Little Jimmy Grows Up

"You gonna cum?" Tom asked when he saw me intensify my stroking, and when I nodded, he surprised me by suggesting that I cum on him.

"Of course, you'l have to clean it up afterward," Tom reminded me.

"Anywhere?" I grunted. "Can I cum anywhere?"

"Anywhere but my face," Tom warned me after I started moving in that direction, but I had no intention of doing that.

"AWWWWW!" I groaned way too quickly, having been only able to last a few seconds after I had climbed next to Tom and had begun to rub my cock in his armpit. The sight and sensation of being able to rub my dick all over that hairy grotto had been too much for me to take, and after I had deposited a copious load of semen into the dense thicket, I went back down to my knees and moved my head under his arm.

I took my time licking and sucking my cum out of Tom's armpit hair, and by the time I did, Tom's cock had come back to life as well as a result of my efforts. Lifting his oversized member off of his stomach, Tom suggested that since I was the cause of that, I should do something about it.

"With pleasure," I announced, climbing over Tom and straddling him once again while he got me primed and ready, proving that everything that goes around comes around.

...

Chapter Nineteen: Goodbye.

Tom was heading off to school, and the day of his flight I spent the morning with him as he packed up some of his things. I was depressed, knowing that this was probably the ned for us. With Tom half a country away, he would find other interests along with the usual distractions of school and athletics. A guy like him was bound to find somebody. Either a guy, or a girl, since he seemed to enjoy both.

For his part, Tom encouraged me to go out and find somebody of my own.

"I'll be back for the holidays," Tom reminded me as he puttered around his fortress of solitude. "I'll probably be really horny by then, so be prepared."

I smiled and nodded, knowing that if Tom called, I would be here no matter what happened in between now and then.

"Hey," Tom said. "Take out your dick."

Instinctively I pulled down my shorts and underwear instantly, not knowing why he asked or even caring.

"How fast can you get hard?" Tom asked, and laughed when I was almost fully erect by the time he finished talking.

"Hold this under your dick for me," Tom said, handing me an old baseball card he was about to throw out.

"Ted Kluszewski?" I asked as I put the card under my erection, and when I looked up Tom was taking yet another picture of my dick with his Polaroid.

"Now if anybody asks you how big you are, you can tell them that you're as big as Ted Kluszewski!" Tom said, roaring as he waited for the picture to develop.

Unfortunately for me, the picture came out very good, with my pale little stem hiding most of the burly slugger's image. Since my dick barely reached the end of the card, it also proved that my 4" estimate was a bit overstated.

The photo also showed the faint peach fuzz that had grown back since Tom had shaved me earlier in the summer, and the entire package was something that I hoped would never fall into the wrong hands. At least my face wasn't visible, I thought to myself as I watched the picture go into the suitcase.

"Well, my flight won't wait for me," Tom said, grabbing his luggage and walking toward the door with me after his Mom beeped the horn for him.

I wasn't going to the airport, so this was the end for us. I was hoping that I would get a chance to tell Tom how I felt about him, but I guess that I had done that over the last two months anyway.

"Gonna miss you man," Tom said after closing the door behind us, and after hesitating a second, set down the baggage and gave me a hug.

Not the usual bear hug that threatend to crush my ribs when he would dominate me while wrestling or something, but an honest to goodness embrace that made me week in the knees.

"Don't you dare," I heard Tom say as I tried to stifle a sob, and so I didn't let go until I had gotten a grip on my emotions.

"That's more like it," Tom said approvingly as he looked for any sign of moisture in my eyes.

I smiled, and for whatever reason, after Tom had picked up his suitcases again, I leaned over and kissed him. Just a peck, but it was something that we had never done. Not even once, despite doing everything else humanly possible to each other before.

"Lucky my hands are full or else I'd slug you," Tom said, and while I'm not sure whether he was kidding or not, the fact that he smiled was enough for me.

His mother gave me the usual pained smile she always did, and after they pulled out of the driveway, I hopped on my bike and headed for home, following their car for as long as I could until they vanished from sight. It was then that it struck me just how long it was between August and December.

...

Chapter Twenty: An unexpected phone call.

