well in sports, and got good grades in school; so he prompted me to get the upgrade. On the one hand I had been excited about it, but on the other hand I loved that little ATV because it had belonged to my older brother, and to me it almost felt like I had betrayed him somehow. Out here on the ranch an ATV was an integral part of my daily life so I had accepted the inevitable and finally did the upgrade. These days I felt a lot better about it.
I had gotten a really early start on the work today and looking up to the sky figured it was probably late morning already. My stomach rumbled in protest confirming my suspicions about the time. Just then I felt the earth beneath my feet rumble once more, but it seemed a bit stronger which I thought was odd for an earthquake aftershock. Once more the birds took to the air flittering around and making a big racket for several minutes before settling back into the trees.
My stomach rumbled once more reminding me of the time. So ignoring the unusual activity of an earthquake I put on my protective gear, started up my ATV, and headed towards home to get a bite to eat before returning for another couple of hours. After that it would be getting too hot to work. Normally I would have brought out some lunch but had decided this morning that it would be nice to heat up the chicken goulash I had prepared last night. A recipe taught to me by none other than Mr. Markovich.
Without the trailer attached I powered down the trail at breakneck speed pushing the engine and testing my ability on the new more powerful vehicle. I dabbled a while with dirt bike racing so was a pretty accomplished rider and I knew the terrain very well so wasn’t worried about wiping out or anything. I know my dad would have chewed me a new one if he had seen me.
Fifteen minutes later and I was pulling in to the old barn behind our house where I stored my ATV. I hopped off and peeled off my riding gear setting them on one of the shelves. I headed towards the back porch and entered the mud room where I started the water in the large deep sink. It was a fairly typical small room that most houses had in these parts with a simple area just inside the door where a person could get out of his filthy clothing and get a bit cleaned up so he wouldn’t track mud throughout the home. I started to adjust the temperature flow on the faucet so I could get washed up; when I thought I heard something pounding on the front door. I cocked my head to the side and heard it again. Someone definitely was at the front door.
“Shit,” I said as I kicked off my shoes so I could cross the other side of our dwelling without tracking dirt throughout the house. To this day I can still hear my mom yell, ‘take off those shoes before you go tracking dirt throughout my house.’
Being way out here in the middle of nowhere in ranch country we didn’t get many visitors knocking on our front door, so I beat a quick path to open the door before whomever it was disappeared. I heard the pounding again, this time it sounded like there was a little more urgency to it, “Yeah, hold on a minute,” I yelled a little frustrated. I finally rounded the corner and reached for the doorknob and turned the handle letting the door swing open.
Standing in front of me was a stranger, yet a stranger with a familiar face. It was a woman and she had a look of concern on her face. She seemed very familiar to me and I was trying to put a name to the face. I don’t know if it was my dirty appearance or the look of confusion on my face that made her take a step backwards. Whatever the reason, it was this little movement that brought me out of my stupor. I finally managed to remember my manners and smiled warmly at her.
If there is one thing my mom made sure of, it was that both of her boys had proper manners around adults. Of course, being a teenager, there was a proper way to behave around adults, and a totally opposite way of behaving around your peers. For the most part I was a pretty well behaved kid, but being a teenager I do have my moments.
“Sorry about my appearance Ma-am, but I just got back from doing some work on the fence line and gate back in the hills of our property. I was just getting ready to wash up a little when I heard the knocking on my door.”
The woman looked at me for a moment as if trying to understand and then smiled back at me warmly before responding in a thick accent. “No problem, boy. Is father or mother in house?”
As soon as she spoke I knew immediately who she was by her accent. Mr. Markovich had the same deep accent that he never seemed to be able to shake over the years.
“You must be Mr. Markovich’s niece,” I said smiling beckoning her to step inside the house. I stepped off to the side so she could come in as I continued to talk. “Dad told me you arrived a few days ago and I had been meaning to drop by and introduce myself, but I had gotten a little behind on my work so I’m trying to catch up. I hope everything was in good working order up by your house,” I stated as I started to shut the door behind her.
The door was halfway closed when I felt something pushing back on it. I peered around the door frame and saw another smaller figure pushing back against the door. It was a young boy, about ten or eleven years old. He was a stunning figure with whitish blond unruly curly locks coming around his ears and the most sparkling bright blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I had stopped breathing for a moment and had to literally remind myself to breathe.
“Oh, sorry dude, didn’t realize you were there, come on in,” I said as I once again swung the door open. He didn’t budge and stood there looking at me for a few seconds when I heard the woman speaking to the boy in a language I didn’t understand.
“You must excuse…um, how you say, boy…no um, son… um, yes son,” she repeated smiling warmly at me. “My boy…son, not so good with the English, my English only a little better,” she replied.
I nodded my head in understanding. “I think your English is very good. Don’t worry about me not understanding. I spent a lot of time together with your uncle so I got to understand his accent pretty well. Oh, by the way my name is Robby…Robby Stanton” I said wiping my hand on my shirt before extending it out to her.
She smiled warmly at me again and looked at my dirty hand before taking it into her own. I could feel the tender softness of her skin as she warmly took my greeting. “My name is Anna Markowski, and this is Anatoli,” she said pointing to her little boy.
“It’s nice to finally meet you formally Mrs. Markowski,” I said before turning and extending my hand to Anatoli. “It’s also nice to meet you Anatoli.” I stood there with my hand held out barely able to breathe as I looked upon this beautiful creation standing in front of me.
I don’t know what had gotten over me. I’ve never looked at boys like this, but there was something about this little kid that was almost intoxicating. My hand was still extended, shaking a little because of him, waiting for his greeting when his mother once again interjected in that unfamiliar language saying something to him. The boy said something back and I got the feeling he was a little insulted at being offered a dirty hand. I shrugged my shoulder and dropped my hand back to my side.
