Subject: Fishing Trip with My Nephew This is a true life experience; a story about a man (me) who discovers that his muscle-stud nephew is gay. iAll legal disclaimers apply. If this topic offends you, do not read any further; and ask yourself why you are at this site. If you are under the age of 18 (21 in some areas) and too young to be reading such material or if you are in a locale or country where it is not legal to read such material then please leave immediately and come back when it is legal for you to do so. We’ll be glad to have you back. If you meet the criteria then read on, enjoy, and kindly let me know what you think. On the sites that provide for you to rate the stories or leave comments, I value your thoughts and opinion; I would also like to hear from you personally. Personal stories and accounts of your own similar experiences are always welcome. Contact me at ive. **The Fishing Trip With My Nephew The Fishing Trip With My Nephew Note; this is not particularly well-written; I have not devoted time and effort to descriptions and dialogue as you might find in one of my stories on Nifty, but it wasn’t originally intended as a story to be posted for general public consumption, but more a narrative of events. I’ve “created” some of the dialogue as I remember it. I have a nephew on my wife’s side who I thought might be gay. Thought so for a while. He was just 18, graduated, a gifted athlete, hell of a baseball player….in fact he has a baseball scholarship; he was a great looking kid, great personality, and BUILT. And he had a very refreshing, straightforward way about him. About three years before, when he was fifteen, he was definitely into girls and being very picky about his appearance and conscious of his body; I was in top body-builder shape at the time and he started asking questions about working out and putting on muscle. We talked and I told him I would make up a workout manual for him. I made up workout routines for every body part, complete with pictures, and put them in a notebook. I also made a workout log that I made him promise to keep so he/we could track his progress. I wrote down the supplements he might start taking; but ONLY those supplements, and told him not to take anything else. I also made up menus and told him to eat five meals a day, not to gorge down three. I told him to have a picture taken of himself before he started on the routines I’d made up for him, and I told him to work out in shorts, not baggies or sweats. Just shorts and no shirt so he could watch the muscles as he worked them. Also made him promise to keep his workout log faithfully, every set, every rep, with the poundage, and set a goal for him to do at least “one more rep.” Told him to make sure he got plenty of sleep because muscles don’t grow when you’re working out….muscle grows when you sleep. There was also a place to record how he felt, his mood, etc. I called him occasionally to encourage him and check on his progress and he was proud to read me some of the entries in his workout log. He likes to go fishing (his Dad doesn’t). I wasn’t a diehard fisherman but I liked to go sometimes to just to get away to the quiet of nature. He liked the outdoors and liked to go camping (his dad doesn’t). He liked to shoot (his dad wouldn’t lay a hand on a gun). I was a hunter when I was younger but in my later years I lost the desire to kill things but I still liked to shoot. We went fishing a couple of weeks ago. He drove up in a Jeep his parents had given him for graduation. I walked out and saw it, gave him the finger then started slapping him around. He didn’t lift a hand to defend himself, just reared back with surprised laughter, “What? What’d I do? I just got here.” “What’d you do,” I scoffed. “You know fuckin’ well what you did. I’ve wanted a Jeep all my life and you, a punk kid, drive up in one.” “I’m not a punk,” he said. “You are now.” We went into the house laughing. He tried to act like he felt bad and told me I could drive it. He had on shorts; beautiful thighs, by the way. He was making greast progress with his workouts…..results were showing. I asked him if he had jeans, he said he brought jeans because he didn’t know where we would be going. I told him to change, `cause where we were going he would need protection for those beautiful legs going through the weeds and bushes. There would be no path. Actually, we were going several places that I had in mind to make it an all day trip. He let me drive. Not exactly. I’d already made up my mind I was doing the driving before he offered. We were getting in and he asked me if I knew how to drive it. I gave him a COLD deadpan stare and said, “Son, I was driving Jeeps before you were even a gleam in your daddy’s eye.” He said, “Oh, that’s right, you were in the Army.” “Uhhhh……yeah.” I should say he’s not what I call my favorite nephew, only because the two little ones hold that position jointly, but he’s next in line. We’ve always gotten along great and we have fun together, like fishing and at ballgames. And I’ve seen him play ball on several occasions, and I buy him neat things for Christmas, things that others don’t and don’t think are important. Like necklaces, and good smelling body