something-familiar

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Amateur

Subject: Something Familiar – 1 (gay, M/t, oral) SOMETHING FAMILIAR: by Mobius Necessary Disclaimers: * This story is fiction; none of characters represent any persons in real life and none of the events described actually happened, at least to my direct knowledge. * This fictional story depicts sexual activity between adults and youths. Do not read if this matter offends you, or because of your age or region of residence, it is illegal for you to do so. * “The Library is Open!”. Help keep the Nifty library open by donating at http://donate./donate.html * (c) 2022 Mobius Loop w/ permission for Nifty Archive Alliance. CHAPTER ONE The soft tones of my iPhone alarm started to swell in the outskirts of my consciousness, growing gently louder until I was snapped awake, my ears filled with melodic electronic notes designed by some engineering flunky at Apple. I quickly reach over and hit the silencer on the touchscreen, not willing to disturb the one still sleeping on my left. The room is once against plunged into deafening silence as I lay there on my back, shrouded in the darkness enhanced by the total blackout curtains. My master bedroom had two large windows and it used to be filled with light, but now is veiled in perpetual darkness and insulated from all outside sounds, I hear the whisp of the HVAC flowing into the room, keeping the room a pretty cool 73 degrees. I begin my wake-up check-in, a daily habit I began a few years ago and a habit which has more than once saved my life. I reflect on my body. Today, I am somewhere in my 46th year. I guess the kids today would say I have something of a dad-bod – I’m not developed or toned. I’m slightly overweight and getting a little paunchy in places, but generally in good shape. I’m 5’11 and around 240 with gray hair streaking into my usually chestnut colored hair. I’ve gained some weight because of a recent rich diet and my age, and I have a pretty unremarkable smattering of hair on my chest, back, belly and legs. Right now, I have grown a thick but neatly trimmed beard, not yet touched by the graying finger of middle age. While I’m not a remarkable looker, my nose, eyes, and cheekbones give me a friendly, disarming, and warm expression. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve always felt very plain. Taking a deep breath, I assess my state. Tired from just having woken, but not unduly weary or achy. This is what I have to be most careful about. My lifestyle can sometimes leave me exhausted and weak for days on end, crippling my ability to do my work and can put me at real risk for health complications. But not today. I feel like I’m waking up with good energy. Good. Now, the final check. I slowly slip my foot across the bed towards my left. I feel a leg beside me. Good, he’s here. Every day before I go to bed, I am terrified there will be morning when I wake up and he will be gone. Gone who knows where. While he has always expressed his devotion to me, the day is coming. Eventually it has to. In response to the gentlest contact with my foot, suddenly the body to my left rolls over towards me, and I feel the bare skin of his arm wrap across me gently yet possessively. While I am naked, can feel the fabric of a t-shirt against my shoulder and as he pulls his body up to mine, I can feel satin underwear pushing against my left hip. The feel of him is greatly comforting and I allow myself a moment of bliss just feeling him holding me. When he’s awake, he’s very careful and isn’t a very outwardly affectionate person. But here in the darkness in our bed, his subconscious reaches out for me. Suddenly his hand tightens on my right pectoral, and I hiss quietly as I feel his fingernails squeezing into my skin, wondering if I will have to start the day with scratches on my chest. In all our time together, I’ve certainly accumulated a number of scars as a result of his affection. Well, I say affection, but only he truly knows how he feels about me. I gently reach over and lift up my iPhone, and to complete the last step of my wake-up check in, open the weather app. One hour and 23 minutes until sunset. Taking a breath, I begin the process of extracting myself from his embrace. Slowly, I slip sideways off the right side of the mattress, my body falling away from his arm. I end up kneeling beside the bed as he pulls up into himself. Watching him in the extreme darkness, with only the light of my iPhone screen to illuminate the scene, I soak in his look. So beautiful, so masculine, and yet so boyish at the same time. Standing up, I pad my way softly across the carpeting to the bedroom’s doorway, slipping my way through into adjoining bathroom and closing the door. I