Pete knew better than to get into the car. He was aware of all the stories about what could happen when you did. He wasn't going anywhere but it was such a great spring day he didn't want to go to his house and so he disregarded all the precautionary tales he'd been taught.

He'd walked up to the Big O for a soda and a double order of fried onion rings, extra ketchup please, after school. His buddy Beamo came close to cutting off his finger preparing those very onion rings one afternoon, and so Pete always got some, thinking they had to be good for someone to sacrifice a finger to make them.

Now he was walking back home, not really wanting to go home, when the black sedan eased over to the shoulder in front of him. It was the first car he'd seen on the short walk. The coming home from school crowd was home and the working class were still busy behind their desks. He measured the distance to his house in his mind and then he pulled the door open, easing himself into the front seat, only half glancing at the driver.

It wasn't important who it was. Doing something different and out of character was. He was looking for something other than his routine. He had been looking for something for some time but he still wasn't sure what it was or why this need for adventure had grown so strong. A year ago he wouldn't have gone near a strange car, especially on a deserted section of road like that.

Pete knew what he was doing was wrong by the standards he'd been taught but he wanted a ride just then and here is was. This would do fine and he shut the door and looked straight ahead, being careful not to look at the driver's face.

"Where you heading, kid?"

"I don't know. No where I guess," Pete said, sensing the driver would know. "Killing time is all. Just don't want to go home yet."

"Want to cruise awhile. I hate going home too. It's so damn boring."

"Yeah, why not? Let's cruise."

There were only about a million reasons why not, but those reasons had all been discarded by then and he wasn't in the mood for reasons why not anyway.

He was wearing orange and white socks. That's what Pete noticed first about the driver. The dusty black baseball spikes were under Pete's feet, so he knew why orange and white right off. The baseball shirt was laying on the backseat when Pete looked in the back. He had thought he recognized the car from other walks down that road.

The driver wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off leaving wide round holes. It only covered his chest and shoulders, leaving his flat white belly exposed. His arms were cut and defined with tiny blond red hairs on the thick forearms. Pete hesitated to look up at the face, although he was sure he knew who the driver was by then.

After looking back out the windshield for a few seconds, Pete noticed the thin line of curly dark hairs that peaked out from the gray pants. It was what caught Pete's attention next that stirred a more intense interest in the driver. The pants had the dark blue strip down the side and the top button was unfastened and the zipper was down two inches, maybe three. It was down far enough to expose the beginnings of a cream colored jock pouch with a wide waistband just above there to interrupt the plunging hair that started at the inny belly button.

The driver gazed straight ahead, guiding the car back on the road like a pro. He seemed oblivious to his passenger at first, being more interested in the trajectory of his vehicle.

"You've passed me on this road about a million times. You never stopped for me before."

"Nope," the driver said seemingly unconcerned about the challenge.

"I wasn't hitching, you know."

"Yep. You weren't hitching."

"What's up with that?"

"I'm always in a hurry. It's nothing personal. You're a kid that's all. I got things to do and places to go ... usually. A guy like me can't be picking up kids."

"You're Granger Harper!" Pete spoke the name in reverential tones and that got him glance from Granger.

"Grandy! No one calls me Granger. Want a beer?" He asked, cocking his head to one side and examining Pete carefully as he spoke.

"Maybe one. I got to be home at five thirty. Dinner you know."

"What, you think I got nothing to do but drive you around until then? It's not even four."

"I don't know why you stopped. Maybe, I guess," Pete said, noticing the pants and the open zipper quickly as he talked and then he checked the arm holes and finally Grandy's face.

The older boy kept one hand on the wheel and reached into the backseat and inside the six pack cooler behind him. Pete could see the reddish brown hair under his arm and the muscle flexed as he retrieved the beer. They were crossing over the street that led down to Pete's house just then, but he said nothing about going home. He had no interest in home just then.

Grandy brought two silver cans out of the cooler, handing one to Pete.