splash… entice the girls. It was early morning and we headed out to a 15,000-acre state park a few miles away. His tackle and tackle box hadn’t seen near the wear that mine had, and he had a pretty fancy pole. He had lures and stuff that I’ve never used, or even seen before…..expensive ones. My tackle and pole is old and functional and serves me well. My FISHING pole, that is…… We had a pretty good catch of fish at the first spot, but the time together was the real catch. Afterwards we headed back and ate lunch at a cruddy little diner that I frequent, and he thought was neat, then we headed for another place (private property, that I have permission to use) where there is a thick woods with a deep, slow moving creek that’s known for blue gill, walleye, striped bass, as well as catfish (but I had another spot in mind for catfish). We waded through the bush and weeds chest high to get to the place. He voiced doubt that it would be worth it. But turned out it was, and going back it wasn’t so bad, following our own path. He was glad he wore jeans. I joked that his girlfriend would be glad too, that he hadn’t scratched up his legs. Third part of the plan was to go to a place I knew down by the river and catch some channel cat. I’ve always had better luck catching catfish in the cool of the evening or at night. Catfish are scavengers, bottom feeders, trolling the bottom of the river. They will come up when attracted by something like a lure; I guess that’s why they call them lures. It’s sometimes difficult to land catfish because they tend to hang around the riverbank in the tangle of the exposed tree roots underwater. I’ve lost a lot of hook, line and sinkers fishing for catfish. I don’t use lures…I buy live bait; it’s the country boy in me, when I used to dig my own fish worms (and raise them) and go out after a rain and pick up night crawlers. The place was easier to get to than the other place so Lucas wasn’t turned off by it; he’s not a country boy. Positioning ourselves along the creek, I sat up a ways from him on the slope of the creek bank so I could watch him…..his impressive, heavily muscled shoulders with bowling ball muscles out at the sides, thick neck with his hair so neatly trimmed in back, almost high and tight like the military, and his big arms sticking out of his shirtsleeves as he held the pole. Yeah, he was nice eye candy. Fishing is an opportunity to talk and get to know somebody. Men go to their graves with secrets they’ve exchanged while fishing. Lucas and I talked a lot about sports….always about sports….even though I’m not a huge sports fan, he knew I watched baseball and football, but he didn’t know I watched it more for the guys and the uniforms than the sport itself. I don’t have much time for basketball. I like especially like watching rugby; but again for the guys and their thighs. And we talked about girls, of course. He was slow to talk at first, because of our age difference I think, and he wasn’t sure just how much he should tell; and I think he might’ve been afraid of what I might tell his parents, but after he became more comfortable with me, he gradually began to open up, and talking about girls almost always leads to talking about sex with girls, especially between two guys sitting along the river back, fishing, regardless of the age difference. And I assured him that nothing of our conversations would reach his parents ears unless HE told them. I point blank asked him if he had a sex life and he said yes, without the slightest hesitation, but then qualified his answer with a shy grin and “Well, I don’t know if you’d call it a sex life but I’m not a virgin.” I asked him how many. He said several, but don’t tell my folks. I asked him the follow up question…..Safe Sex?…..he knew I was serious. He said mostly. I told him that was mostly smart, but a lot dumb. We didn’t get into the details of his sex life. We talked about college and money for college. He had the scholarship but said it wouldn’t pay for everything. He had some money saved and was saving more from his job, and his parents had a college fund that they’d started years before. Then he said that if he needed extra money he could always be a sperm donor! I laughed “What?” (Where the fuck did that come from?) I laughed so hard I choked. He thought it was funny that I was laughing so hard and he started laughing too. I said, “I’m not sure I heard that right, but don’t say it again, I’ll choke to death.” Note: You’re supposed to be quiet when fishing. I stayed on the subject of sperm donor; I wanted to see where the heck it had come from. “Does your mom and dad know about this idea of yours to make extra spending money?” I asked, still laughing. “NO, and you can’t tell them.” “You know I wouldn’t do that. You’re an adult. Even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t tell them. At eighteen you have a right to your privacy, and I have no right to violate that privacy. So let’s get that straight. Anything and everything we talk about stays between us. And that means everything WE talk about. I expect the same promise of confidentiality from you.” “You got it.” “This sperm donor thing…..You’re not serious anyway,” I gaziantep travesti