The following story is purely fiction involving fictional individuals of different ages being engaged in sexual acts. Please do not read any further if you believe that this topic may offend you. If you are under the age of 18 or reside in a location where it is not legal to read these stories, then please hit the back button and leave now . If you are of legal age and are interested in said material, please enjoy the following story. Also, I love receiving feedback on my stories, and would love to hear from you! I do my best to answer each and every email I receive, and value your opinion and comments, both good and bad. You may reach me, Austin Charles at the following email: austintc@aol.com. Thank you for reading my story!
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Carter and the Biker Boy
Chapter 11
I didn't realize how tired I was until I got home, put my bike in the garage, grabbed the mail and the free weekly newspaper we always got every Friday. I hadn't been home since Thursday, and I had forgotten to turn the A/C on in the house, so it was warm and humid inside. Thankfully, our central air would cool the house down quickly. I flipped the thermostat thingy on and the thing started pushing out cold air. Soon the house would be nice and cool. I went into the kitchen, and it was indeed a mess, and the living room wasn't much better. I hadn't done dishes in about a week -- in fact, I hadn't done any dishes since Mom had left. Looking at the cleaning I'd have to do before Mom got home tomorrow, I got so tired that I just went to my room, flopped on the bed, and quickly fell asleep.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep, but it was a deep, dreamless sleep for what seemed like hours. My sleep was interrupted by my cell phone buzzing, letting me know I had a text message. With one eye barely open I grabbed the phone and saw the text was from Dylan.
< Hey Carter-man.
< Hey Dylan. Whats up?
< Why'd you leave so early dude? Thought we could hang today.
< I know. I have stuff to do at home. Mom comes home today.
< Really..thought that was tomorrow.
< She got an early flight.
< What time she come home?
I lied and told him 6 pm tonight . < Can I stop by in about an hour?
I pondered my response, but I know that seeing my biker boy would make me happy I agreed to let him stop by. Plus, I had to ask him about last night.
< Yeah, sure. See you then.
< Great! See you then . It was killing me to know why he called me Dayne last night when he... well, you know. Or was it just a very strange yet awesome sexual dream that I imagined? It couldn't have been. No way! When I went to the bathroom, the evidence was revealed. Oh well. In the meantime, I'll just lay here in my extremely comfortable bed for just a few minutes more.
A few minutes turned into about sixty, because I was awoken by the sound of the doorbell. It scared the crap out of me, and I shot right up out of bed to see who was at my door. It was Dylan, looking hotter than ever, wearing the same biking outfit that he wore the day that I first met him after his accident in front of my house.
"Oh hey Dylan, come in. Man, it's hot outside today," was all I could think of to say. "When do you have to go to your party?" I inquired, as he seemed distant.
"Oh, yeah. Um my mom is going to drop me off around six. I still have five hours. So what you up to?"
"Um, not much. Just thought I'd better get the house cleaned up before my mom gets home this evening." I lied once again, and he challenged me on it.
"But I thought she wasn't getting home until tomorrow?"
"Change of plans, I guess. She was trying to get an earlier flight so she could, um, you know, rest up tomorrow."
"Oh, okay. So is it like okay that I came over today?" Dylan inquired, suddenly no longer seeming like so confident in knowing that I'd want him here.
"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. I don't have to go anywhere, you know, I just have to clean the kitchen."
"Cool, because I thought we could spend a little fun time together before she gets home. I want to finish what we started at the park and didn't get a chance to do last night." At first I felt my body tense up with excitement of knowing that I'd get another chance to feel my biker boy give me what I longed for, but then when he said that he didn't get a chance to do anything last night, I felt a wave of uneasiness creep over me. I had to say something about what happened while I was asleep and called me Dayne, but I didn't know just how to approach him. So I just more or less blurted it out, minus the Dayne part.
"But, I thought that you did do it to me, in the middle of the night last night?" He was taken aback by my statement.
"Dude, I um am pretty sure I didn't. I didn't even hear you get up and leave this morning. I think I would have remembered if we did it last night. But you're saying I did?"
So I told him about the dream I was having and then how it was his voice and that he kept calling me Dayne.