“It’s cool,” I whispered to him and then winked giving him a big smile. “No worries if you’re a little shy, or just don’t want to shake a dirty hand. I know I must be a sight to behold all sweaty and dirty this early in the morning,” I said laughing out loud and giving him a friendly punch in the arm.
He returned my smile with a little look of irritation, and then looked away when he caught a glaring look from his mother. I remembered that kind of look myself. I had gotten that, ‘I will deal with you later, young man,’ look from my mother plenty of times, not to mention a few time from my father as well.
I could tell the kid wasn’t in a very good mood. Hey, I’ve had my days as well, what kid hasn’t. The look Mrs. Markowski was shooting at her son wouldn’t help matters any either. She turned her attention back to me, “Please to forgive my son, his manners not so good these many days.”
Anatoli said something to his mother; whereby, she replied back in an admonishing kind of manner. He started to speak again and she cut him off with a stern look. She spoke to him a little more and then turned her attention back to me and started to say something but my interest had been piqued so I quickly interjected.
“What did he say just now?”
She looked at me then back to her son, then back to me with a little worried expression.
“Look,” I said giving her a warm smile. “I know he is a little bent out of shape about something, but maybe we can bring him out of this sour mood if I knew what he said.”
She thought a moment and then sighed, “He said we shouldn’t be talking to the, how you say in English, servant…no not servant, I think you cowboys say ‘hired hand.’” She looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
I on the other hand busted up laughing and slapped Anatoli on the shoulder. “Whoa that’s a good one there partner.” Mrs. Markowski translated to her son. I was laughing so hard that I had to wipe away some tears from the corner of my eye which I know probably only managed to smear some more dirt around on my face.
Both Anatoli and his mother must have thought I was crazy, but Mrs. Markowski was smiling and starting to laugh herself because my hearty laughter was a bit contagious. Anatoli started to crack a smile, but then stifled it returning to his doom and gloom demeanor.
I got myself under control and asked Mrs. Markowski if she could translate for me, she agreed.
“Anatoli, listen. I really wish I was a hired hand. I’d get paid a lot more money around here than my dad gives me for an allowance. We own about 400 acres with a small heard of cattle. There is always something to do on a ranch, always something that needs to be taken care of, repaired, or fixed. My mother always said ‘it doesn’t matter what kind of job you have because a job that needs to be done is a job needing to be done well.’ My father can afford to hire people to work our ranch, but in these parts if you truly own the land, want to be part of it and want to understand it, then you work it yourself. Our ranch is considered pretty small, but I can show you some of the biggest ranches around these parts with people who have millions of dollars, yet they are there working the land right alongside their hired hands. They are some of the most humble people and you would never know by just looking at them that they are loaded with money. To be a leader means leading by good example. Your Uncle was a good man and a very good mentor to me who would never disrespect anyone who extended their hand in greeting. My hand could be dripping with cow dung, and he would still gladly shake it with a warm smile and greeting. Out here neighbors depend on one another. If you haven’t noticed, we are kind of isolated.” I tried to explain taking the time to pause every once in a while to allow for a translation.
Mrs. Markowski finished translating what I said to her son, and he looked down kind of ashamed at how he had treated me. He slowly extended his hand and I took it in my own giving it a firm grip. He had smaller hands, but he returned my firm grasp with a solid one of his own. With my left hand I reached up under his chin lifting his face so that we were making eye contact. His deep blue eyes made me weak in the knees, but I managed to smile warmly at him.
“Good man, Anatoli. It takes a bigger man to own up to his error of judgment. We all make mistakes, but only a man will take responsibility for those actions. Understand?”
His mother translated giving me a very pleased look. Anatoli in return nodded his understanding and gave me a warm smile. He almost seemed to beam with pride at my compliment. I had managed to deflate the situation whereby both mother and son were able to save their pride intact. When he smiled at me it almost sent me swooning. I don’t know what was happening to me, but I just seemed to have this connection with him and by the way he was now looking at me I thought that maybe he felt the same sort of bond.
He finally released my hand and I noticed he didn’t even wipe it clean. Instead he just glanced at it real quick and when he looked up flashed me a sincere grin. I almost had to force my smile because my heart seemed to cave in upon itself once he released my hand. I felt a sense of loneliness and loss when the brief contact was broken. I said ‘almost’ because he had such a wonderful smile with those sparkling blue eyes that I couldn’t help myself as I grinned back and gave him a wink.
We were still standing in the foyer area of the doorway when I came back to my senses and said, “Oh heck, sorry, here I am forgetting my manners again. Come in both of you,” I stated as I led them past the living room and into the kitchen area. I snatched up a clean cup, put it under the dispenser area of our super automatic coffee machine and hit the button.
I was only 14 but already an avid coffee drinker and a few years back we purchased this coffee maker. It was a fantastic piece of equipment that made fresh coffee by the cup. I leave it on stand-by mode for most of the day so all I have to do is just put the cup under the dispenser, hit the button, and in about 30 seconds I have a fresh cup of brew.
The way it works is that you put whole coffee beans in the hopper area and when you press the button the machine grinds some of the coffee beans in the hopper, puts it in the coffee puck and tamps it down. Hot water is run through the machine under high pressure, and out pours the fresh coffee. When it’s done the machine dumps the used coffee into a side container that you can empty and clean later. You can adjust the settings for the fineness or coarseness of the grind, the amount of beans it grinds, and also how much liquid it dispenses through to your cup. You can even steam and froth hot milk so you can make a Latte. I loved this little machine and often wondered how I ever managed without it. Drip coffee just wasn’t the same anymore.
While the coffee machine was doing its thing, I went over to the refrigerator, removed the extremely large pot of chicken goulash, scooped out some into a smaller pot, and placed the smaller pot on the oven to warm up. It was already cooked so it only needed to be reheated and I knew it wouldn’t take long as I set it on medium high. I then returned the large commercial sized pot back into the refrigerator. Normally when I cooked something like this I made a huge batch so that I could freeze a bunch of it to use sometime in the future. It saved me time and energy in the long run.