said. “Are you?” Our conversation went something like this……….. “Not really,” he scoffed. “But it’s out there as an option,” he added, sort of perking up. “I know guys, well, one guy actually, who’s doing it. Personally, I don’t know if it would be worth it. They have some pretty strict rules.” I asked him what the guy was being paid. “He says he gets fifty bucks a pop. They pay anywhere from a few bucks, sometimes as much as $200 a week for three visits and I read of one place out east that pays $600 a week for three visits.” “Oh, you’ve read up on it, then,” I said. “Yeah. Just curious. Sometimes you have to sign a contract. I know one thing, I’m not giving up sex, or even jacking off or a lousy few bucks. Not even thirty five or fifty dollars, unless it happened to fit into my schedule for sex that week.” But he said he would consider giving up sex for two hundred or six hundred. He went on…”one place in Europe pays up to $1000 a shot but that’s a one on one deal, where a couple picks you specifically as a donor. And that’s after a physical profile and a lot of tests, and you have to give several samples first before you go back for the big bang.” I was smiling the whole time he was talking. The kid had actually done research! A LOT of research, I thought, for someone who wasn’t considering doing it. “It’s not like you can just walk in and jack off a load for beer or gas money. You have to be registered, and in fact, only about 5% of prospective donors are even accepted. You can’t have AIDS or test positive for HIV–that’s a no brainer–you can’t ever have had hepatitis….don’t know about mono. Never taken drugs, and in some states, gays can’t be sperm donors, period, or even if you’ve ever had any homosexual activity, although I don’t know how they would know that.” I laughed. “Hell, no wonder 95% of all donors are rejected. That restriction, homosexual activity, probably eliminates more guys than all the other restrictions combined. Do they really and truly expect to find that many guys who have never messed around with other boys, like their brothers, when they were kids? Hell, surely that can’t be classified as homosexual activity.” “Well I never had a brother,” he said. “How about friends?” I asked. I didn’t think he was expecting that sudden twist in the conversation. But he didn’t flinch with his answer. “Okay, I admit, me and another kid messed around in sixth grade. We showed each other our cocks on a dare to see who was biggest.” “Who won?” “I did.” “Just that one time?” I asked. “No, we did it several times after that. Not a lot, but sometimes, when we had the opportunity. He always brought it up, I never did,” he was quick to point out. “He always said he wanted to see if he’d caught up with me.” “Did he?” “No, still hasn’t,” he said. “Oh? You sound very sure of that,” I said with a sly grin. “I see him in the locker room,” he said with a shrug. “But we were talking about sperm donors,” he added, as if to get off the subject of him and his friend. “Well, you’ve obviously done your research,” I said. “But how exactly, I mean the process….I know about artificial insemination of animals, and gathering sperm from bulls or stallions…I’ve done that….but I never gave much thought to the process for guys.” “This guy told me you go into a little room, the jack off-room, he called it. They even have porn, magazines and videos if you want. You jack off and shoot your load in a sterile container.” “Wow, just like at home in your room except you don’t shoot it in your sock,” I joked. “And when did you guys stop, and why?” I asked. “Huh?” “We were talking about you and your friend jacking off together.” “Oh.” He looked a little embarrassed that I’d brought it up again but again, he didn’t flinch. “I stopped when I was able to shoot. I figured I was too old to be messing around like that and comparing cocks.” “But you’ve been doing it ever since,” I said. He scowled at me. “No, Why do say that?” “Lucas……” I paused so the silence would get his attention and he would look at me. “You look me in the eye and tell me you don’t nor have ever checked out other guys in the locker room and showers.” He didn’t blink. “Oh, yeah, that. But not like hardons. Everybody does that, but it’s not like I’m comparing.” “You lie,” I said, laughing. “You’re checking out the competition.” He turned red, which he is prone to do in these situations. It’s a trait I’ve always loved about him. He embarrasses easy, but that doesn’t stop him from being very open and straightforward about how he says things. “Hey, watch my pole, will you, I gotta take a piss.” He said it as he was handing me his fishing pole and he reached down and groped the front of his shorts at the same time. I figured he was trying to worm out of the conversation. I laughed as I took his pole. “Damn, you had me worried there for a minute. You grabbed yourself when you said that, I was wondering which pole you were wanting me to hold.” He got a big laugh out of that. He got up and went up the bank a couple of yards. It was interesting that he didn’t turn his back to me to undo his jeans. He didn’t face me either; it wasn’t at all like he was flaunting himself, or being suggestive or anything. It was like