index


Message-ID: <35986asstr$1017864603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com (bill johnson)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: 3 Apr 2002 15:43:28 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Repost, Tim's New Neighbor, Part 4 (b/ mast)
Date: Wed,  3 Apr 2002 15:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is the 4th part to a second series involving the coming of age of
13 year old Tim Martin. These characters and situations are completely
fictional.  Great pains have been taken, however, to make the
situations and character development as real as possible. There are
some sexual situations in these stories, so they are only meant for
adults, age 18 or older.  Please feel free to interact with me, the
author. I answer every email
.
Part 4

"Where should I set my suitcase?"  

"The bottom dresser drawer is empty. Why don't you put your stuff in
there?"

"I would prefer that, actually.  It is difficult to keep the clothes
looking good when they stay in a suitcase.  I will put my shirts and
underwear in there, and I will hang the rest of the clothes in the
closet."

"Your suitcase looks just like it did yesterday, before you unpacked
it!"

"My Mother always packs it for me." He placed his folded designer
t-shirts on the left hand side of the drawer, and the folded underwear
on the right hand side of the drawer, with his socks in the middle. 
He went to the closet and got 5 hangers.  He hung three pairs of jeans
and 2 pairs of pajamas, and hanging each top and bottom on a hanger.

"Man, you hang up your pajamas?"  I had to ask.

"What do you do with yours?"

"I keep `em in the drawer second up from the bottom. I don't wear `em
much. Only when I have somebody overnight or if we have guests in the
house."

"What do you usually wear when you sleep?"

"Just my underwear."

"Oh.. Don't the pajamas get wrinkled keeping them in a drawer?'

"Wrinkled?  Look!" I opened the drawer.  They were wadded up and
stuffed in with a bunch of clothes that I didn't wear anymore.
"They're just PJ's."

"I guess you are right.  I was always told that I should look my
best."

He always did. He always dressed in neat, clean clothes. Nothing was
ever out of place.  That was one of the differences between John and
him.  John was kind of loud and gross, kind of heavy set, and messy.

"You really got some nice clothes."

"My mom says that the designer brands are better quality, and that
they will last longer,  and if you fold them good and hang them up
they will last even longer yet.  When I outgrow the clothes they are
still in good condition. She donates them to the Catholic Relief
Center."

"Oh, OK."  I couldn't argue.  He was always dressed like a million
bucks.

The last thing in his suitcase was a little matching zipper case.
"This is my toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and comb." He put it in
the bathroom.

"My mom really didn't have to go to West Lafayette. My sister would
have gotten along fine.  Mom was worried that she would need help. 
She told her to stay home, but Mom wouldn't hear of it and went."

"Oh. It's cool how it worked out. We have the whole weekend together,
and we can play some good  poker games without your watch beeping."

He smiled.  "Yes, that is a good way to look at it."

I got on the bed, leaning up against the headboard, and turned on the
TV with the remote.  He just stood there.  "Come on, Joey, you can sit
up here, too." I patted the bed with my hand, in front of the pillows
on the other side. The only chair in my room was a hard desk chair. 
He climbed up and leaned against the pillows on his side.  I began
channel surfing.

"What are you doing?"

"It's called channel surfing.  You just click through every channel,
and stop on something that looks good."

"Oh."  I stopped on a VH1 video.  We watched it without saying
anything.  During the commercial I surfed some more.  He just watched
wide-eyed.  I stopped on a Scooby-Doo cartoon.  He watched with
interest. "Teenagers go across the country in a van and solve crimes?"

"You  never watched Scooby-Doo?"

"No, my parents apparently did not choose this one for me to watch." 
We watched the entire 30 minute show.  After it was over, he looked at
me, rolling his eyes in skepticism. "There is no way that an old lady
can wear a mask and look like a sheriff.  Also, how can a movie
projector make something look like a ghost?"

"It's just a dumb cartoon, but I like to watch it because Scooby and
Shaggy are funny."