I reached back into the refrigerator and got out some apple juice and poured it into a cup handing it over to Anatoli. He looked at it for a moment and took a sip nodding his head in approval. For some reason I’ve always had a knack for knowing what people liked never asking them but instead just prepared it and handed it over to them. Dad always scolds me and tells me I should ask first, but it seems like I’m always in motion so automatically do things without asking or thinking twice about it.
Popping back over to the refrigerator I pulled out the little container of creamer, and then grabbed the little bowl of sugar setting on the counter top as I headed back over to the little bar isle and motioned for Mrs. Markowski to take a seat. We had a little bar isle that separated the kitchen area from the dining room. With it being just Dad and myself, most of the times we ate right there instead of in the dining room. It was long enough to hold three bar stools and Mrs. Markowski now sat down on the last one on the end.
Picking up the creamer and sugar off the counter top next to the refrigerator I placed them in front of my guest, fished out a spoon, and walked over to retrieve the now piping hot cup of coffee. She was fidgeting in her chair as she poured some cream and sugar into her coffee, and I could sense she was in a bit of a hurry for some reason when I had set it down in front of her. Throughout this procedure I had been talking a mile a minute about her Uncle and just every day things. It had all taken only a minute or so, but I could sense something was on her mind.
I knew she wanted to talk, but I just had to get cleaned up. “Mrs. Markowski, if you can wait just a moment more I have to get a little cleaned up.” She started to say something but I held up my hand apologetically and said,” it won’t take but a moment, I promise, and then you can tell me what’s on your mind. I’ve been out working since early this morning and I’m all sweaty and grimy so just need to wash up a bit. I’ll be right back.” She nodded her head giving me permission and I headed back to the mud room. I could hear her saying something in a hurried tone to Anatoli, but again I couldn’t understand so continued on my way.
After getting to the mud room I started stripping out of my shirt when I noticed Anatoli had followed me back. Now it began to make sense why his mother had yelled out to him. She had wanted to tell him to stay with her, but he must have been curious so pretended not to hear and had followed me back.
I smiled at him noticing for the first time what he was wearing. Before then I had only noticed him from the neck up, weird huh? He was wearing a yellow soccer jersey and white soccer shorts with a pair of well worn sneakers. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed at the stunning creature standing in front of me. He was a fit kid, a little on the wiry side, with soft features. His loose blond curls accentuated his oval face, high cheekbones, full bright red lips, petite nose, and those big sparkling blue eyes.
While I was checking him out discretely he was stealing glances towards me as well. It was kind of awkward for him because I was stripping out of my clothes and it must have caught him off guard. He didn’t realize I was going to get cleaned up and had followed me back out of curiosity.
The blond curly haired boy turned beat red for a moment as he motioned that he was going to head back to his mother. I don’t know how much English he could understand but I spoke up saying,” it’s alright dude, you can stay. I’m not shy and won’t bite.” I waved my hand indicating it was alright so he shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the doorjamb glancing my way every once in a while as I dropped my dirty pants onto the floor. I then removed my socks, which left me in nothing more than my boxer briefs.
Most of my friends wore those loose boxers; mostly to hide their junk and help conceal their boners when one would pop for no reason at all. I preferred something that held my stuff in place and fit snuggly against my legs. I also liked how they looked on me as they seemed to accentuate my little manhood making me look a little bigger in that department. Personally, I thought I looked flattering in them with my smaller fit frame.
Sticking my head under the faucet and rinsing out my hair I could feel his eyes on me as if he were checking me out. I grabbed a rag and started to wash off most of the grime from my body. Working on the ranch kept my body lean and trim, and I was proud of how I looked. I knew I looked pretty good with a nice physique because of the comments I’ve received over the years from girls at school and some of my friends. I was a little on the smaller side from other boys my age, only barely over five feet tall and weighing in at about a hundred pounds when I’m lucky, fully dressed, and totally wet.
I’ll be fifteen in a few months, and even though I am smaller than the majority of kids my age in school, I am leaner and more fit than most of them. The work I do around the ranch keeps me strong and in shape. I was on the school wrestling team and had pretty smooth moves. Being smaller, but really strong, I went undefeated this past school year in my weight and age division winning State Championship. I have light brown hair with big round brown eyes, and soft facial features; no shaving yet and I figured probably not for many more years. Since we eat mostly organic food in our house puberty had a later start for me than most kids in my school because we didn’t eat food that was pumped full of hormones. I didn’t start developing hair around my little manhood and nut sack until I was well into my thirteenth year; as a matter of fact it was only a little before my fourteenth birthday when they started to sprout. Currently, I still had only a small patch of soft brown downy hair on my pubic mound with no hair at all under my arms. My body was smooth and hairless for the most part. Even my arms and legs were basically hairless and fairly smooth.
I wasn’t that big in the pecker department either, but some of my closest friends had mentioned on occasion that my package looked perfect on me. I was only about four inches when hard, three when soft, with a thin shaft which made my pecker look longer than it really was. The average erect penis size for a boy turning fifteen is between three and a half to six and a half inches long so I was kind of on the short end of the spectrum. I knew this because with the wonders of our technological age it is easy enough to look this type of information up in places such as a search on Google. Since I was a late bloomer I wasn’t too worried and knew that it would just take me a little longer.
Most boys tend to exaggerate their penis size when they brag to their peers. Because of all the bragging that goes on most tend to feel that they are way too small in that department; however, a little research reveals that for the most part they are pretty average.
My balls hung loosely between my legs but not really low which in retrospect would have looked weird on a smaller frame like I had if they sagged too low. All in all I think my overall appearance suited me well. I was very proud with my looks and the whole puberty thing never really bothered me. I had some pretty cool friends and never really got teased about it in a bad way. My friends joked around a little, like most typical teenagers, but it was always in good taste and never in a mean spirited kind of way.