that’s where he just happened to plant his feet comfortably on the slope of the creek bank and that’s where he was gonna take a piss. He undid his fly completely, reached in and hauled everything out, balls included and tucked the waistband of his briefs under them. It was done so casually that I didn’t take anything from it; I was sure that’s how he took a piss all the time, even at a urinal. But he was in full view and I naturally looked. “Bet you don’t have any trouble finding somebody to hold that pole for you,” I said. I wondered if he noted I didn’t say “finding a girl.” “I do all right, I guess.” Still it was nothing except the perfectly normal and natural act of answering nature’s call. I happened to glance up again when he was putting everything back, and he joked, “Checking out the competition?” as he was buttoning his jeans. “I could give you a run for your money,” I said smartly. He laughed. He came back to sit in the same spot and take over his fishing pole. “Did I catch anything?” “Not unless you caught poison ivy up there with that other pole hanging out,” I joked. “By the way, when we get back to the house, you need to wash up good, or even take a shower. If you accidentally touched poison ivy or poison oak you can spread it to your cock.” We talked and bantered about; nothing sexual in that regard, but the conversation did venture into his personal life–and sexual encounters–at my gentle prodding and tugging of course. He told me about him and a teammate, when they were playing on a traveling team, in another city. The team traveled by car since most of their families went to see the games. His parents took both vehicles, taking several other players with them. I guess there were a couple of girls at the ballpark watching them play and they were cheering the guys out….and he suddenly realized they were yelling out his number. The guys were giving him shit about it in the dugout. Without being obvious to his coaches or his parents, he located the girls in the bleachers and made what he hoped was eye contact. He told his buddy his plan and asked him if he was up for it. Well, hell yes! After the games–the second one was an evening game–he finagled one of the vehicles out of his parents and arranged with the other players who rode with them to catch rides with somebody else…..all except his buddy. He told his teammates what he had in mind–for the two of them to try to pick up some girls–and the rest of the boys went along with it of course. Well, the cars and the fans gradually cleared out, including the girls, apparently, because the boys hung back and they couldn’t be found. Well, they had the vehicle so they decided to leave and go cruising around. Driving down the street leading back into the town from the ballpark, there were the two girls, on foot. They pulled over and it didn’t take much to get them into their car. They drove around for a little bit and got acquainted then drove out to a place that the girls knew. He fucked one in the front seat while his buddy fucked the other one in the back seat. After a short recuperation period the buddy’s girl said she thought they should trade places to “see how each one plays their position.” So they switched places and he fucked the other girl. I asked him if it was one of the smart times or the dumb times. He got red in the face. “I see, since there were no condoms in the glove compartment and I assume you don’t carry condoms in your cup, they were both bareback rides,” I said, dryly. He sort of cringed, like he’d been nailed and I think he was a bit taken aback that that’s what I came up with after he’d told me about their conquests. “Yeah, they were bareback.” “You ever hear of Walgreen’s, CVS, hell, any grocery store carries condoms.” He was looking guilty now. “Yeah, but I didn’t wanta ruin the mood.” “Dude, the girls got in your car with you, even told you where to go….you don’t think they would’ve had a clue if you’d stopped at a drug store on the way? Hell, you should’ve point black asked them, where’s the nearest drug store.” “I know.” “Both of you guys fucked both of those girls bareback, girls that you just met, didn’t you wonder even for a minute, how many other guys had probably done the same thing? You don’t have to answer that. You’re a big boy……start acting like it. You gotta take responsibility for your life, son.” “Yeah, I know.” “Sorry if I sound like your dad, but if I sound pissed and disgusted, that’s because I am. Geezuss, Lucas, you’re a smart kid, but you’re acting like a dumb jock when you tuck your brains inside your cup?” “I promise it won’t happen again.” He was defensive. “And that promise will last till you find yourself in the back seat of a car with a girl and…..ooops…..forgot to stuff a condom in my cup.” “No,” he said shaking his head. “If I find myself in any situation like that, I’m gonna remember what you told me.” “What’d I tell you?” He repeated it. “You’re a big boy,……start acting like it. You gotta take responsibility for your life, son. Believe me, I’m gonna gaziantep masaj salonları remember that.” “Good, but you gotta remember it BEFORE…..BEFORE you find yourself in the situation. Once you’re in the situation, you start thinking