Bus Boy - 2. Chapter 2

We get to play tennis two times the following week on the local tennis court. When I told him I liked tennis, I was exaggerating a bit as I hoped to find something in common between me and him. Luckily, I’m not that bad but he is better. He seems to have unlimited energy despite it being relatively late hours. I’m not horrible, though and we are both having fun. Probably I would do even better than I did if I was able to pay full attention to the game. Bus Boy - I mean, Artem - looks pretty damn amazing in his shorts and a tee. He was born to play sports. Clumsy when he walks, agile panther when the game is on. I regret that I only have two hands. I could use one more to take photos of him in his flexed poses and another one to masturbate.

I’m very nervous when we hit the showers. He probably has a public shower like five times a day and it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all.

“Are you limping?” I say, as I watch him walk to his locker. I was curious about his clumsy walk before but now, after the game, it seems to have intensified.

“Yeah,” he says. He takes off his t-shirt and I gasp - mentally. He’s exceptional. I’m sure he doesn’t have a balanced training routine or a diet. He’s just an active teen and he’s so effortlessly fit. Six-pack - check. V-shape - check. Smooth chest, defined shoulders and sexy nipples - check, check, check!

“Why so?” I ask. I really try not to be obvious about ogling him, I really do.

“Long story,” he turns away from me, pushes his shorts down and routinely steps out of them. His slim but muscled legs are just mouthwatering. I’m speechless and he misreads that as a sign to go on. “The doctor said I had a problem with my Achilles and they told me I can’t do any sports. That was two months ago. But then my coach told me to crosscheck with a different doctor and it turned out I’d gotten a wrong diagnosis. It turned out there’s inflammation in my left foot and now I’m taking drugs to heal it. At least I can function normally.”

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

Artem is just in his briefs now, not at all self-conscious about his body. “Yeah and they said they will have to amputate my foot if it doesn’t get better.”

“Jesus,” I mouth and I watch him head towards the showers with his towel. “You’re kidding, right? Artem?” But he’s already gone.

We keep it decent and we wash separately and then change in the changing rooms. I’d do anything to be with him but I can see how casual he is about stuff. I’m not casual at all. I can sense it’s not our time, yet.

We have a very nice conversation on our way back home, too. He tells me that they moved with his parents to Poland two years ago and he’s never made many friends and he’s even getting bullied sometimes for his accent. Many people only tolerate him because he’s great at soccer. I say his Polish is amazing and I’m rewarded with a grateful smile. I try to delicately ask about his parents but he changes the topic. I don’t push. I think about him for the rest of the day.

The next day, I see him on the bus and he has a cut on his cheek. He says he hit the goal post when he was trying to finish a corner. Nothing out of the ordinary. When I was his age, I used to look like a frag grenade explosion survivor half of the time because of all the clashes and bike falls. This little battle scar is making him look even more rebellious and attractive.

***

On Friday, my friends text me to invite me over to hang out again. This time I pause before I reply. First, I call Artem.

“Hey Rob,” he says.

“Hey… so my friends invited me over to grab a beer this evening.”

“Okay, have a good one!” He wishes me cheerfully.

“I wasn’t finished,” I chuckle. “I was meaning to say I don’t really feel like going and I thought maybe you’d like to hang out instead. I mean, if you don’t mind hanging out with an old guy.”

There’s a small, cute laugh on the other end of the line. “Like, how much older do you think you are? Sure I don’t. Let’s meet. I won’t be home until 10 pm so you can go see your friends and we’ll meet later.”

That doesn’t sound half bad because I do want to see my friends. I was just happy to dump them for my Bus Boy. It is an added bonus that I don’t have to.

I’m a little stoned and drunk again as I come back home and I hear a familiar voice from the same bench again.

“Hey, mister.”

“Don’t you mister me, you little brat,” I say even before I can see him and it’s a joy to see his smiling face emerge from the shadows. We sit on the bench and talk for a bit.

“So, do you smoke weed?” he asks after I casually mention it when talking about my day.

“Yeah, not very often, though. Do I act funny?”