While getting cleaned up every once in a while I would glance over at Anatoli and notice how his eyes were scanning over my fit and trim body stopping now and then to stare at my crotch area. I knew he was probably wondering what was hidden down there. Hell, he’s only a kid and I know we all at one time or another had checked out other boys just to be able to compare ourselves to them. There really wasn’t anything sexual about it, just more like it was curiosity.
I too was kind of wondering what was between his legs and started to scrutinize him closer as well. I noticed he was sporting a small boner because his clean white shorts were starting to tent out a little which began to excite me as well. Seeing him chubbed up had my own little pecker twitching in my boxer briefs. I don’t know what had gotten over me. I mean I’ve checked out guys before in the shower room after gym or at other times when the opportunity presented itself, and sometimes I would pop a boner, but most guys did from time to time. This somehow felt a little different. This time my stomach started getting these butterfly twinges and my breath would catch in my chest.
His eyes sparkled and he licked his lips as I pulled the elastic of my briefs outwards from my body and dipped my hand inside with the wet rag sponging myself clean. His face turned a scarlet red color as his blue eyes locked onto my brown eyes and he realized I had just caught him checking me out. Normally I would have dropped my boxers and changed into a clean pair, but I saw how embarrassed he was at being caught so I just removed my hand from beneath my boxer briefs and rinsed out the rag. I quickly got dressed into a clean set of clothes I had set on the shelf before heading out earlier that morning and spread out my arms.
“I clean up pretty good, huh?” I asked him as I turned around in a slow circle. He looked at me a little quizzically. He seemed to understand me a little, but wasn’t quite sure exactly what I had said and I figured it was probably more due to some of the slang versus actually not understanding English.
I tried again by simply saying “better?”
He smiled at me and nodded his head in the affirmative, “better,” he replied in a thick accent.
I chuckled and ruffled his hair as I passed him to head back towards his mother. “Let’s go see what your mom is fretting about,” I stated without looking back to see if he understood me.
After a couple of steps I realized he wasn’t following me and turned to see what was holding him up. I caught him adjusting his boner and quickly turned back around not wanting to embarrass him more, but also not before I saw the outline of his little stiff boy toy pressing up against the silky material of his white soccer shorts. That wonderful image was now burned in my memory and it was starting to affect me as I felt my own little pecker start to twitch inside my snug fitting jeans. I could feel my rapidly expanding pistol starting to press up against the fabric of my pants, but continued to walk down the hallway hoping it would soften up before reaching the kitchen.
That kid was really starting to affect me in a weird way. I had never felt this way about anyone much less one I had just met a few minutes ago. I mean it wasn’t as if I hadn’t messed around with other boys before in regards to some sex games, but that had been different. That had been more along the lines of discovering our budding manliness and learning about our sexuality. I’ve had jacking sessions with some of my friends and it had been exciting watching them get all sexed up. At times we all had helped each other out as well when we touched one another. Those times had been a wonderful experience, but I had moved on from those types of experiences to different ones when I started dating some of the girls in my school. Now, when I looked at Anatoli my feelings seemed to be at a more heightened state than at any one of my previous experiences, including those with girls.
I shook my head trying to clear these thoughts from my mind. Then another thought struck me. I had recently broken up with my latest girlfriend a couple of months ago. Before our breakup our relationship had progressed to the state of a lot of petting and oral sex which was very stimulating to say the least. However, since my breakup, the closest sexual relationship I was having had been with my right hand. Maybe, it was just my hormones going all catty wonkers on me for the lack of good sexual companionship. That must be it I thought to myself and started feeling a little better about everything by the time I finally reached the kitchen.
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End of Chapter One
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- Rain Bojangles
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- Walter Colton
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- Lady Marguerite Blessington, Countess of Blessington
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EXCERPT OPENING
I wiped the perspiration from my face with the sleeve of my arm knowing that I probably only managed to smear more dirt and grime across my youthful mug. I took a deep breath, stepped back and looked over my work nodding my head with approval. The repairs to the gate that connected our ranch to our neighbor’s had taken longer than I had expected. I walked back to my ATV and dumped the tools in the back of the trailer that was attached to it. Reaching into my cooler I extracted a bottle of water and surveyed the landscape while I re-hydrated.
Although I am only 14 years old I loved working on our ranch. I’ve been out of school now for a little over a week for summer break, but I was already behind on this year’s list of things to do. By many standards in these parts we owned a small size ranch of only about 400 acres. It was just dad and I now at the ranch, but it was mostly me who worked the land because he worked at the region’s biggest hospital. Needless to say, he was gone for periods of time but I had learned to adapt. From time to time we took on some hired hands to help us maintain the ranch.
At 400 acres in size the land was large enough for some cattle that we maintained throughout the year. The ranch has been in our family for several generations coming from my Mom’s side of the family. I was only 8 years old when she died in a car accident. She was carpooling with a friend of hers whose turn it was to drive when a truck rammed into the passenger side killing her instantly and sending her friend into the hospital. At that point dad had thought about selling the ranch, but my older brother and I begged him not to. My brother and I both pitched in to preserve the place. Then, a couple of years later my brother got sick from a rare form of cancer and passed away as well, leaving just dad and myself on this land. I know that he had considered selling again, but he knew that my stubborn streak would never allow it so never brought it up.
The cold water slid down my throat helping to quench my thirst and cool me off. I was feeling very content at that moment as I surveyed my week’s worth of work. I was mending the fence line and it had been going pretty quickly until I had reached the gate. This past winter’s storms had messed up the hinges and I had to replace them with new ones.