with your balls, and your balls don’t have a memory, and your cock takes orders from your balls.” He laughed. “I will remember.” “Okay.” “You got a bite,” he said, nodding to my line. I brought the fish in. Sucker had to weigh over four pounds. “You didn’t sound like my dad, by the way. My dad would never have talked to me about anything like that.” “You dad never told you about condoms?” “No. I got the talk when I was younger, but it was pretty general; pretty confusing in fact.” “I hope I didn’t confuse you,” I said. “No, sir, there wasn’t anything confusing about what you said,” he said emphatically. “You know, it’s good to be able to talk to somebody like this.” We had a great day, even cleaning the fish, a smelly job. I had purchased a new fillet knife I wanted to try out and I’d bought one for him. He was pleased with it but ended up with several minor cuts on his hand and fingers. We wrapped the fish and put them in my freezer to cool down, except for those we used for our own fish fry. He left the heads on three of them to gross out his mom and sister. I would send most of the fish home with him, packed in a cooler of ice. I cooked the fish in oil and a corn meal batter. It was greasy but it’s the only way to cook fresh fish. While we ate, we planned the camping trip that we had talked about casually before. When we were cleaning up the mess, we went back to the camping trip. He was anxious; I told him I could go anytime he was freed up. I told him to invite his dad to come along. He laughed and said that’d be the day. I told him to ask him anyway. “And don’t say it like, I know you won’t go but I’m asking you anyway. Ask him like you really want him to go.” It was getting a little late and he said he was tired and he smelled like fish and he was dreading the drive back; in general sounding like he didn’t want to leave. I told him he could spend the night if he wanted to but he needed to shower anyway. He said that would be great but he didn’t have any extra clothes. I told him we could throw all his clothes in the washer. He called his parents and told/asked if he could stay the night; they said yes without hesitation. Quite honestly, up till this point there was not anything explicitly sexual in my thoughts; we’d just been having a good time together as uncle and nephew. Of course there was the eye candy and admittedly, a tiny spark that lay in the back of my mind from when he first started maturing out of gangly boyhood….but it had remained a spark, and in the back of my mind. Now, the spark was flickering. Not with any great hope of anything actually happening–at least not yet–but I couldn’t help considering the possibilities sometime in the future, and therefore found this an opportunity to lay the groundwork. I told him to pull his Jeep in the garage and while he was doing that I went back to the guest bathroom and removed the towels. (always thinking). He came in and I told him he could go into the laundry room and take off his clothes; the bathroom and shower were right next door. I went into the bedroom for an appropriate amount of time, giving him time to get out of his clothes, then went into the laundry room to start the washer. Oh, My Goddd! My timing was perfect! He was standing with his back to me, putting his clothes in the washer. I didn’t know where to start looking. I focused on his butt first; had a hard time keeping my hands to myself. Two round, tight muscle globes set on lean hips, giving way sharply to a pair of long, muscular thighs with just enough sun-bleached hair to make them look manly. His body flared up and out from his hips to impressively broad, well muscled shoulders. Fuck, he was almost beautiful. “I’ll do that, you can go ahead and shower,” I told him. He turned around and it was another Ohhh, MY GODD moment. I actually swallowed loud enough that he might have heard me gulp. Those shoulders again, balled with muscle, and thick, well developed pecs that you could just about cover with your hands–nice nipples–and abs that I would kill for….a six pack, working on eight. The front of his thighs were sculptured, and appropriately so to frame such an impressive hunk of manhood. Nice balls, held high in their sac, peeking out around his thick cock. He wasn’t huge, just damned impressive. It didn’t hang down and it didn’t stick out. It seemed to rest, dangling out at an angle, like it was too thick to hang straight down. He was cut, and the doctor did a good job. Nice meaty head that flared out wider than the shaft; thick, delicious looking rim….it looked almost heavy. (Okay, the spark had flared a little more; seeing him naked had fanned the flames and I was having sexual thoughts about the guy). All this was taken in, in a matter of seconds that it took him to move past me to go to the bathroom. I didn’t think he noticed the way I looked at him. I heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. I stood at the washer, gripping the edge to get a hold on myself. Fuck, I was going to have this teenage stud alone in my house all night! Well, that would be the extent of it, I vowed. He would be in my house, but not in my bed…..and me not in his bed. I started the washer and decided to put my clothes