"Whaaaat? Calling you Dayne? Why would I call you that name? Dude, you were just dreaming. Sounds like a heck of a cool wet dream, Carter-man. Now you have me really turned on by your dream, and I want to make up to you what we didn't do last night." He truly did believe that it wasn't him who screwed me last night. In fact, now he almost had me believing it. Anyway, I shrugged it off as being not a big deal, especially when he pulled me close to him and started rubbing my shoulders with his strong big hands.
"Come on, just let's have some fun. This is probably going to be one of the last times we can get together before school starts. Soccer practice starts on Monday for me, and then in two weeks school starts. You know you want me, don't you, little dude? " And as he pulled me close to him, my head on his muscular pecs, I could feel the sweat on his biking shirt and his dick rock-solid hard against my chest. His scent was mixed with his sweat and some Axe cologne, and it was the best smell I've known in my young life. He knew me too well. I did want him now, as my own dick was straining to get loose from my tight fitting boxer briefs. But what happened next took me by surprise. There was a change in his tone of voice, and a change in his attitude that began to scare me, but I still did as he told me to do.
"Let's go to your room, and you can take your clothes off so I can see you." I did as he told and seconds later, I was naked in front of him. "Now, pull my shorts down and lick my thighs." I did as he told me, and he was wearing a black jockstrap that barely concealed his upcurved dick and full, hairy balls. I did as he told me and as I began to lick his thighs inches away from the jock strap, he grabbed the back of my head and pushed me into the jockstrap.
"Show me how much you want my dick in your ass. Lick and suck that jockstrap like you want it so bad." Again, I did as he instructed me. The heat coming off the jockstrap was amazing; the musky scent of his sweaty jock was turning me on like never before.
"That's it, Carter-man. You want my dick, don't you? Say it. Say I want your dick, Dylan." He instructed me with a voice of authority now, pulling my hair and head back from his jock so he could look into my eyes.
"I -- I, um, yeah, I want your dick in my --" He cut me off before I could finish saying where I wanted him.
"I said to say, `I want your dick, Dylan!' Now say it right!" Now I was getting a bit nervous, but if this was a game he was playing, I was getting into it and figured I'd better play along.
"I want your dick, Dylan. I want your dick, Dylan. I WANT YOUR DICK DYLAN!" I said a little louder each time, even though my words were muffled by his hand holding my face into his jockstrap, which was now wet with my saliva.
"That's more like it. Now if you want it so badly, pull my jock strap down and take me into your mouth. Get that dick all nice and slobbery so it'll be ready for your tight ass." I wasted no time pulling his jockstrap down to his ankles, and as his dick sprung loose, I quickly grabbed it by the base and pulled it to my mouth. A string of precum stretched from his wet head to his thick bush of dark pubes, and as I took him in my mouth, a stream of precum began to flow into my mouth, its taste salty and sweet, making his dick slippery and causing him to moan.
"OH yeah, Carter, that it's. That feels so fucking good. Keep sucking that dick." I did for about five minutes or so. I wanted to touch my own dripping dick, but as he saw my hand move toward my dick, he stopped me and firmly told me not to. "Not until I say you can touch yourself. Then you can. But now you need to keep sucking."
My knees were getting sore, and I was nearly gagging each time he forced his dick deeper into my throat. Even still, I was enjoying every minute of sucking on Dylan's huge dick, but I was getting really nervous of what was yet to come. Finally, as his breathing increased, and his dick seemed to get harder yet while still leaking copious amounts of precum, I thought he was going to cum, but instead he told me to get up and bend over on the edge of my bed. Now on the edge of my bed with my butt in the air, I waited for the next instruction from Dylan. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
"Don't answer it. Don't you dare move, Carter." Dylan whispered in a serious authoritative voice. My phone was on the bed, and I quickly pulled up the outside cam on the security app both Mom and I have installed on our phones. It was my Tio Javier who was standing outside. "It's my Tio Javier, Dylan. I have to answer the door. He has a key to the house, and he will come in and find us. I can't have that happen again." I heard him mutter `fuck' under his breath and he then instructed me to answer the door but told me to make him leave. That would be impossible, I thought to myself.
I quickly grabbed my basketball shorts from the floor by the doorway to my room, pulled them on as my dick had now gone limp in fear of not knowing what my tio wanted. As I opened the door, he was just reaching for his keys to unlock the door.