"It's for you Jimmy," my mother sang out after answering the phone, and that wasn't something that I was used to hearing, and when I picked it up, it was a voice that I never expected to hear in a million years.

It was Tom's mother. After I recovered from the initial shock, my mind raced as I thought of the possibilities. Tom was hurt, or worse. Tom was coming home. Whatever it was, it had to be Tom related.

"I just received a letter from Tom, and he put a note in there for you, so I was wondering whether you would want to come over and get it," she said.

"Can I come over now? I asked, and I was delighted when she said she would love to see me.

Despite the lateness, I hopped on my bike and rode over at top speed. The house was dark excpet for a light in the living room, and when Tom's mother answered the door and invited me in, the fact that she was wearing a bathrobe made me feel bad that I was intruding.

"No, Jimmy," she said, offering me a soda and ushering me into the living room and sitting down on the couch beside me. "I love having the company. It's very lonely here without my Tommy. Here's the letter."

She handed me the folded paper which was fastened with a paper clip, which was a pretty tame update as to how he was doing at school and everything. He was doing well and hoped I was too, and still wanted to see me soon, although he might be stuck staying out in Iowa for the holidays because of the wrestling schedule.

"I didn't read that," his mother said defensively. "That was the way he sent it."

"It's okay," I told her. "It's just general stuff anyway."

"Tommy would get very upset if he thought I was reading his mail," she said nervously.

"I know. It's okay," I assured her while rising to leave. "Thanks for the soda and the mail."

"Do you have to go already?" she said while jumping up to walk with me.

"Uh, I don't know. I mean I have school tomorrow, but..."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've been so lonely with Tommy around. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I miss him too," I admitted, leaning against the back of the couch as his mother patted me on the arm.

"I know you two had a special kind of relationship," she said sadly. "We did too. Tommy and me, I mean. I don't know if he told you or not."

"No. I mean, I know he loves you, Mrs..."

"Betty," she interrupted. "Please call me Betty."

"Betty," I repeated. "He never talked much about you or his father."

Never talked in specifics, I could have added, but he had made it obvious that there was indeed a very different relationship between the two of them than there was with most boys and their mothers.

"His father," Betty snorted. "I blame him for everything. Everything. Have you met him?"

"I think so," I said as casually as I could manage.

"Despite it all, I'm so proud of Tommy for overcoming all of that and doing so well."

"Yeah. Tom is great."

"I know Tommy thought a lot of you too," Betty said, putting her hand on my forearm, and the sparkle of the wedding band she still wore dazzled me for a second. "I have to admit something to you though."

"What's that?"

"There were times last summer, that I used to watch you and Tommy up in his workout room," Betty said softly, as if there was somebody else close enough to hear. "The things Tommy used to do with you. Sometimes I would watch you with those."

Betty noded over to the pair of binoculars that were sitting on the end table, and I felt my cheeks flush at the thought about what she had seen.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, for lack of anything else to think of saying.

"I'm the one that should apologize. I shouldn't have been watching. Maybe I was curious, or jealous. I'm sure you must have an idea that Tommy and I aren't your usual mother and son either. We've been through a lot together. And as far as Tommy goes, he has a strange way of expressing his love sometimes."

I shrugged, not able to think of much to add, but let her go on.

After I first saw you, and then saw what was going on, I guess I felt afraid for you," Betty said. "I was scared that you would get hurt or something. Tommy sometimes doesn't know his own strength, and gets carried away without realizing it. I was always hoping you would find somebody nice to be with and stop coming over. Selfish, I guess."

"I think he meant for you to have this photo," Betty said, handing me a Polaroid. "It fell out of the envelope when I opened it."

I panicked at first, and was actually relieved when I saw the picture despite how embarrassed I felt about it. It was a picture of a guy with an erection holding a baseball card under it.

Ted Kluszewski again, I think, although only the fringe of the card was visible, because this time the cock in question was Tom's, and the gigantic monolith was never fatter and longer and more fully engorged than it was when Tom took this graphic self-portrait.

"Must have been thinking about you at the time, Jimbo!" Tom had written on the back.

"I was going to keep it," Betty said suddenly, breaking me out of my trance. "Pretty sick, aren't I?"