wash my face, comb my face, and brush my teeth. I had showered before going to bed so I could save the time now. Walking through the bathroom into the walk-in closet, I start dressing. It’s going to be a warm day, so I throw on a clean red t-shirt and pair of jeans. I put on my sandals and stroll out into the hallway to the living room. I say living room when really my condominium is this massive open-floor space design. Across the comfortable but stark seating area is the kitchen, and beyond a small utility room with laundry. On the other side of the living area is the front entrance to the elevators and the parking garage. Its clean, and some would call it rather spartan. Like an image from some style magazine which appears pristine and warm but has never really been lived in. I loved my current home, but in many ways, I knew the days were numbered and soon I’d have to walk out for the last time. But today, it was just errands. First, the dry cleaners on the corner before our road connected to the main street. Then inching through the rush-hour traffic to the market about a half mile from the condominium. A lot of after-work shoppers were getting their groceries and as I plodded through the store. When I saw the lines at the check-out, I pulled my phone and looked at time. I’d be cutting it close – I didn’t like not being there when he woke up and this was taking too long. Finally, as I got my groceries and headed back to the car, I noticed the sky was getting dim. The sun was on the horizon, throwing crimsons and purples into the heavens. As I pushed my cart toward the parking lot, my eyes caught something taped to one of the columns outside the store. A Missing Persons poster with a photograph. Young woman, 19. College student from the campus a few miles down the road. She has been missing for three days. I pull my eyes back to navigating my way to the car. The world can be a hard, unfair place at times. I wished she would be found, but given the times, reality suggested she was just another face to disappear from society. About ten minutes later I am back at the condominium, stacking the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Carrying the dry-cleaning, I walk back into the closet to hang them up, and then proceed to remove my own clothes. After a moment, I am naked again and slip my way through the adjoining bathroom and into the master bedroom. Still pitch black. Silent as the grave. Was he here? Had he already gotten up? I step my way over to my side of the bed and as gently as possible, slip under the covers once again. Curling over nude in my bed, I am happy to find him still under the covers. I guess I didn’t miss him after all! In response to my weight on the mattress, I feel his body roll over and once again cuddle up to my left side. Once again, his arm reaches over and clutches at me. Once again, his hand grasps at my pec, his fingernails once again poised to pierce my skin with the slightest force of pressure. “And where were you?” his steady voice slips out in the darkness. Shit. “I just ran some of the weekly errands. Thought I would take care of it before you woke up.” “You know I get very anxious when I wake up and you aren’t here.” I feel his fingers tighten ever so slightly. My pectoral is burning under his touch. Shit, he’s broken the skin. “I know, I thought I would be back in time, but it was crazy busy at the market.” I said in a cool, calm voice, trying not to betray my anxiety or discomfort with him at my chest. “I’m sorry, Raven.” His fingers relaxed and released me, and he took a deep breath. His smooth, cool hand started rubbing gently escort izmit against my chest. “Aw, I understand, daddy.” He pressed himself up against my side again, and I could smell him. All boy, but with something more. Something … bitter. Something slightly acrid. He smelled like a storm on the horizon – that little immeasurable twinge in your nostrils telling you that chaos was coming. Having been released, I relaxed and allowed myself to enjoy his touch. Once he got out of bed he’d be all business, so I just held Raven against me, feeling him against my skin. His leg came up and curled over my body. “How was your night?” I asked, leaning over and kissing his head. “It was alright, pretty much same-ol, same-ol,” he replied quietly. “Although I did run into the Thibodaux twins at the club. Haven’t seen them in ages! I think I may actually introduce you – they’d like you.” I was slightly surprised to hear this… he had never offered to introduce me to his friends before. I wonder what this meant for things between him and me. “Mmmmm,” he moaned, and I felt him slowly humping himself against me, and I was instantly aroused. It had been a few days, but now I could feel the hardening