“No,” he says and pauses. For a minute, there’s just silence and it feels nice to sit there with him. “I like it,” he adds, almost in whisper.

“That I’m stoned?” I ask, confused.

“No. That you’re not only about sex,” he says softly.

I turn my head to look at him and he’s as serious as he’s ever been.

“Am I about sex?” I ask, clueless as to what to make out of this.

“Are you?” he parries.

I hesitate. “Well...” I can already see where this is going and he’s inviting me to go all in but I know that I’m gonna screw it up if I’m not careful. I decide to play his little game for a little longer. “I’m about many things.”

“That’s what I just said, dude,” he laughs. “So am I. Many, many things.”

I finally smile and relax a little. Oh boy. My dream is coming true… isn’t it? “And how do you like it so far?” I ask.

“Very much,” he says. “You?”

“Me too. I’ve had a crush on you for a while now but only now I’m starting to enjoy who you actually are… very much,” I add, my high brain unable to find more sophisticated words.

“Merry vuch,” he says.

“What?”

“Polish is so funny. Hey, what’s the name of your dog?” he asks.

“Ares,” I say.

His eyes go wide. “You gotta be kidding me.”

I feel very dumb right now. “Uhh… why?”

“Artem and Ares… I feel like we’re gonna be friends. Say... Can I come over for a bit?"

“Uh, that came out of nowhere.”

“I need you to help me with something and we can’t do it here,” he says.

“Uhm, okay, whatever you say. Are your parents alright with this? I don’t want you to get… in trouble because of me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says and that’s the only reassurance I get out of him.

***

“Ares!” Artem shouts when my doggie attacks him in the hallway. It’s a super small dog but he’s relentless in attacking the boy’s long green soccer socks.

I watch those two with amusement. “You two play; I need to go to the bathroom.”

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I blink my eyes, desperate to make sure it’s all real. It’s real, isn’t it? I’m not that bad looking. Or am I? Suddenly, I notice bags under my eyes and a place I didn’t properly treat when shaving this morning. Am I good enough for him? He’s a fucking sports star. What does he need my help with, anyway? I sure hope it’s about the critical level of seed in his ball sack. It’s exciting but it also makes me nervous. He’s young. Is he ready? Am I ready? Maybe he just wants me to help with his homework…

I take time to refresh myself and go back to check on the boys.

I must’ve been gone longer than I thought. Ares is sleeping in his cot which is incredible. I’d think he wouldn’t stop bothering our guest forever. The house is completely silent and I’m worried that Artem has grown impatient and just left. I wouldn’t forgive myself till the end of my days.

Fortunately, that’s not the case. I find him in my bedroom and when I push the door open, I have to stop and relish the sight before my eyes because it’s just amazing.

Artem is lying shirtless on my bed. The shirt is hung on the chair. The boy is looking at me with a little bit of anxiety as he bounces his bent knees inward and outward, giving me a teasing view very high up his shorts. His long green socks almost go all the way to his knees. There are only small patches of skin visible between the socks and the shorts and it seriously turns me on more than if he was naked.

He smirks. “Hey, whatcha staring at?”

“You tell me. Puppies aren’t allowed on the bed in my house.”

His fake pout is to die for. “You think you’re smart, huh? Come here now, I need your help.”

I take a step forward but I hesitate. I don’t think he’s aware of what he's doing to me. “With what?” I ask.

“My foot,” he says, “I need to massage it twice a day and it sucks donkey ass to do it myself.”

“Uhh, okay,” I say and sit on the bed. I look at his foot and pinch the fabric on his big toe. “Shouldn’t you take it off first?”

He wiggles it in my direction. “You, help.” Apart from his accent, his Polish is pretty fucking impeccable but it amuses me when he tries to talk like a caveman. Make no mistake, “amuses” is my euphemism for “turns on”.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, I guess.”

I take his left sock and slowly start to fold it down to his ankle. I see some dried dirt patches - proof that the socks are not just an accessory. He watches me patiently and curls his toes a little when I struggle to pull it past his heel. His foot springs when I succeed and he almost kicks me in my face.

He smiles shyly. “Sorry.”

“You would be sorry if you hit me.”