I looked passed the gate over to old man Markovich’s land. He only had about 50 acres, not really considered a ranch in these parts, but big enough to suit him just fine. The old man had been a constant pillar of strength during our family’s tragic years. He had helped us out many times and was always at the ready to lend a helping hand. I had passed through this gate frequently, making my way over to his humble house when my father was gone for longer periods of times. He was great company telling such grand stories that would occupy my young mind during my lonely times. Sadly, he too passed away not all that long ago, just a few weeks after Christmas. This time though it wasn’t a tragedy, but rather old age that had finally managed to catch up to him. He was another person in my life that had left a huge hole in my heart. My mom had often said bad things happen in three’s. I hoped she was right because I’ve had enough of death in my short little years.
Mr. Markovich had migrated here from one of those Eastern European countries. He had told me once which one, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember anymore. I know that over the years many of these Eastern European Countries changed and I just couldn’t keep track, who could? Anyway, he still had family over there and I know that my father had been helping Mr. Markovich with all of the proper paperwork so he could bring his niece over here to live. She was some sort of hospital specialist and my father was in a position to offer her a job at his hospital.
After his death we found out that he had left the property to his niece and her husband so my dad continued to work on getting her back here. A couple of months ago we got word her Work Visa had been approved and she was preparing to move here. It was upon hearing this news that had prompted me to get over to Mr. Markovich’s house and try to get some semblance of order before his niece arrived. It was also part of the reason why I was now a little behind on my own list of chores for our ranch. I had spent about two months doing the repairs to the old house and ranch. It is amazing how much work needs to be done when a ranch is neglected for half of the winter.
A nice breeze picked up and I closed my eyes enjoying this unusual treat in these parts. When I opened them back up I suddenly felt the land beneath my feet shuddering slightly with birds taking flight all around; especially back up in the hills and trees off in the distance. For a second it confused me because it had felt like a small earthquake which was unusual for our region. I paused looking around noticing the birds settling back into the trees. If it was an earthquake I wondered if we would have an aftershock since I’ve heard that usually happens.
Shrugging my shoulders since it didn’t seem to have been anything major, I dropped the empty water bottle in the back of the trailer and un-hitched it from my new ATV. I recently upgraded to the bigger 250cc utility ATV with 4 stroke manual transmission and water cooled engine. I had outgrown my smaller 110cc ATV and my father knew that I worked hard, did well in sports, and got good grades in school; so he prompted me to get the upgrade. On the one hand I had been excited about it, but on the other hand I loved that little ATV because it had belonged to my older brother, and to me it almost felt like I had betrayed him somehow. Out here on the ranch an ATV was an integral part of my daily life so I had accepted the inevitable and finally did the upgrade. These days I felt a lot better about it.
I had gotten a really early start on the work today and looking up to the sky figured it was probably late morning already. My stomach rumbled in protest confirming my suspicions about the time. Just then I felt the earth beneath my feet rumble once more, but it seemed a bit stronger which I thought was odd for an earthquake aftershock. Once more the birds took to the air flittering around and making a big racket for several minutes before settling back into the trees.
My stomach rumbled once more reminding me of the time. So ignoring the unusual activity of an earthquake I put on my protective gear, started up my ATV, and headed towards home to get a bite to eat before returning for another couple of hours. After that it would be getting too hot to work. Normally I would have brought out some lunch but had decided this morning that it would be nice to heat up the chicken goulash I had prepared last night. A recipe taught to me by none other than Mr. Markovich.
Without the trailer attached I powered down the trail at breakneck speed pushing the engine and testing my ability on the new more powerful vehicle. I dabbled a while with dirt bike racing so was a pretty accomplished rider and I knew the terrain very well so wasn’t worried about wiping out or anything. I know my dad would have chewed me a new one if he had seen me.
Fifteen minutes later and I was pulling in to the old barn behind our house where I stored my ATV. I hopped off and peeled off my riding gear setting them on one of the shelves. I headed towards the back porch and entered the mud room where I started the water in the large deep sink. It was a fairly typical small room that most houses had in these parts with a simple area just inside the door where a person could get out of his filthy clothing and get a bit cleaned up so he wouldn’t track mud throughout the home. I started to adjust the temperature flow on the faucet so I could get washed up; when I thought I heard something pounding on the front door. I cocked my head to the side and heard it again. Someone definitely was at the front door.
“Shit,” I said as I kicked off my shoes so I could cross the other side of our dwelling without tracking dirt throughout the house. To this day I can still hear my mom yell, ‘take off those shoes before you go tracking dirt throughout my house.’
Being way out here in the middle of nowhere in ranch country we didn’t get many visitors knocking on our front door, so I beat a quick path to open the door before whomever it was disappeared. I heard the pounding again, this time it sounded like there was a little more urgency to it, “Yeah, hold on a minute,” I yelled a little frustrated. I finally rounded the corner and reached for the doorknob and turned the handle letting the door swing open.
Standing in front of me was a stranger, yet a stranger with a familiar face. It was a woman and she had a look of concern on her face. She seemed very familiar to me and I was trying to put a name to the face. I don’t know if it was my dirty appearance or the look of confusion on my face that made her take a step backwards. Whatever the reason, it was this little movement that brought me out of my stupor. I finally managed to remember my manners and smiled warmly at her.
If there is one thing my mom made sure of, it was that both of her boys had proper manners around adults. Of course, being a teenager, there was a proper way to behave around adults, and a totally opposite way of behaving around your peers. For the most part I was a pretty well behaved kid, but being a teenager I do have my moments.
“Sorry about my appearance Ma-am, but I just got back from doing some work on the fence line and gate back in the hills of our property. I was just getting ready to wash up a little when I heard the knocking on my door.”
The woman looked at me for a moment as if trying to understand and then smiled back at me warmly before responding in a thick accent. “No problem, boy. Is father or mother in house?”
As soon as she spoke I knew immediately who she was by her accent. Mr. Markovich had the same deep accent that he never seemed to be able to shake over the years.