spike tenting out his silken shorts. I so wanted to reach out and ravish him, but I knew better. He had to initiate it. If I tried to touch him first, I’d get punished. And his punishments were never easy. “I think I’m feeling…” he hissed as he grabbed my hand, guiding it to his shorts. That was my permission, and I allowed my fingers to enclosed his clothed cock. He may not have had the biggest cock I’ve ever enjoyed, but it was hard and rampant. He sighed as I made contact with him. As I slowly but eagerly molested his rigid dick through his shorts, he reached behind us to the headboard, where a small switch was installed. Flipping on the switch, a series of recessed LED lights started to glow, casting a very dim indirect light across us. Finally, I could see him once again. He had a very graceful form, on the slight side but with the beginning definition of some musculature on his chest and abs beneath the white t-shirt he still wore. About 5-foot-1 with messy black hair, I could see Raven licking his plump lips with pleasure as I aroused him. He moved his body and now knelt beside me making his crotch more open to me. I could see his cock tenting out – about six and a half inches with a nice plump head. While he was clothed right now, I knew he was uncircumcised and created a silhouette in his shorts I found amazingly arousing. I felt my own cock hardening, which for a man of my age was becoming more and more special when it happened. With a grunt, he grasped the sides of his shorts and pulled them down quickly, his hard uncut spike finally snapping free. He pulled my hand back to his bare flesh, and I let my fingers roam across the spattering of pubic hair above his throbbing tool, and then cupping his smooth, soft ball sack. I have touched Raven so many times, I didn’t even have to think about how to tantalize him. My fingertips would slip softly down his shaft until they would caress and milk at the cap of his foreskin, just barely holding back his hardening cock. I could feel precum drip from the pucker of foreskin at the tip of his dick. It told me was really in the mood today. As if he could read my thoughts in the moment, he shifted himself up and knelt beside my head, thrusting his dripping prick towards my lips. This was moving quickly for him, and I was loving his spontaneity and urgency. Turning my head to the left to meet him, I saw his pale, straining cock with his smooth hairless balls just nestled behind it. His thighs were musky and cool. And like I had probably done a hundred times before, I closed my eyes as I took him in my mouth. With a grunt, he thrust forwards, burying himself deep in me, causing me to choke. He may not have been 10 inches, but even six and a half can make you choke if it hits your throat unprepared. But he loved the choking and gasping he elicited. It ramped him up, feeling the power over me in the moment and using his dick to get me to gag. Some nights when he was feeling particularly insecure, he would try to cut off my breathing to the point I would sputter and choke on his dick, nearly passing out in the effort. Then he would rouse me before going again. One night he had forced me to pass out four times before he finally fed me his load. His cock felt like velvet against my lips, smoother than the silk shorts he had been wearing. But it was stiffer than any other dick I had even taken – not that I had so many before I met him. His precum ran like syrup as his foreskin started to retract against my tongue, gently exposing the glowing rose-colored glans, shining with pre and spit. I lapped up his pre and swallowed it hungrily, relishing his taste – so familiar, and yet so unique. Mostly salty but with a strong bitter tone. Above me, he rocked his hips, thrusting into his mouth. His eyes were closed as his head was back. Little grunts and gasps let me know he still loved my attention to this dick – even after all these years. Those moments mean so much to me, the signs here and there that he wasn’t sticking with me out of habit or convenience, but that he truly felt something between us. For moments I continued to slurp on his stiffness deeply, letting him gag me every few thrusts to make him feel in charge. In charge of me. In charge of us. But in moments, I could feel his desire building as he picked up speed plunging into my wet mouth. I slobbered and slurped, choked and gagged, and moaning the whole time he used me. “Fuuuuucckkk” he sighed as he quickly swiveled his hips around me, suddenly astride my head. His smooth cool thighs embraced my ears as he slowly leaned down across my body. I felt his urgent cock push even deeper into my throat, cutting off my air. My tongue flailed against his ballsack, his shaft rutting deep at the back of my