Boy Power House
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,438
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,438
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral & anal sex between men and young boys. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 15 Start of Part II
©2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Part II
Chapter 15
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Grand Central Station
Mark is still tired as Metro North pulls out at 3:10 PM. As usual, he spent most of the day sleeping in the basement of the empty store where he's been squatting for eight months. It's a dreary existence for a thirteen-year old boy, spending the evening wandering the city looking for handouts and the night foraging through dumpsters behind restaurants for food. He figures he is already pretty savvy about surviving on the streets.
But today is the second Tuesday of September, and Tuesday is the one bright light in Mark's otherwise dark week. That's when he gets to use the Metro Card Victor gave him to take the train north to see his pal, his man friend, his lover.
He begins to nod off, noticing that the mood of the other passengers today is oddly subdued. Everyone is talking, but only in hushed tones. Mark welcomes the opportunity to catch a few more Z's.
He is awakened by a voice shouting "Patterson!" He smiles his gratitude to the conductor who over the months has learned this is the adolescent's stop. The man could hardly not notice the cute, dark-haired boy who took his train every week, not notice his torn jeans, his dirty sneakers, his lack of backpack, his faint bathless aroma, his big innocent eyes. Not the typical visitor to this upscale section of Putnam County.
Victor isn't at the station to meet Mark this time. But that's not unusual. He's been there on cold wintry days and when it was raining. But today is bright and clear and Mark doesn't mind walking the 1 1/2 miles to the big house. As he heads off down Route 311, and makes the familiar turns, he is walking slightly more briskly than other weeks. Last Tuesday Victor was in San Francisco on business, so it's been two weeks since they've slept together. But Victor flew into LaGuardia this morning, at least according to his schedule. Mark plans to ask him about his flight, ask him about SF, but most of all ask if Victor missed Mark as much as Mark missed him. He already knows the answer.
Mark goes to the front door and knocks. No answer. Victor must be in the shower. Mark imagines the fragrant cologne Victor uses. Or maybe he was tired from traveling and lay down and fell asleep. Mark smiles. Won't Victor be happy to wake up and find his lover boy lying naked beside him? Mark goes to the side door, which he knows will be unlocked, and lets himself in. He calls, "Victor, where are you?" but not too loudly in case he is asleep. Mark is wide awake now, bright eyed and ready for some action. He begins to hunt. He's not in the living room. Not in his office. Nowhere on the first floor. Mark climbs the stairs and tiptoes to the bedroom where he expects to see this beautiful man. The bedroom where he has experienced the most intense, most awesome feelings of his young life. Mark feels his teenage cock stiffening in his jeans. After a two-week hiatus, he is so horny.
But Victor isn't there either. Nor in the shower. Mark calls loudly now but there is no response. This is the first time he has been alone in this huge home. He knows Victor's wife won't be around. She has her girls night out every Tuesday, shopping in the city, then seeing a Broadway show, staying in a hotel, and returning home late Wednesday morning, long after Victor has showered with Mark, cooked him some pancakes for breakfast, and driven him back to the city, letting him out on the streets before going to his office. But first, they always have a long, lingering kiss. Then Victor tells him how he'll be counting the days 'til next Tuesday, slips him a few dollars, and says, "Goodbye, Sweetheart." If it weren't for his wife's love of the Great White Way, Mark wouldn't be able to have this weekly private time with the man he loves.
Mark figures there's nothing else to do but wait. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a sandwich, but brings it and a can of soda back upstairs to the bedroom. The room where every week he feels what true love is. He thinks about their weekly trysts. It is always so romantic; Victor has soft music playing and incense burning. Once when Mark asked him why he didn't turn the lights off or at least dim them, Victor said he wanted to see the boy he loved, wanted to see his beautiful smile, his beautiful chest, his beautiful ass. Mark doesn't mind; he too enjoys looking at his lover's strong, handsome, masculine physique. He imagines Victor making love to his wife on this bed. Does he play the music and burn the incense then? Does he leave the light on so he can look at her warm face, her beautiful tits, her inviting cunt? Mark has never seen the wife and has no way of picturing what she looks like. Victor doesn't have a picture of her on the night stand, or on his desk, or anywhere in the house. But Victor must still love her; otherwise, he would get a divorce and then Mark can move in full time and he and Victor can fuck every night of the week! Mark allows himself these fantasies even though Victor has given him no reason for such hope.
He finishes his sandwich and is getting restless. He starts downstairs when the phone rings. He runs into the office and picks it up. "Victor?" Immediately he catches himself. What if it's the wife? What's he going to say? With great relief, he hears his lover's voice.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Part II
Chapter 15
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Grand Central Station
Mark is still tired as Metro North pulls out at 3:10 PM. As usual, he spent most of the day sleeping in the basement of the empty store where he's been squatting for eight months. It's a dreary existence for a thirteen-year old boy, spending the evening wandering the city looking for handouts and the night foraging through dumpsters behind restaurants for food. He figures he is already pretty savvy about surviving on the streets.
But today is the second Tuesday of September, and Tuesday is the one bright light in Mark's otherwise dark week. That's when he gets to use the Metro Card Victor gave him to take the train north to see his pal, his man friend, his lover.
He begins to nod off, noticing that the mood of the other passengers today is oddly subdued. Everyone is talking, but only in hushed tones. Mark welcomes the opportunity to catch a few more Z's.
He is awakened by a voice shouting "Patterson!" He smiles his gratitude to the conductor who over the months has learned this is the adolescent's stop. The man could hardly not notice the cute, dark-haired boy who took his train every week, not notice his torn jeans, his dirty sneakers, his lack of backpack, his faint bathless aroma, his big innocent eyes. Not the typical visitor to this upscale section of Putnam County.
Victor isn't at the station to meet Mark this time. But that's not unusual. He's been there on cold wintry days and when it was raining. But today is bright and clear and Mark doesn't mind walking the 1 1/2 miles to the big house. As he heads off down Route 311, and makes the familiar turns, he is walking slightly more briskly than other weeks. Last Tuesday Victor was in San Francisco on business, so it's been two weeks since they've slept together. But Victor flew into LaGuardia this morning, at least according to his schedule. Mark plans to ask him about his flight, ask him about SF, but most of all ask if Victor missed Mark as much as Mark missed him. He already knows the answer.
Mark goes to the front door and knocks. No answer. Victor must be in the shower. Mark imagines the fragrant cologne Victor uses. Or maybe he was tired from traveling and lay down and fell asleep. Mark smiles. Won't Victor be happy to wake up and find his lover boy lying naked beside him? Mark goes to the side door, which he knows will be unlocked, and lets himself in. He calls, "Victor, where are you?" but not too loudly in case he is asleep. Mark is wide awake now, bright eyed and ready for some action. He begins to hunt. He's not in the living room. Not in his office. Nowhere on the first floor. Mark climbs the stairs and tiptoes to the bedroom where he expects to see this beautiful man. The bedroom where he has experienced the most intense, most awesome feelings of his young life. Mark feels his teenage cock stiffening in his jeans. After a two-week hiatus, he is so horny.
But Victor isn't there either. Nor in the shower. Mark calls loudly now but there is no response. This is the first time he has been alone in this huge home. He knows Victor's wife won't be around. She has her girls night out every Tuesday, shopping in the city, then seeing a Broadway show, staying in a hotel, and returning home late Wednesday morning, long after Victor has showered with Mark, cooked him some pancakes for breakfast, and driven him back to the city, letting him out on the streets before going to his office. But first, they always have a long, lingering kiss. Then Victor tells him how he'll be counting the days 'til next Tuesday, slips him a few dollars, and says, "Goodbye, Sweetheart." If it weren't for his wife's love of the Great White Way, Mark wouldn't be able to have this weekly private time with the man he loves.
Mark figures there's nothing else to do but wait. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a sandwich, but brings it and a can of soda back upstairs to the bedroom. The room where every week he feels what true love is. He thinks about their weekly trysts. It is always so romantic; Victor has soft music playing and incense burning. Once when Mark asked him why he didn't turn the lights off or at least dim them, Victor said he wanted to see the boy he loved, wanted to see his beautiful smile, his beautiful chest, his beautiful ass. Mark doesn't mind; he too enjoys looking at his lover's strong, handsome, masculine physique. He imagines Victor making love to his wife on this bed. Does he play the music and burn the incense then? Does he leave the light on so he can look at her warm face, her beautiful tits, her inviting cunt? Mark has never seen the wife and has no way of picturing what she looks like. Victor doesn't have a picture of her on the night stand, or on his desk, or anywhere in the house. But Victor must still love her; otherwise, he would get a divorce and then Mark can move in full time and he and Victor can fuck every night of the week! Mark allows himself these fantasies even though Victor has given him no reason for such hope.
He finishes his sandwich and is getting restless. He starts downstairs when the phone rings. He runs into the office and picks it up. "Victor?" Immediately he catches himself. What if it's the wife? What's he going to say? With great relief, he hears his lover's voice.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.