"Oh." He wasn't laughing.

"Boys! Supper is ready!"

"Come on, I'm starved."  Joey went into the bathroom and thoroughly
washed his hands.  We went to the kitchen.  Mom had the tacos already
made, and some Mountain Dews in cans.  Joey was very polite, and drank
out of the can.  It looked like he had never done it before.  We ate
and ate some more, until we were full.  He seemed to get comfortable
with our more casual way of serving and eating food, and began to
really enjoy himself. I took another can of Mountain Dew out of the
refrigerator and looked at Joey, using the can to point to the partial
six pack left.  He understood, and pulled one off the plastic ring. 
We carried them back to my room, and I shut the door.

He sat on the edge of the bed.  If I didn't make a move he would
probably sit there all night waiting for me to decide what we would
do. I knew what he wanted to do, and that was play poker with the
betting chips.  He had become real good at it, and he always seemed to
have a lot of fun when we played the times before. I didn't give him a
choice, though, because the answer was always, "You decide. Anything
would be fine with me."

 He was terrible at video games, so I got down the chips and the cards
from the top of my closet. "Since we have time, we can play it the
official way."

"What is the official way?"

"You get 25 whites, five reds, and five blues.  The whites are ones,
the reds are fives, and the blues are tens, so we each start with a
hundred dollars."

"Dollars?"

"Make-believe dollars."  It will be like gambling with real money."

"Oh. Who will deal first?"

"We'll each pick a card, high card deals first."

He won the draw, and dealt the first hand, winning it straight up.  He
won 9 chips from me, neatly stacking them into the three stacks, one
for each color.  The next few hands he was on a roll, and before long
he had 3 of my blue chips and 2 of my reds.

At about 8:30, he stood up, and went into the bathroom., leaving the
door open. I could hear his urine hit the water in the toilet.  He had
drunk a lot of Mountain Dew, and he peed a lot.  He came out with that
smile on his face and sat back down.  I stood up.  "I need to water
the lilies, too."  I got the usual question mark face.  "I mean, I
have to use the restroom, also."

He smiled and nodded. "Water the lilies."  He laughed with his
familiar high pitch. I peed a lot, too.  We both had been holding it
for a while.  This was the first time either of us peed since he
arrived.

The game continued, and I was losing pretty bad.  He had gotten some
great hands, and, unlike me that night, was betting smart. I made some
terrible bets, and my bluffs did not fool him.

He was like a different person when he was playing poker. He acted
confident and smart. I guess that a combination of his intelligence
and my good teaching made him a good player.

As the night went on my chip count was getting low. I only had a blue,
a red, and 3 whites left. I looked at my next hand.  Not bad, two
jacks and two 4's.  It cost five `dollars' to play a hand. We only bet
once each deal, after the draw.  I drew one card.  It was another 4. 
I held the first good hand I had all night, a full house.  Here was an
opportunity to get some of my chips back. I bet all thirteen.  He
paused and saw the bet, showing his hand.  A full house!  I couldn't
believe my eyes.  His beat mine. He had three Queens and two 2's.  I
went bust.

"It looks like I won."  He did not show any glee, and he did not
gloat. He looked at me. "What should we do now?"

It was after 10:30. I stood up. "I think I will put on my pajamas and
get more comfortable."

I had been thinking about this moment ever since I knew he was going
to be staying overnight, the part about getting dressed for bed. I
quickly remembered what happened when John slept over last September,
when we turned our backs on each other for privacy, and before long we
were naked together. That was the beginning of a whole new world for
me.  Was I interested in that kind of involvement with Joey? Part of
me said, "No, don't even go there." A different part of me wanted to
show off everything I had, and I mean everything!  Another part of me
was curious about what Joey looked like underneath all of those
fabulous clothes he wore. Joey was so shy. He would probably go into
the bathroom and change. I considered changing in the bathroom, but it
kind of excited me when I thought about undressing in front of him

The excitement gave me a semi hard on. I couldn't let him see the
bulge in my underwear.  He may have thought I was a queer or
something.