"You supposed to be drinking during the season?" Pete asked, popping the top on the beer.

"Baseball season? Big deal! I went 0 for 4 today. I came up in the ninth. We were behind 3 to 2. We had runners on first and third. All I had to do was make contact with the fuckin' ball. Keep it on the right side of the infield, and we're tied. Connect solid, we win."

"What happened?" Pete asked in excited anticipation after Grandy drew him into the plot.

"0 for 4 I told you. Struck out," Grandy said with a great degree of despair. "O for fucking four."

"You struck out?"

"Big time, kid. I also fucked up a catch in the seventh inning and that's how they got the lead in the first place. Kramer was pitching. A sure win every time, except when I screw the pooch. There was a college scout at the game. I'm sure he went away impressed. I'm fucked."

"You hit nearly four hundred your junior year. Three errors your whole junior year. That's four hits for every ten times you came to bat. What's up with that?" Pete quizzed.

Grandy held the steering wheel with his fingers at the very top as he looked at Pete who had a clear view of the hair under his arm and the right side of his wide chest. The nipple was the size of a nickel and a very nice pink. It was raised and nicely defined and caused Pete to feel nervous, when Grandy looked to see what he was looking at and then dropped his arm just enough to hide the view and to cause Pete to swallow hard. He didn't want to look but he couldn't help it. Grandy Harper was a god at school and he had stopped to pick him up.

His skin was a pale white with a trace of pink in it and there was a dimple where the muscle bunched at the back of his arm. There were freckles on his arm and his chest, not dark freckles but freckles none the less. Grandy looked at Pete for too long, while he thought about the way the kid was looking at him. The car drifted off onto the right shoulder and he suddenly jerked it back onto the pavement and looked back at the road, acting a little flustered by his lapse.

"Where'd you get the beer?" Pete asked, going back to staring out the windshield.

"I got friends. Just called in a favor. It was in my car after the game all iced down for me."

"Maybe that's why you had a bad day. It can't be good for an athlete to be drinking."

"What the fuck do you know? I don't drink beer every day. Hell, it's the first I've had beer this season. My life is a train wreck, kid, and I needed a break if you don't mind."

Pete sipped the beer and was happy he wasn't going home. He wasn't sure where they were going or why Grandy had picked him up but whatever they did had to be better than home. He didn't get to ride in cars except with his parents. It was a treat to ride with one of the seniors. He admired them and their style and their worldliness but he didn't know any, only by reputation and from a distance.

He knew one day he would be like Grandy but it seemed like it was taking forever to get there. He tried to think of something clever to say but settled for the silence and the fact he was going somewhere with someone neat.

"My girlfriend blew me off last week, the bitch. That's why I needed the beer."

"Oh!" Pete said, knowing nothing about girl problems.

"Oh what? What the fuck do you know? I mean I was that close to getting it and she says, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm a nice girl and there's another dude."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Grandy. I know how a guy like you must need a girl," Pete said sympathetic. "Oh, I understand why you needed the beer. Why your life sucks. That oh."

"Yeah, that's what it does all right, Sucks! Man, I been working that pussy about for forever, you know. You ever been in love, kid?"

"No. I don't think so. If you were working it to get in her pants, that isn't really love is it? Isn't that more about sex?"

"No! You're right. You're pretty smart," Grandy said, chuckling and reaching over to mess up Pete's hair. "So, It was more than the pussy. Don't ever fall in love, kid. That's the Grand's advice to an up and coming stud like you. Women fuck your head up."

"That's why your in slump?"

"Yeah, I been chasing it pretty hard, every night for weeks. I was sure we were almost there. Then she pulls this shit."

"What happened?" Pete asked, watching the other boy's torment and his flat stomach with tiny reddish hairs.

"She said, she met someone more mature. She said, maybe we'd get back together once I grew up some. What a bitch. She said I was too pushy. Wanted it too bad."

"Maybe you can say you're sorry and she'll come back to you."

"Sorry! Sorry? Where do you come from?"