“You must be Mr. Markovich’s niece,” I said smiling beckoning her to step inside the house. I stepped off to the side so she could come in as I continued to talk. “Dad told me you arrived a few days ago and I had been meaning to drop by and introduce myself, but I had gotten a little behind on my work so I’m trying to catch up. I hope everything was in good working order up by your house,” I stated as I started to shut the door behind her.
The door was halfway closed when I felt something pushing back on it. I peered around the door frame and saw another smaller figure pushing back against the door. It was a young boy, about ten or eleven years old. He was a stunning figure with whitish blond unruly curly locks coming around his ears and the most sparkling bright blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I had stopped breathing for a moment and had to literally remind myself to breathe.
“Oh, sorry dude, didn’t realize you were there, come on in,” I said as I once again swung the door open. He didn’t budge and stood there looking at me for a few seconds when I heard the woman speaking to the boy in a language I didn’t understand.
“You must excuse…um, how you say, boy…no um, son… um, yes son,” she repeated smiling warmly at me. “My boy…son, not so good with the English, my English only a little better,” she replied.
I nodded my head in understanding. “I think your English is very good. Don’t worry about me not understanding. I spent a lot of time together with your uncle so I got to understand his accent pretty well. Oh, by the way my name is Robby…Robby Stanton” I said wiping my hand on my shirt before extending it out to her.
She smiled warmly at me again and looked at my dirty hand before taking it into her own. I could feel the tender softness of her skin as she warmly took my greeting. “My name is Anna Markowski, and this is Anatoli,” she said pointing to her little boy.
“It’s nice to finally meet you formally Mrs. Markowski,” I said before turning and extending my hand to Anatoli. “It’s also nice to meet you Anatoli.” I stood there with my hand held out barely able to breathe as I looked upon this beautiful creation standing in front of me.
I don’t know what had gotten over me. I’ve never looked at boys like this, but there was something about this little kid that was almost intoxicating. My hand was still extended, shaking a little because of him, waiting for his greeting when his mother once again interjected in that unfamiliar language saying something to him. The boy said something back and I got the feeling he was a little insulted at being offered a dirty hand. I shrugged my shoulder and dropped my hand back to my side.
“It’s cool,” I whispered to him and then winked giving him a big smile. “No worries if you’re a little shy, or just don’t want to shake a dirty hand. I know I must be a sight to behold all sweaty and dirty this early in the morning,” I said laughing out loud and giving him a friendly punch in the arm.
He returned my smile with a little look of irritation, and then looked away when he caught a glaring look from his mother. I remembered that kind of look myself. I had gotten that, ‘I will deal with you later, young man,’ look from my mother plenty of times, not to mention a few time from my father as well.
I could tell the kid wasn’t in a very good mood. Hey, I’ve had my days as well, what kid hasn’t. The look Mrs. Markowski was shooting at her son wouldn’t help matters any either. She turned her attention back to me, “Please to forgive my son, his manners not so good these many days.”
Anatoli said something to his mother; whereby, she replied back in an admonishing kind of manner. He started to speak again and she cut him off with a stern look. She spoke to him a little more and then turned her attention back to me and started to say something but my interest had been piqued so I quickly interjected.
“What did he say just now?”
She looked at me then back to her son, then back to me with a little worried expression.
“Look,” I said giving her a warm smile. “I know he is a little bent out of shape about something, but maybe we can bring him out of this sour mood if I knew what he said.”
She thought a moment and then sighed, “He said we shouldn’t be talking to the, how you say in English, servant…no not servant, I think you cowboys say ‘hired hand.’” She looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
I on the other hand busted up laughing and slapped Anatoli on the shoulder. “Whoa that’s a good one there partner.” Mrs. Markowski translated to her son. I was laughing so hard that I had to wipe away some tears from the corner of my eye which I know probably only managed to smear some more dirt around on my face.
Both Anatoli and his mother must have thought I was crazy, but Mrs. Markowski was smiling and starting to laugh herself because my hearty laughter was a bit contagious. Anatoli started to crack a smile, but then stifled it returning to his doom and gloom demeanor.
I got myself under control and asked Mrs. Markowski if she could translate for me, she agreed.
“Anatoli, listen. I really wish I was a hired hand. I’d get paid a lot more money around here than my dad gives me for an allowance. We own about 400 acres with a small heard of cattle. There is always something to do on a ranch, always something that needs to be taken care of, repaired, or fixed. My mother always said ‘it doesn’t matter what kind of job you have because a job that needs to be done is a job needing to be done well.’ My father can afford to hire people to work our ranch, but in these parts if you truly own the land, want to be part of it and want to understand it, then you work it yourself. Our ranch is considered pretty small, but I can show you some of the biggest ranches around these parts with people who have millions of dollars, yet they are there working the land right alongside their hired hands. They are some of the most humble people and you would never know by just looking at them that they are loaded with money. To be a leader means leading by good example. Your Uncle was a good man and a very good mentor to me who would never disrespect anyone who extended their hand in greeting. My hand could be dripping with cow dung, and he would still gladly shake it with a warm smile and greeting. Out here neighbors depend on one another. If you haven’t noticed, we are kind of isolated.” I tried to explain taking the time to pause every once in a while to allow for a translation.
Mrs. Markowski finished translating what I said to her son, and he looked down kind of ashamed at how he had treated me. He slowly extended his hand and I took it in my own giving it a firm grip. He had smaller hands, but he returned my firm grasp with a solid one of his own. With my left hand I reached up under his chin lifting his face so that we were making eye contact. His deep blue eyes made me weak in the knees, but I managed to smile warmly at him.
“Good man, Anatoli. It takes a bigger man to own up to his error of judgment. We all make mistakes, but only a man will take responsibility for those actions. Understand?”