"Hola Tio!" I nervously said, shaking his hand as he pulled me into a hug on the front porch.
"Como estas, Mijo?" (my son - a name he always called me). I replied that I was well. "Tu mama va a llegar mañana del D.F., verdad?" he asked, wondering when my mom was going to get home tomorrow from el Distrito Federal, commonly known to us as Mexico City.
"Si, Tio. Ojala que ella estare aqui mañana por la tarde. Necesitamos comprar cosas para mis clases y ropa nueva. No hay mucho tiempo mas antes el primera dia de la escuela." I told him that I needed things for school including new clothes, and that I had hoped that she would return tomorrow afternoon.
"Ah, verdad, Mijo. Si necesitas algo, tu tia puede ayudarte." I knew my aunt would be more than willing to help me, even if Tio Javier had volunteered her services without her knowing.
"Gracias, Tio. Vas a cortar el pasto?" I figured he was here to cut the lawn, but I thought I'd ask just to be sure.
"Si Mijo, Javecito ya esta atras." I wondered why I hadn't seen Javy out by the truck. He had already started cutting the lawn in back of the house. It was a huge relief to know that my Tio was treating me like he did before he caught Javy doing me in Javy's bedroom. I had hoped it would stay that way, because I really had fun staying with Javy while mom and mis tios were in Mexico. So that was a relief, but now I had a bigger concern as my Tio asked me if I was home alone. It was as if he sensed my nervousness and asked me if everything was okay.
"Si Tio, todo esta bien, mi amigo Dylan esta aqui conmigo." I explained to him that I was okay, and my friend Dylan whom he had met before was here.
"Quien es este muchacho?" I tried again to explain to him who he was, but all he responded with was that did my mom know him and was it okay for him to be in our house while she was not at home. I responded to him that it was, that she knew him and would be fine with him here.
Satisfied that I was okay and that I had not let an axe murderer in the house, he told me that he had best get mowing as he had seven more client's lawns to mow today. As he walked away, he told me to be careful and then said in English, loud enough for Dylan to hear:
"Tell your mom to call me when she gets home tomorrow."
"I will Tio. Tell Javy to call me later, okay?" He agreed, and waved goodbye, just as Javy emerged from the garage side of the house. His long curly jet black hair was nearly touching his dark, tanned shoulders, his back wet with sweat from mowing; his white soccer shorts not doing a great job of concealing his dick. How I longed to be back with him, and maybe not so much with Dylan, with the way he was treating me this afternoon. Javy waved as my tio started the big mower, and I waved back, making the hand motion to call me later. He nodded his head in agreement and walked to the truck. I went back in the house and hoped the Dylan would have changed and was back to being the kind and friendly big brother type friend I had come to know and really like. But instead, the same tone of voice greeted me.
"So your mom isn't coming back until tomorrow, huh? You lied to me Carter." Dylan startled me as I locked the front door to find him almost right behind me in the living room, wearing nothing but his socks and shoes.
"Time to go back to your room, Carter. Where did we leave off before we were interrupted by your uncle?"
"You were just about ready to leave?" I asked while laughing a bit as I said the word `leave'.
"No Carter, you were on the edge of your bed, ready to give me what I want, weren't you?"
I couldn't lie, I did want him, but not in this manner. I wasn't sure how to respond. He was acting angrier than he was the first time he saw me look at his shorts when I was putting the bandage on the wound on his inner thigh when he collided with the car in front of our house earlier in the summer. I nodded that I was on the edge of my bed, ready to give him what he wanted. But I also had to stall him in case Tio Javier or Javy rang the doorbell again, or worse yet, came in the house. So if I could wait a few minutes longer, they would be gone. I told him that I needed a glass of water, and he followed me into the kitchen, and waited as I slowly drank my water. I looked out of the front window in the kitchen just in time to see my Tio pull out of the driveway, turn left, and headed down East Drive to his next job. Dylan then forcefully put his right hand on my shoulder and guided me to my room.
"Okay, let's do this NOW." He said in a determined voice. "Get on the edge of the bed. I said EDGE of the bed, Carter!" And grabbing me by my shoulders, he pushed me down on the bed, then quickly pulled my shorts down to my ankles to reveal my bare butt. "Oh yeah, that's what I want. Look at that cute ass. And it's going to be mine real quick. But first you're going to like this, and you will be begging me for my dick."
He spread my legs apart and in one motion buried his face into my hole, his tongue darting first around the hole, then he began to lick it like it was an ice cream cone.
The feeling was like nothing I'd felt before. My dick automatically sprang to life, was hard in seconds, and the feeling of him licking my hole had me almost ready to beg for his big dick to be in me.
"Oh fuck yeah Carter, your hairless hole tastes good. But as much as I'd like to keep licking, it's time for you to take me inside you. Dylan stood up, and with one quick motion I felt his hot, wet, precum and spit lubed dick head press hard into my hole, breaking my tightness and in one swift motion he buried it deep inside me until I felt his pubes and sack against my skin. "Oh fuck Carter, that feels great!" I wasn't ready for him to force it in so fast, and as the pain shot through my entire butt, I screamed into my sheets and blanket on my bed, and felt tears start to form in my eyes.
"That hurts, Dylan, please pull it out!" I cried out loud, but he just told me to relax and to wait a minute until the pain subsided. I tried, and after a moment or two of deep breathing, my butt got used to his size and surprisingly, as the pain went away, feeling his hot dick inside me again caused the pleasure start to return. He asked if it was better, I nodded that it was, and he began to move his dick in and out of my hole.
Whatever immense pleasure I got from him being in me last night in his bedroom was now replaced with not only pain and an uncomfortable feeling, but fear of wondering how badly he was going to fuck me. I remembered how the guy in the video Javy showed me mercifully punished the other guy, and I was afraid Dylan would do the same to me. My only thought was to act like I was enjoying it enough and that maybe he would cum quickly. So I started moaning and tried to match his in and out movements with movements of my own. It began to work, and the moaning seemed to turn Dylan on more, as I could feel his dick get harder. With all my energy and might I continued to fuck him more than he was fucking me, and as I tried to squeeze my butt muscles around his dick, I felt his breathing increase and finally as he was about to blow his load inside me, he pulled out just in time to shoot his load all over my bare back, in my hair, and on the sheets in front of me. Little did I know that as I was riding and fucking him, I shot a huge load of cum on the side of the bed and onto the hardwood floor of my room. Dylan started laughing a little, and quickly rolled me over on my back, his cum now transferred from my back to my sheets.
"You were fucking great, Carter. Oh, I see you came too. You little bottom bitch! You liked that as much as I did, didn't you?" All I could do was nod my head yes, just trying to agree with him so he would leave. But instead, he pulled me by my hair and forced me down to my knees and stuck his dick by my mouth and told me to open up. At first I shook my head no, but he pulled my hair more and forced my face into the base of his dick, and as he pulled his dick down to my mouth, I took him in my mouth and nearly gagged at the taste of it. As he moved it in and out of my mouth, he got hard again. Now I was afraid he would fuck me again, but he kept punishing my mouth for like five minutes or so, and finally he tensed up as his dick got really hard and big as he shot a small load of cum in my mouth. I tried not to swallow it, but he kept his dick inside my mouth by holding my head tightly against him. I had no choice but to feel the hot, pungent tasting cum slide down my throat into my stomach. Now I really felt used and abused, and totally felt like throwing up.
I really did not like this version of Dylan whatsoever. He scared me. Finally, after sitting on the side of my bed looking at my cum on the floor, he got up and began to put his clothes on.
"I gotta go. Hope you liked feeling my big dick in your tight ass, and that load I shot into your mouth. I know it sure felt good for me. So hey, I am not sure when I'll see you again. Been fun. I'll let myself out. Good luck at school if I don't see you before. And hey, this didn't happen, so if you know what's good for yourself, you better NOT tell ANYONE at school about this. Got it?"
With tears now streaming down my face, my mind full of confusion and disbelief over what had just happened, I got up from my bed, slipped on my shorts just in time to see Dylan walk out the front door of the house, hop on his bike and ride down the street to the bike path that led to his house.
*** I am not sure which pain was worse. Was it the physical pain I felt from how Dylan had just used me, or was it the mental anguish due to the fact of how he was so mean and hurtful with his words and actions towards me? Either way, both made me feel miserable.