"Back about a mile," Pete said, glancing at Grandy.

"Sorry I'm a red blooded American boy that needs pussy. Not likely, kid. I'm not sorry, maybe sorry I'm not getting it is all."

They stopped at the highway and made the right turn toward Camp Springs.

"Sorry! Right kid. You're a space cadet. Back about a mile. That's a good one. That's where I'm from too when it comes to her. Back about a mile all right. She played me."

"What's that mean?" Pete asked. "How can a girl play The Grand?"

"It means you shouldn't be giving advice on matters you know nothing about. A guy my age has certain needs. Hell, I didn't have no trouble bagging chicks until I met this one and started liking her too much. Until then it was just about getting it and I got plenty. I went over there all ready to rock and roll, and she springs this shit on me."

"I never got any," Pete said. "Never had a girlfriend yet."

"You're virgin kid? Far out. Don't know no virgins."

"I s'pose I'm one of those."

"You too young to jerk off? You ain't that virgin, are you?"

"No!" Pete objected. "Of course I'm not too young to jerk off. I do that plenty. Just never had a girl. I've thought about a few."

"No, you wouldn't be. You still hate girls or you just haven't gotten around to them yet? I know what that's like. It was more fun before I started chasing girls. Guys are easier to ... well, easier, more fun, you know."

"No, I don't hate anyone. Girls are cool. They just don't do anything for me down there is all."

"You're telling me girls don't turn you on. They're a lot cooler when they're putting out. That's for sure."

"I'm only a sophomore. Maybe I'll meet one I like and she'll put out, huh?"

"Well call me when she does and I'll give you a hand. Just kidding, kid."

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," Pete said, admiring Grandy with a smile. "I'm not selfish."

"Well, you'll meet a girl and she'll seem nice, and she'll want to be kissing on you, and one thing will lead to another and then you'll mind. You won't let old Grandy within ten feet of your woman, because you'll know what I'm after. I'd nail her for sure if you gave me a chance. You do know what screwing is, right?"

"I seen pictures," Pete said. Grandy's arm passed in front of Pete as he clicked the button on the glove compartment. The door flopped down and a bunch of dirty books slid across Pete's legs, spilling onto the baseball spikes and the floor.

"That's what I'm left with, kid. Whack the Willie until I find more pussy. Pull the Salami. Spank the monkey. That's what she left me with."

"If you guys weren't already doing it, weren't you like jerking off anyway?"

"Well, sure come to think of it. It's way different when you're getting it or planning on getting it. I mean we made out and all. She jerked me off a few times when she really had me going and wanted to keep me going. She knew how to work me all right. Man, my dicks getting hard thinking about it."

Grandy grabbed his cock through his jock and squeezed while looking down at it. Pete watched him hump his hand two quick times, lifting his ass up so that he could force his hard-on firmly against his hand before realizing Pete was taking it all in.

"That must have been cool. Someone else touching it, huh? I can see why it gets you going."

"You never let no one touch it before? You've been deprived. Don't mind me. I'm terminally horny."

"It's cool. It's not like I can't do that if I want," Pete said, indicating with his head that he was talking about Grandy manhandling him self.

"She let me use the finger when she was in the mood. Over the weekend we were in the backseat and I had her panties down. I had my dick out and we were all but there. My finger was buried and she was riding it like a pro. We were a minute away from me getting in there. I should ah just gone ahead and.... I could have.... I could have."

"Why'd you pick me up?"

"I don't know. Someone to talk to about it. I can't talk to the guys. Shit, they'll put me down. Say its cause I got a small pecker or don't know what to do with it."

"How small is it?" Pete asked.

"Fuck, it ain't small at all. It's plenty big. That's what they'll say if I'm moaning about losing my woman is what I'm saying."

"Why would they say that? How would they know."

"To make me feel bad. To insult me. Rub it in. Don't you know anything about buddies?"

"These are your friends and they see you're hurting and they put you down to make you feel worse or what?"

"Something like that. The way you put it makes it sound bad."

"Why would they do that? Why would you let them? Friends don't make you feel bad. No friends I want anyway."

"It's a guy thing. You don't understand yet. Once you get older you'll see," Grandy said, looking at the boy as he answered. "The thing is, they'd telling me to get over it when they talk about my little dick and not knowing how to use it and all."

"You said it wasn't little," Pete said. "You're confusing me. So is it or isn't it?"

"Well it isn't but they'd say it is. Anyway, I wouldn't tell them just because they'd say that. You're harmless. I just needed to talk to someone that wouldn't spread it around."

"Okay," Pete said, and they looked at each other. "I'm cool with that. You can tell me anything you want. I'll listen."

"You're okay kid. At first I thought you were a little slow. I forgot what it's like being your age and not knowing anything, but you're cool."

"Thanks."

"You need to level out your swing. You upper cut the ball. You don't keep your eye on it."

"What?" Pete asked.

"You use to play on the field behind ours. I saw you playing ball there a couple of weeks ago. I've seen you a couple of times. I'm Centerfield? Puts me out near your home plate. I've watched you bat. I haven't seen you lately, but you're a sucker for a curve kid. You've got to learn to get ahead of the break and keep your eye on it all the way. It's the only way to hit a curve."

"My names Pete. I got cut from the JV on account I was a "sucker" for a curve Coach Jennings said. You watched me?"

"Oh! Sorry. Guess I should have told you sooner about the curve ball. It's not like we get to talk like this often."

"I couldn't hit a lick. You watched me? I didn't know you knew I was alive. You're a senior. I'm a sophomore."

"You figure that out all by yourself, did you? Look, you've got to swing level so you make contact. Power hitters can angle their swing up, but only when they know they'll get the barrel of the bat on the ball. That gives them the lift they need to knock it out. A high average hitter can get on top or up under and tilt the bat to put the ball where he wants it. When you're starting out you got to level off your swing until you learn all those things. I couldn't hit worth shit when I was your age."

"Really?" Pete said hopefully. "The Grand wached me hit! Cool."

"Nah, I was always great," Grandy said and laughed, tossing an empty beer can into the back seat. "Want a beer, kid."

"Nah, I can't drink any more. My name's Pete and my parents would kill me if I came in smelling like beer."

"Yeah, I know, kid. Nothing personal. I'm going to drive out to the old airport, okay? I'll have you back in time for dinner."

"Sure. I got to be back at five thirty though."

"Sure. No problem Pete. I got it covered."

Grandy made a U-turn at the first wide spot in the road and turned at the back road that led to Hyde Field. It was seldom used any longer. Pete finally reached down and picked up a couple of the books he'd been wondering about. He didn't want to seem weird but he didn't get much of a chance to see good books. He sat them on his lap and started turning the pages.

"What's it like?" Pete finally asked, looking through the books for one with a guy's cock buried deep.

"Pussy? Warm, wet, and wild. It's the best Pete. Just never enough to go around. That's why the beer and the books. I have a few beers and look at the books and it's almost like being there, you know."

"Maybe one more would be cool then. I am getting a buzz and the books are getting me ...," Pete said, drinking down the rest of his beer he had in hand as he turning more pages.

"That's the spirit, Pete boy. The power of positive thinking. I knew you were a regular guy."

Pete smiled when he realized Grandy was using his name. It made him feel nice, almost like they were friends. He felt flushed and couldn't stop turning the pages. He hadn't seen any books like these and they were getting him going pretty good or being with Grandy was.

The guys he knew stole stuff from their older brothers and showed it around school but Pete didn't have an older brother, so he only got to see someone else's contraband. He liked these books and being with someone that didn't think he was weird for looking at the pictures.

"These are great," Pete said.

"Shit! You ain't got to the good stuff," Grandy said, tossing several books off Pete's lap and onto the floor until he came to the one he was looking for. "This one is awesome. The babe has bodacious tits. I get hard thinking about them. The guys dick is like mine and so I can really imagine it's me doing it to her."

"Your dick is like his?" Pete asked, looking closely at the erection.

"Yeah, well, that's not what you should be looking at. I mean for me it makes it better."

Once Grandy had the book open he was looking for, he reached into his open pants and squeezed the front of his jock as he stared at the road. Pete watched his hand and could see the bulge building as Grandy squeezed, and the zipper was not two thirds of the way down and reddish hairs were at the sides of the pouch. Pete looked at the fat cock on the page and then back to how Grandy held himself.

"You do it in the car? I mean the books are here?" Pete asked with excitement being present in his voice. "You like... jerk it in here?"

"Yes, I do, Pete, my boy. Don't tell me you can look at these and not hit wood? I'm hard just thinking about looking at that book," Grandy said, squeezing the pouch and hold it in a way that gave Pete an even clearer view of what was growing inside.

"I didn't say that," Pete said. "I mean of course I am. I've just never done it anywhere but at home in private."

"I didn't think so. It's cool though. Nothing to be ashamed of Pete. I do it all over the place. If I get in the mood I just find a quiet spot and pull over."

"You never get caught?"

"No. Almost a couple of times. I get going good and someone comes along and I might not notice. No one has caught me that I know of. Once at school in the parking lot after practice. A guy walked past the car and then kept looking back. I was gong to town so he had to see."

"You finished. I'd freak out if someone saw me."

"Sure I finished. It was even more exciting knowing he'd seen me jerking off. I didn't mind."

"Why from behind?" Pete asked as he watched the guy positioned behind the girl in the picture Grandy opened for him.

"I don't know. It's hot. You get good leverage. Hold onto the tits and ride from behind like a cowboy. Back in the saddle again is good, kid."

"Do you do it that way? That's how you like doing it?"

"Sometimes. Depends on the girl. You got to go with what she wants."

"How old were you the first time?"

"Junior high. I was thirteen. She was sixteen as I recall. I didn't know what I was doing."

"Where'd you meet her," Pete said, looking up from the pictures. "How'd you know she would?"

"In a friends bedroom. He was way older an me. He was on the baseball team too. I think he was fifteen. She liked younger guys for some reason and she wasn't all that old."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Roger Stark. We hung together. He had this girl he was dicking. She came over one day while I was there. We were playing vids or something when she shows up and decides she wants to screw. At first Roger tries to get rid of me but then she says that isn't necessary and there are plenty of ways to spread it around so everyone gets plenty, especially her. So we did."

"She didn't care?"

"Care? She told us what she wanted and we just did it. It was like being in a movie and she was the director. You stick it in here and you stand like this and put it in there."

"What was it like letting your friend watch you? Weren't you nervous letting him see you do it?"

"Nervous? I wasn't worried about him. I was finally doing it. Like it was the greatest. I was fucking, Pete. What do you think it was like?"

"I mean him watching you do it? I'd be nervous."

"Haven't you been in on a circle jerk?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Pete, what do you do with it? I was always in on a circle jerk. I was a regular horn dog when I was your age."

"I'm almost sixteen and I haven't done anything."

"Yeah, well, when I was twelve I was jerking off with my friends to porn tapes. Shit, it was a regular afternoon affair back then. There wasn't anything else to do."

"Does it get better when you're your age?" Pete asked.

"That bat gets bigger but no, it doesn't get any better than that. I still jerk off thing about me and Roger doing her. Don't remember her name though. I do remember being in heaven."

"I've never done anything."

"Shit! I got to take a piss and now I'm all hard up talking about this shit."

"Sorry," Pete said. "It's just that I don't know anything."

"Not your fault Pete. It's what happens. Guys are hard half the time anyway. You just don't have the right friends. You should have known Roger. He would have gotten you laid. He always had chicks."

"Yeah," Pete said. "That's for sure. I need somebody to help me. These are hot books. Now I'm all hard too."

Grandy finished his beer and tossed it in the backseat with the others. He turned right at the first dirt road at the top of the airport hangers. He drove back up under some trees a few hundred yards off the road.

"I got to piss like a race horse," he said.

"Me too," Pete said.

Pete stood at one corner of the front fender and Grandy stood at the other. Grandy let his pants drop to his knees and pushed his jock half way down his thighs, exposing him up to where the shirt was cut at the bottom of his chest. Pete couldn't stop looking at Grandy's sturdy erection. It was white with pink hues that darkened the nearer to the top he looked and the tip shown darkest out from under the skin that half covered half the purplish head.

"You got skin on yours?" Pete observed, with the beer causing him to forget protocol as he stared at his heroes formidable cock.

"You don't," Grandy said. "I was that size my first time, you know. Yours is maybe bigger an mine was."

"Really. You got a big one now," Pete said. "I never seen one hard. Only in books. It's a lot different than the ones in the book."

"You should have seen Roger. Boy had a real slab of meat on him. Couldn't even get my hand around that sucker. He was big."

"You touched it?"

Grandy looked at Pete and Pete's dick, "Sure, told you I was a horn dog back then."

"When's the last time you touched one?" Pete asked.

Grandy spent a long time looking at him, trying to formulate his answer to defuse whatever it was that was going on between them now. He figured the truth was the best idea.

"Last season. I was junior. He was a senior. He had the car and the books. We'd give each other a hand. He was a senior and wanted me to touch him and he wanted to touch mine. He had a big one too."

"I'm small compared to you," Pete said, checking out his erection.

"Plenty big enough to have fun, Pete my boy. You'll find a nice girl and that'll be that."

"You're telling me mine might get that big?"

"Yeah, but that isn't my problem right now. It's never going to go down if I don't piss. I hate this. This is the downside of beer and books."

"Me too," Pete said, before finally concentrating hard enough to start pissing so he could hide his smaller cock.

Finishing first, Pete sat back in the car while Grandy continued his vigil. He noticed Grandy even had freckles on his white round ass and plenty of hair to boot. He had a big crop of dark reddish brown hair around his dick and balls and more brown hair on his legs. As he admired his companion he couldn't help but compare Grandy's erect penis with the ones in the book and then to his own. It was stimulating indeed and only last year he was feeling an older boys cock.

It was somehow comforting to hear that a guy with such a large one had once been his size. The book held little excitement with Grandy almost naked in front of him. He'd seen all the guys naked in the locker room and in the showers, but they were mostly guys his age and didn't offer much excitement for him. Grandy was both older and more mature and that made it hard not to look at him.

He wasn't much with talking to his own friends about such stuff and he avoided the porno parties and the sex charged situations that got them all worked up and excited. It unnerved him when they talked about fucking and their dicks and then bragged about how big or how experienced they were. Somehow it wasn't nearly as difficult with Grandy but Grandy didn't expect him to know anything or to brag about experiences he'd yet to have. This was easier by far than being with his friends.

"Hey, Pete, I'm going to put on my shorts. This things going to bust out of my pants."

Grandy's cock rubbed on the back of the seat as he reached into the back and yanked up a black gym back. He laid his pants on top of his shirt in the backseat. Standing in the doorway with his half-hard cock swinging in the breeze, Grandy continued looking in the gym bag that he sat on the seat.

Pete could see that the skin was completely covering the head now but the head was distinctly showing through the tight white skin that held it. His jock still rested on his thighs and didn't disturb the view. The color of his cock had changed, softened, lighted in color and looked less excited but no less exciting. The hair on his crotch looked quite manly and decorated his crotch well. Grandy never looked up to see if Pete was looking but Pete had no doubt that the jock was where it was so he could look and the story about the boy he played with last year wasn't a story he had told to anyone else. It was all very exciting, as was the smell of the crotch that faced him from only a couple of feet away.