His mother translated giving me a very pleased look. Anatoli in return nodded his understanding and gave me a warm smile. He almost seemed to beam with pride at my compliment. I had managed to deflate the situation whereby both mother and son were able to save their pride intact. When he smiled at me it almost sent me swooning. I don’t know what was happening to me, but I just seemed to have this connection with him and by the way he was now looking at me I thought that maybe he felt the same sort of bond.
He finally released my hand and I noticed he didn’t even wipe it clean. Instead he just glanced at it real quick and when he looked up flashed me a sincere grin. I almost had to force my smile because my heart seemed to cave in upon itself once he released my hand. I felt a sense of loneliness and loss when the brief contact was broken. I said ‘almost’ because he had such a wonderful smile with those sparkling blue eyes that I couldn’t help myself as I grinned back and gave him a wink.
We were still standing in the foyer area of the doorway when I came back to my senses and said, “Oh heck, sorry, here I am forgetting my manners again. Come in both of you,” I stated as I led them past the living room and into the kitchen area. I snatched up a clean cup, put it under the dispenser area of our super automatic coffee machine and hit the button.
I was only 14 but already an avid coffee drinker and a few years back we purchased this coffee maker. It was a fantastic piece of equipment that made fresh coffee by the cup. I leave it on stand-by mode for most of the day so all I have to do is just put the cup under the dispenser, hit the button, and in about 30 seconds I have a fresh cup of brew.
The way it works is that you put whole coffee beans in the hopper area and when you press the button the machine grinds some of the coffee beans in the hopper, puts it in the coffee puck and tamps it down. Hot water is run through the machine under high pressure, and out pours the fresh coffee. When it’s done the machine dumps the used coffee into a side container that you can empty and clean later. You can adjust the settings for the fineness or coarseness of the grind, the amount of beans it grinds, and also how much liquid it dispenses through to your cup. You can even steam and froth hot milk so you can make a Latte. I loved this little machine and often wondered how I ever managed without it. Drip coffee just wasn’t the same anymore.
While the coffee machine was doing its thing, I went over to the refrigerator, removed the extremely large pot of chicken goulash, scooped out some into a smaller pot, and placed the smaller pot on the oven to warm up. It was already cooked so it only needed to be reheated and I knew it wouldn’t take long as I set it on medium high. I then returned the large commercial sized pot back into the refrigerator. Normally when I cooked something like this I made a huge batch so that I could freeze a bunch of it to use sometime in the future. It saved me time and energy in the long run.
I reached back into the refrigerator and got out some apple juice and poured it into a cup handing it over to Anatoli. He looked at it for a moment and took a sip nodding his head in approval. For some reason I’ve always had a knack for knowing what people liked never asking them but instead just prepared it and handed it over to them. Dad always scolds me and tells me I should ask first, but it seems like I’m always in motion so automatically do things without asking or thinking twice about it.
Popping back over to the refrigerator I pulled out the little container of creamer, and then grabbed the little bowl of sugar setting on the counter top as I headed back over to the little bar isle and motioned for Mrs. Markowski to take a seat. We had a little bar isle that separated the kitchen area from the dining room. With it being just Dad and myself, most of the times we ate right there instead of in the dining room. It was long enough to hold three bar stools and Mrs. Markowski now sat down on the last one on the end.
Picking up the creamer and sugar off the counter top next to the refrigerator I placed them in front of my guest, fished out a spoon, and walked over to retrieve the now piping hot cup of coffee. She was fidgeting in her chair as she poured some cream and sugar into her coffee, and I could sense she was in a bit of a hurry for some reason when I had set it down in front of her. Throughout this procedure I had been talking a mile a minute about her Uncle and just every day things. It had all taken only a minute or so, but I could sense something was on her mind.
I knew she wanted to talk, but I just had to get cleaned up. “Mrs. Markowski, if you can wait just a moment more I have to get a little cleaned up.” She started to say something but I held up my hand apologetically and said,” it won’t take but a moment, I promise, and then you can tell me what’s on your mind. I’ve been out working since early this morning and I’m all sweaty and grimy so just need to wash up a bit. I’ll be right back.” She nodded her head giving me permission and I headed back to the mud room. I could hear her saying something in a hurried tone to Anatoli, but again I couldn’t understand so continued on my way.
After getting to the mud room I started stripping out of my shirt when I noticed Anatoli had followed me back. Now it began to make sense why his mother had yelled out to him. She had wanted to tell him to stay with her, but he must have been curious so pretended not to hear and had followed me back.
I smiled at him noticing for the first time what he was wearing. Before then I had only noticed him from the neck up, weird huh? He was wearing a yellow soccer jersey and white soccer shorts with a pair of well worn sneakers. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed at the stunning creature standing in front of me. He was a fit kid, a little on the wiry side, with soft features. His loose blond curls accentuated his oval face, high cheekbones, full bright red lips, petite nose, and those big sparkling blue eyes.
While I was checking him out discretely he was stealing glances towards me as well. It was kind of awkward for him because I was stripping out of my clothes and it must have caught him off guard. He didn’t realize I was going to get cleaned up and had followed me back out of curiosity.
The blond curly haired boy turned beat red for a moment as he motioned that he was going to head back to his mother. I don’t know how much English he could understand but I spoke up saying,” it’s alright dude, you can stay. I’m not shy and won’t bite.” I waved my hand indicating it was alright so he shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the doorjamb glancing my way every once in a while as I dropped my dirty pants onto the floor. I then removed my socks, which left me in nothing more than my boxer briefs.
Most of my friends wore those loose boxers; mostly to hide their junk and help conceal their boners when one would pop for no reason at all. I preferred something that held my stuff in place and fit snuggly against my legs. I also liked how they looked on me as they seemed to accentuate my little manhood making me look a little bigger in that department. Personally, I thought I looked flattering in them with my smaller fit frame.
