Confession of a Boy Lover – Chapter 3
The pizza box, which was on the floor of the living room, was empty. It sat between me and Jem, where we sat cross-legged, also on the floor. The boy patted a full stomach, “That was DE-licious,” he emphasized the first syllable and then punctuated it with a burp.
We both laughed at the antics of Woody and Buzz in Toy Story 3 all the way until the credits rolled. By then, it was pushing nine o’clock. I grabbed the pizza box and climbed to my feet with an exaggerated groan, “Alright, I think it’s bath time, big guy. You want to head that way while I put this in the trash?”
A few minutes later, I found Jem in the bathroom, rummaging through his backpack. After a few minutes, he blushed as he said, “Is it okay if I wear my superman Underroos tonight?”
He held up a blue t-shirt top with the red and yellow S and a pair of red underwear. I was sure he would look positively adorable. I was equally sure I wasn’t crazy about him wearing them. I said, “What about your Incredible Hulk pajamas?”
He shrugged, “They’re dirty.”
Inwardly, I sighed. “Sure, buddy. Superman it is.”
Then, I turned on the faucet in the tub, “I’ll run your bath-water for you, Jem. If you need any help, just let me know. I’ll be in my bedroom. Okay?”
He nodded, the blush still on his rosy cheeks. Once the water was to a suitable level, I cut it off and headed to the door. He was already shirtless as I closed it behind me.
Back in my bedroom, I lay on my bed, wondering how I found myself in such a predicament. The more time I spent with Jem, the more I wanted to be around the boy. And that wasn’t good for either of us. My thoughts ran back to the other boys I had loved before my life had gone off track. The youngest had been twelve. The oldest, just shy of fourteen. My attraction had been for boys in the early stages of puberty, and Jem was still several years away from that. So, I sucked in a deep breath and told myself I could handle myself, that I would never touch him. Not sexually, ever.
Around the time I made that vow to myself, his cherubic voice called out, “Jack! I need help!”
Holding tight to my vow, I went back into the bathroom. Jem was still in the tub. His legs were straight, and he was leaning back on his arms. That put his privates on public display. Like most boys in the US, he was circumcised, which gave him his penis a perfect bit of symmetry. His tiny glans created a perfect helmet above his thin, little tube of flesh. Even though he pointed nearly straight up into the air, it was because he was small, not really more than an inch in length. His sack was nestled tightly below his shaft and his balls, outlined within his scrotum, were probably twice the size of raisins.
He looked up at me, blissfully unaware his charms were on full display. I said, “Hey, buddy, you need help?”
Jem nodded, “Yeah, can you wash my hair? Mom usually does it for me.”
I knelt beside him and tried to not stare at his little noodle, “Sure.”
I had a plastic cup I had picked up at some U of Colorado game on the counter. I grabbed it and turned the water on and filled it up. “Let’s get your hair wet first.”
I doused his hair a few times with that cupful of water and then poured shampoo into the palm of my hand. There was something delightful in running my soapy fingers through his long strands of hair as he remained oblivious to how he gave me unfettered access to see him in all his innocent glory. Still, I needed to hold fast to my vow, so I did my best to not dwell on what he displayed. After thoroughly shampooing his hair, I rinsed it even more thoroughly, pouring warm water from the faucet onto his hair until the tub had filled up another six inches or so.
I leaned back, “There you go. Anything else before I let you finish up?”
Jem nodded, and finally leaned forward, hiding his boyhood below his hunch, “Can you wash my back? Mom does that too.”
I could see his request was purely innocent. He was just doing what he usually did. I would not make an issue of it, no matter how difficult it made my vow. I grabbed the soap and lathered up my hands. His skin was warm and smooth as my hands glided effortlessly across his shoulder blades and down the valley of his spine. I stopped my hands when I reached his lower back, even though I could see the soft, white globes of his backside below the water’s surface.
I used the cup to rinse his back off, “All done, big guy. You want a bit more time to finish?”
Jem shook his head and stood up, giving me another glorious look at his little boyhood. “Nah. I’m wrinkling up. Mom helps me dry off.”
When he said that, I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eye. But as I gave him a second glance, it was gone or never there to begin with. Uncertain about that, I grabbed a towel and took to vigorously scrubbing his hair dry. Then I wadded it up and dabbed at his back before turning him around and doing the same to his chest and stomach. I ignored his middle, instead using the towel to dry his ankles up to just past his knees. He really was a very skinny boy. I doubt he weighed over sixty pounds. Also, I noticed how smooth were his ankles.