throat. As I tried to control my panic and urgency for breath, I could feel his soft wet lips against my own erection, pointing up flat against my belly. I was larger than him – 8 inches – but he easily surrounded my head with his mouth and tongue. When he deigned to blow me, I felt as if it was a blessing from heaven – perhaps ironic in our case. His mouth provoked a tingling across my skin that drove me crazy, and drove me to deeper passion and harder orgasm. I could feel the tingling from the swipes of his tongue, evoking my dick to get even harder. I would be quaking if I didn’t fear I was about to suffocate on his prick and lose consciousness. But as he started picking up speed on my own erection, he shifted slightly closer to my groin and his prick pulled from my throat to my lips. Because of our height difference, we could not enjoy each other simultaneously. When he slurped on my shaft, I could only lick and suck on the shining glans of his uncut cock. His mouth slipped off my dick, already buzzing with electricity from his amazing oral treatment. “Fuck, Lawrence… I’m about to cum!” I knew what he was doing: he wasn’t warning me to give me the option of not swallowing his load. That was non-negotiable; I wouldn’t have a choice. No, he was warning me of what else would happen when he came, and I always needed a second to brace myself for the shock. As soon as he told me, he started thrusting harder and faster into my mouth, once again blocking my breathing. He dropped his head into my groin, nestling into the space between my thigh and my scrotum. He locked his lips onto my right thigh and I felt his tongue swipe and stroke my skin as his thrusting got faster and faster. At this point all I could do is lay there and allow him to use my body as he needed, trying to be as relaxed with my jaw as possible. Suddenly with a deep, thundering growl which shook my body and the bed, I suddenly felt my mouth being flooded. It was thick, heavy, and rich, gurgling at the base of my tongue. As I struggled to gulp it all down – to keep from drowning in it – I suddenly felt him on my leg. The pressure of his mouth and its burning tingling on my thigh created a dull ache which I felt in my ballsack. I could feel him gulping and humming in delight and pleasure, and as I eagerly swallowed izmit rus escort throb after throb of cum into my mouth, my own cock exploded. As weird and twisted as this overstimulation was, it put me over the edge and giant globs of my watery cum flew up into the air and splattered back down in my crotch and my lover’s soft black hair and milky skin. As if it had suddenly become too much, I felt Raven detach his mouth from my inner thigh, gasping as he slipped his cock from my mouth. My throat was sore as I inhaled urgently, bringing oxygen back to my lungs and edging off the light-headed feeling I had gotten. He flipped his leg over me and relaxed himself onto the sheets to the side of my thigh and hips, his softening dick going limp and wet against my cheek. When our breathing came to normal, I allowed myself to look down to see if we were going to have any problems. Sometimes when I got really intense, he had a harder time controlling himself and that could lead me to problems. He was laying there, cuddled against me, looking back to me. There was release and contentment in his dark gray eyes. His lithe, twink body cuddled up to me, still wrapped in his t-shirt as he slowly came down from his high. In the dim indirect lighting through the bedroom, strewn among the messed sheets, a smile eased across his face. His gaze was soft and loving, and in the bliss of his moment, he smiled wide. A dark crimson fluid was streaked across his lips and teeth. His hungry tongue swiped it up to taste every drop. He then lowered his face to my leg and licked again at my thigh. “Fuck, daddy,” he hummed. “Thank you for breakfast. It’s always the best!” The room lights had gotten a little brighter. Raven had turned them up so he could see carefully as he applied a gauze pad and bandage to my inner thigh. With a few strips of first aid tape, he fixed the pad down. “There, just a little bruising but you’ll be fine. It’s already stopped so you can probably take this off before you go to sleep in the morning,” he said in his low voice. There was a lightness in his tone, something musical in these moments when he was feeling all content that made me wish we could just live in these moments. Just us, glowing in the after effects of our feeding time. “You okay?” he asked seriously. It was unlike him to be so overtly concerned about me, and it warmed my heart. “Of course,” I smiled at him. He smiled back at me as he lay back on the mattress, the brighter light in the room highlighting the red stains on