I got out my pajamas from the drawer and laid them on the bed.  I took
off my shirt and put my pajama top on.  Its shirttail came down to a
couple of inches below my belly button. It did not cover my crotch
area.  I undid my belt and unfastened my jeans, unzipping them and
letting them fall to the floor.  I was facing my dresser the whole
time, so my back was turned to Joey.  I stepped out of the jeans.  The
lower half of my briefs were exposed below the PJ top, and I was
getting more aroused.  My dick was poking in my briefs, so I kept
facing away from Joey so he couldn't see.

I don't even know if he was watching.  He was sitting on the floor
behind me, putting the cards and chips back into their boxes.  I
stepped into the PJ bottoms and snapped the 2 snaps.  My dick was
still poking some, so I carefully reached down into my briefs and
pulled it facing up.  The briefs were kind of snug, and they held it
in place.  I tried to walk and sit so the bulge would not be evident.

Joey finished putting the chips in the box at the same time I turned
around.

"Do you want me to put them back in the top of the closet?"

"Sure, if you don't want to play anymore." Part of me wanted a hot
game of strip poker, the other part of me said, "Don't even got
there." (The way my luck was in the previous game I would have been
sitting there with nothing but a boner and he would have been sitting
there with one bare foot.)

I was not sure about Joey. The things with John always happened
because he made all of the first moves.  If Joey was not at all
interested in "playing around" then suggesting it may have scared him
away and I could have alienated a good friend.  He may have even been
the kind of kid who would tell his parents,  I just didn't know.  He
was so different about so many things. Part of me wanted to get naked
with him, and part of me kept saying, "Don't even go there."  I was
very apprehensive.

He put the chips and cards in the top of the closet, and I sat on the
bed and picked up the remote. I turned on the TV and went to my usual
TV watching position, leaning up against the pillows on the headboard.
I put my knees up some, so that the front of my pajamas created a
space over the bulge. I did not want my excitement to be evident. .

He got the hanger down and laid his light blue pajamas, hanger and
all, on my desk

(Here is how my room was laid out: The wall to my left consisted of,
[going from left to right], the closet, the bathroom door, and my
desk. Against the wall straight ahead was the TV, and to the right of
it was the door leading out to the hall.  The side of the bed was
against the wall to my right, with a one foot walk space.  The head of
the bed, a trash can, a small nightstand, and my dresser were against
the wall behind me.)

 He took the PJs to my desk.  He could have gone into the bathroom
and, even with the door open, gone back in there where I couldn't see
him, but he went to the desk in my full view. I didn't say anything. 
I just surfed through the channels.

Joey took off his shirt and put on his pajama top.  He was average
height for a kid our age, and thin, but not gaunt.  You could see his
ribs, and that sunk in area below them. He laid the shirt over my desk
chair.

"This will have to be laundered." (It was not dirty.)  I just nodded. 

He took his belt completely off and laid it on the dresser. He
unbuttoned his jeans (they were Ralph Laurens). He had that `freedom
smile' on his face as he unzipped them, and stepped out of them.  He
was facing toward the wall to my left. There he stood in his
underwear. They were the same kind, the Calvin Kleins he showed me the
day before when he was unpacking his suitcase. The legs of the boxer
briefs went about halfway down his thighs. I could see no bulge.  If
he had one, I would have seen it, because the top didn't go down that
far. He was standing sideways, and the underwear fit snuggly. I
looked, but tried to act like I wasn't looking. He put on his bottoms
and snapped them.  He hung his jeans on the hanger and put them in the
closet. He folded the "dirty" shirt and laid it with the belt on top
of his suitcase which was up against the left side of the desk.

I turned on a lamp that was on my nightstand. "Hey, man, would you
turn off the big light while you're up?"