The youngest boy I loved had just turned twelve the first time we were together. And even though his plumbing was turned on, the rest of his secondary sexual characteristics lagged, and he was very smooth. Except for his ankles. Dark hair was replacing the near-clear vellus hairs around his ankles. Running my hands over Jem’s ankles, his vellus hair was sparse and nearly invisible to the naked eye and the inspection by my hands.
Of course, that was the observation of just a couple of seconds. When I finished with his knees, I held up the towel to him, “There you go, Jem. I think you can finish the last bits yourself.”
Jem didn’t say anything cheeky, he just took the towel and finished drying off. I was at the door before he finished, “I’ll leave it to you to finish dressing.”
I was both proud of myself for my self-restraint and also terrified my self-control would eventually crack. I couldn’t afford to let myself go with Jem. First, he was too young. Secondly, I didn’t want to lose everything I have built since arriving in Boulder. Over the past seven years, I’d built a nice nest-egg. Between my returns on my day-trades and selling market research to other investors, I was doing pretty good.
Jem came into the door of my bedroom. His hair stuck up, still wet. He looked incredibly cute in his little superman underroos. He said, “I brushed my teeth. Can we watch some more TV before bed? No school tomorrow.”
I nodded, “Sure, you want to find one of the movies and we can watch it in the living room?”
He glanced down. I could see he had something on his mind. “What’s wrong, bro?”
He grinned at the comment. “I like how you call me bro, buddy, and stuff. It makes me feel like we’re friends.”
I beckoned him into my room, and patted the space next to me, “We are, Jem. As much as we can be.”
He said, “It makes me feel like I’m not just some kid and that my parents didn’t just dump me on you.”
I told myself my vow wasn’t in danger as I pulled him into a hug. The way he responded, wrapping his arms around my neck, told me I’d chosen well. He needed my friendship while his parents tried to keep his world from going to hell.
We watched another movie in the living room and I tucked him under the covers and even gave him a kiss on the forehead before retreating back to my bedroom, where I grabbed a clean pair of underwear and headed to the bathtub.
I showered, which I strongly preferred over baths. I wasn’t strong enough for my thoughts to not return to Jem’s bath-time. Even though I preferred boys who could give me their seed, I couldn’t deny Jem’s cuteness. Of course, I’d never let myself touch him sexually. I didn’t need that complication. Still, thinking about him led to an erection. Long ago, I’d told myself my five or so inches had been one thing women wouldn’t like about me. I told myself they wanted big guys. And at seventeen, I already knew I’d never be that guy.
Now, just on the other side of thirty, I accepted my body as it was, just as I accepted I would always be a boy lover. Correction, I’d remain a celibate boy lover. One thing I had hoped for when I was seventeen is that my body would eventually fill out. I felt uncomfortable in gym class. All us boys were between fifteen and eighteen. Most of us had glory trails between our penises and our bellies. Some of us had nearly as much hair on our pits and chests as we had on our crotches. At seventeen, I had a few strands under my arms and nothing of note on my chest. My glory trail died out a couple of inches above my shaft. Even my legs weren’t very hairy.
And now, as I washed my body, not much had changed. I had a few more errant hairs under my arms and a few lonely strands around my nipples, but apart from that, I was smooth down to my pubic area, where my hair started. I glanced at my pubic area. Just above where my penis pointed straight at the wall, my pubic hair struggled to spread away from the base more than an inch or two in any direction.
When I was in college, I shaved my pubes. It really made me feel closer to the boys I loved back then. And during my first job, I even paid to for laser hair removal. Mark had loved how smooth I was; Just like him. God, how I wish he hadn’t bragged about us.
Now, in my early thirties, as I looked at the sparse hair over my erection, I wondered if I had fucked up getting the laser hair removal. Even though I had never sported a huge patch of curly pubes, ever since then, my hair had been sparser, straighter, and less coarse.
As the water poured over my body, I couldn’t shake Jem’s image from my mind. His adorable little cocklet was firmly embedded in my mind and soon I was stroking myself, feeling that familiar tingle thrumming along my penis until I felt my balls constrict. My knees threatened to buckle as I leaned against the shower tiles. The first blast of my ejaculate splattered the shower curtain with my cloudy seed. My dick kicked in my hand a half-dozen more times, each successive blast less powerful than the previous until that which remained slid down my fingers.