Sticking my head under the faucet and rinsing out my hair I could feel his eyes on me as if he were checking me out. I grabbed a rag and started to wash off most of the grime from my body. Working on the ranch kept my body lean and trim, and I was proud of how I looked. I knew I looked pretty good with a nice physique because of the comments I’ve received over the years from girls at school and some of my friends. I was a little on the smaller side from other boys my age, only barely over five feet tall and weighing in at about a hundred pounds when I’m lucky, fully dressed, and totally wet.
I’ll be fifteen in a few months, and even though I am smaller than the majority of kids my age in school, I am leaner and more fit than most of them. The work I do around the ranch keeps me strong and in shape. I was on the school wrestling team and had pretty smooth moves. Being smaller, but really strong, I went undefeated this past school year in my weight and age division winning State Championship. I have light brown hair with big round brown eyes, and soft facial features; no shaving yet and I figured probably not for many more years. Since we eat mostly organic food in our house puberty had a later start for me than most kids in my school because we didn’t eat food that was pumped full of hormones. I didn’t start developing hair around my little manhood and nut sack until I was well into my thirteenth year; as a matter of fact it was only a little before my fourteenth birthday when they started to sprout. Currently, I still had only a small patch of soft brown downy hair on my pubic mound with no hair at all under my arms. My body was smooth and hairless for the most part. Even my arms and legs were basically hairless and fairly smooth.
I wasn’t that big in the pecker department either, but some of my closest friends had mentioned on occasion that my package looked perfect on me. I was only about four inches when hard, three when soft, with a thin shaft which made my pecker look longer than it really was. The average erect penis size for a boy turning fifteen is between three and a half to six and a half inches long so I was kind of on the short end of the spectrum. I knew this because with the wonders of our technological age it is easy enough to look this type of information up in places such as a search on Google. Since I was a late bloomer I wasn’t too worried and knew that it would just take me a little longer.
Most boys tend to exaggerate their penis size when they brag to their peers. Because of all the bragging that goes on most tend to feel that they are way too small in that department; however, a little research reveals that for the most part they are pretty average.
My balls hung loosely between my legs but not really low which in retrospect would have looked weird on a smaller frame like I had if they sagged too low. All in all I think my overall appearance suited me well. I was very proud with my looks and the whole puberty thing never really bothered me. I had some pretty cool friends and never really got teased about it in a bad way. My friends joked around a little, like most typical teenagers, but it was always in good taste and never in a mean spirited kind of way.
While getting cleaned up every once in a while I would glance over at Anatoli and notice how his eyes were scanning over my fit and trim body stopping now and then to stare at my crotch area. I knew he was probably wondering what was hidden down there. Hell, he’s only a kid and I know we all at one time or another had checked out other boys just to be able to compare ourselves to them. There really wasn’t anything sexual about it, just more like it was curiosity.
I too was kind of wondering what was between his legs and started to scrutinize him closer as well. I noticed he was sporting a small boner because his clean white shorts were starting to tent out a little which began to excite me as well. Seeing him chubbed up had my own little pecker twitching in my boxer briefs. I don’t know what had gotten over me. I mean I’ve checked out guys before in the shower room after gym or at other times when the opportunity presented itself, and sometimes I would pop a boner, but most guys did from time to time. This somehow felt a little different. This time my stomach started getting these butterfly twinges and my breath would catch in my chest.
His eyes sparkled and he licked his lips as I pulled the elastic of my briefs outwards from my body and dipped my hand inside with the wet rag sponging myself clean. His face turned a scarlet red color as his blue eyes locked onto my brown eyes and he realized I had just caught him checking me out. Normally I would have dropped my boxers and changed into a clean pair, but I saw how embarrassed he was at being caught so I just removed my hand from beneath my boxer briefs and rinsed out the rag. I quickly got dressed into a clean set of clothes I had set on the shelf before heading out earlier that morning and spread out my arms.
“I clean up pretty good, huh?” I asked him as I turned around in a slow circle. He looked at me a little quizzically. He seemed to understand me a little, but wasn’t quite sure exactly what I had said and I figured it was probably more due to some of the slang versus actually not understanding English.
I tried again by simply saying “better?”
He smiled at me and nodded his head in the affirmative, “better,” he replied in a thick accent.
I chuckled and ruffled his hair as I passed him to head back towards his mother. “Let’s go see what your mom is fretting about,” I stated without looking back to see if he understood me.
After a couple of steps I realized he wasn’t following me and turned to see what was holding him up. I caught him adjusting his boner and quickly turned back around not wanting to embarrass him more, but also not before I saw the outline of his little stiff boy toy pressing up against the silky material of his white soccer shorts. That wonderful image was now burned in my memory and it was starting to affect me as I felt my own little pecker start to twitch inside my snug fitting jeans. I could feel my rapidly expanding pistol starting to press up against the fabric of my pants, but continued to walk down the hallway hoping it would soften up before reaching the kitchen.
That kid was really starting to affect me in a weird way. I had never felt this way about anyone much less one I had just met a few minutes ago. I mean it wasn’t as if I hadn’t messed around with other boys before in regards to some sex games, but that had been different. That had been more along the lines of discovering our budding manliness and learning about our sexuality. I’ve had jacking sessions with some of my friends and it had been exciting watching them get all sexed up. At times we all had helped each other out as well when we touched one another. Those times had been a wonderful experience, but I had moved on from those types of experiences to different ones when I started dating some of the girls in my school. Now, when I looked at Anatoli my feelings seemed to be at a more heightened state than at any one of my previous experiences, including those with girls.
I shook my head trying to clear these thoughts from my mind. Then another thought struck me. I had recently broken up with my latest girlfriend a couple of months ago. Before our breakup our relationship had progressed to the state of a lot of petting and oral sex which was very stimulating to say the least. However, since my breakup, the closest sexual relationship I was having had been with my right hand. Maybe, it was just my hormones going all catty wonkers on me for the lack of good sexual companionship. That must be it I thought to myself and started feeling a little better about everything by the time I finally reached the kitchen.
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End of Chapter One
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