"This one?"  He pointed to a switch by the door. I nodded. He turned
it off and climbed up on the bed and laid there beside me. His pajamas
were also Calvin Kleins!  He put his knees up like I had done,
probably just following my lead, not trying to hide anything.  I could
tell that sex was not on his mind.

I surfed through and stopped at another music video, and we watched it
quietly. Then I found an old science fiction movie, and I looked at
him.

"You want to watch it?"

"It is all right with me, if it is with you.." He always let me
decide.

We watched quietly. After 11:30 I looked at him and he was sleeping. 
I poked him. "Joey, do you wanna get under the covers?"

He stood up, half asleep, and pulled down the covers. He climbed back
in bed, pulled the covers up to his neck, turned to his side, and
muttered, "Good night." He was facing the wall away from me.

I got under the covers, too, and said, "Sleep tight," kind of
jokingly.  He immediately went off to sleep. I turned off the TV and
the lamp on my nightstand. The room was dark.

I was not sleepy.  I was only interested in one thing, getting a
sexual release.  Everything in me wanted it, but I was still in a
conflict about whether to involve Joey.  He was sound asleep. I could
tell by the way he was breathing. I still had a hard on, so I very
carefully and quietly with my knees propped up raised my butt up and
pulled down my pajama bottoms with my briefs to just under my crotch,
releasing my cock. Joey was about 3   feet from me. It reminded me of
my first night with John, when I stealthily jerked off while he slept
beside me, in the same spot where John was sleeping, the first time I
had ever done it, or even tried it.

 I put my thumb one side of the shaft and my four fingers on the other
side. I started in on it.  I had been worked up all night, really. 
The poker game and the overnight guest reminded me of other times. It
didn't take long before I felt the orgasm begin to build. I did the
usual fondling of the underside of my penis head, stroking it gently
with my thumb and forefinger. That always sent rushes of energy
through my whole body. I could feel it begin at the top of my head and
rush down and out of my butt hole. That would always bring my dick to
its largest and hardest point. The ruler was beside me on the
nightstand, but it was dark, so my usual `jerk-off measurement' was
out of the question.

I brought myself right to the edge of explosion a few times, stopping
and restarting again. When I decided stop holding off, I very quietly
reached my left hand over to the tissue box on my nightstand. I slowly
pulled one out, and then another, being careful to not make any noise.
 I tented them over my cock, and closed my fingers around the base of
the head. I made small strokes, about   an inch under the head, back
up, and down, and up, and it was time.  I pulled it back to my belly
so the cum wouldn't go down all over me. I wanted it all to collect in
the tissues. I gave the shaft a few long, fast strokes.

 W w w w w w w w w w w   w    w           w                w WAM! Each
shot fired out with great release and intensity, but I tried hard not
to let my body jerk. I didn't want to awaken Joey.

I squeezed every bit of cum into the tissues, which were now full of
semen. (I learned the hard way that one tissue wasn't enough.)  As
usual, my heart was pounding and I was breathing heavy, but I stayed
quiet and still. I wiped the end of my dick with a corner of the
tissues, and quietly wrapped them all up together and threw them in
the trash can.  I carefully raised up my butt from the bed.  My knees
were still propped halfway up, and I pulled up my P Js and briefs.

I rolled to my side facing the wall. A river of thoughts began to rush
through my mind while I lay there.  "Should I involve Joey? Do I want
to? Part of me does.  Part of me says, `Don't even go there.'"  I
couldn't  imagine how he looked naked, no matter how hard I tried.  I
guess there are some people that you don't think about in that way. 
Maybe Joey was one of them. "He is a boy, though. Had he ever jacked
off? Did he know about it? Did he think about trying? Did he have
pubes, yet? Does he ever think about sex in any way? Would he think I
was a faggot if he knew what I had just done, or if he knew of what
John and I did together?" Questions, questions, nothing but questions.

I kept thinking until I got tired, and then I went off to sleep.

________________________________________________________________________

To be continued in Part 5

Email me with questions or comments.  I enjoy the feedback.

mailto:billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+