I cried for the better part of an hour, trying to come to terms with his actions. It made no sense how he was so nice to me one moment like he was yesterday, which was almost the best day of my life. We had so much fun together, and I truly thought he was becoming my best friend. And then the next moment he denied fucking me last night in his room, and then he came here to my house and was so angry and rough. What bothered me even more was that all the while he was being mean to me like that, part of me was scared to death, but another part of me, somewhere deep inside greatly enjoyed being used and being told what to do sexually. All I knew was that for once in my life something inside made me fight back by not just lying there, and instead figuratively standing up to his attack by me fucking him, making him cum rather than him having his way with me. Even though there was pleasure by what he did, and I did cum too, my tortured hole was very, very sore.
I fell into a dreamless sleep again, and when I woke up it was dark outside. I couldn't move for fear of the deep ache in my bowels again. As I laid in my bed, I checked my phone for messages, and there were none. I thought just maybe Dylan might have texted me, but he did not. Neither had Javy. It was almost 9 pm, so he probably would not call me. Finally, I got up out of bed, and took a nice hot shower. My butt hole felt stretched and was very tender to touch. I put on a pair of basketball shorts, a tee shirt and made myself some mac and cheese.
I didn't realize just how hungry I really was. The mac and cheese tasted great, and I nearly ate the entire pan that I'd made. Some of the pain had begun to subside, but I was still quite sore. As I sat watching another episode of "Love, Victor" on Hulu, the entire time spent with Dylan passed through my mind. With everything that had transpired since he invited me to spend a few days with him at his house, it seemed as if he really enjoyed being with me, and likewise, I enjoyed spending time with him. But then it only started to make sense that he was essentially using me to get what he really wanted -- what he got from me today. Which was weird, but anyway the answers just could not come to me.
I ended up watching two episodes of "Victor" and then decided to go to bed. The past two days had been eventful enough, and if anyone texted me later, too bad. I was going to bed. Almost immediately, I fell into a deep sleep, did not dream, and slept all they way until the filtered sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window. Looking at my phone, the time was only 6:30 am. I could have tried to go back to sleep, but it was too light in the room, so I got up and started cleaning. By almost 10 am I had the house cleaned up, and so I decided to take a bike ride. Mom texted me at 11 saying that her plane was just getting ready to taxi down the runway. My best guess was that she would be home by 8 pm later in the evening.
It was another beautiful day, almost a carbon copy of yesterday. I rode my usual route, which was south down through Shorewood Park to the YMCA, then turned around and rode north back past my house to the forest preserve district office, which was about four miles north of my house, where I sat drinking some water at a park bench that overlooked the small lake.
As I sat there soaking up the late morning sun, several groups of people walked by, as well as an older guy with what appeared to be his young son. The boy looked to be about 10 or 11, and the dad was so proud of him for making it up the hill without stopping. The little boy was beaming with joy at his dad's approval. The dad looked at me several times and I just smiled at him. He smiled back at me, and just like that they mounted their bikes and continued on their ride. A few minutes later I noticed that they had stopped at another part where you can ride right down to the shore of the lake. They were both skipping rocks across the water. The boy must have skipped his first rock as I could hear the dad congratulating him as he gave his son a "high five". It was then that I really wondered what it would have been like if my dad would have been in my life. Would I still be the same person I am today, or would I have been different?
I often wondered how it would have been to have a male role model in my life other than my Tio Javier. Yes, as my godfather, Tio Javier was good to me, remembered me on my birthday, and always helped out if we needed money. But he wasn't my father. Seeing that boy with his dad made me wonder if my own dad would have accepted me as a gay son anyway. Probably not, I thought to myself. My ponderance only added to my melancholy mood, and for the first time since Mom had gone to Mexico to be with my abuelita, I began to feel very, very alone. Before I had another crying episode like I had at home last night, I got up from the park bench, pressed play on the music app on my phone, got on my bike and started the ride back home. About a mile into the ride, alongside the baseball diamonds in Sportscore park, a song came on and the lyrics made me stop and wipe the tears from eyes that would not stop flowing:
"I thought that I've been hurt before But no one's ever left me quite this sore Your words cut deeper than a knife. Now I need someone to breathe me back to life."