in with his; I smelled like fish, too. I stripped down and tossed everything in and waited for him to call for towels. He was quite a while in the shower. But finally…… “Hey…..I don’t have a towel!” I grabbed towels from the linen closet and went into the bathroom. “I didn’t think I should use these fancy ones,” he said, indicating the “show towels” as I called them. He was standing in the tub with the curtain back, his tanned, muscular body glistening with water droplets. “Sorry. Here,” I said, handing him one towel and laying the other one the shelf. “Hey, looks like the workout routines I made up for you worked,” I said, openly eyeing his muscular body. “Yeah.” He seemed a bit embarrassed by the compliment. He barely noticed, it seemed, that I was naked. He simply moved to the side and stepped out of the shower so I could get in. “Where’d you get that tan?” I asked as I looked him over. “I’m at the pool every chance I get,” he said. “The suit you wear must be a real attention getter; obviously not muh to it,” I pointed out, referring to the narrow pale strip around his middle. “My girlfriend bought it for me,” he said, looking a little sheepishly. “Obviously easy to get into,” I said. “Or out of,” I added. “I was going to ask if it’s okay to sleep like this, but I don’t have any choice; all my clothes are in the washer,” he said. I told him he could sleep any way he liked, and pointed out that his bedroom was right across the hall. “I can’t sleep like this at home, because of my sister,” he said. I told him he should tell his sister to stay out of his room, but he said it was his Dad’s rule. “I’ll say goodnight; I think I’ll hit the sack,” he said. “Sleep tight.” I didn’t jack off but I wanted to. Don’t ask me why I didn’t. As I was drying off I opened the door to let the steam out of the bathroom and saw that he hadn’t closed the bedroom door. Couldn’t read anything into it; I just figured he would close the door. I had a mischievous idea then. I came out of the bathroom and got a hand towel out of the linen closet and went into his room. He was lying on his back with the sheet up to his hips, his arms up over his head. “Hey, today was great,” he said. “Yeah, it was,’ I agreed. I tossed him the towel. He snatched it out of the air and asked, “What’s this for?” “I don’t want you messing up the sheets,” I said. He laughed and threw the towel back at me. I let it drop to the floor and left it there. I wanted to convey the message that it really was okay to use it. I was glad I was tired enough that I went to sleep pretty fast so I didn’t lay awake in misery, thinking about the young hunk sleeping naked in the next room…..and likely jacking off. Next morning when I got up to go to the bathroom, going by his door, I noticed the hand towel wasn’t on the floor where he’d tossed it. No shit! The little fucker had jacked off?? I couldn’t believe it! I didn’t flush the toilette so I wouldn’t wake him up. Coming out of the bathroom I peered into his bedroom. Still another OMG moment. A very long OMG moment. He was sprawled out on his back, the sheet down around his calves, sleeping like a baby…..with a hardon! Shit!! I said his cock had potential…he was at his full potential. Godd, it looked like it was a good eight inches long, and as thick as hell. I said the head looked heavy hanging, it was monstrous in its swollen state. I moved closer to the bed for a better look, where I could watch it throb and when it did, it quivered up over his stomach, covering his navel. I wondered how the hell he was able to sleep with that going on down there. But he was snoring softly. Then I saw the towel. It was laying wadded up at his hip! He had jacked off in it! Talk about balls! But like I said, he was pretty open and straightforward about things; and I had given him an open invitation. Standing watching the young jock in all his naked, excited glory was a real test of will and restraint. My palms were itching to take hold of his beautiful cock and my mouth was watering. But I refrained from touching him. Instead I left the room, but I took the towel with me. Let him wonder where it went. I went back in the bathroom and made enough noise to wake him up. He appeared at the bedroom door across from me with one hand over his cock, pressing it against his stomach. I supposed he was wondering why I was using the guest bathroom instead of the master bath off my bedroom. “I’ll get out of your way here in just a minute,” I told him. He waited in the doorway till I left the bathroom. I chuckled and said, “Good luck with that,” I said, nodding to his manhood. I came back with a new toothbrush for him to use and he was still standing at the stool, pushing his cock down to aim it and trying to piss. I laughed and reached over and turned the water on. “Sometimes that helps,” I said. “How do you like your eggs?” “Fried hard.” I laughed, looking right at his gaziantep escort bayan cock and said, “Why doesn’t that surprise me; you like everything hard?” Having embarrassed him again I said, “Okay, I’ll go start breakfast.” “I don’t suppose I have any clothes to put on,” he called out after me. “Oh, shit, thanks for reminding me. I forgot all about putting them in the