his t-shirt. Lord, did he sleep in that mess, or was that our mess? “I just wanted to make sure… I could hear your heart beating a little faster today. Wasn’t sure if you were anxious about it.” “Not particularly,” I admitted. “I mean, we’ve done this many, many times in the past.” There was something in his eyes and while he smiled, I could tell he was concealing something. He was being strangely sentimental tonight. I wasn’t used to it, and with his character, it started to concern me. But before I could say anything, he rolled off of the bed, stretching tall as he got on his feet. Quickly, he pulled his t-shirt off and playfully threw it at me. Finally, he stood there fully naked, and I ogled his beautiful milky-white 12-year-old body. Thirteen-year-old? I didn’t know for sure… but only because he wasn’t either. Apparently after all this time, he couldn’t remember how old he really was when his biological processes were stopped and he became perpetually and immortally locked into this body just at the start of its puberty. Not that I was complaining, he was gorgeous to me. While he looked slight with only the hint of beginning definition in his chest and abs, he had extraordinary strength. Many times, he had lifted me single-handed and didn’t appear to struggle in the slightest. The being said, he moved with fluidity and grace like a dancer. He walked over to my side of the bed where I sat, and cuddled my face into his stomach. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have one of those stay-in-bed days?” He contemplated. “Is that what you’d like?” He wrinkled his nose in stinky disappointment, “I wish I could, but I have plans to meet people later.” With that he walked away into the bathroom, and I heard the water turn on. “There was another poster at the market today,” I called after him. Occasionally I would try to bait him into talking about his life when he went out on his nightly patrols. “Oh?” He replied, with the sounds of water splashing against his face. “A nineteen-year-old girl from the college. Dark curly hair, glasses, slightly overweight?” “I dunno,” he sighed as the sound of the faucet turned off. Suddenly, he poked his head into the bedroom pressing a plush towel into his face. As if reading my mind, he continued, “Despite what you may assume, sometimes people go missing for a lot of reasons. I am not the sole cause of every disappearance.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t mean that. But you and I have seen it before. Someone new comes to town, people mysteriously disappear, everyone is put on edge, and suddenly we have to relocate.” He gazed at me steadily, considering his response. Its sometimes very odd to have the measured gaze of a mature mind staring at you through 12-year-old eyes. “Good point,” he finally said. “But I haven’t seen any of the other signs. I’ve kept my own activity really low-key over the last six months, so there is nothing to get people looking in our direction.” With a smile he ducked back into the bathroom, “Don’t worry, Daddy… I’ll take care of us!” I lifted the t-shirt he left on the bed and checked the red stains; they were dry. It must have been from yesterday and he slept in it all night. Jeesh, what a slobby teenager he would be. I quickly surveyed the bedsheets and with a heavy heart noticed the flecks of red splattered around where we had been laying. God, could I ever get through a week where I didn’t have the launder the bedsheets daily? I started to stand and follow him, but suddenly felt a wave a dizziness and I sat back down for a moment. Low blood pressure… probably from the sudden loss of blood. As fulfilling as our relationship had become, it did have its risks. Despite being careful about my diet and my hydration levels, it was harder and harder for me to recover from our feedings. I dreaded the day he realizes our relationship would no longer work. He would disappear without a goodbye, like he had done a dozen times before with different men and women. When I heard him move into the walk-in closet to dress, I attempted to stand again. A bit shaky, but mostly stable. I carefully plodded my way into the bathroom, and stood at the sink filling a glass with water. I stared at my reflection as I slowly drank, looking at my chest. As I feared, there were red marks with a few scratches which broke the skin. At least once a day I stop and consider all the changes that had occurred in my life over the last few years. Could I have ever imagined that at this age I would be a familiar to someone like Raven? We had entered into a symbiotic relationship – I would voluntarily give myself to him for regular feedings, help him in his daily housekeeping, and play the role of his daddy if he needed to interact with