The song, "Stitches", is by one of my favorite artists, Shawn Mendes. As I tried to compose myself, looking to my right of course there was a baseball game being played by guys Dylan's age. I didn't think it was his team that was playing, but of course as I watched the batter swing at the next pitch and hit it way over the centerfield wall, several people in the stands were cheering and I'm pretty sure I heard someone say "Awesome hit, Dylan!" Ironically as I got back on my bike and started riding away, I glanced to the field in time to see the batter (Dylan?) look out at me on my bike. It was all the more reasons to ride away as fast as I could.
As I crossed the parking lot on the southern edge of the soccer fields, I glanced to my right at the field where Javy pushed me into the goal post, which resulted in my broken leg back in May. This also put me further and deeper in my depressed state of mind as I reflected back on everything that had happened to me since May. I continued biking for about a half a mile to the picnic shelter, which was located at the southwest corner of the park along the bike path. It was a good parking spot to drink some water and try to calm myself down, but to no avail. I just needed to get it out, as my emotions had reached a bursting point, and the dam waters were going to let loose. Thankfully, no one was there, or so I thought.
I had been there about five minutes crying my eyes out when the dad and his son that I'd seen by the lake came riding up on their bikes around the western side of the shelter, surprising me just as much as I had surprised them. The boy quickly asked the dad why the other boy was crying. So of course, the dad started to talk to me.
"Hey buddy, are you okay, are you hurt?" he asked, in a calm and caring voice; his son seemed scared that I was crying.
"Oh, sorry, sir. I'm okay. I'm not hurt, physically. I'm just, um, going through a hard time right now. But I'll be okay." I really didn't want to tell my life story to some stranger in the park, even if he did have his kid with him.
"Are you sure? I mean, it's okay if you need to, um, talk or anything? I'm a school counselor and am a good listener."
Great, I thought to myself. Just what I need, another do good counselor thinking they have the answers to all of my problems. I'm sure he had good intentions, but right now talking about my gay problems is the last thing I felt talking about, even to a counselor.
"I'm okay, sir. M-m-maybe at some point I will be ready, but sorry, just not right now."
"Sure, no problem. I understand. Sometimes it is very difficult being a teenager, or a boy who is about to become a teenager. It always helps to talk to someone like a mom or a dad if you have a question or problem. But if that's not possible, your school should have a trusted counselor you can go to. If I can ask, are you going in to... seventh grade?"
"No," I said sort of angrily. I hated it when people took me for someone younger. "I'm actually going to be a freshman at Harlem this year. I start in a couple of weeks." Just talking made me feel a bit better. At least my crying had stopped, although my nose was still running.
"Oh, sorry. So you're just like me. I was the smallest kid in my class in grade school and for most of high school. I get what you might be going through. Thankfully, my boy Jake here took after his mom's side of the family and is growing up quicker than I did at his age." Glancing at Jake he appeared to be almost as tall me.
"So Harlem, eh?" He asked. "Well, I am at Harlem, so if you're okay with it, I'll give you my card, and feel free to stop in and see me anytime once school starts. I'll help you with whatever I can -- no questions asked, and the advice is always free." He then handed me his card. Mr. John Olsen was his name. "Okay young man, If you're okay, Jake and me are going to continue our ride. That number on the card is my cell number, so call me anytime if you need anything. Okay?"
"Sure thing, sir. Thank you." As they rode away, the boy named Jake in the lead, I kind of felt better, but the thoughts about my own dad flooded into my mind momentarily, but dried up just as fast as they flowed in. I took a deep breath, hopped back on my bike, and began to ride home.
Maybe it would be worth talking to a counselor, I thought as I rode along the path, riding past the limestone table where Dylan and I...well, you know. The guy seemed nice enough, but would I want him to know about me? Would I want to come out as a gay teenager once I got to high school? Would he tell my teachers about me, and would other students find out and make my life an even greater living hell? So many unanswered questions in my mind which was already clouded by so many issues that were becoming so overwhelming for me to deal with. As I was stopped at the lights on Riverside Boulevard waiting for the light to change for me to safely cross the road, I reached in my front right shorts pocket to feel for Mr. Olsen's card, but little did I know that after I accidently left it on the table at the shelter, a gust of wind blew through the shelter, carrying the card with it, throwing it a good fifty feet away from the picnic table into the deep woods that were located alongside the shelter, not to be found anytime soon.