Markwildyr.com, Post #251
This week, we’ll finish the brief saga of Shamus Lazrus Shuttleford, an ordinary guy living an ordinary life… until he sees the neighborhood kid in the back yard engaged in unnatural activities with another boy. So let’s see what he does about it.
* * * *
SHAMUS LAZRUS SHUTTLEFORD
The opportunity to confront
young Timothy about his improprieties didn’t arise until the weekend. Shamus
had just finished mowing the back lawn when Timothy appeared at his fence.
“Want me to edge it for you,
Mr. S?” he asked in a pleasant baritone.
“I wouldn’t mind if you do,
Timothy. I’ll fix some lemonade we can enjoy afterward.”
A wide grin split the youth’s
handsome features. “Deal.”
As he watched Timothy, clad
only in shorts made from cut-off Levis and canvas slippers, Shamus was struck
by how controlled this young man was. More than most eighteen-year-olds, he
wagered. With that realization, came the understanding that Timothy hadn’t been
seduced the other day, he’d willingly collaborated in his debauchery. That
thought was succeeded by another: did those shorts have a zipper or buttons?
Shamus’ cheeks burned with that question. Why had it even crossed his mind?
Keeping an eye on Timothy’s
progress, he appeared on the back porch with a pitcher of freshly squeezed
lemonade the moment the boy put the edger back into the shed. He’d long ago
learned his offer of monetary payment would be spurned, so lemonade was the
substitute.
The boy rinsed his hands in
the tap at the side of shed and dried them on the seat of his jeans before
taking the lounger beside Shamus and accepting a tall, sweating glass of ade.
“Thanks, Mr. S. This’ll go
down easy on a day like this. Hot for May, isn’t it?”
“Unseasonably.”
The boy chatted easily about
school and the Leopards, the high school football team he played for. But he
wasn’t a selfish talker, he laced his description of his days with questions
about Shamus’ family and work at the bookkeeping firm. Pleasant company, Shamus
acknowledged for the ten-thousandth time. Had been since he was in elementary
school. Shamus supposed they’d bonded so well because he was a fair mechanic
and over the years had helped Timothy keep a parade of clunkers running. Likely
why the boy was reluctant to accept payment for his help in the yard.
Eventually, the news of the
week was exhausted, and conversation languished. Now was the proper time to
admonish the lad over his behavior the other day. Even so, Shamus was reluctant
to spoil the pleasant mood.
After a short silence, the boy
speared him with a look. “Anything you want to say to me, Mr. S”
“Beg pardon?”
“I know you saw me in the back
yard the other day. Saw the blinds on your kitchen window close.”
“I… well….”
“I’ve known for a long time
you could see our hidey spot in the back yard. But I thought you’d be at work
that day.”
“I took that afternoon off.”
“My bad luck, I guess.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll say nothing
to your parents. But you should refrain from such actions. It’s… it’s
unnatural.”
“Not according to the research
I’ve read. Lotsa guys do it. Don’t get me wrong. I just let this buddy have his
way every once in a while. Some researchers say masturbation’s healthy.”
Shamus felt his eyes widen.
“That was not masturbation.”
Timothy grinned at him. “No,
it was better. But I don’t let it get out of control. Bert would blow me every
day if I’d let him, but I only let him in every month or so.”
“Timothy, I’m not sure such
conversation is appropriate.”
“Why not? You saw me, so who
else would I talk about it with? Sorry if it offended you.”
“Well… no. Disturbed, maybe.
But offended?” Shamus licked his lips. “I don’t know. My concern was for you.”
“Thanks, Mr S.”
A small silence grew before
Timothy spoke again.
“How about you? What do you
do… you know, for relief? Never see a woman over here. And you don’t go out
much.”
Shamus was certain his ears
were a bright red. He should have been in control of this conversation, but
this teen was taking it where he wanted.
“That is definitely not an
appropriate question.”
“Why not?” Timothy asked. “We’re
friends, aren’t we? Why can’t friends discuss things like that? You know,
intimate things.”
“You should go to your father
for such advice.”
“I’m not asking for advice.
I’m asking how you take care of your need. I know Mom and Dad still go at it,
and you’re no older than they are.”
“Timothy!”
“Sorry. But don’t get me
wrong, Mr. S. I like girls.” A grin grew on the youth’s lips. “A lot. Have some
hot times, you know, enough to get to aching. But never scored. Not yet. Soon,
I hope. And in the meantime, gotta do something to keep the lid on.”
As the boy fell silent, Shamus
grew aware of a heat building in his loins. He lifted a leg to hide a growing
condition.
“Too late,” Timothy said, a
laugh hiding in his voice. “I already saw it.” He indicated the large bulge at
his own groin. “Got to me too. See. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Shamus didn’t know what was
happening to him. Maybe the boy’s voice was hypnotic, his powerful personal
presence too much for Shamus to handle. But whatever it was, he allowed the boy
to talk on. Then he was aware of the boy’s hand touching him. Little Timothy’s
hand—but now, he was big Timothy, a strapping six-footer with wide shoulders,
narrow waist, trim hips and long legs lightly covered in hair.
As he moved his hand to the
youth’s groin, a long-repressed memory emerged from his fogged brain. The
memory of a golden-haired youth with emerald eyes from his youth. Jimmy. Ah,
the things they’d done. The pleasure they’d shared.
Shamus grunted as Timothy’s
fingers attacked his fly.
Sometimes
conversations go awry. I wonder how Shamus will regard this one in the space of
a day or two later. Not certain, but I’m sure of one thing. He’ll remember it
for a long, long time.
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email:
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Twitter: @markwildyr
Now my
mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.
You have something to say, so say it!
See you later.
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