I shrugged again, not willing or able to judge anybody else after all I had done this past summer.

"He's quite a young man, my Tommy. Isn't he?" Betty asked, and then shrugged her shoulders weakly. "Silly me. You already know that, don't you. He's so much more a man that his father. In every way."

"Does Tommy make fun of you sometimes?" Betty asked. "About, you know, your build?"

"I thought so," Betty said after watching me nod in agreement. "When I first saw you that day up there, I admit that I was shocked myself. After a while I began to look at you in a different light, and thought that you looked beautiful in your own way."

"Me?" I mumbled as Betty took a few steps away from me, giving me a tight lipped smile as she nodded.

"Some things that you now think are important really aren't, you know? I mean Tommy makes fun of me sometimes too," Betty said, her eyes never leaving mine as she let the robe fall off of her shoulders, leaving her very naked in the middle of the living room. "Not much to look at anymore, I guess."

My knees were knocking as I looked at the usually regal looking woman; gone were the prim and proper dresses, the carefully crafted make-up and the strings of pearls. Now here in front of me was a middle-aged woman who now looked weak and fragile, and almost pitiful in a way. Without the mask of clothing her body was pear shaped. Her breasts were small and a bit droopy, her tummy was a little soft and wrinkled, and a wild and untamed triangle of hair covered her crotch.

"I shouldn't have done this. I'm sorry," Betty said, folding her arms over her chest and feeling every bit as naked as she suddenly realized she was. "It's just that... I'm.. I've been so lonely."

"No, you're pretty," I finally said.

"I am?" Betty said.

"Yes. Tommy always said you were beautiful, and he was right."

Betty made a small step toward me and held out her hand, which was as sweaty and shaky as the one that rose to meet it, and when she took my hand and started walking toward her bedroom, I followed.

...

Chapter Twenty One: The depths.

Thanksgiving Eve came, and it was no holiday for me. I was doing alright in school, but everything else was a nightmare. My social life was no better than it had been in the days before Tom. Now with the news that Tom was staying out in the midwest over the holidays, I was depressed and hurting, which was how I found myself where I was that night.

I felt like the biggest low-life on the planet as I stood at the trough urinal at the men's room in the city park. The night was cool and damp, and while other people my age were probably with their friends and families having fun, I was staring down the long ceramic urinal watching an old guy pee, and they way that he was shielding himself from my prying eyes made it clear that he wasn't interested in me.

It was a poorly kept secret that this was a common meeting place for men to meet, and it was a sign of the state of my desperation and depression that I had been walking in and out this urine-soaked hell hole every time a man had come in here for the last hour.

Unfortunately everytime someone had come into the bathroom, kidney tapping was what they were looking for. If they were actually looking for something else, the scrawny jerk with a puny dick in his hand staring over at their genitals wasn't apparently it.

So I meandered around outside until this middle-aged guy walked past me whistling. As he headed into the bathroom I was only a few steps behind him. He was taller than me, and had slicked back hair that made him look a little like the singer in Sha Na Na.

He went about halfway down the trough and unzipped, and as I took a position at the end and took my dick out, I looked over at the man. He had his cock in his hand and was pulling on it like it was a rubber band, stretching it and pulling on it while looking down at me.

When he saw me looking toward him he swiveled toward me, glancing back at the door while pulling on his cock. His long and slender cock was uncircumsized and bronze in color, and was getting longer as he pulled on himself.

He nodded down toward me, trying to signal for me to let him see my dick. Now that this was actually going on, I was scared, not to mention feeling embarrassed at both the size of my dick and the fact that I was hard.

When I finally summounded up enough courage to turn toward him, he did a double take before looking up at my face. Taking a couple of steps toward me, he kept glancing down at my boner and the door.

"See anything you like, kid?" he asked me.

I looked down at the slender cock he was stroking, the foreskin sliding up and down with his hand, and while he was no Tom in the size department, he was surely no Jimmy either.

I nodded, and with that he motioned for me to follow him. We went behind the building where the lighting was dim, and as we reached a concrete bench he turned around to face me, eyes darting every which way before meeting my own, which were probably looking much like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hips or lips?"