Guilt set in as I washed my ejaculate from my penis and hands and even from the shower curtain. Come on, Jack, I told myself, I vowed to hold the line. How can I do that if I’m beating off to this gorgeous boy?
After drying off, my penis was back to its normal size, not quite three shriveled inches. I slid on my underwear and then headed toward my bedroom.
Jem was lying on my bed when I walked into my room. He had managed to find the remote and was watching some show on the Cartoon Network. At least until I walked in. His young eyes raked themselves over me before he said, “You’re in your underwear.”
I wanted to ask him why he wasn’t asleep in the living room. After all, that’s where I left him.
Instead, I said, “So are you. What’s up? Problem with the couch?”
I slipped on my boxers, pulling them over my white underwear as Jem said, “Yeah. I got scared, Jack. I really don’t want to sleep alone. Can I sleep in here with you? Pretty please!”
I shook my head. We were both practically in just our underwear. “Do you think your mom and dad would want you sleeping in my bed?”
I could see the worry creeping into Jem’s eyes as he said, “I’ll tell them I slept on the couch.”
I warred with myself. Part of me wanted nothing more than to let him into my bed. Instead, I said, “It’s not just your parents, buddy. What would your friends think?”
The worry deepened as his brows creased, “Jack, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please don’t make me sleep alone.”
Seeing Jem’s genuine fear, I pointed toward my bed, “Fine. But no TV. Get your cute little butt into bed.”
A few minutes later, I turned the light out and crawled under the covers, hyperaware of the boy sharing the space. A moment later, I felt him against my arm. There was a childish giggle, followed by, “Do you really think I’ve got a cute butt?”
I groaned, “Good night, Jem.”
He giggled again, but at least he rolled away. A few minutes later, his soft snores confirmed he was asleep. It took a lot longer this second night before I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up on my back. During the night, Jem pushed the covers down. He had also cuddled next to me at some point. While he was also on his back, one of his legs now draped over one of mine.
That’s when I noticed, unlike the previous morning, my morning wood was in full form, pushing against my underwear. A moment later, I saw a protrusion poking from Jem’s red Superman underwear. Even though it wasn’t sticking out far, I recognized a boner.
As best as I could, I slid out from under Jem’s leg and quietly made my way to the bathroom. By the time I finished draining my bladder, things down below were back to normal. When I went back into the bedroom, Jem was stirring. He opened his eyes and saw me, “G’morning,” he mumbled.
I tousled his messy hair, “Good morning to you too. So, this morning, do you want cold milk and cereal or cereal and cold milk?”
Jem giggled until he realized what I had realized earlier. He saw his little erection creating a tent in his underroos, and almost immediately one of his hands sought to cover it. His rosy cheeks turned scarlet as he mumbled, “S-, sorry.”
I tried to make nothing of it, “No worries. Happens to every guy. Why don’t you go to the bathroom while I get breakfast served?”
He joined me in the kitchen, still wearing his underroos. Of course, I was still in just my boxers. As we ate, he said, “D-, does that happen to you, too?”
I nodded as I took a bite of cereal. “Yep. Your dad too.”
When he finished eating, he said, “Mom told me not to touch it when it happens. She hit my hand once in the bathtub.”
This surprised me. Wes and Donna struck me as typical progressive parents. Kind of the norm with the faculty at the college. Maybe she just wanted him to be older before discovering the pleasures his body had in store. I didn’t want to get involved in their parenting. Although I suppose I already was.
I said, “I’d suggest you not touch yourself when she’s around, Jem. Women can be weird about that.”
His face returned to that embarrassed hue as he said, “Do you, um, ever touch yours, Jack?”
I know my face turned red. I coughed. I really didn’t want to answer questions about our bodies. To be more truthful, I didn’t want to answer any question that could come back and bite me on the ass. I said, “Um, I’m not sure your parents want me answering questions about that stuff, Jem.”
Jem frowned, “I think Mom’s embarrassed about it. And Dad’s really busy with his job. Please.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table, “I don’t think so, buddy. They could get really upset with me if I told you things they didn’t agree with.”
Jem sighed, “Being a kid sucks sometimes.”
I chuckled as I tousled his hair again and cleaned up breakfast.
Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved