By Chris Carr
Copyright © May 02, 2016
“Huh?” I asked, stunned.
“Buy The Daily Breeze?” he repeated, holding up an order form.
Ok, let me explain…. This wasn’t just cute, this was — brain-dropping-into-your-pants — gorgeous. You know, so mind numbingly attractive, you’re certain you’re out of your league to even wish. I hesitated, some part of me reluctant to be rid of him so quickly.
“Sorry… I already get the Times,” I tendered.
“But this is for a good cause,” he insisted, adding, “you’d be helping me win points toward summer camp.”
“But I don’t need 2 papers.”
“You can order it and then just cancel.”
“Cancel? You want me to order a paper and then cancel it?”
“No. Keep the subscription for 4 weeks then cancel. That way I’ll get credit.”
“For a worthy cause, sir. To help keep kids off the street,” he spouted with boyish insouciance.
“It’s only $13.95.”
He waited as I stared, contemplating. Problem was, I wasn’t thinking clear.
“I don’t think…”
“Oh please sir,” he interjected, anticipating my denial. “I’m so close. All I need is 48 points,” he reported, whipping out a tally sheet from his pocket.
He’s got dimples, I thought, gazing at his adorable face. Dimples, sparkling white teeth, sexy red lips, sultry brown eyes….
He waited patiently, quietly watching as I got an eye full of him.
“What’s your name?” I asked, a shameless stall.
“How many papers have you sold?”
“Uh…,” he counted in his head then responded, “6.”
Oh give it up, I thought, he hasn’t got a clue. All he wants is to sell a paper, nothing more, nothing less.
Wondering had I completely lost my mind, I cautiously inquired “Can you come inside?”
“’K,” he beamed, squeezing past me.
It’s amazing what one can accomplish when properly motivated. Upon further discussion, I learned that Julian was somewhat a slacker. While his friends were busy canvassing the neighborhood, racking up points, he’d been hanging out at the youth center, avoiding work. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one taken by his dazzling good looks.
He really wanted to go to camp with his buddies but, at this late hour, it was highly unlikely. Unless someone stepped in and… shall we say, saved the day. And so, here we were, in my room, Julian anxiously perched on my bed.
“So, we got a deal?” I asked, bending to remove his tennis.
“Man, what you doin’?” he stressed, pulling my hands off his shoes.
“Oh, so we ain’t got a deal?”
“Yeah, but why you gotta take off my shoes?”
“I was trying to start you off slow,” I explained. “But we can get right to it, you want.”
With that, I reached to undo his pants. He grabbed my hands again, making a half-hearted attempt to restrain them. We stared at each other, waiting, until I reiterated,
“I thought you needed the points. You don’t want them, we can stop.”
“Yeah, I want them, but why it’s got to be like this?” He said, holding my hands.
“You choose,” I said, releasing him.
He stared at me a long time then softly relented,
“Ok, start with my shoes.”
Julian gyrated his hips again, moaning softly as I ran my hand up and over his pulsing protrusion and back between his legs. His boxers in the way now, I yanked them off, exposing his intoxicatingly beautiful brown skin. Returning to his thrusting spear, I clutched it, clasping its bulbous head through my fist.
“Ssss…ah!” he yelped, pushing his dick into my down-thrusting hand, his eyes closed.
Juices leaked out, wetting my hand and I spread them about the head of his dick. He moaned again, his toes wiggling. I released his dick and played with his dangling balls. They filled my hand perfectly, warm to the touch. Squeezing them, I bent low and licked them, their piquant aroma stimulating.
“Damn!” He squealed, shoving his hips toward my mouth.