I examine his naked foot. It’s sad to see the sock gone but the foot itself is true beauty, too. Having him lay here with just his right sock on is even hotter, dare I say.

I put his injured foot on my lap, not quite sure what to do. I’ve given my share of massages but they were much more like foreplay without any medical application. I take the foot in my hands and start pressing it with my thumbs.

“Stronger!” Artem demands.

“I don’t wanna break your foot.”

“You won’t. Use more force. That’s it. And add some circular movements… yeah… You’re still holding back. Add more pressure. Not like that, you’re tickling my toes. You can use your knuckles if you’re tired. Oh yeah, just like that. Stronger! Aaaah, yeah. Fu…”

Artem’s torso bows upwards as I finally get my technique right. And I’m glad I do because he was slowly starting to piss me off. He squirms and moans.

“How much longer?” I ask. As much as I enjoy it, I’m putting all my strength in it to satisfy him and I’m starting to feel sore.

“One more minute,” Artem whispers. His eyes are closed and mouth is open. Then, without opening his eyes, he grabs the waist of his shorts and slowly pulls them down to his knees. I take the hint and take them off of him. There he is. Just in his black and blue boxer shorts and one sock. A rigid proof of his excitement obviously tenting between his legs.

I take it as a signal to stop my procedure. I grab both of the boy’s feet that he keeps dangling in the air and slowly caress them for a while, happy to be way more gentle this time. His feet are almost as big as mine. Pretty much everything about Artem is long. My hands softly play with his toes. Five of them naked, the other five covered by the thin fabric. I can’t make up my mind which half I like better and I’m grateful I don’t have to decide. When I’m done, I travel down to his ankles and then massage his calves for a while. They’re so tight beneath his skin.

“Mmmm…” his moan sounds like encouragement rather than a natural reaction when I move down to his thighs. They’re hot like two furnaces, getting even hotter the closer I get to his groin area. His dick twitches invitingly beneath the fabric of his briefs.

When I’m almost there, I stop. I’m sure both of us know where this is going but there’s always this hint of doubt. Maybe I’m pushing it too far. Maybe we should wait a little longer. Maybe...

“Come on Rob.”

“What?”

“You’ve proven it. You’re not all about sex,” he says with his teen hoarse voice and looks down at his briefs. “Now come on, help me out of these.”

His reasoning seems absolutely convincing. I get myself shirtless to better match his state of undress. I’m so thankful I didn’t stop working out when the virus happened. Shoulders back, tummy in. I make sure the boy can appreciate what I’ve been doing to attract hot dudes like him over the past months. I’m not as athletic as he is but I’m quite fit. His eyes are bright and I don’t see a hint of regret as he checks me out. That’s a win. Then, I remove my shorts, too, and crawl over him. He’s been clearly expecting it and he adorably stretches like a cat, giving me a wicked smile. I can’t believe it. He’s into me and I’m into him. It’s perfect.

Despite his invitation, I don’t go for his boxer briefs just yet. I go for his mouth. I lower myself very slowly to touch the tip of his nose with mine. His nose is small and cute. We wiggle around for a while and for the first time, I feel his magnetism pulling me in.

The first peck is brief but still cute and lovely. The second one is longer and my dick jerks when I feel his mouth on mine. He’s a little sweaty. Did he shower after practice at all? Well, I don’t care.

He’s impatient. He pulls my head down for the third kiss and oh boy, now that’s a kiss. It’s passionate and hot. He’s inexperienced but eager and hungry. I’m controlling and penetrating.

I can sense that it’s his first time but I don’t doubt that he’s ready. I feel it. He’s confident and knows what he wants even if he doesn’t fully understand it.

His hands wander to touch my back and I place mine on his hips. Our lips don’t stop kissing. Artem sure isn’t a pro but he’s super horny.

My right hand travels down. There’s a pretty decent bulge tenting his boxer briefs and I touch it. The boy moans. He touches my bulge and we make out for a little while. We waste no time removing our undies and we’re both naked now. I mean, I’m naked. He’s still wearing his knee-high green sock and it’s not going anywhere if I can help it.

I break the kiss. I place little pecks on his chin, his neck, his hairless, perfect chest, and his flat belly. Then I lift my head a little and finally get a closer look at his hard dick. Just like everything about Artem, it’s spectacular. Not too short, not too long. Decently thick, cutely uncut and very, very hard. His tight ball sack is hairless and shiny, silently producing sperm at double speed, away from the light. His bush is shaved but from the look of it, it had at least a few days to regrow. I gently grab the shaft and devour it. He whimpers. Not very loud. Just a few little moans here and there whenever his excited, heavy breath gets out of control. It’s delicious. The combination of the smell, taste, feel and knowledge of what I’m doing to him gives me a divine feeling. I gently run my fingers along his upper body and feel it shiver and electrify at my touch. I continue sucking him as my hands slowly travel way up, almost to his neck, then to his shoulders and eventually down again to his hands and fingers which I grasp tightly. Artem clenches his fists every time I go down on his shaft.

After a few minutes, he lifts my chin and I’m almost disappointed by the lovely loaf of boy meat missing from my mouth. But then he kisses me and sticks his tongue inside of my mouth. We make out again. As we kiss, he hugs me very closely and I’m surprised by the strength in his slim and lithe arms.

After a minute, he goes down on me and sucks me eagerly. I sit on the bed, look down at him and place my hand on his hair. The feeling is amazing but I swear that the sight of his dirty blond mop going up and down on my dick is even better. At first, he goes a bit too fast so I use my hand to gently adjust him to a more adequate tempo. He makes a few breaks to lick me from the root to the tip.

“God, Artem, it feels great, keep doing what you’re doing,” I encourage him and he’s beaming, sucking and licking me eagerly.

He goes for a while and then we readjust. We’re way too impatient to try more imaginative positions. I make him sit on my legs so our dicks almost touch. I grab his and he grabs mine. We jerk off each other and kiss. This is so amazing. He’s gonna be such a sex beast when he gets more experienced. And he will if I have anything to say about it.

Just like in fairy tales, we cum at the same time. The warmth coming from our combined fluids is so satisfying I can’t even start to explain. We moan into each other’s mouths as our orgasms build up, peak to finally slowly - very slowly! - subside. When our lips part, I look into his eyes. There’s no fear or shame - only delight and satisfaction, with just a little touch of cheekiness that I’m starting to love. I was right - he was ready. He was ready for his first time; he sought it and he got it. And I’m the luckiest guy alive to have given it to him.

***

Me and Bus Boy… Artem… we become regulars. Not just in sex. We play tennis, talk and make love. Sometimes he helps me walk Ares. Damn, sometimes he just removes me from the equation. He knocks, takes the dog, and walks away only to return an hour later to demand some more lovemaking. He’s young and things we do are pretty vanilla so far, but that’s still the best sex I’ve had in my life.

Last night I fingered him. It was preceded by licking his rim for around 5 minutes and he went straight to heaven. I never heard him moan so much. He’s not a faker. This must’ve really fired him off. Then I used my finger and it was just too much for him. Artem grabbed his leaking dick and brought himself to an explosive orgasm in just a few strokes.

For the non-sex news, Artem has started sitting next to me on the bus almost every day. That’s a really nice touch to our friendship because we’re in public and are forced to talk about innocent stuff and it shows that - despite the small age difference - we have a lot in common. For one, I learned that he doesn’t just play sports - he’s addicted to watching soccer games and so am I. Our discussions about clubs, transfers, and games become really heated. After a few days, he comes over to watch the Champions League quarter-finals and I don’t remember having this much fun watching a game. Especially with us having an awesome sex session at half-time.

I’m not sure if I made it clear enough but we didn’t fuck yet. We did not. And I’m mentioning it now because it’s two days after I rimmed and fingered Artem and today, very subtly, he demands to be entered with more than a finger.

“Next time, Artem, okay? I want to do it when we have more time. The game resumes in ten minutes.”

“Awww.”

How can anyone be so cute? He sucks and swallows me and then gets on all fours, inviting my tongue and then my finger again. That’s his favorite thing from now on.