the normal human world. This would minimize his impact on the city and allow us to exist safely under the radar. In return, he would support both of us with resources he had accumulated over the years and was more than willing to indulge in sexual play with me. For me, it was an extraordinary offer. My life had come crashing down around me. While professionally I was doing quite well, my family fell apart. I had hit a bad patch a few years ago. I had become injured badly on the job and it triggered a major mid-life crisis for me. During my physical rehabilitation, I became addicted to painkillers. As a struggled with my addiction during recovery, I opened myself to other drug and alcohol addictions. I was craving something to fill the emptiness inside of me. My wife tried to be supportive, but once I started become abusive, she decided for the sake of our nine-year-old daughter she would need to leave. As the divorce papers were served, I spun out of control and started indulging kocaelide escort in `extreme’ behavior — anything to help me feel some modicum of bliss. Finally, I hit rock bottom when I regained consciousness one morning in an alleyway with my pants and underwear around my ankles and my hole bruised and sore. I was shocked, and felt lucky I didn’t come down with HIV or other STI. I was hospitalized for addiction recovery and had to fight through blood, sweat, and tears to exist without drugs and alcohol. I realized my addiction was less about my injury than my realization I was feeling completely unfilled in my life. As I tried to find my footing without substances, I had to acknowledge the sexual behaviors I had experimented with. It was a hard slap in the face to realize I did have subverted desires for other men, and ultimately, I had to own that the younger the men, the more it turned me on. I would occasionally meet up with men and allow myself to experiment. But it all felt hollow… they were either young college students who were naive and inexperienced themselves, or they were older men who were cynical and would only play provided I satiated their needs. They had no interest in someone who was struggling with their own coming out so late in life. But through it all, I noticed the teen boys. The tween boys. Noticing their bodies on the edge of masculinity, budding with changes but not scarred by life. Noticing, but terrified to acknowledge how I felt. There are certain words I don’t like to use. I learned it as a trick during my early, fragile days of sobriety. Maybe it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism — to deny unpleasant reality — but it was the only way I could keep things going one day at a time. Words like “pedophile” … I felt even thinking the word would cause the thin ice I was on to crack and I would fall under. There are a number of other words I avoid in order to escape their consequences. About a year after my divorce, I was alone in a new apartment downtown celebrating my first year of sobriety, trying to think about my next steps. I had been separated from my ex-wife and daughter with very little contact, and apart from a few very supporting friends, I was pretty much on my own. During those long evenings by myself, I would ruminate of my weaknesses and tried to understand my sexual feelings around young men. I didn’t mind admiring the teens and tweens from a distance, but I was scared about actually having to interact with them. The last thing I wanted in my state was to have my secret out, or even worse — to inadvertently scare or hurt someone if I fell down that “rabbit hole”. One Sunday evening shortly after my 43rd birthday, I stopped and sat down on a park bench. I had attended an AA meeting a church across the street from a large pedestrian park and the burden of the session had me a little overwhelmed. I had often sat down for a breath of air in the twilight hours after this meeting to compose myself before returning home. I had to ask myself how I would go forward? How would I get back to normal? How would I earn the right to see my little girl again? I was so tired of the struggle to stay sober in the world with a hole in my heart. That’s when I heard the footsteps approaching, coming out of the park, out of the shadows of the trees. A boy in ragged jeans and a hoodie, holding a skateboard. His hair long and black around his shoulders. Deep gray eyes gazing at me questioningly. In my vulnerable emotional state, just the sight of this beauty had immediately made me start to swell. As he gazed at me, a slight smile crept across his face. Almost as if he could see me hardening in the dark. Held in his gaze, it’s like I could feel myself falling and all of my anxieties and terrors about life all seemed to slip away. The rest of the evening was a blur, and even years after I can’t remember all the details. I just remember waking up the next afternoon in a darkened room completely naked, Raven’s graceful soft body cuddled up beside me on a ratty mattress. I was at first in shock and confused, damning myself for some indiscretion I didn’t even remember choosing. But shortly after, a calm fell over me and as I felt him against me, I suddenly felt a peace I hadn’t known in years. When he woke a little while later, he startled briefly on seeing me but then seemed to remember me from the previous day. He smiled again and sat up on the mattress. He picked up my hand and started slowly running my fingers across his full lips. He said “Good morning” and then asked if I was still willing to join in the arrangement we had discussed. My mouth immediately said “Yes!” even though my mind was still foggy on what he was talking about. What arrangement? What had actually happened? What had actually been said? When I noticed him in the dim light of the room and the shadows falling over his nude torso, I saw his cock slightly chubbed up. Had I done that to him? Did a boy his age actually get off on an older man like me?? But he chuckled as he noticed my gaze. “Easy, Lawrence… there will be more of that later on. This is just the beginning. But right now, I still need more rest. Can you let yourself out? I’ll see you tonight at your place.” With that, he seemed to melt back into the sheets and went unconscious. It was strange, like someone pulled the power cord from him, or hit an “off” switch. He just lay there unmoving, not even the sound of a snore or deep breath to give him away. I slowly stood up from the mattress and started the process of collecting my clothes. As I dressed quickly as I felt compelled to leave as soon as I could. There was something not quite right here, and given the fact I had probably just committed a felony, I shouldn’t stick around longer a minute longer than necessary. I stepped out onto the pavement of some gritty back alley near the industrial park, determined that I had narrowly dodged a very dangerous bullet. I had obviously had some sort of sexual encounter with the boy, but he couldn’t have known my home address, so I would never have to see him. If I changed my AA meeting schedule and stopped going to that one church, he wouldn’t be able to back-track to find me. By 8 pm that evening, I was back in my apartment having finished dinner and watching television. I had convinced myself it was a one-off situation. I convinced myself I couldn’t remember the encounter because my mind was still in such shock that to remember it all would put me off the deep end and I would lose my sobriety. It all hung on the precipice of my sanity, but if I could make it through the next few days, I could move on as if nothing had happened. But at 8:30, there was a knock at my door. This was startling, as I hadn’t buzzed anyone into the apartment building from the street entrance. As I opened the door, my mouth went dry as I saw the young boy standing there with a bulging backpack. His face lit up as he walked past me into my home. “Nice place!” he crooned. “Thank you for inviting me, Lawrence. Or should I say, daddy?” That was the night that Raven moved in, and my life changed forever. Now, I stood in my new condo’s bathroom, gazing at my reflection. The light-headedness from before had faded and I felt steady on my feet. Suddenly from my side, Raven approached in his street clothes — black jeans, t-shirt, and a pullover sweatshirt. Didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, his style had been pretty much the same since I met him. Combination of skater boy and goth kid. I noticed he was wearing a collar choker with spikes on it, but he had not put on any of his black eyeliner. “Do me a favor?” I smiled willingly at him. How could I not smile at my little angel? Fallen angel. “Unless you have a specific appointment, don’t go out today. Or at least be home before 10.” “Is something wrong?” I asked him, noticing again that there was something uncharacteristic in his warning. He shook his head. “Naw,” he snickered. “It’s just your punishment for not being there when I woke up. I may be home early and would like to catch up on our shows.” He slipped out of the doorway back into the walk-in closet, but I could feel it. Something was amiss, and it was something he didn’t want to talk about. A vague feeling of my heart dropping out of my chest descended on me, and I wondered if he could have heard it in the ail Other Nifty Stories by Mobius: The Brotherhood fty//gay/highschool/the-brotherhood-redux/ The Brothers Next Door fty//gay/incest/the-brothers-next-door/

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın