Pickup Pt. 02

"Don't be. I welcomed the opportunity to speak about him. I just need a minute. Then I'll finish telling you why I brought you here, if you haven't guessed by now."

"Take your time."

Keith sat patiently with me until I could go on.

"When I saw what your father was, I did what I knew my uncle would have done: I set about finding a way to get you safely out of that house. Your artistic talent and your computer skills gave me the way."

Keith put his arms around me. "So I owe two people my lifelong gratitude. I can't show your uncle how grateful I am, but someday when I'm no longer living off your generosity I'll do something for you."

"That's not necessary."

"It is. You do everything for me, and you ask nothing in return. I'll have to wait until I'm self-supporting but I'm determined to do something for you, and it will have to be something marvelous."

"You're already doing something marvelous for me, Keith. You're living here."

Keith pulled back to stare at me in bewilderment.

I ran my fingers through his hair. "If you don't know how happy I am to have you with me, you aren't paying attention."

=====

The next morning marked the second time I was awakened by Keith's hand caressing my face and a passionate kiss that followed. I grinned. "Was there a special reason for that?"

"Yes. What you told me yesterday about your uncle's early death set me to thinking about how my mom used to put things off, waiting for the right time, only to have her life cut short before she could do some of the things she had planned. There's something I wasn't going to tell you until I turn twenty, but I decided not to take the chance that my own life might end before I tell you that I love you, that I fell in love with you the day you held a quilt around me. Do you remember doing that?"

"Of course I remember. But Keith, I --"

"I know. It's alright. You don't have to love me back."

Not love him back? I almost lost my resolve and told him.

=====

Toward the end of October, I asked Keith what he would like for his twentieth birthday. "Last year I chose your gift. This year the choice should be yours. What will it be? Assuming it's something within reason."

"I'll let you know."

"Your birthday is only three weeks away, I need to make sure I can get the gift in time."

"Don't worry, it won't be a problem."

I'm not known for my patience. I embarked on a campaign to make him tell me what he had in mind. I even tried to bribe him.

Nothing worked. By the evening before his birthday he still had not told me his choice. I went to bed frustrated, and lay staring up at a symbolically blank ceiling until I fell asleep.

It was shortly after midnight when I slowly grew aware of something warm and wet moving along my erect penis. I opened my eyes.

A naked Keith was crouched between my legs with his head down, busy at my crotch. He had managed to pull the blanket down, move my legs apart, and get into position, all without disturbing my log-like slumber.

"Keith!"

He raised his head and I felt the cold night air on my wet penis. He smiled. "As of midnight I'm not underage anymore even by your standards, and doing this is the birthday gift I want."

With that, he went back to work licking me, holding my erection upright to slather every inch. Then he plunged forward and engulfed as much of my long fat penis as he could get in his mouth.

He couldn't use his tongue as freely with me filling him, but he made up for it by sliding a hand underneath my cleft and using a finger to rim me as he sucked.

Waves of pleasure washed through my body.

His rimming finger began to probe. That drove me wild! In seconds I was pumping gushes of cum down his throat.

He kept swallowing, taking all I gave him, keeping his lips wrapped around my penis until it had gone soft. Then he sat up and looked at me uncertainly. "Was that ok? Did you like it?"

"Keith, it was awesome!"

He beamed. "I'll do it again when you've reloaded."

"An encore would be welcome but tomorrow is a workday, we both need sleep. How about tomorrow night? If you let me reciprocate."

"You don't have to do that."

I patted the mattress at my side. "Come here."

He moved up and lay facing me.

"I don't have to" I said. "I want to. I love you, Keith. I couldn't tell you that until now, it would have... complicated things. But I tried to show you. I was devastated the day you said you loved me but I didn't have to love you back. It meant you hadn't picked up on the clues."

"What clues?"

"There were so many. Why did you think I treat you the way I do?"

"To honor your uncle. You told me that you brought me here because it was something he would have done."

"Yes I did, but then I fell in love with you. Did you really have no idea?"

"I knew you liked me, but I thought it was no more than that. I expected that someday you'll decide that you've honored your uncle enough and you'll tell me to leave."

"And I thought I was being so obvious. I should have realized that with all you've been through, you must think that nothing good can last, that disaster is always lurking right around the corner."

"That's exactly what I think."

I pulled him into my arms. "Then think about this: You've had some awful years, and there might be rough periods in the future; none of us gets through life without them. But now you're with a man who loves you and will help you through whatever life throws your way." I rumpled his hair. "So what's it gonna be? Are you going to live in constant dread, waiting for the next calamity, or can you enjoy the good times?"

He snuggled up. "Now that I know you love me, I won't worry about anything."

-----

When I woke to early daylight, Keith was still snuggled up. He was asleep. I lay motionless to avoid disturbing him.

A fly that had gotten into the house buzzed my ear. I swatted it away.

The motion woke him. He yawned. Then he smiled at me. "Good morning."

"Good morning Scruffy."

"Scruffy?"

"Your hair is all messed up."

"Gosh!" he said with a smirk. "How could that have happened?"

"I'll have my private investigator look into it."

He kissed me. "What a great morning!"

"Yes it is. Too bad we can't stay here all day."

"That's a terrific idea! Let's do it!"

"We can't. I have appointments to keep, and you have a job."

He stuck out his lower lip like a pouting child. "Ok, desert me. See if I care."

I whipped the blanket off and slapped his naked behind. "That's for trying to make me feel guilty. Now get going.... And happy birthday."

He gave me another kiss before getting out of bed.

As he walked to the door, I feasted my eyes on the motion of that beguiling rear end.

-----

It seemed that the chain of meetings with gallery owners and artists' representatives would never end; I wanted to get back home and see whether the previous night had made a real difference in Keith.

When at long last I arrived home for dinner, I found him positively bubbly: "At work today everybody asked me what drug I'm on! They said they've never seen me look so happy!"

"What did you tell them?"

"That I had a spectacular night, that it has changed my life, and that the details are private. One of the men clapped me on the back and said 'Your first nooky sure did you a lotta good!' I didn't say anything."

-----

I tried to rush through my office work that evening, eager for the promised encore. In my haste I kept making mistakes. It took longer than usual.

When at last I got everything done, I went to the studio. "Time for that encore you promised me."

Keith rapidly closed up his art supplies. "It's late, I thought you forgot."

"This is not something I would forget" I told him, taking him by the hand and leading him down the hall to my bedroom.

After closing the door, I went to the big four-poster bed, where Keith stood awaiting instructions.

I started to undress him. I had gotten his shirt and his undershirt off when, on impulse, I gave him a shove, toppling him backward onto the bed.

He smiled up at me.

Looking at this beautiful boy as he lay there topless, with his feet hanging just above the floor, I was filled with desire. I undid his belt and opened his pants. Then I slid an arm under the small of his back and lifted him a few inches off the bed, making it easy to pull his pants and his underpants down to his thighs.

The night I had undressed Keith after the beating by his father, I had wondered how big his penis would be when fully erect. The answer was now in front of me: That "darling little penis" was a respectable six-and-a-half inches long and appropriately thick. I put my lips over the base and began running them all the way up and then back down. In response to his pleased "mmmmm", I repeated the journey three times. At the end of my third pass upward I licked around under the mushroom crown before taking the penis deep into my mouth.

I held it there for a minute, savoring its warmth and its taste. Then I curled my tongue around the spongy underside and moved him in and out, wiggling my tongue as I went. Each time I took him all the way back in I heard a long, delighted "aaaahhh".

I reached down and fondled his smooth round balls. His breaths turned shallow and quick.

Suddenly he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to him.

My face was buried in his bush as his penis erupted, sending a creamy flood into my mouth. I was barely able to swallow fast enough.

When the fusillade ended, he let go and huffed: "Whew! Where did you get those moves?"

I pulled back, swallowing the last drops from his retreating penis. "I've had some talented boyfriends."

"Well it has done a lot for me" he said with a wink (a reference to my earlier comment about his gym classes at school).

After liberating his feet from their shoes and socks, I swung his legs up onto the bed, laying him out at full length. Then I stripped and got in beside him.

He crawled on top of me. "Have I ever mentioned that I love you?"

"The words have a familiar ring" I said, putting an arm around him. "Have I ever told you that I love you too?"

"That's my impression" he answered, laying his head on my chest.

A minute later he was asleep.

I didn't mind that my mischievous push had ultimately cost me the anticipated encore: I was holding him, his pants and his underpants were still down around his thighs, and I had placed my free hand on a warm cheek of his bare behind. This was better than any encore.

=====

My bed now became our bed, and in succeeding nights we gave each other much pleasure there. But Keith didn't suggest anything beyond what we had done those first two nights. I wanted more but I didn't ask: If this was the price of having him with me, I would be satisfied.

Chapter Six

As November drew to a close, Keith's grief over the death of his mother was no longer dominating his existence. In fact he had become so upbeat since his twentieth birthday, that he lightened the mood wherever he went. I remarked that he was a veritable ray of sunshine.

He treated me to a brilliant smile. "For the first time in my life, I have reason to be. You've told me that you love me, I'm painting every day, and my murderous father is permanently out of my life."

Well not quite, as we learned one day in December when Keith showed me a letter. "It came this morning. It's from my dad. He's apologizing. Apologizing, as if that could make any difference. He's asking me to visit him so he can tell me in person how sorry he is for everything he's done. Well even if I believed him, sorry doesn't cut it. I don't want anything to do with him."

Keith tore up the letter and tossed it into the wastebasket.

There was another letter from Daryl every week for the next two months. On each unopened envelope, Keith wrote 'Refused. Return to sender', and took it to the nearest mailbox. "I want him to know I don't even read them."

Then a week passed without a letter, and shortly after that we were notified that Daryl had hanged himself in his cell.

I thought Daryl's suicide would have a positive effect on Keith. Instead, he shut himself away in his old bedroom, emerging only a few times a day for purposes of hygiene. The one human contact he allowed was with Naomi, from whom he accepted some of the food she brought.

When he had maintained his isolation for three days, I went in. He was sitting on the side of his bed, staring vacantly at the floor. I sat down next to him. "Do you think your father committed suicide because you rejected his letters?"

"I don't know" he answered without looking up. "And I don't care."

"Then why is his death affecting you this way? You said you didn't want anything to do with him."

Keith looked at me with a desolating sadness. "I didn't. It's just... he was my last living relative. Now that he's gone I have no family. I'm alone."

"You're not alone, you have friends who care about you. They've been calling to ask why they haven't seen you. They want to know if you're alright. When I tell them you've become a hermit they ask if there's anything they can do. And you have me."

That got me a warm smile and a hug. "Yes I do have you. You're my best friend."

"Then do your best friend a favor: Come have dinner with me. And tomorrow call your other friends. They miss you. I've missed you too."

=====

Keith went back to his job, giving his father's sudden death as the reason for his unannounced absence. He was reprimanded for not sending word but he wasn't fired.

He had stopped painting again. His friends urged him to resume. He agreed - on condition that they all sit for portraits.

I was curious to see how well he would handle the change of subject from landscape and still-life to people. His studio was only three doors from my office suite, I could walk in at any time. But I was keeping to the practice I had followed when the studio was above my garage. I had even gone a step further, never entering without an invitation. Those invitations were rare, so I was elated the day he asked: "Would you come and look at my latest painting? I'd like to know what you think."

I was also flattered: He had never before asked for my opinion on his work.

It was a painting of a woman sitting under a tree. The background was rendered with nearly photographic sharpness, but the woman's image was composed of the dappled sunlight that shone through the leaves. He had blended the two elements seamlessly: the woman looked no less real than the background.

He asked for my candid reaction. I told him that he had created a new style.

"But is it any good?"

"It's brilliant!"

=====

For the remainder of that winter and late into spring, Keith spent long hours at his easel refining the new style. I thought so highly of his most recent paintings that I suggested he choose one or two for the exhibition the city holds each summer in our largest park. He said nothing was good enough.

I had a feeling that he would never think any painting of his was good enough.

=====

One evening in July, Keith walked into my office and asked: "Could you help me look for my painting of the woman sitting under a tree? I can't find it."

"It's not there" I told him. "I stole it last week while you were out doing a landscape. I stole one of your other paintings too."

"You stole them? I would gladly have given them to you!"

"Not if I told you I wanted them for the art exhibition. It opened today."

"What? No, don't show them! They're not good enough!"

"Too late. I put them up this morning."

"Take them down! Please!"

"Already done. I took them down this afternoon to pack them for shipment."

"Shipment? Where?"

"To the buyers. Both paintings sold in the first few hours." I pulled an envelope from a desk drawer and handed it to him. "I was going to give you this at breakfast tomorrow. It's what you made on those paintings."

When he read the amounts on the checks in the envelope, he gulped. Then he sprang at me and rained kisses on my face.

I pulled away, laughing. "Does this mean you're not angry?"

"Are you kidding? I've been dying to know whether anyone would think my paintings are as good as you say they are, but I was afraid to find out! If I knew you were showing them I would have gone crazy with worry! Whoever said ignorance is bliss sure was right."

Then he came at me again.

After extricating myself once more from his clutches, I said: "This is only the beginning: Several people asked when more of your paintings will be offered for sale. As you become better known I'll be able to set higher and higher prices. You're going to be rich and famous."

"Good. It's about time you got the commissions you signed up for."

"I told you, commissions are not in the agreement."

"I don't care. You have to start getting a return on your investment."

"You were never an investment. I told you that too."

"If you don't take your commissions, I won't accept any money."

I had just told him that he was on his way to wealth and fame, and his one thought was of the benefit to me. I took his face in my hands and kissed him. "My tyrannical young ward, you are truly phenomenal."

Chapter Seven

When I entered the dining room for breakfast on August 12^th, Keith greeted me with a cheery "Happy birthday!"

I shot mental daggers at Naomi.

"Don't look at me," she said. "I didn't tell him."

Keith pointed to the arrangement of fresh flowers that occupied the center of the table. "Those are from your brother. Does he always address you so formally? The card even has your middle name."

"Formality is a running joke between us."

"I wish you had told me that today would be your birthday. I have money now, I could buy you a nice gift."

"That's why I didn't tell you. There are better uses for your money."

"I disagree. But it's ok, I've thought of something."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"So you're determined to keep me in suspense again? Like you did last November?"

Keith's answer was an impish grin.

=====

My practice of sleeping naked all night had ended when my bed became our bed: I now start out wearing pajama pants, because Keith enjoys taking them off me. That evening I had undressed and was about to put the pajama pants on, when he walked into the bedroom.

"Put those down!" he ordered. "I need you to be in your birthday suit for your birthday gift."

I had never seen him this commanding. I obeyed without question.

He began to strip. In no time at all he too was naked. Gloriously naked: True to his promise, he had made good use of the gym. He was a vision of male beauty as he advanced in my direction.

When he got close, I pulled him against me and ran my hands down his back until I was holding the cheeks that so enchanted me. My penis, erect since he had started to undress, was now iron-hard.

He gave me a deep kiss. Then he pulled away, went to his pile of discarded clothing, and took a flip-top squeeze-tube from one of the pants pockets.

He returned with his arms held out to the side. "Lift me up."

I grasped him hands under the shoulders and lifted him.

"Higher" he said, hooking his free arm over the back of my neck.

I brought him further up.

He wrapped his legs around my waist. "Just a little more. You'll have to reach under me."

I took hold of those enthralling cheeks and lifted him higher.

He popped the squeeze tube open with a thumb. Then he reached down and I felt lubricant being deposited along my stiff penis.