Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2017 22:58:11 -0400 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: Appreciating the arts (chapter 1) I was wandering the aisles of my local, independently-owned art supply store. This is a college town, which is why such a wonder can even exist, and I try to help whenever I have need of something like candles or office supplies or pens. That's about all I can do, because I am definitely NOT an artist. However, I can appreciate art when I see it, and as I rounded one corner I saw a couple of guys who looked like they belonged in a performance piece. One of them was tall -- well over six feet -- and dressed in a tight-fitting hat, a jacket the material of which I could not identify because it was painstakingly ripped to shreds and reassembled with safety pins, and black cargo pants covered with marker-scrawled messages. I guessed he was around 22, despite the glint of braces in his mouth (more and more adults have them these days), but his companion was clearly in his teens. His dark blond head was bare, showing hair long enough to cover his ears in an emo style; he had on a t-shirt but whatever was below the waist was enough for me to look twice. Was that tights? Not exactly tights, as some portions of the garment was dangling from his waist. They were a curious sight, and also not hard on the eyes, which is why I browsed the aisles in a wide circuit to get a better look at them both. Peering through a spinning rack of greeting cards, I watched them talking and looking at merchandise; they were either working on a stage set or making costumes, by the look of it. It was early September, which is why I didn't think this was Halloween planning, but one never knows. At one point the smaller one pulled up the dangly bits of his lower garment over his torso, revealing a tuxedo-shirt print. It was a morph suit! How random, I thought to myself. Also, how nicely it hugged his backside. I noticed that because as I watched, he'd turned away, making it easy to see. Then, I realized he was looking over his shoulder, right at me. I'd been spotted checking him out, and he was POSING for me! Damn! I quickly went back to intently studying the label on some sculpting clay, and the small one went on chatting with the big one and roaming the aisles. The way they interacted made me reassess how old the taller one was: I decided that they were school friends, probably in the same grade. I'd been made, but not in a hostile way, and I wanted to know more. There followed a game of cat and mouse, with me trying to escape notice while ogling the pair, and the smaller of the two trying to be noticed without making it obvious. I could tell that his taller friend was aware of what was going on; they'd whisper together from time to time and then emo boy would glance in my direction. Several times he showed off his rear when he realized I was in good position to enjoy it. I caught myself reaching to rub my crotch when he caressed one cheek while bending over purportedly to inspect some games on the bottom shelf; no need to get caught and branded a perv. Eventually I realized that this would not result in anything more interesting; I took my purchases up to the register and still managed to end up behind the pair. The tall one took a call, and then told his friend that plans had changed and his mother was picking him up outside in a moment. I learned two things from the exchange: that the little one was named Danny, and that they were definitely both young enough to need rides from mothers. Danny's tall friend left without buying anything, but Danny, right in front of me, had some paints and whatnot. Unfortunately for Danny, when he counted out his bills he was about three dollars short. The clerk suggested he put something back, but he was clearly reluctant to do so. Opportunity was knocking, and I opened the door wide. Plunking a fiver on the counter, I said, "Will this cover the difference?" Danny looked over, saw who was being generous, and uttered a soft "thank you" as he accepted the bill. He nodded again as he moved towards the door, packaged purchases in hand. I saw that the dangling sleeves of his morph suit swayed along with his hips. I paid for my own things, and when I emerged into the light of day, I heard a familiar voice say, "Hey." I looked to my right, where Danny sat on a street bench. "Hey yourself," I said, sitting beside him. "Thanks again for the favor," he said. "I'm Danny." "No problem, Danny. I'm Dustin." I extended my hand, and he took it limply. Gay or straight, I wish more people would teach their kids how to shake hands firmly, and maintain eye contact when they do it. Danny had neither skill. "Your friend left in a hurry," I said. "Yeah. I guess he forgot his mom wanted him for something. We were going to work on our project at the library and then get a ride home." "Was his mom the ride home?" "Kinda." "Were you gearing up to ask me for a ride instead?" "Kinda." "I'm a complete stranger." Danny shook his head. "I know your name," he said, "and you didn't want something in return for that money." He thought about it again, and added, "Did you?" "I'll give you a ride home because I said I would," I replied. Feeling bolder than I probably should have, I added, "You don't have to give me anything, but I'll be sure to be grateful if you decide you want to anyway." Without looking at my face, Danny said, "I also like the way you look at me." "You seemed like you wanted me to look more in the store," I said, then admitted, "I liked looking." "You want to see more," he said. It wasn't a question. "Consent is sexy as hell," I returned. "I want to see whatever you want to show me, and that's it." "I would show you my full morph suit, but not here on this bench. That would be awkward. Where can we go?" He looked me directly in the eyes, now. "I live alone," I told him, "and not far." "Then I'm in the mood for you to give me a ride now," Danny said. I think he intended for me to imagine him riding my cock. I might have been projecting. Either way, he succeeded. "If you want to stop by your place first, that's okay." My mouth dry, I just got up and made an exaggerated walk-this-way sort of gesture, leading Danny to my car. There was still about ten minutes left on the meter, I noticed as I unlocked the doors. "Nice," he said as he sat down on the fabric seat of my Honda. "Really?" I said, skepticism obvious in my voice. He shrugged. "Just being polite." I laughed as I pulled away, and he joined in. We were there in under five minutes. "You weren't kidding about not living far," Danny said. His voice sounded like it had probably changed, but was still on the high end of the register. I liked it, the way some people like wind chimes. I led him inside, offered him a seat and a drink. "Actually, can I go to your bathroom?" he asked. Easy request! I poured water for us both anyway and when Danny returned, I was just setting down the glasses. I looked up, and if they weren't both already on the table I might have dropped them. Danny was now completely wearing his morph suit, and it was pretty clear he wasn't wearing much else. The tuxedo shirt print I'd spied was across his chest, but otherwise the suit was entirely black: his arms, head, legs, and wherever. It clung to him, but made it difficult for me to see the details of his slender form. Perhaps sensing my wishes, Danny walked to the table, bending over at his waist in front of me to reach for one of the glasses of water. There was no mistaking how tightly the fabric clung to his tight little cheeks and lean thigh muscles, and I may have caught a glimpse of bulge between for a moment. He stood up straight and drank some of the water straight through the mask. I laughed with delight. "I didn't know you could drink through those!" I exclaimed. "Oh, sure," Danny answered, his voice strangely disembodied through the black, featureless mask. "I just have to be careful that whatever I drink doesn't stain." "No grape juice, then," I said, looking him up and down. "Nope," he said. Setting the glass down, he sat back on my couch, his legs spread and longer than I remembered them being. The way the fabric clung to him now, I was sure he wasn't wearing anything underneath. I joined him on the couch, and ran my hand up the outside of his thigh past his waist and halfway up his ribs. "This feels nice," I said. "Feel wherever you like," he replied. The mask made him sound more confident, or maybe his voice was just deeper from lust; whatever it was, I liked it. I liked it even better when I followed those instructions. My fingers traced up his ribs; he trembled slightly, though from ticklishness or something else I could not tell. When they wandered back down to his waist he no longer had a bulge between his legs: there was no mistaking the hard cock which pushed the slick fabric outwards. I ignored that area for the moment, touching instead down the outside of Danny's thigh. The feeling of his body's warmth and firmness without actually touching skin was incredibly erotic and at the same time maddening. I squeezed his thighs and reached around to grab his buns, as well. I stroked up and down his chest, and along his inner thighs. I rubbed my chin under his arm and sucked his hidden nipple, breathed heavily on his neck and nibbled his ear, all the while studiously avoiding the one spot he clearly wanted me to touch. It was fucking hot. It was also fast pushing me past the edge, without either of us getting our penises touched in the process. Covered in the skintight outfit multiplied how erotic my touching of Danny's body was for both of us; his thrashing made it clear the boy was getting at least as much out of my ministrations as I was. Apparently unable to take any more, he grabbed my roaming hands and then mounted my lap. He rubbed up against my chest, but directed my hands behind him. I could feel him spread apart the velcro fasteners, and I allowed him to drag my hands to the opening and touch his skin for the first time. He felt hot and dry. Danny slid the suit down over his buttocks, and my hands followed the same track. As my fingers reached his hole, he spread the cheeks wide. When I gently probed in response, he squeezed and pushed against my fingertip. Meantime, his hands reached down farther, seeking my zipper. I couldn't bear the clumsy attempts, and quickly ripped open my pants, yanking them down my thighs even as the strangely-masked and silent boy hovered above me. My hands on his ass was still the only point of skin to skin contact, but he rubbed his lycra-covered cock against my own before taking it in one gloved hand, lining up the head with his tight hole. I knew it was tight enough to keep my finger out except up to my first knuckle, and I couldn't get any lube without moving this vision of art in motion. I wasn't sure if I could do what he clearly wanted even with a generous dose of slippery, either. "Have you done this before?" I asked. "Without lube?" "Would that hurt?" he asked, his voice breathy. "Probably, but some people are into that." "Real people, or just dudes in bad porn stories online?" he asked, sarcasm now creeping into his voice. "I want you to fuck me, not kill me. Get some lube." Aching for him, I instead just picked up his slight form and rushed him into the bedroom. Depositing him somewhat gently on the mattress, I reached into the bed stand drawer for the tube we both sought. Instead of greasing up a finger for him, I slathered my swollen head and rubbed it into his cleft, sliding my frenulum across his anus, back and forth and around and around until I was nearly to the point where I would have to stop if I didn't want to just spray all over his sexy spandex. Danny was getting into this prep work, lifting his thighs and trying to shove me deeper by thrusting at me like an upside-down frog. As I was about to suggest we slow down, he froze with a yip that was cut off when he stopped breathing, and then resumed as a high-pitched moan as he shuddered into movement again. I looked down and realized semen was oozing through the morph suit. Already on the brink, there was no chance I could hold it back when I realized how easily I had gotten him to cum. If I'd used more than an inch, it was a lot. How much more would he like it once he was ready for a deep dicking? I thrust against his hole, sliding across his covered crotch as I let myself be taken by orgasm. As the spasms of pleasure subsided, I allowed myself to relax on top of the boy. We lay together for either forever or just a fleeting moment, or maybe it was both. Eventually, he made to get up and headed quickly to the bathroom when I freed him from my weight. I straightened my clothes a bit as I waited, and when the door opened he was dressed normally again, or at least as normal as one can dress using a morph suit. "Can you drop me off now?" he asked. "Sure," I said, and he headed directly to the car. I followed his directions and pulled into a bus stop half a block from his house. "Is this good-bye?" I said, not at all sure, because he'd said nothing about the sex and I couldn't tell how he was feeling about it. As he opened the door, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "No, silly, it's art." ________________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed the preceding work of fiction, please consider donating to Nifty. 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