"What?" I asked in confusion.

He shook his head and got down on his knees in front of me, his knees crushing the dried leaves that covered the ground around us. Yanking my pants down, he grabbed my little stem and looked up at me.

"Can you cum? Oh man. I'm going to hell for sure," he said while shaking his head sadly. "Keep your eyes peeled for the cops, kid."

He lunged forward and swallowed my cock, his mouth working over my throbbing little pecker while his hands held my ass cheeks and pulled me toward him.

Standing there in the park with this guy I didn't know gobbling my dick like a starving animal wasn't my fantasy, but for a moment at least I felt wanted by somebody. And truth be told, the guy was an incredible cocksucker.

I barely lasted a minute before I moaned out that I was coming. He kept sucking and I started spitting ropes of cum into his mouth, and the choking sound that followed my rapid series of ejaculations gave me a little satisfaction as he drained me dry before standing up.

"Bend over," were his only words, as he spun me around and had me lean over the back of the bench.

The concrete was cold on my stomach as I leaned over, feeling first a wet finger and then a dry hard probe. He was very hard and pretty long, but his cock was not much thicker than my own, so the relative lack of lubrication didn't hurt that much as he began thrusting into me.

The crunching of the leaves under our feet and the occassional sounds of various wildlife were the only noises besides his man's growling as he fucked me. The throaty noises he made sounded feral and was a perfect soundtrack to what we were doing.

After a few minutes of humping me, he let out a deeper growl as I felt his warmth fill me. A couple of slow strokes in and out of me followed, after which he pulled out his cock and yanked his pants up.

"See ya. I'm here all the time if you want more, kid," he announced before he disappeared into the night, leaving me with my pants down around my ankles and a stranger's cum oozing out of my ass.

I got myself together as best I could and made the long walk home. This time, there was nobody around to warn me not to cry, but that's just as well, because even that wouldn't have been enough to stop me this time.

...

Chapter Twenty Two: Seeking advice.

"It's been a while, hasn't it Jimmy?" the jovial man suggested as he welcomed me into his office. "You haven't changed a bit though."

Patrick was the mentor of the youth group that I had been loosely connected with over the years. It was supposed to be some form of outreach program for teenagers, so that they wouldn't roam the streets, get in trouble, and eventually end up in some sort of Satanic cult I guess, but after the first couple of years I got bored with it and rarely attended. When something was too dull for me and my social status, that was saying something.

"So what brings you to these parts?" Patrick asked me, sitting down behind his gigantic mahogany desk, arms folded and eyes twinkling.

Patrick was a burly man, with rosy red cheeks and a laugh that sounded like a lion's roar, and like a lot of guys I had often come to seek his advice back in my early teens. So many came to seek his counsel that he had come to be known as Father Pat.

In those days, my worries were normal kid things, but now, my problems were more of an adult nature, and having Father Pat sitting there looking at me like this made me realize that there was no way in the world I could talk about what I planned on.

"I don't know," I said finally, staring at Father Pat's pudgy fingers interlocked in front of him, and the thick grey hair that covered his forearms - anything except looking in his eyes.

"Girl problems?" he suggested. "Seems to be the universal topic for boys these days. Of course, this is 1970 and I remember people tell me that back in the 1940's when I was your age, so nothing really changes after all."

"No, not really."

"Okay, then. What is it then. School problems?"

"No, school is okay."

"What grade are you in now Jimmy?"

"Grade? I'm a freshamn. At State."

"You're in college?" Father Patrick said as he recoiled in shock. "How old are you now?"

"Eighteen. I'll be 19 in a few months."

"Unbelievable! You still look like you always did back when you used to be involved in the youth group."

"I know," I said glumly. "I get that a lot."

"I didn't mean it that way, Jimmy," Father Pat said. "It's just that when you get to be my age, the years fly past like months used to. And there's nothing bad about looking young either. You'll find out about that in time."

"So it isn't girls and it isn't school," Father Pat said with a smile. "Hope it isn't drugs."

"Drugs? No," I said quickly, my being the biggest square on the planet with my short haircut and nerdy ways. "I thought this was a good idea before I got here, but I can't... you know."