"What are you staring at?" Grandy finally said in gruff voice, looking up out of his bag as he yanked out a silky looking pair of royal blue shorts. "This fuckers are dirty but I can hang free in them."

"I never seen one like yours close up. I mean, in gym class sure but that's with guys my age. You're way big and you got hair everywhere. It's kind of neat, you know."

"Yeah, well, don't get no ideas, sport. I'm a pussy packer for sure these days. I don't wag winnies with little boys any more. You grow out of that once you get my age."

"Grow out of what? I told you I never did anything. Weren't you packing pussy last year when you were doing it with that guy?"

"Yeah, well, that was then. I'm too old to be messing with that shit."

"You said you did it last season."

"Well I ain't going to be diding it with you, so keep your eyes to yourself, okay? You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothin' like that, Grandy. I just never seen one up close is all. Not hard like yours."

"No, I'm sorry. It's cool. No need to explain. Curiosity killed the cat but it's also how we learn the good shit. I guess I'd be staring too if I was seeing a man's cock for the first time. I should a done this in private but you seem cool enough. I don't care if you look."

He pulled on the shorts and tossed his socks in the bag and dropped the bag into the backseat.

"Anymore. You said anymore," Pete was still running through their conversation, picking up on anything that thrilled him.

"Anymore what?" Grandy asked, situating his cock and balls in his shorts as he arranged himself in his seat.

"You don't wag winnies with young dudes "anymore" you said."

"Yeah, you know, circle jerk stuff. You give me a hand. I give you a hand."

"You did that a lot?" Pete said unable to hide the excitement.

"Shit, you're younger than I thought you was. All guys do that!"

"I told you I never did," Pete defended, not knowing how he had missed out on it because the idea was appealing.

"You just ain't got to it yet is all. You will soon enough."

"No," Pete said.

"You caught me a little short here, Pete. You're lucky my girl dumped me last night. I was too pissed to jerk off after that. I was ready to go home and do it. You want to feel it? Just for a minute, now. No engagement parties or nothin' like that but I guess you could feel it."

"Your Penis?" The word hung there for a minute.

"No, kid, my cock. You want to know what a man's cock feels like or don't you? You stared at it long enough and you've never done anything. Now's your chance. I'll help you get your education. Somebody's got to do it."

"You think I should? I mean, isn't that weird to be feeling up another guy?"

Pete was staring at Grandy again. He'd never thought of doing such a thing until he went with Grandy but it didn't seem like a totally bad idea. There was the part of the idea that struck him as odd or wrong, but then there was the excitement that went with the suggestion. His own cock was straining in his pants but he was looking at fuck pictures after all, except he knew that was only half of it. Some of the excitement had come from staring at exactly what Grandy said he could touch. He'd never been so worked up before and that scared him more than a little.

"What, you want an engraved invitation or what?"

"I don't know if I should," Pete said cautiously. "I don't think I'm supposed to."

"Suit yourself," Grandy said too quickly, almost relieved. "You seemed like you wanted to grab it there for awhile. That's okay by me. Give me that top book. I got to take the starch out of this thing before I drive you home," Grandy said boldly. "Fucker's standing up like a trooper again."

Pete sat looking into the next magazine. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Grandy placed his favorite magazine out over his lap. His right hand disappeared under it. The magazine moved as he kept busy feeling himself through his shinny shorts.

"The offer is still open. You can do me more good with your hand than you can by looking at it out of the corner of your eye. If seeing it turns you on touching it might really get you going."

"I would ... but I'm scared. Guys talk about stuff like that. Say bad stuff about guys that touch theirs."

"Yeah, maybe next time," Grandy said, looking at Pete as he held his hard cock through the material so it was hard to miss.

Pete wanted to touch it but not through the shorts. It still worried him and he hardly knew Grandy, even though he knew everything about him. Would there be a next time? And what if there wasn't? What if this turned out to be his one and only chance to feel Grandy Harper's hard dick?


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Two

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"Bean Ball" Copyright © 28 May 2003 OLYMPIA50 All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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