dryer.” I could’ve offered him a pair of shorts but chose not to, and I didn’t put any on either. I wanted the boy naked for as long as I could have him that way. I had breakfast under way by the time he came out to the kitchen, wearing a towel around his waist. I was surprised, since I was naked. “What’s with the towel? I didn’t hear the shower running.” “I thought I should wear something, to eat breakfast,” he said. “You don’t have to on my account, and your sister isn’t here.” “Okay.” And he took the towel off and draped it over the back of the chair. His big cock swung majestically, still very big and rubbery. It didn’t seem to bother him to be naked, I thought he was just showing some manners with the towel. When he got too close to the stove I told him he’d better stand back so he didn’t get grease splattered on the family jewels. He laughed and said, “It’s kinda neat to run around like this.” “Yeah, you can’t do that at home,” I remarked. Wisely, it was restricted to eye candy. I even managed not to get a hardon. Part way through breakfast he brought up the hand towel. He started to say something and his face was turning red and he cut himself off. I just waited for him to go on. “I’m really embarrassed to bring this up, but I couldn’t find the towel you gave me last night.” “I took care of it,” I said. “I was going to take care of it…..rinse it out.” “No need to. And no need to be embarrassed. Do you think that’s the first cum towel to be laying around this house?” “Thanks,” he said with a sheepish look down at his plate. We didn’t dwell on the towel. We talked about his baseball, and in the back of my mind as I watched him sitting there naked, I was thinking I should send him and his fish on their way as soon as possible. He didn’t know that he wasn’t in the safest of situations, sitting there at my kitchen table, naked. I say this tongue in cheek…..he was safe. No way was I going to try anything. I made a comment on how he had bulked up and was so solid and he thanked me again for setting him up with the workout routines and the supplements. He talked about some frustrations he had with his coach and some other players; one in particular who he thought was trying to nudge him out of his spot. “How could he nudge you out of your spot? You have tryouts, don’t you? Are you saying you don’t trust the coaches to be fair?” “No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just the way the guy struts around the locker room, like such a stud. Like times when everybody else is in their shorts or jockstraps, he’s always naked.” I thought it was an odd thing for him to say about another boy in the locker room, like being naked was something out of the ordinary. “He’s always got a pain somewhere, like he gets hurt at every practice, and has to have one of the trainers take a look at it, like they baby him. Actually he is the pain, in the ass. He makes a big show about getting in the cattle tank, and he uses it for every little ache and pain. He just wants the attention.” “I assume the cattle tank is the whirlpool,” I said. “Yeah. We call it the cattle tank because it’s so big. He’s always joking, trying to get guys to get in with him. Like anybody’s going to do that. And he criticizes everybody, saying he could do it better, then tries to show that he is.” “Is he better than you?” I asked. “I don’t think he is.” “Then what’re you worrying about? You know, if I didn’t know better, Lucas, I would think you’re jealous of this guy.” “Maybe I am, a little, or I could be,” he admitted, acting a little embarrassed. “He’s always talking about taking a guy’s girl away from him.” “I wondered when a girl was going to enter the picture,” I said, smiling. “Has he made a try for your girlfriend?” “I don’t know if you would call it a try; he’s always flirting around with the girls, and any time anybody breaks up with his girl, he’s right there to take up the slack and starts dating her, then he brags that he’s doing the job the other boyfriend wasn’t doing.” “Has he done that to you?” “No. I’ve only really gone with this one girl that I’m dating now,” he said. “And you’re still dating her.” “Yeah.” “Then you must be doing the job,” I said. He shrugged and blushed and said, yeah, he guessed so. “You’ve still got your girlfriend, and you’ve got your scholarship,” I said. “I don’t understand about this guy taking your spot. I don’t know what you’re all uptight about. I think this guy is just pulling your chain.” “I don’t know…..I just don’t like the guy,” he said. “Okay, don’t like the guy, but don’t get paranoid,” I told him. “Anyway, is he going to the same college as you?” “Yeah.” “So it’s your college coach you’re talking about.” “Yes.” “Well, do your best, Lucas, that’s all anybody can expect of you. Are you still going to have your girlfriend back home?” “I hope so. She’ll be a senior.” Then I asked him, “Are you having sex with your girlfriend?” He just looked at me for a second before he answered. “Yeah. Sometimes.” “If you were afraid I would run and tell you parents, don’t be,” I said. “I told you, everything that’s said here stays here.” “Thanks. I appreciate that. It makes it easier to talk to you.” “That goes for you, too,” I said. “Everything that’s said…….” “Yeah, I know,” he said. “You are using condoms with your girlfriend.” “Yeah, except for……” “Except for what?” I asked with a scowl. “There shouldn’t be any `except fors’.” “I was gonna say, except when she gives me head,” he went on, again looking embarrassed. The kid really embarrassed easy, and I love that about him. “Okay,” I said. “Is she any good at it?” I asked, half joking. “She’s okay.” “But you’ve had better?” “No,” he said, laughing. “She’s the first and only girl to ever give me head. I meant she’s just okay; she has a little problem with her teeth, and she’s not too keen on swallowing, or even taking it in her mouth for that matter.” “From what I saw, I can see how she might have a little problem with that…..the teeth and the swallowing,” I said. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I make allowances for that… size.” “Oh. Well, swallowing swallowing isn’t necessarily a good idea these days,” I said. “I’m clean,” he said. “Do you know that? Have you been tested?” “No, but……” “Then you don’t know if you’re safe or not. Let’s see, there were those two girls after a baseball game…….” I let my words trail off, letting them sink in. He looked embarrassed again. “Get tested. Don’t let your girl get close to your cock till you’re tested.” “Where would I go to do that where the whole town wouldn’t know?” “Go to Indianapolis, to a free clinic…it won’t cost you anything, and they don’t ask questions or report back to your parents. It’s completely confidential.” He looked at me, nodding. “Boy, I couldn’t begin to have this conversation with my Dad,” he said. “He would totally freak out.” “So, you will get tested,” I said, dryly. “Yeah.” “Say that like you mean it.” “I’ll get tested,” he said, sounding a little irritated at my persistence. “Good. I want you to tell me when you do. I wanta know you did it, and I wanta know the results.” “Shit, man, the results have to be negative, there was just that one time,” he said with a scowl. I held up two fingers. “Okay, two times.” “More than that, really. You actually had sex with every other guy they ever had sex with. And if they fucked both of you guys bareback, they probably fucked the other guys bareback.” “Now you’re scaring me.” “I intend to. Get tested.” “Yes, sir, I will.” He laughed. “You know, maybe you’re not that easy to talk to after all.” “Maybe I’m not. I’m not, if you’re wanting sugar-coated answers.” We had finished eating, and as much as I liked having him around and talking to him, I thought he should be on his way home. I went to check the dryer. The jeans weren’t dry yet. I went back to the kitchen to find Lucas cleaning up. Godd, he looked great, standing at the sink with his gorgeous, tight butt sticking out. I wanted him for my houseboy. “Your jeans aren’t dry yet, but they should be by the time you get your stuff gathered up and we get you loaded,” I said. It was a gentle hint that he should be leaving. We finished cleaning up the kitchen then we got the fish out of the freezer and packed it in enough ice that would get it home safe. There was some horseplay when I rubbed an ice cube down the crack of his ass when he was bent over. Couldn’t help myself. He tried to get me back. I’m no weakling, but he’s strong as a bull and he managed to get me in a double arm hold from behind, both of those muscular arms around me and reached around and rubbed an ice cube all around my groin. I yelped and it was a natural reaction to break free, but I wished I’d stayed and played weak, with his hard, naked body pressed tightly against me and all that warm meat smashed against my butt. When I broke away, the horseplay ended and we went inside to get dressed. I dug the clothes out of the dryer and he started getting dressed right there. I handed him his tidy-whitey briefs and asked him if he could really fit everything in them. He said, “Watch me.” I watched him. It seemed like he made a show of stuffing everything in and arranging it just right then he brushed his hand down over the bulge. I said, “Barely,” and handed him his jeans. He gave me a hug when I walked him out to the garage to his Jeep and thanked me for taking him fishing. He said he would call me about the camping trip. I told him to call me about the tests first. He called me a couple of weeks later from his cell phone and told me he had been tested and he was okay. I told him to stay that way. Then I asked him if he was going to thank me. He asked, thank me for what? I said, for possibly saving your life. I think I got through to him. Anxiously awaiting the camping trip. Dear Readers: Over the years I’ve had many of you say that my stories should be published; that you would purchase them if they were. Despite the much appreciated support from readers, my venture into publishing did not turn out well. Some of the ads on Amazon offered e-stories FREE for purchasing their reader; they were giving away my work for their own benefit. And AFTER the stories were published I received their ridiculous Author’s Agreement which I refused to sign and I stopped sending them any more stories and then I put the stories back on the free sites. Pete

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